Well, this is fun
I seriously hate my body. It seems I just get things going for me and not dying of pain and then BOOM! Something comes along to make me hurt ridiculously again. I'm living on the couch again.Joy.
I was finally able to make it to see someone at the clinic on FRIDAY. I got a call on Wednesday night saying that I could see someone the next morning. Since Sis had a test at school and Mom HAD to go to her teaching job, I had to ask for something Friday morning. Sis was supposed to take me, but she wussed out (she hates driving long distances on the highway which is a serious handicap in Houston), which forced Mom to get up super-early to haul my ass down south. Mom went in to see if there was a wheelchair available so I wouldn't have to stumble past like a turtle on my walker all the way into the clinic. The security guard, Vonda, gave her attitude saying that people were already using them and I would just have to deal. This pissed Mom off SO MUCH. Thankfully, there were a few teenage volunteers working, one of whom went to fetch a chair for me. However, as we were waiting to be called back, Vonda came to take the wheelchair back from me. Mom was seriously pissed by this point. I said that I had possibly broken both ankles and that putting weight on them was NOT A GOOD IDEA and so telling me that I couldn't use a wheelchair AT A CLINIC was ridiculous and cruel. I started to cry when she basically forced me to stand up and move into a stationary chair. She then swore that as soon as my name was called, we could let the nurse know, and they'd come bring me a new wheelchair. Naturally, as soon as Vonda left with the chair, the nurse called us. It took another 10 minutes to scrounge up a new chair (without foot paddles, of course). Once we got back to the nurses' station, the nurse said that she had already called another patient and we'd have to go back to the waiting room. Mom started spurting steam out of her ears. I said that it was unfair that I should be forced to continue waiting because Vonda took away my wheelchair. They finally put us back in one of the isolation rooms so Mom wouldn't keep making a fuss. (I had to finally say, "Look. I know you're trying to help and protect me, but I need to be the one to talk to these people since it's my injury.") Vonda came back with ONE foot pedal and tried to explain the wheelchair situation - basically, people steal them all of the time so they're constantly in short supply. I started crying saying that it was ridiculous that I should have to walk on broken ankles because they couldn't keep track of their chairs. She said that I shouldn't have even expected that because it wasn't the hospital and I probably would have had better luck at the hospital in the first place. I gave her the "Have you EVER BEEN THERE?!? Because I don't think you'd be saying that if you did" speech. She started back pedaling like crazy because she could tell that I was totally not okay with how I'd been treated.
The nurse practitioner I saw was nice, but pretty much useless. She took some x-rays and gave me some ultram (which I can't take because it interacts with my psych meds - the ONE THING I asked her to check before prescribing). She said that the xrays would go to the radiologists at Ben Taub to be read and she'd get the report back sometime Monday or Tuesday. At that point, the radiologist would recommend whether to follow up with a CT or MRI (which I feel is completely necessary since I KNOW I did some major connective and soft tissue damage from the swelling and the horrific noise my ankles made). I haven't heard yet. Oh! And I asked for a couple of walking boots to support my ankles at least. We were told that because of budget shortfalls, they stopped being able to carry them. (I have already written and sent a very strongly worded letter to Gov. Perry outlining exactly how much his cutting medical funding and refusing to implement the ACA affects real people in real ways.) So I've been hobbling around for a whole week on two ankles with definitely torn/detached ligaments/tendons but with no treatment besides a couple of ace wraps and vicodin. I can't tell you how scared I am that I have done something major and, because of the slowness of getting any treatment, I will end up with permanent damage that will screw up my ability to walk for the rest of my life. I'm trying not to dwell on that possibility, however, because it just makes me cry when I think about it.
Most likely, Mom will have to go to the medical supply store when she gets paid on Friday and buy me a matching boot to the one that we found from the LAST time I did this (where the other one is, we have no idea).
