Wow. Just . . . Wow.

Somebody just said something so hypocritical, accusatory, and inaccurate to me at the wrong place, the wrong time and in company that I'm having an adrenalin rush trying to calm down.

Because it was the wrong place, wrong time, with company, I just got up and left the room. I haven't slammed any doors, given any dirty looks, no real reaction. I think being stunned by the Wrongness and totally offended helped me make it out of the room with no fanfare.

I've got to get out of this place. I can't let people who don't or won't bother to understand me continue to have an effect on me. I can't keep taking shit from people that I'm not allowed to confront. It's just no good. It's not healthy for me.

I may be a piece of shit, worthless, unbearable human being, but that doesn't mean you get to shit all over me. You don't get to blindside me with your constant projection and transference of your neuroses.

I have the right not to be attacked. I have the right not to have to deal with all your fucked up shit. I have the right to defend myself. And apparently I have the duty, as well, since nobody else is going to do it.

This is an inherently unfair dynamic, but I suppose I ultimately have no one to blame but myself, as I perpetuate these roles. And it is within my power, theoretically, to stop this whole cycle. I could, hypothetically, choose not to be furious and offended right now.

So I sit here, taking slow breaths, trying to let go of all the yucky stuff, plotting my escape, plotting my freedom, hoping for a break, and wishing I could just be left alone. You just have to convince yourself that It Doesn't Matter. A simple concept, but often a difficult execution.

One day I will be Someplace that isn't Angry or Hurt or Boxed In. I know that. I just have to get there. I hate these feelings. So very much.

And Eff You Very Much

Well, I just got off the phone with the clinic that Rx'ed me some meds for chronic pain. You know, the ones that worked, but 3 out of 5 patches were so defective I couldn't use them.

Fun!

I've been calling (and visiting) this clinic for four weeks. Four weeks of phone calls, messages, answering questions, answering the same questions, and repeating personal details of my life story to whoever I happened to get on the phone.

I know it's been four weeks because last time I called it was because I was in intense pain because of my period. That's right, I originally called to get refills when my stuff malfunctioned for the severe pain I was in A Month Ago.

And now that feeling is coming back, as it always does and probably always will.

And today--this phone call--somebody FINALLY told me, "Oh, we can't refill those prescriptions."

Dude. Seriously? And this was info that couldn't be mentioned BEFORE I SPENT AN ENTIRE MONTH PLAYING PHONE AND OFFICE TAG WITH YOU MOTHERFUCKERS????????

It's really easy. A patient asks a yes/no question, you provide one of the two answers. No. That's all you had to say. No.

I just....what the...I can't even deal with this shit. What?

Well, at least I have one patch left, so I have 3 days of mitigated pain. This month.

Goddamn I'm tired.

I Don't Know What To Do

ETA: Shrink called back and saw glorious reason. Thank god for East Coast Jewish Doctor transplants. 

tl;dr Medical shit. I really don't enjoy being this person. But I need to express this anger somehow, lest it eat me up. This seems the least toxic for the humans around me. I'm sorry to be a broken record.

I have 3 medical conditions(A, B, C) that require Rx drugs/treatment. I probably need surgery (again) for one of the conditions, and I'll probably still have to take meds after that.

I picked up an independent contracting job in Florida. So I've been in FL for several months and have a few more to go.

I signed up for coverage in CA. I'm so poor I only potentially qualify for state sponsored Medicaid. When I last spoke with a representative, they advised me that everything was processing and that they were categorically refusing to give estimation dates on when to expect application processing. I'm supposed to wait and eventually get something in the mail.

Would that coverage do anything in another state? I don't know. I have no idea what it encompasses and am waiting on some mail notification to be forwarded from CA to my temporary digs. Nothing so far.

I bring this up because, despite the fact that I am willing and do pay out of pocket, suddenly every doctor in 2014 wants to know not if, but when I will be getting insurance. They have no idea what it will cover or if it's even applicable in the cases we are discussing. But they ask. Over and over. It seems to be a sticking point---almost like they can't really treat people with no coverage anymore? I'm not sure. But I have been interrogated in person and over the phone extensively just trying to get Rx refills in FL for meds prescribed IN FL.

Now, for medical condition B, my docs think I need nerve pills. Because, after three years of pursuing multiple therapies, according to them I obviously have psychological conditions that require treatment. (It couldn't possibly be that I had an organ removed and the compensatory meds are not adequate blah blah ignorancecakes). And let me tell you what, no matter what your state by the time you spend a few years getting the runaround from these yahas you NEED psych meds, just to deal with the bullshit. And, quite frankly, because when you can't get relief where you need it (condition A), then you gotta take what helps.

Just submitted a refill for my two shrink meds. I have no phone, and won't until mid month, but I just figured out how to check my voice messages. My shrink called and said "I haven't seen you, this med is being filled in one state and shipped to another, I'm not comfortable. You need to find somebody where you are to get this Rx."

