Category: Health

Doctors Get Crazy Too

Alriiiiiiiight.  So.  Which chapter of crap in the life of a lonely hermit grown-up hipster is this going to be, you ask yourself?  How about I vomit out what I’m dealing with in the medical realm?  Ok, so I went to this specialist, a gastroenterologist, to get a scope jammed down my throat to prove i really have chronic heartburn.  And he did and I do.  But it was a weird experience and I was left sort of questioning the honesty and professionalism of this a-hole.

So I asked around.  I have 2 friends who have Crohns disease, which is a pretty baffling and shitty digestive system disorder.  For those keeping score at home, yes I slept with these girls.  We dated.  I dated one for quite some time and we had some really good times.  We aren’t very close anymore.  I digress.

I got their doctors’ names, and I figure since they have been to millions of these guys and gals and settled on their current doctors, they have GOT to be good.  Why didn’t I do that in the first place? Because my general practice guy (not so hot himself) referred me to this guy.

So anyway, my current guy is shady and has already committed insurance fraud and withheld information from me (if the info even exists… i haven’t seen much proof he did the tests he said he did other than the camera in the gullet).  So… when my prescription plan denies my refills, I’m not too hopeful that the situation will get resolved.  It doesn’t.  Long story short, the rep from the prescription plan told me she had never dealt with as crazy and rude a doctor and that I should switch, and I have to pay over the counter prices until I do.

Check and check.  So I have an appointment with a doctor who has been thoroughly checked out by a friend tomorrow.  I can’t wait to see if it makes a huge difference in my experience.  I also can’t wait for act 3 of the drama with my old stomach guy: in which I try to obtain my records and have to threaten to turn his ass in to the state board for insurance fraud.

Days Can Suck

Well, so why does today suck, you might be wondering? Yeah? Ok… first, the medical bullshit.  So I recently got billed for my last visit to the stomach specialist, which was a follow-up to my upper endoscopy, which revealed I have acid reflux… The bill had a charge for a test that wasn’t done.  And now i’m wondering if I should report these assholes to my insurance provider, because they have cut me a check for the amount and they also put a nice toll-free number on it for reporting insurance fraud.  So I called the doctor to see how he would react.

And this is why I sometimes love but mostly hate this fucking city.  You are forced to constantly and actively fight for yourself.  It happens when you get a sandwich at a deli, it happens when you buy an apartment, and apparently it happens when you see a specialist about your recent diagnosis of GERD.  The other guy is ALWAYS testing your boundaries, trying to squeeze you for as much as they can, or trying to get away with doing as little as possible, and it can be a good way to build up some more aggressive skills.  But it gets OOOLLLDDDDD. Especially when people who are supposed to be taking care of you get pushy.

So the guy was like, “So what, it was like 3 dollars more?” And I’m like, no it was six.  But that’s not the point.  So he asks, “Well then what do you want to happen?”

Fuck.  If only I had prepared a list of possible ways they could make this up to me beforehand.  I wasn’t ready for him to put it back on me, but it’s a pretty classic maneuver here in the city, so I should’ve been.  Anyway, my response was that if i ever actually DO have to have this test done, they need to do it for free. “Ok, sure.” he said. “Is that all?”

Asshole.  Of course it won’t be that simple in the unlikely event that i really do need the test.  First off, I will have gone to a different specialist because I’ll be damned if I EVER go back to that prick.  Which brings me to the other part of that whole episode that has got me all upset: I called my general practice doctor to see if he had received all the test info from the stomach guy (the tests they actually ran) and the receptionist put my doctor on the phone.

He said, “Your guy left me a note about your endoscopy.”

Oh… yeah, he didn’t have much to say to me about it. -me

“Well, there’s a note, and it says…blah blah blah hiatal hernia blah blah”

WHAT?!  Hernia?!?!  Well they didn’t tell me about that.

“Oh, it’s relatively small, he says. Not worth getting fixed.”

So my “specialist” who I have seen twice now forgot to mention that there actually is a specific CAUSE for my acid problem.  ASSHOLE!  So now I’m not sure what to do.  Pay him or report him?  I’m leaning toward reporting him.  But that feels like a surefire way to land me some negative karma.  I’m torn.

In other news, facebook has started suggesting events that multiple friends are going to.  This seems like a good idea except in the cases where I wasn’t invited…. which happened today.  This chick i invited to my st paddy’s day thing next week (which i have canceled due to lack of interest…that empty page of attendees was making me fucking depressed) and who was at a party i went to this weekend invited basically everyone on her friends list EXCEPT me.

