As the title hints, it’s been another fascinating visit with my pain diagnostician.
His current working diagnosis is fibromyalgia, which he characterizes as being capable of throwing some hairy curve balls (my terminology, not his) including the growing litany of food sensitivities, which solves a major problem in my mind.
Thyroid disease can also trigger the symptom complex that otherwise gets tagged “fibromyalgia” (more on symptom complexes in a minute.) I mentioned that I’ve had my thyroid checked several times and last year came up with Hashimoto’s (meaning my immune system is attacking on my thyroid.) Since I developed the first symptoms of this central sensitization around 16 years ago, it seems not like a precipitating event; since “normal” thyroid activity is not the most meaningful term, I’m not sure it’s irrelevant. I guess I’ll learn more as we go on.
He’s also checking my hemoglobin A1c to check for underlying blood sugar instability. I’m always happy to check that. Also B12 (pernicious anemia etc.) and D3.
Now we come to the fascinating (and crucial) distinction between a symptom complex and a disease. Both are used as diagnoses, but they mean different things. (Yes, I’ve used the word “disease” indescriminately here, for simplicity.) Medically speaking, a disease has a cause that can be targeted, what you might call a diagnostic end-point. A symptom complex doesn’t have that level of targeted responsibility for the illness; it’s a consistent set of symptoms that cluster together often enough to get a diagnostic label, which takes some doing.
Here are the two scenarios.
On the one hand, you’ve got someone with a lot of pain, funky guts, sensory reactivity, and normal labs. The doctor (we hope) rules out any other possible cause, and decides the diagnosis is, say, Fibromyalgia. This is a symptom complex, because it’s described in terms of what it does to the person, not in terms of specific pathogens or organs as the causative thingy. (I’m tired; thingy will do.)
On the other, you’ve got someone with a lot of pain, funky guts, sensory reactivity, and thyroid labs that are out of whack. Further examination of the thyroid discovers specific thyroid abnormalities which can be treated. With treatment, the symptoms subside or even disappear. The diagnosis is the disease of hypothyroidism, with a diagnostic end-point in an organ (as in this case) or pathogen.
CRPS/RSD, Fibromyalgia, and some other hideous conditions are symptom complexes. This is used by some as a reason not to “believe in” those conditions, because they aren’t “real.” This is intellectually dishonest, but it does no good to tell them that; assuming that a lack of diagnostic end-point equals lack of ill-health is blatantly absurd, but this is a reality we must contend with. It’s a drawback of having such a flexible language as English, where the same word can mean different things from one context to the next: in Plain English, disease and illness are interchangeable, but in Medical Jargon, they’re definitely different: disease means specific diagnostic end-point, illness tends to suggest a pathogen, and condition is the catch-all term — but is used more for things that really aren’t diseases or illnesses. Another example on a hot issue: in medicine, narcotic refers specifically to opioid analgesics; in law enforcement, it’s a MUCH wider term, encompassing any substance that legislators have decided is not legal. In courts, the meaning of the term has to change depending on who’s involved, which has to be weird.
No wonder there’s confusion around anything medical. What a setup, eh?
This brings us to the physician ethical structure this doc works with, and where it fits into this patient’s worldview. You can almost hear me purring comfortably from here.
He speaks of himself as a Palliative Care specialist. Most people think of Hospice when they hear palliative care, but it’s wider and simpler than that. It means this physician has chosen a field defined by the fact that his patients will probably never recover. That’s what palliative care means: keeping the patient as comfortable and functional as possible, for the rest of their (probably, but not necessarily, truncated) lives.
Yeah, pretty darn special. How many of you who see pain docs hear them use the term “palliative care” naturally and fluidly, without wincing and scuttling on? It’s a little thing that means a lot. It makes me realize I’m seeing a doctor who CAN be there for the long haul, if need be. Someone who would NOT throw me off with the very natural cringe of frustration and failure most docs feel when they can’t save you, or when you’re in the final downhill slide and they can’t face you dying. He can take that strain without failing me. That’s rare indeed.
Palliative care is the very heart of chronic pain care, and I couldn’t face that myself until today.
So now I just have to die before he retires…
I’d like to go over his approach more, but the fog is descending; it was an early morning and I’m paying for it as usual. I’ve got lots of notes, though. It’s great food for thought, so, with luck, I’ll come back to it.
Guess what? Everything’s up in the air, except me. But don’t worry, it’ll work out.
And that, folks, is how you know I’m back in the saddle. I’m not naturally a nervous person, but the years of system and systematic abuse on top of the fried central nervous system left me very nervous indeed. Every uncertainty was like a set of razor-wire boleadoras, ready to spin out and knock me over and tear me up.
Ghastly image, but very apt, as some of you know from your own experiences!
Of course, this slice of recovery is just well begun, not done. I’m simply able to reflect on possible futures without melting down reflexively. I’ll still have bad moments, bad days… and they will pass.
After all, there’s always an afterwards.
So, I’m 51 today, and I can honestly say I didn’t expect to see this day. You’d think my 50th would have been more reflective, but no, this one is.
I realized I’ve been blogging for 8 years, maybe 9. The first year and a half were justly lost in a Google flail, in the early part of the Pit Years. They were online journals, not blogs; the point of blogging is not to rip my skin off for reader amusement or “inspiration porn”, but to trace one path through the thickets we all have to travel, and trade ideas that help others find their own paths, or at least make them more bearable. (Tip of the hat to the friend of my youth who had the integrity to tell me she didn’t want to read my diary.) I’m more grateful for my readers, in all your kindness and struggles and brilliance and care, than words can ever say.
51 is starting with a bang, or rather continuing the same bangishness that has characterized this year so far.
I’ve found out I don’t currently have gall bladder disease, detectable spleen or pancreatic disease, or any form of cancer growing in my gut, just some “mild” gastritis. This leaves the question of what’s causing the rather extensive GI issues open for further inquiry. I’m going to see if I have mycotoxicity, which is looking very probable indeed, going on reactions and the fact that even the weirdest symptoms on that list are mine; going to find out if my body is able to respond well to a massage intensive (twice weekly for some months) or not; going to finish the final house repairs (as soon as the weather warms up long enough to let us not only recover from the cold but then get past the setting-up); and going to find out where we’ll go next, when the lovely house we’re living in sells. (My credit will age out of the worst black mark next year, so getting a house loan is simply a matter of time, with ongoing diligence. Not to mention knowing where to land.)
I’ve been reflecting on J’s unique mix of gentleness, brusqueness, flexibility, and intransigence, and realized how much he helps me in nearly every phase of his personality. (To misquote a capable yenta I knew, the holes in his head fit the bumps in mine, and vice versa.) I wondered how much further I could have come if he’d been there when I first got sick, or before I got sick. What great work I could have done.
