Why I Avoid the Doctor

I try to stay out of doctor’s offices. I manage my health, I listen to my body, and I only go when it is an absolute necessity. But lately, my body decided to throw a few curveballs my way, forcing me back into the matrix of modern medicine. Let me tell you, the system is broken, and the customer service is even worse.

It started with a scary tightening in my right calf that worked its way up into my thigh, accompanied by head pressure and a whole-body tingle. Naturally, you think the worst—a blood clot. I went to my primary cardiologist, who knows my history. Thankfully, he ruled out a clot, but he ordered a spine X-ray to check for a pinched nerve and handed me two prescriptions to get me through.

Simple enough, right? Wrong.

One of the prescriptions was Tramadol. Here’s the kicker: I have a history of seizures. Tramadol is notorious for lowering the seizure threshold. The pharmacy flagged it, so I did what any responsible patient would do—I called the cardiologist's office to get a safe alternative.

You would think giving your name and date of birth clearly at the start of a call would help. Instead, I got an attitude, a receptionist who couldn't remember my last name two seconds after I said it, and an answer that boiled down to: "We lost your X-ray, we’ll look for it, and the doctor will call you back sometime." Click.

Meanwhile, I had a deep cleaning at the dentist. The hygienist scraped so hard below my gum line I thought she was digging for gold. Ever since I left, the entire left side of my mouth has been completely dry, chalky, and tingly. My inner lip is literally sticking to my teeth. When I called the dentist just to ask a simple, factual question—“Hey, did the hygienist use a local numbing agent or specific material that caused this?”—the defensive walls went straight up.

The receptionist argued with me about who did the cleaning. Then the office manager jumped on the phone with a stern, aggressive voice, treating me like I was causing trouble and assuming I was calling to complain about pain. I never said I was in pain. I just wanted to know what was put in my mouth!

It is exhausting. Front-desk staff are moving on robotic auto-pilot, checking boxes instead of listening to the human being on the other end of the line. When they mess up, they get confrontational instead of helpful. It makes you feel like you shouldn't even give them your information until they beg for it.

At this point, my phone is on silent and every single one of them can talk to my voicemail. I am staying home, drinking my water, tracking my symptoms, and protecting my peace.

We have all been there—stuck in the medical matrix, dealing with missing records, or getting managed by a defensive office staff. I want to hear from you. Drop a comment below and share your own doctor or dentist office horror stories. Let’s vent together!

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I'm just saying, #igotissues. What about you? 🦋 

I called ahead. So why did I still have to go somewhere else?

I’m getting everything together for my international passport interview, and one of the things on my checklist was getting my passport application notarized. Simple, right? Well, not exactly. 

I've been a customer of my bank for about 30 years. So when I needed to take care of this passport paperwork, I thought, let me call ahead. I called and explained exactly what I needed. I told them I had an international passport application that needed to be notarized as well as a passport picture that needed to be signed. But I didn't stop there. I specifically explained it had to be the bank manager. The response was "yes, we can do that." But because I wanted to make sure there wasn't any misunderstanding, I clarified. It has to be the manager. I was put on hold. When they came back, I was told "yes, they could most definitely do that," and that I could walk into the branch and the manager would take care of it. Perfect. That was exactly what I needed to know. So I made the trip. When I arrived, I gave them my information and explained what I needed. I didn't get to speak with the manager directly. Instead, the rep took my application and photo in the back to the manager. When she returned I was told they could notarize the passport application, but the manager would not be the person doing it. Wait. What? That wasn't what I was told when I had called to confirm. And then there was the passport photo. The back of the photo needed to be signed to attest that the person in the photo was me. I explained that, but was told they couldn't do that. And that's when I started wondering, did the person I spoke to on the phone actually heard what I asked? Because sometimes people hear a keyword and answer a general question instead of the specific one that was actually asked. 

I wasn't trying to waste anybody's time, especially not my own, so that's why I called ahead. I wanted to know, before making the trip, if the right person was available to handle what I needed done. Had the answer been no, that would have been okay. Tell me no. I can work with no. I can make other arrangements. What I can't work with is being told yes, making the trip based on that information, and then finding out when I arrive that the answer is actually something different. That's the part that frustrated me. 

