He said I’m just a ball of pain and that I need to stop blowing steam at him. I stopped, looked at him and said, Did you just tell me to stop telling you I’m in pain. He said, yes, because its nonsense. Then he said, “I’m just telling it like it is. I shoot from the hip.” I pointed to the nearly 40 frames on one wall having to do with his military career and congressional awards and I said, “You’re a soldier, are you?” I said, “Some people aren’t soldiers. Some people don’t shoot from the hip or like being shot at, at all.” I explained that if he didn’t believe me then that’s one thing, but to say, “stop blowing that steam” and tell me I’m speaking nonsense isn’t an acceptable way to speak to me.

He became nicer for a minute but then decided to give a double dose of nasty. He said, “You’re a ball of pain and you’re going to have to live with it. There’s nothing anyone can do, no cure, nothing.” I said, and that’s what makes my relationship with God so important because otherwise this just isn’t worth it. It isn’t worth it to be in this amount of pain all of the time if I don’t have any hope. He said, “God can’t help you.” As I began wiping away tears I said, “I’m sorry if you feel that God can’t help you but I am helped, each and every single day I am helped.” He said, “Sometimes God doesn’t answer the phone.”

It was another typical doctor appointment. He said he didn’t know why I was even at his office and that clearly the doctor I have is new because new doctors panic and start wanting to know why, why, why when the answer is clear. I said, what’s the answer. He didn’t give me one. He acted like he didn’t hear me. I asked again, again he refused to answer.

I went to the appointment today, not for answers, but because I have to at least appear to believe that a doctor is going to assist in some way.

I do not believe anyone who tells me that there’s nothing that can be done for me and that not even God can help me. Even if he doesn’t believe in God, as a doctor he should have really heard me. He should have heard the desperation in my voice and withheld the kick to the stomach with his opinion. For the love of all that is Holy, that hospital prides itself on being one of the most religious hospitals in the city. It’s the only one I’ve seen nuns walking around in the hospital.

As far as the Lyrica goes, we’re going down on the dose, not stopping completely. We’ll see what this does. If things don’t improve then we’ll stop it all together. The neurological doctor said that Lyrica and Cymbalta together is too much medication. He disagreed with the dosage of Zanaflex, too. I disagree with the amount of Zanaflex but it helps with the leg spasms, which the neuro doc says I’m exaggerating about. Basically, to him I’m just a ball of pain who is exaggerating.

I did my crying because I was totally shocked at the cold hearted nature of this man but, I have chosen to cry it out instead of hold on to it. He is very much an idiot, very cold. I don’t have to own his problems.

Soothing Tea: Lemongrass, ginger and Oolong.
The lemongrass and ginger were both grown here at home.
This mix is similar to Thai Oolong. I didn’t add the licorice this time and I substituted regular Oolong for Milk Oolong.


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2 thoughts on “Neurology appointment. I’m not a soldier.

  1. Wow, I hardly know what to say. I’ve met some rude doctors in my life but this one wins the prize. I’m so sorry you had to deal with this on top of everything else. Do you have to go back to him or will you be finding a new neurologist?

    Sounds like he needs some prayer, bad!

  2. Yeah. He gets a prize all right, jerk of the year. It floored me when he had the nerve to tell me that God can’t help me and that sometimes God doesn’t answer the phone. Thank goodness all evidence proves the contrary.

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