Today I went to the neurologist with my mom. That doctor said we needed to increase the painkiller dosage and do an X‑ray—which we’ve already had several times. And as a final touch, she prescribed a medication that’s absolutely contraindicated for people with kidney failure.

When Mom came out of the office and showed me the prescriptions, I lost it.

I kicked up a fuss. No, I didn’t yell or even swear. I just “talked.” But in such a way that the doctor ran to the head of the department; the head called in her colleagues. I gave my speech there too. In the end, they convened an emergency commission.

Turns out (!!!) that for these cases, minimally invasive surgeries are possible—even for people over 80!

So now we have a whole bunch of referrals, including a consultation with a neurosurgeon, which you’d normally have to wait months for. At the commission, they gave Mom a full examination and also offered valuable advice regarding her other conditions—which you usually never get. And, of course, painkillers should not be increased by all means (we knew it before).

That’s how it goes: you can only get anything done if you kick the door open and start yelling at everyone.

Before menopause, I’d only be capable of this if someone really pushed my buttons. Now I just switch into this mode with a click.

It's good to be us ))