[me] Today I brought a letter from my friendly new doctor back into the Dockinnabocks clinic to prove that I should be authorized for my new job, as my hypertension, while not yet under control, is being treated. Today the Dockinnabocks lobby was aurally dominated by the television, alternating between cooking demonstrations, selling spices, and Dr. Oz spots, all at top volume and impossible to tune out.
I was motivated to tune out the television, because I was again on trial to lower my blood pressure. Bringing in my letter was not sufficient; the doctor here wanted to measure my blood pressure for herself to prove that it was under control. I waited for the other patients ahead of me to be seen and sat meditating on prayers and regulating my breathing, trying to lower my blood pressure and feeling very unsuccessful. The time was approximately 11 AM.
About 11:15 I was called back into Examination Room # 1, where the MA inquired if I was here for a DOT examination. I summarized how I had failed the physical examination for work, and that I was under a doctor's care for hypertension, and that this MD wished to check my blood pressure. The MA checked my blood pressure, which I could immediately feel rise due to the anxiety of having it checked. "I can't hear it. I have to have someone else try."
This MA left the room.
In about five or ten minutes, another MA entered the room, looked at my chart, and asked if I was here for a DOT examination, and, keeping my voice nice and calm, I quietly gave her the same explanation of why I was there. She took my blood pressure, which I could feel rise, due to the anxiety of having it taken. She looked at me. "It's 150/104." My heart sank. In the Friendly office an hour before it had been 150/86--not stellar, but not outrageous. Here we go. I was informed that the doctor would wish to come in to talk to me, and to wait right here.
By this time it was about 11:45 AM.
I remained on the examination table, legs dangling, as I felt that it would be counter-productive to sit in the chair and then leap back to the exam table as soon as the doctor came in. I had failed to have my case switched to a friendlier doctor, and was determined to stay calm and civil no matter what happened. I said prayers and regulated my breathing and stared at the poster on the wall, the only legible reading material, advocating shingles vaccination.
I slipped my shoes off and crossed my legs on the table, regulating my breathing.
I leaned back against the wall. I reflected on the irony of being able to raise my blood pressure at any time, but being unable to lower it by either breathing, or meditating, or thinking pleasant thoughts, or by imagining that I could lower it. I dangled my legs again. I wondered what would happen if I decided to just lay down with my head on the pillow. I crossed my legs. I scooched back so my back was supported.
It was 12:00 noon. I began to listen to the conversations out in the hall. "Where is the person in Room 2?" "Isn't she there?" "No, she's gone." "Is she really gone?" "I think she left because of the long wait time." "Did she really leave?" "We need to be able to use the room for someone else." "She left because of the long wait time." "Can we call her?" "Make the room ready for the next person."
No mention of the person waiting in Room # 1.
At 12:15 the door opened. "What are you waiting for?" I explained that she [this very person] had instructed me to wait for the doctor. She backed out and there was a brief hallway conversation. Popped back in. "The doctor took care of that immediately, as soon as you came in. You can go."
I found my own way back to the lobby, picked up a photocopy of my original referral paper from work, and went out to my car to phone my work.
Free. And feeling as if I had just concluded my part in a Chekov play.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Divine Providence, Part I
I just experienced a divine intervention.
An intervention in psychological/behavioral circles occurs when a circle of family or friends intervenes in destructive/addictive behavior. A divine intervention occurs when circumstances &/or Divine Providence step in to create circumstances in which it is difficult or impossible to escape making a positive choice against one's will.
I'm making this up on the fly.
At the end of November, after 7 months of unemployment, I received a job offer, contingent upon passing a physical exam. This, I was assured, consisted of visiting a specific clinic and having a doctor ascertain that I could walk and talk. Piece of cake. I was still floating [from receiving a job offer at last] when I nonchalantly waltzed into the Dockinnabocks medical clinic waving my piece of paper and sat in the lobby to take my turn. I was fairly revved up, and there was rather loud Christmas music of the least therapeutic genre playing on the radio, which I always find intensely annoying, but I was not concerned. I had visited this specific clinic many times in the past and been satisfied with my care.
