So, I started my appointment at the V.A. yesterday, with the nurse calling me back almost 20 minutes late. She said that she did not receive my check-in info. She then asked me if I had checked in, and I said that OF COURSE I had. Not a good start.
My husband and I had made a nickle wager about my weight, and whoever came closer, without going over, won. Disappointment number two. I was sure that I weighed about 130 pounds. My husband said 123 pounds. I am 5’9″, and had gotten down to 108 pounds at one point. Anyway, I only weighed 122.7 pounds. The nurses never understand that I am ill, and always make some comment, or give me a nasty look, after they take my weight.
I know tha V.A. has given me a new level, or new kind of PTSD; however that works. It is different than the flashbacks I have from my MST, and is a little hard to explain. Of course, my blood pressure goes through the roof, my chest hurts, and I have a hard time controlling my emotions. I remember what it felt like to be on my death bed; and how crappy that felt. I was prepared to die, and not afraid, but it was still a crappy feeling.
When I tried to tell this doctor, whose name I don’t even remember, that the hospital is doing the gastric emptying studies incorrectly. He BARELY let me finish, then just said that he was not a radiologist. Oh my God, he IS a doctor, I thought, he does not care about his own patients. This ass has been there 3 MONTHS, and is already acting like this. He did not even aknowledge my diagnosis from the civilians. He listened to NOTHING. Did not even mention the chronic illness, nothing. I gave up, and just told him that I wanted a consult to a neurologist, some blood work, and a new muscle relaxer. I also got a flu and pneumonia shots.
My husband and I got in an argument in the exam room, and he ended up leaving, and going to sit in the car. I was so angry. I thought that I had every right to be angry, and not a fucking person cared. I felt abandonded and betrayed, once again. I have had to be my own advocate, so maybe they figured since I had no one in my life that gave a shit, why should they?
For the rest of the afternoon and evening, my husband ignored me, and I felt like, what is the point? I cannot even get people who are PAID to care, to act like they care. Why should I care about myself? I was struggling with this all night. I have spent many, many years alone, with not one single soul that cared about me. I am good being alone, but it would be nice to know that I mattered to another human.
Today, I feel weak and a bit ill. Yesterday took a lot out of me. For my own sanity, I am not going to care about what happens to me. This does not mean that I am giving up on being alive, I just cannot care– not when I have been the only one for so long. I am tired…
To be clear, I am not suicidal, so nobody worry about that. I am sure that eventually, I will snap out of it; I always do. Thanks for your time and God bless.