Dec. 28th, 2019

scrubjayspeaks: speech bubble reading: so we've got a deadline. we can DO deadlines. (deadline)
[Content warning: under the cut is doctor fuckery, mentions of fat shaming/diet talk, and chronic illness. Anyone who hasn't been following along with my medical drama of the last three almost four! years can safely skip this garbage update. Otherwise, come enjoy a rant, I guess?]

So because of various scheduling-related shenanigans, I had a follow-up appointment with my rheumatologist yesterday which was actually conducted by the nurse practitioner who deals with his other office*. Which is to say, she's never met me before and can't remember what she read in my chart as compared to what's in the charts of an unknown number of other patients she was seeing that day. And hey, I get it: being the substitute teacher is hard, yo.

But goddamn, she earned my ire all on her own.

snip-snerp )

This post is just chaos. I hate seeing doctors. Still have bronchitis, btw. Fuck.

*She is covering for the doctor in part because he is Older Than Dirt and wants to retire. Which is why, after this, my appointments with him are going to become exponentially more inconvenient as he cuts back on his office hours.

**Autoimmune disorders are a messy, incestuous bunch, so I understand the need to take that evidence with a grain of salt. I might be responding to treatment for lupus just because whatever I really have overlaps with lupus enough to get caught in the net of that medication. That's fine. Whatever.

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