South Buffalo Mercy Is a Joke

This is a long one, folks. Be warned.


Last night found itself #1 on my list of 'Most Humiliating Experiences Ever' when I found myself facing off with a skinny little doctor with no bedside manner and an understanding of emergency care that went beyond my experience in the health field.

You see, at Mercy Hospital in South Buffalo, New York, if you don't have health insurance and you're fat, this doctor doesn't give a crap about your symptoms. Your medical history and symptoms aside- you just need to lose weight because other people are in line with more important reasons for being there.

First off, I'm not so much overweight that I have to push two folding chairs together just to accommodate my rear. I can sleep comfortably in a single bed. Yes, a /single/ bed. Heck, my kids' toddler bed doesn't even protest much when I sit on the edge to pull a shirt over 4 little heads in succession. That's saying a lot considering the bed is years old, and purchased from a thrift shop for $7. (that's USD, folks).

So, what's up? Why did this doctor tick me off so bad that by the time I was finished writing him a map on where to go, he was sure to have an inkling that his outfit was far too warm for the destination I had in mind? Language barrier aside- (this guy was from somewhere far to the East, not going to insult anyone by trying to guess where, but he was Asian with a heavy accent)- you can be sure that he understood my final “F* off, you little pr*” before I walked out.

Ok, so I do curse, but at home. I get very uncomfortable and roll my eyes when I hear people talking nasty in public. For one thing, I don't poo in public toilets and cursing while out is the same to me as taking a sh* in public view. It's foul and shows a lack care for your fellow man. To get me to go off and pepper in colorful metaphors while speaking to someone I would otherwise respect-in a place where others could hear and see- you've managed to do something. He should get an award.

For the past week, my face has been flushing a bright red when I eat. Doesn't matter what, if it goes into my mouth I get a hot, uncomfortable mask. As I write this, I can feel it starting and today I've only had a cup of coffee. In 2007, my gallbladder was removed in an emergency surgery and ever since, there have been a few things happening. 1) When I drink even a tiny amount of alcohol, I get this flush. 2) I can't lose any weight.

The weight thing is common in GB removals. The surgeons and doctors tell you that weight loss is what happens- all it takes is a simple search through Google to find many stories like mine. No matter what you do, there is a gain and no loss. You'd think otherwise, because the closest I can come to telling you what happens with a high fat meal to someone without a GB without taking this blog into total TMI land is:

Get yourself a box of chocolate flavored Ex-Lax. Pour into a blender with castor oil, milk, and blend well. Drink.

If I ate a high fat diet, I might as well use the above recipe every single day. No joke and I am not exaggerating for the benefit of humor. My family eats a diet full of vegetables, fruit, grains, and low fat protein. Chicken is our meat of choice, with ground turkey taking over regular hamburger quite often. When we use hamburger, it is washed after cooking with boiling water to remove grease.

Most of you who read this or read me anywhere else know that my mom is a diabetic. She's had quite a few problems. Through her I have learned to identify many symptoms of high blood glucose levels. When I started experiencing dizziness, nausea, rapid heart beat, facial flush, numbness, and confusion- I knew it was time to go to the E.R.- facial flush is one of the signs of diabetic ketoacidosis, a dangerous situation. So were the other symptoms I'd been experiencing for several days. Yesterday was the worst with the symptoms lasting from morning until last night at about 9 P.M., plus I took my blood glucose reading with a meter that my father in law had given me to keep track of it. 235 was the reading. Normal readings on someone without diabetes should always be between 80 and 140. One as high as mine on an empty stomach is a bad sign.

No one took my reading at the hospital. They acted like I was nuts to be keeping tabs on it, even though I explained about my family history and that I'd had gestational diabetes once. The fact that I knew the signs of high sugar from my mother living here and me being responsible for her care-taking her sugar levels, giving her insulin, and so on- had no bearing on my knowledge for these people.

After going through the Triage, eventually I was led to the back where I was sat on a gurney...in the hall. No room, just a hall with a curtain, the same beds they use for people who come in the ambulances to wait for an open room. The doctor came over after a few minutes and told me...no kidding...

“In the E.R. We look at people and decide who is severe and who is not important.”

What? My mother in law was sitting with me, and while she and I still aren't on the best terms, her mouth dropped open. He tells her to move back, then pulls a little curtain part of the way around us, listens to my breathing, asks me what my symptoms were (I guess he didn't pick up the paper from Triage or his desk), then asks how tall I was and how much I weighed. I told him. Then he tells me what my target weight was and that I should lose weight.

Newsflash, I have a mirror. Then he tells me to exercise. I told him I do, but by this time I'm getting agitated because he hasn't asked me anything about my symptoms, nor has he said a thing about my blood pressure which was high...then he makes a cardinal mistake. He tells me that even if he would do blood work and it showed diabetes or other problems- he would not prescribe me treatment and went on to say:

“You should watch what you eat.”

I look at this little SOB and tell him I do. That he has no idea of what I eat, so how can he tell me that. He gives me a nasty little smile and tells me he doesn't need to know, it was apparent.

APPARENT? I stood up and looked down at him and went off on a tirade like only I can when provoked by a self righteous individual with no tact and that thinks they know it all. I told him, in more colorful description than I did above...what I eat, and what he could do with himself. My mother in law wasn't sure what was going on until I ripped open the curtain and told her in no uncertain terms we were leaving and that the doctor could...well..I already told you what he could do.

So, basically, I don't know what's going on with me. I didn't find out nor will I in the next bit unless I can get to another hospital E.R., when the symptoms are at their worst. As a freelancer, I can't afford health insurance which means that I don't have a primary doctor and most hospitals are just going to think I want to get some drugs to sell. Anyone know the street value of insulin or maybe even medication for allergic reactions-if that's what's going on? Because I sure as hell don't.