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So you remember last week when Dr Reimer's office, with whom I have had a new-patient appointment scheduled since February, called to say they weren't taking any new patients now? And I called back, and talked to someone who assured me that my appointment was not cancelled? So I showed up for my appointment today. It was cancelled. Sorry for the inconvenience. But we're not taking new patients, so there's nothing I can do for you.
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I got a phone message from my new doctor's office, telling me that neither my new doctor nor anyone else on their panel was accepting new patients, offering me the phone number for Associates in Family Medicine, and signing off with "I hope that helps!"

I called back to protest that my appointment had been scheduled eight months ago. Eventually got to talk to a person, who agreed that my appointment existed and I should not have gotten that phone call.

I don't know what I'd have done otherwise; the reason that I agreed to wait eight months for an intake visit was that I won't go to Associates in Family Medicine, who still employ Dr Steven B. Tippin (*spit*).

I was just thinking about Dr Tippin (*spit*) the other day, when someone posted about the problem of having to present the correct affect in order to get medical care instead of being brushed off as a hysterical woman. Women, of course, are always untrustworthy; pregnant (or menstruating, or premenstrual, or menopausal) women doubly so; and then there's Hysterical Hispanic Syndrome, which is endemic here in Colorado. So of course when I noticed, near the end of my first pregnancy, that the baby's movements were decreasing, I made sure to stay calm and serious as I described it to Dr Tippin (*spit*). He appeared to take me seriously. He asked if there had been a sudden drop-off. I said no, it was very gradual[*], but clearly decreasing from one week to the next. He listened to the baby's heartbeat for 15 seconds, multiplied that by 4, and told me everything was fine.

My mom, who was an ER nurse, said that the doctor must have dismissed my concerns because I seemed like a hysterical pregnant woman. I said no, I had been very careful not to. My mom didn't miss a beat: she said the doctor must have dismissed my concerns because I didn't seem concerned enough.

At the next visit I evinced more distress. I reminded him that I had brought up this concern last time. I said that the baby's movements had continued to dwindle, gradually but persistently, in strength and frequency. He listened to the baby's heartbeat for 15 seconds, multiplied that number by 4, and told me everything was fine.

At the next visit, Dr Tippin (*spit*) yelled at me for not knowing that the baby had stopped moving forever.

That's Dr Steven B. Tippin (*spit*), still practicing with Associates in Family Medicine in Fort Collins, CO.

I do realize that Dr Tippin (*spit*) was yelling at me to drown out whatever small noise his stunted shriveled conscience was still capable of making, but you know that moment in Prince Caspian when Susan has to acknowledge that she saw Aslan, she knew they were going in the wrong direction, she didn't fight for what she knew because... she doesn't even know anymore, but something feeble? That's me.

[*]If you are ever pregnant and worried about whether the baby's movements are decreasing, do kick counts.

a bit much

Feb. 23rd, 2015 04:20 pm
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My hard drive died. So far it has been an opportunity to resolve to be better at backups, and to dust all the areas in and around the desk that are normally inaccessible (to me, not to mice), and to regret having given up Benadryl, and to discover that a big chunk of insulation has been chewed off the cable that connects the monitor to the computer, and to be grateful that I didn't discover that when the power was turned on. And to resolve to set mousetraps, if I can find places where the mice can get at them but Newt can't. And to notice all the other things that need cleaning that normally don't get cleaned because normally I have better things to do because normally I have a computer. And to think about trying to recall or retrieve all the passwords that I normally let my browser remember for me. And to mourn over everything else that I depend on my browser to remember for me, like, which of all the episodes of Would I Lie To You? that are available on youtube have I already watched?

Does watching another episode of Would I Lie To You? actually make me happier than sorting out all the crap that has accumulated in that corner of the living room? I don't know, but I know which one I choose when I have the choice.

Today I got a call from the surgeon's office, to say, still not cancer, but the medial margin of the chunk she took out is positive for papilloma, so I should get that re-excised. She'll call me tomorrow morning if I have any questions.

My sleep cycle has been really off since the surgery. Much more likely to be awake at 2 a.m. than 2 p.m. Mornings go: wake up, let the dogs out, pee, make a cup of tea, go back to bed. Tomorrow I will try to stay awake long enough to drink the tea.

I would like to ask the surgeon, "If this were your mother, would you advise her to have it re-excised? Seriously? You're a surgeon, you must know that every time you put someone under you increase their risk of developing dementia. How do you calculate the risk-benefit tradeoff? When you factor in that it has already cost your mother a large amount of money and considerable suffering, and that the reason for surgery was that there's this thing that shows up on mammograms that isn't cancer but might be hiding some cancer, you would seriously tell your mother, that didn't work so do it again? Seriously?"

It is not likely that I will be able to say any of that past the first question mark but I would like to.
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Also had really annoying phone conversation with my doctor who decided to take that opportunity to reopen the question of why I was not taking statins. "Why is it," I asked her in return, "that in all the times you've told me I should be taking statins, you've never mentioned any possible side-effects? You've never talked about the pros and cons, only the pros."

"Oh," she said, "well the only likely side-effects are some people get aches, and sometimes they just can't tolerate them." And then she went into her rant about American diet and American cholesterol levels and she used to see two heart attacks a year but now she sees two a week and so on. And I just sat there and listened to it. I got distracted by the rant, and forgot about my question, which she didn't even pretend to answer, which was not "what are the side-effects of statins?"

My question was, why didn't her recommendation to take statins come with information about the pros and cons in the first place? Does she really think it's okay to only give me the information that supports her decision?
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I got a flu shot and an appointment for a vaginal ultrasound to look for fibroids yay. Last time I took my blood pressure at the grocery store it was 112/82. When the nurse took it it was a bit high, which it always is -- but what do you expect when you measure my blood pressure right after you have me step on the scale? Then, when the doctor took it it was 150-something over 90-something, which is actually not bad for immediately after talking to this doctor. My last two visits with her, it was 170-something over 100-something when she took it.

I have talked to her about the specific things she does that ring my alarm bells but it doesn't seem to make any difference. She questioned me, as usual, about my employment status and my employment prospects and my employment history. I gave the same answers I always give. She repeated my answers back to me with a questioning inflection. I would be able to believe that her intentions were friendly if she didn't repeat what I said back to me with a questioning inflection! And if she didn't ask me the same questions every time even though my answers haven't changed in years.

At least this time she did not ask, "Don't you ever get tired of not working?"
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I have uploaded a video, and I think you can watch it:

Me, telling a story. Just over six minutes. All feedback welcome.

ETA: Warning for mention of bad pregnancy outcome.

ETFA: This story is actually meant to be funny. If it made you laugh, or came close, I'd be glad to know that. I'd be especially glad to know where it made you laugh.


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