So, … The Medical Meat Market

I am not quite sure why I let things get to this point.  Stubborn pride maybe or just some sense of duty.  You show up and don’t complain.  No one wants to hear me whine.  But I do and then I feel guilty for not being able to control my emotions.  I am twisted by my mind and irrational thoughts.  Everything hurts.

I have been powering through the pain.  Going to different doctors to find the cause.  I have a menagerie.  Being pushed into taking meds that may or may not be right for me.  Always the easy answer.  Pop that pill.  But without a firm diagnosis beyond osteoporosis, spinal stenosis and some arthritis, I am hesitant to experiment with drugs.

Can you blame me?  Google is my handicap.  I see so much conflicting info that scares the crap out of me.

Big pharma conspiracies aside, my natural inclination is to be med free.  Sometimes things are meant to be.  Why go looking for answers to every single thing?  Maybe I am meant to break a hip one day?  Maybe that would happen with or without the Forteo?  Maybe I just watch and wait?  Maybe if everything all goes to hell, then hell is where I am supposed to be?

Lately my thoughts are maybe I should just let God’s will reign supreme.

And now I have lost 1/2 of you.

But I remember the parable that I will paraphrase.  Man is at the end of his rope asking God where were you when I needed you?  God replies he sent all these different helpful beings along the way and the man ignored them.  He did not see them as lifelines because they did not match his preconceived image of God.  What if Dr. K. and/or Missy Thing his PA are being sent to me by God?

There goes another 1/4 of you.

What if my fear does not allow me to trust them and I miss the opportunity to be healed?

Riddled with so many questions, I hit the wall.  That coupled with loss of a childhood friend and the strains of life, I decided to take the next few days off work.  Lord knows I have earned it.  I am sitting with 6 and 1/2 weeks leave time in the vacation bank.  Yep on the plus side of 260 hours.

Guys and gals this is the tip of the iceberg.  So much more lies beneath.  Thank you if you’ve made it this far.  Writing has a curative power like no other.  The hurt is out of my mind and body bleeding onto the page.

As always, more to come.