In California, they call them Community Health Centers (CHC).  Apparently, the idea is going National because I heard Dr. Sanja Gupta talk about them on CNN. The truth of the matter is that in the Center, (Clinic), you have a choice of one doctor if you live in a rural town like I do. This doctor could be what they call a traveling doctor, and be there for a length of three months, or you might get a doctor with a longer contract, but they are all temporary. Right before I  started writing this blog, which I wanted to be positive, I transferred from the clinic in my town, which was convenient for me, to a Clinic in a City thirty minutes away.  I did this because I received the most unprofessional, negligent, abusive treatment that I had ever experienced in the health care field  in my adult life . This doctor certainly crossed the line and I left the Clinic. I called the powers that be to get complaint forms, but I have yet to muster  the strength to fill them out and send them in. I called the program administrators and I was told there was no time limit.  Since I am disabled and I cannot drive and my bowels are, at times, incontinent, the prospect of having to travel further to receive health care sometimes seems logistically impossible, but my  new mantra is what ever I have to do.

I haven’t written in my blog in awhile because I was beginning an experience with a new pain doctor. He is Harvard trained and is a minimalist, so he and I are going to get along just fine. He gave me injections in the back of my head, my temples, and right above my  eyebrows. My entire head felt numb. For four glorious days after the injections, I did not have a headache. I almost don’t know how to write that, because I have never gone a day without a headache since long  before I can remember. I am told that the time between the injections will increase as the pain relief does. He also put me on a medication that is meant to prevent migraine headaches and also prevents seizures, which I also have. 

 I was also waiting to see my new primary doctor. She had been my physician back in the early nineties, but I didn’t remember much  about her. When I was speaking to  the doctor I was losing, I asked her about the two physicians that where available, which one would she pick. She described the female doctor as being motherly and although I didn’t remember her that way, I followed my doctor’s recommendation and went with her. I even brought up the subject of salient treatment and my doctor said my new physician was against suffering and would therefore be for it if it came to a point that I could not tolerate food and I would therefore starve to death, which  is very painful and inhumane.  That particular doctor saw how hard it was for me to  go from weighing  96 pounds and unable to walk through a grocery store without defecating from one end of the store to the other to get to the restroom, to where I am teetering today.  Maybe there has been a change in this doctor through the years , but time proved that not to be the case.

This entire blog has been about my struggle to  find a balance in my pharmaceutical needs, my dietary needs, vitamins and minerals, and the delicate levels of electrolytes. I learned in my research, that diet plays a large part in balancing nutrients. I could avoid getting iron IVs, which takes sitting basically in one position for six hours.  But, there were those occasions where I needed vitamin or mineral supplements or other types of medications that have come to bepart of my routine. My new primary doctor believes that I can do without many of my medications. She looked at me and made a point to say in amazement, how do you take all those pills. I tried to explain how hard I worked to find a balance and I felt like she just dismissed me. So, I feel as though I have been fighting since I first got sick in 2005. I am not sure how much fight I have left. It hurts to eat, but like I told the doctor, I’m not going to do anything about it. My mantra is what ever I have to do. I am scared and hopeless all rolled up into one ball.

Take care and I’ll write again,

Elaine