I finally got my referral. I had to jump through hoops to get it, but I got it.
I had to get up early this morning to call a client, so I figured I’d also call my health insurance company for a list of rheumatologists at Yale. I called them expecting like five, and the representative I spoke to pulled up about thirty rheumatologists. She gave me three names and numbers, and I immediately called my doctor’s office to have them send the referral. I asked if there was a way they could figure out who I could see the soonest and fax everything to them, but Ruth, the receptionist I spoke to, said they could only fax it over and tell them to get me in as soon as possible. I said that was fine, did a quick eenie-meanie-minie-mo, and gave her one of the rheumatologists.
Ruth called me back a short time later to tell me that that particular rheumatologist only does rounds at Yale, and that she has a private practice in Guilford. She said that she could still fax my records over if I wanted. Since I have no idea where Guilford is and don’t want to travel that far, I said no. Ruth said that a lot of the doctors at Yale only do rounds, and that I’d have to research and find out which ones actually practiced there.
“Got ya,” I said. She started to wrap up the conversation. I sighed and took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s my situation. I got some blood work done and Dr. Mongelluzzo thought it might be Lupus, so he wanted me to see Dr. Cooper. Because I’d seen another doctor at her office a year ago, her office wouldn’t let me see her and said I’d have to have your office verify. If there is any way — if it would be easier than me trying to track down another rheumatologist — if there is any way you could get me in to see Dr. Cooper, because I really don’t want to wait. I’m having a flareup and all kinds of symptoms, and I really don’t want to wait much longer. I need to see someone as soon as possible. So if there is any way you could get me in to see Dr. Cooper…”
“I understand. I’ll call right now,” Ruth said.
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” I said.
“I’ll call you right back,” Ruth said, and we hung up.
Finally, I thought.
She called me back about thirty minutes later, and said that Dr. Cooper’s office wouldn’t budge. “I found a rheumatologist at Yale though, and I’m sending your referral over now.” She gave me the doctor’s name, address, and phone number.
“Thank you so much,” I said, and really meant it. I’m pissed that Dr. Cooper’s office gave her a hard time, especially when they had told me I needed to have my doctor’s office verify, but as long as I’m going to see someone who is not Dr. Memet, I guess I don’t care at this point. It is absolute bullshit, though. I was going to call my health insurance company and lodge a complaint this afternoon, but I forgot. Come Monday, though, I think I will. They cannot tell me that I have to see a specific doctor. I have every right to see the doctor that I want to see. Fuck that.
I’m glad that I pushed a little harder with Ruth this morning, though. She was nice, but she’s like all receptionists: busy. I’m glad that I stood up for myself, and even more glad that she was understanding and helped me out.
In the meantime, the Great Flareup of November-December 2010 continues. The rash on my chin is definitely bigger. I’m bone tired, even though I got about eight hours of sleep. All of my joints have been aching all day, and my neck and left shoulder/elbow are sore as hell. Sometimes the aching stops, but it’s pretty much been an all day thing. I’ve also been having a hard time going to the bathroom again. It pretty much takes all day for the coffee to kick in. Well, except today; I got a horrible stomach ache this morning, ran into the bathroom, and spent about a half hour with near-diarrhea
Don’t you just love hearing about my sicky woes, and my lack of filter? I bet my new rheumatologist will love it, too.
Anyway, I had a dentist appointment early this afternoon, and when I got home, I laid down. I basically cat-napped. It wasn’t too refreshing. I woke up when someone ran up the stairs to our apartment on the third floor, banged on the door, and then went back down the stairs a few seconds later. Thanks, mystery person. When I finally gave up and got out of bed, my neck was sore. I had a cigarette, ate some cereal, and then laid back down to read… but I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I’m just drained. It took me about fifteen minutes to get myself out of bed. I would have just gone to bed for the night, but I had to get Mike up for nine so he could go to work.
I want to try to do some outlining and character work for the rewrite I’m doing of my first novel, The Praying Mantis Experiment, and maybe some writing, too, but I’m not sure how long I’ll last. I was supposed to go out tonight, too, but I didn’t. I don’t have money to go out anyway, but I also feel too shitty to go out. I’d just be a fun suck, sitting while I sip water and yawn, rubbing my shoulder and neck and knees and back.
Plus, you never know if I’ll have to run to the bathroom again. My gastrointestinal system is so fucked up lately, I never know what it’s going to do. Staying home is a lot safer.
This is totally my theme song right now: “I Survive” by Lacuna Coil
