Ways the VA Healthcare Program is Hurting Local Veterans

            Prior to moving to the Durango, Colorado area, I had been enrolled in what is called the Choice Program, which provides military veterans, as well as their dependents, to obtain care from community resources that are not provided through the VA system. This is the system I used to receive services such as rheumatology, gastroenterology, and dermatology. For the most part, this system helped to provide me with the resources I require to tend to my health needs. Sure, the physicians and specialists could have just as well been military doctors, as I received the same quality of care from them...and that is not saying much, considering my previous experience with military doctors, but I digress.

            When I had my initial appointment with my new primary care provider, I was told something that just came across as blatantly wrong. See, my doctor told me that my only options to see these types of specialists would be to drive nearly 4 hours each way to the large VA facility in Albuquerque, which is insane to suggest, or not see any specialists. Sure, they have a courtesy shuttle van that takes patients to the larger facility, but you must plan your day around the appointments of others, so you would either leave early, or must stay late, depending on the schedule for that day. The other option just was not feasible either, as I have a family history of colon and bone cancer, as well as having been diagnosed with a myriad of chronic pain conditions.

I live at a Level E on a daily basis, just for reference

            You know the saying “if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is?” Well, that is applicable to my situation, but rather replace “good” with “wrong” and you see where I am going with this, right? Well, when I met with the social worker at my local VA clinic, she repeated the same incorrect information regarding the Choice Program. She told me that, while there are services in town, such as support groups, there is little in the way of community resources that address symptoms. I can’t really go to a support group for my colonoscopy or endoscopy now, can I?

            My social worker also told me that I am my own advocate for my health, which is a phrase that she might be wishing she didn’t say. See, I thought that the information I was provided by not just one, but two medical professionals at my local VA clinic, sounded incorrect. Just in case though, I called the Choice Program directly, and boy, am I glad. The representative that I spoke with was just as befuddled by what I was told as I was when I heard it. It helped to put my mind at ease, knowing that I was correct about this program, as well as the fact that I would (hopefully) be able to see a provider here in the community, as my symptoms have increased since my last visit to the shoddy rheumatologist who reprimanded me for crying out in pain when he took a biopsy from my thigh at 5:30 in the morning, before I was fully numb. But again, I digress and that, along with the other numerous experiences I have had with military health officials and those covered by the Choice Program.

            So, here is my conundrum. Yes, I am my strongest advocate for both my mental and physical health. The soonest they could schedule me with a mental health professional (to address my depression, anxiety, PTSD, and MST) is the end of February, and even then, it would be only via tele-health. That falls outside of the 30 days or 30-mile rule that applies to the Choice Program (maybe not the distance, but certainly the time-frame). In the past, I have conveniently fallen through the VA health cracks, as it had taken me 18 months to even get an appointment with a rheumatologist, as the original request somehow got lost. I know that I am in the right and have a whole organization and website that provides me with the answers to help to support my position. I know that I am most likely not the only veteran in the area who has been fed this lie. However, I may be the only one to raise a little hell over the incorrect information that could have potentially affected the lives of a significant number of veterans living in the area.

            I have been known to let my emotions get the best of me, particularly when I know that I am in the right. This isn’t just relegated to my health, but also where we used to live, I have been physically threatened when I spoke up for the poor treatment of the dogs I would witness running in the street. As if it were my fault that I recognized this behavior as wrong and dangerous. I am not kidding. I wish I were. So, I need to come up with a game plan of sorts, as I know that I need to go into the clinic and let them know that they are wrong, that I qualify to see community providers that honor the Choice Program in the area. I know that other veterans have experienced this same type of treatment. The sooner the better, but, dude, I am not looking forward to it. I just need to keep my cool, and remember why I am doing this...for the health of not only myself, but the countless veterans who have received the same misinformation. Sadly, I know that this not only applies to my local clinic, but the Portland, Oregon one too, as that is who contacted me to set up my appointment for the tele-health mental health sessions...I was told that since they can provide me with the tele-health services, then I don’t qualify for community care. Well, that is not true either.

Uprooting and Stress: Is There a Better Way?

Imagine this with explosive diarrhea

     

Nature's Pain Relief

       Dude. I don’t even know where to start. It has been such a whirlwind and at times it feels as if I am barely hanging on, fingers about to slip into the swirling vortex of stress, anxiety, and, at times, depression. Fun times, right? Let’s not forget about the physical effects of this emotional turmoil, as I live with fibromyalgia and small fiber neuropathy, which can be aggravated by stress. Good thing I am not stressed, right? Oh, and diverticulitis and IBS are also affected by stress, so we’re over here playing naked Twister, trying not to soil ourselves. Great visual, right?            

