My Current Doctor is a Drug Fiend, For Sure

  

My feet feel like they have no padding and I am walking on sharp rocks. At times the pain radiates all the way up to my back. It's a little scary. I'm nearly positive it's a Hashimoto's symptom or is somehow related to the fact my thyroid issues have gone untreated for the past ten years. Time to jump back into the experiment, but I know I don't want to go back to the nurse who knew nothing and looked at me like a deer caught in headlights.

I went searching yet again for a new doctor, one that might know something or at least one that might know a little more than I do and who is fragrance-free. This doctor has huge boldfaced notices on the front page of her website demanding everyone is fragrance-free. I had hope. Minimum requirement is they must know fragrances are poison.

Unfortunately, this one is crazy. She's moody and flies back and forth between between rage and stupor with occasional little girl regressions. The first appointment she began reading aloud my list of symptoms from my intake form and she kept exclaiming dramatically, "OOOOOHHH!" "OH MY!" "OH NO!" It was a bit unnerving and stressful until I realized she was not being serious nor sarcastic, just insane, then it was almost comical.

At the end of her reading she looked at me with wide eyes, excitement bursting from every pore, and pondered aloud, "What could this possibly be?" Looking at the second page she exclaims as if she's just discovered the cure for cancer, "Well, there it is! Hashimoto's!" She looks at me with surprise and delight like I just handed her the keys to her brand new, free Mazerati. I looked back at her with disbelief. If I ever get cancer I don't want her to be the one to tell me.

She talked a mile a minute but it was like self-babble. She didn't ask me questions but continued to rely on the intake form. Several times she made assumptions so I'd correct her, she'd glare at me, dramatically shuffle through the pages and asked, "Where is that? I don't see that information. It's not on here." If I didn't write it down, it didn't exist.

Heaven help the person who interrupts her or tries to ask a question. Every time I would try to talk she would stop, turn her head to glare at me, listen to my question, smile like she's forcing it, and say, "You are jumping ahead." I failed to realize she has a secret plan, a method of madness that involves step by step procedures. After she said that a second time I said, "Well, the appointment is only so long and I guess I'm afraid we'll run out of time before we get anywhere." She looked at me, smiled sweetly like she's being filmed, and said, "Then you can schedule and pay for another appointment." Whoa!

When she asked me if I take probiotics and I began to explain. She interrupted me and without looking up or at me screamed, "DO YOU TAKE PROBIOTICS, YES OR NO?" I think she was confusing me with a step-child.

The second appointment was for the lab results. I was NOT looking forward to this but I was hoping she'd have some answers. Any answers. Maybe I was thinking she might know something because she has a life-sized cardboard cutout of herself displayed in the office? Why would that give me hope? It certainly didn't give me courage. She seemed a little less high strung and almost catatonic on this visit, but she didn't disappoint with the animated dramatics.

When I told her for the fifth time I don't tolerate drugs well which was the purpose for one whole set of tests, she used her little girl voice to tell me I needed to have a test done to see if I have some kind of blockage in my throat that prevents me from swallowing effectively. Who said anything about swallowing? Does she not read the intake forms she requires we fill out with every appointment? She's not listening to me. She has no idea who I am or why I'm there, but she's still talking to me like I'm a kindergartener.

She wrote me a thyroid prescription anyway. She writes a new and different prescription at every appointment!

When I told her for the sixth time I don't tolerate drugs well and went into great detail about the side effects I get that could or could not be associated with the additives and fillers in the pill she said in an incredibly condescending tone, "Well, you are going to need to learn to read labels. I realize it will be really, really difficult with that tiny print so you'll need to wear your glasses and read the label very, very slowly. Maybe you can find someone to help you." Does she think I'm five years old or ninety years old? Who doesn't read labels?

When I asked her about the two thyroid antibody tests she ordered as I was wondering what the difference was between them, she looked at me with impatience, reached over and wrote on MY note paper in big, bold letters H-A-S-H-I-M-O-T-O-S and added, "It's a thyroid disease that was discovered by a Japanese physician." Excuse me?????? Did she not read on my intake form I've had Hashimoto's for the last fifteen years? Or maybe she thinks I don't know how to spell? I know these tests are for Hashimoto's. I tried to clarify I needed more information and she just smiled at me like her brain was not programmed for that question.

