Only the Brave

My diary posts are almost completely monotonous and endlessly boring, immersed in the absurd everyday life of a poor country, feeling literally like a Kafka character, experiencing the same scary and ridiculous things. I understand why my other posts get noticed because they are something different from this absurd reality. And yet. I decided to write here for comfort. As I already said in a comment, I can't tell anyone what's going on with me. It's just like that. It took me a long time to get to this point. To realize that no one cares about the other, and by talking about your problems with someone, you increase them, but that someone will not help, rather it will harm. I am talking about specific people, I am also talking about a specific reality. It is certainly not the one you live in.

And at the same time, I need to talk about it, I want this thing not to stay inside me, writing it out, and that helps.
I was scrolling through my posts recently and opened one at random, I read a little. Well, I've even forgotten that this absurd, concrete thing I wrote about back then ever happened. Maybe that's part of the function of writing - coming out of you, it becomes forgotten.
On the other hand, this will remain after me. Not that anyone will read it. But it will simply remain, right? A trace, a stamp, of yet another miserable life in an absurd country.

So, in another episode of this absurd life, last week I went to my GP to get a referral for my annual check-up. As I may have said, I had some delusions that I could take matters into my own hands, since no one could tell me anything definitive. I thought about asking AI about all this. Of course, AI didn't tell me anything. Asking AI questions concerning humans is an extreme waste of time, I'm convinced of this once again, but in this case there is no natural intelligence that can help, so I resorted to it, out of desperation.

But when I didn't get any guidance, nothing different from what I had previously found on Google, I decided to do something else. Let me get my annual check-ups done first, I thought. And start with those. A complete blood count and urinalysis are a starting point. I don't know why no one has thought of this before. All summer, six months. God, it's been 6 months, a whole half a year, since I've been dealing with these pointless things.

So, I went to my GP. The one I went to at the end of June this year.
I managed to change my GP urgently at the last minute, with a recommendation, as I already told you. I chose him because: "He is not a good specialist, but he is a good person and is wiling to help" - that's what I was told about him. And I have to say that the first two times I visited him were quite successful. The first time was when he had to put his name on my medical record. It was all done in a few minutes, and he sent me away without even asking me for a medical user fee. The second time was to get a referral from him for one of the many specialists I was sent to. He listened to me then with regret, almost compassionately, said yes, he would give me a referral, it would be nice to go to this specialist, called me kiddo, was really friendly with me, gathered all the documents in a folder for me himself, as if worried that all this was happening to me, a patient whom he affectionately calls a child, as if he were my father.

That's why I was calm when I went to him again this time. Again the plea with my story, but this time briefly, because I gave him all the epicrisis again, on which there are already a lot of things written, some of which are already quite true. I expected him to give me the referrals and let me go quickly.

But this time he literally exploded - None of that was true. I was completely healthy. I don't need any tests either, he said.
OMG, now I thought that by telling him that some of these diagnoses have already been confirmed by several doctors, he would calm down and stop saying these things, but no, he continued to rant.
The nurse who works for him also got involved in this: you are completely healthy, there is nothing wrong with you. You cannot imagine what it is like to be sick with one of these diseases. My son is sick and we had to do all these extremely expensive tests that you have now been prescribed, and the diagnosis was confirmed. And you have no idea what this is...

At that moment, my empathetic nature kicked in, despite everything. Two people had literally attacked me with words. Now I can't adequately convey the exact words and their tone. Several days passed, during which I tried to make sense of what had happened, why it had happened, although to no avail. But my mind somehow tried to forget the ridiculous incident and it was already succeeding.
So I felt sorry for the woman. Her son is sick. Maybe that's the trigger that makes her explode like this.
"What's his illness," I asked compassionately, perhaps also to divert the subject, to divert the focus from myself.
"I won't tell you, because you'll attribute that illness to yourself too," the nurse replied.

