make. it. stop.

CW: medical/trans drama, suicidal ideation, dysphoria, panic attacks

 

Thank you for your nudges, likes and messages since my last update.

 

I had hoped to come back with great news but alas, I cannot.

 

The Zoladex, after ramping to a critical mass of hormones, ended up working. The migraines faded, as did the pain, and the gynaecologist admitted to having delayed my hysterectomy and I was given a date. This came with a warning -that on the day I would have to fight for it. Instead, I needed to fight -not- to have it, and I failed dramatically. And, now, kinda dying? Maybe.

Continue reading make. it. stop.

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Let Me Tell You About A Thing

CN: sexism, rape, judicial process

 

This is what goes through my mind, what I viscerally experience, every time the ‘but women lie/what about the innocent men/false accusations!!’ thing comes up. Every time. On Facebook, in the news, in random comments on non-news-sites.

Continue reading Let Me Tell You About A Thing

PTS*

cn: ptss, chronic pain, gender stuff (inc. references to surgery)

 

I had an appointment with previous-doctor last week. He somehow got hold of my test results, and despite trumpeting himself as a super-duper in-demand expert, said “well you have reasons to feel like crap”, “that doesn’t make sense you’re not fat and you don’t drink”, and walked out. He likes to walk out when he’s done talking and talk over me typing so I don’t get to actually ask questions. So I followed him out, signed the Medicare form, and the receptionist didn’t ask if I needed a new appointment so I didn’t make one.

 

Apart from that, I haven’t left the house in two weeks. I only just, two days ago, convinced myself to do the washing and wash the clothes I wore to the test. I didn’t check my email for over a week and I still have some that I can’t make myself read.

 

This would be a classic PTSS episode, but for one thing. I don’t know if it was the test that triggered it or not.

Continue reading PTS*

update

cn: codeine drama, discrimination, doctor drama

Real brief, because bawling fit:

  • Facebook reader asked me whether the gynaecologist in my last post was okay with the codeine or whether the reaction was because I was taking codeine.
    I interpreted the whole thing as ‘wow the pain is real’ because the ‘you just need a better x!’ stopped and the ‘your pain needs to be controlled I’mma make sure you get through to your next appointment’ started, and while, yes, there was a bit of “that’s because codeine makes the pain worse!” and “we’re giving you an addiction!”, (both real quotes, not my best recollection or paraphrasing), the focus was very clearly on keeping the pain under control and not changing anything until something definitely better was in place.
  • I managed to ask at the chemist if they could recommend a doctor. The pharmacist and the counter person went out the back and discussed it – I overheard them saying “why didn’t her doctor just refer her?” (yes, because they totally refuse to use my pronouns as well) and when they came back, it was “have you been referred to a pain clinic? they’re cracking down, you know, and i can’t influence anyone and we’ve seen a decrease in scripts as a result, did the doctor say anything about where you could go?” I told them he told me to see a female doctor because they saw fewer patients and while the pharmacist realised it was sexist and wtf-y, the counter person then only recommended female doctors, and all too far away for me to get to without the pain under control. It takes me ten minutes to get the 800m to the GP now – the one they ended up deciding on was 6km away, and in traffic is more like half an hour. The only takeaway was that I could still see the same person there every time, and one I tried before has a nice doctor, but they recommended not going back there as trying again wouldn’t look good for me. Fine, w/e.
  • I received two letters when I checked my mail – the GP sent me a letter to say when my test is, but nothing else. It was sent before the gynaecologist appointment, so I don’t know whether they talked or if I should still expect a script in the mail or what. Now, here’s a thing – without even bothering to check with me, the GP asked one of the reception people to call the hospital for me to find out when, you know, because I can’t talk so clearly there’s no way I can, you know, communicate with the hospital by myself. Except I will, now, but an entire week later. And if I had not gone to the GP last week to try to get him to put me on a chronic pain management plan (“what you mean mobility allowance? Centrelink don’t do that and you’re not eligible for NDIS and you’d have to have a label for the rest of your life” ) I wouldn’t have even known at all.
  • Oh, and the pain specialist cancelled. Sorry, “is not consulting that day please ring to make a new appointment”. Remember how they wouldn’t talk to me because it was too hard?

 

Clearly, I was stupid to think that other-gynaecologist would at least come through with the script so I’d have time to do all this with less impending doom. I mean, yeah, I have more time to sort out the pain specialist. Maybe. But if I do -nothing else- I can attend both the test and the gynaecologist. I can’t do -nothing else- because I don’t have a script to make that nothing else restful enough.

 

This is what the Australian government’s all-or-nothing, zero-to-sixty influence against opiates has done. And yes, I’ve heard the “you don’t really need it you’re just panicking because you’re addicted and you’re being cut off” drama spiel before, so stop sending me addiction clinic spam, kthnx. I have been repeatedly told over the years that this is the best way to manage things, that anything else is too hard, that it’s better not to mess with it while it’s working, that managing the pain is most important.

so stressed i forgot to make a title

CN: moar codeine drama, discrimination, mentions of suicidal ideation, discussion of gendered medical issues

 

I have to admit that I have been procrastinating about finding a new doctor. Well, for the first week it was just not in my power. Last week I had to prioritise the gynaecologist. This week is my first chance to actually go and put myself in front of someone and say ‘halp’ and in all likelihood get knocked back.

 

The gynaecologist last week did not go well. It was forty minutes of questions where I wasn’t allowed to finish my answers (like seriously, I would type half of it, “i can’t read it”, I would fix it, then next question even though like I’d said half a sentence and was not done) before I even had a chance to pass over my letter that I’d written in advance…

 

… You know what, I was telling someone about this once, and they were like “you know, you should write a letter and take it to them!” and I was like “seriously, really? i already did that.” And you know? It still doesn’t work. …

Continue reading so stressed i forgot to make a title

With a Whimper, not even a sound

CN: moar chronic pain vs codeine discussion, discrimination, 

 

So as you know, codeine was shoved off onto prescription only as of February of this year. That was five months ago. I told you at the time that a previously considerate GP turned into a threatening ‘you really only have anxiety’ monster after a single telephone consultation with the state rehab people, because “the head doctor” said people only take codeine because it hides anxiety and pain will go away with mental health treatment. You know I was lucky enough to find a new GP, who initially gave me not a small amount of grief, but settled into prescribing me just-under-two-weeks worth every two weeks and didn’t ask where I made up the rest. You know he found something actually wrong, for which I’m going through testing, waiting, and more waiting.

 

You may have even gathered that things were looking better for me – I was establishing a new routine, I wasn’t terrified of going to the doctor because I didn’t know if I’d get a script or have to fight for it or go through another unwanted, traumatic test in order to get it.

 

Today, when I left the room, the receptionist kept offering me tissues and then, instead of letting me type to her, shoved me off into a private room and locked me in.

 

Clearly, something changed.

 

Continue reading With a Whimper, not even a sound