Showing posts with label Medicine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Medicine. Show all posts

Friday, October 31, 2025

My Tumor Reminds Me Of Donald Trump

Sitting in the exam room after receiving radioactive dye for my PET scan to look for a tumor or even worse, most would be anxious about pending test results. When met with the unknown we tend to think the worst will happen. Much like an illness which may threaten your health, Donald Trump has many feeling the same type of anxiety.

Many won't admit to the negative thoughts circulating in their head when a doctor uses the words 'tumor' or 'cancer.' I know I had a million thoughts going through my mind in the first minutes of receiving the news. FIGHTING was not my first thought. No. All of my fears, those I kinds I knew I had and those that came out of the blue, circulated in my head.

Then, after a few minutes there was an empty feeling of nothing. I guess this is the shock stage. My mind must have overloaded with the numerous scenarios filled with negativity like, what about my children and how long do I have. There was silence in my head, in the core of my being. Many have gone through these same emotions on the night Donald Trump won his second presidential election.

Those who had worked tirelessly to warn citizens of America that Trump is unfit to be president due to his greed, immorality, childishness, pettiness, and lack of intelligence, were disappointed with the election results knowing what was coming in the future.

The bad, life altering news that Trump won a second presidency had the worst imaginable scenarios for his term, which are even worse in reality. If voters were like me, it took three months for the empty hollow feeling of shock to subside. What was it replaced with?

After leaving the doctor's office with my new, not yet verified diagnosis of a tumor, I wanted information. I wanted to know everything about my possible condition. I turned to facts. I couldn't allow myself to just GUESS what may be occurring in my body. I had to have FACTS. After Trump's win, facts became the enemy of his administration. Truth is being hidden or out and out lied about. I can't imagine if my access to information about tumor were restricted how much mor anxious would I have become. Thank goodness it wasn't.

Having facts matter when there is something that is causing confusion, chaos, fear, or uncertainty in your life. Truth is a wonderful tool to alleviate fear. The Trump administration does not want to get rid of fear and anxiety in Americans. It's their best asset in getting voters to support them. The worse scenarios play out on Fox News nightly warning MAGA and Christians that their lives are in danger. 

After taking more tests, I had to sit and wait for over 30 days for what I hope today is the last BIG test to finding a true diagnosis to my health problems. While I waited there were pills, numerous emergency room trips, more sickness, restrictions on my daily life, change after change of medications and depression from being so sickly. I lost a tremendous amount of muscle mass and look weak. The first 100 days of Trump's presidency was one emergency or crazy thing after the next. The American people became tired of seeing what he was doing and is still doing to our country. Like cancer or a tumor, is the disease of the Trump administration. 

Even if we are not doctors, common sense dictacts for the removal of cancerous cell and tumors as soon as poosivle. Cancer is that aggressive. It doesn't give you time to adjust, once it begins, it begins. The same with Donald Trump. America knew he was cancerous his first term, and what happened? First going to a doctor to DIAGNOSE the problem is the hardest step for many. Family members know the reluctant patient had to be talked into going to the doctor let alone listening to and believing the diagnosis. 

I am calling out DOCTORS for watching this kind of sickness and abuse when they ARE advocates for the sick. If you are not going to do what your lisense says, Doctors should be turned in for neglect. Come on the man is mentally unfit as a country of educated doctors of America don't call for and objective assesment of the president. Get the signitures going Mental Health doctor. The people are afraid each day what he will do. There MUST be some grown people in our country INSTEAD of just complainers. How many peices of sugned paper helps a person in this condition. The mentally ill SUFFER dealing with it. Like I said Ause. No protest neede. We just need people willing to put feet to their mouthed. He is unstable and ABUSING AMERICA. Call a doctor.

Trump is unwilling to get the professional help he needs. Mental illness is a blatant issue but, there are those who not concerned about his healt or him. I've begun to call it #ElderAbuse and #SeniorCitizenAbuse. How can people who care about you watch you humiliate your self on the world stage. Ther is no PRETENDING, now that he can't stay awake ten minites if he isn't engaged in nastiness.

His cabinet let's him nape and wake him up when it's time to entertain the masses with stupidity, plum garbage and lies out of his my. I'm no therapist but I know when I see delusions of granduer in form of my eyes. Trump elevates himself above every human. He only comes down to see what you have, take it from you, and have the best of your stuff he's stolen from people and the REPUBLICANS , Trump is gloating by himself, that's his reward for doing nothing. He get's to PLAY while Americans are hungry and sick. They do the business part and then turn it over to the CLOWN and he never disappoints. I hate that they go on every show at night trying to tell Americans, "This is what Trump meant or actually said. 

