Slash Rant

Doctor Thinks Little and Does Less

Posted on by kmarrs

I have a hard decision I have to face.  What would be cut and dry with any other doctor is complicated by the fact that my current doctor works for the same company as my mom and that company has a really great reputation.  However, he is riding on their shirt tails.  I’ve seen the best of their best, my children’s pediatrician for starters, and it looks like I’m seeing the sub par now.

It started great.  He spoke English natively.  I’m not going to lie, that is huge.  He recognized my husband’s health wasn’t fully caused by his weight, but in fact his weight was a byproduct of his health.  That is amazing.  Unique, and amazing.  He himself is no tiny dancer so he gets it isn’t always easy.

I/we have spent 9 years trying to find a general practice doctor that we were willing to return to time and time again.  We/I really thought he was the one.

This whole beta blocker thing has be questioning that, though.  And it’s dragging up things from a year ago.

I was given every possible reason that I gained so much weight so fast but he refused to even entertain the idea it was the med he put me on right before my weight began to rise.  He blamed my already born baby, but it couldn’t be the beta blocker.  It was my diet, that had improved drastically.  He was so fast to draw my labs because surely they explained my weight gain.

Yeah.

I got my labs today.  They are perfect.  Phenomenal.  Obscenely beautiful.  People are going “Hot damn how the hell does a fat girl have labs like that?!?!”  Be jealous, bitches, my blood work is beautiful.  And strangely, does not hold the secrets to sudden 10 pound weight gain.  In fact, they might even explain sudden 10 pound weight loss, if that were the case.  Jealous yet?

And my lovely friend Luna, in all of 5 minutes with her amazing access to uncharted documents was able to pull up and send me 4 amazing scientific research studies, some dating back to 1990, all agreeing without a shadow of a doubt that oh hey, beta blockers cause weight gain.

Her words summarizing the studies:

“According to the 1990 study in the British Medical Journal, patients on propranolol gained an average of 2 to 3 pounds compared to control patients. This figure of 2 to 3 pounds is the 95% confidence interval. These researchers are 95% certain that weight gain of this magnitude did occur, due to the effects of propranolol.

The more recent 2005 study in the Journal of Headache Pain found that while fewer patients on propranolol gained weight than on some other beta blockers, the weight gain seen was of a greater magnitude when it occurred, up to 13 pounds in their sample.”

So was I left wondering what did I want to do with this knowledge?  Is my immature need to have the last word and be proven right going to drive me to losing a “great doctor”.
…

My views of last summer are changing.  Where I was obscenely pregnant.  In the most pain I had ever been in.  And faced with the decision of trying to work through that pain or admit I couldn’t, and go one leave without any sort of pay since Sciatica isn’t means for short term disability.

I get that last part.  I really do.  But with my well and carefully established for his records history of BPD, depression, and hospital admittance due to suicidal idealization, desire, and intents…  It wasn’t just my life in danger last June, it was the life of my Sammy as well.  I flat out said things were turning south.  I had a clear short term disability out due to my depression I was in.  I didn’t have gun/knife/razor/pills in hand but it was clear where things were headed.  No?

I mean my psychiatrists within 30 seconds of talking to me, over the phone not even in person, was ready to do what she had to do to get me on medical leave.  And the doctor who I sat in front of wasn’t willing to consider signing the paper in hand.

Ok, I had a psychiatrist.  My life, Sammy’s life wasn’t in his hands.  Thank God, because he expressed doubt my meds doctor would even be willing to sign the papers.

Seems he is not an overly well informed doctor.

…

And flat out?  I’m stable right now.  We are cutting back on my therapy and meds appointment visits because I’m stable. I refer to it as remission.

But not unlike remission for cancer, there are no guarantees this is gone for good.  I may spend years stable.  I may spend the rest of my life stable.  Or things may go to hell in a hand basket in a few years and I won’t be able to get in as quickly as needed with my psyche team and my life may very well be in his hands.

Am I’m no longer convinced those are capable hands.

I mean, if he can’t even admit that maybe, just maybe, a medication known for causing weight gain could have caused me to gain 10-20 pounds (the exact number is up for debate) in 2 months, or sign a stupid paper saying I’m currently a danger to myself and unborn child, then how can he face the bigger task of damage control, I’m on the path to taking my own life and I don’t have a psychiatrist on ready back-up?

After all, I was on that path last summer and he did nothing.

Maybe not having my meds doc at my beck and call will make a difference.  But can I count on that?

Because sciatica was not life threatening to me or the baby.  Yes, sir, I understand that.  However, what it was doing to my mental health very much was.

One Thousand Percent

Posted on by kmarrs

Look, I know you have to take what you read on the internet with a grain of salt.  I also know, after years of taking various meds and years of internet journeys, when to start putting belief in what the internet says.  What sites.  How many testimonials at what percent all saying the same damn thing.  Plus, I have offline sources of info.  Like a nurses guide to medication.  And a pharmacy.