I left him a msg asking if this was going to apply to BOTH meds he prescribed, or just that one that everybody seems so touchy about. I explained that the Rxs had always shipped from another state b/c I'm on a mail order system. Back in CA, they will still show as shipping from another state. Because that's where they ship them from.

And this is an issue because? Because I am obviously running a bi-coastal drug scam with my monthly prescription? I drive 36 hours a couple times a month to....what? I'm not even sure what I could be doing, but apparently it's scandalous.

Running out of money meant I could no longer pursue the pain treatment course for condition C--a wondrous chronic item that sometimes takes 4 days out of my life, sometimes 3 weeks. I had to cease the $300/pop doctor visits, but retained the substandard meds he provided. Until he refused to refill them again. I tried contacting his office but never heard back from them. I'm assuming he suspended refills because I wasn't seeing  him on a regular basis. I've heard that reasoning before.

Let me reiterate so that you can appreciate what I'm saying: Since I can't afford to go to the doctor on a regular basis, he refuses to continue to prescribe me medication. I have a diagnosis and a treatment plan, he is refusing to continue it. I could, theoretically, make an appt and go every month or week or whatever. Except then I don't have enough money to buy the meds. Hell, I don't have enough money to buy the meds now. That's why Satan invented credit cards.

So my pain doc cold turkey-ed my meds. My shrink just announced that is going to cold turkey at least one, maybe both of my psych meds. This is responsible doctoring.

I went to a doc here in FL and explained my situation for condition C--chronic pain. It's been getting worse. I explained all about the pain mgmt, the fact that I probably need surgery, blah blah. He was very nice and gave me two Rx. One was fine. The other provided a different kind of relief that was nauseating, but effective. It was also in a patch form, and 4 of the five patches malfunctioned and fell off. Two of them instantly. Call pharmacy and doc about it, conclusion: nobody else in the world has ever had this problem. I am a freak. Deal with it. And suck up the $100 you spent to get 2/5 of a medication.

Well, okay. Can I get a refill on those items then? I called in a moment of extreme pain and duress. That was 3 weeks ago. I've called multiple times. Been given the runaround, been called by the clinic, etc. I even had to go back in for some ass kicking sinusitis. While there I followed up again just trying to find out if I could get anything refilled.

They keep asking me: "When are you going to see a specialist for your condition?"

Well, I don't have the money. I mean, it's like $5K to $15K to get this stuff taken care of. And that's before the post op treatment. Which I will likely have to be on for life.

Again, clarification point: I probably have to take pain meds for the rest of my life to get relief, no matter what surgeries and treatments I get. This is a medical fact. My only hope is menopause. No shit.

Called clinic today and they said, "Oh, the doc wants to know when you are going to get insurance and see a specialist." That's his answer to "Can a brother get a refill?" That is also the 4th or 5th time I will have answered the question for that clinic, in great detail. It's all in my chart. I watched them write it down. I told him to his face.

I don't have money to see new doctors here, to get new prescriptions. Especially not if those Rx will cease to be fillable when I go back to CA. Each visit is a minimum of $100, for any of the three conditions. Some are up to $300. And on top of all that, there is no guarantee that any doctor will re-prescribe what I'm on. Some of them like to run you through the whole circus again, no matter what your history says, your charts.

And obviously, as a patient and sufferer of these conditions, I am in no place to have an opinion or deduction about any of it.

So, I'm working out of state because it's the only job I have been able to get. Money good. Help pay bills. Help pay for medicine.

Because I'm out of state, my doctors don't want to refill my prescriptions. Also because I haven't had an appt in a while. (Which I totally would have been able to do with all the money I wouldn't be making had i stayed unemployed in state, oh, wait, sorry to introduce logic there. No place in medicine for logic.)

What the hell is going on? What am I supposed to do? Is this happening because I'm poor and broke? Is something else going on? Am I being discriminated against because of my conditions? Am I on some "chronic pain" blacklist? If I need to be on psych meds, should they just take them away? What can I do when faced with a government that refuses to respond? Why can't I just pay for the things that work?

Why can't I just pay for the things that work? Why don't I deserve access to treatment?

Things That Flutter, Sink, Slither, and Blink

Somedays the bar gets you. Maybe not even in a demonstrable or recognizable way. But you feel it nonetheless.

The times you are your own worst enemy, your worst handicap.

You can legitimately ask, "Why do anything? What is the point?" It's not self-pity, it's a real question. If your life is weighted towards the negative, you've chosen pessimism, you've realized your own ridiculousness; what's the point?

No one is reliant on you. You have debts no honest man can pay. You're too old to start anew and still too deafened by your fading youth to notice that actually You Are So Much Older Than You Think.

Savannah tulips.

You don't contribute anything to the world, and you won't. You haven't learned any valuable, enriching, or even entertaining skills.

This body is not the body you signed up for. It has never worked to your satisfaction and now even the most drastic measures make no difference. This brain doesn't even work as well as it used to, and it never worked that well to begin with.

There is not a single thought in your head that someone else hasn't expressed or applied in some much better way. There isn't a single thing that you've done that couldn't have been done better by many others.

