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I am tired. (Two workouts a day, plus work, will do that to ya.)
I am happy. (Two workouts a day will do that to me. This is like a sports camp vacation-- all I have to do is work. Wow, I will never complain about working 40 hours again. (This is a blatant lie. Of course I will. But right now, I have a full but nonstressful schedule. Niiiice.)
Last, I am usually starving. (Oh yeah, I forgot that's what happens with two workouts a day. Duh. ;-)
And I live in chronic pain land. The PT clinic I work at has a very successful practice treating chronic back pain patients (who more than likely have been through painkillers, MDs, chiropractic, and other physical therapists before they get to us). My clinic combines intensive, specific traction (like, 20 treatments worth) with biomechanical correction physical therapy (and it's funky, but I know darn well it works, because it works on ME, thanks). It works. People see results.
So. I have been a chronic pain patient, dang it, and I know how chronic pain can take over your life and define your identity. I know how whiny, detailed, and narcissistic chronic pain patients can be about their pain.... especially to the health care provider who treats that pain.
Now, it's different. Now I have to listen to them tell me all about it. Lord grant me patience, because surely I belong on the listening end of this equation for a while. (Studies have shown that doctors tend to listen to patients talk about their symptoms for an average of 90 seconds before cutting them off, but if the doctor listens until the patient is done and then says, "Is there anything else you came to see me about?" the patient recites symptoms for an average of four minutes. (Doctors, when asked, believe the patient will go on for an hour or so.)
I used to think doctors were irrational jerks, but now I know why this is: As the person on the listening end of the "Tell me why you came to see me today," discussion, you hear EVERYTHING the patient thinks might be helpful to you (90% of which is not helpful in the slightest-- and some of which, like constipation, is way TMI). If it's a chronic pain patient (or an otherwise longstanding problem like fibromyalgia), you hear a detailed history along with that. No matter where you are in the discussion, the flow of information seems to have no end.
I had three conversations like that today. By the end of the third one, I had to retreat to the break room and breathe deeply. Patience. Lord grant me patience. That irritating patient means the world to someone out there, and has value and accomplishments I never see. Patience, Gail, right now. Ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....
I am happy. (Two workouts a day will do that to me. This is like a sports camp vacation-- all I have to do is work. Wow, I will never complain about working 40 hours again. (This is a blatant lie. Of course I will. But right now, I have a full but nonstressful schedule. Niiiice.)
Last, I am usually starving. (Oh yeah, I forgot that's what happens with two workouts a day. Duh. ;-)
And I live in chronic pain land. The PT clinic I work at has a very successful practice treating chronic back pain patients (who more than likely have been through painkillers, MDs, chiropractic, and other physical therapists before they get to us). My clinic combines intensive, specific traction (like, 20 treatments worth) with biomechanical correction physical therapy (and it's funky, but I know darn well it works, because it works on ME, thanks). It works. People see results.
So. I have been a chronic pain patient, dang it, and I know how chronic pain can take over your life and define your identity. I know how whiny, detailed, and narcissistic chronic pain patients can be about their pain.... especially to the health care provider who treats that pain.
Now, it's different. Now I have to listen to them tell me all about it. Lord grant me patience, because surely I belong on the listening end of this equation for a while. (Studies have shown that doctors tend to listen to patients talk about their symptoms for an average of 90 seconds before cutting them off, but if the doctor listens until the patient is done and then says, "Is there anything else you came to see me about?" the patient recites symptoms for an average of four minutes. (Doctors, when asked, believe the patient will go on for an hour or so.)
I used to think doctors were irrational jerks, but now I know why this is: As the person on the listening end of the "Tell me why you came to see me today," discussion, you hear EVERYTHING the patient thinks might be helpful to you (90% of which is not helpful in the slightest-- and some of which, like constipation, is way TMI). If it's a chronic pain patient (or an otherwise longstanding problem like fibromyalgia), you hear a detailed history along with that. No matter where you are in the discussion, the flow of information seems to have no end.
I had three conversations like that today. By the end of the third one, I had to retreat to the break room and breathe deeply. Patience. Lord grant me patience. That irritating patient means the world to someone out there, and has value and accomplishments I never see. Patience, Gail, right now. Ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....