So I went in to the doctor’s appointment yesterday hoping to request a blood pressure med that would A) be more effective and B) wouldn’t cause me to gain 5-10 pounds a week.

I was instead greeted with the knowledge my blood pressure has risen 10 points and the doctoral insistence that it is “1000% impossible for a beta blocker like Propranolol to cause weight gain”.  Really?  1000%?  That seems a tad excessive even if it were accurate.  I mean, I myself usually choose to stop at 150% that way if and when I’m proven wrong, I’m only 150% moronic and not 1000%.  That’s a percentage of wrong that’s hard to recover from.

You just need to work on diet.
I’ve cut out pop and way the back on sweets.  I’m eating 10 times more veggies than I ever have, enough fruits for the nutrients but not so much to get fat off them and a lot more quality meats verses the crap I usually consume.

You did just had a baby 7 months ago, your body is evening out.
Pretty sure once the baby is out of the womb the body evens out by losing weight not gaining almost more than it did in the entire 9 months of pregnancy.

Some people are just predisposed to be heavy.
Did you seriously just go there?  I mean really?

Yes well this med has been around as long as I have and beta blockers don’t cause weight gain.
Alright then, let’s get me off it anyway, it isn’t helping my headaches and my blood pressure is rising.

Well you shouldn’t worry about the fact your blood pressure is up.
Yes but aren’t I on this med to lower my blood pressure to reduce headaches?

Well how many migraines are you having?
A few migraines a month and tension/stress headache after tension/stress headache.

Well, nothing is going to do anything about the tension headaches…
We. Put. Me. On. This. With. The. Mutual. Understanding. That. It’s. The Tension. Headaches. I. Need. To. Treat.  It even helped for 2 weeks straight of glorious headache free life immediately after I started it.

Yes, well nothing will help with those.
Actually, lying with a full can of pop under the base of my skull helps quite a bit for awhile.

I thought you gave up pop?
I did.  That’s why I’m using cans of pop as pillows instead of as a beverage…

Well nothing else will help tension headaches…
Yes so then we agree to get me off the med that isn’t helping my BP and is causing me to balloon up…

It is impossible for the beta blocker to be doing that…  It’s psyche meds that do that…
Yes, well I’m not ON any psyche meds and now let’s get me off this med.

Well, you can’t just stop it, you have to taper down.
Yes.  Actually, my psychiatrist was very careful to tell me the dangers of missing a dose of the med you put me on.

Well, while you are here do you need a refill of the Ibuprofen?
To treat the headaches you said can’t be treated?  I’m good…

Oh.

And then I got a tetanus shot and a blood draw to check my thyroid because clearly something is causing me to balloon up with all this water weight. If only we could figure out what that something is.  I mean, everyone else in the medical field will tell you beta blockers cause water weight.  But he is 1000% certain so he can’t possible be wrong.

“Coincidences” are an asshole.

And yet, still better than the doctor I walked out on mid exam a little over a year ago.

Thank You

Posted on by kmarrs

Thank you for not washing the towels yesterday despite our agreement, based on you living here rent and utility payment free (for nearing 5 years) and me doing laundry for 5 people. Because when the toilet overflowed at 1:30AM and I sprinted up a flight of stairs to find the only clean towels were your fancy ones…

…

Actually no. I then ran down 2 flights of stairs to the basement,  to pull dirty, but older towels back up to the first floor bathroom where the floor was already covered with toilet water. Because unlike you, I’ve LEARNED from my father.

Some *ahem* learn to grow up to be like their father.  I have learned to be the opposite.

Race

Posted on by kmarrs

If you are expecting a race of humans, and get a race of fish people, take issue with it.
If you were expecting George Washington to be played by a white man, and he is instead played by a black man, take issue with it.
If the little mermaid is being played by a one-eyed one-horned, flying purple people eater, take issue with it.
If Rose Parks is being played by a white woman, take issue with it.

By all means.

But if a “dark skinned girl” that you think might be white, though why is beyond me, is indeed being played by a dark skin girl, and you are surprised: You need to sit down and shut the fuck up because you are only making yourself look dumb.

And racist.

And?

Adding “Not to sound racist” in front of your protest, only makes you look more racist.

Not to sound confused but… how the fuck does the skin color of an actor/character affect the quality of the story anyway?  It’s just skin.

Unless of course, it’s a white guy playing Martin Luther King Jr.

Then and only then can you get any sort of pass on thinking the color of someone’s skin “ruined the movie”.

General rule of thumb: If they aren’t in a history book, there are no firm rules on what they look like.

And not to sound like a judgmental bitch but:

Yes, you are racist.

I Picked A Hell Of A Time

Posted on by kmarrs

For months I was only on the one med so that if/when postpartum hit I’d be ready.  For months I took my Cymbalta because I might get sad around the end of February.

