Tinhuviel Artanis

Sorry for the misspellings, but when you're out of your head with pain, that's kinda what happens.

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Your Review View business Between Scripps H. and Tracy E. Back to your inbox Tracy E. Tracy E. San Diego, CA 27 4 Your review of Scripps Mercy Hospital San Diego 1.0 star rating 6/16/2016 I've had a migraine for 5 days. The third night, after two visits to this hellhole, I tried to hangng myself because the pain was so bad and I just wanted it to end. Almost succeeded. These people are a joke. If you are in pain, even severe, they treat you like a criminal junkie. The only thing that helps my migraine is 2 mg of injected dilaudid (pill form come back i\up because of nausea and vomiting). All they gave me was toradol (when I told them it doesn't work, phernergan (which gives me severe restless legs, and reglan to counteract the phengern. I did get some sleep for the first time in days, but I woke up myself up pooping on myelf. excessively, and still had the migraine. Turns out reglan causes massive diahrrea. So I had to clean myself up, after no food for days, still with the worst migraine ever. Decided to go to out of network and went to Sharp. They gave me my shot, and after 2 hours, no pain. Screw Scripps. Their title "MERCY' is in oxymoron. They'd rather have people suffer and even commit suicide than risk an addition. DON'T GO HERE. If you have a network that accepts only this, go out of network until you can find a decent medical network that doesn't treat you like a lying piece of trash.

"Scripps H. Scripps H. Manager Block & Report Owner Scripps H.'s comment on your review: Hello, Tracy, Thank you for taking the time to review your experience. We are happy to hear you are no longer in pain. It is our mission to provide the highest quality service and medical care to our patients and we are sorry your experience at Mercy San Diego did not meet these standards. We value your feedback and would like to learn more. If you are interested in speaking to a patient advocate, please respond to our private message. We appreciate your time and look forward to speaking with you directly. Sincerely, Your friends at Scripps Scripps H. Scripps H. Manager One hour ago Block & Report Owner Hi, Tracy, Thank you again for reviewing your recent experience at Scripps Mercy Hospital San Diego. We understand your concerns and would appreciate the opportunity to learn more and help, if possible. To speak with a patient advocate, please reply to this message with your full name and phone number; an advocate will reach out directly. Of course we understand not everybody wishes to have further communication, and if that's the case, we respect your decision. Whatever your choice, please know we value your feedback and have already shared your review with management. We wish you good health and a great weekend. - Your friends at Scripps

Tracy E. Tracy E. San Diego, CA 27 4 52 minutes ago What do you mean I am no longer in pain? I had to go back to my PCP who did did little to help me until I can get into pain management. I'll most likely have to visit SHARP again before I get to see the doctor on Friday, at $75 a pop, which I DON'T have. You wasted me five pairs of panties from explosive diarrhea, did NOTHING for my pain, gave me medication I said did not work and will probably charge my insurance for it, probably "prayed" for me, like so-called mercy-givers do, gave me not only restless legs but restless body from from the phenergen. Do you know what it's not like to not be able to stop moving when you have a severe migraine? My doctor couldn't even get blood from me today because I am so dehyadrated from not being able to hold anything down. I TRIED TO HANG MYSELF THREE DAYS AGO BECAUSE I COULDN'T TAKE THE PAIN ANYMORE. Unfornunately, I did not succeed. When my enrollment period comes up, I'm going to try to get as a far away from SCRIPPS "MERCY" as possible. I don't know why you're congratulating yourself for helping me with my migraine, but it was SHARP who did it, NOT YOU. And I'll probably have to go back to them before Friday, so thanks for exacerbating my poverty. Right now, I would LITERALLY DIE than darken your medaeival doors again. If your definition of mercy comes out of the middle ages, perhaps you should rethink your line of work because, right now, you're costing people sanity, sleep, relief, and EVEN LIFE. You're not my friend. If my head begins to feel it explodes, I'm coming to you, just so you get to feel the nice warm goodness of my untreated headache. I hate you.

I started writing this post around 1 or 2 this morning. The drunker I got on the Stadol combined with the sleepier I was gettng, the scarier this post became. I've decided) not to change anything.  If my Cliffs is gonna stay and always be true, it means to keep the Stadol-inebriated in put just as openly as all my sober and sobering journal entries.  Besides, with a migraine, I don't think I had much of a choice.  To everyone who cares about me and is concerned enough to respond to some of the posts I've made when refocusing my journal bones so that the Cliffs won't die with me under them, having atrophied myself from writing to such a degree, I couldn't get out of the way in time enough ~ I want to thank you. Even though I may not respond to the kindness I most assuredly don't deserve from you guys, never ever think I don't appreciate what you're saying or what it is you are saying. The reason why I don't say anything back to you is that you've stricken me literally speechless out of gratitude for your kindnesses and I truly am dumbstruck by what anyone has taken the time to say.

