All together now: good, healing, strengthening and peaceful thoughts to our Greta…… Today’s her surgery day, and I woke thinking of her. That’s one passionate, wildly interesting woman who NEEDS to be able to see her glorious world.
And speaking of health, damn, I hope my mother has giardia. There. That’s a sentence I never thought I’d write. But she’s been so sick for the past few months, losing so much weight and feeling crummy, every day. She ran all the tests to make sure the colon cancer hadn’t come back, and did more tests, and then some more. The worst part is that she lives in a small-town rural area with very few doctors that accept her medical plan (the only plan that works for them, and the PPO cost at open-enrollment was just prohibitive). So she has to go to a fuckwad of a doctor, who, the last time she saw her, never entered the room fully, standing in the doorway WITH HER ARMS CROSSED. Mom had armed herself with a list of questions and self-diagnoses and Dad, and the doctor (if she deserves to be called that) got away in under four minutes, answering and prescribing nothing, saying “This isn’t my field, I just can’t help you.” But this is her primary doctor, and she needs her approval for all the referrals, and there’s no one else accepting new patients in the area.
Bitter? Why would you say that?
But good news: Mom kicked and screamed (in her very polite quiet New Zealand way) until she obtained the referral to the gastro-guy, who said (after a four-week wait to get an appointment),
GG – You been camping?
Mom – Yes.
GG – The mountains? Yosemite?
Mom – Yes.
GG – When?
Mom – Late August.
GG – And you’ve been sick since *flip of the chart* late August?
Mom – Oh!
She first got started feeling this way the DAY she got back from Strawberry Music Festival. Here’s a snap of her, waving the three girls in their three cars on their way…. (way zoomed in, she was a speck on the original)
It’s treatable with a five day (nasty) antibiotic treatment, so DAMN, I hope she has giardia.
I just think that’s funny.
Hey, Beth’s back on the road! And she’s cold! I think she’s in Iowa. The goal is for her to get to Atlanta by Saturday, when Christy’s flying out to meet her and they’ll tramp about for six days and then fly back together for Christmas, leaving her home/truck in the long-term parking lot. They’re both so cool.
Good wishes to Greta indeed. And to your mom as well…doctors can be such pricks sometimes, ya know? It’s not like they’re not getting paid enough…
And good wishes to you as well!! 🙂
Adding you momma to my thinking-good-thoughts list! And, dang, now what am I going to do with all these postcards I never sent Bethany?
It’s amazing how some of the most vital information sources do not know how to communicate with people!!! I’m studying medical comm., hoping to improve that somehow because it’s so frustrating. They just started requiring med students to take communication classes. It’s about time. 🙂 Hope your mom recovers quickly!
mad love to your mom and a hot, wet ass-whoopin’ to her doctor!
Oh, I hope your little mama does recover quickly! What an adorable photo. How many times has my mom stood waving at me as I drive away? Moms aren’t supposed to get sick! Seriously, it’s disturbing when they do, isn’t it? And how do fuckwads get to be doctors anyway? When they die they’ll go to a special doctor hell, where they’ll be in pain but no one will help them.
(I’m NOT a vicious person, but REALLY!)
Oh, hon, I hope she’s got the can-be-cured-quickly-with-antibiotics illness, too.
Much love, sugar.
I hope the nasty medicine works. Speedy recovery to your Momala! What a horrible doctor, though–I’ve had nasty doctors before too, and the experience, even if I walk away with a prescription, is just humiliating and demoralizing. There must be a special doctor hell, like Ali says.
A big can of whoop-ass for your mom’s doc and heaps of good wishes for mom and Greta!
Welcome back! Hey, I totally hope your mom is okay. The healthcare situation in this county SUCKS. It is SO difficult to find good doctors. On the other hand, the hospice care is wonderful. A friend and I were joking that SLO County should have the slogan, “SLO County–a good place to die.” Morbid. Anyway, I Hope your mom did manage to find some decent doctors. There are a couple of them around …
I hope all goes well with your mom. My uncle Poot (now this guy’s life is worth a book writing) is a lumber jack. He worked for years in the mountains out west somewhere. He lived in an old trailer in the mountains. He cut trees and sent them down the river. He saw other humans about once a week when he went to town. And he pooped in the woods.
He developed this terrible illness. They thought he was dying. They couldn’t figure out what it was. He eventually went to Mayo, where he underwent a series of tests. He stayed there for weeks and his health declined. His siblings came to say goodbye. Then a miracle happened. At Mayo, they figured out he had developed a severe allergic reaction to the leaves with which he wiped his a**. (there are s’s under the **) It caused some autoimmune thing. He was fixed up with antibiotics and steroids.
For the record, I love the word fuckwa*. (there’s a d under the *)