Welcome to my other blog. I started this one shortly after graduating from the C.I.A, to differentiate between my food and my other thoughts. It's a cozy little place with frequent weird but real, honest thoughts.

There's really not much more to say here, as anything mildly interesting is either down below or written in my Armadillo section above.
Hope you can relate to some of my thoughts and situations, even if they tend to be strange sometimes

Wednesday, March 2, 2016

NF: No news is good news 2.0 Or Why waiting six years to make an appointment is a huge waste of time

I hate Doctors. You'll say that everyone says that; but I really hate them. I tolerate my G.P because we've had him for decades. But I loathe neurologists to such a degree there isn't a non-curse strong enough to express my hate.

Last time I saw a neurologist was sometime 6 years ago judging by this post.  It did not go well, long story short. I hate her so much that I still burn, to this day, whenever I think about her. I'd write her a note telling her so, but I should get my records from her before ripping her to shreds.

THIS time I waited ages, because I had no problems since then (or before that, or ever really) and lacked actual "insurance". But since 1) we had good insurance, 2) I'm 30 3) NF is progressive for Christ's Sake and 4) I hadn't had an appointment since the aforementioned 6 years ago. So why not be proactive about my disorder and, I don't know, check up on it once in a while?

I don't think this guy actually "believes" I have NF. He wanted to know when and how and where I was diagnosed. So I'm going to have to go through the long being-an-adult-process of obtaining records from my pediatric neurologist where this fun and exciting journey began. Which means getting on the phone and trying to get records that are at least 20 years old.

 It began badly (of course): He asked why I was here and I told him the basics: "I have NF, I'm 30 and I haven't seen a neurologist in 6 years." figuring a doctor, any doctor would get the idea of checking on an incurable, progressive, untamed disorder. NOPE. "MS?" he said "No. NF. Neurofibromatosois" I said, waiting for the lights to turn on. All while mentally grabbing my purse and leaving right then. Fantastic. Well, that's fair: I couldn't even begin to say his very Greek last name.

I really don't even know why I bothered with this. It was a total waste of my time. Why do these people look at me like I'm Miss Crazy Pants when I want to check in with a neurologist when that was my bi-annual life for a good ten years. This thing doesn't "go away". Okay, fair enough, I haven't noticed anything new, but snaps for being proactive?

Needless to say, I'm probably never going to bother again. I'm pretty sure those are all the neurologists in this area with my insurance so unless my pediatric neurologist is willing to see a 30 year old, I'm kinda done. I am too old for this shit.

NF: No news is good news. Until the ticking time bomb explodes.