Jean Lund's Blog

{September 25, 2011}   Medical Care in the US
Okay, time to pitch a bitch about medical care in the US. I haven’t piped up on this subject yet, but I got a shit load to say.  Let’s just start with my most recent experience. Since I moved last summer (July 07 and it’s now Dec) my left shoulder has been bugging me and increasingly getting worse. The movers put boxes in the garage that belonged in the house and vice versa. There is a stoop with 5 steps at the front door leading down to the driveway and garage. After I started unpacking I had to lift some pretty heavy boxes from the house to the garage and vice versa. It’s the only thing I can think of that would make my arm so sore. Finally the first part of November I went to a chiropractor, because *I* have come long ago to hate western medical “practioners”. He did treatment on my arm 3x a week for almost a month that included electric stim with heat, hand massage, ultra sound and then ice. At the end of 3-1/2 weeks it was time to go to plan B because I wasn’t getting any better and I have limited movement with my arm and shoulder. We both decided I better get an MRI. I called my primary’s office which nowadays your primary (at least here in California) seems to be a NURSE PRACTIONER—meeeeeeeeaning that the docs are so lazy now they are pushing their work load off onto the NP’s. Well MY NP now only works one day a week becaaaaaaaause she is going into dermatology and will be leaving. So I leave a message that I need an MRI (because I had already seen nursie poo and told her about the arm problem and she gave me some pharmaceutical kick back Vicodin) and a Dr. Lee that I have never even heard of ordered the MRI. I got the MRI and it turns out as I suspected that I have a torn tendon. The results were sent to this Dr. Lee and his nurse called me late afternoon last week telling me she had faxed over a referral to an orthopedic for follow-up and that I should call the next morning to set up an appointment. The following is a copy of an email I sent to a friend at the end of the next day:
I called to make the ortho appt today and was told they never received the fax even though the primary’s office’s nurse told me she faxed it last night–so I called the primary’s office and told them they never received it—-waited a couple of hours and called back and was told it was still not received–
I asked to make my appt NOW while they wait for the referral fax and they wouldn’t do it—well NOW I am pissed off—I said I’d like to make an appointment as a CASH patient then, and the witch told me that they know I have insurance and so they can’t make an appointment until the referral paper comes!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
So I call the primary BACK and the girl faxed it AGAIN and said she has a confirmation print out that it went through—so I called the WITCHES OF EASTWOOD back and they said, well we don’t know why they are faxing the referral, we cannot accept a faxed referral, they need to do it through their web site, electronically!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why the FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK didn’t they tell me THAT first thing in the morning?????????????????????? Sssoooooooooooo I call back and tell the nurse that, and even SHE is fed up with them—
I then work and leave to go to my THREE THIRTY gyno appt. I’ve never seen the gyno before, always the “nurse practioner”—-I FINALLY get called into a room at FOUR THIRTY where I sit for another THIRTY minutes before the SCHMUCK comes in—-we start to talk and a knock on the door, another doc on the phone for him—he takes the call and DISAPPEARS—-across the street to the hospital to deliver a baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
So I sit and WAIT another HOUR because to leave NOW would make me even madder for waiting for NOTHING!!!!
He comes back and I am first cause that’s how he left me, undressed on a table twiddling my thumbs—he said the cyst is SMALLER per the report not bigger—he said I could have my ovary removed to not have to worry about it anymore OR just leave it alone—–I chose to leave it alone—he did a pelvic exam to look for the cyst and ol JEANNIE BEANIE is screaming in pain like I ALWAYS do with a pap and he decides to ask me if I was ever molested!!!!!!!!!!!!  I said NO but that my mother drilled in my head about sex being painful  and wrong as a child. He asked how I had three kids. I said through painful sex!  He doesn’t believe my mother’s words stuck in my head———-he said any woman he’s ever seen that is in that much pain and closes their legs had some form of molestation————-
Now I am just plain exhausted and confused BUT I am NOT having an ovary removed—it was my green light to have my chiro work on my back instead and go get a deep tissue massage—Fuck him if he thinks he’s going to make money off me by carving into my body.”
So that was my email to my friend and I feel the same way if the upcoming ortho appointment tells me I need surgery—LOOK FOR OTHER OPTIONS—
I raced home from work a couple of years ago when the Los Angeles Lakers were going for the 3-peat and quickly turned on the TV and reached inside my left sock to remove it and jammed my right middle finger into the inside ankle bone—and suddenly my middle finger was bent downward and wouldn’t straighten up. I had tore the flippin’ tendon in my finger!!!!!!!!!!!  On a SOCK!  Doh dee doh, off to the ortho I was sent–who said I could keep two fingers taped for up to a year and it may straighten out OR —————SURGERY! Well I do computers for a living so I opted for the surgery. He put a pin in my finger—let me just tell you—-that is effin’ PAINFUL—-I lived on Vicodin and week after week he kept refilling my antibiotic because he was still red and infected. After several weeks he said it shouldn’t still be infected and it took ME to tell HIM to remove the effin’ PIN—he said I needed two more weeks—I said nooooooooo, I need it removed NOW—even layman me could tell my body was rejecting the G D pin!!!  So why couldn’t HE figure that out???????????  I had him remove the pin and the finger cleared up in a matter of days—
Sadly my finger is just as bent as it was before surgery. 😦  I even scanned it and faxed it to the Laker home office asking for free tickets but never heard back. Now when I am talking to someone who pisses me off or I just don’t like, I can just say “Look at my finger.” and flip them off and they can’t do a THING about it!!!  :p
I wouldn’t say I am accident prone but a year before the finger episode, right around this time of year (Christmas) I went out an bought a long strand of ivy leaves to wrap around the top poles of my 4 poster bed so I could complete my self designed “ZEN” bedroom which was all peace and tranquility. Crap!  I can’t even do THAT right!  The whole room was completed by this finishing touch —the leaves above my head at night. I stood on my bed in my stocking feet on my beautiful new silk bedspread and careful wove the strand around the posts. I came to the last weave and my foot was too close to the edge of the bed. And my satin bedspread was too slippery. I started to slip off the bed and remember thinking to myself, “Oh NO you are NOT going to fall???” as I fell off the bed. That wouldn’t have been so bad BUT I fell right chest first right into the corner of my night stand.  The corner cracked a rib which then decided to puncture my lung. I landed twisted in a sitting position on the floor still stunned that I had actually fallen and then I realized my breathing wasn’t so hot. I somehow got myself up and walked to the living room, called my daughter to come get me and then took myself back into my room and sat back down where I had landed!!  ?????????????????????????????  Why????????????  Still stunned I guess I wanted her to find me where I had fallen. She wanted to call 911 but I was already anti doctors and didn’t want nosey neighbors out their doors getting their live coverage of the 5 o’clock news out of me, so asked her to drive me. I barely got into her front seat and she started to drive when I realized I couldn’t sit because the pain was unbearable in that position and I couldn’t breath and every bump in the road was like a sword in my chest—so I am screaming take me back home, call 911 who comes out and along the ride tells me they no longer are allowed to give anything for pain for oxygen for breathing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  My hatred of medical grew ten fold during that horrible ride but it was a flower with perfume compared to the treatment in the ER.

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