Tracy Angelina Evans @Tinhuviel

Stadol helps get rid of your headache by using the tried and true method of preventing your even realising you have a head to hurt.

Everyone has way so much time to juggle. I'm the least of anyone's concerns; yet, you take your time for me...after all these months of my being silent.

I just wanted to thank you all. To show you how much I appreciate each and everyone of you. To let you know that I've been reading you, even though I haven't had anything of worth to say. My world my have changed, and I may have become a bit more verbose than I have in quite some time, but the things that never changed is that I never forget any of you, and never stopped reading you ~~ I never ever stopped reading you.

So thank you.
For everything.
Thank you.
it hasn't taken me
In the meantime, I'm taking the method of focusing on one subject per each journal post. I've been encouraged to just write whatever it is that comes to me; but that's just a little too scattered for my taste. So what I'm doing is, I choose a subject, maybe a couple, and I focus on that ~ that's the one

It may be of extreme interest that it has taken me about a day to commit this information to the proverbial pend and paper to telly. For the past conscious hours, I may have to been trying to struggle one line of proser to paper with obviously underwhelming success. I'm gonna give up to the inevitable for the next little while because each grammatical faux pas makes us look ever more ominouwsskt teutohidl Ig; Higglddf as ak.

Do not ask me what that means.  That Viking in the JG Wentworth commercial might know, but I don't.

Today (yesterday now so, if any of this sounds ridiculous, it's because I've been awake for 24 hours as of..right...now~!), I got to see my favourite doctor, Dr. Pilch! Why is he my favourite? Because he's bloody gorgeous, that's why! Well, that and he's tending the brain I got from Abby Normal with the best bedside manner I've ever encountered in a doctor, surpassing even that of my old orthopedic surgeon. This was my normal three-month follow-up visit with my neurologist, whom I've been seeing since last July when I quite unexpectedly had a seizure, not that you often schedule seizures. Suffice to say I'd never had a seizure prior to the one I enjoyed last year and I haven't had one since. In addition to trying to figure out why I had the seizure, Dr. Pilch has gotten the extra added joy of pondering my imponderable insomnia and ponderously pounding head. On Thursday, he got to add black-outs to the laundry list of noodle issues. Only recently has this begun and, lucky for Dr. Pilch, it began right before I was scheduled to see the good (looking) doctor.

Once I was called back by the nurse, I told her what had been going on and she took diligent notes, because she's a very diligent nurse. She told me that Dr. Pilch would be in shortly and to try to be comfy. I thanked her and proceeded to wonder why it was all chairs in doctors offices and exam rooms were the least comfortable on the planet, with the exception of the dentist's chair. And that's simply black humour right there because, really, where can a person be least comfortable but a dentist's chair? If it were any less like a La-Z-Boy, the dentist would have to scrape his patients from the ceiling before any given exam or, at least that's how it'd be with me. I could be given a Tempurpedic mattress and a hookah brimming with opium, and still be chew-a-hole-in-the-world-with-my-ass nervous while at the dentist's, and my dentist caters to cowards!

But I digress. After giving up trying to be comfortable in the exam room, I began to read the latest issue of Neurology Today, which isn't as interesting as Psychology Today but, since I didn't have that and my only other option was Southern Living, Neurology Today was the winner of the day. In the back of the magazine was a mini-article featuring the ongoing adventures of Migraine Chick. The two strips featured in the article had me har-dee-har-harring as much from woeful familiarity as from the full-on hilarity of the illustrations.

This was one of them:


About the time I was finishing up writing her URL down on my hand, in walked Dr. Pilch. He looked at me as if to say, "You're writing on yourself. I'm a neurologist. Perhaps you need a psychologist instead. And then the moment passed and he was all smiles and sweetness because he's that good (looking).

Now, on the best of days, speaking with a neurologist is always fodder for the Theatre of the Absurd. Dr. Pilch began to look over the notes his nurse had taken, and he asked me about the black outs. I told him that they seemed to be very brief and I never fully lost consciousness, so they weren't like the seizure I had.

"Do you know how long they lasted?"

"Not very long. It's not like I had missing time, or was abducted by aliens or anything."

::wry grin from the dee-lec-table doc:: "So what did you see?"

"Uhm...black?"

"And when you came around, were you confused as to your whereabouts or who you were?"

"No more so than usual, doc."

::another wry grin:: I love his grin. He is a hotteh, my brain doctor.

"I see you're not sleeping as well as you were the last time we saw one another."

"No, 'fraid not."

"And the migraines are worse?"

"Yeah, 'fraid so."

"Do you think the black-outs have anything to do with these other factors?"

"You tell me doc. I have a faulty brain and am unsure of my capacity to think clearly."

Yeah, I was being a bit of a smart-ass, but not in a snarky way; rather, more in a playful please for to allow me to molest you on your uncomfortable furniture way. Or, if you need to be more comfortable, my dentist is right down the road. We can turn off the drill...and the lights...and.... But I digress.

