Bad Medicine

During the entire time we were trying to pack out and leave our home, I was battling a nasty sinus infection.  This baby was a doozy.  It had started the beginning of October....and we packed out the end of October...final out middle of November.  So, you see...this beasty was hanging on with EVERYTHING it had!  Even though I had promptly gone to the clinic, things weren't working. 

This is where I need to insert a note, and it MIGHT be a long one.  For those of you who are military, you will completely understand what I am going to write about.  However, for those of you who aren't, this will be new to you.  In order to understand what I will be discussing, I feel like I need to explain "normal" to you.

When the civilian world talks about the countless benefits that the military receives (and this is often paired with a note of scorn), health care and housing are at the very top of the list.  Now, I hope you got a bit of a glimpse into the housing that we are sometimes given...and expected to live in with huge smiles on our faces.  Just wait until I tell you about our home in the Orient...what we had in the Great White North is a palace in comparison.  But I am digressing...

With Military Medicine, as with everything else, the mission comes first.  This means that those in uniform are a priority, which is very understandable to me.  Priority for Military Doctors is in this order:

1. Downrange Needs
2. Transport Medical Needs
3. Actual Installation Facility Needs
4. Active Duty
5. Families

These men and women do the best they can for the people that they are tasked to serve.  However, sometimes it just isn't enough.  There are typically only 1, sometimes, 2 pediatricians per base, and they may be nurse practitioners.  Even though the military breeds like rabbits (due to the vast majority being in the prime of their lives), how many pediatricians are really needed downrange (though humanitarian missions are countless...)?  Though the military works hard to provide, if you aren't stationed near a large medical center, you will have quite a wait to see a doc.  I accept this and try really hard to plan accordingly.  

Often, even though you are assigned a Permanent Care Provider (PCM), if your clinic is smaller and the population huge, when care is needed, you will have to schedule with someone else.  The whole time we were stationed in the Great White North, I only saw my assigned PCM twice.  All the other times, either my PCM had moved and they had changed my PCM or my PCM wasn't available.  You roll with it.  My engineer never had a problem seeing his...but I am just a dependent...so I take what I can get.

However, there are times when the constant passing of patients becomes deadly dangerous.  Unfortunately, that is what happened with me and my stupid sinus infection. 

I had a cold.  After drinking a lot of water, getting rest, keeping things clear, and taking lots of C, it morphed into a sinus infection.  The pain was unbearable, and knowing there wasn't much more I could do for it, I went into the clinic.  I was careful about how I used the clinic.  I know that they were always overrun by people who felt the clinic was a national past time, so I tried really hard to only go when needed.  At that point, I HAD to go in.    I had not choice.  The move was at our front door.  My baby needed me to be on my game.  Things were just getting worse.  

The first appointment that I had was with the first available doctor.  I will never forget it.  I had sat in the waiting room for an hour.  The poor Airman at the desk kept apologizing for being behind schedule.  Knowing that happens, I just settled back with my book.  Finally being called back, they took my vitals and left me in the room.  After half an hour, I had poked my head out the door, only to be told that the doctor would be with me shortly.  Fifteen minutes later, he breezed in the door, felt my face, gave me a script...and left.  Ok...7 minutes...  I guess I can live with that.  

Unfortunately, four days later, I was far worse, not better.  After calling my mother (an RN) and being told that I should have seen improvements within 2 days, I called the clinic for a phone consult.  The next day, I got a call from a nurse who told me that I just had to finish the 2 weeks of medication and come in if it is worse.  With a big gulp, feeling like that was all I could do, I followed her clipped advice.  By the end of the two weeks on medication that did not work, I felt like the walking dead.  After setting up another appointment, I went in again.

This time, I saw a different medical practitioner...again, not my PCM.  They just couldn't get me in.  After yet another long wait, I was finally called in.  After hearing what was going on, including the push I had to just finish the other medication (despite its ineffectiveness), she told me I needed something stronger.  Having qualms about jumping from one antibiotic to another, I questioned her about the wisdom of starting something stronger so soon.  She told me that it was my only option.  So, with great frustration, I obeyed...

During this whole time, we were cleaning out our home for its final inspection and preparing for one last trip to see family before boarding a plane for the Orient.  We were staying with dear friends during this period of upheaval.  All that can be said is that our lives were pure chaos...and being sick made it worse.

Having given up and working to "Embrace the Suck," I followed doctor's orders...and paired it with lots of yogurt.  Unfortunately, two days later, when we were to board a train south to see family, I was deathly ill.  At the time, I had no idea how sick I was.  All I knew was that things were wrong....and in a very big way.  Calling the clinic first thing in the morning, I was told that the soonest they could see me was in two weeks.  I told them that I thought that I might have C-Diff.  To no avail, I was dismissed with a terse, "we are busy and can't get you in for another 2 weeks!"  In tears, I hung up the phone. 

We boarded the train that day.  It is by the Grace of God that we had a sleeper compartment.  My health kept spiraling down...out of control.  After enduring a few days of living hell while "visiting" family, my engineer finally took me to the ER.  Upon arriving at the ER, they immediately rushed me in.  My blood pressure was 53/30.  I thank God for the staff at the hospital.  It is due to their knowledge, willingness to listen, and fast work that I am here today.  You see, I had c-diff colitis.  That is a nasty stomach bug that takes place when all the good bacteria is wiped out (normally through piggy backed antibiotics like I had) and the bad bacteria takes control over your digestive system.  By the time I was finally able to get in where someone would listen to me, I had already had it for a week.  

At this point, after receiving medical attention where I was a patient, not a dependent, I was wary about returning to our military medical clinic for my follow ups (for they were needed).  

From that moment in my life on, I have become a very strong, vocal advocate of both my children's and my own health.  You have to be.  With military medical, the mission comes first....and the families do not.  We have fantastic doctors who are stretched thin and must deploy at a moments notice.  You do have to roll with it to an extent.  However, when something isn't being handled correctly (and I am not talking about petty feelings being hurt!!!), you must stand up for your own healthcare.  As dependents, we have to understand where we fit in The Mission and work with it.  I have some friends who refuse to be seen by military doctors due to horrible experiences.  However, despite this unfortunate experience, I have had some wonderful doctors through the years.  But my hope is that you learn from my story and stand up for your own medical care....even if it means filing complaints (which I did upon our return to the Great White North).