Then I remembered, oh yeah, my ego was very much in the way — as that egotistical sentence pretty well indicates (what about your partner’s work, eh, Isy?) We would have loathed each other on sight, as both of us were cocky little jerks back then. It took losing everything that I thought defined “me” and “my life” to realize what really matters in a person — and in life.
I learned that love isn’t my driving force, it’s the anodyne that makes living bearable; curiosity is the characteristic that drove me out of the grave. I never would have guessed at the pure slingshot force of it.
So, though I don’t think I’ll see another 51 years, I can see that I might be wrong about that too. I’ll start heading that way now. I’ve got good company, outstanding friends (some of whom I’m related to), and interesting things to do. Onward.
May the future be worth the trouble of getting to it!
I used to run between 3 and 12 miles, 3 to 5 times per week. Not so much because I wanted to be One Of Those Running Addicts, charging along with a ghastly snarl carved into their faces while insisting they were having a marvelous time. Initially, because I had to dump the stress from my nursing job without killing anyone, because there wasn’t enough Haagen Dasz in the world to smooth the edges of HIV care in 1991 or of working the only public ER in Washington, DC. Later, simply because it was fun, after the first few weeks of adjusting to the initial effort. When I had had to give up nursing due to illness, recovered my lung function eventually, then was burying someone I loved every other month while I learned to handle programming software enough to write about it, I needed a bit of fun.
Well, that was depressing! I sometimes forget that having an eventful life can correspond to having a catalog of horrors in the rearview mirror. It’s not all horrors, really, and my natural bent towards finding beauty in everyday life became well developed, as I dove into the beauties (or the work) of the moment as a coping skill, and then eventually because it’s so rewarding.
At that time my usual trail was up hill and down dale through a redwood preserve — to misquote William Allingham, “Up the airy redwoods, down the mucky glen.” Great for the calves.
More to the point, getting out before work meant I could watch the sun touch the treetops high above, slowly stroking glowing gold down over their dusky purple and blue-green, each luminous inch bringing the birds roosting at that level to life, shrieking their fool heads off like this was the first time ever and they just couldn’t believe it!
THAT was definitely fun.
Speaking of fun: I’ve been reading thriller/adventure stories by an author who’s also an old pal. Like most thrillers and adventures, the characters are annoyingly fit. Unlike most thrillers and adventures, the characters have actual personalities (not just a set of quirks laid over a monotonously steely outlook), with the touch of weirdness I see in the people I’m drawn to, if I look closely enough. I certainly see it in myself.
These days, I have trouble identifying with fit, but I identify with weird just fine.
Suddenly, I couldn’t stand it any more. I got up, put on my sturdiest foundation garment, added a couple layers over that (it’s still chilly and soggy here) and went for a walk. My old, solid stride came back, the one that propelled my blonde fluffy self safely through the Tenderloin in SF and the drug commons of DC, with no more remark than, “Marines? Special Forces? How much do you bench press?” (The last was unusual, and actually made me pause to try and remember.)
I noted which clothes I went to put on, and moved them toward the door so it’ll be quicker to get dressed next time.
I forgot to stretch out afterwards, and getting up from this chair a minute ago was a useful reminder of the absolutely essential need to do so. Stiffening up happens!
I overdid a few days ago and it took 2 days to recover, so I know I have some exercise intolerance. I’m being careful (within the limits of my personality.) So far so good, and if I haven’t crashed and burned by this evening, I’ll know I chose the correct level of activity, and can increase first my distance, and then my intensity, by increments of no more than 10% at a time.
The tiny incrementation is frustrating for a former muscle-head, but I’m old enough (at last!) to know that little strokes really do fell great oaks, that the future will come anyway and I might as well be better for it, and the way to make that happen is to work at my margins and gradually, gently, persistently, open them out.
I don’t dream of marathons, but nor do I count them out. I don’t count them at all. I walk (briskly and sturdily) the dirt roads through my forests, and that’s enough for now, while leaving me plenty of room to grow into.
I’m doing a sort of elimination testing to refine what nuts and seeds, under what conditions, cause the troubles I howled about last week. It’s possible there might be a way I could keep some in my diet; we shall see. More on my guts later.
I want to share how I make nut milk, quick before I forget.
It can be delicious, nutritious, and beautiful.
I’ve found it to meet all 3 criteria only when homemade. Fortunately, it’s very easy to do, and very easy to space the 1- to 5-minute tasks so I can do it in little bursts.
I was taught how to make this by the chief cook and supervisory bottle-washer aboard S/V The Excellent Adventure. I owe her and her family a deep bow, because not only did I learn to make nut milk, but I got to experiment (look under “Variations”) with a boatful of beta-tasters.
I wrote up the basic recipe and my favorite variations this afternoon, for some relatives of Cougar’s. I turned it into a PDF so I could share it online without facing the horrors of Word conversion and wandering images.
As many of you know, nuts are fantastic nerve/pain food. The healthy oils calm the pain and inflammation, the abundance of minerals smooth out neurotransmission and cellular house-keeping (which is a very important thing), and the protein and fiber are digestible and body-friendly. (Unless you’re allergic.)
I’m beginning to think it’s the rancidity and mold I’m reacting to. More on that later.
Anyway, back to nut milk. It’s very easy to make, tastes fresh and clean and delightful, easy to make creamy if you like that thicker texture, and — in case I haven’t said so already — it’s ridiculously easy to make.
My pain diagnostic specialist is elegantly opinionated. Fortunately, he acts out the distinction between being opinionated and being rude about it.
We talked over a few things today. He’s still researching my past exposures to uranium, which he has a hard time believing wouldn’t have lasting effects.
He spent a lot of time combing through the idea that evidence-based medicine (in the sense that doctors use the term, not the sense that insurers do, where it means “how can we treat this as cheaply and barbarically as possible”) is really the best and least scary thing out there. Because, data.
I mentioned Dr. Scott Reuben at this point, and he owned that the scientist-practitioner does have to practice with integrity for the science to be meaningful.
He went on to say that the miracle cases that wind up in the literature leave physicians panting to find the next patient who shows up looking just like that case, so they can try the miracle. Doesn’t happen much, and so, there winds up being a paucity of data on rare cases (like mine) that meets the criteria of medical science as he sees it should be.
In the end, as always happens in conversation with a physician who has intellectual integrity, we found ourselves in the cleft stick of modern science:
While statistical probabilities indicate the best chances of success for groups overall, it has two glaring weaknesses, even in ideal circumstances: statistics depend on copious data, which aren’t always obtainable; and statistics mean nothing in the case of the individual.
