believe it or not, these docs cannot follow orders from better docs elsewhere, nor are they capable of contacting them for clarity (just had hubby take a day off of work to get me into NY city back to vascular specialist for the thoracic outlet syndrome, because nobody up here could find the info he sent after his initial letter, nor could they (so they claimed) get through to him to ask for more info. I did, and I'm just a plain ol' person). Nor are they capable of talking to each other, they tell me to tell the other this or that, no email, phone, nothing. It's mind boggling.

Have a whole collection of typed up sheets I hand out as necessary, everything from lists of medicines I'm on and medicines I cannot take (if one in 10,000 people have trouble with a med, it will be me) to a summary listing of symptoms and problems to the two page listing of current and former doctors from the last two years since the accident. It's kind of funny when the intake person starts asking the usual questions and I just keep pulling out another complete printed sheet for them, the facial expression becomes priceless. Funniest part is, they always insist they will make copies and give them back to me, takes a bunch of arguing that I can just print more (have they really not heard of home computers, printers, etc?) to get them to just TAKE them. Guess they're not used to experienced patients. I've just had it with filling out the same info over and over and over and over....

So I will wait the month to get in for the testing, still waiting for the bloodwork orders that were supposedly mailed to me last week, no rush to get to that, either. (I hate needles. Like, stressed out semi-panic at the thought, since I evidently have very tiny veins and it usually involves some digging around.)

It either is, or it isn't. Will either be diagnose-able, or not. Problem will either get better, stay the same, or get worse. Whatever. Not like getting all uptight about it is going to help. Just wondering if this will be something else to blame the guy who clobbered us for, or if the universe just felt the need to play yet another twisted joke on me.