"Well, I think that, even though you say you've actually been sleeping better this week, the crux of your problems lies in your body being unable to maintain a recognisable sleep pattern. I see we've tried a number of different treatment methods and have ruled out sleep apnea. The Klonopin was working well for you until we doubled your anti-depressant, so what I want to do is add a 1/2 milligram of Klonopin to your 1 mg at night. If we can jumpstart your sleeping pattern, maybe your body will be able to grasp it and go from there in healing itself. I think your migraines will diminish as a result as well; however, if you have any more black-outs, I don't want you to wait until I see you again in December. I want you to call me immediately. We may end up having to do another electroencephalogram."'

"Meh, not another one of those..."

"Well, it's been a year since we tested you. Better to be safe than sorry and, who knows, maybe something will turn up in a new one that couldn't be seen in the last one. Let's hold off on that for now, though. I know your funds are limited, so I want to try to treat the underlying cause of all this before we go crazy and hook you up to the electrodes again. In the meantime, you're still on the Paxil, Relpax and Lortab as needed for migraine, and the magnesium?"

"Affirmative, Doc."

"Okay, let's see how things go with the 1.5 mg of Klonopin. Hopefully, this will take care of the insomnia, which will help with the migraines and all associated symptoms of those including, I'm betting the black-outs. But, like I said," and he waggled his finger at me, which is fine with me since he's my elder (and I always respect my elders, especially those of the irresistible kind), "any more episodes and we're going ahead with the EEG immediately, okay?"

"Anything you say, you tasty morsel of medical mayhem! Oh...you got it Doc!" I sure hope that first bit was my internal voice remaining....internal. If not, though, I can always blame faulty hardwiring of the brain and ask him for some special attention in that grievous matter. To satisfy his curiosity, Dr. Pilch asked me about my writing on myself. I explained to him about Migraine Chickie and I showed him the comic strips at the back of Neurology Today. He took the mag and studied the strips for a few moments and, O so very slowly, his face split into one of the prettiest smiles I've ever seen on a person (and, yes, men can have pretty smiles just like women can have handsome ones!). Not just that, no no; Dr. Pilch then began to chuckle lowly.

"Forgive me. I know it's not right to laugh at something from which a patient of yours is suffering, but...this is really quite funny! Please don't take offense."

"None taken! I was cackling at these right before you came in, so I'm right there with you, Dr. Pilch (and on you like a cheap suit, if given a shred of a hint of a whisper of a chance in hell)."

The good (looking) doctor stopped and sized me up, saying, "You know, that's a very good attitude you have there. When it comes to medicine, one can never underestimate the therapeutic benefits of a good chuckle."

Those were his words exactly. And here's hoping the good (looking) doctor is right because, if he is, I'm already cured of everything. Since that's obviously not the case (I would have otherwise slept last night), maybe another electroencephalogram is in order which, given my newfound association with head electrodes, will certainly push me over the edge of hilarity and into "The doctor gave me a pill and I grew a new kidneh!"-ville.

For folks who came to this journal after August 2005, the Pit refers to my previous place of employment, what was once called BMG Entertainment, but later became Sony BMG. My Friend Todd still works for them. That's actually how we met, working at what was then known as the RCA Music Service way back in 1987.

Anyway, he forwarded this Billboard news article to me. I called him as soon as I got the email to see where this leaves him. He doesn't know because the weasels who run the company aren't talking. They're pretty much doing what they did back in 2004, keeping their lips closed for as long as they can in order to maintain control of what few employees they have left up until the very end when these wage slaves are no longer needed.

Apparently, the club portion of the industry (buy fortyleven CDs for a penny and give your souls to us, that club, dig?) has already been sold. This means that the folks in the last remaining Duncan warehouse are all out of a job pretty much. At least that's how it seems to be going down. I hope I'm mistaken about this, but I don't think so. Of course, no one in the halls of power will lose their jobs, just the "little people" who actually need their jobs and the insurance that comes along with them.

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I spent yesterday in the emergency room holding my head in my lap after it fell off and rolled away. clumsycake came to the house, picked up my head, and drove me to the ER. I loves me some clumsycake. The first thing they did when they got me to the triage room was ask about insurance. Now, they can't refuse treatment to people who have no insurance, but they sure as hell harass you after the fact.

The doctor came in and shown light in my eyes. After I grabbed him by the collar and shook him to and fro for doing such a horrible thing to a person with a migraine, he ordered me up a migraine injection comprised of a cocktail of nubain and phenergin. The nurse came in shortly afterward, injected a half gallon of liquid into my hiney, reattached my head, and sent me home to die.

I told a lady at work today that, when the hospital sends me the bill, I'm forwarding it to Dubya. The bastich can afford to pay it much more easily than I, who can't pay it at all at the mo. His policies and evil deeds are the reason why I can't afford a visit to the ER and probably why my migraines have increased in severity and frequency anyway. Bastich.... We hates him, Precious. Hates. Him.