So, after almost two months, I finally got to see my PCP today. (That's still "Primary Care Physician" and not the drug of old, folks.) My last appointment had to be canceled for some mysterious reason, and the next available date was a month after that. My PCP is a popular guy, and with good reason.
Y'see, my PCP is a doctor that cares. He sits, he listens, he explains, and then he takes the appropriate action.
For example, I've been having a little problem with my foot in a cast for so long. I am under the perpetual fear I'll get a cramp, and when there's even a little room inside the cast, my foot starts trying to work its way out of it. I can't get my foot out; that's the whole point. But tell that to my subconscious when I'm sitting at my computer, doing whatever it is I'm doing. That's a problem unto itself, as I'm supposed to be resting.
So I bring this up with my PCP, and state that while I may be on Xanax for my anxiety issues, that drug doesn't have the skeletal/muscular relaxation that can be found in Valium. If I were to be given a temporary prescription of Valium to address my restless foot, potential muscle cramps, and anxiety, I could kill multiple birds with one pill.
If I make a sound case with my doctor and he'll work with me. If I were to sit there and simply scream, "GIMME DRUGS!", I think he'd have me escorted out by security. He sat...He listened...He agreed with my layman's knowledge of the named drug...And he prescribed it to help me with my current issue. He also gave my oxycodone a 5 mg. boost because of increasing pain in my hips, which we hope to address in the near future. Finally, I'll be getting a referral to a neurologist.
Here's the thing...I have no idea what a neurologist can really do for me. I have a disease of the nervous system. It's degenerative. I'm already on the only drug that I KNOW works. But I'll go because that's what the special specialist wants me to do, and my PCP is in agreement.
Now if you missed my worried monologue some time ago, I had a white blood cell test done that brought about a fear that something horrible was happening inside my lungs. I mean, one glance at the pictures made it seem like the lower half of both lungs had lit up like stars on the blackest night, and that prompted Becky and I have to have a serious chat about what to do if I had any serious illness of the lungs. Fear is a terrible thing to live with, so I did my best to simply ignore it...but not so much as to forget to discuss it with my doctor.
Well, it turns out that it was NOT my lungs. It's my spleen and my liver, which are directly behind the lungs, and they're expected to light up like that because of the garbage they filter out. As for why my bladder was aglow, (what I've been jokingly calling "my uterus"), it wasn't bright enough to cause any concern. Just to be sure, he took a careful listen to my lungs, and they still sound remarkably clear for a guy smoking for 24 years. Go figure.
So for a guy in not-so-great health, I'm okay. I'm still facing several medical issues, but I AM facing them, and doing my best not to let them rule my life.
Be well, all, and DFTBA!