So, I have this appointment today. At a Pain Management Clinic. I really, really feel like I am heading into some kind of factory, or… what? A prison? don’t even know. Why am I so terrified?
I need to keep reminding myself that I’m not just going there on my own, in a fit of pique, because I didn’t get my way at my neurologist’s office. I am not an addict, or a drug seeker. I have a crippling illness and plenty of proof of that. And I have been suffering since February. Well, actually, my whole life.
My primary care provider likes this clinic, this doctor, and referred me there. Twice. The first time I was too afraid to go. My pain therapist, even sharing the research hospital with my neurologist, supports me as well. I have to keep this in mind.
Is it the drug testing? I mean, yes, of course. That’s why I feel like a criminal. And the other pain clinic I went to WAS truly terrifying. Tiny and dirty, and I hadn’t known I’d be drug tested at the first appointment. My urine wasn’t clean, and frankly I was glad. I just wanted to get out of there. I had gotten a really severe migraine while waiting, big surprise. This place, while I will be tested, should be bigger. Cleaner. Nicer. Right?
I tend to get very, very upset when medical professionals don’t treat me well. This time, I am not going to take it personally. Whether I am told it’s all in my head, or that I have to make do with the Sumatriptan and oxygen, or simply that any prescriptions will wait until a later appointment, I will walk in with my head held high, and leave the same way.
And this won’t be my only attempt. I will go back to my GP if I need to. Dr S has my back, and so does Dr. Mac. And, as always, I have my own. I am all I need.