Thousands of individuals are studied in order to come up with meaningful statistics. Of those individuals studied, how many respond to the treatment at the level of the group’s statistical probability? How many patients in real life will respond at that level? Pfft. All the statistics do is tell you how much of a crap-shoot a given treatment really is; it doesn’t tell you how well or badly it will do for you.
Last Friday, I saw my allergist/naturopathic MD at Northampton Integrative Wellness. He’s exploring mold toxicity, which sure hits all the hot issues I deal with. It doesn’t meet Dr. Saberski’s mental criteria, as I suspected, but that’s okay — I don’t need Dr. Saberski to follow up on it. I need someone like the docs at Integrative Wellness, who have the relevant background and tools, to follow up on it.
Because of my own experiences, I don’t necessarily assume that a well-educated, well-respected, well-published physician necessarily has a lot of intellectual integrity. However, I’ve come to the conclusion, through our conversations and his decisions along the way, that Dr. Saberski’s entire being (at work) is oriented on intellectual integrity.
We may not view things the same way, and he may not be thrilled at everything I do, but the fact is, he shouldn’t have to be. He’s delighted with my good results when I get them, and if this mold toxicity thing pans out and the treatment goes well, he’ll be truly elated for me — and will keep my chart on file, just in case I come back later.
I find it HUGELY relaxing to have such a resolute scientific conservative with such ferociously diligent, relentlessly inquisitive intelligence, which is completely balanced on intellectual integrity, on my case.
All I have to do in relation to the standard science is let him do his job! I do not have to educate this one — quite the reverse! I savor our conversations and make extensive notes, because he always has something to teach me. (Today’s exciting topics: what makes me NOT look like CRPS; the Flexner Report in history; how anesthesiologists, who have the diagnostic training of a spaniel, wound up running pain clinics — another stupid consequence of US insurance companies; and how the nociceptors and immune signaling in the skin are all entangled into being one thing. Woot! Fun stuff 🙂 )
That, frankly, has been unheard of for most of my time with this illness, whatever it turns out to be. I’m well and truly rid of the fearful weight of using my rare full-brain times to try to stay one step ahead of the risk to my survival and management that every doctor visit can be.
I can use my full- and even three-quarters brain time to study up on the stuff he can’t be interested in. For one thing, the vocabulary and writing style is usually less klunky and demanding. For another, that is supposed to be my job.
Patients should figure out what they can do for themselves without making things worse, so I’m happy to do that.
Now, I’m going to find out more about mold toxicity, methods and treatments, plus what data do exist on what to expect from those treatments and what they do in the body. According to my current info, the main researchers are Shoemaker on one hand, and Nathan and Brewer on the other. My allergy/naturo doc is leaving, so I’ll have to start with another one at the same practice. This means I’d better prepare, so I can move the conversation forward a little faster than usual. That means being able to speak her language in regard to what we’re looking into.
I find it’s best to impress doctors right off and for the first several visits, and then, if I’m having a bad day another time, they have a meaningful bar to measure against, and they don’t lose respect for me or dump me into that “just another whacky pain patient” mental garbage-can. I work hard to make visits as useful as possible, as regular readers know.
I’m also getting ready to do another massage intensive. Looking forward to that! It’s pretty uncomfortable for a couple weeks (arnica pills 6c and 30c, and Advil Liqui-Gels, are essential pre- and post-massage medication), but the payoff could be so spectacular. I’m tired of the downward slide and intend to crank up the functional level one way or another.
Winter bit me pretty hard. It’s time to start biting back.
While I was mulling the constancy of nausea and yuckiness, looking for a reason more useful than “it’s winter”, I realized I had relentless cascades of post-nasal drip.
The stomach isn’t too fond of relentless cascades of post-nasal drip, because the glucoprotein complex generically called “mucus”, which we usually call “snot”, is not that easy to digest. It’s not really meant to be digested; it’s meant to do its job (picking up and trapping obnoxious particles or germs or what-have-you) and then get blown out. It’s not supposed to roll into the tummy in a never-ending stream.
I was reading up on GI issues (as one does) and stumbled across a piece which said something like, “Stay away from nuts and seeds entirely. The oil is rancid by the time it gets to you and that rancidity is poison to the systems of people who have leaky guts and sensitized systems. You can usually tell because the immune reaction affects your sinuses and causes lots of extra mucus.” If you’re curious, this article was about the GAPS diet and explained the whats and whys.
I threw my hands up in exasperation and disgust. I relied on nut and seed butters to start my day, because they cut the morning pain down to a quite bearable level and gave me a bit of protein that didn’t bring my stomach up in revolt. My mornings are tough enough and this info just pissed me off.
The next morning, I woke up noticing that I didn’t have post-nasal drip. Nice. Then I started on my morning breakfast of apple (malic acid helps the pain ease off too) and sunflower or almond butter (I forget which.)
Two bites…. then a relentless cascade of post-nasal drip.
My first thoughts were mostly expletives. Totally unprintable in a family-friendly blog.
I went off the rails a bit. I’ve been dealing with this disease complex for nigh on 15 years now and I have evolved a pretty limited (and not cheap) diet to manage it. Rather than thinking, “Oh great, a good clue as to what I can do to improve things!” I mentally roared, “WHAT THE BLEEDING HECK CAN I EAT ANYWAY????”
– Genetically-determined mild allergy to white beans. That means soy, chick peas (which wipes out hummus and much Indian food), most multi-bean soups and salads.
– Roaring neurologic gluten response, which in my case spills over into related molecules. This means: no wheat, barley, triticale, rye, oats — in fact, most grains; nor fresh milk, soft cheese, dairy ice cream; and eggs only in strict moderation.
– Hashimoto’s disease means my body is chewing up my thyroid. This means definitely no soy, but also, no broccoli, chard, kale, bok choy, cauliflower — no cabbage/brassicas of any kind — and that’s an awful lot of vegetables not to have as an option, including most winter veg. And yet, I need lots of vegetables and happen to like all of those. Even in small amounts, brassicas can squash thyroid response. It’s very sad.
– Candida/c.diff overgrowth, which means no sugars (not even unrefined honey or maple syrup, not even low-glycemic stuff like agave [which makes me cramp] or maltose), no rice, minimal fruit, no juice, no root starch (too high in sugars) or white starch of any kind (if I’m doing this diligently) which wipes out the potato family and remaining grains except amaranth (I can’t digest quinoa at all, so it’s not even an option.) Then there are the limitations that are less obvious, which means, no tea or coffee, no vinegar or cultured food (if I followed that parameter, I’d be unable to digest anything and my guts would be even worse), no artificial anything because they tend to be grown on yeast or malt slurries (which is fine because packaged foods tend to happen to other people, not me.)
