You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘health system’ category.

Oh my gosh, I have been absent for far too long from my beloved blog. My absence has not been due to laziness, lack of interest on my part, being in a pissed off mood at the blogging community or a churlish attitude in general.  Here is the true unvarnished, un-spun, authentic deal ~ I have been ill, very ill, for a very long time.  For over two years now.  I have shared about my Unwanted and Un-invited Bastard Buddy Vertigo (BBV) who swooped in for an extended visit and decided not to depart, right?  Well, nine months ago a new uninvited health hazard Bastard arrived on my doorstep and the BBV invited him into my home and my body.

All of this is to say, that I have been fighting, literally, for my ability to remain in my physical self on this Earth plane.  However, when I finally hit the lowest of my low a couple of months ago, I chose to re-claim my healing and to stop looking outward to supposed “experts” such as Western medicine and naturopaths, etc., who were not helping, to say the very least.  I also made the decision to place the focus of my energies on my spiritual practices and return to my creative writing and visual art, both of which spark my will to live and make the most meaning in my life.  Throughout this entire journey, I have continued to work and provide psychotherapy services to adolescent youth and their families.

I have missed my little blog.  I have missed being a part of the blogging community and the connections I have made here.  I maintain a Facebook account using my legal name, however, due to the nature of my professional life, am not comfortable co-mingling the two worlds.  What I am hoping is that now that I have taken this step of writing a post today that I will be more active once again with my little blog.  Most likely not daily but more frequently than once every quarter.

I am thrilled to report that my creative writing is on fire and there is much movement in that area.  There is goodness in this world and even though my faith and spirits come and go and I am a fickle creature, I do believe that my struggles are not in vain.  Sending out love, compassionate caring and peaceful energy in these early morning hours this Saturday morning.

Advertisements

with each other.  You dirty dirt bags.  Medical doctors!  Jeeesh!  Make up your ever loving supposed to be brainiac minds.  already.

Unfair, you say?  Sobeit.  I respond.

Surgery.  No surgery.  This medication.  No.  That medication.

Meanwhile, my Bastard Buddy Vertigo is still living up in my house.  Sleeping in my bed.  Forcing me to sleep sitting up.  Going on 19 months now.  I hate his guts!

All hands on deck. 

Both hands on the wheel at the 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock positions. 

Houston, we I have am the situation. 

Multiple choice.  Correct answer ~ all of the above.

In between my last post and last night, life has offered up a couple of opportunities ~ thick and juicy ones, as a matter of fact ~ to help grow my resiliency and encourage my practice of regulating my emotions.

That long sentence really means that it’s been a week, my friend ~ it’s been a week.

A week that I am glad and just a little (or more) proud for utilizing coping strategies that work when I put them into motion.

The majority of my emotional dysregulation (I love this term ~ it makes me smile) sprang from news from my health insurance provider’s announcement that my numerous medical appointments, tests, adjustments and procedures are not going to be covered, at all, due to a clause regarding pre-existing conditions. I won’t go into the whole ugly disempowering quagmire as I fear that might send me back to a tearful rageful place. I will say that I was able to put the situation into a more tolerable perspective within an hour of the event and carry on with my day. What’s more, I haven’t let it wreck my entire week. It’s definitely a low grade worrier and energy sapper and yet that feels so much better than totally giving into the doom gloom despair hatred and bitterness.

I am taking the steps to enter an appeal even though the insurance rep told me to do so was “futile.” Because after all futile is just a word ~ no greater in meaning than “hope.”

The purple hair comes into play as a product if you will of my medical condition, which causes unbearable vertigo when I lie down. And since my hair doesn’t naturally grow shades of purple and black, I go into a colorist to work her magic every 4-6 weeks. Since I cannot lie down to have my hair shampoo’ed, the Color Artiste Extradordinaire slaps color on my hair, wraps strands in foil and then straps a plastic shower cap like thing on my head and sends me on my way to wash out the excess dye in the standing up privacy of my own shower.

Sounds semi-simple enough, right?
Well, throw in the fact that the temps have been well below 0 Farenheit for some time now in this Corner of the Frozen Winter Earth and one can see that some anxiousness might begin to creep in when faced with opening the inside door to go to the outside world. OMG! My head might actually freeze. For realz.

It didn’t.
Thank goodness.

But I did end up ripping out chunks of hair trying to remove the foils that the Color Artiste thoughtfully made travel ready, meaning extra tightly folded so none would be lost in transport. Can you say Ouch! and Ouch, again! I did, my friend, I did. Along with a few other words that I won’t mention here. But a word is just a word, right?

