Most of these are black and white pictures that belonged to Mamama & Dadada. Many are from the 1940s, but there are some before and after that time period.
I still need to update the captions, tags, and order of the pictures, but I figured that I should go ahead and publish this.
Well, I never mentioned how the rheumatologist appointment went. I guess that’s because it happened almost exactly as I a predicted. It was bad. How bad was it? It was so bad that I wish I could time travel to the past and let Rodney Dangerfield use it as material for some of his “How bad was it?/It was so bad” jokes.
Everything was fine until the doctor came in. He half-listened to my complaint, said that anhidrosis isn’t a symptom of anything he treats, and told me that all that he ever saw me for was “loose joints” and pain. I told him that the family doctor said she thought my “loose joints” and lack of sweat were related. He said no. I said she thought he should treat it because he treats connective tissue disease. He went into a long rambling session about how my family doctor meant that he treats autoimmune diseases and that “loose joints” aren’t really a connective tissue disease because they don’t involve the immune system. He said that “loose joints” are a collagen issue and that they only cause problems in the joints themselves. I tried correcting him on his ignorance, but when I did, he repeated his rambling.
My mom asked if it could be from the Sjögren’s/UCTD. He said it was possible, but that those were connective tissue diseases & I didn’t have connective tissue diseases. She mentioned Mamama had Sjögren’s and he said it was possible that I inherited it from her. That “Sjögren’s is genetic” part of his ramblings was almost verbatim from the ramblings he made that time seven years ago when I tested “positive” for the antibodies related to Sjögren’s. He looked in my mouth and said it was dry. He asked about my eyes & I told him that the ophthalmologist had done the paper test years ago. He asked about the results and I practically rolled by sore, dry eyes at him as I told him that they’d been dry. He said he would test me again for Sjögren’s and that if it was positive he might consider putting me on Pilocarpine.
He then said something about Pilocarpine costing $95/month and insurance never covers it. You know, so I wouldn’t expect a prescription for it. The funny thing is that I knew he was bullshitting on that part. You see, I had been given a prescription for a medication called Salagen given to me by the UAB doctors a few months ago. They’d noticed my mouth dried out too much for me to talk. Salagen is the brand name of Pilocarpine. It costs $1.20 for 120 pills; 120 pills is a monthly supply.
I left the appointment feeling like the air had been sucked out of my lungs. By the end of the appointment, I didn’t know whether I was pissed at him or myself. The longer he rambled, the more I felt myself retreating into the “doesn’t speak up for herself” zone. I started feeling incompetent. I started feeling like maybe I was the one who was uninformed.
But my family and my therapist wouldn’t stand for that thinking.
I’m not the one who:
- Doesn’t understand that connective tissue disease is an umbrella term for many kinds of diseases.1
- Doesn’t understand that many autoimmune and non-autoimmune diseases can cause sweating to cease.
- Doesn’t keep adequate patient records.
- Doesn’t listen to the patient or their family.
- Failed to prepare or educate myself before the appointment.
I’m not the incompetent one. He is.
My mom said I need a new rheumatologist. When I told Debbie about the appointment & about the phone calls, she said I need a new rheumatologist. Guess what I discovered in my search got rheumatologists who take my insurance?! I’m pretty much stuck with a doctor who doesn’t know what the hell he is doing.
I hate the phrase “fuck my life” but it almost seems appropriate here.
Joint Hypermobility Syndrome & Ehlers-Danlos are connective tissue diseases. ↩