Frustration is one of the key components of chronic illness.  We are frustrated because we are tired and in pain. We are frustrated with doctors who don’t help. We are frustrated that our friends and family don’t understand.  And we are frustrated with the red tape of our health insurance.

The past few months, I haven’t been posting here due to many frustrating factors.  I’ve already explained in my last post about the business and financial issues that took precedence and I touched on the fact that my many (and increasing) owies had made posting weekly on each of my blogs a hardship.  However, this post is about how frustrating chronic illness can be from the stand point of getting anything DONE about it.

So it’s bad enough to have to feel varying degrees of pain all over your body that NEVER goes away, but to have that pain and fatigue get tangled up in the red tape of health insurance is maddening and has used up the remaining few brain cells that hadn’t already run away from home.

It’s taken me months (and three changes to my primary care physician) to be assigned someone who I believe might help.  GPs are just about useless.  I’ve seen many of them in the 35+ yrs I’ve had these symptoms and NOT ONE of them has come close to making a dent in the symptom list. In fact, it grows daily.  Last week, I woke up to pain in my biceps.  Have I been lifting tall buildings in a single dream? A few weeks before that it was my elbows.  You know, the part in between the pointy sticky out bone part and the inside less pointy and sticky out part.  Just to gently touch it sends my pain level to defcon 1.

What was my point?  Until I remember what it was, let me also point out how bad the brain fog is getting lately.  I spent literally 3-5 minutes trying to remember my last name one day. In my defense, I’ve only been married 29 yrs!  The other day I was telling my son (you know, old what’s his name) about my niece.  Her name escaped me at the time and it left no forwarding address.  I said Heather, but I knew that was wrong.  To my credit, her name does begin with the letter H.  Or is it Q?

Oh yes, my point was that all of my GPs had either determined that I was making a mountain out of a pain hill or they had no idea know idea how to help me.  However, they didn’t seem to have any idea who might have any idea so…blah blah blah, rinse and repeat.

So not too long ago (that’s code for I can’t remember if it was a month ago or an hour ago), I was told by my OBGYN that she knew of an Internal Medicine doctor who specializes in chronic illness and female issues (that’s a euphemism for Peri Menopause) who just might be in network if the planets aligned.  Turns out she IS! But before you get too comfortable clapping (should you remember where you keep your hands to do so), let me explain that her first appointment was two months out.

Well, she was willing to make an exception because she had a cancellation and could get me in (not for the new patient appointment, but for pain relief consultation) to see her two weeks out.  I took it.  And I had to postpone it because, as the date approached, my dh informed me that it was the same date as the three day workshop I was to attend for one of our businesses.  Now the frustration shifted from health to finances.  Finances won out.  So the date got pushed out even farther, but by that time it was three weeks closer anyway so…Po-tay-toe/Po-tah-toe.

Meanwhile, back at the hormonal ranch, I’m currently waiting for my pre op appointment to determine if I’m comfortable with the idea of having my left ovary removed.  You see, there is a small solid cyst that has taken up residence on it with delusions of grandeur.  I’ve been told that it is the kind of cyst that has the ability to transform itself into cancer.  Since my ovary is currently (yet figuratively) twiddling it’s thumbs, it’s expendable.

I have more to share about the frustration factor of chronic illness that has plagued me the past few months, but brain fog prevents me from remembering what it is.  Let’s stick a pin in that one for next time, shall we?  

What’s your frustration factor story?  Do tell!