that’s the fucker’s name. take note. if you or anyone else in the southern ohio northern kentucky area are considering going to someone called Dr. Herr a GP around the mercy hospital complex? run the other fucking way even if you have to get someone to push you on a gurney to do it.
okay. i did go in spoiling for a rumble, but i was perfectly congenial to him at 1st.
okay. the ride service squeaked it. i got there at 157pm for a 2pm appt. so i was already nervous, my alarm senses jangling, but Reco the driver (massive almost ebony skinned manned with a short ‘natural’ a cheerful open face wearing what if i’m not mistaken was a gris gris bracelet. was wicked nice and we got on quite well (got him for the return trip as well which is unusual. guess they figured he already knew where i was, right?)
then i get there no pee test. coolies. not that i care. i’m not doing anything i can get in trouble for HOWEVER i do despise doing it. i get shy bladder in public restrooms. i’m such a homebody anymore LOL (my friends from 20 years ago would be SHOCKED. it used to be ‘oh shit, you’re HOME?!’ ‘well, i was passing through and wanted some toast’) but stopped over to see TJ and Jerry in the lab because they’re fun nice guys and we always manage to make each other laugh. they confirmed Herr was in today and ‘don’t worry. he’s nice’ ‘i don’t CARE from nice. i’m happy to deal with a jerk asshole or curmudgeon as long as they know what they’re doing being all of the above myself how could i discriminate. it’s people that are overly nice for no reason that i worry about’ they laughed of course it being all the funnier because they know i mean it. (i tell people all the time, i am not a bitch, i am THE bitch and you’d do well to remember that.)
so they called me back fairly quickly and then i saw the nurse got my blood pressure cuff thingy (don’t ask me. i pay no attention to it. i know mine runs weird, but they’ve determined it runs weird because my whole metabolism is fucking wonky. 1st couple times they were worried, then i showed them my trick of affecting my pulse at rest, either sending it galloping along or slowing it down to where they almost couldn’t FIND it and they determined i’m just not normal. probably something do with being witch and martial artist for most of my life) and the pressure cuff DIDN’T bite me for a change (usually the mechanical one will do the full pump up, give a little ‘pfwee’ of released air and then before letting go even 1/2 of it, it’ll turn around and do another full pump! i usually spend the next hour or so with a purple arm unable to bend my fingers.) the nurse was nice (they ALL are. i remind them all every month that i adore them all and when it’s cooler i bake brownies for them! not in the summer though. meeeeeelting meeeeelting!) she went out and then i proceeded to wait.
i got in like 10 minutes after i got there so when NO ONE came in till almost 4? i was already getting pissed. an d as he got closer down the row of exams rooms…. i
okay. i have this ……. thing i can do. i’ve never met any other person who can do it. i’ve seen recording equipment in scifi films do it. i have such good hearing, i can pick out certain voices even if i’ve never heard them before and amplify them(obviously can’t make anyone ELSE hear them louder or isolate it for them LOL we’d be calling Guinness book were that the case! it’s always pissed me off when people talk about the 5 senses and call ESP the 6th. there’s SO much more than that. it’s not any cut and dry number. it’s all shades and values. empathy is different than telepathy for example, but there are multiple different KINDS of empathic ability. did you know some of us can PROJECT as well? i’s a completely different skill than just being able to read someone. and with projection? there’s different kinds of THAT. want someone to feel something you AREN’T feeling? good luck with that. you have to force yourself into the emotion 1st, but at the same time suppress it because you don’t want them to know where it came from…. or maybe you do? and then project it. people that get on my nerves too often go away feeling VERY tired and in need of a headache powder. i usually behave myself though. that’s usually reserved for people i like that are being unecessarily doofus-ish well, it’s a word NOW. i decree it so. for i am the empress of this blog 😉 ) it’s just process of elimination. easy stuff.i was in the 4th exam room on the left almost at the back of the front corridor, so i had 8 exam rooms and corridor strolls back to the desk to work out which voice was his. TJ was on lab today so the only other male voices were patients. BOTH of whom, i might add, i made a point of talking to when i came in. (mostly because i have this thing about trying to connect with almost everyone at the doc’s office. i make people smile, offer advice and cheer them up. i’ve heard the staff telling people that i know what i’m talking about to and they all seem to like me…..and if i should happen to be able to skim just a teeny bit of energy off everyone, i’ll have enough oomph to stay upright till i get home. someone who knew i was doing it said it feels like you’ve just had a quick jog around the block. you’re a little fatiqued for a few minutes and yes, i can give energy back to people too. if you ever have a headache around me, just tell me and i’ll ‘steal’ the energy,, ground it, then give it back and both of us will feel energized afterwards. its fun stuff.) if you ever hear anyone talk about tuning out background noise to try to concentrate on something? same basic deal. thing is i can do it in a building full of people or from a block away (much to people’s chagrin if they’ve been saying stupid shit. 1 night the people in the building down the hill from me were drunk and ranting at 3am and i finally got angry enough to get up, went to the other end of my flat, opened the bay window, leaned out and repeated the last 5 minutes of the conversation to them. ‘THAT is how loud you are. if you’re that stressed about it, swing by tomorrow and i’ll read your fucking tarot cards for you for nothing, but for now? it’s 3am, may i PLEASE get some fucking sleep now?!’) so it’s all part of that kind of thing. i’ve met others who could do the tuning out trick, but no one who has the range i do or the accuracy at repeating them. so it was pretty easy for me to determine which voice was him.