I'm not so much sickened by REPUBLICAN'S racism, I'm sicked because some LOW PEOPLE believe they are SUPERIOR in any way. They have to break the law in EVERYTHING they touch because they are just LAZY FRAT  boys hanging out thinking about what other mischeif and harm they can do. I have NEVER seen such a GIGGLY bunch of men than I have in this FAKE administration. That Jordan dude laughed all the way through the PAM BUNDI show.

Everyone knows it is out of WEAKNESS that someone stoops to CRIME to say they are SUPERIOR than them. It's EVIDENT superiority is n o where near this Trump bunch and they don't don't care. These are parents shutting down EDUCATION in America. The only way to be superior is to take away facts and education. Dumb beyond belief.

I guess that is what you call a RANT. TYhank you for your patience. Yeah, so I still don't know what IS causing my sickness but it's not a tumor. Maybe, it's something like a tumor.



 

Friday, October 17, 2025

SHORT STORY: It Could Just Be The Wind

 

Never wrote a short story before. Please tell me if the story spooked you, made you wonder too, or had no effect. Writers want the reader to have some kind of emotional feeling. DID I ACCOMPLISH THIS? Feedback of any kind appreciated. DO I HAVE A FUTURE IN WRITING?

IT COULD JUST BE THE WIND

 

Finishing my, as the book directd, prayer, “Lord, please forgive me of all my sins known and unknown. I repent of any wrong I have done to others, known and unknown. Cleanse me of all my sins and allow me to see your divine angels, In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen,” I feel a chilling puff of cold air on my right forearm. Goosebumps stand erect acknowledging what my eyes didn’t see. If all the other occurrences could be summed up as, “It could just be the wind playing tricks on you,” I would take it with no more questions asked. But this can’t be explained away so cavalierly.

I wonder for a moment, if the prayer to see angels I just performed really works. I was a little hesitant to say the prayer because the beautifully illustrated jacket of the book warned if there is any darkness or unforgiveness in you, you may see demons instead of angelic angels. Immediately after saying the prayer, I, with wide eyes, search for what will appear from my prayer in my sun filled livingroom. Nothing. It has always been my dream to see the angels and nothing.

Hearing the youthful sounds of children playing basketball in my yard, I smile and decide to take in some afternoon sun on the black iron garden bench and watch them play. As the kids laugh and try daring basketball moves, I become overcome with the nagging feeling there is a slithering snake at my feet. Unable to ignore the increasing sense that a snake is near, I fold my feet under me Indian style on the bench, which did not ease the feeling. Finally, I cautiously bolt to the security of the indoors. Once inside, I laugh at my foolishness.

Kids fed and tucked into bed without much complaint, I settle to watch my favorite show, ER, with lights off. Just me and George Clooney for an hour. Suddenly in the darkened room illuminated by the flickers of the television, my peripheral vision sees a black formless shadow dart from the side of the black kitchen refrigerator and disappear at the end of my side vision. Snapping my head in the direction of what I am sure I saw, I simultaneously think, “Did I just see that,” and “Who’s there?”

Just as quickly as the feeling of impendinng doom came, it disappeared as I laugh at myself, being startled by nightly tricks of the eye. Focusing back on the t.v., I settle in to enjoy my remaining time with George.and his gorgeous hair. I jump, startled once again, but this time by the extremely loud booming hum of the refrigerator, which sounds more like a hungry chainsaw in search of its food. It has never been this loud before. Frowning, as if pained from the audio assault, I must pee and pee badly. I gather myself to scurry past the cold loud kitchen to the powder blue bathroom down the hall. Relieving myself and exhaling my uncalled-for fear, I dismiss the previous frightful occurrances.

