Recap of last day

So, I realize that I left it pretty cryptic at the last posting.

Truth is, there's not a whole lot left to tell. Basically had one last long day at the hospital. Got to talk to a VERY helpful doctor who explained much of the process to me and helped clarify many things for me - and helped me see how much of a dead end we were pursuing.

I was very thankful and blessed to get the opportunity to get INTO the hospital, as the waiting lists are long and getting longer. But the options there simply were not for me. Not to mention the time scales we're discussing were not even feasible. 2-3 years before I could get any actionable decisions from the hospital, and make forward progress.

My parents were crushed, to the point of some tears. This was one of the last, best hopes available within the world of socialized medicine at home. Without that opportunity, we have to rely on me being able to get myself graduated, employed, and on my own insurance plan again to begin the process of pursuing other treatment options. This trip had raised their hopes too high, and I was hurting for them at how low they were dashed. I'm ok, but I spent a couple of days with just a heavy heart thinking of how much this had hurt them.

A couple of good things came out of this - we were able to get a lot more bloodwork and testing done to continue building up the case file. I was given an invitation to come back to the hospital as a lecturer once I complete my Ph.D.

BEGIN RANT

In plain words, the doctor said that I would fare much better as a colleague than as a patient. She said doctors were not ready to explain themselves to a questioning patient, but they would readily hold in-depth sessions with a colleague. She said that basically all of their patients learn to just "trust" in their doctors and take their advice at face value, because they don't have the education to ask the right questions, and that my education and familiarity with my own case makes my doctors feel like I am an antagonist rather than a participant in my own care. This, because I ask questions, I request explanations for why we chose one treatment over another, and that I know when they are bluffing and making me do things "just because this is the way we do it HERE, not because it's a better choice". She said none of my doctors were willing to deal with a patient that could ask and smell the B.S. when requests for clarification were issued. But she said they'd be more than happy to do so with a COLLEAGUE.

This annoyed me quite a bit, because it goes back to a cultural problem I've had ever since I was a little kid. I abhor how much we hinge on our "titles" back home. People FREQUENTLY introduce themselves by their title and first/last names. "Ingeniero Lopez" would be one way I could politely introduce myself to people, "Lopez, engineer", and it would be written as "Ing. Juan M. Lopez" rather than "Sr. or Mr." Juan M. Lopez. People do this for their bachelor's degrees as well. It's called "degreed", so they introduce themselves as "Licensiado Lopez", for example, and would write it as Lic. Juan M. Lopez on any formal documentation. Of course, "Professor" and "Doctor" are more revered than "Engineer" Titles, but "Engineer" and "teacher" are more valued than "Degreed".

So, when you introduce yourself in this very TRADITIONAL manner, you are INFORMING people of the degree of respect with which you EXPECT them to address you. In Spanish there is a formal language and an informal language, and the titles demand the formality of the person to whom one just introduced oneself.

I have been able to claim the "lofty" title of engineer for years, and I always refuse. it annoys me to no end to DEMAND that kind of respect from people just because I say so. If they will respect me it is for who I am, not for what I TOLD them I am.

But, it bit me in the behind here. Once again, I did not use any of the "titles" I could have, and my doctors got all huffy that an "untitled" person felt "entitled" to ask questions. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

Screw it, though. I still refuse to use titles. I refuse to demand that someone respect me because I DEMAND it in my own introduction.

END RANT

Anyway. The program they were offering me was simply not a medically sound decision for me. The last doctor I interviewed admitted that it was one of the more dangerous and radical and irreversible measures out there, but that it was a "one size fits all" solution, and it would fix all the various problems the hospital dealt with when it came to obesity, so they focused on the most radical approach. Woe be to you if your problem warranted a more measured, deliberative approach, because only one is available.

I already have a malabsorption disease from the medicines they ordered. Now they want to induce a permanent broad-based malabsorption disease that will cause me more deficiencies than just vitamin B. I can't do it. The risks/quality of life issues simply did not manage to win me over to their column. But I dared question and I dared care about the decisions I was making about MY health, so I was not a good candidate for the social medicine hospital.

So be it.

Now, I am back in the states with no immediate plans to go seek any more treatment, and will probably have nothing new to report for quite a while.

Thank you all for caring, following up, wishing me well, and praying. I ask that you please keep my parents in your prayers. This has been awfully hard on them, and they are truly heartbroken to see another door slammed in the face of progress, especially one that had so much promise.

I should stop indulgently recapping my own previous writing, but this fits well:

Excerpt from Potter's Workshop:

Slowly, as if succumbing to the pressure of a suffocating weight, the Fool sinks to his knees. He reaches out to the Potter and cries out, bellowing with emotion but with a strangled whisper of volume.

The Potter rushes over, catching the Fool before that tired head reaches the dusty workshop tiles. "My Son, fruit of My Hands, I am here," whispers the Potter. "You are My design, My creation, My heart. Why do you flag and wax so morose?"

The Fool gathers himself, drinking in the strength that flows from his Potter. Recovering composure, he steadies his voice, and whispers, "This clay has worn out and worn fragile - brittle and thin. Though the soul was rediscovered through your latest design, robustness was not in Your plan."

"Your designs, always so perfect, what happened with mine? Was my soul so hidden, twisted, and scarred that a whole soul and whole vessel could not intertwine? Why do You...", the Fool drifts away, unable to finish the thought - unsure of the ending to the truncated question.

The Potter's eyes mist, His creation's sorrow His own. "My Son, why must you size yourself up by any mold or design but the one meant for you? Their tasks are not yours, your burdens your own. My design for you is ongoing, your purpose unfolding. Don't you trust Me, work of My own?"

The shamed Fool looks down, unable to meet his Potter's kind gaze. "Trust abounds, sweet Potter, but this thin clay seems untenable as I've run out of strength. Each day filled with pain, bleakness, and neverending fatigue."

At a whisper, saline rivulets down the Fool's craggy face, he continues, "The brightest beloveds you've allowed me, now merely a fond, distant memory. My closest two friends are the Night and my Potter. My work, my tears, my long nights to ponder, my trust of you, Potter...these are the things that keep me afloat."

"My Potter, though honored by the worth you have placed in my life and existence, I cry out 'Unworthy, unable!'. Please, dear Potter, I beg You, implore, arrogate - believe less in me and retire this vessel! Receive me back in Your workshop, a completed piece, purpose served. Please dear Potter, Your vessel does beg with its last ounce of strength!"

With this gasping cry, the Fool now collapses - his reservoir empty, his piece said, his pleas expended. He rests in his Potter's care.

"My Son, My Creation, My Handiwork - you are My design, My plan, My vessel. Your strength is not sufficient for My tasks, but on your strength alone you don't have to rely. My Child, My
Creature, My Clay, rest your head now, renew in My strength.", the Potter whispers.