Fortunately, I had another option. I went to another bank where I have been a customer for 14 years. And the manager there, even though he didn't usually handle international passport matters, took the time to listen to my request and checked my banking record. He confirmed that I'd been with them for 14 years, came back, signed the passport application, and even wrote on the back of the photograph and signed it. And just like that. I was on my way.

The lesson? Plan ahead, ask specific questions, and allow time for surprises. That way, you get it all done days in advance and you can focus on packing for your trip instead of stressing over getting that checklist completed. Just practical timing and follow through. 

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Candud Imterview with DF Quin

You are ivited to watch an honest and inspiring conversation with DJ Quinb as we talk about faith, relationships, living single, travel, boundaries  grief, healing self confidence,  work, money and enjoying life. 

Click the link below and enjoy. 

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Im just saying  I got issues.  What about you? 🦋 

Click here to launch video

Boys to Men - A New Perspective

When I raised my son, I thought being a good mother meant fixing everything. If he had a problem, I wanted to solve it. If he struggled, I wanted to make it easier. I was his mother, and protecting him came naturally.

But raising a child—and then watching that child become an adult—has taught me something I couldn't fully understand back then:

Struggle builds character.

My son is 33 now, and our relationship has evolved. He has reminded me that he isn't simply my “child.” He is my son—a grown man with his own thoughts, opinions, experiences, and voice.

That distinction may seem small to me, but it means something to him. And I've learned that loving my children means being open enough to hear what they are saying, even when their perspective isn't the same as mine.

When my son was growing up, one of the things I intentionally did differently was allow him to have a voice. I didn't always agree with him, and I still had the final say when I needed to, but I allowed him to express himself and have some say in the things that affected him. Looking back, I believe that mattered.

He has even told me that the way I raised him—the sacrifices I made, the things I did to make sure he had what he needed, and the way I allowed him to question things—helped shape his ability to recognize when something doesn't feel right. But he also taught me something in return - that I didn't always allow him to struggle.

My instinct as a mother was to fix things. If my child came to me with a problem, my first thought was, “How can I make this better?” I protected, provided, solved, and sometimes buffered him from experiences he needed to navigate for himself.

It wasn't until he became an adult that I realized something: by fixing everything, I may have prevented him from learning that he was capable of fixing some things himself. He had to enter the real world and discover that the world wasn't going to cushion every fall. And that's when my mother's heart had to learn another lesson: Sometimes loving your child means letting them struggle just enough to discover their own strength. Not abandoning them. Not withholding help when help is truly needed. But knowing when to step back and let them spread their wings. That is something I would do differently if I had the opportunity to raise my children again. I would still love fiercely. I would still protect whole-heartedly. I would still provide totally, but I would allow a little more struggle.Because struggle builds character.

And now, at 33, my son doesn't need me to mother him in the same way I did when he was a boy. Sometimes he needs a mother. Sometimes he needs a confidant. Sometimes he needs someone to listen while he works something out for himself. And sometimes he just needs to vent without me trying to fix it. That has probably been one of the hardest lessons for me as a mother: learning that my job changes as my children grow. 

There was a time when I carried the responsibility of raising them on my shoulders. Today, I can put the mother hat down. I can take that weight off my shoulders and simply embrace the wonderful man and woman my children have become.

Do I get it right every time? Absolutely not. But I'm still learning. And perhaps that's the beautiful thing about raising children: we think we're teaching them how to become adults, only to discover that they are teaching us how to become better parents along the way.

My son taught me to listen. He taught me that having a voice matters. He taught me that being his mother doesn't mean I have to solve every problem. And he taught me that sometimes the greatest gift I can give him is the freedom to discover what he can do for himself.

He is still my son. But he is no longer the little boy I was responsible for guiding through every step.

He's a man. And I'm grateful that I get to know him as one. I'm just saying, I got issues. What about you? 🦋 

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Read the original blog here. 

Why Do People Lie? A refreshed I Got Issues reflection

Back in 2012, I wrote this piece with a lot of fire. I still believe honesty matters. But now, after more years of watching people, including myself, I see it's a little more complicated. People lie for so many reasons. Fear, like fear of disappointing someone. Shame, like not wanting to be seen as weak or messy, and sometimes it's about control, steering how someone else reacts.