And I’m sure it’s because I made her friend cry.  Which I would go into but I’ve already beaten that horse to death elsewhere.  Basically, this girl likes me but I’m not rich enough for her so she keeps me at arm’s length.  She also has some serious emotional issues (having confessed to me once that she has cheated on every guy she’s ever been involved with).  And when she asks me my opinion on her situation I tell the truth.  I even candy coat it to protect her delicate feelings, but it doesn’t matter.  She acts like I’ve called her a terrible monster and gets weepy and righteously mad at the same time.  It happened at the party.  Her friends hate me now (again).  Life gets messy sometimes.

The Emperor’s New Nose

I have this scar on my face left over from when i was assaulted in Williamsburg.  It isn’t directly from the mysterious blunt object those guys used to smash my face.  Instead, it’s from a deep impression my glasses made on the bridge of my nose as they were driven deep into my face flesh (by the mysterious blunt object).  It’s kind of a cute little sideways “y” shape, and it breaks out (i get a zit on it) all the time.

So here’s the thing:  It is as plain as the nose it lives on.  You can clearly see a crease that branches a little.  And it’s pretty obviously a scar as far as I’m concerned.  Anyway, some people just can’t see it.  It is an incredible mystery to me.  I will put the tip of my index finger on it, say “Here it is, at the tip of my finger” and shine a light on it and some people absolutely deny seeing it.

But others, more intimate, closer friends or loved ones, they can see it without any help.  And i say something like, “but isn’t it hard to see?” to which they generally reply, flatly: “Nope.”

This brings me to something I think about occasionally, as I try to figure out how to be comfortable in my own skin and navigate the world like adults do, and that is the white lie.  The lie you tell because you know, you really just know that it will make something better or easier or that it is what a person would rather hear than the truth.

In general, I don’t want the lie.  And so, being a devout follower of the golden rule, I tend to be brutally bluntly honest about things that others might sugarcoat or outright lie about.   But people lie to me, and I am tempted more and more to lie to them, as i can see how it would ease many many situations… like if I say were to want to postpone a date with someone:  I could say that I was feeling tired and really antsy about not having any clean clothes and i haven’t had good couch time in a while so I would rather go home tonight rather than plod through a date going through the motions, and do laundry.

It would be infinitely more in the interest of smooth relations to say something like, “I got a last minute project at work and it’s going to take me until midnight to finish, can we please reschedule?”  Everyone wins.  In the honest scenario I probably would not get the reschedule, or ever see that girl again.

But it comes back to wanting to hear the truth because it just feels cleaner to me.  Here’s a story and then I’m done.  I’m at high school graduation, after the ceremony and walking to my car when a dad stops me.  “Hey, you have a white gown on.”

“Yeah?” (most of them were green, mine was white because I’m special)

“Well i was watching you, and I just wanted to tell you: when you tossed your cap in the air it flew higher than anyone else’s” He had a glistening twinkle in his eye, kind of like when a youth minister is filled up with spreading the holy spirit to a new audience.

“Really? You sure?” I asked, knowing it hadn’t.

“Yeah! It arched up and over all the other hats. I know because it was white and I had seen you throw it.” Smile, searching eyes.

“Wow.  Thanks a lot, mister,” Which I delivered with a genuine attempt at gratitude emulation.

“You’re welcome, I just thought you should know.” And with this he packed his family into the minivan and drove off.

He was lying.  My hat had caught an edge in the downdraft of the A/C and skittered off sideways right at a friend of mine, who returned it.  It was in fact the lowest hat toss of the day.  I felt dirty the rest of the day.

The Long Swallow

Well, so. If this blog is supposed to be about growing up, facing the less cool parts of livin’, and moving on with the business of aging gracefully, I suppose I should share this day’s activities.

I got a gastresophageal–something something endoscopy today. Apologies for the commercial at the front of the video.

Not much to say about it, really.  It was a bummer going to this thing alone and having noone waiting to see how I was doing.  I did get some semi-anonymous facebook love from high school classmates, but I had to practically beg for it by posting a few links and mentioning it in my status.

I’ve always been very independent.  In fact it’s one of my biggest faults.  But this living just out of reach of a whole sack of shit that seems like amazing fun is seriously wearing me down.  It’s hard to come home every day to a giant empty apartment and not have the option of stepping out for a few drinks with some friends.  Or even alone, with the possibility of interesting conversation with like-minded strangers.

So I recently read this book, The Paradox of Choice by Barry Schwartz, and it tackled some of the roots of this ennui I’m feeling.  (Is it even called that? Do I care to make sure that’s correct?)… I recommend the book to anyone currently regretting any decisions they’ve made, or struggling to make some choice that seems life-or-death. It isn’t a very good book, but it had some nuggets.  Suffice to say I should know better than to pine away over something I didn’t even really have when I lived in the fucking center of it all.

Still, coming home alone all groggy from anesthesia wasn’t the high point of this month.