Mom was freaking out a little this morning. She starts her first shift teaching at the psych hospital today. She's working 7-3, which is the worst possible shift they could have given her since she works the 3-11 at the other psych hospital. This means that on days where she works the Tuesday before her Weds morning teaching, she has to immediately hit the bed and get as many hours of sleep as she can before waking up at 4:30am. So, basically, most of the time her Wednesdays will always be worked on sleep deprivation. However, I'm incredibly proud of her, think she's amazing, and know she'll kick ass at this because she's smart, capable, and a great teacher. I can't think of another 63-year-old woman who would work two jobs to pay for the house, cars, and other expenses for not only herself, but for her two grown daughters, whether they have medical issues or not. Especially right now, where she not only is starting this new job, dealing with the idiots that are support staff for the school (short story: the chick who works for DeVry - the school that Chamberlain Nursing is a part of - that is in charge of "on-boarding" the new staff is a moron who input Mom's birthdate wrong into the background check request so the background check only came back last Thursday. This girl also didn't mention that the first thing that Mom needed to do was go to a specific place to get her drug screening done so that Mom could get her employee number. That test only came back on Friday. And the admin assistant for the school only just put in the request for Mom's business cards and personalized lab coat YESTERDAY. WTF. At least Mom can wear scrubs - awesome - and was able to borrow a lab coat for today), and having to take extra care of me.
I did, however, have some good happen: I emailed my teacher Friday morning letting her know the situation and that I most likely wouldn't be able to do my assignments and quizzes by the due date sunday night due to the pain, immobility, and not being all that together from the pain meds. She got back to me Monday afternoon saying that she understood and extended the assignment due date for me until yesterday night which allowed me to get all of my assignments and quizzes done without penalty. I have a test this week, but there's no way I'll be able to make it. She said I'd be able to make up one test, so I'm good there. She also gave us a study guide that's ACTUALLY USEFUL, so I'm very thankful for that - not having to memorize all of the 206 bones in the body is fantastic - though I'll probably go back and study what I will have to skip over in order to keep up with the class. I can't tell you how thankful I am that my class is online only, because I know I would have had to withdraw had I had a classroom class. This means that I need to take whatever my fall classes are online, too, because I won't have the ability to get to class by the time school starts in August (not to mention Sis and Mom will have the cars almost constantly all fall).
At least I'm constantly surrounded by cats. Meg spends at least half of the day asleep at the edge of the sofa at my feet. Cole, Bob, Monsieur, and Leo rotate cuddling or sitting near me. Kitteh luvs is healing.
Also, take a look at the bruises. This was on Friday. They've gotten a lot more purple since then:
Its' a lot more painful than it looks, believe me. And all of that swelling is WITH the ace wraps, ice, and elevation. At least the edema is slowly going down. However, this means that things are starting to click and pop in the joint space more, which is a BAD VERY BAD HOLY CRAP BAD thing.
Final thought: public health care SUCKS SO HARD THAT IF NOT CONTAINED COULD CAUSE A BLACK HOLE.
I was finally able to make it to see someone at the clinic on FRIDAY. I got a call on Wednesday night saying that I could see someone the next morning. Since Sis had a test at school and Mom HAD to go to her teaching job, I had to ask for something Friday morning. Sis was supposed to take me, but she wussed out (she hates driving long distances on the highway which is a serious handicap in Houston), which forced Mom to get up super-early to haul my ass down south. Mom went in to see if there was a wheelchair available so I wouldn't have to stumble past like a turtle on my walker all the way into the clinic. The security guard, Vonda, gave her attitude saying that people were already using them and I would just have to deal. This pissed Mom off SO MUCH. Thankfully, there were a few teenage volunteers working, one of whom went to fetch a chair for me. However, as we were waiting to be called back, Vonda came to take the wheelchair back from me. Mom was seriously pissed by this point. I said that I had possibly broken both ankles and that putting weight on them was NOT A GOOD IDEA and so telling me that I couldn't use a wheelchair AT A CLINIC was ridiculous and cruel. I started to cry when she basically forced me to stand up and move into a stationary chair. She then swore that as soon as my name was called, we could let the nurse know, and they'd come bring me a new wheelchair. Naturally, as soon as Vonda left with the chair, the nurse called us. It took another 10 minutes to scrounge up a new chair (without foot paddles, of course). Once we got back to the nurses' station, the nurse said that she had already called another patient and we'd have to go back to the waiting room. Mom started spurting steam out of her ears. I said that it was unfair that I should be forced to continue waiting because Vonda took away my wheelchair. They finally put us back in one of the isolation rooms so Mom wouldn't keep making a fuss. (I had to finally say, "Look. I know you're trying to help and protect me, but I need to be the one to talk to these people since it's my injury.") Vonda came back with ONE foot pedal and tried to explain the wheelchair situation - basically, people steal them all of the time so they're constantly in short supply. I started crying saying that it was ridiculous that I should have to walk on broken ankles because they couldn't keep track of their chairs. She said that I shouldn't have even expected that because it wasn't the hospital and I probably would have had better luck at the hospital in the first place. I gave her the "Have you EVER BEEN THERE?!? Because I don't think you'd be saying that if you did" speech. She started back pedaling like crazy because she could tell that I was totally not okay with how I'd been treated.
