Tag: medicine

the slappy hand of justice

A shitty doctor who gave me bad medical care 17 years ago is now up on FORTY SEVEN FELONY COUNTS for doing, well, what he did to me: overcharging and charging for nonexistent services.

Odd that I reported him back then and only now is the bastard on the hook. You don’t forget a name like “Mario Rosenberg.” (He’s an Argentine.)

The guy literally stuck something up my ass and then overcharged me for it. I recall telling my next doctor the story and he said “Mario did that?” Yeah, and Luigi helped.

mr pharmacist

The pharmacy just before 6 am. There’s nothing like it! It’s a Hopper painting with bonus bad R&B muzak and the smell of floor cleaner.

I bet this is what Death will be. Slightly dirty white floors, sterile piped-in music, waiting on plastic chairs, bright and cheerful signs about terrible things, and waiting for someone in a white coat to do something about the god-damned pain.

Comic relief: my pharmacist was Mrs.Doubtfire again. It’s not that she’s transgender. This is Southern California and no one cares. It’s that she seems to have modeled herself exactly on La Doubtfire. I was wondering if I would be a victin of a walk-by fruiting as I left.

When the haze of the stupid pain pills disappears I am going on a walk. Yeah, you heard me. A god-damned walk! In the NATURE BITS!

MEAT IS MURDER EVEN IF IT IS YOURS AND ALIVE.

If the Medical Establishment doesn’t get its ass in gear by about, oh, noon tomorrow and deal with my problem I am going to carry out the first completely left-handed mass murder in history. Currently I have had no useful help from my “primary” internal medicine physician, a physical therapy clinic, a neurologist, and a pharmacy. My best improvements have come from Home Science investigating my shoulder and what makes it feel better. I have, I think, successfully diagnosed a rotator cuff inflammation or tear. If they’d just fucking tell me whether it’s a tear or not I’d write them a check.

Last week the neurologist, who is currently “investigating” me and ordered the MRI, was out of town. No one told me this and I was leaving increasingly testy messages on his scheduler’s voicemail. She didn’t call me back. Finally I called the internal medicine office, because he’d said: If they don’t call back, don’t worry. The doctor is great but the office is a nightmare. Call me. Two minutes after that call, the schedule for the neurologist called me back. Why is this all being done Soviet style?

Currently I am self-medicating with alcohol. Yes, I know that’s stupid. Tomorrow I shall explain to any doctor who answers or returns my calls that I am sliding into Under the Volcano and I need either medically approved relief or a plan for fixing the problem: preferably necessarily both.

Otherwise I will show up wild-eyed and unshaven at the emergency room demanding some combination of opiates, steroids, acupuncture, inaccupuncture. sodomy, and surgery. I’ve had it! So, it’ll be fixed I’m sure.

Finally I’d like to say that I have only been reading back a screen or so a day of the LJ because after I’ve done work and blathered my own posts and had 8.9 margaritas and hugged the cat I still can’t do that much web browsing without flailing and moaning in pain. Yes, that’s self-pity. Yes, it’s for real.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: bodies are overrated.

Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Twitching Arm

Shoulder somewhat better but still fucked up. I have a very odd sensation in there, almost an itch, and I’m all spasmy. I’d make a great deformed murderer from an old movie right now, a la Peter Lorre.

I see a physical therapist on Friday. Per hensatc‘s recommendation I am going to a place where all the clinical staff are also certified athletic trainers: Prosport Physical Therapy. I hope they’ll forgive me for being very unathletic.

Since I mostly buy stuff on the internet now, I get the Joy of Package Delivery often. I really like getting a parcel and opening it. Today I got two Pendleton shirts and some geekbooks I need for work.

If I haven’t read and commented on you lately, it’s not ’cause I hate you, it’s ’cause I am reserving my limited typing endurance for work.

tendons and muscles and nerves and me

My shoulder is trashed. It really hurts, just about all the time. Doctor on Friday. I feel like an idiot for not going weeks ago when it wasn’t that bad. I hope I don’t have double secret rotator cuff explosion requiring Civil War surgery with a saw.

I have a bad habit of doing the boiled frog and making something like this normal until I suddenly realize that it’s very abnormal. In this case I was feeling a bit nauseated from pain and unable to find a comfortable position ever before I called the doctor. Doh.

Ow ow, OW.

Deus Ex Miller Faucher and Cafferty L.L.P.

Just as I was running out of money (temporarily) because the government thingy was being slow and bureaucratic and dumb, something happens that never, ever happens. I was part of the class in a class action suit against SmithKline Beecham about Paxil. They lied about withdrawal symptoms, essentially.

Based on the (large) amount of money I spent on Paxil over the years, I just got a check for $477.08.

Suck it, Smith and Kline and Beecham. That withdrawal was worth more than $477.08 in pain to me, but I’m glad to have it right now.

The world of drug ads again

Another visit to the doctor means more scanned-in drug ads! Hurray! First off we have the “Healthy Lifestyles” brochure from the Lilly company. It’s actually not for one of their drugs but for a “stop eating so damn much” plan that is no doubt intended to go with a diet pill or something. They were attempting to show the bountiful beauteous cornucopia of joy that is a HEALTHTY LIFESTYLE! but the cultural resonance of the picture they chose is unfortunate. I cropped it to the “good part.”

eden who

Next we have

The Lilly people are also advertising their antidepressant Cymbalta. Men have ADD and women have depression, so their model for this ad is the typical middle-aged middle-class woman considering her symptoms. I cropped off the top which asks which of these are symptoms of depression? and the bottom that tells you to talk to your doctor about all of your symptoms, no doubt because the list they have adds up to a prescription for Cymbalta. I like it with just the middle bit:

symptoms of buying our stuff