– The constant immune-y fuss means I should probably be more diligent about the inflammatory culprits: tomatos, eggplant, potatos, peppers, the whole belladonna group. I LOVE those things. Also, no canned foods, because the trace amounts of preservative stuff are so neurotoxic that molecules matter to my body, and homemade canned stuff can still grow trace amounts of the fungusy-yeasty stuff that boots me back into candida territory.
– Now, no nuts or seeds. At all. Possibly no cooking oil. I was diligent about getting the freshest and checking best-by dates and inspecting the packaging, for the candida reason. Not enough any more. No nuts or seeds at all.
I think i’m down to squashes, lettuce, and incredibly expensive pastured/wild flesh foods. Oh, and grassfed (Kerrygold) butter. I can put that on the squash, I guess.
To be frank, I haven’t been very diligent about eliminating the root veg and I’ve had some broccoli and cauli lately, because it’s freaking winter and I’ve needed to eat something that’s available.
Since reading about the nuts/seeds thing, I totally fell off the rails. No gluten, because I’d rather die than go through all that again, but I’ve gone to town on sweets, rice, vinegar, ice cream, root veg, brassicas, belladonnas — everything but nuts and seeds.
Paying the price for it, too… as one does.
Two nights ago, I made myself a new bedtime meditation recording, designed to rebuild my own mental core. I’ve just about had it with trying to cope with the world (if you have one eye on US politics, you’ll understand that well enough, especially if you have friends and family who are losing care due to political brangling, losing property due to corporate gamesmanship, or losing their liberty due to being not-White); add to that some family crises of illness and a bereavement in the extended family, and… yeah.) I’ve reached March feeling absolutely shredded inside.
And then…. NUTS!
Lately and increasingly, my brain was really resisting the relaxation response training — which is very odd for me — and I was having nightmares and waking up 5 times a night. I thought that, if I backed off the calming exercises and instead re-integrated my core self, that would make more sense than trying to pretend everything’s all right for half an hour. I have no idea what that looks like for other people, but I have a pretty good idea what it looks like for me. So, I made a recording with a series of mental/imaginative exercises that boil down to my individualized psychological structural support.
The chaos and rage are abating, which is just as well, because I have a follow-up appointment with my pain specialist tomorrow. I’m calming myself down with this article before turning my fragile attention to encapsulating the physical fallout and revelations of this winter in a coherent patient update.
I get to tell him that I’m seeing the GI specialist later this week, and that I have tested marginally positive in a screening test for mold toxicity, so more blood tests are coming from my allergist. That would actually explain a lot, but I’m not sure where he stands on the subject. Mold toxicity, as a driver of illness, is one of those things where the physician’s belief-state has more bearing on care than the coherent, consistent, verifiable facts of the patient’s disease-state — in that respect, it’s like chronic fatigue, neurogenic pain, and most immune disorders. Familiar territory to many of us.
A few days ago, I apologized to J for being such a piece of work lately. I told him I’ve been ill and in more pain than usual. He said, with the kindest intentions, “Well, it’s hard to act right when you’re sick. You have to feel good.”
I said, “I never get to feel good. It’s just different levels of –” (waved my arm expressively.) “I usually do a pretty good job of managing myself anyway.” He agreed, bless him.
That first phrase, “I never get to feel good,” has been preying on my mind. But then, it’s winter. This will pass, and I’ll find it easier to put my focus where it belongs — on what I CAN do, CAN eat, CAN feel, that’s not so — (wave my arm expressively.)
Until then, I’ll keep breathing, keep making my appointments, keep tending my relationships as well as possible, keep up on my documentation, keep on keeping on. As one does.
Fortunately for all of us, the blogger at Elle and the Autognome has done a good job of laying out the basics and providing a starting-point for figuring out how to manage it in individual cases — because we’re all different, and we have to figure out what works in our particular bodies. So, rather than waiting for me to get it together on this topic, I’m going to punt to her.
* For the record, “central nervous system sensitization” is a collective term for the diseases characterized by CNS up-regulation of essential neural signals, notably pain but also a whole garbage-can of signaling misbehavior that goes with that. These diseases include CRPS, fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, multiple sclerosis, lupus. chronic Lyme, and so on.
I switched to a new insurance company that might provide dental care. I haven’t tried them on that yet, but I will. It’s on the agenda for this year.
They want to pre-authorize my main neurological med, Savella. This is the main med that keeps my pain under some kind of control most of the time. If it weren’t for Savella, I’d simply not have survived the past 5 years.
Somehow, the pre-auth requirement has thrown my pain specialist into a tailspin. He wrote a prescription (although I had refills) and mailed it to me, then asked me to come in to see him (2-1/2 hour drive, involving an overnight stay to be there in the morning, which is when his office hours are) in order to discuss this, before he’ll initiate the pre-auth paperwork.
I could get testy about that. It would be so easy.
What I did was refer, by date, to the first visit, when we discussed that first for 10 minutes. I guess his notes from that got lost.
This is where I stay off the computer for a day while I calm down, remind myself that it would not actually be in his best interests to throw me into a bottomless lake of fire, and it would probably not be in my best interests to beat him to it and kill him first.
When you have a brutal pain disease, and you have a med that works enough to let you have a life beyond fighting for the next breath and waiting for the lack of food and crazy stress hormones to kill you, and there’s a situation that threatens to take it away, the consequences of losing the med mean that life will descend into a level of hellishness that most people can’t even imagine. Thus, those of us who’ve found a med that works for us, enough to let us eat and move and think and speak — we get pretty intense at the prospect of having that med taken away.
This is not addiction. It never was. It’s true and valid need. Big fat difference.
Funny how it’s easier to believe when we’re not talking about narcotics, isn’t it?
> If you’re serious about managing the narcotic disaster in this country, you have to let yourself remember that both addicts and painiacs NEED TO BE PATIENTS. They both need CARE. Neither they, nor their doctors, nor their communities, are served by being turned into CRIMINALS.
> REHAB WORKS, when properly funded and designed. THAT is how you get addicts off of contraband drugs.
> PAIN MEDS WORK, when appropriately prescribed and used. THAT is how you keep pain-patients functioning as well as their diseases permit.
> There is some logistical overlap at times, but ADDICTION AND PAIN TREATMENT ARE NOT THE SAME THING.
