Living with chronic pain is difficult enough. Then after 10 years, I finally find myself at the point that I'm barely able to function and one of my specialists who has stepped on my rheumatologist's toes in the past goes all mafia and sends me off to another specialist because it's perfectly clear that I don't have fibromyalgia. And he was right. Several months, several doctors, dozens of vials of blood, imaging tests, and it's finally confirmed I have an autoimmune disease. Except I was told it was Mixed Connective Tissue Disease, but my new rheumy is telling me it's inflammatorypolyarthropathy and polymyalgia rheumatica. One small problem with both of those: neither are treated with Plaquenil and Azathioprine. Oh, and PMR was ruled out during my 2nd visit. But it gets better. Three weeks later, I'm STILL waiting for test results to start the Azatioprine (the lab is backed up, the whole 4th of July thing, and well... my rheumy decided to go on vacation). And I learned that I'm part vampire. Again. Except it's worse. I really haven't been in the sun since last summer. And both times I was, I was burned. Like lobster red, blistered, living off of solarcaine burned. And that was with SPF 80 sunblock. This year, I haven't spent much time in the sun. When I have, I've worn long sleeves, or my exposure was limited to how long it took me to get from my car to the store and back. Until Friday. Five minutes in the sun, in a tank top, and it felt like someone was pouring acid on me. No sunburn, just thousands of tiny, itchy blisters that appeared when I ducked for cover in the shade. Not a good sign. But I have to wait until tomorrow or Monday to find out what the hell THAT was all about. The only medication I'm on that causes photosensitivity is Plaquenil, except a reaction that extreme is unheard of. PMR and a BS diagnosis code of "I don't know wtf you have" appears to be going out the window with that one. Did I mention I've been a bit bitchy this week? Probably because I seem to have a bullseye somewhere on me or a sign that I can't see, but others can and it's daring them all to piss me off.
I still haven't heard back from school as to why I'm on academic probation, when I have a 3.9 GPA, all of my paperwork regarding my disability is in, I've already been in contact with the head of Academic Affairs AND the Disabilities office.. but it seems that "high importance" means nothing. Which puts me in a bad spot. I'm determined to prove to that ignorant, prejudiced jackass that just because I have a chronic, sometimes debilitating illness does not mean that I am stupid and cannot complete my degree. It just means it might take me a bit longer. But if I somehow end up being kicked out of the university, it's going to be difficult to be accepted into another one. If I sue for discrimination (which I have an excellent case for), I'm faced with the same problem. Which pisses me off even more because I'm backed into a corner.
Then there's the IRS. My refund was withheld because my return was flagged for review--in MARCH. I was told I would either receive my money or a notice within 60 days. It's way past that now. Turns out they forgot to review my return and I have to wait another FORTY FIVE days. The bastards. (Did I mention it took me over 3 hours of being looped through their phone system, hung up on, passed from one wrong department to another, and being put on hold for 30 minutes to find this out?)
I won't even talk about 2 doctors and their medical bills, except to say when I found out how screwed up their systems are and told the woman EIGHT times I didn't need a copy of the ledger, she mailed it to me anyway... dumbass tree killer.
Then of course there's my car.. ah, poor Blue. And jackass mechanics. When I tell a mechanic he doesn't have to rush an estimate to fix my car, but I do need it fixed because it is causing my transmission to lock in 3rd gear as a safety precaution, that doesn't mean to take your sweet ass time. Tomorrow would be 6 days and no call. All he needs to do is make a call to find out how much the parts cost, add the labor in, and call me back.. we're talking 15 minutes here... So I'm going to another shop tomorrow. Talking to the guy today, I have some hope. If not, I'm screwed, because that leaves me with only 1 shop left in the entire area I haven't burned through. It's not that I expect mechanics to be the obsessive compulsive perfectionist mechanics I was, but at least try not to be the dumb fuck moronic rip off artist. Don't leave grease in my car. Don't steal things, don't break things, don't lie to me, and no matter how much of a pain my car is to fix, at least try to pretend you want to fix it when I'm talking to you on the phone or standing right there.. curse at her all you want when you're fixing her, but really?
Finally, there's Lennox. The Belfast City Council (as in Belfast, Ireland) decided a dog had to be murdered for no other reason than because he resembled a pit bull. Turns out, he wasn't. He was a labrador/bulldog mix. He was seized by illegal means, locked in a concrete cell, abused, and neglected for over 2 years while his family and people around the world tried to save his live (and while the city council accepted money for his license and registration which even said he was a bulldog) and murdered him overnight.
I can only hope people stop pissing me off and things start to improve. Especially since my pain is getting worse, so my temper is getting shorter. And I have at least 2 more mechanics to deal with. And another heatwave in the forecast.
No comments:
Post a Comment