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Thanks for visiting my diary. I've been journaling since 1984 and have chosen to share some of my entries online. They are not all positive thoughts, but I hope that reading them might be a blessing to someone who needs encouragement.
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I don't even want to write this, but I'm going to because most of it is about going to the doctor. I'm really tempted to just turn this thing off and sleep until I feel better, at least emotionally better, but I think I'd go crazy if I isolated myself that way. I'm already feeling isolated enough as it is. Just feeling like the more I talk the more people in general will get tired of hearing it. That's old tapes, I think. Old tapes that still happen in reality. "Ok, we already know. You don't have to keep talking about it." Mom and sister both say that one to me. Anyway, on to the rest of the note.
I'm not used to towns that work the way this one works. I don't understand this whole healthcare mess anyway. If you're sick you need a doctor. Ok, I should have gone two weeks ago. I thought I was getting better. Well, now I'm having a relapse or something new on top of what I already had. Where I lived until last April, you just made an appointment and went. There were two doctors whotook Medicaid, and that's just how it was. Well, here there are more doctors to choose from, but they want to send you a form that you mail back and then you get to make your appointment, and it's probably booked up two weeks ahead.
I wanted to not just get something to stop the bronchitis. I wanted something for my asthma. Stopping the bronchitis is like putting a Band-Aid on it. I know this because I've lived that way--back in 1995. I was ok as long as I lived in the same climate. I guess I built up some immunity to allergies I had to pollens there. Now I'm in a new climate, and this is already the third time I have had bronchitis in six months. The problem is not the bronchitis. The problem is the asthma and my immune system. But according to Mom, I'mself-diagnosing and I need to let the doctors do what they think is best. But what they think is best according to the average patient doesn't work on me, and I know this because I live with myself and have been through this average patient thing my entire life, and I cannot afford to stay sick now. Why did I wait this long? Probably because I feared what is happening today.
What it comes down to is that my only option is the walk-in clinic. I don't really trust those, but it's the only thing available to me. It's open till 9:00 PM, which is awesome for Mom because I can wait until she gets off work. Except doing that makes me feel powerless and just adds to how I already feel about neglecting myself. I need to just jump in a cab and spend the money to get myself up there. Not because it makes healing any faster. What difference does a few hours make? But because it's what I would do if Mom wasn't here, and yes, a big part of this has to do withfeeling like I have control over when I go to the doctor and whatever else I do.
Mom hates the idea of me taking the cab, and she'd hate it even more if she knew I have to get money out of the ATM. I could get taken advantage of, you know, because I can't see what the driver is doing. But that's life when you're blind, and I need to stop letting myself be dependent on her. It just takes a tremendous amount of emotional strength to override the norm, the norm being that I wait to do any of my running around until it is convenient for one of my parents or some other family member in town to drive me. In the past I've coped with this by just not doing any running around. Yes, that's why I haven't gone to the doctor. I can't do this any more. I'm either going to have to change and put out the emotional effort to do something that's going to upset my mom or I'll pay the consequences--and I doubt that emotional stress is a good thing to stick on top of this bronchitis.
Well, I thought I was just going to gripe. I didn't know I was going to stir up a little motivation to do something about it. I need a doctor who's going to take five minutes and listen to me. Oh, and some nice staff person to help with paperwork would be nice. I'm actually going to go through with this: to get myselfout of bed, look like I didn't just come from there, and jump in the cab and go to the clinic.
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