Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers

Good news and Bad news

The good news: I didn't break a rib.

The bad news: I broke a rib off.

And I have bronchitis, nearing walking pneumonia (I have fluid building in my lungs, but not enough yet to warrant a pneumonia diagnosis.

And my colon is so swollen with gas and such that it is pushing my left lung upwards and crushing it. That would be a side-effect of the Seroquel that I thought I was managing, I guess not. I am now living on a diet of Metamucil Capsules and copious amounts of water.

I am a Very Sick Person. I can't have cough suppressant because, even though it makes me scream, I must</> cough up everything that I can. I got an injection of something called. "Z Pack", an antibiotic combination made to knock out the bronchitis in a few days with follow up tablets.

I can't have narcotics because they will exacerbate the colon issue, and Urgent Cares can no longer prescribe narcotics. If I still had a soul, I would totally trade it for some Vicodin.

I have to go to an Orthopedist post haste to get this fixed. And I was talking to Kelli, who was looking at the xray through the miracle of Facebook, and she wondered, how would they fix that, they would have to go in and set it, maybe with a pin? GO IN?!?! Wait, what? Open me the fuck up? No no no no no no no no. We have no money. I can't have surgery. I can't even pay the lab fees for a bone density test, which they will do on a 45 year old woman who can sneeze and break a rib off its mooring.

Doc and I are not speaking. Because I would not speak my mind with the doctor in the room. I'm intimidated. He said he was going to make me tell the doctor I was unhappy and I burst into tears, with little screams between sobs. So he went out and voiced my concerns to the doctor. Then he stopped speaking to me. All the way home in the big-ass truck, he yelled at me. Like he's been doing all week. Taking especial pleasure in repeating that I am literally full of shit.

Kelli says his behaviour the past couple of weeks is really out of character for him. I agree. He's blaming me for everything. He is mismanaging his time and not getting anything done and using me as his scapegoat. Once in a while, sure, he gets burnt out. But this is becoming a pattern of borderline psychological abuse.

I tweeted this sometime in the last 18 hours: He's washing his hands of me, it's just slow going because I am the motor oil in his callouses. (BTW - I consider this among my top ten cleverest tweets and it was roundly ignored, it's a wonderful and deep play on words that makes you stop and think a minute and puts a picture in your head - WTF is wrong with people?) Doc saw it and was not amused. He got all nasty about it and said I did twitter wrong in it because there were no links or hashtags or meaning, it was just some stupid thought I had. He knows nothing about twitter except what I read him, which are usually nothing but people's stupid thoughts. He was just mad. I think I hit too close to home with that one. I just want to know what is going on with him. He needs to talk to someone. A professional. I think the Medicaid/SNAP denial was the last straw. The last avenue I had of bringing a bit more income (for food, SNAP) into the house. And he's just given up on me and doesn't know what to do next.

Just as I fear being labeled Treatment Resistant, he seems to be pushing me towards it. Knowing that I can't stay here and be on a TRS regimen. I need to be long term inpatient in a facility with a lab or near a lab. He has threatened to talk to my doctor. I'm terrified he will tell my doctor about this place, and then I will be right fucked.

And anyway, there is this curved spear floating around the right side of my chest. I can't sleep on my stomach anymore because it might pierce the lung. I can't sleep on my back, because that is where the swollen and torn tissue is that held it in place. Can't sleep on my left side because I lay with my arm on the loose rib, can't sleep on my right side, because that is the side of the floating rib. Tonight is going to be very interesting. And Doc is home for the next two nights. This is going to be a nightmare.

Now I have to go search hard drives and thumb drives for the login to his HR site so I can find a bloody Orthopedist to try and get an emergency appointment for whenever it is convenient for Doc. This time, I just know he's going to make me walk/take the bus.

That's all I have to say. Oh, I'm terrified of the immediate future. In case that needed saying.

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