Originally posted via GoDaddy Blog site 2 May 2021. Copied like for like 21/03/2024.
Mrs Stevie is always going on about how I am too stubborn and how I should attend the doctors surgery when I have complications, pains or other ailments. I myself have had far too many bad experiences with doctors and other medical & health professionals to even want to set myself up for another fall. It is such failings which spur me on to “suck it up” and crack on with the theory that it will go away eventually. Their is a high possibility this mentality will be the reason I will shuffle off this mortal coil early in life. That being said, I am sure my mentality is highly justified, given most of my visits to health practitioners end in me being fobbed off, insulted, ignored or in my first memorable negative encounter, left to Die.
Other instances happened during my childhood such as torn ligaments diagnosed when I had a fracture however it is my last encounter with the family GP, Dr Butler which started the downward spiral of trust with medical professionals. Given all the trauma I was already being put through, it would be understandable that my cries of excruciating pain in my sinus area and migraines could be brushed off as fictional. After all, I was at that time, five years into my abuse, taking daily beatings at school and I had only had a cup kicked at my face with a steal toe-capped boot a week before through the abuse I was receiving in my own home. The issue is however, most of this trauma was hidden from the world and those who knew one trauma, didn’t know about the others etc. So when I am telling my mother about the pains I am feeling in my head and face, she tells me to f@$k off to school because she didn’t want me “under her feet”. As the pain worsened, the cries for help were continually ignored and brushed off until I awoke with with a slight swelling on my face. I remember being told that it will go down and to go away. At some point the doctor was called who followed the guidance of my mother and claimed there was nothing wrong with me. It was only at the point of my face starting to resemble the Elephant Man that my neighbours stepped in and told my mother I needed to go to hospital. By this time I was faint and struggling to move, my neighbour took me to Trafford General {Park} hospital (not my mother), and sat with me in A&E until I was seen.
Severe sinusitis was the diagnoses. Explaining that it was on the cusp of turning to Meningitis, the doctor had me sent straight to the children’s ward, (past the white rabbit), which was my home for the next two weeks whilst they inserted a drip into my nasal cavity to drain the infection and a drip into my arm for draining blood and pumping in meds. I could go on to talk about the lack of familial visitors during this time, however, I imagine I no longer need to. Neither health care nor mental health care got better from there, given that the next few years consisted of me being told to “go out for a pint with mates” by a counsellor at my first attempt to gain psychological help and the shattering of my wrist bone being diagnosed as a sprain by the hospital who refused to x-ray it. Later cries for help resulted in various attempts on my life with one resulting in me being unconscious for nearly a week whilst they attempt to explore why I was, having hid any evidence, I didn’t want to survive. I was given four counselling sessions with MIND Manchester and then kicked back to the kerb to “crack on with it”.
I am fully aware I am far from the ideal patient. My experiences have resulted in me not wanting to visit the doctors unless it is life threatening or greatly impacting my day to day activities. That being said, when I do present to the doctors, it is too much to ask to be treated by a nice person who is going to listen to me and understand I do struggle, rather than behaving like Dr Gregory House and treating me like a piece of crap. At least he helped people with their ailments while insulting them. I have talked about my poor treatment in the past however the advanced failings experienced during the pandemic bring it to an all time low.
So what is my issue? I will be posting a few more posts regarding my medical treatment so I won’t go on too much here however I write this following a visit to a Rheumatoid clinic at Salford Royal Infirmary. As explained in past posts, I struggle with anxieties both in person and over the phone however, where face to face anxiety is sporadic and can be managed with promazine, telephone anxiety can debilitate me for up to three days if I am not fully prepared for the call in advance. The shift from face to face treatments to telephone based saw me quickly dropped from services and kicked to the kerb with no visible sign of return. I was dropped by the diabetic team due to confusions between letters stating I had telephone consultations but they had me booked in for face to face, I was put on the backburner for face to face primary mental health care at the beginning of lockdown for which I am only just starting to get help for and any form of face to face medical care has not been possible at my doctors surgery however that will be in another post also. One complication I have struggled with for a few years now with the worst of it being over the past year is chronic pain around various limbs and frequent numbness in my arms and hands.
The Mrs convinced me to apply for physio to help me with this and I was successful in gaining face to face appointments for which I am grateful. The physio I have been seeing has been brilliant in helping me to strengthen un some muscles and explaining all possibilities. Believing I would benefit from an assessment by the Rheumatoid clinic, I was referred and seen in the Salford Royal Hospital base clinic. I entered the room and attempted to explain that I struggle with anxieties and I will babble a bit, (I talk at a fast pace and my words often either get mixed up or vanish completely as my mouth tries to keep up with my head. I was told to strip and carried out a handful of stretches. I got re-dressed and sat back in the room only to be told the only thing wrong with me is that I am overweight and I don’t exercise so the pain is me using the muscles for the first time!!!!!!!! what the actual!!!!!!!!! Her diagnoses is I am fat and don’t exercise.
At no point did we discuss daily activities, exercise, home dynamics or anything related to how active I am, nor did we discuss why I have gained weight, what I do to control my weight or why I was discharged by the diabetic clinic. We never discussed my frequent numbness, what type of pains I have or even the fact that I have a very high pain threshold and the ability to switch pain off, so if I am feeling pain, there is an issue. In fact we didn’t discuss much of anything, she had already made her mind up that I was fat and lazy.
A few weeks have passed since this appointment and me starting to write this post, (I was writing this sitting outside Bury Costa, trying to distract myself from the events of that appointment, and the fact I am sitting outside in the freezing cold drinking coffee and waiting for the Missus to fulfil her yearning of shopping once again). I have had time to reflect upon the appointment and to be honest it still stings. Luckily the Physio was also unhappy with this and has not given up on me so hopefully I will see more from that. I am already extremely conscious and distressed when it comes to my weight, so to be told that, I came home and I was ready to throw all my tablets down the drain and bring the real me back. I am not to proud to say, I sat in the car and I cried. I have attached the outcome letter from this professional as an example of how some professionals treat their patients. (BTW, I’m not on insulin, I’m borderline diabetic)
I will be writing more about my medical experience after my exams this week
Take care of yourselves.
Stevie