And her most memorable response was when I asked her about my issues with the previous thyroid drug and all its horrible side-effects, I wanted to know if it could have anything to do with an inability to convert T4 to T3. She looked at me with a really scary smile and said, "OH! That's a very complex theory." That was it.

So far I have spent about $300 in office visits and $400 in lab costs and she hasn't answered any of my questions nor addressed any of my symptoms. My feet still hurt and now I find out my kidneys are damaged and my butt is bleeding.

I think she's dipping into the drug sample drawer...

I admit when she makes these stupid comments I tend to mimic her body language: widen my eyes, nod at her, and raise my eyebrows with dramatic effect like I'm amazed and surprised. It's all I can do not to burst out laughing and a few times I have. I wonder if she knows I'm being sarcastic?

I need to keep searching for a new doctor. I'm not sure which is worse: stupid or crazy, but I'm so tired of the incompetence. These are people who are AMA board-approved to give health advice. It's scary. There should be a law against this....

My New House Will NOT Have Stairs!

It's that time of year when negotiating stairs becomes a challenge for me. WHY? I don't have a clue! In fact, it was exactly a year ago when I misjudged my porch stairs and was unable to walk for months due to a sprained ankle, chipped bones, and torn ligaments.

Last night, in the middle of the night I begrudgingly got out of my nice, warm bed to check on the latest batch of bone broth. Half asleep I didn't even put on my slippers nor did I turn on the lights. I made it to the bottom of the stairs and didn't realize there was one more step to go, missed it, and crashed to the floor.

I was lucky this time...I grabbed the handrail tighter and broke the fall by slamming my shoulder and head into the archway. Ouch! My head still has a large, painful bump and my shoulder is bruised and raw. I did something to my toe which creates a whole lot of pain when I walk. Sprained, broken or just bruised? I have no idea, but I'm thankful it's not as bad as last year's injury. I can move it, but it hurts. I'm hobbling around again just when gardening is starting and not happy about that.  Here is a photo of my mangled, black and blue toe (same foot as last year):

The new house I will someday own will NOT have stairs. Not even one. I think I'll build ramps. I'm done with stairs.

Yatna the Jogger

I haven't been able to jog for years since the designs of most running shoes (or any shoe) cut into the nerves on the top of my feet crippling me with pain. Heck, for too many years simple walking was limited and long distance walking was out of the question. For the last ten years I have been using a pair of high quality, incredibly stiff-soled, heavy leather Italian hiking boots for walking. They worked although lugging around a pound of extra weight on each foot did not make me fleet of foot. It was definitely a workout. Unfortunately, those trusty hiking boots are wearing out. Best shoes I've ever owned.

 

New Balance FINALLY redesigned their running shoes and removed the seams on the toe tops! Hooray! It took me about a month to get used to them since my feet were not accustomed to bending while walking after years of stiff-soled shoes. Now when I go for a walk I feel like I'm flying!

 

What about jogging? If I'm speed-walking to the point of flying, maybe I can jog? I started jogging in high school before it was fashionable. Through college and career I jogged for stress relief. It's been a LONG time and my memories of pulled muscles, over-worked tendons, and blown knees did not give me confidence. Can I jog? Really?

This is where I summoned the spirit of the courageous Yatna, my brave menopausal alter ego who knows no bounds and has no fear.

YES! YOU CAN DO IT!

So this morning I decided to start slowly. I stretched for an extraordinary long time and then I jogged for about 10-20 feet every other block alternating with more stretching. My muscles would start screaming as I neared 20 feet. I worried about the obvious jarring of my joints running on hard concrete and I watched carefully where I was going so I wouldn't twist or sprain my ankle. I don't want to do that again. The memories are still painfully fresh. Everything went fine. I kept reassuring myself if those weight-loss contestants on The Biggest Loser can jog and be safe, so can I!

 

Hooray! This feels like I have a piece of my old life back!

 

Wish me luck!

When is the next marathon???

Note to anyone who thinks this is a good idea: One episode of gentle jogging and I ended up with incredibly painful plantar fasciitis for about six months. I had to do all kinds of stretching of the calves and leg muscles and it finally went away. Jogging triggered some kind of massive inflammation I was not prepared for, however, I have since read tart cherry juice is a wonderful anti-inflammatory and often prevents plantar fasciitis if one has limited leg/foot movement, for instance, confined in a cast or boot.