You have been judged by yourself and found wanting.

Life outlooks are choices. So if you find yourself adrift in pessimism (which is the secret cancer of all idealists), what is the point? Why are you still here?

No matter the presence or absence of religious/spiritual beliefs, all humans create a coping mechanism which gives them something to build on in day to day life. Your life can be beautiful, if that's the way you choose to see it.

I had a wonderful few days of Not Giving A Fuck. Or maybe I had a few wonderful days because i Did Not Give A Fuck. Whichever, that is a train in need to board soon.

In other news, hipster douchebag twats have appropriated the monocle. Jesus wept.

Freedom, Oh Freedom, That's Just Some People Talking

No one listens.

I've told everyone I'm on funky meds, that I'm short tempered, that I'm having a hard time keeping a lid on it.

No one acknowledges, gives credit.

They pride themselves on how careful they are with you, what eggshells they walk on. They have no idea of how much of your life you have spent not saying anything, because you are considered devastating.

No one treats you like you are devastating until they feel guilty.

They don't tread with caution. They don't give credence to your statements. Is it because you are not yelling? Is it because you try to maintain politeness even when being provoked?

And when you do react, when you step away, take a breath, make an emotional statement - it is a set up. You are over reacting by reacting at all.

No one allows you to be angry.

Even if you aren't just angry. Even if you're hurt. Even if your expression of anger is to leave quietly, asking nothing of anyone, apologizing for your state.

Because any reaction equals anger? Because your anger is so terrible it's unfair to visit it on anyone? Because you aren't the only one in this state?

And then your reward comes. It's not just the reward for this moment of adult behavior and repression of homicidal rage. It's the reward for being the wailing wall, being the sin eater. It's your reward for listening, acknowledging being cautious, holding in the modes of expression that would upset others.

And your reward is that you now get to facilitate communciation with the very people you don't want to speak to. You comfort the people that yelled at you, attacked you, caused you discomfort.

That is your lot in ife. This is what you get for being transparent, for trying to share information, for reaching out, for listening.

And on the day wherein they were once again bestowed with the ability to NGAF, there was much mellow.

And of course, everything's fine. Because you make i tthat way.

My relationship with Life:

I'm the Universe.

Getting real sick of your shit, Cosmos. Sit and spin.

Nothing Pleasant Here

ETA: And then he got me egg drop soup and we watch a Duck Dynasty marathon and everything was fine. 

I fling things into the ether of the internet in the hopes that it will help mitigate circumstances which would lead to real life screaming throw downs.

I've always thought my parents did a good job with raising all of the kids with good manners. Even if we are being vulgar or crude, we are still extremely polite. Lots of "please, thank you, excuse me"--a real sense of propriety among other people.

What I can't figure out is how I ended up the chivalrous one, while two of brothers are real jackasses.

I just lugged two huge loads of stuff from my car into the apartment. Two long boxes of soft drinks (so heavy on one shoulder), huge bags of books---just a shit load of stuff. Took me two trips.

My bro is sitting outside on the front porch when I pull up. He doesn't make a move to help me. Well, he does push the front door open for me, so there's that.

On trip two I have to open the door myself. He's just sitting there.

Okay.

Then I'm unloading stuff inside and his first words to me, as if we were already in mid conversation, are "Man, I really wish I could quit my job." He briefly details that other ppl want to quit too. Because it's Just. So. Damn. Horrible. This from the guy who goes in when he wants, leaves when he wants, and just recently negotiated being able to work from home. Yeah.

I feel my internal alarms go off, as the thermometer on my rage starts going up. I put some things away and wander back to the living room. Guess who wants to comment some more on how angry and peeved they are? Clue: it's not me.

At this point I have said absolutely nothing to him except my initial "Hi" when I got out of the car. It took an amazing amount of willpower for me to not blurt out "Oh, hey, my day went just great, thanks for asking? No, it's a breeze working again with all my defective organ issues. Yeah, I'm totally still struggling with the med induced rage, but my docs have told me to fuck right off about it. Thanks for asking!"

No. Instead I grabbed my backpack and retreated to the bedroom. Shutting the door. I've been in here typing for 5 minutes and Sherlock just asked "Hey, are you alright?"

Jesus Fucking Christ. How the hell did I end up the only chivalrous one in my family? My dad and brothers SUUUUUUUCK on that level. So self involved, so dismissive.

And it's not a sexist/gender thing for me. I open doors for men and women. I have helped out elderly couples in airports, wheeling them to their proper gate (that was opposite of mine). I'll stop and help someone pick up something they've dropped. When visiting my parents, I always go out and help her bring in the groceries.

Chivalry. Graciousness. Awareness. Whatever you want to call it, the quality is sorely lacking in some of my closest associates. Is it any wonder the world is fucked up?

And thus endeth my rant. Thank you, dear interwebz, for allowing me to say this here rather than beating my brother upside the head with a box of soda cans. It's probably a better choice. Maybe.

Black Rage! Black Rage!

--As always, tamping down on my emotions so other people can have theirs, H.