what WORRIED me rather quickly was that i wasn’t hearing anything from him about PAIN MANAGEMENT. i was hearing ‘have i met you before’ ‘when was your last examination with a GP?’ asking women when their last mammogram was and that sort of thing that while valid under the right circumstances? not here, motherfucker.not now. these people coming here are ALL of them sufferers of conditions that are chronic pain related ad many of us are what i call (affectionately) ‘drain circlers’ (we’re dying, but for whatever reason so far, we’ve managed to avoid getting sucked under.) we’re here because there are no other options but trying to learn to live with dying and while it’s going on, trying to learn to live with the horrific pain and try to have as much of a normal life for as long as possible.
so the more i’m hearing, the more and more angry i’m getting.
then i hear footsteps walk up to the door. fucker just opened the door and walked in. (it’s office policy to knock and wait 5 seconds. not sure what people would be up to in a doc’s office that would need a courtesy knock, but STILL) 1st impression? fucker’s got his very own cloud of miasmastic foulness floating around him. i’ve only rarely encountered ANYONE that foul. pus yellow and bloody mud for an aura. completely disgusting.
okay. now i’m giving you the warning NOW. if you are drinking something? swallow. if you are eating? ditto. if you are holding something that could hurt if you dropped or threw it? put it down.and if you’re standing? sit.
he walked right over to me, got right up in my personal space and stuck his hand like right in my face to shake!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WTF!? cardinal rule of dealing with people with chronic pain. i’ll gel it down to 1 sentence. HONK BEFORE HUGGING. NEVER touch 1 of us without asking. you could hurt us badly and in many cases YOU could end up getting hurt. (if you startle me for example? you’re very likely to get a flying lesson when i flip your presumptuous ass into the nearest wall.) i just gaped at him for a second. ‘you NEVER touch someone with a chronic pain condition! what are you thinking!?’ he blinked and backpedaled a few steps to lean on the sink counter. ‘i didn’t know that?’ there was frost coming out of my mouth when i answered ‘clearly.’ there was a tap on the door ‘entrez!” i called cheerfully and a nurse came in and mouthed ‘do you mind? i’d feel better if i were in here with you.’ i gave her a relieved smile and waved her over to the computer chair ‘please and be welcome.’ he turned and glared at her. oh HO! the plot sickens! the nursing staff doesn’t trust his ass! when TJ does the nurse thing, he’s allowed in the exam room with the door shut without an escort! when Doc Khan comes in? ditto. what’s this fucker’s deal?!
i think it’ll be easiest if i write the rest out like i were writing it as a story……..
Herr was obviously annoyed y the intrusion from the nurse and a muscle popped out along his jawline. gritting his teeth> interesting. we got a live one here. i looked over at the nurse and offered her a sly look. someone had obviously sent her in here to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid implying he’s prone to it. far be it from ME to pass up a cue. she gave me a blank look, but her yes sparkled. oh ho. yup. he sees this and glowers ‘so what’s supposed to be wrong with you?’
i gave him an incredulous look ‘did you even read my chart?’
‘i don’t have time for that. we’re running behind’ he sneered.
sarcastic tone dripping icicles ‘niiiiiice. it’s called RSD.’
he shrugged. ‘never heard of it. so. how old are you?’
i feel like i’m trying to catch a fart in a revolving door in a windstorm here talking to this intellectual midget. ’44.’
‘how long have you had this rsv?’ he smirked.
‘it’s RSD and since i seem to know more about it than you do, perhaps this conversation should end NOW.’ i offered him 1 chance you bow out gracefully.
of COURSE he didn’t take it. that’d be reasonable. ‘okay so how old are you?’
oh. my. fucking. Gods. this is a joke right? Alan Funt is going to step out from behind the door any moment now and tell me to smile for the hidden cameras, right? please? this guy simply cannot be this obtuse and stupid and roaming around claiming to be a doctor. ‘i just TOLD you. 44. shall i spell it?’
‘well at YOUR age, there’s certain procedures you should be you should be having regularly.” he steamrollowered on as if i hadn’t said anything. ‘who’s your GP?”
