I am so tired of fighting.
All the time.
My Grandfather told me many years ago that I was “difficult to work with.” He said it with love. I don’t remember the exact context. I do remember it was said with a smile.
And he was undoubtedly right about that, like so many other things.
I had a boss a few years back that told me, “If you continue to hold everyone to the same standards you hold yourself to, you will always be disappointed.” Strong words, but also not inaccurate.
I am a lot to take.
I am intense almost all the time. I have a mouth full of words that last long past the attention span of anyone I strike up a conversation with.
I am passionate about things I believe in.
I make lots and lots of mistakes. But, I truly do my best all the time.
So I just sometimes struggle to understand why it seems everything I touch or encounter is a battle.
I spend hours upon hours sorting through medical claims. I look up who paid what, and when. I call on bills that need to be refiled. I take names on post-it notes with dates and times, in case things don’t get rectified.
I file out of network claims, and then I watch them processed in error. I make three phone calls to try to sort out the change in policy, which was simply just a mistake no one will own. I take names again. I am told to wait 6 more weeks for hundreds of dollars owed to me to be reprocessed. It’s only a little about the money. It’s mostly about the notebook, and the folder with the copies of the claims, and the alarm in my phone to remind me when I need to follow up on the call again.
I send medication to the mail order pharmacy because we have no choice. And then I wait for them to screw it up. That sounds negative, but it’s simply accurate. They have an entire notebook in my world to help manage the 9 mail away prescriptions between us. There is a perpetual box on my ‘to do’ list which tells me to check on the progress of any refill.
I make appointments. The list has 20 specialists between us. They vary from twice a week to once a year. A psychologist once told me not to let the appointments interfere with “preferred activities.” So there is a matrix with the impossible task as the ultimate goal. Except none of the 20 doctors know about the other 19. Or the full time job. Or the high school honor student’s schedule. Or swim practice. Or theater. Or voice lessons. Nor do they care. And I get it. They can not hear everyone’s story. So when I call to try to carefully place that appointment in a very tiny window of time, they are always unhappy with me. They think I’m being unreasonable. And maybe I am. But, I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t TRY to get everything to keep her physically healthy and still let her be a teen.
I deal with unexpected schedule changes. Like when I carefully stack 2 appointments in one day, and then one has to move to right smack in the middle of a week long summer internship that was planned forever ago, because now instead of two doctors with Friday hours at the same facility, one has Monday and one has Friday. No overlap. So I erase, and juggle. Except I’m not great at juggling in a literal sense, so one got cancelled and hasn’t been rescheduled. Actually two… because summer can not be ALL about doctors. Nor can every day off. But, neither can every day at work or school…
“What do you mean you’re not going to reschedule today?”
So much of our condition relies on screening. Early detection is a blessing. It is the key. It is also tedious and time consuming. It is possible to be grateful and overwhelmed simultaneously.
So much of this is case management. And, when last I checked my master’s degree is in education, not medicine. But, with no one to coordinate care I have to guess a whole lot. I have to decide if 9 months will be ok instead of 6. I have to decide when to push the doctor for more lab tests when the fatigue won’t quit and the thyroid is ok but the spleen…eh, no one is quite sure about the spleen…
And there are doctor’s whose pride won’t let them return a call because I haven’t seen them recently enough.
There is the genetics appointment lingering again. Because maybe Cowden’s wasn’t the WHOLE answer…
And the “normal people stuff” like the seemingly never-ending root canals because my stress is played out in the jaw clenching that overtakes the episodes of sleep. That is on the occasions everything is calm enough for me to make it to my bed.
Or the foot injury. The “rare” lisfranc ligament partial tear. Close to 6 months later. Not a soul wants to hear me tell the story again. No one wants to believe that it still hurts badly enough that I haven’t take a real walk since last fall. I’m not lazy. I’m horrified by the state of my body in the absence of real physical activity. I am trying to be patient. My patience is running out alongside my sanity.
And the IEP. Oh, the Individualized Education Plan… and the meetings. Over and over and over again… Meghan is on the waiting list for a service dog. She has PTSD and generalized anxiety disorder. The dog is coming. The process is wearing me out.
I am a lot to take.
I am often “difficult to work with.”
I hold myself and others to a high standard.
I am intense most of the time.
I am tired.
I am so very tired of fighting all the time.
There is no choice though. No choice at all.
So, in the mean time I will be here. Strengthening my resolve. I may bend, but I will not break. I will continue to strive to show my girl that she can have a rare and currently incurable disease, while excelling at school, at sports, being active in the community, and being a generally decent human.
Last month we walked out of a screening appointment. It was not critical. It was an hour behind. We rescheduled. Also a valuable lesson.
I am tired of fighting, but I am far from done.
As my Grandfather said, I am “difficult to work with.”
I am also loved. I am flawed. I am also forgiven.
When I have no more, I put my hands together and ask… and I am never disappointed.
Through God’s Grace alone we remain…
4 thoughts on “Difficult To Work With”
Without getting past this entire post….i already relate and see many traits same as my daughter who not only has cowdens and deals with all that comes but also type 1 diabetes and the technical devices also rare clotting disorder and RA She also has that tough exterior as protection. Luckily We can help now with all we do with billing etc. But next year she turns 26 and we have to see what options out there for insurance. I know you probably hate when you tell of your struggles (and your girl) and someone interjects there life stories and experiences but here we do relate and do have more battles sad to say but do look up to you and pray for miracles.Until then stay strong keep fighting someone must. Sent from my Verizon, Samsung Galaxy smartphone
….besides everything we unfortunately share with my daughter i wonder about the teeth having to do with cowdens she never had issues until recently every tooth becoming cavity
My Dad, daughter and I all have Cowdens. The teeth have been an issue for us too. My Dad and I both have decay issues with our teeth and it’s really frustrating. My daughter hasn’t shown signs yet…but it’s something I worry about.
I understand and feel the same way. I’ve gotten the color coded notebook to track all of these things and I now have 5 neurologists. I’m finding I am now mentally rebelling in stupid ways, not wanting to take medications. I’m on 40-50 pills a day. It’s too much. But I have to remember some perspective. Something has kicked off, and I have to go get my axial lymph nodes biopsied. Fortunately my breast surgeon is overseeing this, so I feel like I am in good hands. When these things happen, I see a lot of really ill people and I have to remind myself I’m not quite that far gone yet. A bit fatalistic or gallows humor, but true. I am also intense and am finding it difficult to maintain employment. No one else in my family has this disorder – I’m the last of 14 kids so I definitely got the short end. My mom died before I was diagnosed. She would have been 1/2 fascinated and 1/2 horrified that this is what I had inherited. My husband and I chose not to have kids so we don’t pass this down to an innocent child.