Why have I been on edge all day looking for something that doesn't exist? I’m never jittery like this, literally shaking like the last brown dry leaf holding on to a tree branch in the blustery fall wind. I twist and flutter, shaking but never giving in to the power of the destructive winds like that leaf. Of course, I’ve seen shadow figures before, but never several times like tonight. I need to calm down, breath, and relax. With that, I wipe and flush the toilet. The sound of the flushing sounds like bombs of war going off. The percussion sound blows me back, causing me to stumble. I feel a rush a wind again. Searching the tiny bathrrom, looking for an open winndow, which remains closed and locked, I can't find a sourch of the bone chiilling wind. shivering I run to the dark living room, hopping onto the couch, cowering under a blanket as the toilet roars from the bathroom like an angry lion. Praying for the toilet to fill and quiet, I wait, all the while I feel as if someone or something is watching me.

Trembling like a wet fearful dog hoping to be rescued by its master, I look out from the red wool blanket, searching the kitchen for the black formless shadow. After a few minutes, which seemed like an hour, the black shadow darted from the side of the refrigerator down the hall towards the bathroom and my baby’s room. Heart pounding like a startled rabbit, I question once again whether I have seen what I had saw. No! No, I didn’t. I don’t believe in ghos….

Suddenly it dawns on me; my prayer. My breathing quickens to pants reliving today’s earlier request to see etheral angelic angels. What if I unleashed demons instead of angels? No! My heart is clean! The prayer didn’t work! Its not possible to request to see angels. Good angels. The book warned me! Why didn’t I listen! No! No! No! I don’t believe such stuff, and yet I do in the secret creases of my heart.

The night dragged like a man lame from war as I waited for the snail-like approaching daylight. I removed the batteries from the clock hours ago, each tick of the second hand sounded like a grenade going off. Boom! Boom! Boom, striking terror with each explosive sound. Now I sit in a fetal position in the corner of the green velvety couch. I’m freezing, bone shaking cold, but too scared to move from the couch to put on warmer clothes. I had on sexy sheer lingerie for my quality time with George. The airconditioner is pumping out North Pole air. My brain is ping-ponging from one explanation to the other for the shadows and noise. Nothing is comforting or reassuring. As each moment passes, I feel my grip on reality slipping away. If only this was a dream, then I could make sense of it all. Even though I have vivid dreams, dreams I can manipulate while sleeping to start, stop, or change at my command, I can tell the difference between dreams and reality. Now I don't know what reality is at all.

This is something different. Something unearthly. I am between insanity and reality, not knowing which is which. If I am seeing dark demons from my prayer, is it real? If I’m seeing demons, is it from the prayer or am I just going crazy? I don’t know what is real right now, which makes me question my sanity even more. Did a mental breakdown happen to coincide with a prayer to see angels? Whatever is happening to me is terrorizing. Rocking myself, wanting to hum a soothing song but can't form any words in my head, eyes cast down, I pray for daylight.

As the dark night sky of mystery yields itself to shades of gray tinged with the oranges of a rising sun, I’m proud I’ve held on. I called hubby an hour ago who is out of town working. I didn’t know what to say except I need you to come home and take me to the doctor. Now I question what exactly I will tell my husband and doctors about what happened to me all night. Looking into the not-so-dark-now kitchen, I see no shadows and immediately question if I ever had.

Hearing the sputtering engine cut off from the truck hubby drives, I quickly decide, as I smile with relief, last night didn’t happen. I just had a bad bad day. I was just over sensitive to noise and now its over. No black shadows or bombs going off. It could be the presence of daylight, hubby’s calming presence, or my imagination, but none of the feelings from the night linger in the coming daylight.

I explain to hubby I was having a bad day and just felt off. I will go to the doctor if the feeling returns but all is okay now. We spend the day together having family fun. We put the children to sleep an hour after their usual bedtime. They got to stay up an extra hour because dad had come home early. Me and boo shut down the house for the day and snuggle, talk, and laugh in the middle bedroom. We hear at the same time the sound of little feet almost running from the kid’s bedroom heading our way. Laughing we know it is our nightly bed-jumper, our youngest. We listen as the tiny feet approach, waiting to hear the excuse of a four-year-old trying to worm her way into our bed. No child appeared.

With a questioning look, his usual furrowed brow and without words, hubby looks at me for a long minute. Climbing over me, his knees promising to do damage unless I sheild myself, he goes to the open bedroomm door and looks down the hall into the livingroom where the footsteps were heard. Confused, and with mouth open he stares at me for some kind of answer. All I can offer him is an ‘I know. I heard it too’. I pat for him to come sit on the bed next to me. I explain the prior night’s event, leaving out the part where I prayed to see angels. That never happened right? I'll never tell I prayed to see angels and was scared shitless instead.