‘i do NOT have 1. after the last 1 almost killed me trying to force prescriptions on me that it clearly says in my chart i’m allergic to i had a talk with Khan and HE said because 1 never get sick and live smack between good sam hospital and UC hospital, it’s a non issue. if i ever get hurt, i run down to my friend who’s mom is a nurse and we facetime call her and if she deems it worthy, we’ll rush to the emergency room. i’m also EMT trained for the record. don’t let the green hair tattoos and piercings fool you. there’s a 163 IQ in here and i did the research. when i had my knee surgeries, 1 was so unusual my doc who was at University of Cinti which is a TEACHING hospital, he asked if i minded being a class project. i said sure as long as he gave me access to the same material the students were given. he teased his students several times over the course of the ‘project’ that they should be glad i wasn’t 1 of THEM because i’d be the only 1 getting an A on it. then when i found out about this crap? i took the same approach. my researched spanned the medical textbooks at UC and anything the cinti public library had as well as talking to my martial arts sensei who was an emergency room RN. don’t condescend. it’s insulting and i refuse to have a battle of wits with an obviously unarmed man.’
the nurse ducked her head and covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. uh huh. got his number now, i do.
‘do you have any kids?’ he asked suddenly.
i glared at him. ‘a daughter. she’ll be 15 in june and though it’s NONE of your damn business, i give you the cliffnotes version. when my family found out i was going to be crippled for life and was dying, 1st they tried to have me declared insane which i beat, then they tried to have me declared incompetent and when i beat that, they waited till i was having knee surgery and i do mean that literally. i had a message waiting on my answering machine when i got home that the court date had been changed at the last minute and the custody hearing happened while i was under the knife and isn’t that just NICE of them, so it has NOTHING to do with any of this, is none of your business and is now a subject no longer acceptable for discussion.’ i smirked.
he blinked ‘so why do you think you’re dying anyway?” he sneered.
oh yeah. this is going to be ‘fun’. ‘when RSD reaches a certain point it starts affecting voluntary muscle control. fun stuff. i’m hazardous to be around if my arms are being glitchy. i tend to throw things up in the air randomly. the pen might be mightier than the sword, but you need to look out for flying sharpened art pencils in my house.’ i shrugged. ‘then after a while of this, it starts going after INvoluntary muscle control. that can shut off heartbeat and lung inflation. EITHER of those is instantly fatal.’
‘what makes you think you’ve got that?’ i’m seriously sitting on my hands at this point to keep from hitting him.
‘it’s characterized by seizure-like events. everything from minour catatonic states where the limbs lock up and ‘freeze’ to what appear to be full on grand mal seizures where i fall over, shake froth and lose conciousness.’ i recited.
he scowled. i obviously knew what i was talking about and it was causing HIM pain that a cheeky goth punk brat was arguing circles around him. ‘well, what makes you think you’re having those?”
me, smirking. ‘witnesses.’
he sneered ‘can you produce them?’
‘you bet. go talk to the receptionist. 2 months ago. waiting room in front of about 30 people.’ i smirked. ‘Phylecia the nurse, she’s shortish, plush,massive chignon, her hair is probably midback length at least. she was the 1st 1 to me as i started to come out of it and helped me back into a chair and wheeled me back here. i’m sure if we ask around we can find quite a few people that saw it.’ ha ha fucker. try again?
‘we need to get you in hospital immediately to run tests to get your epilepsy under control!” he crowed.
i burst out laughing ‘<buzzz!>wrong answer, but thank you for playing. it isn’t epilepsy. it’s a progression of the condition. did my research, remember? most people don’t make it that far. see, the either force it into remission or kill themselves when they can’t take it anymore and BEFORE YOU ASK no. we can’t. i’m allergic to steroids and aspirin which cuts out anti-inflam’s AND muscle relaxers. and i refuse to take mood altering crap and will not become a pill zombie again because i live alone.’
cowed, he retreated. ‘well be all that as it may, you still need to have a mammogram and colonoscopy regularly. we can schedule those now.’
‘NO.WE. WILL. NOT.’ didn’t raise my voice. it was a low growl with clipped accent through gritted teeth.
then he blew up at ME (which means i won!) ‘you’d rather die of an undiagnosed medical condition than….’
i sat up fully then, raising my head all the way for the 1st time, letting the flourescant lights catch my eyes. (this will turn them glowing orange. it’s pretty sweet looking) ‘sir, i am already dying of a diagnosed condition which is incurable, progressive, degenerative and HORRIFICALLY painful.’
‘your stool HAS to be checked for blood.’ he shouted.
‘i do. daily. because i’m prone to constipation AND prolapse, that’s something i check EVERY damn time i have bowl movement. and now. since you have proven to ME beyond a shadow of a doubt that you have NO clue whatsoever as to what i have or what you’re even DOING here besides drumming up business for your own private practice? i want my scrips and i want you GONE. do not expect a favorable review on this dumb survey and if i may say, you lot picked the PERFECT time to implement this.’
he put my scip sheet on the counter ‘i guess i can’t even shake your hand.’ he said softly.
i offered him a knuckle tap which he took and slunk out.