I’m a little angry. My hands are tied with therapy. I’m not going to go in the wheelchair then leave it outside while I go up the stairs and in the door. Transportation to his office could smooth out if I used indygo or the CICOA rides, but the problem remains – I can’t get out of my building without a wheelchair and I can’t get into his with one. When I told him today, he wasn’t pleased. Well, what on earth am I to do? The man suggested I ask someone from the Hall. I have. People work. Right now it’s remote but eventually they’ll go back to normal and won’t be available. I told him, I don’t know how to fix this. 4:46pm
6:33pm I’m exhausted. I had to sleep and try again.
Dr D didn’t have a lot to say about the clots. I told him where I’m having tests and a possible ablation. He was put at ease with that.
We talked for about 10 minutes about why I don’t accept blood, ever, under any circumstances. He did not bother to try to change my stance. He listened quietly. I told him that I am nervous because of my health but that there are ways to stop bleeding if I get into the ablation and there’s an issue. I’m going to a specific hospital, the one I went to for the big hospitalization. My Hematologist and surgeon work at that hospital. I’m better served going there for big and minor issues.
We hung up b4 figuring out how to get me in a building that continues to lean on the grandfather law and will not make the building handicapped accessible. When it boils down to it, that building is the problem.
Lastly, I was able to work on my gratitude journal for the first time this month. It felt really good to sit there and punch out a few paragraphs and draw a small illustration concerning weakness and power. I really enjoy writing in that journal.