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.
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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.

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.

Cow Pasture Chronicles, My Oasis

June 22, 2015October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 4 Comments

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “All About Me.”

The name of my blog as you may know, if you’re a follower, is Cow Pasture Chronicles. The name has a special meaning to me.

I was a precocious child, or so they said. I prefer a smart, independent, and inquisitive girl ahead of her time. One of six kids, I was quiet, but sneaky. I didn’t mouth off or sulk as some of my siblings. I stayed quiet, said the requisite yes ma’am and no ma’am. I listened, paid attention, and when the timing was right, snuck off and did what I damn well pleased. I rarely got caught, but when I did, there was usually hell to pay.

We lived on a dirt road just outside of town, not many neighbors in sight, and right behind our house was a big cow pasture, filled with cattle. Located just over a hill, the road and pasture remained out of view from our house and provided the perfect opportunity for a curious girl to explore. All I had to do was get past mama. As it turns out, getting past mama was the easy part.

It took a few times of trial and error before the cows (I thought they were all cows, NOT) and I learned to ignore each other. I had no idea what a dangerous situation, it was climbing the fence. To me, running past a 2000 lb bull in giggles, after invading his territory seemed a game of catch me if you can, and I was the champ. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

The cow pasture became my favorite hide-a-way. Every day I climbed the fence running down the hill until I came to rest under the canopy of trees by the stream. I loved to hear the flow of the water and watch the cattle wander in to drink. The pasture became my escape, my paradise, my oasis.

It was there I began my writing adventure. As often as I could escape the house, I did. In the quiet of the pasture, beside a trickling stream, I filled my journals, writing about my grievances with my mother, poems, and stories. I even waxed poetic about algebra, the bane of my high school existence and signed my work with a pen name, Zeke

When I decided to start my blog, the name was a no brainer. The cow pasture I used for escape has long disappeared. Instead of cows meandering the fields, houses fill the expanse. My blog, Cow Pasture Chronicles, is now my escape. Here is where I explore the stories within me, voice the occasional opinion, and share the knowledge I’ve gained on the craft of writing.

If you haven’t stopped by, please do. I love to interact with other bloggers, readers, and writers. And I love feedback and dialog. And, as always you can follow me on Facebook at SheilaMGood and Twitter @cofcmom.

For your reading amusement, my poem on theorems, enjoy. (Be kind, I wrote this in 1972, when I was just a babe and I am not a poet)