I failed the physical.
For one thing, I failed to establish a rapport with the MA who briskly shuffled me through the weight, eye exam, and urine dip--I had demanded a "hat" for this, tired of trying to hit the mark using these UA cups provided--and vital signs. She really became offended when she took my blood pressure, which was somewhat high. I did not make any particular response to this, and perhaps I was supposed to express concern or shock. Frankly, I have come to regard my blood pressure as mine, my own property, and not anyone else's business to criticize.
After being left to stew for awhile, the doctor came in and rechecked my BP and by this time it was really high. About ten or twenty years ago I discovered that many times when my BP is checked, my anxiety about it causes an alteration in the phenomenon being measured, and it inevitably rises. No doubt if I were properly healthy, this would not be a problem, but my paying attention to having my BP taken always raises my anxiety. I kept thinking about how high my BP was last year, and sorrowfully contemplating about the lack of interest this doctor would show if she saw me shivering under a bridge somewhere having failed to land a job.
Well, the doctor was more brisk and efficient and unfriendly than the MA had been. I was caused to undergo a series of tests which felt as if I was offering to enroll in the military, culminating in what could have passed for a sobriety test. I'm neither adept nor graceful nor athletic nor kinesthetic, so the result was a certain level of humiliation.
The doctor informed me angrily that she was not authorizing me to go to work until my blood pressure was under control. I engaged in the always-losing slippery slope argument that I would be staring homelessness in the face without a job, listed the multiple stressors I experienced while I have been unemployed, and stated that I would rather be dead than homeless. She asked if that was a threat, and I said no, then we were in the hallway and I was left standing, invisible, not shown to the exit, but abandoned without instructions.
This was, by the way, also a wonderful lesson in customer service from the standpoint of a health care consumer. As in, how it feels to receive bad customer service. So I stood in the hallway where I was dropped, overhearing the MD phone my human resources contact, until I was instructed by someone to wait in the lobby, where I waited until the MD saw me and instructed me to leave.
I'm not happy with my behavior in the clinic; however, it was largely the culmination of a long and difficult summer coupled with what I perceived as very unfriendly manners on the part of the staff.
Immediately the next morning I visited the FriendlyClinic, which has facilites on-site for visiting either a walk-in side, or offices for appointments with doctors. I explained the problem, took the medication I was prescribed, and began checking my blood pressure once or twice a day and taking care with what I ate. Immediately I began to feel better. Hypertension really does have symptoms and can be sensed. I made an appointment with a permanent doctor and came in for another walk-in visit in between to make sure my medication was on track.
I realized, by exercising logic, that death was now off the table. This was my divine intervention. If I was meant to die, the situation virtually forcing me to comply with medical treatment could easily not have happened. So I instructed myself to stop dwelling on death all the time.
I also received assistance from family to enable me to make multiple visits to the doctors, and purchase my medication, paying cash, as the COBRA for my old insurance had not been affordable. For two weeks I have been white-knuckling it about whether or not this employer would care to wait while I took care of this medical issue and could be authorized to work. I have also been seeing aspects of my personality with which I am increasingly disenchanted--a wonderful opportunity to change.
Today I reported to my actual MD for the first time. Astoundingly young, yet knowledgeable, insightful and respectful, he graciously wrote a letter I could present to the Dockinnabocks, which still held my fate in its hands. His letter stated that I am now under medical care and being treated for hypertension which, although not yet within normal limits, is expected to arrive there soon.
I had hope.
An intervention in psychological/behavioral circles occurs when a circle of family or friends intervenes in destructive/addictive behavior. A divine intervention occurs when circumstances &/or Divine Providence step in to create circumstances in which it is difficult or impossible to escape making a positive choice against one's will.
I'm making this up on the fly.
