With all of the issues I’ve been going through, the constant visits to doctors, specialists and shrinks – along with the ‘new’ set of diagnosis that have been thrust upon me as part of said visits – this joke really struck a chord with me:
Two immigrants meet on the street in New York. “How’s by you?” asks one.
“Could be worse, and you?”
“Surviving. But I’ve been sick a lot this year and it’s cost me a fortune. In the past 5 months I’ve spent over three hundred dollars on doctors and medicine.”
“Ach, back home on that kind of money you could have been sick for two years!”
I’m in two minds about the whole visits to the many medical practitioners – on the one hand, we’re attacking everything head on – catching things early, dealing with things and making a difference. On the other hand, it just depresses me further at how ‘broken’ I am and not to mention the average of $500 a week pumping out the door!
Logically I know that going through everything right now and dealing with it allows me to have a potentially better life going forward … but emotionally, I feel like crap shat on from a great height worse than when I first started this damned journey.
For the record, I don’t use the term broken willy nilly – here’s a brief on my (pertinent?) physical and mental medical history as it stands today (along with links to useful and informative pages on each one):
As you can see, it’s a great little collection of fucked up shit challenges that I have to work through …
My ‘mental’ meds have changed again so I’ve now gone from Aropax -> Xanax -> Zoloft -> Zoloft + Endronax -> Endronax -> Effexor XR … plus a collection of antibiotics and other pretty little pills to deal with some of the other joys.
I’ll finally get to see my GP next week and sit down and discuss which of the surgeries we will need to tackle in what order.