Doctors- The Bain of my Existence Part II

Now the recent Trials.

I do not like to repeat this story over and over, so I will write the whole saga down and refer others to this page.  I am going to tell you what the Doctors have told me and it isn't pretty.

I will explain how later, but I managed to loose 80 pounds.  It did not make much of a difference, in fact it made quite a few things worse.  My weight is carried in my belly and that was where most of difference was noticeable.  My belly was no longer a round Buddha-look but began to hang down forming a huge apron of skin.  My thighs would bang into my stomach as I walked and I would get sores under the folds of skin, but despite that I experienced my golden age of life during these years from 1999-2008.  I was begged to go to a Fashion Design college.  It was not an idea that ever entered my head and a scout for the school found me.  I learned how to present myself.  I found the benefit of beautiful clothing and how to dress my strange body.  I was complimented on my looks from complete strangers in the train station on my way home from school on the weekends and I knew that I had made a tremendous amount of progress in myself.  I got the job costuming and life was good.

No Doctors were there to spoil it.  I was able to get a job as a Behavior Therapist helping Special Needs Children through word of mouth.  I finally had something to connect to other people with.  They did not understand the costuming, but everyone understood working with Mentally different children and their behaviours.  I very much felt my body once again holding me back from what I knew I could accomplish.  With the Behaviour Therapist job came a steady paycheck with all the government benefits attached and that included  Health Insurance.  I wanted a Tummy Tuck.  I was tired of being smothered at night by my own belly fat. 

I asked a friend for a Doctor recommendation, set the appointment and went, pleased that I had done so much to better my life.  I sat on the table when he walked in looked at me up and down and said bluntly, "You need a Gastric Bi-pass."  I was livid.  He did not look at my belly.  He did not look at all the work I had done on myself.  He did not do any tests before he made this statement.  He judged me in one glance and he was wrong!  For the first time in my life I stood up for myself.  "How Dare you!"  I replied. "You know nothing about me.  You know nothing about my past or my background and you judge me by what you assume to be true.  I came to you for help.  A Gastric Bi-pass my be right for me, but why don't you consider other options first."  I was yelling and trembling and my anger toward the audacity of doctors shot me through with adrenalin.  I stomped out.

I found another Dr that was willing to help.  He started the tests and it was with him that I found out the Diabetes had become full blown even with all my changes to my diet.  And this is when the prescription upon prescription started.  I had a bad reaction to all of them.  I began to see the Dr every 2 weeks and I was sicker then I had ever felt in my whole life.  The pills did not work and when I would say that I was having adverse affects he would give me a look, but he began to give me samples first and we would see how I reacted to it.  I took my blood sugar every day three times a day and it hurt and was painful, but the worst was the metal effects.  I would have high blood sugar in the morning, which is very strange since I would not eat for hours, the numbers lower in the afternoon and jump a bit for dinner.  I was vigilant with my eating and my behavior and the numbers would still be high.  Then the Dr would add more useless pills.  I hated it.  I was so exhausted with having a normal working schedule.  I was getting sicker and sicker and I was doing everything the Doctor asked of me.  I wasn't losing anymore weight and my feet were swelling and beginning to adversely affect me.  They were going numb and the Doctor said there was nothing that could be done,

I went forward to get permission for the Tummy Tuck after months of jumping through hoops and writing letters, sending in records, talking with my Dr.  the insurance company said no.  It felt so wrong.  I wasn't doing the surgery for vanity reasons, it was hoped that taking the belly off would jump start me into loosing more weight.  I admit I did want to be pretty too,but I knew no amount of surgery would change how I felt about myself.  I asked how much it would cost.  There were all kinds of special offers from the  hospital and Dr and the cost was more than half of what I thought.  I had the credit and I had a job and I wanted to feel better, so I went for it.

Meanwhile, I found a nurse to live with when my parents had moved to Virginia and I was pretty much alone.  The day before my surgery I got a letter from work saying that I had been laid off.  I wasn't surprise, a mass amount of teachers and aids had been laid off because of the financial crisis in California.  I thought about canceling, but figured I could get another job in Virginia when I had healed. 

I had the surgery,  The doctor took off over 20 pounds of my belly.  I saw my feet when looked down for the first time in my life.  It was so wonderfully freeing.  I looked the same Becky, so I was grateful I had done the surgery for the way I felt.  I began healing well, except for one problem.  Right before I was going to fly to stay with my mother I found myself covered in liquid.  The nurse I was staying with saw a hole had opened up in my stitches.  I went to see the surgeon to make sure it was safe to fly.  He said to let the fluid drain and the hole would close on it's own.   It did after a month, but then I felt the fluid gather in my belly.  I was experiencing lots of pain at this time, but the fluid would fill my stomach up until I felt like I was going to burst.  I commented that I felt pregnant with a water baby.  I returned to the surgeon and he stuck a large needle in me and would draw out an orangey fluid every week.  His nurse would ask me every week if I felt better and every week I felt a little worse.

During these months I was receiving a California disability every month so I was able to survive if I was careful with my money.  I could still shop and get myself food.  I was unable to bend and stairs were becoming more difficult to propel my body up.  I lost my health insurance before I healed enough to move to Virginia and my own Dr became very sick having to leave his pratice all in the same month.

The surgeon was the only medical professional I could go to.  The fluid wasn't stopping, so he put a drain inside of me to close the pocket he believed had formed from the surgery.  It is a normal side affect and he thought I would be better once the pocket was closed.  I became sicker.  Finally he took the tube out and told me to go to the emergency room something was very wrong.