So, how did we get here? Trees and heat. Seriously. See, I am not a fan of the heat and grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, where the use of air conditioners was not something that was common, as the fog would often roll in, working as Mother Nature’s air conditioning. I currently live in the desert. Sure, there are some trees, but nothing like I lived among in the Pacific Northwest, where I was living prior to moving to Texas, then New Mexico. Fortunately, I work from home, so as long as I have an internet connection and WiFi, I’m good. Well, my boyfriend has been putting in for jobs with his company in various states, but all of which had cooler weather and either medicinal or recreational marijuana. Those were our main criteria.

Animals are friends for life. Not disposable. Not ours to eat or breed.

            Fast forward a few months and DING-DING-DING, we are bound for Durango, Colorado. Oh, and his supervisor wants him there in about two weeks. TWO WEEKS. TWO. MOTHERFUCKING. WEEKS. Not a problem. Let’s just work on finding a place, packing up all of our belongings, including our dogs, a turtle, and fish (because we are not the kind of people who put dogs up on Craigslist for “free” because they are moving to a new place that doesn’t allow pets), and move to another state in two weeks. Simple, right? Fuck.

            So, in order to ensure that we are not homeless once we arrive in Durango, we took a trip up there. Leaving a little before 5am and getting back after 10pm, it was a long day. But, we met with a realtor who showed us a place that we had been talking with the current tenant and landlord. Everything was going well until Monday morning, today, when I received an email from the current tenant, who stated that the landlord was not satisfied with our background check (namely my credit report), and as such, we would not be considered further for the house that we wanted to rent. Hopes? Dashed to smithereens. My heart sank.

Guaranteed to make you feel sexy as hell

            Perhaps my mood to hearing that we wouldn’t be able to rent the house we looked at was intensified due to an event that occurred earlier in the day. I have been having terrible post nasal drip for the past few months. It got to the point where I physically collapsed several times, hitting my head on a hard surface a few times due to becoming very lightheaded while trying to clear my throat of stuff that can only be described as having the consistency of cold molasses. I finally conceded to go to our local VA health clinic, where they gave me a shot of an anti inflammatory and prescriptions to the EXACT SAME FUCKING THING I HAD BEEN TAKING. Same dose. They then told me to come back into the clinic within the following week if I am not feeling better.

Not so Breaking News

Well, I am not feeling better, so I went back to the VA clinic this morning, prior to hearing the news about the place. Good thing too, as I would have probably been placed on a 5150 hold and unable to do the things I need to do in regards to the move, school, and work. After filling out the triage form, I took a seat and waited to be called back to be seen. That would not happen today, as a nurse (?) called me up to the window and told me that they can’t see me anymore since I had been referred out via the Choice program and had a civilian primary care provider now. Well, I saw that person once, for about five minutes, and she didn’t listen to me at all during that time. I was also told the previous week to return to the clinic location if I wasn’t feeling better. See the frustration?

Not actual house

So, we’re back to square one, looking for a place to live, while residing in a different state, seven hours away. We have expanded our search radius. I didn’t want to, as it snows there and my boyfriend will have to drive in the snow, which is why I wanted to be relatively close to his work, which is in Durango. We will be filling out more applications. One place looks like a murder house, but it’ll do for now, as the owner will be fixing it up more come the warmer months and then put it up for rent for a much higher price I presume.

You can donate by hitting the word PayPal

I am not one to ask for help lightly. I often pride myself on my ability to do things all by myself. However, I am not sure I will be able to maintain my sanity without a little help. I have been diagnosed with a number of chronic pain conditions, which are intensified by stress. I am trying to keep myself together, as the next month will be very stressful. If possible, if you feel so inclined, I have set up a link via PayPal if you would like to help me to maintain some sanity while we go through this stressful time. My boyfriend’s company isn’t providing any relocation assistance, so it’s just us, our savings, and rescues. After we get settled in the new place, wherever that may be, I will be working on my mental and physical health, finishing up my last course towards my MS degree in Clinical Psychology with a specialization in Applied Research, and hopefully able to breathe once again.

Thank you for reading and feel free to share this post with others 😀 

Funky Mon(k)ey

            Do you ever start a day and it goes well for a few minutes, then it all, just, changes? Yeah, that was me yesterday morning. My allergies have progressively gotten worse, now both at night and during the day. Postnasal drip. That feeling that you just need to either continuously clear your throat or sacrifice a virgin to the allergy overlords. I was able to take three of our dogs for their walks and strip the bed to wash the linens. However, the annoyance level increased when it came time to walk the last dog. She just did not want to budge. Her dad was off today, so his car was in the driveway. Princess, who most certainly lives up to her name, loves riding in the car more than walks. However, she (and I) needs to exercise. We tried four times to go for her walk, but as soon as we walked past her dad’s car, she just put the brakes on and just would not move.

