Member-only story
Health check-in
The body I reside in
Insurance is a joke we don’t yet get
They don’t listen when I tell them my blood pressure is fine. The cuff doesn’t fit my arm. The cuff is the wrong size for my arm.
The mechanics don’t hear me whine when it squeezes those painful parts.
That last one popped when they tried it.
Yes, I’m embarrassed.
It’s hard to sit there and watch their eyes glaze over.
I think that my heart might be hardening.
Five months of insurance denying the medication that corrected all this failing, all this pain, returned a working body to order. A lifetime of being “lazy” finally sorted out in a visit last week. And insurance sits silent.
Today, this visit, which was meant to ease my pain, but which cannot continue because they are not listening. The way they should be grabbing the stethoscope to truly listen. Instead they’re watching the numbers climb up on this device they have made me stick my arm into three times.
The way those old movies where, in jungle temples, someone must place their arm into uncaring holes.
Like them, I return home changed, still smarting, in pain. Confused.
I’ve written about my new plan for continuing in this process while still in pain. Read it here.