I tell hubby I need to go to the doctor and tell him what I told him. We both agreed the doctors will think I’m crazy. Hubby offers to tell the doctors he experienced some weird shit too in the house and we both heard the unexplained footsteps. I can’t imagine what doctors will think if two parents came to them with such a story. We would probably lose custody of our children. No. Only I will confess to the craziness.

It does enter my mind to pray for the visions to disappear. But that will only work if the prayer to see angels worked in the first place. With hubby experiencing hearing the human-less footsteps, something occurred after the prayer. What, I can't tell you. On the other hand, I have a long family history of mental illness, schizophrenia to be exact. I’m sure I saw what I saw and heard what I heard. But so was my mother when she thought she was the Unabomber police were looking for because she once worked at the post office. The things she must have heard and saw with that delusion.

“I want you to place one of these pills under your tongue each time you have a panic attack,” the nice doctor said handing me a prescription for Xanax. My hubby watched as my shaky hand took the prescription from the doctor, nodding my head. Smiling, I felt as if I had the answer, anxiety attack. Sounded right to me even though hubby wants to hang a horseshoe over the door to ward off evil and says he will never stay in the house alone again.

I’m mentally ill. How relieving. It’s not schizophrenia though. I'm lucky. Sure, hubby is a little shaken. Okay, scared, but we have been okay for days even though I have to pop several pills at night when the noises and shadows come. I sleep with a fan running to drown out the footsteps at night. I believe it is called white noise. Many well people sleep with a television or fan on at night to help with sleep. My days are normal. No boogieman nor signs of schizophrenia. Just peace in the mind. Nights are another story.

Nights have become battles of thought. Are those who can see and talk to angels mentally ill or are those with mental illness able to communicate with beings on another level. Should I embrace being able to see what I see, good or bad, or continue to monitor my mental health for further decline. I brace myself each night at the mercy of a thing which I can not determine what it is. Menacing is the best word for it right now. Should I surrender to this unknown? What is my reality? Do I see what I think I see? What is a certain reality is the fact I have gone from one pill to six and this reality persists, and the torture is not knowing what my reality is. “Hello shadow, how are you tonight?”

 

Thursday, July 20, 2023

How To Spot A BAD Doctor

 


    I have had the pleasure in my life to have had good experiences going to a new doctor. My experiences of having a BAD doctor outnumber the experiences of having a GOOD doctor.

    I happen to have back problems and in my efforts to find help for the problem, I have encountered HORRIBLE doctors!

    My frustrastion and anger was off the charts. I felt so helpless in my health care desparation. I knew deep within me the DOCTOR did not seem as CONCERNED with my excrutiating back pain as I was. I was ready to give up. My doctor visits left me feeling EXHAUSTED. I felt like I was in a FIGHT just for the doctor to LISTEN to what MY health complaints were.


    After one very disappointing doctor visit to a new doctor, I know I got Covid the next day due to the stress and hopelessness of a doctor dismissing me and being condescending to me as he quickly entered and exited my patient room. My immune system had to be as low as I felt that day. Thus COVID!

    I had had enough! I thought back to the majority of my doctor visits to see if there was a common DENOMINATOR. There was. First, I will give several signs of a bad doctor according to my RESEARCH before I go on about my personal findings about my BAD experiences with doctors:

Your doctor has a bad bedside manner.
Your doctor is late.
You aren't called with test results.
Your doctor’s record is blemished.
Your doctor has trouble with boundaries.
Your doctor has poor diagnostic skills.
Your doctor asks personal questions.
Your doctor is narrow-minded about alternative therapies.

7 Signs of a Bad Doctor:
  • The office staff is unprofessional.
  • Your doctor isn't listening to you.
  • You can't get in touch with them.
  • You don't know what's going on.
  • Your doctor is rude or condescending.
  • Your doctor seems rushed.
  • They don't offer helpful alternatives.

****MY advice for you to FLEE is a waiting room full of people waiting for HOURS to see the doctor. The doctor, his employees, his practice, does not RESPECT YOU from the get go. DO NOT pay or see a doctor who makes his patients WAIT forever in the waiting room. SIMPLE! 

    Now for my journey. The FIRST common denominator was, the majority of the doctors were WHITE MALES. And RACE does make a difference in the healthcare system. Nearly 64 percent of active physicians were White, 20.6 percent were Asian, 6.9 percent were Hispanic, and 5.7 percent were Black or African American, as of January 17, 2023. In 2018,Whites were 60% of the U.S. population and approximately 57% of physicians. Diversity knowledge is needed to be able to address many patient's needs as I will get into later.

