Tag: anxiety

Don’t Tell Me My Dick is Crooked When It’s Perfectly Straight

I did my least favorite thing in the world yesterday. I went to a new doctor. In the past when I have gone to new doctors, I have always looked at them as these great big ancient buildings like the Colisseum or the Great Sphinx, marvelous and magnificent but crumbling and old.

Well getting older sucks because all my youthful indiscretions about doctors being these relics of the past are becoming fantasy. I had a doctor who actually listened to me and asked questions. One that actually typed fast and knew how to work a computer. She even used a smartphone. I know I should expect this out of people in the world we are in today especially from someone younger than me but I sort of live in my own universe.

I never see anyone out in public paying with their phone. When I use my phone to pay with pretty much anything people look at me in awe or say they do not accept that as payment. Honey, the cash register don’t lie. Look I payed with my phone. I am some kind of Houdini. Not really. I just have loved tech from the day I first even knew such a thing existed.

 

Anyway back to this doctor. The reason I do not see a whole hell of a lot of doctors is because for every one doctor I see am always told to go see about 10 other specialists. Well it is more like about 4 I mean it is only about that many body parts or areas of mine that do not work and mainly that is because I am a fat lazy fuck.

It was just highly amusing being told all this, because being told all this was basically the reason I stopped seeing my last set of doctors. You seemingly have no idea what is wrong with me and then tell me to see about 5 other doctors. Listen… I know I am fucked in the head, have no semblance of time, space and reality… or sentence structures…

or paragraphs.

I know my teeth suck, my eye twitches somewhat, I walk like a Hunchback, I say inappropriate things, have a slightly abnormal heart, and smoke like the Marlboro man. I came for you about my stomach. I mean if you wanted to destroy my prostate I would understand but don’t tell me to stop pissing in the sink when I came to you about the leak in my roof…

Anyway people in general need to stop pretending they can offer you the world or give two shits about every aspect of your being when all they care about is a diagnostic code, a pharmacy refill, and their direct deposit.

Who knows if I go back….the anxiety kills. The pain is still real. I thought about getting high on god knows what for the first time in about 10 years because well you know doctors want to know every drug you ever tried as a teenager. Well goddamn it how about all of them. I was a curious little fucker.

The only reason I am not curious about random drugs now is they haven’t made any good new ones in the past 20 years. Maybe longer. That’s for another hour. Another post. Also well they do have these things called teenagers now too. They are good for new music, friending on social media and looking at the 18/19 famous pretty ones. Never make contact with one in person however as they may and will ask for cigarettes, alcohol purchases, or if they are trying to fuck one of your friends they tend to come down with a massive case of can’t shut the fuckupitis.

Done. For now. No idea…. brain malfunction….

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Fake Doctors: Blah, Blah, Bullshit

Ever since I was a young child, I have been affected by other people’s emotions and thoughts. No I cannot read the minds of people that I do not know and most of the time cannot read the minds of people that I do know. Sometimes I wish I could; most of the time I’m glad I cannot do this the majority of the time.

Yet when I have felt the feelings of others, the majority of the time this has frightened me. This has caused me to turn to alcohol (mostly) and turn to drugs the remander of the times. Usually there is so much negativity when I enter a room or false hope or fake smiles, that I have a proclivity towards not really associating with the general public all that often. 

I have taken recent steps to try and change this. I cannot and will not shut these feelings off anymore with psychotropic drugs, legal or street, ever again. It is rather hard for me to accept these kind of things as being real or being a blessing instead of a curse but I know they do exist. People have tried to label me in the past as having depression or bipolar disorder or (name a disorder ) they’ve probably said, “Yes! You do have THIS!”.

 

Newsflash to all those wonderful people that wear the biggest masquerade ball mask of all! This would be psychatrists to those of who may be wearing a mask of your own.

First of all, I do not accept your practice as a genuine medical science. It is a cash cow. Simply put: We are all human. We all get depressed and anxious and have mood swings and get too happy for things that we shouldn’t be getting so happy about. 

Another reason I do not accept your practice as legitimate is due to the fact that while, yes, I have in fact met the definition of clinical depression in the past but all that antidepressants have done is either make me more depressed or caused side effects so great that the idea of facing the world in any way, shape or form was most undesired.

What you may ask are these side effects? Everything from numbing of the face to sharp pains in my side (presumably my kidney) to having auditory hallucinations (which included by were not limited to hearing all music and sound a semitone lower then what actually was occuring) to homicidal nightmares to headaches that lasted for weeks on end to not having the full functionality of my brain available to me. 

Of course, all doctors and professionals in their field will tell you to bear through the side effects and they will go away. However I have to much of my brain to go without my brain. I’m quick with my mouth and well when it takes 30 seconds to coming up with something clever or meaningful to say versus 2.3 seconds (or less), I am completely dull and worthless to myself and others. 

