Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. One of my favorite psych theories to reference. According to Abraham Maslow, seeking fulfillment and change through personal growth is what sustains our motivation in life as human beings. The first month i was here, i was in full-on self-actualization mode: visualization activities during my vaccine treatments and nebulizer sessions, mindfulness practices when receiving the four rounds of chemo each week, deep-breathing moments in time of doubt, daily reflections via blog and personal journal entries, etc. I was working hard to understand the kind of person i want to make sure i am once i survive all of this (again), along with what steps i need to be taking this year to get to that version of myself. In this past month, often between the hours of 2-5am, i realized some things that have been holding me back, and how to move forward from those past experiences and personal barriers that i have put in place. I also had a couple revelations about myself in regards to what i want my future to look like. Being here has opened my eyes in more ways than one.
But alas, staying focused on self-actualization only lasts as long as all of the other needs on the triangle are being fulfilled … so threats to my basic needs take me away from the space I’m trying to stay in and instead thrust me into the spaces that are necessary to be in in order to get my physiological and safety needs back on point. Sleep: not getting it. Healthy food: still somewhat of an issue. Physical wellness: spotty after a week of intense side effects from cumulative vaccine and chemo doses. Sense of security: wavering in the face of looming financial concerns. I bring all of this up to say that as I’ve regressed back into addressing some of my deficient needs, I’ve also regressed in my approach to getting some of those needs.
In short? I’ve been a little bratty.
Yesterday, i petulantly told the nursing staff that i would not get hooked up to another drip bag until they figured out a way to de-swell my body. I’ve been bitching about being swollen and bloated for weeks now … and yes, a lot of it revolves around superficial vanity, but it’s also uncomfortable. When my entire midsection is extended, eating becomes painful. When my legs swell up, walking around town and up/down stairs becomes problematic. And by yesterday, my body had swollen so much that we could no longer identify my ankles or knees in either leg. My thighs looked like tree trunks, and Blanca even cracked a joke about my emerging double chin (not fucking funny, Bianca). So after throwing a slight tantrum, Blanca gave me some liquid version of a water pill, compressed my ankles with gauze, and had me elevate my legs for most of the night as i waited for the medication to take effect. Twelve hours later, i have peed four times, my ankles are back, and i feel a little relief in my legs and abdomen … but until i can button up my jeans again, i am going to insist on daily water pills BEFORE allowing them to hook me up to any more drip bags.
I also got into it with Dr. Smith last night. Dr. Smith is the weekday nighttime doctor. I have very limited interactions with her, but she is the doctor who handles a lot of the clinic’s paperwork needs … So for four weeks i have been trying to get her to give me itemized statements of my treatment here. She blew me off the first week i asked, so i took to stopping by her office every few days around midnight to follow up with her. When that didn’t work, I consulted with Patient Advocate Carolyn about how to better approach the situation; upon Carolyn’s suggestion, i handed Dr. Smith a list of exactly what information i need the invoices to include. Still nothing. As of last night, i had had enough.
“Dr. Smith. Every night i come in here, and you tell me the same thing. You’re working on it. You’ll have something tomorrow. Why does it take a month to give me a rundown of my bill?”
She proceeds to tell me all the same excuses I’ve been hearing for the last four weeks. I bite my lip a lot to keep myself from interrupting her. I can feel my 4-year-old Tarah waking up.
“Yes, Dr. Smith. I have heard all of this before. I know you’re busy. I know you have other patients coming and going. I know we got new inpatients this week. I know you’re trying to cross reference nurse logs to make sure everything is 100% accurate. … But i also know you have promised me these documents half a dozen times already, and you still didn’t answer my question about why it takes a MONTH to get this paperwork. I pay my bill on time every week. I should get the same respect in return. I need that paperwork for insurance and tax purposes.”
“I know, Tarah. I will have something for you tomorrow.”
“How much do you have finished right now?”
She swindles her computer monitor for me to see, and i notice the date at the top: 28 de enero.
“You’re still working on the second week?!”
When she nods her head and offers no apology, my mature self folds into itself and moves aside to let bratty Tarah come out to play.
“This is ridiculous. I have been patient long enough. If I don’t have my statements by Monday, i am not paying my weekly bill. My dad will not pay for it [lie]. He’s been on my case to get this paperwork for weeks now, and he thinks i am not following through with what he asked me to do [more lies]. So if i don’t have these documents from you by Sunday, i will be refusing to make any more payments until i get them.”
She tells me she’ll have something for me tomorrow before she leaves around midnight. I give her a long look to let her know i don’t believe her, sigh melodramatically, reply, “Yeah okay, Dr. Smith,” and leave her office.
So yeah, i’ve been kind of bratty these last 24 hours. Distracted from my goals and bratty about getting my needs met. As my sixth week here crawls to a close, i can definitely say i am over being a patient who has to rely on hospital staff to help me get my needs met. I’m ready to come home.