How to Be Your Own Health Care Advocate

June 27, 2015October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / Leave a comment

I know I missed day 8 was a bit under the weather; my bad.

Day 9

Here is Day 9 of the My 500 Words Challenge! Our words carry weight. They can inspire and motivate others. Or they can teach us a thing or two. Today, use your words to educate others.

In my previous life I was a nurse. I can tell you the view from the other side of that profession is a daunting and sometimes frustrating experience. Particularly with all the changes in the health care system. When I began my nursing career, a patient care decisions were between the patient and the doctor.

Visits lasted longer than ten minutes. The physician genuinely seemed concerned and was eager to answer questions. Wake up sick, an appointment was usually available. Now, you’re lucky if you can get in to see your family physician within two months. Acutely, ill? The standard response is, “Go to the emergency room or your nearest urgent care center.” And, if you’re ill enough for hospital admission, it won’t be your physician who comes to see you or follow your care – nope it will be a Hospitalist!

Hospitalist may be very qualified, however, they are NOT, my physician. They don’t know my history. Of course, they can pull my records up in the new electronic medical record system, but they don’t know me. I am more than the computerized template of information and checklist. Talk about loss of continuity of care!

I have an autoimmune disease with chronic complications. There was a time I could call one of my physicians and discuss my health. He/she respected my opinion and when I disagreed with the treatment plan, was willing to talk. That has become a thing of the past.

In order to maintain control over my own care, I developed a system. After all, this is the only body I’m gonna have and I deserve not only to be heard, but to make sure my physicians are up to date.

In addition, every frigging time I go for a follow-up, labs, or other outpatient procedure, I’m required to answer the same damn questions and fill out the same stupid forms.

List all physicians seen since your last visit.

List all medications and allergies

List history of surgeries

When was the last time you had a mammogram, colonoscopy, blah, blah, blah.

I can’t remember what I did yesterday much less what I did last year, or longer. If you want to be informed and an active member of your healthcare team, I have a few recommendations.

Always take another person with you, especially if you’re facing tests results, potential bad news, or have a chronic or complicated history.
Maintain a universal medication sheet with immunizations, and allergies and carry a copy of it with you.
Make a list of all physicians, include the practice name, address, phone number, and fax number.
Universal Medication Form
Keep a list of previous surgeries, hospital admissions, and the year.
Keep a list of significant outpatient procedures: mammogram, bone density, colonoscopy, and other preventive procedures.
Request and keep a copy every test ordered for you; labs, x-rays, cat scan, MRI’s, etc. These are not routinely offered, but all you have to do is request a copy. I’ve provided easy to use forms, feel free to download. Here’s to health.
CLICK TO DOWNLOAD

CLICK TO DOWNLOAD

I’d love to hear from you. Talk to me, tell me your story. And, as always, you can follow me on Facebook at SheilaMGood and Twitter @cofcmom.

The Downward Trajectory of Life- How Not to Feel Irrelevant

June 24, 2015October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 4 Comments

Thanks Jeff for the prompt. This free-writing exercise for day 7 of my500words, brought out a bit of melancholy.

Photo courtesy of Google & feministcurrent.com

I wished someone had told me, five, ten, or twenty years ago how hard things get when you begin the downward trajectory of life. I will turn 62 in November and in terms of the average life span in the US, 62 is still young.

However, no one prepared me for becoming irrelevant. What I mean is, as we approach this time in our lives, our children are adults, many into mid-life and the grandchildren seem to be maturing faster than the weeds in my garden.

The children you once spoke to daily or weekly are now caught up in their own immediate families. Their schedules packed running one child to dance, the other to sports practice.

While they used to run situations or decisions by you, they no longer need to, having gained a fair amount of life experiences themselves. Now, they are the parent comforting, or giving out advice to a child. Problems once seemed only insurmountable if discussed with mom are now handled with a mature and steady mind.

As a parent, on the one hand, I’m thrilled they can do it themselves. After all, that’s what all the years of parenting were for, making them independent, strong individuals capable of dealing with the ups and downs of life. On the other hand, I miss being needed.

