Physical-ly Sick

I had my yearly physical on Monday, about 6 months later than usual because of some insurance shuffling and coverage dropout periods.  (Long story.) This blog post is not one of my usual topics but is probably one of the most important things you will ever read in your life.
Or maybe that you will read today.
Okay, probably somewhere in between.

I'd like you to meet my new healthcare team:

I can tell you with the utmost conviction that YOU are now your sole, core healthcare record keeper.  Let's repeat that for emphasis:  YOU MUST KEEP TRACK OF EVERYTHING RELATED TO YOUR HEALTHCARE.  Get a nice, blank book and start writing down EVERYTHING.  The dates, locations, who ordered it and the results.   Xrays, blood tests, mammograms, colonoscopies - the whole 9 yards. Even though my physician has to write a referral for every miniscule THING, none of this comes back to them in the form of information or results. I spent a lot of time sitting in my elegant paper gown waiting for the PA to go find out the results of a colonoscopy I had in December and a hip x-ray I had 3 weeks ago. All done by physicians in the system I was referred to, all in the same hospital system, but never mind that.  Nadda. Next she had to pop out to see what the latest guidelines were for pap smears - apparently it's every 3 years now, so I didn't need to shave  my legs.  Crap.

My understanding of having a "primary care physician" was that there was someone out there who keeps track of all this stuff.  Apparently not.  Bonus - it's getting worse.  I wish I had known this even five years ago - I've had a slew of medical problems (mostly spinal - with specialists) and no one knows from nuthin'. It is appalling.  It is infuriating.  Mostly it is scary, because as I get older it's only going to get worse, right?  I'm not going to wake up someday and find my degenerative discs have miraculously healed and everything is hunky dory - yay!

I'll probably keep a digital spreadsheet of all this information,  but a blank book won't crash or get a virus. (Ironic.) I'm fully prepared to load a flash drive and take it with me to the doctor so the most accurate records are at my fingertips.  I'm also going to CHARGE THEM FOR THE INFORMATION because why the hell not - they would charge me for a copy of my records, right?

I left with lab slips for more blood work and a referral for a mammogram.  I hate getting my mam's 'grammed. I'm debating on even doing it because the results won't get back to them and they'll never know, right? I've got an attitude about those damn 'gramms - every time I have had a blip they refer me on to get an ultrasound. Here is an idea - screw mammograms and just have ultrasounds. They are painless, faster and easier.  (That is why there are no scrotum-grams, just sayin'.  Men would never put up with getting their dainties smashed up between two plexiglass plates, so why do we?) PS - Spare me the mammogram lecture, I'm an ovarian cancer survivor, I know the drill.

I'm good and angry.  I've got to look at changing primary care physicians, but I don't know if I can find one that can (or will) do the job I expect them to do.  I don't know if any of them do it anymore. I have a feeling it's on us to keep the record. I'm going to need a boatload of Big Chief Tablets to keep track of all this information, John-boy.

Just Following Procedure

For the n-teenth time I recently found myself with an IV in my hand, a blood pressure cuff on my arm, an oxygen monitor on my finger, and my bare ass in the air awaiting yet another "procedure."  I got to thinking about a few things (good drugs can do that), my long medical history, how healthcare delivery has changed, and just when did surgery become  merely a "procedure"?

I always thought a procedure was a series of things you did in a certain order to accomplish something.  (To make a cake you must assemble the ingredients, follow the recipe, bake the thing, and at the end of all that effort you have a cake.  FYI - If you do any of that out-of-order you will NOT get a cake.)  There are procedures flight attendants follow for take-off, there is a procedure for building a house, and there is a procedure for doing your income taxes.

I believe the insurance companies got together and decided if they stop calling it "surgery" and start calling it a "procedure" it wouldn't sound like a big deal and they could kick people out of the hospital on the same day - or if it involved amputation, maybe the next day. Better yet - don't even go to a hospital at all! Let's do it all in the doctor's office -  it's just a "procedure" after all!  For anything involving anesthesia....we'll invent a surgical suite thingy where doctors can see patients in one room and go across the hall to the surgical suite for the "procedures." Bonus - let's not call it "anesthesia"  anymore (because you'd need an anesthetist for THAT) - let's call it "sedation".

See how they did that?  Who says health insurance needs reforming?

I would like some reform.  A  little.  An effort? I don't deal with any kind of anesthesia well, although I have been told I am a whole lot of fun when I am coming out of it. This time around  I was waking up in the "surgical suite" when I heard someone knocking on the door.  My response?  "Penny? Penny? Penny? PENNYPENNYPENNYPENNY?"  I thought it was hysterical.  No one else did. Apparently they felt the fact that I was laughing like a hyena meant that I was well enough to be put in a car and driven home.  This is Joe's least favorite part of "procedures" - the nausea fueled race to get back to Gloucester before I throw up in the car. (Sorry, graphic content.) It's awesome. It keeps our romance alive, baby.

I have come to believe we will soon see mobile procedure trucks coming to our

[caption id="attachment_2476" align="alignright" width="268" caption="We Were Trained For This in Our Youth!"][/caption]

homes (like those dog groomers) where they  fix you up in the truck right there in the driveway.  After you are finished you can get your mail and walk up the sidewalk right back in to your house (with the entire neighborhood seeing your bare ass sticking out of a procedure gown.  (They won't be called "hospital gowns"  because.... there won't be any hospitals.)

In addition to the Big Bang Theory, we watch a lot of House Hunters (hey, it's good comic relief). There are a LOT of people out there who think they can't buy a house if the color of the rooms isn't to their liking. ( I am not making that up. )  Can you imagine what that show will be like in the year 2019 when people have to look for a house that can accommodate a growing family and all of their "procedures"?  "I like the space, but I just can't see myself getting a pap smear /  knee replacement / appendix removed in a room that needs so much updating - and the wall color (eyeroll) ewww!"