Small Things

I’m so excited right now and nobody seems to get it.

 

Last September I was meant to be referred to the public pain clinic in the hospital where my psychiatrist is. It didn’t happen, which I found out in, like, July. I did not want to go to the one the gynaecologist of doom and dismay and “it would only bleed for max 2 weeks” recommended, because it’s too far for me to get there on my own. I got referred there anyway, and they started ringing me at all hours. I kept saying no, and agreed to see someone else, but instead, I got referred to the first one again, so they kept ringing, as if by peer pressure they could suddenly make the words come out and in order.

 

But yesterday? I finally got told that a referral would go through to the one I agreed to see instead, in July. It’s November. I really want to go to the one in the hospital, because, you know, it doesn’t cost $300 an hour. They have a waiting list, and apparently I’m not allowed to be on a waiting list, even though if I’d been referred fourteen months ago, I’d be at the top by now, not being harassed by pharmacists. (Yesterday was “don’t be afraid to tell the doctor how much you’re taking so they know how much pain you’re in”. They know. We’ve tried everything else. That’s why I have to go to someone who’s allowed to prescribe things that are restricted.)

 

Yay?! It shouldn’t have taken this long. It shouldn’t have taken me dragging myself in with a migraine and everything except the abdominal-no-pelvic-no-muscular-not-neurological-now-neurological-because-not-endo-and-one-test-to-rule-them-all at “worst send help and kittens on ice” levels for the psychiatrist to go from “you’re probably addicted to the pain medication” to “well, we can’t do anything about that because you obviously need it”.

 

Well, der.

 

And then I even got a blood test! Imagine that! Nobody’s doing regular blood tests. Sure, the fifth test in four years sounds like a lot, but it’s really not. Now I have a really pretty bruise in my elbow, because the needle went in sideways a bit and pulled, and so there’s a red line surrounded by bluey-purple, which is my favourite kind of bruise, and I totally get enough bruises to be allowed to have a favourite kind.

 

Meanwhile, one side of my neck is so swollen its starting to be visible even to people who don’t know me. But you know, that’s nothing. At all. As usual.

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4 thoughts on “Small Things”

  1. Hi. I’ve just met you. I see you’re from the UK. I am a chronic pain patient. Some of the stuff in your blog I didn’t understand. I mean, are you already on something that’s ‘restricted’ (here we call it ‘controlled’ or ‘scheduled’)? I resolved my situation, my herniated discs in my back, in a different manner. But I don’t want to put it in a blog. Do you have depression and pain or bipolar and pain or does the pain make you that way? I have both.

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    1. I’m from Australia, actually. I’m on a medication which is restricted, it’s a Category 3 medication which is pharmacist only without a prescription – I’m meant to be able to walk into a chemist and ask for it without a prescription, but I can’t pick it up in a supermarket or other places that stock low-grade pain relief.
      I have PTSD and conversion disorder, and the pain is separate, but my brain processes it differently, so it all gets bundled up anyway.
      I’m glad you found a way through your situation.

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    1. Ableism is a systemic form of discrimination where people who are able-bodied (that is, not disabled, nueroatypical, ill – whether temporary or otherwise) are considered to be both the default and preferred, if not superior. So, it’s a word that describes discrimination against people with any kind of disability. You can find some good and more detailed explanations at stopableism.org

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