But the cost adds up. Lies strain trust, even small ones, and once that trust breaks,repair can be slow, sometimes impossible.repair can be slow, sometimes impossible. I'm just saying,  #igotissues, what about you? 🦋 

And if you'd like to revisit the original, revisit the old post here. 

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Silence Isn't Quiet. Sometimes It’s Louder Than Noise.

I just got back from my fourth silent retreat, and once again I'm reminded why I believe people should experience something like this at least once because it can be life-changing.

Imagine stepping away from technology, people, responsibilities, the constant hustle and bustle. No phone, no social media, no television, no outside noise competing for your attention. Just you, nature, your thoughts, your breath, and your body. For those days, aren't checking your phone or rushing around. You begin noticing things. Sometimes, even the silence feels noisy. The amplified sounds of spoons knocking plates, chairs dragged across the floor, or the deep sigh of someone who can't speak. And in that quiet, mindfulness sneaks in. You start moving differently. Lifting the chair instead of dragging it. Handling your spoon gently, moving with more care. 

That awareness doesn't have to stay at a retreat. You can bring it home. More presence, more attention to the little things. And maybe that is the real lesson, sometimes we don't need more noise more conversations or more distractions.

Sometimes, we just need to be still long enough to hear. And that's an issue worth paying attention to. I'm just saying, I got issues. What about you? 🦋

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Merchants passing on 3.5% creditt card fees to patrons

So when did everything start coming with a fee? I swear, sometimes it feels like if somebody could figure out a way to charge us for breathing air, they would. But I know the world has always been about money. Lately, I've become more aware of just how many little fees are being added to things that used to be a, part of doing business. 

Sometimes those fees are so small you barely even notice. But they add up. I started noticing this years ago when I worked at an auto repair shop. The owner told me he wanted to start adding a percentage when customers paid with a credit card. Because he had seen other businesses do it. At the time, I thought, "hmm, okay." Then I started seeing it in more places. You go somewhere and there's a sign telling you that a 3.5 percentage will be added if you use your credit card. You buy tickets to an event and suddenly there's a "processing fee". You see a "convenience fee". You look at your receipt and there's another charge that you weren't expecting. And I'm thinking "Wait a minute. I'm already paying the bill. Why am I also paying your cost for accepting my payment?" 

My mom taught me something years ago that I've always tried to live by. "Pay your credit card bill in full and on time." Why? Because she didn't want the credit card company making money off of me through interest. So imagine my surprise when I realized that even when I pay my credit card off in full, I may still be paying an additional fee to the business simply because I chose to use my credit card. And here's the thing. I'm not saying don't use your credit card. I'm saying "Pay attention." Because once I became aware of these fees, I started making different choices. If I see that a business charges an additional fee for using a credit card. I might take out my checkbook. I might carry cash. I might ask whether there's a different price depending on how I pay. 

Today, I went somewhere to get an apostille seal on a document. There was a sign clearly posted letting customers know that using a credit card would result in an additional 3.5% charge. I was gonna use my credit card but after seeing the sign opted to pay cash instead. So happy it was just three dollars because I had it. So I paid the three dollars in cash and kept it moving. 

That little moment reminded me of something. Sometimes it's not about the amount. It's about having the information and making the choice. And that's why I'm writing this. I'm not telling anybody how they should pay their bills or what payment method they should use. I'm simply saying be informed. Look for signs and look at your receipts. You may see words like "credit card surcharge", "convenience fee", "service fee", "processing fee", but don't automatically assume they're all the same thing. Ask what the fee's for. If you're about to make a purchase, ask, "is there an additional fee for using my credit card?" If there is, then you can decide whether the convenience of using your card is worth the extra charge. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. But at least you know. And that's really my point. Because if we're not paying attention, we can swipe, tap, sign and walk away without realizing that we just paid an extra percentage on top of what we already owed. 

Here's another thing I've learned. Just because a fee is small doesn't mean it isn't money. 3 dollars here 5 dollars there a percentage over here, a processing fee over there. Before you know it, you've spent money you didn't have to simply because you weren't aware of the charge. So, the next time you're getting ready to tap that card take a second. Look for the sign. Ask the question. Check the receipt. And if there's another way to pay without the additional fee, then decide what makes sense for you. I'm not trying to tell anybody what to do. I'm just saying, "Know what you're paying for." Because, apparently, these days even paying your bill comes with a bill. I'm just saying, I got issues. What about you? 🦋