Unhealthy Behavior
Sometimes the universe conspires for good.
The planets align.
The stars shine brightly.
The Earth revolves around the sun while the moon revolves around the Earth.
All things line up just so and come together to accomplish a monumental task.
Recently, all things came together to give me a new blog topic.
The Monday morning after Easter combined me sobbing in a doctor’s office, not because I was scared, confused or in pain, but because two jerks were mean to me, with me watching something emotional on TV and reading one particular email that sparked a key understanding in my world. An understanding that I somehow missed in my 11 plus years of living with multiple sclerosis.
Here’s what went went down-
It was time for my minor surgical procedure. The one that the doctor said we needed to do “just in case” my abnormal body was being scary in it’s abnormality.
(To read more about abnormal me see my last blog post, Me, An Absolute Abnormality.)
Because of the word “surgical” meaning, anesthesia, I needed a ride. I highlighted the word “minor” in my mind and stayed focused on that. Then the office told me a I needed to be at the surgical center in the middle of the night, ie, 7 AM.
Since it was 30 mins away, that is the middle of the night to me. I had many caring folks who offered to give me a ride, including many friends who are never up that early. Back in the day, we would still be out partying at 7 AM and trying our best to get it together so we would look somewhat presentable for work. Thus, the middle of the night.
My life no longer finds me partying to all hours, but it certainly finds me sleeping to all hours. I didn’t want to get up and be anywhere that early and so I really didn’t want to make people in my life get up that early either, especially for something “minor.”
Plus, I had to fast. How could I get together with my friends that early without desperate caffeine meant to sober me up quickly? I just couldn’t do it.
My secondary insurance comes with a ride for medical procedures if needed. I decided to go with that option, which meant, my insurance would send a cab for me, nice and simple.
Until the cab showed up and it was driven by a rather unfriendly young gentleman. I have no idea what he was so unfriendly about? Afterall, he was allowed a coffee for the ride.
Had he just stopped partying and was trying to get himself together? If so, I could relate.
But no chatting was to be had which was fine with me. In the area he asked me where the place was. I had no idea as this was the first time I was told to be there and gave him the address.
“I HAVE the address,” he snapped. “None of the buildings are marked!”
He said it like it was my fault.
Still, it was 6:45. How could I expect him to be cheery when even the sun was barely awake? And it WAS the day after Easter. Maybe all the bunny brought him were some awful peeps and black jelly beans?
Did I mention it was also rainy and dreary?
At the center I called in as directed and was told to wait in my car due to covid; they would instruct me when to come in. Once again, cab driver snapped. “I can’t just sit here! I have other fares. Can’t you wait outside or something?”
The cold rain was more pleasant than the driver and so I called the office again, still from the cab so as to not get my phone wet, and told them I would be waiting on the bench somewhat covered by the overhang of the roof. Then the receptionist snapped, “you took a cab here???? We really don’t like patients to do that!”
This was information that would have been nice to know right around the time that they kept saying “minor” to me.
She continued, “I’m assuming you have someone at home who who can monitor you today and make sure you’re alright??? You need to have someone with you later, which is why, you’re not supposed to take a cab!”
Turtles.
I was surrounded by snapping turtles.
I replied, “I was not told that, I’m here and we were doing this thing. I’ll be waiting on the wet bench,” and then I jumped out of the cab so I could be done with mean turtle #1.
The office did let me inside the building, despite covid procedure. BUT, they made me wait in a locked alcove directly outside the bathrooms. Turtle 2 brought me paperwork to sign and one of the forms was to confirm I’d been given the patient bill of rights. I hadn’t and said so.
“Well, you should have!”
Snap, snap, and more snapping.
I waited as someone came by to use the restroom and looked uncomfortable seeing me sitting right outside of the men’s room door. I waited until he came back 10 minutes later, still disappointed to see me and clearly in some type of gastrointestinal distress.
I decide to circle the alcove and get my steps in so as to avoid embarrassment for us both. It was then that another male knocked on the door and asked me to let him in. I said I didn’t know if that was ok. He told me it was, he was a doctor. I let him. I looked at my watch and it was after 7:30. I called and got turtle 2 again. I asked what was taking so long and told her I’d let someone into the building, apparently earning my waiting time as a doorman.
“We don’t want you to do that!”
Snap!
“We need you to sit in your seat until the nurse gets you.”
Now I was mad but what could I do? I sat back down and waited for the poor gentlemen in the men’s room, trying to look casual as he finished up his lengthy business. Just as he did, a nice nurse called my name and took me back.
Maybe it was because she was so nice that I burst into tears!!!
I tried to explain why I was so upset, and she did the exact wrong thing; she tried to make me feel better.
“That’s ok.” “Everyone back here is nice.” “You don’t have to worry; this will be fine.”
I wasn’t worried. I was mad!!! Why did I have to deal with 2 people snapping away at me when I thought I was doing what was asked of me. The tears continued as I was was hooked up to anesthesia, fell asleep, and was woken up after the procedure and sent home, pain free.
Just before I got into a new cab with a different driver who didn’t snap at me once, I was handed discharge paperwork and the patient bill of rights, which read, “you need to have a driver who will WAIT for you and someone with you at home to make sure you don’t have a reaction to anesthesia.”
The timing of this information made me even madder. I got home, made some tea, curled up on the sofa, and stewed.
I wasn’t in pain. I wasn’t worried about the test results. But I was still angry.
When did this happen? When did something as silly as two jerks being mean to me get me so upset? It’s not the first time someone has been mean to me. Mean is a word I learned early. Like as early as age 4.
I distinctly remembering yelling at my big sister, “Laurie, you big meanie!”
To take my mind off my emotions, I put on the trial of Dereck Chauvin where I watched expert witnesses detail the proper police procedural holds, what is safe and appropriate and what is not. Not the best viewing for someone already upset and who had several other emotions careening in my brain and heart about the death of George Floyd.
The expert started talking about tactics used when someone is having a “behavioral episode.”
Huh.
I listened more as the same expert described ways to de-escalate someone in an emotional crisis. Was that it? Was my tantrum some sort of behavioral health crisis? Perhaps behavioral health crisis was a little extreme, but it did get me thinking.
When the trial took the morning recess, yes, it was now approximately 11 AM, a much better hour to call morning, I grabbed my laptop and checked my email. There, in my inbox, was a new blog by my friends Dan and Jennifer Digman, discussing Anger and MS.
Wow!
Timing.
I dived in and learned that my angry crying jag might be due to MS.
I had known this. I actually wrote a blog about it years ago that I had completely forgotten, Call Me Oscar.
Still, it was nice to have the reminder and the links to help me deal. Because, I know, there will always be snapping turtles in my life, even if I’m not hanging out by any lakes or ponds. But I have to better handle how they affect me.
What a relief, something I forgot I could blame on MS and I will.
After I blame the turtles….
