Whining

By Darcy Thiel

A week and a half ago I hit my elbow. I remember that I did it and yelled  because it was ridiculously painful. I can’t recall where I did it or how; I just remember the incident. I was surprised that over the next few days I couldn’t use my arm in certain ways (like pulling the garbage can) without it hurting. Then it got better. Then I attempted yard work. I was using the long-handled cutters to trim bush branches, and suddenly there was searing pain from my elbow to my wrist.

Excellent reason not to do yard work anymore. So I got that going for me, which is nice.

It seemed like a silly thing to call the doctor for, but I bit the bullet. Now, my doctor rocks. I love her to pieces. The nurses are also pretty cool for the most part. But the staff in general is a royal pain. I complain quite often, and my doctor seems as frustrated with them as I am.

First thing is to set up my appointment. My usual doc is booked up so I am seeing the other one. I don’t mind that at all. He is pretty cool, too. I really wanted though to ask some questions about whether coming in to my primary was the best step. I ask who the on-duty nurses are today.

That did it. The nonsense started. It’s a straight question that requires a simple answer with the names of the nurses. The staff is not confidential, the patients are supposed to be. The receptionist is completely flustered and does everything possible to evade the answer. Bizarre. Then I just ask to speak to the nurse I am quite close to. More craziness and finally a blurted out, “She’s not accepting calls today.” Ridiculous.

“Can you please leave a message for her to call me.”

When I came in later, she tells me she is sorry but that the staff was protecting her because she was slammed with work. I get it, and I listened politely. I just said, “So and so is here today. She is extremely busy so if you don’t get a call right away, please be patient.” Would that have been so hard to say? Instead, he (the receptionist) acted as if I had asked an extraordinarily inappropriate question.

What I didn’t say (but wanted to) is that this is MY medical team. I pay for your services. Therefore, I help pay for your salary. Isn’t the medical field supposed to be protective of the patient? Sounded exactly like what I went through at my late husband’s hospital with the patient advocate. He did not advocate for Tim at all. Clearly, his job was to keep us quiet so the doctors were less stressed. Maddening.

Anyhow, turns out I have tennis elbow. Now if you know me, you will find that hilarious because I am utterly and morally opposed to exercise. Tennis elbow is usually a chronic condition over a long period of time due to repetitive movements such as swinging a racquet or golf club. I, however, have an acute case. I smashed it, then re-injured it. There is blood in the bursis (where bursitis comes from) so the doctor couldn’t give me a shot because he didn’t want to put a needle in all that blood. Ice 3-4 times a day. Elbow brace 24 hours a day except for showering, for six weeks. And he really, really wants me to baby it, coddle it, hardly move it.

Again, if you know me, you will be rolling your eyes. By nature, I am already a massive baby. You will never hear me making fun of men who are sick. I am the absolute worst.

It’s my left arm and I’m right-handed. Didn’t think it would matter much, but it has turned out to be like anything in life that you take for granted. You don’t realize how much you use something until you can’t use it anymore. The biggest culprits are:

Driving a car (because you close the door and get your seatbelt with your left hand)

Flushing the toilet (because the handle is on the left side and it is a power flush and requires force to get it to work)

Unbuttoning my jeans to go to the bathroom (buttoning is no problem for some reason. Unbuttoning makes me squeal.)

Unsnapping my bra. (Ok, smart ass. For those of you that know me well, YES! I have actually been wearing a bra!) Seriously, putting it on is no issue but taking it off is awful.

So I have been whining and complaining and babying myself, and it has all been sanctioned by my doctor, so it’s OK. Aren’t you glad you don’t live with me?