I took a “Duck, duck, goose” approach to the title of today’s post; it seemed like a good idea to add some humour, something a bit lighthearted. That’s because I’ve been getting progressively more anxious, more nervous, about an appointment later this month.
It’s at the Pain Management Unit (PMU) of a large university’s health care network, made up of a number of hospitals and research centres. The PMU is a multi-disciplinary team of doctors, nurses, physiotherapists, psychologists, and other healthcare professionals – each of whom specializes in treating patients who’re afflicted by chronic pain.
It’s not so much of an appointment; it’s a presentation to a group of potential patients. The PMU calls it a potential patient orientation session. There will be a group of patients, who’ve all been referred to the PMU by their family doctors or medical specialists, after being in pain for more than six consecutive months.
I’ve been told that this presentation will explain how the PMU works, and what patients can expect – if they’re accepted for treatment. Each of us potential patients has to bring in a set of completed forms and questionnaires, which the PMU mailed to us in advance. I can’t write with my CRPS hand, so I asked my husband to fill in these (paper) forms for me.
At this point, that’s all I know. I don’t know what to expect at this orientation session. How many other people will be there? Will each of us find out, right away, whether we’ve been accepted as PMU patients? If a patient is accepted, will they get to meet with one of the PMU specialists on the spot – that same day? Or will each patient who is accepted have to wait – again – for an actual medical appointment at the PMU?
One of the questions really worrying me is what types of conditions or diseases the PMU would turn away. That’s because most of the time my affected hand and arm look fine. They’re not, but you often can’t tell just by looking at them. That question then leads to wonder what I’ll do if I’m not accepted as a patient at the PMU.
Since August, when my local community hospital more or less flushed me as a patient, I’ve been barely hanging on. Read FLUSHED for that story! Trying not to worry about all of this seemed to make the worrying worse, so I decided to do what I always do. To prepare.
If the PMU does accept me and my pesky CRPS, I’ll be ready. If I do become a patient there, then I’ll have to explain everything that’s already happened – to a new doctor. Treatments that have been tried, and which didn’t improve my symptoms. At which point the symptoms started, why the other doctor ignored them… Although I really have no answer for that question!
Are you wondering how I chose to prepare for this potential patient orientation session, and – hopefully! – for my first appointment with a specialist at the PMU? Great question!
I’ll write about the specifics tomorrow – stay tuned! It involves a list of words describing pain, and some homework that you might want to do yourself.