There is a lot in my head right now. So much that I might start crying with overwhelm... yep, here it comes.
On Friday I had my 6 month monitor/follow up with my neurologist. She went over the MRI that was done the end of last year, one year after the others. This MRI was done to check pituitary and because she wanted one done at her facility that has a better machine and that has a neuro-radiologist (or something like that) to review the results. It's a good thing we did it there and I am learning, once again, just how accurate that whole "practice of medicine" cliche is. The pituitary tumor that was diagnosed by the previous two MRI's/radiologists is actually not a tumor at all, rather it is an enlarged pituitary.
That makes the third misdiagnosis in 2 years. I suppose it is not surprising that it was an IHC facility that misdiagnosed yet again. At least this misdiagnosis was not a dangerous under-diagnosis ...yet I'd still be willing to forgive IHC and their providers if they would do anything at all to make amends for their mistakes, but my experience has only been that they would rather increase and perpetuate harm and then discriminate against me in everyway they can. -Have I mentioned that I applied for a job at the local hospital? It was a job working as a tutor/academic support person for sick, injured, hospitalized, etc., kids. It is a job that I am highly qualified for and they would be lucky to have me, but alas, not even an interview. They simply sent me a letter saying "thanks, but no-thanks we don't want you." It hurt. And broke my heart. Considering my qualifications and availability, I suspect it is my record with them and maybe how many times I mention them on this here blog that hurt my chances. I also was given the same sort of reply for even volunteering with the Primary Children's guy I met at the Brain Injury Alliance that was initially very excited about my offer. Both are IHC facilities, the very dominate medical provider here, and once again, it hurts my heart as my potential continues to be disregarded and wasted.
Which brings me back to my appointment with my neurologist. "You are right, you are discriminated against... and you are not given the same opportunities," says Dr. Neurologist (I think I have referred to her as Dr. Sweetie before). She understands my hurt and frustration. She is sad and disappointed for me because she thinks I am doing "amazing." She is so impressed with how well I am doing considering my "conditions"that she reminds me includes two TBI's and the bipolar issues. -It is both funny and sad how the word bipolar is so rarely said and when it is, it is said with such extreme caution it's as if the word itself might catch fire and burn the person saying it at any moment. We are all very leery of using that word and it is the condition that I admit to very least because it seems to carry the most heavy prejudices and misconceptions... but I don't really know if that is accurate or if I, myself, am a bit prejudice since I really don't like the category people will lump me into and the very inaccurate and unfair assumptions they will make about me.-
Now lets rewind a bit further: I had to share with Dr. Sweetie the story of the last few months because it has effected my brain functioning. I had only gotten to the part where the professor sent me his accusing text when she exclaimed, "That is the last thing you needed," and expressed concern because I was so "young" in my recoveries from both the TBI and the malpractice.
"Oh, wait, it gets better," I tell her.
She is not all that shocked because, as I led with, she knows the realities of the stigmas and discriminations her patients face, but she is sad concerned for me.
She verifies and validates the PTSD response; she almost expected it. "Oh yes," she said, "considering what you have been through," referring to events associated with the Institute owned by my other lead in. She was also concerned, just as I and my son had been, that this trigger and the events that followed could have triggered worse and/or led to a complete collapse of my stability.
She asks some specific questions about how I am handling and functioning as her empathetic concern mixes with a sort of giddy-impressed-excitement and an extreme sense of pride. It is a pride that she insists I should have too. She is extremely proud of how I am and how I have been handling and functioning through all of this. "You recognize and you adapt," she praises. "It's a lot to keep straight and to manage." She repeats a few questions and exclamations. She is particularly proud of me for being able to manage the legal side of things. She is so glad and relieved that I my brain has not collapsed under the stress and pressure of it. She compares me to "all" of her other patients and once again I am an anomaly and an outlier. She wishes others were doing so well. I sense a bit of discouragement that they can't seem to accomplish and reach the levels I have especially considering the three strikes I have against me in addition the continuing series of unfortunate events.
I am sure she was not meaning to put pressure on me but it is clear from our conversation that she really wishes I would have gotten into graduate school and she hopes I find some way to accomplish that. She feels eye-narrowing, teeth-gritting, face-flushing annoyance with the professors claim to the police officer that I was not likely to pass his class. She sees no reason for that and I pick up on her refrain from expressing the extent of her anger.
... Now I have a tendency to downplay and sometimes I am too self-deprecating in my attempts to appease others and accept responsibility for any mistakes I may have made. I did this to some degree with that bias professor. It is a mistake I need to stop making because people will, far too often, jump right on that, glad to use it against you and/or to use you as the scapegoat for ALL the mistakes made regardless of who actually made them. So I am trying to be better about focusing on my strengths and the praises I receive but I will admit it can make me feel a bit shy. So when I say her praises were high, know that they were HIGH. In fact so high, I felt a bit like a superhero... a confession that should scare anyone who follows this blog, but I will reassure you, it was not the manic superhero experience, this was the figurative, normal-person-pride kind of feeling. In mania, you don't just feel like a superhero, you pretty much are. Anyway, I digress. I did feel proud and I was very glad to have my strengths and successes acknowledged. I also felt a bitter-sweet pride because I understand what Dr. Sweetie was saying about her other patients, what they experience, and their very common struggles. I teared up as she explained this, because I get it. I told her this and admitted that sometimes I want to give in to those struggles...and sometimes I do. Sometimes I have to.
But... I have something in me, she says, and she is right. I tell her that I am an anomaly because I don't want to be... which, in-hind-sight, I realize does not sound the way I mean and I'll explain to you the same way I explained to Dr. Sweetie. When I say "I don't want to be an anomaly," what I mean is that I want to help others have similar success in handling, adjusting, coping, and healing. I want to help bring people with similar "disabilities"/"conditions" to my level (or higher) so that I am no longer an anomaly. I want to help others be anomalies in positive ways too, and to the degree that my successes no longer make me such an anomaly.
... and I could easily forgive IHC of all the wrongs they have done to me for this very reason. I would rather help others then fight them. I don't want to fight them at all...
and my head is so full of all these stupid problems to work out and work through that I want to give up on and I want to ignore but that I cannot because, alone as I am in this battle, I am not just fighting for me.
Maybe I should change the name of this blog to "areyouananomaly2" so that manipulated police officers and other ignorant, arrogant, and bias people won't use the title of it against me.
regardless...
High ho, high ho, its off to work I go
and I live to fight another day as I fight to live a better day.
This is the way.
Good Day.
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