            I do not know why that annoys me so much, but it just puts me in a mood. A funk. Well, that, combined with my allergies make me a right cunt sometimes. So, what’s the remedy if I can’t go to bed and call a do-over on my morning? Put some treats in a large Kong toy and watch my OG Peggy Sue try to get the treats out. I picked up this toy yesterday at a thrift store and it turns out to be the best $3 that I have ever spent on a dog toy. So far, my OG, who is the oldest out of our dogs, is the best at figuring it out. It’s fun to watch.

            See, you don’t need to spend a lot of money to find some happiness, it can be found in watching a dog gleefully explore a new toy from the thrift store! Too often we try to buy things in an attempt at finding happiness, when, in reality, the saying, money can’t buy happiness, carries much weight. Why not look inside to identify what is the real underlying issue, rather than shelling out money in an expensive, and often fruitless, attempt at finding happiness? Yes, it takes motivation, dedication, and perseverance. However, the outcome is, well, happiness (duh!) and a cut back in unnecessary spending. Which would you prefer?

Fireworks and PTSD

As the fireworks light up the sky, millions of people gazing upwards towards the beauty. However, while watching fireworks may be a tradition enjoyed by generations of families, there is another side of this event that strikes fear into both animals and people. Imagine getting the feelings associated with fight or flight every time a firework is launched into the air or makes loud sonic booms. That is my life. However, it was not always like this, as I recall watching the performances put on by the local government in the Bay Area, as well as in New York, where I watched the lights from aboard a 41 foot Coast Guard small boat, with the lights illuminating the sky around the Statue of Liberty. But that is not my reality now.

I think I can trace my switch in attitude regarding fireworks to 9/11. You see, I was stationed in Boston at the time of the attacks, and still remember working in Aux I space of a 270 foot cutter (I was a machinery technician in my previous life), when someone lowered the hatch on the space I was working. This was due to the threat of imminent attack due to our proximity. I hurried through the scuttle opening, making my way to the mess deck where the images of New York filled the large projection TV. As we made our way back to our shop (I was part of the Naval Engineering Support Unit), I decided that I would tell my chief that if they needed anyone, I wanted to go to New York. Not long after that, I was on my way, along with a handful of guys I was stationed with, to New York. Nobody knew exactly what the process was going to be or where we would be working. That was an experience that I will never forget.

The huge booms that accompany fireworks trigger the part of my brain where I either need to go find the source, or run like hell. Hence the term “fight or flight.” This is my reality. Loud sounds, including backfires from cars, if someone drops something and it makes a loud sound, and, yes, fireworks. Although I have never been screened for or diagnosed with PTSD, I am quite familiar with the symptoms, both from my personal experiences, as well as from the work I have done in my graduate studies on the topic. 

Although I have worked on it, I am in the fight or flight mode much of the time. This is tiring and the excessive adrenaline that has no outlet is exhausting. Combine this with my chronic pain condition and other issues (there’s a long list, but I am currently rated at 30% disability through the military), and it truly wreaks havoc on my body and mind. See, this is what a sizable segment of the population feels when people light off the fireworks they buy from those tents that seem to show up each year around New Year’s and the 4th of July a week or two before these holidays. That means that for four weeks out of the year (1/12th of the year), there are fireworks going off sporadically, triggering an even higher level of anxiety. It’s fucking exhausting.

It is not just people, like me, who are affected by these events, but animals as well. Our dogs get anxious, which, in turn, increases my anxiety. Fireworks can also trigger panic in wildlife, such as birds and squirrels. This can lead to the mothers abandoning their children and causing them to become too disoriented to return to their babies. Squirrels, small mammals, birds, bees, and butterflies have also been observed to display behavior that is detrimental to their health and life due to these fireworks. Additionally, when people don’t clean up their messes after they light off fireworks, it can cause death in animals due to ingesting the debris.

This morning, after getting restless sleep due to the sporadic fireworks going off, I got up and started our dog walks, which consists of about 3.5 miles. I knew from previous holidays, particularly Halloween, the people in my area are slobs. So, being armed with this knowledge, I set out on our first walk with a garbage bag in hand, as well as the leash. By the time I got back home, it was full. No, not just full, but overflowing. That was just one walk. On the second walk, I picked up even more debris and reunited two wayward dogs with their sad excuse of a person. If I return your dogs, save your “I’m sorry” aimed at me, as you really need to apologize to your dogs for being such a horrible, thoughtless person, especially when I find out that this was the second time today that the dogs escaped and they are not wearing collars.

So, in short, be considerate. Don’t be a dick. Pick up after yourself. Have some compassion and empathy, as people, such as your neighbors, might be fighting an internal battle that they try to hide so well.

Pardon me, I have to go and medicate myself now. #puffpuffpass