> However, BOTH NEED TO BE MANAGED BY CLINICIANS, NOT POLITICIANS!
Okay, stepping off that soapbox. Feel free to copy/paste the whole blockquote as much as you like.
So, anyway, I’ve calmed down about my doc’s curious response to doing a pre-auth on my longstanding pain med.
This is really important: from here on, I’m talking about MY ANXIETY, not MY PHYSICIAN’S REALITY. This is pretty normal and natural, and I’m leaving it in as a straightforward demonstration of what my brutally nervous brain can do to in the grip of PTSD from decades of questionable care. So, here’s the anxiety-driven, defense-at-any-cost response. (For more on the reality, check my future posts on his doctoring.)
I remembered he’s a geek. More than that — he’s an ubergeeknerdyguy who’s been a high-end specialist for a very long time.
Geeks are brilliant in their particular slice of the world, but can be surprisingly insecure and nervous about stepping outside it. Also, sudden changes can be surprisingly disorienting to them. (Those of us with ANS problems can sympathize.)
Things that might rattle an ubergeeknerdyguy about this and set off mental alarm bells:
My med was covered before, but now it needs pre-auth. Why? /dingdingding!/
My diagnosis was wrong, and it’s possible that my treatment will change, but we don’t yet have enough info to decide what’s next. Feels like change is coming upon us too soon! Not enough information! /dingdingding!/
Winter. Nobody over 35 is at their best here in the winter. /dingdingding!/
Obviously, to those of us who don’t inhabit the intellectual stratosphere, the first 2 issues are pretty straightforward (1: Cuz American insurance is funny like that. 2: Doesn’t matter — stay the course until there’s reason to change) and the 3rd is just life.
To an ubergeeknerdyguy who’s accustomed to controlling outcomes that nobody else can bear to deal with, it’s too much uncertainty to handle at long distance.
So, I’m getting my documentation ready:
I’ve got another copy of the letter from the ins. co. explaining they just want pre-auth.
I’ve got the current formulary showing that Savella is covered.
I’ve updated my supplement matrix showing the changes for the winter, which does 2 things: shows I’m really working on this “being functional” thing, and that I’m taking my chemistry seriously, not being passive and expecting him to do all the work.
In fact, the last point is so useful, I’m going to link my matrix here for anyone to crib from:
Now my secrets are out! 🙂 You can now see exactly which brands I use and what I find that each thing does for me. (And, if you count up the number of capsules and pills this makes, you also know why it can take me over half an hour to get my pills down!)
The first column shows changes (represented by a delta sign at the top). Docs LOVE being able to see at a glance what’s new and different.
Blank spaces are shaded out. This makes it obvious nothing’s intended to be there. (Common sense is not the same as intelligence, remember. Be as clear as possible.)
I put notes at the bottom putting it all in context.
My neuro supplements went down when I got my antioxidants dialed in to reflect the results of my blood tests. In other words, balancing my antioxidants really helped my brain!
My neuro supplements, along with everything else, have gone up to mitigate the brutal effects of cold and snowy winter.
This is not the time to make changes. Having said that, I’m not opposed to changes — just not now. (It’s good to explain, courteously and clearly, what your boundaries are around treatment.)
Detailing those changes tells the doc that I really do pay attention to what I’m taking in. I’m not a faddist; I’m diligent and determined to manage this as well as I can. Just from this one document alone, that’s reasonably obvious. Displaying this characteristic (or set of entwined characteristics) helps my doctors take me more seriously.
The real fun of this symptom complex: trying to keep others taking me seriously even when I realize I’m in such a panic my brain explodes. Woot!
I have written about dealing with careless, ignorant, detached, and outright bad doctors, which is needful and — given the many problematic layers of living with chronic, intransigent pain — appropriate. However, I’m also a nurse, and I really do see things from both sides.
You’re both right.
Having said that, I normally have to pull for the patients, because only one person in that exam room is definitely NOT paid to be there and is NOT on duty, and it’s the one seeking care.
Patients need more advocacy, partly because few of us have the vocabulary to make our real needs and issues understood, and partly because the mere label “patient” instantly drops a person out of the realm of “real human being” in the minds of providers. If you’ve ever seen, or been, a doctor or nurse who needs medical or surgical care, you know darn well how your erstwhile colleagues speak to you differently from how they did before — but still more humanely than they do to most other “patients.”
Being labeled a “patient” is damning. You become a thing, a self-steering talking object, with only a surface resemblance to “real” people. Your main appearance in the eyes of the system, and, at some level, of those who work in it, is as a collection of problems. Your main purpose is to respond to treatment and go away cured.
Chronic intractable pain syndromes become zero-sum games from this standpoint, because pain is inherently demanding — even thinking about pain is painful!*1 — and managing these disease states rarely involves being able to “go away cured.” So, from this institutionalized standpoint, chronic pain patients are set up as failures from the start, because we can’t do our job — go away cured.
Explains a lot, doesn’t it! This unfortunate fact is simply one more thing to work around.
Those of us with intransigent pain syndromes are lucky in one respect — we have interesting sets of problems, and intelligent doctors find that intriguing! Appealing to their curiosity is often more effective than appealing to their humanity, because it gets them where they work best.
A nurse who’s a patient
It has taken many years of painfully humiliating introspection for me to come to terms with this basic dehumanization of patienthood. I was a good, solid, compassionate nurse, but I did not treat people who came under my care the way I would have treated my friends or relatives if they were in my care.
Many reasons for that. For one thing, the profit-driven scheduling doesn’t allow time for anything more than slinging meds and essential care; spending too much time with one patient means putting other patients at risk.
Beyond that, there’s a primal survival reflex involved, because there are things nurses have to do for patients that would be unbearable to do to a friend or relative.
We have to do all of them, thoroughly and without flinching, because they need doing in order for that patient to heal; and we still must be able to come back to work the next day. So, we create a little distance that we can do the work from.
Patients are Other. When they become too human, they can quickly become embarrassing, and every human on earth cringes away from what’s embarrassing. (Just as every human on earth cringes away from what’s painful, and this explains why we tend to get abandoned by our friends and by the system when our pain becomes too obvious for them to bear. That, in turn, is why we get so crazy-good at minimizing the appearance of being in pain; we don’t like the abandonment, and we don’t want to hurt those around us anyway.)
Speaking as a patient and long-term survivor, starting from the underdog position is a terrible position to negotiate your ongoing survival from.
So, I spend most of my time advocating for and educating my fellow patients. They’re the ones who need it most.
However, once in awhile, something hits me, and I feel a point needs to be made.