It’s not as if they don’t want my advice (Ok, maybe sometimes), but they don’t need it. I’ve done my job. All that’s left is to sit back and relax. If only it was that easy.

Day 7

Growing old can be very lonely. So, here are a few things I wished I’d known and even though, no one is asking, a little advice. Take it or leave it, but I hope you will at least consider it for the times ahead.

Cultivate a hobby, something you enjoy early on. It will keep your hands and mind busy when the days become longer.
Cultivate friends, many of them, paying special attention to those most loyal.
“Do for others as you would have them do unto you.” It isn’t just a Bible verse; it is a way of life and when honored will reap many rewards.
Be kind, but genuine. In this hectic world where everyone seems to wear their feelings on their sleeves, it is often difficult to stay the course when the road of values divide.
Learn to disagree, agreeably – silence and acquiescence will smother you as quickly as a soft pillow pressed upon your face. There is nothing worse than a disagreeable old person.
Give more than you take in relationships, time, and money. The benefits far out weigh dividends.
Learn to listen. Sometimes, all anyone needs is an ear.
Stay informed don’t lose your voice, it matters.
Stay active and honor your body. The years ahead will present challenges and the better prepared your body is; the better you will weather the storm.
Remember your father and mother. Check on them, call them, and ask the questions you want to ask now. There will come a time, when the answers are lost.

As a nurse, I understood the cycle of life. Much like the 3 act structure in a novel, we are born, live, and die. The second act is where all the exciting things happen. The third act of life brings resolution. Make it exciting all the way to end and have no regrets.

CAPTCHA, ReCAPTCHA, NoCAPTCHA, Please

June 24, 2015October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 6 Comments

Okay, some days are meant for stories, others for delving into important writer issues, or spouting off an opinion. Today, is bitching day. I’m annoyed to hell with Google. I admire their tenacity in combating spam and abuse. As a blogger, I sincerely appreciate the effort, but please for the love of God, get rid of the reCAPTCHA. You know, the little rectangle box that asks you to prove you’re not a robot by asking you to fill in distorted words, or pictures. Seriously?

Photo courtesy of simonkewin.co.uk & Google

Photo courtesy of Google

Do any of the geniuses at Google understand America is turning gray?

According to Forbes, “The gray wave has arrived. Since 2000, the senior population has increased 29% compared to overall population growth of 12%. The percentage of Americans in the senior set has risen from 12.4% to 14.1%, and their share of the population is projected to climb to 19.3% by 2030.”

And, what happens as we age? We can’t see!

“Beginning in the early to mid-forties, most adults may start to experience problems with their ability to see clearly at close distances.” American Optometric Association.

Google

You’ve got to be kidding me!!! What in those genius minds made them think requiring a visually challenged and aging population to place distorted words and pictures into boxes to prove they were not robots!

If you believe CAPTCHAS protect you from spammers, perhaps. But it’s also frustrating the bejesus out of your visitors to your site. Don’t believe me? Tim Allen of Moz wrote a great post in 2013, Having a CAPTCHA is killing Your Conversion Rate.

Although, CAPTCHA was designed as a user friendly system, a study conducted by Standford University showed otherwise.

The study found, on average:

71% can’t agree! That’s huge. Think of that in terms of visitors to your site. In fact, according to Moz, CAPTCHA’s became such a problem for Ticketmaster, in 2013 they stopped using it and went to another system.

I don’t want spammers screwing up the Cow Pasture Chronicles, anymore than the fortune 500 corporations or Amazon. But, I don’t want my readers and visitors frustrated and, therefore, discouraged from returning either. I want my site to be many things; welcoming, warm, thought-provoking, humorous, a resource for other writers, and a place people want to return time and again. For me, Cow Pasture Chronicles shall remain CAPTCHA free.

Google, I am NOT a robot! And, by the way has any of this nonsense worked with China? Hmmm?

What do you think about reCAPTCHA’s? Do you hate them as much as I do? Have you ever given up and left a site because you couldn’t fill the damn thing out correctly?I’d love to hear from you. Talk to me. Tell me your story. You can follow me on Facebook at SheilaMGood and Twitter @cofcmom.

