C'mon! Sing along with me! DOOT doot doot....
This post is dedicated to all those folks out there laboring under the mistaken assumption that my Bratty Inner Child Julia has been locked up in a closet somewhere in my psyche, snoozing away in a completely dormant state...
Well, now. That would be an incorrect assessment of the state of affairs over here.
No, sad to say, she's just as, um....difficult....as ever. I just have chosen not to give her more attention than she deserves. Isn't that the best way to deal with poorly behaved children? Ignore the unwanted behaviors and praise the good?
No? It's not? Ah. That must be the reason that my kids turned out the way they did. Hm.
Anyway, BICJ has been on a roll lately. And today -- just for today -- she won a major battle. It went something like this:
Me: Ok. I see that I have an appointment with Dr. Young Guy next week. Gee. Wonder what kind of treat I should bring this time..
BICJ: What? ANOTHER doctor visit?
Me: Well, duh. He asked me to come back in a couple months from my last visit, I made the appointment, and bingo! Here we are.
BICJ: When do we hafta go?
Me: In a couple of days.
BICJ: What for? Are they going to make me stand on the scale? Will they send me over to the lab so the vampires over there can suck yet more blood for tests? Do I have to tell them how much I haven't been exercising?
Me: Hey -- When is the last time that you let them put you on a scale over in the Rheumatology department? You already have them bullied enough that they know not to even ASK anymore!
BICJ: Yeah. True.
I hate getting weighed. So I just don't. Dr. Young Guy's medical assistants know by now to just breeze by the scale on the way to the exam room. And for the newbies, when they stop and politely ask me to step up on the scale, BICJ just wrinkles her nose and announces that I'm going to skip that today, thank you very much. After which they dazedly trail along behind me and my armful of treats as I cruise into the exam room.
BICJ: Well, I've got news for us, girl. We are SO not going to the doctor next week.
Me: What nonsense. I am the model patient. If Dr. Young Guy wants me to be seen, I will just get ourselves over there on the correct day and on time.
BICJ: Yeah? Just make me. [Sticks out tongue].
Me: Sigh. Let's talk about this, shall we? You like Dr. Young Guy. Getting your labs drawn is really no big deal since we have great veins. So what's the real issue? What's going on?
BICJ: Well, we already know that yes, we're pooped most of the time and our lupus rash is back and because we're tapering prednisone everything aches. I just don't want to sit in his office and wah wah wah some more because then I have to think about how crummy we are feeling.
Me: But Dr. YG is there to help!
BICJ: Oh, c'mon. What's he going to do? We've been on every DMARD imaginable and I've been either allergic to it or it doesn't work. We know that rituximab therapy is a thing of the past for us. And it's important to try to get off this dumb stupid prednisone. Which means there's no magic bullet out there. We're stuck being the way we are indefinitely. I'm not ready to hear that. [Sticks fingers in ears and begins singing the 'Star Spangled Banner' loudly].
Me: But......but.....
BICJ: I can't hear you! [Switches to doot-doot-doo-ing the Mario Brothers theme song].
Me: You know...... you actually may have a point. Kind of. Let me think about that. That doesn't sound like a very fun appointment.
BICJ: [Suspiciously takes a finger out of one ear].
Me: How about this? What if we rescheduled the appointment until after Thanksgiving, hm? We can't no-show for an office visit, so I'll call Nancy and we'll just rearrange things. We'll go......we just won't go next week. We'll go later.
BICJ: [Removes finger from other ear and ceases trying to vocalize video game music]. What's the catch?
Me: None. As long as you promise that we'll show at the new appointment time, you win. If something comes up, of course we'll get ourselves in to see Dr. Young Guy earlier. Promise me?
BICJ: Woo hoo! Sure! Hey -- instead of going to the doctor, let's go over to Rose's deli and have a big old slab of carrot cake to celebrate! And then...... and then..... maybe we should wing by Krispy Kreme.... and....
Me: Pffft. Nice try.
Kids these days. Give 'em an inch and they take a mile. Tsk.
3 comments:
Amen, sister!!! Really, is it going to make any difference whether you go now or next month? Last week, I got sick and tired of taking my evening pills (nothing too important: statin, folic acid, prilosec), that I said to myself "Hey, I am so tired of taking pills, so I am NOT taking them tonight." It felt good. I had control over my own decisions and life, and wasn't a slave to the disease and all its who haws. Feeling like you have control over something now and then is a good feeling, right? xoxo
Oh, you made me laugh! Every single person who knows me well knows that I have an inner child and she acts (and sounds) a lot like your BICJ.
You made me laugh all the way down to my toes. THANK YOU!
My inner child was in serious nonconformist mode after my (our) brain MRI with contrast yesterday. Oh yes, it was my 7 year-old inner Kimberly with glasses and pigtails, replete with silent "I can't stand your whole guts for making me doing this" tears inside the MRI machine (which ran downwards to my ears and around the overwhelming yellow sponge ear stoppers). This followed by a stop at Walgreen's on the way back to work for Reese Cups and Coca-Cola and culminating into an entire evening of Hallmark Channel Christmas movies and a dinner of homemade banana nut bread and chocolate milk because it sucks and they can't do anything about the sucky autoimmunes who moved in uninvited!
Those who know me and love me say that my inner child is (at best)
"consponchuous" (her very own "made up" word and she loves it). Definition: Consponchuous: verb. nonconforming, impossible, stubborn, unique, one of kind. Example: No body is going to make her do anything that she doesn't want to do she is so consponchuous!
You are so blessed to have a good rheumatologist. I am still trying to break through my Dr's "reserved-don't ask questions" "bad patient for asking me what that means" bedside manner.
I just know that there is going to be a Christmas Hallmark Channel movie where a handsome rheumatologist moves in to town, opens shop, saves the girl and makes her feel better. He serves her marshmallows instead of DMARDS and is wise and doesn't say "It's definitely autoimmune sjogren's, but I don't know what the future holds. We will have to wait and see what else pops up in your blood work, on your body, in your joints"... blah-blah-blah-hum-bug!
Thank you for what you do with this blog. Have a wonderful day Julia!
P.S.
My inner child totally decided that she did NOT have Primary Sjogren's Syndrome. Twice. Yep. Just up and told everyone in the family that "NO, I do NOT have IT and I am NOT taken Plaquenil anymore". It lasted about 3 to 4 weeks each time, then I took the dumb medicine again. My fiancé was a real angel through all of it with "Okay, baby carrots (you know... "peas and carrots") (he's the peas :) No more Sjogren's".
Now, my inner child doesn't persist as stubbornly that "IT" does not exist anymore(shhhh), but she does decide that (by sheer willpower)she will NOT be sick for the next 3 or 4 days (frequently).
It's micro-manageable to be autoblind to my immune-navigation system for a few days at a time.
Post a Comment