Doctors (and other care providers)
This article is a good little anecdote from the ER, my old base:
And that, right there, is the juggling-act providers have to do. The decent ones, which is most of them (really), put their hearts on the line every day, knowing they’re imperfect and doing their best anyway.
When I was doing something intense, like dressing a complex wound or teaching someone about their disease or (obviously) coding someone, that patient was the most important person in my life. I threw everything I had, with all the control and skill I had, into the moment-by-moment demands of their care, the whole time that they needed me.
That patient was my life.
Then, whether they lived or died, I had to arrange what happened next, clean up the mess, and leave the bedside, only to go to the bedside of someone who needed me perhaps just as badly in a wholly different way.
No matter what had just happened, after all that effort and dedication, I had to leave it behind and be ready and focused to correctly identify and move forward with the next patient’s tasks.
So, yes, I rarely came off as a fluffy cuddle-bear (which I tend to do at home), and a lot of my responses could be pretty formulaic, but when the chips were down, “he [still] wasn’t my child.” He, or she, or they, was my whole world.
Being able to turn away from that intensity is what makes it possible to turn back to it at need. That’s a tough thing to deal with when you’re on the wrong end of it, when you’re not the one dying on the table or getting your insides pulled about. You know you matter, and want to be treated as if you do. That’s right and proper. It might be too much to ask of a full-time RN. (There is definitely something weird about that.)
Nurses are the bedside providers. Physicians are the directors of care, deciding who goes where and why. They’re accustomed to deciding what happens, and expecting others to make it so, so that the patient can get better and go home.
Chronic care is always a long game, sometimes a waiting game, and doctors are dealing with people who simply can’t do what the doctor’s expensive education said was the doctor’s job: “send them away cured.” This means that the chronic care provider is also set up as a failure from the start, as some have found the grace and integrity to express. *2
This must be a special kind of tricky to learn to deal with, so it doesn’t surprise me that not many otherwise good-hearted people, who go into medicine for laudable reasons, don’t always manage it with the tact and decency that chronic patients (rightly) expect.
In that case, it’s not a bad idea to find a way to waft this article their way… It’s not judgmental, and it provides much food for thought, for physicians and patients alike:
As a side-note, one strategy I find useful for getting through the thing-ness of being a collection of probl– er, a patient, is being as pleasant and amusing as possible. This creates a safe-zone of humor while drawing the provider in past the boundary of “thing-ness” I’m reflexively put in. The wry, black-nailed, hangman’s humor of living with something so vile and refusing to let it win, coming out in my burbling and whimsical-sounding tones, is probably sufficiently unexpected to blow categories out for the moment anyway.
If I can make them laugh with me (while checking me out with a puzzled “are you serious?” kind of glance) I’m halfway to being human in their eyes, and still being treatable. Then, I just keep up with my due diligence (timelines of care, understanding my treatment options, studying up on things we’ve discussed, etc.) and — with the exception of one doctor out of two dozen, who I thought was a buffoon in any case — my relationships with my doctors have been remarkably good.
Two things come first:
1.Taking care of myself and my relationships, and
2. Finding responsible doctors.
That seems to be ok for now. So, among other business-y things, I’m working on rebuilding my credit rating.
I didn’t mention in a prior post that there are 2 aspects to building credit:
– Addressing negative credit
– Building positive credit
Here’s the progress I’m making. These links and resources are for the US. (I’m sorry for my overseas friends who need this info — if you like, I’ll link to yours and you can link to mine, if you are able to research your country’s policies.)
If a debt is less than 7 years old and it was always yours to pay, it still is. There’s no getting around that. However, it’s worth doing a sanity check on those debts, because, for one thing, they might be more than 7 years old but still showing up, and for another, they might not be yours to pay.
Start with a reality check
I went over everything twice, once to let the white flashing lights and internal screaming happen in private,
and again later when I’d calmed down to see what was really there.
If you owe it, you might pay less
There were a few smaller debts that were definitely mine, definitely in date, and still owed. I called those companies, to make sure the amount and address I had were correct, and paid them off as soon as I could. One creditor had just sent it to collections, which means they had to take a few cents on the dollar, and they’re a small company. I offered to pay it straight to them and she almost cried. (I now have a friend in Maine..)
I find that business people are super nice when they find out you want to pay them, after thinking they’d lost that money forever! They made it as easy as possible. If I’d had debts in 4 digits instead of about $100 each, I believe I could have negotiated for a discount and payment plan by talking directly to the company. I never spoke to a collection agency; I might have found a good one, who knows, and settled cheaply.
If you don’t owe it, point them to who does
I sic’ed a hospital and ambulance company onto Medicare for medical bills that should have been directed to them anyway. They were 4-digit debts, so it was a relief to discharge them; however, more to the point, they were not my debts to pay.
I’m happy to pay my bills when I can, but it’s silly to pay things I don’t owe. I had to check things against the impenetrable Medicare and Medicaid language, but I haven’t heard from those creditors again, so I was right — my health insurance had to pay for that ambulance ride and the emergency care.
If it’s over 7 years, you probably don’t owe it
The biggest bill is out of date. Imagine how my head spun when I realized that! it turns out I have one major debt still on my credit report, but it’s from 8 years ago. Since they’re only allowed to stay on the report for 7 years, I wanted credible guidance for wiping that off my report.
How to handle creditor errors
Most online pages tell you to report to one of the Big Three agencies and trust them to take care of it. I found out the hard way that the Big Three are not the definitive players in the financial world; they’re only 3 out of (possibly) a dozen or more. Furthermore, the Big Three don’t have an obligation to report the change to other credit agencies.
Here’s what you really need to do:
1. Make 2 (or more) copies of your documentation of the error.
One copy is for the company that made the error: in my case, the bank that forgot to take off the bad debt after 7 years. Extras are for any disputes you want to file with the credit reporting agencies (Equifax, etc.) Happily for those of us with limited attention, the company that made the mistake is responsible for making the correction with every single reporting agency it reported your problem to.
This documentation can be the credit report you got from CreditKarma or your mortgage application, or it can be from whatever documentation you have that shows the very last payment you made, or the very last time you told them that you’d pay, whichever comes later. That date is when the clock started ticking.
(This is why it’s vital NEVER to make promises to financial institutions. Either pay, or don’t pay, but don’t tell them ahead of time. Your word binds you as much as paying money does. Tell them as little as possible. My formula is, “I understand that you want to be paid. I would, too. I can’t do that right now, but I will let you know when I figure out what to do.” This is honest and clear, and totally avoids any suggestion that I owe them or will pay them.)