At the end of November, after 7 months of unemployment, I received a job offer, contingent upon passing a physical exam. This, I was assured, consisted of visiting a specific clinic and having a doctor ascertain that I could walk and talk. Piece of cake. I was still floating [from receiving a job offer at last] when I nonchalantly waltzed into the Dockinnabocks medical clinic waving my piece of paper and sat in the lobby to take my turn. I was fairly revved up, and there was rather loud Christmas music of the least therapeutic genre playing on the radio, which I always find intensely annoying, but I was not concerned. I had visited this specific clinic many times in the past and been satisfied with my care.
I failed the physical.
For one thing, I failed to establish a rapport with the MA who briskly shuffled me through the weight, eye exam, and urine dip--I had demanded a "hat" for this, tired of trying to hit the mark using these UA cups provided--and vital signs. She really became offended when she took my blood pressure, which was somewhat high. I did not make any particular response to this, and perhaps I was supposed to express concern or shock. Frankly, I have come to regard my blood pressure as mine, my own property, and not anyone else's business to criticize.
After being left to stew for awhile, the doctor came in and rechecked my BP and by this time it was really high. About ten or twenty years ago I discovered that many times when my BP is checked, my anxiety about it causes an alteration in the phenomenon being measured, and it inevitably rises. No doubt if I were properly healthy, this would not be a problem, but my paying attention to having my BP taken always raises my anxiety. I kept thinking about how high my BP was last year, and sorrowfully contemplating about the lack of interest this doctor would show if she saw me shivering under a bridge somewhere having failed to land a job.
Well, the doctor was more brisk and efficient and unfriendly than the MA had been. I was caused to undergo a series of tests which felt as if I was offering to enroll in the military, culminating in what could have passed for a sobriety test. I'm neither adept nor graceful nor athletic nor kinesthetic, so the result was a certain level of humiliation.
The doctor informed me angrily that she was not authorizing me to go to work until my blood pressure was under control. I engaged in the always-losing slippery slope argument that I would be staring homelessness in the face without a job, listed the multiple stressors I experienced while I have been unemployed, and stated that I would rather be dead than homeless. She asked if that was a threat, and I said no, then we were in the hallway and I was left standing, invisible, not shown to the exit, but abandoned without instructions.
This was, by the way, also a wonderful lesson in customer service from the standpoint of a health care consumer. As in, how it feels to receive bad customer service. So I stood in the hallway where I was dropped, overhearing the MD phone my human resources contact, until I was instructed by someone to wait in the lobby, where I waited until the MD saw me and instructed me to leave.
I'm not happy with my behavior in the clinic; however, it was largely the culmination of a long and difficult summer coupled with what I perceived as very unfriendly manners on the part of the staff.
Immediately the next morning I visited the FriendlyClinic, which has facilites on-site for visiting either a walk-in side, or offices for appointments with doctors. I explained the problem, took the medication I was prescribed, and began checking my blood pressure once or twice a day and taking care with what I ate. Immediately I began to feel better. Hypertension really does have symptoms and can be sensed. I made an appointment with a permanent doctor and came in for another walk-in visit in between to make sure my medication was on track.
I realized, by exercising logic, that death was now off the table. This was my divine intervention. If I was meant to die, the situation virtually forcing me to comply with medical treatment could easily not have happened. So I instructed myself to stop dwelling on death all the time.
I also received assistance from family to enable me to make multiple visits to the doctors, and purchase my medication, paying cash, as the COBRA for my old insurance had not been affordable. For two weeks I have been white-knuckling it about whether or not this employer would care to wait while I took care of this medical issue and could be authorized to work. I have also been seeing aspects of my personality with which I am increasingly disenchanted--a wonderful opportunity to change.
Today I reported to my actual MD for the first time. Astoundingly young, yet knowledgeable, insightful and respectful, he graciously wrote a letter I could present to the Dockinnabocks, which still held my fate in its hands. His letter stated that I am now under medical care and being treated for hypertension which, although not yet within normal limits, is expected to arrive there soon.
I had hope.
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