Really? I'm the only one who cares?

I promised myself (and my loyal reader, Mom) that I'd write down what I've learned, and given that it's been several days since I've done that, time to catch up.

Tuesday, I learned that democracy still works.

Wednesday, I learned that I still have some skills worth money. I had the privilege of coaching a quartet of friends, and while I thought there might be donuts as reward, I actually got $50, which meant I could buy my husband a birthday present. God does provide.

I also learned on Wednesday that the office staff of my intended specialist, a rheumatologist, really is that bad. After shouting at me through the glass, "Are you looking for Jim?!?", a nurse came out and asked what I wanted. I handed her my records that have been faxed to them twice but they "never got it." Nurse Apathetic asked if I was a patient, and I said I was trying hard to be. Then she gave me the litany of reasons that the doctor was going to take a long time to look at my records. I don't even care anymore.

Thursday, I learned that the doctor I was hoping to use for diagnosis in the first place actually ordered a test! So I called the hospital after allowing time for the orders to be faxed and received. Oh yes, the orders are here. "I'll have to call you back after I talk to the doctor, though." Then the nurse hung up on me without taking my number. She didn't call the doctor either. I was having a hard time breathing that day, and phone conversations were difficult, so I didn't care anymore about that either.

Also on Thursday (it's been a banner week!) I learned that if you file for Social Security disability electronically, you get a call the next day to make your telephone appointment. Then you have about two weeks to send in your birth certificate, fill out another form (which you can do online), and get your medical records together and sent in.

The following day, Friday, added evidence to a growing realization: no one cares about you using a cane or other assistive devices as much as you do. My daughter had asked me to walk with her on the field for Senior Night at the football game. Senior athletes and musicians in the marching band are allowed to write a statement of their future intentions, thank yous, and farewells, which is read as they walk a designated path on the field with their families. I was concerned that I would walk too slow, walk too obviously disabled, or worse, not be able to walk at all and have to let the rest of the family go without me. As it turned out, Friday was a great day, a welcome respite from the previous two days, and I could walk at least fast enough unassisted by a cane. But it wouldn't have mattered anyway.

Yesterday was my husband's birthday, and I had some ambitious plans: get up, make breakfast for him, bake a cake, and tidy the kitchen. None of it happened except the get up part. Friday had taken its toll, and I could not walk well at all. I got my land legs at about 1pm, so we decided to try to run a few errands. 90 minutes later I was red-faced from humiliation in a wheel chair in Walmart. And again, nobody cared but me. There's a theme here. By the end of the Walmart shopping, I was in and out of full consciousness, staring off into space while my husband wheeled me around. Happy birthday, my dear. Here's a drooling wife to celebrate. He said he didn't care, but I did.

Sigh.

I think this is a lesson I've needed to learn for a long time, and I think I'm ready to learn it now. Or at least try. The general public doesn't really care if I'm disabled or not. Not really. Yes, my friends and family watch me with concern, but the sooner we all can accept what is, the easier it will be.

Well, it's been a long week and I didn't sleep this night, despite muscle relaxers and Ambien. I'm starting to get mentally sluggish. I'm sure I will learn something today too, but remembering to write it down may be another matter.