It’s Valentine’s Day! And rather than go all mushy about my two amazing men (which I could do ad nauseam, believe me), I will instead devote this post to a break-up.
I will start with one of my favorite quotes, from one of my favorite movies, Singles (start at 1:11 if you don’t want to watch the whole thing, though I encourage you to watch it all, it’s funny. Even better, go watch the movie and dig on Janet’s black early-90′s hat.):
“Wait a minute. What am I doing here? I don’t have to be here. I can just break up with him!” –Janet
Since the last procedure on my shoulder (described here) I have been endeavoring to be a “good patient”. Despite a truly horrible experience, I’ve been just taking it. But a day or so ago, when describing to someone new what all had happened, I had an epiphany as I witnessed the look of horror on my listener’s face.
I can just break up with my doctor.
Or, at the very least, I can cheat on him.
Seriously. Why on earth am I trying to be understanding? When it comes down to it, he did a piss-poor job on a number of fronts:
1. He didn’t use any imaging to confirm diagnosis.
2. He didn’t give any options aside from the procedure he suggested. For example, he didn’t explain that this particular condition tends to heal on its own WITHOUT ANY INTERVENTION in 1-2 years, or that arthroscopic surgery is another option (probably because he’s not a surgeon and can’t do it himself).
3. The expectations and risks for the scheduled procedure were not adequately communicated.
4. He didn’t confirm that the nerve block was working accurately before starting the procedure.
5. His reaction post-procedure was totally lacking.
While I also bear some responsibility here (in that I researched the condition once he’d diagnosed me, and I could have called and asked any number of questions that may have helped to prevent some of this), there’s no need to pretend he’s the only doctor on earth and to pander to him.
So… no more feeling guilty that I “should have spoken up about not being numb instead of assuming he knew what he was doing” (this was suggested to me by a different medical professional, as if I should know exactly what all this crap is supposed to feel like so I can provide oversight to the performing physician). No more sitting around dreading the follow-up appointment. No more stewing in my own juices of annoyance.
Like Janet I am moving on.
Unlike Janet though, I won’t be lowering my expectations.
I still very much expect a “Bless you,” when I sneeze.