     This is NOT the race card being played. It is just the facts of being ill and in need of treatment for your health concerns while being BLACK. I have always FELT a white man could not relate to the medical concerns of a BLACK WOMAN. I just felt it in my gut, but continued on. 

    SECOND, the AGE of a doctor makes a difference. In 2018, among White physicians, males were the vast majority of those age 65 years and over (79.3%) and of those ages 55-64 years (71.5%). A little more than half of White physicians age 34 and younger were females (50.6%). Among White physicians age 35 and over, males made up a larger percentage of the workforce than females. This percentage increased with age. New research published last week in the Journal of Modern Medicine, which analyzed a large number of physicians according to age, sex and race, showed that older white male doctors (age greater than 60) in a number of different specialties, overwhelmingly had BETTER patient outcomes and patient satisfaction, than any other demographic.

     Now let's look how race plays a role in healthcare since I am a minority.

    Racial and ethnic disparities vary by group: For about 40% of quality measures, Blacks (82 of 202) and American Indians and Alaska Natives (47 of 116) received worse care than Whites. For more than one-third of quality measures, Hispanics (61 of 177) received worse care than Whites, according to NHQDR. The annual National Healthcare Quality and Disparities Report (NHQDR) is mandated by Congress to provide a comprehensive overview of the quality of healthcare received by the general U.S. population and disparities in care experienced by different racial and socioeconomic groups. ALL groups receive worse care than WHITE people.

     When you throw in a person's income, things can get even worse. For the most recent year, people in poor households had worse access to care than people in high-income households for 90% of access measures. Blacks had worse access to care than Whites for 48% of access measures. Asians had worse access to care than Whites for 32% of access measures. Native Hawaiians/Pacific Islanders (NPHIs) had worse access to care than Whites for 25% of access measures. American Indians and Alaska Natives (AI/ANs) had worse access to care than Whites for 55% of access measures. Hispanics had worse access to care than non-Hispanic Whites for 65% of access measures.

    In 2017, Blacks (73.4%), Asians (70.1%), and AI/ANs (67.5%) were less likely than Whites (76.8%) to have a usual primary care provider. In 2017, Blacks (20.4%) and Asians (24.3%) who needed to see a SPECIALIST were more likely than Whites (14.2%) to report that they sometimes or NEVER found it easy to get the appointment. People of color can't even get appointments or referrals. It's not in our heads. 

    You know what else is not in OUR heads? Many doctors don't seem to care very much about their patients, are somewhat mean to their patients, and even seem as they may not know or understand what's going on with the patient. Our Spidey senses are RIGHT.

''There have been estimates that as many as 5 to 15 percent of doctors are not fully competent to practice medicine, either from a deficiency of medical skills or because of impairment from drugs, alcohol or mental illness,'' said Dr. Richard Jay Feinstein, former chairman of the Florida State Medical Board.Mar 24, 1985.

    The reason why doctors can be condescending is that they were probably jerks to begin with, rationalizing that getting into medical school is very competitive and that students are ranked according to test scores, not on how nice they are. Successful pre-meds are generally type A personalities with a fierce competitive nature, and what kind of person would sign up for a career where they are harassed, blamed, required to do endless paperwork of indeterminate usefulness, denied regular sleep, and endure hostility from staff, coworkers, family members, and error-prone colleagues? A person with a pretty thick skin and a high tolerance for sadism and/or masochism…also known as a jerk. YES. If you FEEL your doctor is a jerk than he probably is one.

    When I speak of racism in the medical field it is not doctors not wanting to treat you because of your color. It is something else on an entirely different level.

    Doctors tend to believe: BLACK PEOPLE HAVE A HIGH TOLERANCE FOR PAIN. No I don't. I'm just as delicate as the blonde blue eyed white woman!!

    When false ideas of pain tolerance based on RACE are present within people's minds, they lead to detrimental consequences even if those who believe in them have no explicitly prejudiced beliefs, as was discovered by researchers. In a study on racial bias in pain assessments, a demonstrated correlation between racial bias in pain assessment and subsequent pain treatment suggestions was found. It was also found that in both a significant number of laypersons and those with medical training, incorrect beliefs about differences between black and white people on a BIOLOGICAL level were held.

