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The second Dr "L": The years went by and I did a lot of different things. I worked for other people, I ran my own business and a lot of times I didn't work at all and I was just a nonfunctioning housewife. Jim was stuck with a disabled person. There are many different forms of spousal abuse: emotional abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, domestic violence, sexual abuse, and financial abuse. The first three types of abuse are all interconnected; they are nearly the same thing. Jim wasn't usually sexually abusive and yes the big shocker of the day is that a husband can commit sexual abuse against his wife. Jim only did this once and it was very strange and very confusing and I don't want to talk about it at length. However, it wasn't anything that anyone would ever guess. It wasn't rape, as rape is known and it wasn't, well it just wasn't anything that I've ever heard of or read about before. Maybe I'm the only one in the whole wide world to have suffered through it, I don't know. I just don't know. I used to try to talk about it but no one ever understood. Maybe it wasn't actually totally sexual abuse. Maybe it was a form of severe emotional-mental-verbal abuse tinted with perversion. I'm not sure what it really was. All I do know is that I'm probably the only one and I wish that I didn't even know anything like this could happen. I'd try to forget but repressed memory has never been my strong point. I can't ever forget anything that's happened to me no matter how hard I try. The second Dr. "L" came along a number of years ago when I had to see a doctor for a general physical exam for a job. I made an appointment with the second young Dr. "L" and saw him as scheduled. He seemed nice and normal and sane and I passed the very basic physical. I got some vaccines that were suggested for the job and I started working. The new job was a graveyard shift position and after only about two months my immune system crashed and burned again. I was constantly sick with colds, the flu repeatedly, bronchitis, walking pneumonia, ear infections, sinus infections, eye infections, stomach bugs, and whatever else was around. My employers were not happy with me. I was getting reprimanded at work a lot, but I needed the money so I tried to press on. While I was working this job a member of my family sent me the diagnostic paperwork for a genetic disease or disorder, I'm not sure which it really is, that they'd tested positive for some time ago. This disorder, disease, whatever it is, is associated with a few syndromes. One syndrome causes joint swelling, like intermittent arthritis to more permanent arthritis. The other syndrome causes eye infections, ocular swelling, dry skin, and some immune system dysfunction. I found out about the syndromes, because I had a few friends of mine research this issue a little for me while I was working. Both of these friends worked in the medical field so they could understand the medical terminology. I went back to Dr. "L" with the lab paper from my relative and asked him to run the blood test. Dr. "L" looked at me like I was crazy but he wasn't abusive. He just couldn't understand for the life of him why I'd want to be tested for this disease or disorder. I acted like I've learned doctors want a female patient to act, I pretended to be a flaky happy bubble headed beach blond with a hyperactivity problem. To a doctor that makes a female patient look sane. I know this is stupid and it shouldn't have to be that way, but it works for me. Dr. "L" was looking me over trying to decide if he should refer me to a shrink, but I was acting so happy and stupid and hyper-smiley, well I passed the test for sanity. I got a little serious about the test, but I stuck to my role. Dr. "L" agreed to run the test. His assistant drew the blood and it was sent to the lab. A week later I got the results. I tested positive. I guess the young Dr. "L" was surprised, he didn't know how to treat this one so he sent me to another rhematoligist. Oh boy, and here we go again. The rhematoligist, I will never learn how to spell that title, wasn't crazy or abusive either. However he was, well not too bright. He was an older doctor and I don't recall his name. I only saw him once. He looked me over and ran some more basic blood work and ordered x-rays of my back. Why my back? I have no idea. I told him he ought to x-ray my hips if anything because that's where I had problems although nothing that serious. My real trouble was with my immune system. Groan� The basic blood work came back clean and my back is fine on x-ray. There were no big surprises for me there. I still don't know if I have the syndromes associated with the disease or disorder that I tested positive for. All I know is that I tested positive for this genetic disorder. I never went back to the second rhematologist again because it would have been a major waste of my time. He was truly clueless in cluelessville. I haven't followed up this lead that much either. I don't know where to go to follow it up. I'm not willing to go to a lot of different doctors repeating my story, hoping one of them will help me, having them run that same basic blood work again, perhaps x-raying the wrong part of my body again and then doing it over. I don't like going to new doctors and wondering if they're going to be cruel or abusive or perhaps downright perverted. During this same period of time I was still getting really sick a lot. I'd run fevers and lay sprawled out burning up and drifting in and out of consciousness involuntarily. Jim would ignore what was going on and a friend of mine finally got angry and informed me that Jim better wake-up because if I died like that Jim would be held legally responsible. I passed this information onto Jim and he became defensive about it, but he never did wake-up. I wondered sometimes if I would just die like that. Just laying there, burning up yet ignored in the house, hearing Jim's voice and the TV blaring in the background, passing out again and just dying. That was ok with me. I didn't really care anymore. It would be the perfect way to die anyway. One weekend night I had Jim take me to the emergency room because my lungs felt like they had fluid in them and I was having some trouble breathing. Jim was really annoyed about having to drive me, but he did as I asked. I went in to the examining room and Jim stayed in the waiting room. Jim wasn't allowed to go into examining rooms anymore because of what he did in Dr. "T's" office. The doctor was nice and sane and she confirmed that there was fluid in my lungs and wrote me a prescription for antibiotics. I'd caught it in the early stages and I wouldn't have been willing to go to the hospital anyway. When I went out to the waiting room I think that Jim was eager to toot his victory horn about how there was nothing wrong with me. I enjoyed showing him the paper that said how sick I was. I read it over and over again to him all the way home. I did the same thing when I got the positive test back for the genetic disorder or disease or whatever it is. I posted the genetic test up on the refrigerator too. Sometimes I'm not a very nice person anymore. Jim came to apologize profusely for calling me a hypochondriac and other ugly names, but I'll never know if he meant it or not. Sometimes I just don't care anymore. |
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