end of my rope

How many times have I been in this place? Where all hope seems lost? All options extinguished?

7 months post-hysterectomy, my precious miracle general practitioner who took me under her wing 5 years ago and had the guts to offer real solutions, to take on the trickiest inherited-migraine mess she’d ever seen, had to quit practicing medicine due to her own earth-shattering chronic illness, which I’d heard about but seen no signs of: MS.

Prior to this sudden announcement, the practice had terminated its “admitting rights,” meaning they would not be taking care of their patients who’d been hospitalized but would leave that to hospitalists, doctors who only work in that setting and are unfamiliar. Around this same time I started hearing rumors of a new state law making it more difficult to treat chronic pain with narcotic medicines in a hospital setting, and I’ve certainly seen evidence of that. My last hospitalization, in February, and ER visits over the weekend were simply hellish. And now I have no one who really knows my case and will back me up – each time it will be starting from scratch, each time I will have to fight for what I need. Sometimes I will get it; sometimes I won’t.

I feel completely abandoned and untethered. No safety net. I am seeing another doctor in the practice next week to discuss my situation and the possibility of her administering Botox, which she’s just learned to do. But I think that what I’m realizing is that I need to return to my neurologist.

Just when I thought things might be getting better… the rug is pulled out from under me once again.

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