So, in my short life--just turned sixteen, yay for me etc. etc.--I have had my fair share of sucks. Admittedly, the law of averages was bound to catch up with me due to having had Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis since February of 2004 or so, and a year or so old quasi-diagnosis of Fibromyalgia (my mom has it and I experience a lot of similar symptoms) that led to me being taken out of school halfway through the year. I also take Enbrel for my JRA, which is an immuno-suppressant, though now that it's in remission I'm looking to slowly wean off of it. Suffice to say that I have had a LOT of doctor visits.
My former Rheumatologist was pretty nice...after I told him bluntly during the first visit that it was me with the problem, not my mom. His...head nurse? Doctor-in-training? I have no clue what she was, but one of four visits we saw her in place of the doctor.
It was fine while the bloodwork showed something was wrong. But once the then-unknown fibro came along with no signs of anything on the oh-so-sacred bloodwork, this lady, Sharon, brushed me off. It eventually got to where I wouldn't say anything on visits aside from "Yeah, I'm fine."
She had a big problem with me not being in gym and instead being a library worker one year; "You shouldn't get special treatment like that, and you should be in gym!!" I was utterly perplexed as A- it was NONE OF HER BUSINESS, and B- I did get some special treatment in order to be in there (they switched my schedule around) but in that hour there was a cheerleader with me. An able-bodied, perfectly healthy cheerleader who just didn't want to be in gym!
As I recall, there were other incidents like this that I can't remember. We got fed up eventually and switched from that hospital, Ocshner, to another that I can't quite remember the name of.
Edit: They also failed to give us an aide for Enbrel that my current Rheumatologist gave us the first visit. :/ I think it did something with the co-pay? Not huge, and not really something we NEEDED desperately...but it would have certainly helped. It was just one more little, unimportant thing that added up over the five+ years we used them...added up to a bitter dislike of Oshcner. I never see their logo/commercials without sticking my tongue out at it. Silly, but therapeutic! (-/cool story bro-, I know. Like I said; TANGENTS!)
The second suck was what is almost certainly the trigger for my Fibro. In order to better understand how much this hurt, let me explain a bit; I had a very high pain tolerance. High enough that daily life with eroded joints was, oh, a two at most. I mean, I gave myself shots from fourth grade onward twice weekly. I've been known to read a book while having blood drawn, even! So, you could say that it takes Really Bad Pain to get me to the point that I was at.
It started with a restlessness that just wouldn't go away. I moved from my room to out into the den with my laptop in order to relieve it. Instead, the pain went from uncomfortable to JESUS CHRIST THIS HURTS very rapidly. I was sobbing, unable to move--my brother, no more than a few feet away (though on a computer with a patterned top-half glass wall between us) later said he figured I was just laughing; he didn't even consider that I'd be crying like that. My parents came out and immediately carried/assisted me to the car, where I impatiently waited for the arrival at the emergency room. Coincidentally, this was also an Ocshner hospital (we were still with the previously mentioned doctor at the time)! Once inside, I was put in a wheelchair. I literally could not keep still because it hurt that badly. I'm a little fuzzy on some details, but I do remember that once in the room, I was given some sort of dye to help with x-rays, I believe, and I vomited. This, I knew, was a VERY bad sign. You see, I have this bizarre quirk where I instinctively swallow bile back. So, despite frequent nasuea, I only vomit if I am very, very sick--a condition that means it's only happened maybe three or four times in my entire life.
Basically, the doctor told me that it was just a regular cyst and was nothing to worry about. I got pain meds and then was wheeled out because I still could not walk from the pain.
I spent a week or so in bed, eating jello, crackers, and sipping water. When I had to use the bathroom, I had to shuffle hunched over like an old woman. Yes, even with major pain pills (think Oxycontin-level of highly restricted, put-you-in-la-la-land type stuff), I was unable to walk normally or stand up straight.
After no improvement, it was decided that I was to go to a different hospital. Women's, for those who're interested. We got in, and everything went smoothly...minus my mom being barred access because she had to park the car, and I was an unaccompanied minor at the time.
Long story short, it was realized that, no, it wasn't a normal cyst. It was a dermoid cyst. These WONDERFUL little fuckers, thanks to a certain type of cell (the kind fetuses are made of I believe), can grow things such as hair, teeth, and fatty deposits! (PS- look pictures at your own risk.) Mine was HUGE; the size of a baby's head or a grapefruit. Something like
So, although I spent days in unnecessary pain, felt brushed off, and lost an ovary, in the long run I got an absolutely wonderful OBGYN who actually snuck me onto her list. I still have a small-ish scar from the surgery that had to be done, which is really my only momento. Oh, and we got pictures at one point. It was pretty nasty! We're still absolutely baffled at the incompetence of the other doctors, though. We considered suing them, but by the time we realized that my ovary could have been saved, I think it was too late.
Edit: I'm going to talk with my dad about maybe pursuing something, even if it's just making sure Oschner knows they fucked up. :| (I'm talking to him because he frequently deals with courts/legal stuff as a risk manager, in case you were wondering.) By the way, this happened in October of 2008; I remember because the librarian sent me a care package with candy, pencils, and a few books. <3
The rest of my sucks are minor, especially compared to the other two.
We got a landline for emergency reasons. Soon enough, we realized that our number was the same as Le Baron Brother's Drywall. So, three to four times a day, we would get calls for them. New clients mostly, but then...well, we realized they weren't exactly the most honest guys. 'Cause banks and people who had rented stuff to them called looking for money and their equipment.
We put it with it for a while, my mom put up a pissed-off sounding (and hilarious) voice message that pretty much insinuated that anyone who called about anything not relating to our family would be reamed and torn a new one.
