10 devil day

"And I came tearing out of that room with ten devils behind me..." (pfg)
"I know. I've seen them" (cjblue)
Summer, 1998

I had an MRI today. The MRI was fine. But pre-MRI...well, here's the story.

In general, I used to be ok with medical folks and medical settings. This is why I worked as an inpatient medical secretary ("clerk") throughout most of the 90s. The comfort and familiarity I had with the setting was good, it got me a job with benefits in MI, and it had helped to take the edge off any medical procedures I needed when I was younger. All of this changed in my 30s, it changed because I got Lyme disease. I can't ever assume I'll be ok in medical settings of any type, and I'm less ok when I am having any kind of procedure (my definition of procedure means anything where I have to have an IV and/or drink gallons of something that tastes like they use it to wash the floor). I'm at my worst when I have to drive - or in cases involving sedation, get a ride - way the fuck out of my way (because nothing is close by anything in CT) to have a procedure that my rather jaded cynnical perspective on health care providers says will most likely be useless. That is not to say the procedure is useless, but that it will be applied uselessly.

Case in point - the spinal tap I had for the lyme disease back in 2002. Lumbar puncture sucks. The office I had it in was far away. The electricity went out just as the doc pulled the needle out of my back. While I was "recupperating" 25 bouncey country miles away at home, the puncture leaked and I had to go back to the hospital (far away). Was it worth it? It was supposed to help determine the best course of treatment for the lyme, as I was not getting better even after three months of oral antibiotics. It turned out that the test was "not positive", which my doctor said meant we should continue on the course we were on even though thus far that course had not helped one tiny bit. As I was still somewhat trusting back then, rather than believing that they put me through this procedure for nothing, that they were ghoulishly waiting for me to develop a host of neurological symptoms (as opposed to just a handful) before they explained my test results in a less ambiguous manner, I thought "well that is a relief I guess, to know I don't have neuro-lyme. I don't know why I feel like I do, but I guess I'll just keep on the oral antibiotics and I'll get better eventually".

Eight headache and double vision filled months later, when new and not so exciting lyme symptoms started popping up, I was told by my (far away) neurologist that the spinal tap wasn't in fact "negative". I said "But they told me it was..." then recalled no, I was told it "wasn't positive". I dug out the old results and looked at them in detail. And the neurologist was right. It was "borderline". I was put through a miserable procedure which has risks and inconveniences gallore only for my doctors to NOT use the information they gathered from that procedure correctly. Over a year after I first got Lyme, I ended up on a PICC line for IV antibiotics. In the time between getting bit by the tick and gettingthe IV, more than one full year was wasted being sick, miserable, and verbally abused by at least one doctor for continuing to insist that I was not feeling better. I could have just done the bloody IV right after the tap, instead I had a year full of too many doctors' appointments, and lectures from arrogant insecure physicians who wanted to use me to grind their particular theoretical axe about this apparenly controversial disease. As if I cared about what was clearly their personal opinions on the matter. I didn't. I just wanted to get better. I didn't realize that their personal opinions about the matter were so solid they couldn't be swayed by empirical clinical and laboratory evidence. I didnt' realize it was my job to not only advocate for myself and my health but that this advocacy would mean actually FIGHTING with doctors who were obstinately ignorant. I didn't realize that my physicians' personal beliefs were more important than my health. And when I did realize this, I was somewhat understandably, well, outraged.

That outrage is not far below my surface in any medical context now.

I tell you this so you understand that this whole several year long experience has added up to a sizable chip on my shoulder for things medical. On days when I see a new doctor, I am stressed and volatile. On days when I am going for a procedure, I'm probably clinically insane.

So now the MRI. Everyone was pretty nice about scheduling it and all that. And it really wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I'm a wee bit claustrophobic, something I never knew until I did a different kind of MRI for a friend at the lab who does functional neuralimaging studies on reading and such. I found out that day in the magnet that I don't like being in the magnet. Not one bit. I told my doctor this last week, and he got me an appointment for an "open" MRI. Yesterday, I was advised by the radiology people to get a sedative before hand. So a sedative was called in for me to pick up at the last minute on my way down for the MRI.

Today I got up, debated with A about all sorts of stuff political, academic, and the like for far too long over coffee and breakfast, then had to fly out of the house to make it to the drug store to get my sedative and then down to the MRI facility far far away.

Needless to say, I'm in a rush and the anxiety is setting in. The MRI place is down near the place where I was treated for my Lyme. I haven't been down there since the PICC line in 2003, and I knew there would be sense triggered memory of the horrible Lyme months along the way.

