It seems this year has been a daily aggravation. If it isn’t my back, is my knees or my elbows or such things I cannot describe and be understood.
Called the clinic for an evaluation of the symptoms and was told the nurse practitioner was not available for the next three weeks. I figured, better to wait the three weeks than to see if we can find a doctor somewhere else. A doctor? What is that? I haven’t been seen by a doctor in many years, as everything has been transferred to young people who don’t have time to even look at you while you’re describing your maladies, but spend the time allotted to the appointment looking into their laptop and writing stuff.
As I’m describing my maladies, the young woman kept writing and letting me know I had already been seen the previous 4 weeks for the same problem. I tried and let her know the problem had not gone away; in fact, it’s worse. The medication I was prescribed during the initial consult made me so groggy I could not perform my household duties as I was walking in a fog. I was curious, so I went to the computer and asked for the symptoms following the ingestion of those pills and found out they do cause drowsiness. I immediately threw them away and began to feel like my old self again, pain and all.
After several minutes of looking into the laptop she ordered x rays; called the pharmacy for another prescription for more pills and was sent home. OK, so now what? Do I get to see the x-rays? Do I get to find out what is wrong? Do I need to come back later? Are they waiting for me to die so I won't cause any more problems, like taking time out of their day? It is so frustrating, as they are all like robots who don’t listen to you, but write on their laptops to satisfy their immediate supervisors.
It boils down to this: I was unaware of the difficulties encountered in old age. Now, I don’t consider myself old, but my birth certificate is falling apart, so I can imagine this is it. The end of the road, the beginning of forgetfulness, repeating sentences over and over again to people who think I’ve lost it; of looking into the address book and seeing so many of my friends with their names crossed out as they have departed this earth before me; of dialing phone numbers I have entrusted to memory and now I find them disconnected; of remembering someone’s birthday and not have an address to send a card; of looking to make a lunch date and not having anyone to call; but, here I am, still with a head full of hair, with my teeth still in place, the ability to write things down (otherwise I would forget them) and the willingness to volunteer whenever needed.
There must be a reason I’m still here, and I’m willing to discover it. In the meantime, I will put up with the robots at the clinic and try to be comfortable with my ailing body.
Remember to plan for old age; it will come, and it will take you unaware.
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