     Beliefs such as these can lead to the differential treatment of patients on the basis of their race. In a research paper which was written by Staton et al., doctors were shown to have a higher probability of UNDERESTIMATIN the pain INTENSITY that black patients were feeling. In the early 2000's multiple studies were able to demonstrate discrepancies in the PAIN TREATMENT of black patients as compared to the pain treatment of white patients. From children to adults, differences were as much as black patients only taking HALF of the amount of pain medications as white patients were taking.

    Diagnostic errors result in a staggering toll of harm and patient deaths with nearly one in twenty patients—or 12 million adults in the United States—experiencing a diagnostic error each year. WOMEN and Black patients are more likely to experience ADVERSE events during primary care. Overall, research suggests that some vulnerable social groups are more likely to be harmed by diagnosis error.

     Further, research has found that, when compared to White patients, ethnic minorities have a greater chance of experiencing harm and adverse consequences due to errors in the testing process, which includes ordering the test, implementing the test, performing the test, reporting results to the clinician, clinician responding to the results, notifying the patient of the results and following up.

     One study reviewed the association between the type of testing error and the occurrence of adverse outcomes and found an important association across racial and ethnic groups. This research revealed that ERRORS based on test implementation were almost DOUBLE within minority groups in comparison with non-Hispanic Whites (32% as opposed to 18%). Overall, the study found minority patients were more likely to experience an adverse event. The study revealed that minority patients are THREE times more likely to experience an adverse event due to the testing process than a White patient.
     OKAY. I'm Black. What else is working against me? Oh Yeah, I'm a woman. The THIRD thing that matters in healthcare is SEX.

    A study at Johns Hopkins University found that emergency room doctors commonly miss strokes among women, minorities, and patients under age forty-five. Unfortunately, each year “doctors overlook or discount the early signs of potentially disabling strokes in tens of thousands of Americans.” Of those overlooked, women, minorities, and younger patients are disproportionately sent home, despite complaints of dizziness or headaches. Additional research has found that WOMEN under the age of fifty-five were almost SEVEN times more likely than men in the same age group to be sent home from the hospital in the middle of experiencing certain heart problems. The results of these studies suggest that race and gender, whether implicitly or explicitly, may play a role in how physicians decide who to treat and who to send home. 

    Not only have doctors, scientists and researchers mostly been WHITE MEN, but most of the cells, animals, and humans studied in medical science have also been MALE: most of the advances we have seen in medicine have come from the study of MALE biology. Dr Janine Austin Clayton, an associate director for women’s health research at the United States National Institutes of Health (NIH), told the New York Times that the result is: “We literally know less about every aspect of FEMALE biology compared to male biology.” Diseases presenting DIFFERENTLY in women are often missed or misdiagnosed, and those affecting mainly women remain largely a mystery: understudied, undertreated and frequently misdiagnosed or undiagnosed.

    Historically, medical education and research have been MALE-focused, specifically on the WHITE gendered male. Within medicine there exists a foundation of research conducted on the White gendered male, with the assumption that this data could simply be extrapolated to women and other racial and ethnic minorities. Research has also found physicians and medical institutions fail to offer equitable, unbiased, appropriate medical care for women. One reason for this failure is the presumption that women are “overly emotional.” Within our culture, women have long suffered from unfair stereotypes and dismissal of their concerns as hysteria or emotion, according to MEDICAL ERROR AND VULNERABLE COMMUNITIES by PHOEBE JEAN-PIERRE.

    So it is not so much about BAD DOCTORS, it's about understanding you are ENTITLED to competent healthcare by professional competent doctors who treat you with decency. If you FEEL, BELIEVE you are not being listened to or dismissed, do not continue to see that particular doctor. I know when it is an emergency, whatever doctor is in the emergency room is who you are going to see. But, there is a patient advocate you can request to speak with if you believe you are being treated less than and you can request to be seen by another doctor. Shop around for a primary care provider who is not overloaded with patients and imforms you to YOUR satisfaction regarding your treatments.

    I have decided to ditch the WHITE MALE DOCTOR. They never give me pain medication, they rush in and out of the room, and do have a tendency to dismiss my symptoms or give referals to departments that MAY be able to clear up my concerns.

    I just got tired of it all and after being so upset after a doctor's visit that I 100% believe I got COVID. I had to make a change.

 

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