Book of Betrayal

June 23, 2015October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 2 Comments

Photo courtesy of http://www.silverquill.net & Google

Sorry for the late start today. Here is my500 Word Challenge contribution for Day 6

His aftershave lingered with Jackie as she pulled on her robe and followed the smell of coffee down the stairs. She noticed the frayed corners of the leather-bound journal lying beside the coffee maker. She’d given it to him for his fortieth birthday and forgotten about it until she came upon it in a place he knew she wouldn’t miss. Knowing he used it pleased her, but that was before the letter, addressed to her, fell to the floor. A frown creased her brow as she stared at the envelope. He hadn’t written her a letter since high school and her instincts screamed the one laying on the floor with her name penned in his careful, deliberate handwriting did not hold good news. Her heart did a somersault. Trembling, she opened the letter, removed the sliver of paper with its strange string of numbers, and read as her world crumbled.

The pages were showing wear from the hours and days she’d spent searching between the lines for answers. But, for the journal, she would have never known. His words and deeds a perfect mask of deceit to all who knew him, especially her. Wrap it up in a bow of explanations and rationalizations, but the result was the same, betrayal, and devastation. She tried to explain the things she read, combing through his words for a motive, or justification of his actions, but any plausible explanation escaped her. He’d lost his way, his mind, or both. Reading his journal entries, she couldn’t tell the difference. He’d given no insight as to why, simply categorizing his sins, listing them by date, time, event, and name of the betrayed.

He expressed shame, sorrow, his love for her and the kids. The last transaction, conveniently left out of the journal’s documentation, he explained in the letter. “This one, I did to protect you and the kids.” How ironic. How stupid. How self-centered. Four hours later, the doorbell rang; he’d taken the coward’s way out.

Who did he think would pick up the pieces of their shattered lives? Look their friends in the face? He wasn’t here to pay restitution, ask forgiveness, or witness the untold damage left in his wake. Did he honestly believe she’d burn the journal to protect his reputation or pretend his words were fiction? He hadn’t known her at all. How much more did she need to know? Jackie ran her hand over the soft leather, placed it on the side table, and reached for the doorknob. Enough, already. Time to face the music.

With her attorney at her side, Jackie walked through the door to greet the family, friends, and neighbors gathered in her living room at her request. Each one a name listed in the worn pages of the journal lying on the table in her bedroom. She began with the truth of her late husband’s betrayal; they deserved that much. The money they’d entrusted to him was gone.

The fallout would be hard for everyone. The ramifications of her husband’s actions would move through the community like a ripple in the ocean, large and wide, before engulfing all of them. Losing the house, her place in society meant nothing to her. Relocating would be the best thing for all of them, especially the children.

Finally, she closed the door on the last guest, laying her head against the aging wood grain. Returning to her bedroom, she stared at the damnable book lying on the table and picked up the phone.

“Detective, I think you’ll be interested in the information my husband left behind.”

“What sort of information?”

“A journal. An attorney friend of the family said you’d want it. I’m on my way out-of-town, but I wanted you to know I’m sending it by courier.”

“What’s in it?”

Playing the ignorant suburban housewife came easy. She hadn’t worked a day since they married and as long as he paid the bills and kept money in her account for the kids and the household, she didn’t ask questions. “I have no idea. I know many of the names listed, but I’m afraid all the rest is gibberish to me.”

“Does your husband know you’re calling? Can I talk to him?”

“My husband isn’t available.”

The squeak of the detective’s chair traveled through the line as he sat upright.

“Where is he?”

Jackie tucked the airline tickets along with the sheet of paper holding their future into her purse, “My husband left unimaginable destruction in his wake, detective, making instant paupers of the people who loved and trusted him. He’s where he belongs, in an unmarked paupers grave at Westminster. It’s the least I could do.”

She hung up the phone, took one last look around her old life, and walked out the door. Well, almost everyone.

Day 6

Thanks for reading. Talk to me. Tell me your story. I love hearing from you. And as always, you can follow me on Facebook at SheilaMGood and Twitter @cofcmom.