The appointment with the dole had been a build-up to nothing; ‘coz that’s what had happened, nothing. The member of staff had a screw-up with the appointment, and, somehow seemed to include my advocate in the ensuing mess. Needless to say, the appointment’s been rescheduled. So that’ll be more fun, to come…
And, then there’d been my day at the Liverpool Royal. Well, I’d waited well over a year to see Prof. Probert, at The Liverpool Royal. And, by the time you finish this, you’ll have read for the duration of my appointment with him.
And the pity is; I now feel that the holistic approach to my treatment I’d sought will not materialize. I’ll clarify.
I had arrived at the dept. highly stressed and sore in my taut gut.
I’d had my weigh-in and learned that I’d lost a few pounds, not much but I had.
Having waited awhile Prof. Probert called my name: all tall, short tightly-curled blonde hair, fashionably styled short beard, almost stubble; and socks inappropriate for an office.
I’d followed him to his office and then sat as bid.
Reading through my notes, he’d not been impressed with my lack of weight, at all: and seemed derisory to me.
He had gone into great deal to explain the difference between diverticulosis and diverticulitis, seeming to take offence when I had made my observation about only missing one symptom, according to ‘the website.’
He had not discussed the report, when prompted; but did discuss the results.
He had not encouraged questions and deflected those I did ask: which is annoying, as I’d wanted to voice my concern about the pain my ribs cause, when digging into my lower intestine at certain times; or the pressure just under my sternum, often exacerbated by a rather large ball of wind, that I find difficult to ‘pass’.
As he had rattled through my complaints he’d mentioned ‘emphysema being worse.’ which had been a surprise as I’d thought I had copd. Either way, he’s right, my chest is worse; but so is my spine and guts. And, I currently have a chest infection, which does not help that ‘constant pressure’ on my chest.
And Now, when I look at food I feel adverse to it; associating easting it with pain to follow...
Anyway, he hadn’t seemed pleased, when I had said, “I know.”
After talking of the results he had said, “You’ll get an appointment with a nutritionist and we’ll monitor the pancreas.”
It’s only since then I have learned that there can a correlation between a cyst on the pancreas and emphysema. At the same time I learned how it could also affect upper backache. Neither of which I learned from Prof. Probert.
I had asked for a copy of the report, to get the dole of my back. He’d countered by saying, “I’ll write you a letter.”
Anyway, when he’d mentioned a nutrionist, I’d shown interest, saying, “I know a little and have been trying to …”
He had interjected saying, “Do I take it you don’t need to see one then?
Needless to say, I’d gone quiet and said, “No.”
I did talk of the Ppi pills I had tried, the lamaprozole, etc… and, how at one point I’d wished to be dead, the side-effects had been so dramatic, for me…
A short while later I’d mentioned that I had been a care assistant and, my two fears were having a bag and, more pills to make me feel worse.
He had said glibly I thought, “Ah, so you don’t want a stoma,” then sat back down, to work at his desk. I had felt no empathy from the fellow at that point whatsoever.
When he’d mentioned the new pill to ease my gut, he’d mentioned its side effect, diarrhea twice a day I’d felt pressured, in lieu of what I’d said earlier and had said, “I’d like to speak to my doctor.”
At this point he’d talked of my next appointment being in four months time.
That’d got me thinking quickly and, I’d retorted, “And, if I decide I want them?”
“Then get your doctor to contact me… [PAUSE] … or, my secretary.”
That’s when he’d stood; to illustrate my appointment was over.
I did get a prescription to take to the pharmacy for some peppermint pills, to ease the bloating: and, they do seem to help, a little.
Then before we finished and I was being walked to the door, I’d passed a report to him I’d written of me, on a bad day.
It’s adding nothing new, when I add at this point; he’d seemed disinterested.
But, he had taken it…
At the door he’d been all-smiles with his, “I’ll see you in four months.”
Oh I ‘really’ look forward to that…
Anyway, Life being Life… I’ve gotten worse since then and, I’m trying a liquid diet.
And, this ramble was to aid in understanding my complaint, but also to vent out my frustration, as I might’ve once a month, to my Doctor’s willing ear.
And, speaking of frustration; a chest infection; and the damn ball of wind precluding even a drink, at times… now, besides the initial lack of information, from someone all of this now matches it… well nearly, I do so wish this wasn’t all being so hard on Dad. He’s trying to help me; thinking eating solid food is all it will take; and that’s after cleaning up after me and, trying to adapt. He is doing ever-so well, by me.
COMMENTS
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Mcphooey
12:52 Mar 03 2016
On the one hand it's good to have something to look forward to....maybe you should change to looking forward to talking to someone who is at least halfway to being a decent human being. Hope you feel better soon.