I am relieved that I made it through my work week intact. I am grate-full that the Universe and all of my Guardian Helpers were there helping me along my path and I am appreciative of myself that I accepted the proffered assistance. All in all an okay week made even livelier by sporting bright new shiny purple hair.

Today I return to the White Coated One’s offices for the second day of testing. There will be two new tests and one repeat procedure. The one that made me puke, scream, cry, moan and panic.

Lovely.
Not.

If the cure is near and does really occur ~ well now that would be a whole different dance of ecstasy.

If you identify with the title of this post, please go F*CK yourself. No. If you identify with the title of this post, go F*CK yourself, without the please.

Oh my Gawd! The White Coated One (as in medical doctor) turned out to be the epitome of the title of this post. To be even more precise or to flesh out the visual more fully, I will add old. Old, and not in the good way of older and wiser or mature or seasoned with age. Just yucky old. Old with a scraggly ponytail, old. Old, with big beefy hairy hands old.

Yuck.
And yuck, again.

This White Lecherous Oriental Lover (WLOL) White Coated One, proudly told me that his wife was “an Oriental,” who like me was “an Oriental adoptee.” And guess what else? Lo and behold, his “Oriental wife” is two years older than me. Hallelujah. And strike up the band!

The White Coated WLOL shared all of this scintillating information after learning from my medical history that I am a Korean adoptee. When I said that I identify as Korean American or Asian, WLOL proudly reported that “my wife knows she’s a [sic] Oriental and she doesn’t mind being called one.” Well butter my bread on both sides, I was sure glad to get that 411.

As a woman of color and more specifically as an international adoptee, I have heard many a racist, backward, uneducated, biased, stereotyped remark in my day. Some of these oldies but never goodies have been directed at me and sometimes as descriptors or comments about others.

My outward response varies. Depending on the situation, time, place, previous relationship with speaker as well as the social and/or professional context. Oh, and then there’s always the factor of my overall mood in the moment ~ zen like or prickly or somewhere inbetween.

Sometimes I address the remark directly. Sometimes I attempt to provide social education. Sometimes I react before I think, attempting to construct a new orifice for the speaker. Sometimes I do not react or comment. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I exit the room.

What is consistent is the internal reaction that instantly occurs ~ the injury to my spirit or as some have described, as one of a hundred thousand small paper cuts.

Then, I get to dress the wound and go about figuring out, again and again, how to flourish in a world where ignorance thrives.

Ignorance and lechery. Never a good combination.

Have you heard of the White Coat syndrome? The kind of coat medical doctors wear? And the kind of fear and anxiety that patients sometimes feel and exhibit in the presence of the White Coat wearers? Well I can’t say that I have exactly that kind of fear and anxiety. But my levels of fear and anxiety come close to qualifying as a syndrome.

I am scheduled for an initial visit with a White Coated One later today. A specialist in dizziness and balance.

I am actually scheduled to see him tomorrow as I am writing this post tonight, the night before the scheduled initial visit but am scheduling this post to appear on my little blog tomorrow.

I do this kind of thing of late. Writing my posts ahead of time and scheduling them to post themselves another day. Just in case I am unable to make it to my computer due to my vertigo condition. The condition that is precipitating my dreaded scheduled initial visit with the White Coated One.

Posting regularly on my little blog helps me feel like I am doing well. Like I am capable of keeping my commitments made, if only to myself ~ the commitment still means a lot; to me.

So here’s to the White Coated One being able to help me move forward toward full health.

Across
and
between
the should’s in my conscious
that point their sharpened brightly painted nailed fingers
at me,
almost in my face,
demanding that I be grateful
responsible
and by all means,
view my cup as half full and overflowing.
overflowing with plenty.
No matter
that I just received
and opened
a crap load of bills
and medical insurance information
stating that I get to pay
boat loads of monthly fees and payments
for the enviable benefit of insurance for my health.
But that my vertigo, my ailment,
my little bastard of a friend,
has been visiting so long he’s now
a pre-existing condition.
Damn me for taking myself into
the emergency room. finally.
30 days ago.
Bitching.
That’s what this is.
This. this. this.
freaking frustrating world
in which I live.
In which I am lucky
to live.
A feeling I
should
feel
or
at the very least,
be able to fake.
But right now, folks,
I got
nada.

@junemoon 2011

November 2017
M T W T F S S
« Apr    
 12345
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
27282930  

Archives

a