We gave up after a while and just got a new number, though--and I hope that those guys get found and slapped with fines or something. :| Seriously, what a dick move!
We went to Lonestar for lunch and, well...I'll let my parent's comments sum it up:
Mom: Saw a movie and had lunch at LoneStar today. The service was terrible. The server brought me water instead of Sierra Mist, brought [lemmunz] salmon instead of shrimp, forgot [Dad]'s fries, and after 10 minutes of waiting to get my meal, I told him to keep it. Of course they didn't charge us for my meal (that I never got) and they comped [lemmunz]'s. I don't think I will be returning to LoneStar anytime soon.
Dad: [Mom], as usual, is being kind and is downplaying it. I've worked for 20 year...s in the restaurant industry and feel qualified to say the restaurant did poorly. Mistakes in service will happen and it is a mark of a good name to rectify those errors. A good restaurant can actually create more loyal guests by not being perfect but by correcting the problems that happen.
We didn't get that.
When I will decline steaks and alcohol, you've really screwed up.
It was pretty bad, and that restaurant also had ceilings that we suspected had mold/mildew on them. There was also a related squabble on Facebook. I don't even know if this lady worked at Lonestar or not, but she and a family friend went off on each other, the lady talking about how servers don't always have the best days and there should be sympathy for them, and a family friend who pretty much...well, I can't put any other way--it was like baiting a troll.
Edit: I remembered one more.
I go to a chiropractor because my posture is terrible, and I get intense pain along my spine if I don't get adjusted. I /do/ try to correct myself when I notice I'm sitting wrong, but I tend to get pretty distracted. She's wonderful, except that she gets a little too involved with things that really aren't her business. For example, last time we went she asked my mom why we weren't doing the exercise thing we had been doing /after/ I explained that we have a kitten recovering from pneumonia, she's working on a paper for her masters, AND she's got three students she tutoring. So, no, we're not going right now. Not that it's really your business. :/
Edit: And another three! Doubtless I'll remember even more.
I KNEW I had another reason to be bitter at Ochser. Anyway, we went to a small clinic owned by them for a quick appointment. Everything's fine, cool, good...aaaaaaand then the nurse pricks herself with a needle. The needle that she had just used to give me a vaccine, in fact! So, we sit and wait a while (and were given cookies and soda 'cause we hadn't ate yet) and then asked to drive to another branch (we had to do blood there anyway), or wait until they would be able to do it. The suck comes in in that we weren't told this wasn't mandatory, and that what should have been an hour or so at most turned into a six to eight hour trip. ><; Thankfully, I tend to bring three to five things with me anywhere I go...or at least a book. :D
My mom says that it was partially her fault that she didn't speak up (In her own words, she'd tell them to bite her if it happened now), but we didn't know it wasn't mandatory to confirm no blood-transferable diseases or anything.
Another Ocshner-related one around autumn 2005. My old Rheumatologist recommended an ENT in the same building he was in, because I had been having pretty frequent tonsillitis and sinus infections. As soon as we got there, we were told that our insurance (Medicaid) wasn't accepted. My mom was surprised, and told the receptionist that we were referred by the doctor (she had thought that since my doctor took it she would too, since she was in the same building). After going in the back, we were told that she'd see us. She very obviously didn't want to see us, though. She took one took at my throat, then snapped that I was fine, and we left.
Later, we went to another ENT and after one look...were told that my tonsils needed to come out. Surprise!
Thankfully, I've had no more sinus infections or tonsillitis since. My voice was much higher afterwords, and that's the only lasting part from it. I did have to miss the fifth grade Christmas party-thing for the surgery, though. (At least I stopped by and got some stuff...)
Okay, this is another big one. For my first, second, and third grade years, I went to a private school called St. Luke's Episcopal. I absolutely LOVED it there, even moreso when I got special treatment for two years after fainting in church once when I hadn't had a good breakfast. Now, they had told me I couldn't read Harry Potter in first grade because it was above my reading level (???). But I had a steady supply from a public library so that was fine, albeit a little bit of a stain in my eyes.
Another stain was that I was just barely unable to qualify for the gifted program, and god forbid you didn't fit into normal otherwise. If you were behind, you were dragged along; if you were ahead, you were forced to stop and wait. Once, I finished an entire sheet of problems when we were supposed to be doing them together. The teacher made me sit and twiddle my thumbs while everyone else caught up.
Anyway, in February of 2004, I was diagnosed with JRA. I was scared, confused, and missing school--enough that I still have problems with multiplication tables (I can do them, I just never memorized them all). That's not the suck, though. Before I get to that, I'll point something out; only in public school are accommodations for disabilities required. In public schools, it's totally up to the teachers to decide how much they want to do.
My homeroom and English teacher decided not to do anything. So, I had taught myself to read at the age of four and consistently had been advanced in ELA...and I was getting Cs. Why, you ask? Well, you see, despite having clearly and painfully inflamed wrists/fingers, I was told that I had to write the comprehension questions out myself.
No, I could not simply have someone else write/record the answers; that would be doing things HELPFULLY.
I also remember being in the office in a wheelchair with my mom. At some point she left the room, and I was told she had left. I went, "Uh, I wanted to say goodbye???" and eventually burst into tears. (Separation anxiety--I used to run to the end of our little sidewalk when she left and wave after her as she left home..)
Later, I found out she was IN THE NEXT ROOM, and the principal told her not to come and just say goodbye, which would have made everything FINE. I think it was some BS about growing up and taking responsibility. :|
After so much trouble, I still somehow managed to remain fairly bitter about having to leave the school that next year, due to financial issues as well as the general dickery of school. I think it was due to the friends, the classes available, and so many little things that made it such a good school for the most part--well, in the first two and a half years.
So, TLDR: Lots of stuff happened, mostly medical-related.