The nurse practitioner I saw was nice, but pretty much useless. She took some x-rays and gave me some ultram (which I can't take because it interacts with my psych meds - the ONE THING I asked her to check before prescribing). She said that the xrays would go to the radiologists at Ben Taub to be read and she'd get the report back sometime Monday or Tuesday. At that point, the radiologist would recommend whether to follow up with a CT or MRI (which I feel is completely necessary since I KNOW I did some major connective and soft tissue damage from the swelling and the horrific noise my ankles made). I haven't heard yet. Oh! And I asked for a couple of walking boots to support my ankles at least. We were told that because of budget shortfalls, they stopped being able to carry them. (I have already written and sent a very strongly worded letter to Gov. Perry outlining exactly how much his cutting medical funding and refusing to implement the ACA affects real people in real ways.) So I've been hobbling around for a whole week on two ankles with definitely torn/detached ligaments/tendons but with no treatment besides a couple of ace wraps and vicodin. I can't tell you how scared I am that I have done something major and, because of the slowness of getting any treatment, I will end up with permanent damage that will screw up my ability to walk for the rest of my life. I'm trying not to dwell on that possibility, however, because it just makes me cry when I think about it.
Most likely, Mom will have to go to the medical supply store when she gets paid on Friday and buy me a matching boot to the one that we found from the LAST time I did this (where the other one is, we have no idea).
Mom was freaking out a little this morning. She starts her first shift teaching at the psych hospital today. She's working 7-3, which is the worst possible shift they could have given her since she works the 3-11 at the other psych hospital. This means that on days where she works the Tuesday before her Weds morning teaching, she has to immediately hit the bed and get as many hours of sleep as she can before waking up at 4:30am. So, basically, most of the time her Wednesdays will always be worked on sleep deprivation. However, I'm incredibly proud of her, think she's amazing, and know she'll kick ass at this because she's smart, capable, and a great teacher. I can't think of another 63-year-old woman who would work two jobs to pay for the house, cars, and other expenses for not only herself, but for her two grown daughters, whether they have medical issues or not. Especially right now, where she not only is starting this new job, dealing with the idiots that are support staff for the school (short story: the chick who works for DeVry - the school that Chamberlain Nursing is a part of - that is in charge of "on-boarding" the new staff is a moron who input Mom's birthdate wrong into the background check request so the background check only came back last Thursday. This girl also didn't mention that the first thing that Mom needed to do was go to a specific place to get her drug screening done so that Mom could get her employee number. That test only came back on Friday. And the admin assistant for the school only just put in the request for Mom's business cards and personalized lab coat YESTERDAY. WTF. At least Mom can wear scrubs - awesome - and was able to borrow a lab coat for today), and having to take extra care of me.
I did, however, have some good happen: I emailed my teacher Friday morning letting her know the situation and that I most likely wouldn't be able to do my assignments and quizzes by the due date sunday night due to the pain, immobility, and not being all that together from the pain meds. She got back to me Monday afternoon saying that she understood and extended the assignment due date for me until yesterday night which allowed me to get all of my assignments and quizzes done without penalty. I have a test this week, but there's no way I'll be able to make it. She said I'd be able to make up one test, so I'm good there. She also gave us a study guide that's ACTUALLY USEFUL, so I'm very thankful for that - not having to memorize all of the 206 bones in the body is fantastic - though I'll probably go back and study what I will have to skip over in order to keep up with the class. I can't tell you how thankful I am that my class is online only, because I know I would have had to withdraw had I had a classroom class. This means that I need to take whatever my fall classes are online, too, because I won't have the ability to get to class by the time school starts in August (not to mention Sis and Mom will have the cars almost constantly all fall).
At least I'm constantly surrounded by cats. Meg spends at least half of the day asleep at the edge of the sofa at my feet. Cole, Bob, Monsieur, and Leo rotate cuddling or sitting near me. Kitteh luvs is healing.
Also, take a look at the bruises. This was on Friday. They've gotten a lot more purple since then:
Its' a lot more painful than it looks, believe me. And all of that swelling is WITH the ace wraps, ice, and elevation. At least the edema is slowly going down. However, this means that things are starting to click and pop in the joint space more, which is a BAD VERY BAD HOLY CRAP BAD thing.
Final thought: public health care SUCKS SO HARD THAT IF NOT CONTAINED COULD CAUSE A BLACK HOLE.