Despite anything they say, it’s not about your honor, it’s about their profits. Your survival does not matter to them; getting paid does. Remember that. It’s all about money for them, because that’s the way the laws are written that govern them.
2. Mark up your copies, either in a colorful ink or by taping notes to them, whatever works for you. Be specific about the most important problem; in my case, this would mean circling the dates of the last payment in red ink, adding the note, “This is over 7 years old.”
3. Write a professional, brief, factual letter to the company that made the mistake.
Here’s a good template from the FTC itself:
4. [optional]Go to the website of each credit reporting company that told you about this problem. Follow their instructions for filing a dispute about a record, and submit your marked-up copies however they ask you to do so. (You might need to scan them in.)
Format for letter to clear up errors in your credit record
If you have trouble with all the square brackets in the FTC’s link above, here’s a simpler version, based on my issue (you’d change it to reflect yours.) It looks funky here, but I just tried copy-pasting it into Word and it looks perfect:
My Billing Address
My City, State, Zip Code
My Old Bank's Name
City, State, Zip Code
Dear Sir or Madam:
I am writing to dispute the following information in my file. I have circled the items I dispute on the attached copy of the report I received.
This ____ is inaccurate because _____. I am requesting that the item be removed to correct the information.
Enclosed are copies of ____, ____, and ____ supporting my position. Please reinvestigate this matter and delete the disputed item from my credit reports as soon as possible.
my illegible scrawl
Credit report with old date
Copy of FTC or CFPB page stating 7-yr limit
Whatever else would help make the point
Sources of info: the good, the bad, and the pretty-but-useless
The financial industry’s job is to make money, not to be fair or to take care of the needs of non-financially-savvy people. The laws are written that way: their job is to make money, and devil take the hindmost.
The CFPB exists to give consumers a better chance of survival in this top-weighted economy.
After wading through dozens of pages on consumer debt and credit advice, the best, clearest, most useful information turned out to be at the CFPB and the FTC. I strongly suggest going right to those pages to find answers to your questions.
Also, the CFPB has ways of helping you if you think you’re getting screwed in spite of following the right steps. Look for the helpful links on the page you’re looking at, in the text or over on the right. Don’t make yourself crazy; make an honest effort within your limits, then go to the CFPB site, explain your situation, and ask for help (if necessary, use the term, “as part of an ADA accommodation for my disability, which affects abilities required to do this” — that’s a magic phrase that means you don’t have to jump through as many hoops as a healthy person in order to get help.)
A note on credit reporting that you won’t find on most sites
I found out that there’s a wrinkle to credit reportage in the US that explains why the “Big Three” (Experian, Equifax, etc.) are such a small part of the information yielded in in-depth credit inquiries, like mortgage applications or some brokerage accounts. They’re called credit bureaus. They are an added layer between creditors and reporting agencies: they collect info from the creditors, and pass it to the reporting agencies. You’ve never heard of most of them, unless you’re in the industry.
This is why the info from the Big Three is only the tip of the iceberg. Very annoying. I’m going to mull this, and maybe ask the CFPB about it.
What’s a Statute of Limitations on debt?
Each state has a statute of limitations on debt that’s usually less than the 7 years that a debt can stay on your record. The difference between a statute of limitations and how long it can stay on your record is this: a statute of limitations simply defines how long they have to file a lawsuit against you. They usually have to file a lawsuit within 2-4 years, but they can keep that black mark on your record for at least 7 years.
When I was a young adult, lawsuits were rarely filed for consumer debt. It wasn’t profitable enough, and besides, preying on consumers was considered bad business practice in the long term. Bankers blamed themselves for judging poorly; they didn’t see non-rich people as legitimate prey.
Since then, in the wake of the irrationally predacious financial practices that trashed the US economy from the middle out, suing and criminalizing debtors has become a big business. Please see the comment below from Sage for more on this topic; she has grabbed a couple of links for further info on this.
NEVER IGNORE A SUBPOENA. Ignore anything else you want, but if you ignore a subpoena from a court, you’re turned into a criminal automatically and can be arrested on sight.
Remember, it’s not about you, it’s about money. It’s all about money.
If I got subpoena’d (again), I’d call the court and sweetly but firmly request ADA accommodation regarding time and place, so I’d be physically able to attend. Then I’d show up in court, bank statements and disability “award” letter in hand demonstrating my financial straits, explain that I’d love to settle for, say, 20-30 cents on the dollar (which is the most they can expect, and more than nothing!) and set up a payment plan, but the creditor wouldn’t work with me.
The judge can order them to work with you, and it’s perfectly reasonable to look for a settlement that’s much less than half of what you originally owed.
I’m White and know the lingo, so I have two huge advantages in court. Nevertheless, it’s best not to ignore a subpoena, because doing so automatically criminalizes you. It’s not fair — in fact, it’s blitheringly crazy — but that’s the way the laws are written now.
To build positive credit, you find reportable debts to take on, keep within limits, and pay them off on time every time. There is no workaround to that.
If you don’t have much negative credit, you might be able to take on a signature loan from your bank. Stick the loan in a savings account and set up automatic payments from that account. Never touch it. It’s not yours. It belongs to your future. Consider it Monopoly money, which isn’t legal outside the parameters of the game.
Credit cards for the rest of us
If you entered your illness (or other hardship) with the usual rank of car payments and consumer debts, this may not be an option.
There are a few credit card companies who provide ways for you to have a credit card, usually by putting a certain amount of money in a savings account with them. With some cards, the better your record with them, the sooner they bump up your limits beyond what’s on the card. It’s best not to spend up when that happens, but instead, to let the higher limit ride and stay on target with your payments. The higher limit will work in your favor credit-wise, even if you never use it.
Needless to say, it’s essential to avoid debts you can’t service. Don’t spend more than you do now. Pay that sucker, exactly as the card company tells you to. Every. Single. Month. Without fail. That’s how you rebuild credit.
I’ll use my card for things I buy anyway, and pay it off every month out of my budget for food, gas, clothes, and exactly what (and how much) I’d buy anyway. It’s the same money, it just has to go through an extra step on the backend. More payments to automate, but I can do that.
I aim to wind up with 3 credit cards — one for groceries, one for gas, one for “other”, which will provide an illuminating reality check on my budget’s validity — and pay them off every month. More automation; I can do that. I’ll need 3 cards in order to build up a sufficient positive history as quickly as possible.
This section was added March 2018, regarding a lesson I learned the hard way, so you don’t have to…
“Good credit card utilization” is one way of generating positive credit. That phrase is in quotes… why? Because the meaning of it has changed.