How then did this depression go away? I made a choice to at least try and be happy. Do things that make me happy. See people that make me happy. Listen to music that makes me happy. It’s pretty amazing how a bunch of little things add up sometimes to complete the puzzle. 

No, I’m not perfect. I still make tons of really stupid decisions but the level of stupidity is going downward. I am the most relaxed I have been in my entire life. 

I am not really afraid of anything except writing. I love to write and since my life is relatively simple now, there is no excuse for me to not drop everything when I get a thought or idea. I guess fear stops me. I’m scarred right now. lol. well not that much more tired. 🙂

I just wish more people could see things the way I do. I don’t want to get into all kinds of specifics right now though, I’m too tired to think much more and too private to reveal all my intracacies in a public blog. Or most people wouldn’t believe what I am saying, at least the ones that think they know me. 

And with that I say naught more. 

By SpaceDog 

Dr. Ignoramus’s Monumental Misdiagnosis Results in Near Death

Recently my Heart tried to kill me since the Chain Smoking, Binge Drinking, Shitty Diet, Shooting Heroin, Smoking Crack, Other Assorted Narcotics, and Hepatitis C couldn’t get the job done first. Ironically the issue with my Damnable Heart is more than likely due to my prior Drug use earlier in My wayward Youth. As usual People tell Me I’d feel better off if I wrote about whatever it is currently vexing the shit out of me (like My Hellish Heart) if I write about it. Well no shit Sherlock. The reason I never would have mentioned My Shitty Heart scenario is because its none of anyones fucking business but Mine, and I’ll handle it so Everyone Piss Off. I also hate People who always seem to be bitching about there fucking health always seeking sympathy. I don’t need nor want anyones sympathy.

Well with that said I’m using this post as an Acid Test to see if in this case writing about it helps, so We will see here We go….

I had been having increasing trouble breathing to the point it was disrupting My Sleep and Appetite. At this point even though I detest no despise Doctor’s, Hospitals, Health Insurance Companies, and Medical Testing decided it was time to check things out (though I was already convinced there was nothing to worry about so I’d get it checked out.) I ended up at a Local Hospitals Urgent Care Satellite Office because Hospitals are now desperately trying to cash in on the Walk-In Urgent Care Field.

This makes perfect sense as Hospital ER’s are loosing increasing amounts of income due to the fact people opt for Urgent Care Clinic’s (usually because of convince and most of all Price. You see as soon as you walk into an ER your tab starts at $1,000 and thats just for utilizing the ER everything else they do costs extra as every fucking thing they due is itemized and comes with a hefty price tag. $22 for a fucking 800mg Aspirin?! I mean its fucked up as a patient you get charged just for occupying a semi private room for $1,200 – $1,500 a day like some Wealthy Elite 5 Star resort in fucking Dubai. Well Back to the Story.

I checked in, and was escorted promptly to an Examination room. A couple of minutes later the Office’s Physician’s Assistant (or PA for short) who is one rung lower on the Medical Ladder than an actual Doctor came in. I explained what was going on and based on what I said He decided the best course of action was to run a Cardiac Work Up which is standard practice for anyone presenting with the medical definition of Chest Pain. To Me Pain fucking Hurts, so a what I deemed a minor respiratory issue doesn’t constitute Chest Pain, but in the World of Medicine it does so fuck me.

There 3 parts to a Cardiac Work-Up the first being a EKG to monitor your hearts current behavior, a Cardiac Blood Panel, and a Series of Chest X-Rays which they did. Now based on the Combined Test results this imbecile of a PA diagnosis me with fucking Anxiety, Gives me a fistful of asinine Ativan, and told me to look into seeing a Shrink.

What He should have done was send me immediately directly to the closest ER for Admittance, in spite of preforming the correct Tests He made a gross and grave misdiagnosis.

Case in point, I saw that ignorant Idiot on a Wednesday, and on the Morning of the following Monday I was being admitted to the Hospital via the ER as Doctors/Nurses scrambled to treat me as I was in danger of going into massive cardiac arrest followed most likely by death even though at that point I was surrounded by The Hospital’s assorted Medical Staff.

Since My Recovery I have contacted the 2 Agencies of the American Medical Association has in place to handle complaints by investigating the Patient’s claims. Doctors hate these 2 Agencies because they actually fear the fuck out of them. Thats because BOTH AGENCIES can level hefty fines, suspend the Doctor’s Medical license, and Even Revoke The Doctor’s License thus ending their career. I called and filed a complaint with BOTH Agencies. I have not yet decided wether or not to pursue a Medical Malpractice Law Suit, BUT I did find out the Statute of Limitation in which I have to file a  Suit if I so wish.

Thats All. Thanks For Reading,

Les Sober