February came and went, but the sads never showed their face.

Oh I had my moments but they were all life moments.  Easily enough explained and dealt with.  Not reasons to pop a pill.

So 2 weeks ago when it came time to refill my script for the pills that beat the sads that never showed, I asked if we could skip that part of the appointment.  We had talked along of me going off meds once I was in the clear.  Why wait?  I was/am doing tremendous.  So, I went off meds.

This week I have:
Started my menstrual cycle, which always makes for wholesome hormonal goodness.
Went off caffeine cold turkey.
Gone to put on a skirt that fit me at 9-months pregnant but apparently doesn’t fit me now.  This week anyways.

Oh hey, we may have found a house if everything goes as planned.  Though, of course, moving is fun.  Plus, 30 year mortgage is a bit of a weight.  Good, but still heavy.
Had to inform my Grandmother that her son will be homeless in 2 months.
Had my father assault my husband.
Been made to feel numerous times, by people I can trust, that I’m not good enough and/or I can’t do anything right.
Made the first car payment.
Realized exactly how fun the next year of car payments will be.
Destroyed my left ankle.  6 days and it’s still fucked.
Left Band Back Together.  Not because it’s what I’ve wanted to do but because it’s what I had to do.  Drama free aside from broken heart(s).
Found out that a good friend who is deeply cared about by the whole family has Crohn’s disease.  Which isn’t fatal, usually.  As long as you stick to a diet.
Had to search every random corner of my life for pads because my period started 4 days sooner than it should have which means I didn’t make it to the paycheck.
Realized that despite me being sterile now, I have 30ish more years of buying tampons and pads so that I can go through a process that is pointless.

So this week… This week it looks like, based on my mood, that maybe I shouldn’t have gone off my meds.  However I’m not sure how any of the above can be fixed by me taking a pill.  (Some of it could be fixed by someone else who shall remain nameless but apparently has had a known diagnosis of exactly what I figured for years now but doesn’t choose to see it as a problem…)  Fine.  Maybe it could help me cope?  But when you aren’t searching and aiming for my buttons/last nerve, I’m coping pretty well.  Even if that means crashing into bed at 7PM.  But then, sometimes that sleep can be very healing.  When following a day as a functioning working adult.

Hair Today, It’ll Be Gone Tomorrow

Posted on by kmarrs

It is no secret that hair and I don’t get along.  I can’t stand to have it brush against my face and/or neck.  I’d grow it out and wear it up/back, but ponytails. clips and headbands give me tension headaches and migraines.  So?  I cut it short.  Really short.  Actually, using the word “cut” is a lie that implies scissors are used.  Nope, it’s a razor.  On the #1 blade.  I’m left with peach fuzz.

Some people give me hell for it.  It’s not “professional”, “girly” or “attractive”.  As such I have always asked my employer before I give my head a fresh buzz, if they have a preference.  “Don’t go shorter than xxx” or whatever.  Especially in my current career where I really do have to be professional, I can respect their input.  And yet, I have never, current career included, had a boss reply with anything other than, “As long as it’s not purple, we don’t care.”  Hell, I was freshly buzzed when I was hired at my current job.  At this point my current length of bed-head capable is more of a shock than a fresh buzz.

Everyone else gets that it’s just hair, and I do have a logic for keeping it as short as I do.  I mean, do you want to deal with me during headache after headache caused by something that grows back with no effort?  You are welcome to explain your logic to those who have to live or work with me.

But, the unthinkable has happened.  It isn’t that I’m all “Oh must have long pretty hair” as much as I’m just bored with the buzz cut.

I want something soft and feminine, but as short as I need it.  I don’t want to have to fuck with product or effort to get it to do such-and-such.  I will consider running a brush through it though.  I know it will grow out faster, because it isn’t starting in at 1/4 of an inch long, but I don’t want to get annoyed with it every 2 weeks because “Dammit, it’s touching my ears again!  Get it off get it off!”  But I honestly don’t care on the exact style details, as long as it meets my needs.

What I really need and want is an adorably flammin’ gay hair stylist to sit me down, listen to me rant, and then give me a cut that will make me happy and then I can go back to him every 6 weeks for upkeep because “Get it off! Get it off!”

The money to pay for this would be nice too.

Which is the other thing.  I have trouble justifying spending money on a cut every 6 weeks when I can just as easily buzz it for free and be happy with it.  Bored with my buzz does not equal unhappy, mind you.

Oh and as for deciding who makes the cut to make the cut?  Any single mention AT ALL of “Are you sure you want it that short?  That’s really short…”  I’m grabbing their razor and doing it my damn self in front of them.  Yes, I’m sure.  I’m paying you to cut my hair, not talk me out of my established pattern.

It’s hair.  It grows back.

I swear, the first time I buzzed my head had less drama than this shit and this is all self induced.

I think I’m turning into a girl.  I’m mildly alarmed.