Alright I got shit to get off’ve my rather saggy chest before I can move on with my day … weekend … Christmas …. arrghhh; Post- Snot and Tears day.
To back track slightly; I laid a complaint with the Health and Disability Commission about my GP over a year ago now, about the same time as I laid a complaint with ACC about their bullshit. I haven’t been back to my doctors since April 2016. I’ve made do with the excess drugs I had and pretty much got what I needed from family or alternative remedies.
I had to go to back to the doctors on Wednesday because that cunt was supposedly ‘qualified’ to fill out the ACC form that will start yet another lengthy process with ACC and their reviews of a. their fuck ups re treatment and compensation and b. the lengthy lengthy fucking lengthy process that accompanied – their fuck ups!
As noted previously, I was trying to do ‘calm’ on Wednesday and it spiralled down pretty quickly as we entered town. With snot and tears spilling over in large amounts however, I spoke with the doctor and went through what I needed him to do. Whether he actually did it properly is yet to be ascertained, grrr.
Now this all brings up 2 issues:
It would appear to the logical peep that one should change doctors and find someone that was a. helpful and b. good at their job at the very least!
Since the dictatorship of the National led government, for the previous 9 years, we saw our health system decline even more than it had been already. Now I’m not here to discuss politics (for a change) on this post … suffice to say, that even though National are a centre-right party – in my opinion they are just a wing of the same fucked up Crown bird.
So … getting another doctor is virtually impossible now. There are temporary GPs everywhere; which cost nearly double to see and there is no guarantee that you’ll actually get to see them when you need too. Pretty much – if you have a doctor you should be grateful even if they are shit at their job.
You can’t get anything ‘official’ done without a GPs stamp.
That sorted … I am sitting there telling this douche what I need from him … “An ACC 18 form, filled in and emailed to ACC, stating I can’t work”.
“So … this is related to the ‘Sensitive’ issue?”
Yes dude, it is.
“Oh, Okay … so were you working when this happened?”
Ummmm, No cunt … I was 3!
“OH, Okay … well I’m just wondering what I should put in the box that says, ‘date of injury’?”
“I’ll just put that you were a student …”
“Well, how long did “IT” go on for?”
“How old were you when the ‘issue’ stopped?”
What the fuck?
“Well, I need to put a date …”
Put whatever the fuck you like mate … just sign it and send the fucking thing ….
“So … You can’t work now because ….”
Oh my god …
“As in I need to put something in this box here … see … ”
Put what the ACC letter says: PTSD and related symptoms.
“OH … Okay, that seems reasonable”
and that continued for about 20 minutes; then he prints off the form and hands it to Me … “Just drop that in too ACC …”
“I just told you I can’t go in which is why you need to email it in …”
“Oh yes … do you have an email then?”
ACC. You have the email as You are the healthcare professional are you not??
Another 10 minutes pass and I am still snotting and tearing and angry as fuck. But I needs the form Ma’am … I needs it!!
I end up taking the printed copy and giving it to the receptionist to sort out, fingers fucking crossed they did it.
“So, medication … ” … You need something for the anxiety do you, he asks?
A brief conversation ensues whereby I give him a run down of what I use now (Zopiclone) and how I use it and is there anything that stays in the system short term that isn’t a sedative as such …
Ahhhh … he reckons … try this:
Now I have a history of bad ass reactions to all anti-depressants of the SSRI variety and the TCA variety and any other variety they’ve biffed at Me in the past. This is on the paperwork in front of him. He should know this shit. He knows that the side effects and contraindications of all medications that I have tried in these genres, apply to Me. And even though the reviews are shit, and he is not sure if it will work, but ‘it might just be the miracle you’re looking for’, he prescribes it anyway.
By the time all that was done I had been there nearly 40 minutes; 30 minutes to long for Me. I conceded and nodded my head …”write that script and let me get the fuck out of here”.
He prescribed more Zopiclone so I shall continue using that … grr.
All I can say, is:
What the Actual Fuck?