Getting down with the sickness
I spent several hours in the emergency room today-- one of my favorite pastimes, for sure.
I don't have a real doctor, nor do I have any insurance to speak of. Back in Connecticut, there was a walk-in medical clinic on every corner; that was my health plan, and it worked. Here in Maine, though? It's the emergency room.
A while ago, I tried to find myself a good old-fashioned primary care physician. You know, what they used to call a "General Practitioner" back in the olden times. Before medicine went all corporate and everybody turned specialist. I remember going through the phone book and making calls. There were two basic responses to my inquiry:
That was just discouraging. I'm happy things are so booming that you can just turn down people who want to give you money in exchange for services. I gave up and just hoped my good-health mojo would continue.
Inevitably, demons infested my sinuses on Friday or so, and I needed a good exorcist.
Dayquil Sinus bought me a few fleeting moments of relief over the next few days, but I knew I'd have to do something drastic sooner or later.
Even my teeth hurt. WebMD said SINUSITIS. Frontal and Maxillary.
Fast forward to Central Maine Medical Center (where, to be fair, I was acknowledged, processed and treated quickly).
The doctor-- and not even a doctor, but merely a physician's assistant-- looked in my ears and down my throat, and listened to my lungs, front and back.
Diagnosis: just seasonal allergies.
Now, I have had seasonal allergies since I was 11 years old. I know the drill. Sinus stuff is not part of my seasonal allergy experience. They are entirely different animals.
I come from a long line of stubborn, doctor-fearing cowards. If I'm considering medical attention, I can assure you I AM FRIGGIN SICK.
So I ended up with a prescription for Flonase (generic version: $70.59) and two packets of bacitracin for the fiery inflammation on my ceptum. She recommended ibuprofin for the blinding pain in my forehead and cheekbones.
I stood outside the ER doors, waiting for my ride, and crying bitterly into a tissue.
I just want to feel better.
I don't have a real doctor, nor do I have any insurance to speak of. Back in Connecticut, there was a walk-in medical clinic on every corner; that was my health plan, and it worked. Here in Maine, though? It's the emergency room.
A while ago, I tried to find myself a good old-fashioned primary care physician. You know, what they used to call a "General Practitioner" back in the olden times. Before medicine went all corporate and everybody turned specialist. I remember going through the phone book and making calls. There were two basic responses to my inquiry:
- "We are not accepting new patients at this time."
- Some variation on my lack of HMO/insurance being an insurmountable hurdle
That was just discouraging. I'm happy things are so booming that you can just turn down people who want to give you money in exchange for services. I gave up and just hoped my good-health mojo would continue.
Inevitably, demons infested my sinuses on Friday or so, and I needed a good exorcist.
Dayquil Sinus bought me a few fleeting moments of relief over the next few days, but I knew I'd have to do something drastic sooner or later.
Even my teeth hurt. WebMD said SINUSITIS. Frontal and Maxillary.
Fast forward to Central Maine Medical Center (where, to be fair, I was acknowledged, processed and treated quickly).
The doctor-- and not even a doctor, but merely a physician's assistant-- looked in my ears and down my throat, and listened to my lungs, front and back.
Diagnosis: just seasonal allergies.
Now, I have had seasonal allergies since I was 11 years old. I know the drill. Sinus stuff is not part of my seasonal allergy experience. They are entirely different animals.
I come from a long line of stubborn, doctor-fearing cowards. If I'm considering medical attention, I can assure you I AM FRIGGIN SICK.
So I ended up with a prescription for Flonase (generic version: $70.59) and two packets of bacitracin for the fiery inflammation on my ceptum. She recommended ibuprofin for the blinding pain in my forehead and cheekbones.
I stood outside the ER doors, waiting for my ride, and crying bitterly into a tissue.
I just want to feel better.
I am not defending the PA by any means and I am not trying to be a smart ass, but what were your expectations when you went in there? Did you expect antibiotics? Or was it that you wanted more effective pain medication?
Your school does not have a health services department?
I wish you lived closer so I could fix this for you. I hate not being able to help heal my sick friends.
I hope you feel better soon.
My comment disappeared!
Anyway, I just think she didn't really listen to me. I know this is NOT just allergies, and I told her so. I'm scared it'll get worse and I'll end up with a brain infection or something.
My school does have health services, but only on the Portland campus (40 minutes away). I'm without a car these days, so that wasn't happening.
Thanks Misha. No offense to the medical profession. :)
I don't think she listened either. But I also don't think she explained her plan of care to you. It was shitty all around.
Personally, I think you should have gone home with better pain meds.