I went to the emergency room where they decided to admit me to the hospital.  I kept telling them I did not have any health insurance.  I did not have any money.  I could not pay.  They kept saying they would help me.  I stayed in the hospital for a week.  That is when they found out my kidney's were working at only 13%.  My blood pressure was out of control.  My feet were killing me.  They could not find a cause for any of my problems. so it was all blamed on the diabetes.  At the time my blood sugar was out of control because of the loss of my Dr.  I went on insulin and a billion pills that I said did not worked. They released me to a harried clinic Dr that was busy trying to convince patients that he did not need Oxycontin for a skin rash.

I had problem after problem.  I kept paying to see the kidney Dr I had met in the hospital.   After a month of appointments she sat me down and we had an honest conversation.  I asked her if I would ever feel any better.  She said no.  I asked  her if I would ever be able to take care of myself and she said no.  My kidney's are functioning at a failing level.  She said I was in stage 4 of kidney failure  and stage 5 is dialyses.  There were no pills that would fix me.  She predicted my kidney's would fail in 2 years and I would live on dialyses for another 2 years.  The news sucked.  I was told in a very nice way that I was going to die.

I had a year of disability.  I lived off of that and resigned myself to the fact that I would have to move back in with my parents.  I did not want to move to Virginia.  I knew that the section of small town the house was located in was not right for me.  I knew it would mean my life was over and I fought moving back.  I lost.

Finding a Dr here has been a nightmare.  We are lucky enough to have a hospital in the area, but every Dr.  I called did not have an appointment for over 3 months.  I went blind a few months after moving in.  My mother knew someone at church who was recovering from a serious eye problem and see refer ed a Retina specialist to us.  We had to drive an hour away, but he fit me in.  Dr, Vogel is the kindest man I have ever met.  He took one look in my eyes and knew I would go blind if he did not help me.  I told him I did not have any money and he did not care.  He performed over ten thousand dollars of surgery and procedures on me.  I paid him the cost of his lunch.  They sent a bill with the tally of costs and at the bottom it asked me to pay $8.  I sent the money to them right away and as I joke I told him I would have paid at the office because he made me pay for a stamp.  He laughed and then proceded to deducted the 47 cents from that appointments bill.  He is a great man and I will do another entry on him, but both of my retinas tore, the blood filling my eyes blocking my vision.  It had nothing to do with the diabetes or my other problems.  He said it happened with those who had my vision problems.  I finally got my blindness resolved.  My brain has learned how to compensate.  I do not drive though, I amquite scared.  I am not good at telling how far away objects are and that tends to freak me out. 

I began having trouble trouble breathing and I was throwing up constantly.  My mother became worried my kidney's were failing so my parents took me to the hospital emergency room again.  My kidney's were stable, but I coughed a certain way when he came back into the room, which began another line of questioning.  I was again admitted to the hospital, this time a year later with congestive heart failure.  I was drowning in my own fluids.  From that visit I learned they think there is something wrong with my heart,but they can't do anymore test because the dye I would have to drink would destroy the last functions of my kidney's.  Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

I went to the kidney Dr again here in Virginia and he was just as rude and mean as they ever were to me.  Thankfully he said in a blunt way that there was nothing he could do for me unless I changed in front of my mother.  She know I had tried.  I felt that she got the message that I was very sick.  I was dumbfounded that after all this time here was yet another Dr telling me that my problems were all my fault.  I asked what he planned to do for me.  He did not give me any constructive answer and I knew  not to waste my money on him.

Now I finally found a Dr that is willing to try his best for me.  I know his only response will be another pill, but he found one that actually works to get the fluid out and for that I am grateful.  He tries to listen to me. but I feel like he gets overwhelmed with all my symptoms and have to be careful about the information I give to him.   He is monitoring my kidney's and fluid.  I do not feel that my problems are being addressed.  I do think something went a little screwy with the surgery, but I don't know if I haven't ever healed or if the pain is from a mistake.  I live in a balancing act.  I loose the cushion of fluid and a deep ripping pain starts.  It feels like two teams are playing tug-o-war with ropes straped to either side of my stomach or with too much fluid I am drowning and ready to pop.  But all the time there is a constant overwhelming exhaustion.  I can not stand.  I feel like I have a 20 pound weight attached by a string to the back of my bellybutton.  I stand and my knees buckle from the strain of being pull to the floor.  My feet are so bad I can't stand to look at them.  I wobble from the strain and from the fact I can no longer feel my toes, so they don't grip.  I hate to wear shoes because it feels like heavy nubs on the end of my knees. 

Sleep constantly eludes me.  I found out after reading an article I am on Mars time.  I can't eat, which is wreaking havoc on my insulin.  I am a prisoner in this house hardly ever leaving because it is so impossible.  I can't shop for food. It is very difficult to go any restaurants.  I am unable to go to church because of the combination of getting up for it and sitting in uncomfortable seats for hours.  My life is my computer and if I have enough motivation, my projects.  I wonder every night as I watch the sun rays fill the room why I am even still alive.  The suffering is unbearable and beyond belief.

I keep two thoughts in my head.  One- Something could change.  I do not have any faith in that thought, but I have no idea what kindness could come my way and I need to be open enough to accept it.  And Two-  I am doing the best I can.  I do each day.  I do what I can and I am not being lazy or taking from others.  I am still trying to better myself even with the obstacles I face.