I got to the drug store and there was a small group of people at the prescription counter. A couple with a baby and a somewhat dirty looking man standing off to the side-ish. In fact, no one was really directly in front of the counter. I assessed the situation and decided that although I was in a rush, I didn't want to be rude.
So I said to the dirty looking man who was standing off to the side "are you waiting to be helped?"
He slowly angled his head and shoulders around to address me. He paused and looked me up and down. He looked around me. He looked slowly back at the tech. I was in this NOW NOW NOW mood and so this sluggish behavior was only slowing things down. Yes or no, simple answer. I could feel my blood starting to simmer. He looked about ready to speak, then didn't. He gestured to the pharmacy tech at the counter who had now focussed on me with a "can I help you" look on her face. He looked behind me, above me, then back at me.
Finally the man spoke. He said "a better question would be 'is there any hope?'."

At this point, I really have no good recollection of the exact order of events. From then on, the entire interaction is a series of adrenaline scorched snapshots in my mind. I know all of this happened, but the order of the events is a little vague.

I know I stepped closer to the counter and then said something like "What? Excuse me? Are you waiting or have you been helped?" to the man, and also somewhat to the tech.
The tech addressed me by name, saying, "Just the one script, right?" and started to look for it in the bin behind the counter.
I said "Yeah," to the tech, then turned back around to the man who had been muttering and said "You know I just wanted to know if you were waiting, I didn't mean to cut in front of you -"
He interrupted "But you did. You cut in front of me"
I said "And you were waiting? You were being helped? Why didn't you answer my question? I just came in to get one thing, my valium so I can go get a fucking MRI -"
"And I also" he said. I don't think he meant valium, because of the two of us, it seemed more than obvious that I was the one who needed the sedative. He needed a smack in the head, and I more than anyone in probably a 10 mile radius, really REALLY needed that valium more and more every second.

The clerk pulled my script and said "Do you have ten dollars?" I think she was desperately hoping I did, but no. I had a credit card. Great. We all wanted me the hell out of there as soon as possible, I realized this even then. And I didn't blame her. I handed her my card.
I waited while the she ran the card. I asked her "were you with the man standing behind me?"
And she said "oh it's ok, he's laid back..."
I said "Well I'm not."
The annoying man was standing far too close behind me. I guess people don't realize that when someone is that angry, it might be good not to antagonize it.
From his much to intimate position behind my back, he said, "I said I was waiting and you cut in front of me". Or something like that.

Lest you believe I was saying any of this in a polite and calm manner dear reader, allow me to dispell that. I was LIVID and it was obvious. My only restraint was that I had not reached out and smacked this ugly man standing behind me.

I said turning part of the way around to face him, "When I first came in, I was trying to ascertain whether you were in line, had been helped, or whatever. So I ASKED you if you were waiting, and you gave me some coy (I might have said "fucking" here) answer. I didn't want to cut you off, but what the hell kind of answer is that?"

While I was waiting for the card to go through, I turned around to look at the man. I leaned my back and hands against the counter, mostly looking for his eyes. I wanted this man to know that if he wanted to communicate with me, he had lost his chance by playing the games that older men think are funny to play with younger women. I wanted him to know that if he had anything else to say at this point, it would be fightin' words and he was going to have to say them to my fully hostile and confrontation ready face and not to my back.

Oh GOD did he pick the wrong woman to play games with today. I thought that telling him that I was there for the valium would have possibly been a bit of a warning, you know, like "hi I'm not ok right now and I am trying to be polite anyhow but you aren't so fuck off for everyone's good, ok?". The tech knew. I don't take valium or the likes, ever. Narcotic naive individuals who get a last minute script for 4 valium are getting it because they need to do something that causes them anxiety. And anxiety is easily transmuted into anger and other negative emotions. Your body's already on edge, then there's something that is threatening or hostile (I perceive that kind of condescending male rudeness to women as both) and you're just right over the edge. But understanding this would have meant this man would have had to curtail his little manly shit fit that I dared to even ask him if he was waiting. I truly believe that his attitude started immediately on my asking if he was waiting or being helped the first time, and that the attitude was because by my asking I was questioning his right to just fucking stand there and take up space like he's all this pharmacy tech has to do all day. Maybe she should have been peeling him a grape while he waited for whatever it was he was waiting for. It wasn't his drugs, they were on the counter. I don't really give a shit what it was, in fact. I don't think it matters. I think he was stuck waiting for some reason and thought anyone who came along should stand there while he petulantly stuck it out not letting anyone else get work done or business conducted. And then along came me. In a rush, anxious, and not particularly liking men who act like this even when I'm in the a more charitable and stable mood.

After the tech brought back my card, I said to the man "The next time someone asks you something like that, maybe you can just respond to the question instead of playing (fucking?) games."

I can't believe I didn't break anything leaving the store.