And at that moment it already hurt me. Until then, I imagined that I could handle the situation, I had had other like that, constant fights and arguments with my previous GP, for example. I was used to a lot of things like that. Until one day, after another argument, my partner said to me: Her behavior is not appropriate for a GP. You need to find another one.
And now here I am, accused by the nurse of my new GP, who is not a good specialist himself, of "attributing illnesses to myself". And as he himself said, "I go to doctors without needing to and I want to get tests I don't need because I'm completely healthy."

Half a year, the whole summer, the best time of the year when I can feel at least a little alive, unlike the rest of the time, which is difficult to survive, I spent going from doctor to doctor and from diagnosis to diagnosis. There were moments when I said: I don't think I have this disease. Or - I don't think I need these tests. But I was told: who cares what you think. In the tone of: who the fuck do you think you are, to say what you think when it comes to illnesses that you understand nothing about.

And after all this horror, mental horror, depression and complete despair, I am told that I am making up illnesses. That maybe I am not well mentally either. Yes, I know that there is such a mental illness.

The doctor and I continue to argue. I list the symptoms. He denies that this is the disease that has already been confirmed. I ask him, since these symptoms are not of this disease, what disease are they for? He is silent.

The nurse makes me undress so she can do a cardiogram. She makes me take off my bra. At that moment the doctor opens the door wide. He goes outside to smoke. I know that there are several men waiting right outside the door. I was waiting with them before. I'm almost certain that they saw me naked. This added an even more bitter taste to the whole insulting incident.

The doctor comes back from smoking a cigarette, prints out my referrals and it turns out he missed one of the ones that were important to me. "Because you don't need them, you're perfectly healthy."
"Last year, the results of these exact tests turned out to be very bad and I urgently needed to see a specialist, I said, What do you mean, I don't need them?"
"Well then, you'll do them yourself and pay for them," the nurse replied calmly.

Let me say again that these are the annual preventive medical tests that every health-insured patient is entitled to. Now it turns out that I have to pay for them myself.
I am supposed to get just one thing for free annually in this fucking country, and now I have to pay for it.
"You don't need that." What does that mean? I'm not 20, I'm not 30, I'm already at the age where more specific tests are even required, I have my own health history, family history, etc. In addition, there are these annual checkups that are even mandatory, but according to statistics, only 41% of those with health insurance take advantage of them.
If we add to the other 59% those who are not health insured, and there are many of them, the number of people who do not undergo any examinations on an annual basis becomes drastic. And it is no wonder that Bulgaria is the country with the lowest life expectancy and the highest mortality rate in Europe. And as you can see, doctors even encourage this.

"It doesn't matter to me when I die anyway," I say in conclusion. I wasn't able to convince them to prescribe this test for me, and depriving people of tests, encouraging them to neglect their health as much as possible, can only lead to that.

"It doesn't seem like that's the case, since you keep going to doctors.", the doctor replied without batting an eye.
"Well, yes, the end is already in sight anyway.", I said and closed the door.

I'm sick of this cynicism. Only the brave don't go to the doctor. Only the brave keep quiet and endure until the very end. Even if that end marks a rather short life.
Life is hard for all of us, but why do we have to make it even harder for ourselves, even for each other?

Thank you for your time! Copyright:	@soulsdetour
	Soul's Detour is a project started by me years ago when I had a blog about historical and not so popular tourist destinations in Eastern Belgium, West Germany and Luxembourg. Nowadays, this blog no longer exists, but I'm still here - passionate about architecture, art and mysteries and eager to share my discoveries and point of view with you.

Personally, I am a sensitive soul with a strong sense of justice.
Traveling and photography are my greatest passions.
Sounds trivial to you?
No, it's not trivial. Because I still love to travel to not so famous destinations.🗺️
Of course, the current situation does not allow me to do this, but I still find a way to satisfy my hunger for knowledge, new places, beauty and art.
Sometimes you can find the most amazing things even in the backyard of your house.😊🧐🧭|