When I was earning enough to get a credit card based on my income (when buggy whips were the turbo-charge of the day), this meant spending cards up and paying them off religiously. At the time, people who ran high debt on their cards and then paid them off every month were the ones doing it right.
I didn’t remember any current advice to the contrary…
So, I was approaching mortgage-application time (my goal), and had one of those jumpy bursts of misguided energy — “Maybe I don’t have enough positive credit! Quick, spend up and pay off!” I put all my expenses on my card. Predictably, in the helter of distraction and the skelter of all the other things I’m juggling, I was 3 days late on that payment.
Next thing I know, my glowing golden credit score dropped more than 100 points!
I dug into that. It wasn’t the slight tardiness. (I’ve automated minimum payments so I’ll never be late again. Should have done that in the first place!)
Credit Karma told me, “Oh, by the way… you want to spend your credit cards only up to 30% of the balance. Otherwise lenders assume you’re irresponsible and overuse credit.“
It’s no longer just about paying off. It’s about using less than a third of the debt you’re supposedly able to carry.
Yup, you’re right: Finance is a very weird business. It has rules rather than logic — although my finance relatives insist it has its own logic. (Speaking as an American who has kept an eye on financial events for the past 30 years, all I can do is smile politely. Logic? Is that what it’s called? Heheh… Okay!)
I would have rather learned that “30% rule” when I was doing the original research on this article. But hey, better late than never, right?*
When you use credit cards to develop positive credit, be sure to charge no more than $30 out of every $100 of credit to your account.
So, a $500 credit limit means you only spend $150 of that credit before paying it down. $300 means only spend $90 — seriously. $700 means $210 in usable credit, before you have to pay it down or suffer the consequences.
Keep your balance below that 30% mark.
This is key to protecting your score while developing positive credit with credit cards.
*“Better late than never” may not be right after all. The party currently in charge of the US government chose to gut federal HUD (Housing Development) funding. Therefore, waiting for this blip to age out may destroy my chance to get any low-income home-buying support… not to mention rental support or any housing support at all.
That’s not just about me. A significant rise in homelessness — and all the dimensions of costs that go with that — is a great thing for a great country, right?
Or not… I grew up in a country where homelessness was rife. It was a third-world country and didn’t have our resources. We have no excuse.
fill it out for a replacement copy (not an original copy), send them my passport (the original, not a copy — gulp), and trust them to get that and the card back to me via snail mail.
For a change, there’s no fee.
It’s an interesting leap of faith. After being so stunningly betrayed, almost to being killed off, by the SSA (which, in Oakland, lost, delayed, destroyed, and poisoned my Disability app for years; I documented their illegal shenanigans, and was granted instant SSDI when I moved East and submitted my records) and the post office (where, in Alameda County, they stole my mail regularly, especially anything from the government and insurance company), it’s definitely an interesting leap of faith to trust these organizations with my most valuable documents and this aspect of my future. I’m hoping that East continues to be East for me, and West remains out West.
Alternative, more realistic credit reporting is in reach!
Another new piece of info I learned is that there is a legitimate, useful credit reporting agency that’s consumer-driven, rather than financial-corp driven. Major lenders, including lenders who work with those of us who are not rich, have signed on to receive their credit reports.
This agency is called PRBC, which stands for Pay Rent, Build Credit. You plug in your monthly payments, including phone bills, utility bills, dental bills or court fines on a payment plan, rent, and so forth; any recurring payments — and all of that goes to building your credit history.
These things are normally ignored, oddly enough; only consumer-debt-based payments and tax problems — the most prejudicial and the least useful of the normal person’s financial activity, if you think bout it — are normally included in credit scoring, and somehow this is considered normal and appropriate.
Those of us who’ve always paid rent and phone and kept the electricity on, even when we lost everything else, can really benefit from this. I wish I could backdate it 7 years, as that record would do me a lot of good in the mortgage market.
I ALWAYS paid rent. I did without food to pay rent. I let the phone go to pay rent — and I still feel an aching stab of gratitude to the 3 friends who took turns keeping my phone connected, most notably the last one, who stuck around longest and was there when I finally got paid.
I’d have loved to put THAT on my credit report. It would do a lot of good against the debt-based credit I couldn’t maintain when I couldn’t work and had not yet gotten the barely-adequate disability payments that put me back on track for ongoing survival.
If you’ve had to trash your consumer debt in order to survive, but you’re still finding ways to keep a roof over your head and utility bills paid, it may be worth the fairly small effort of signing up with PRBC.
Downside: putting up with more junk mail. Upside: having your real-life level of responsibility documented in your favor.
I still mull the real value of having credit if you can live on a cash basis and don’t ever want to make payments on a car or mortgage, and you live in an area where getting rental housing doesn’t involve credit checks. As long as you stay in those stringent parameters, there’s no need for credit.
However, I really want to get a bit of property so I can have whatever pets I like. I really want to have the option of replacing my good and sturdy, well-adapted vehicle in the fullness of time, without being obliged to pay the full price up front. We shall see.
For me, it opens up options, and after 15 years of having fewer and fewer options all the time, I’ve rather enjoyed the opening-up of recent times. I’m motivated to generate even more options.
So, I’ve signed up for PRBC and today I’m off to the post office to send off my form and passport (gulp) to get a copy of my SS card so I can apply for an Open Sky credit card and start building positive credit. I hope I can keep it together and on track this weekend to write that letter to my old bank, and get that in the mail next week, to address the biggest stain on my negative credit.
I might be slow on these tasks (this represents 5 months of pixilated — and pixelated — brain-work)…
… but, by gum, I intend to get there in the end.
Update: Christmas Credit Scores
I didn’t say this because I was too embarrassed, but I had an initial credit rating in the 530-550 range (or, as one banker put it, “Very little credit, and no positive credit”, which is a terrible thing to hear.) I think I now have the best credit score of my life, a handy thing to have in hard times:
Regarding the second image (710), it’s worth noting that the key to a solid and sustainable credit score is accuracy. I intend to resolve every error so that the credit I’m looking at is really mine, because I only control my actions and can only monitor my activities.
Once others get into the mix, even if they temporarily elevate my score, that won’t hold up to the kind of inquiry made in significant searches, like mortgages — or like the incredibly invasive and expensive financial inquiries made by Massachusetts Medicare, called MassHealth.
…Because going over thousands of poor peoples’ finances with a nit-comb, making sure they’re not able to generate any savings, prepare at all for uncertain futures, or give back to charities they’ve used, is such a great way to encourage good financial practices and a terrific use of tight taxpayer dollars… sigh.
Can’t they see the forest? Nope; too many trees in the way! They’re too busy dealing with that to look up and notice what they’re, um, actually doing…