The Battle Rages

Some of the meetings I have with medical professionals can wear me down to a nub. Today I spent two hours being grilled by an Occupational Therapist. Here in Alberta her role with AHS is essentially to ensure I have the equipment I need, and only the equipment I need, to ensure I live a safe and secure life. She determines what I need by extensive interviewing, physically examining my body's abilities, and by observing a small amout of what I actually do in my day.

The OC I deal with is strongly driven by her role, very opinionated about what someone in my position should be doing. She is also a very poor listener, with little time for what I feel is best for me. After all, I am just the client, with very limited knowledge of what's out there and how I might use it. She, on the other hand, knows everything necessary, including how to keep everybody else happy within the system, but not me.

Her big deal today was my bed. She is adamant that I need to replace my queen sized bed with a small hospital bed. Notwithstanding prior discussions along with a letter from my doctor stating that a standard sized hospital bed would be too small for me, she maintains I need a hospital bed so that my caregivers don't have to walk so far to get from one side of the bed to the other. Notwithstanding my firm desire to maintain my existing headboard and foot board, or at least as much of my existing bed as possible, she insists that another piece of hospital gear in my life would be the best thing for me.

For almost two hours the discussion went on. Not just about hospital beds, but about other equipment which could make life easier for me. My ALS Society Case worker was here along with her, yet she involved him in only the smallest part of the discussion, where she had asked him to bring some specially designed spoons to make it easier for me to eat. I kept one, but I doubt I will use it. Beyond that I suspect he was here to back her up in her whole bed discussion. After all, if I was to have it, the ALS Society would have to purchase it. He said very little. We talked after she left. I got the distinct feeling he agreed with her thoughts, but most certainly not her interaction style.

It all wore me out. After a two hour interrogation, I needed a nap, a long nap. I'm still tired. I don't feel like making dinner. It's all a bit too much sometimes.