So, in the interest of avoiding clickbait, I’m not like immediately about to die; the guy gave me 30 years. It just sucks because that would put me dying at 65.
Anyway, I had a check-up with the PCP today. It had been on the calendar forever, so I had a list of topics that I’d been adding to periodically.
So, you know, my original big thing that I wanted to do was see if we could d/c the Lipitor. It’s not urgent, but it would have to happen before I can start thinking about having kids. Spoiler: we did not get to touch on that today. The second thing that was put on the list is that my work insurance absolutely will not cover medication that I need, which has had my physical health crashing and burning at a terrifying rate. I’ve done so many PAs, faxes, etc. Where things finally were left was that I had to see this specific doctor through them (not my regular doctor) and they were booking really far in advance. So I booked the appointment, and it was supposed to be this week actually, but a few days in advance they called to cancel the appointment and did not reschedule. At that point, I had been fighting them for five months, just to get them to let me continue the medication that I had been stable on since 2022. The most obnoxious part is that, even though I’d been stable on the medication for years and literally the only reason it was stopped was because my insurance changed and the new insurance wouldn’t cover it, they fought me on this for so long that they said that in their system I was going to be considered a “new patient” for the drug. When the drug literally never would have been stopped if my insurance hadn’t changed. It’s also like, I don’t have $8/week just for blood draws. If my life is too expensive to sustain, see my last post. We don’t even know if the old insurance will cover my meds now that I’ve been off of them. But what we do know is that the employer insurance covers nothing. I tried to be a good American and I failed.
Anyway, I brought up the topic of my physical health crashing and burning and that causing a whole bunch of increased chronic pain. Then you add in psychosomatic pain caused by PTSD, which is mainly just my chest and labored breathing but shows up in a few other ways. And I was just saying I’m in a lot of pain. So the PCP brings up a test they did not too long ago, and I guess the results were slightly off. Something about one of the valves? So the conversation was like,
Doctor: “It’s not really affecting anything now, but like in 30 years it will be a very serious problem.”
Me: “Wait, so I’m going to be dead in 30 years?”
Doctor: “Well, I don’t have a crystal ball.”
So, like okay. There are unforseen thing that can happen, which would have shown up in a crystal ball. But as far as the labs currently are showing, I have 30 years to live. So obviously that’s a huge problem if I wanted to have kids. It’s also like, I’ve been alive 35 years and most of it has been awful. So what’s the point of living out the next 30 if I’m just going to die prematurely and I can’t do the things that I want to do? I mean, I could write a book in 30 years but we’ve already been over how I can’t get EMDR so I probably won’t be able to process trauma enough to do that.
So, I mean, that sucked. Now, I had posted yesterday on Reddit regarding the chest pain:
(Note: the “therapist” in the Reddit is a simplified version of the story; the idea above is actually a synthesis of things that I’ve been told by various providers, taking RTI/”response to intervention” into consideration. So, providers who were able to actually help have all had certain ideas in common, and this is one of them. It’s entirely possible that I’m a bad person for simplifying like this, and looking back, I wish I hadn’t. I think I just like to be able to exist in public forums and appear semi-normal or relateable.)
So, chest pain and somatic crap have been way worse. Some of it obviously is probably because of the anniversary of the incident with HBM in Worcester, because that definitely does still affect me every single day. Work is also a dumpster fire, money is a dumpster fire, and it would be easier to continue fighting the uphill battle to remain alive if I felt like I was loved, because it’s hard doing this just for myself. Anyway, I’ve been using the CPAP machine consistently for three years as well, but for the past week or two (ish?) I haven’t been able to use it, because my breathing is so messed up that it’s throwing things off. You’d think that the fact that I can’t breathe while awake would make the CPAP more attractive. But I guess the thing that helps while you’re asleep, is different from what helps when you’re awake and actively struggling to breathe due to what would probably be considered a panic attack if it weren’t my baseline. There are other issues, as well. I think I already feel pinned down, so having my face tied up causes flashbacks to be worse. One of my meds causes hypersalivation and the med that’s supposed to counteract that, hasn’t been working. I don’t have the mental, emotional, or physical energy to even clean the thing, let alone time in my day to do so. And PTSD stuff is bad enough right now that I can’t lie down until I’m basically about to pass out, so I don’t always have time to set up the CPAP once I hit that point. So anyway, I’m completely exhausted because I need the CPAP and I’m afraid they’re going to cut me off, because apparently they track your usage and you’re supposed to be using it for at least a certain number of hours a night. It’s cool, just another basic and critically-important thing that I’m failing at right now.
So, I mean. I just feel like the deck is stacked against me right now. I’m exhausted, I’m broke, the future seems hopeless, and I feel like humanity overall would prefer if I were dead. I’m tired of having to stand with my back to a wall or some sort of fixed object because otherwise I’m turning around every few seconds. I’m tired of scanning my area all the time, as though someone were going to jump out and assault me. I’m tired of people who think that my prefrontal cortex is the issue, so CBT will work and I can just think positive thoughts and be cured, as though I haven’t exhaustively explored that idea.
Anyway. I told my cat I would never leave him. He turns two at the end of the month. When he dies, I’ll probably just pull the plug on myself as well. For now, I’m here. I don’t know that it really is doing anything positive that I’m here, but I just am.
1 thought on “Bad News from the PCP”