Called me ostensibly to ask about my doctor’s appointment. I get out one sentence and she interrupts me to talk about them having friends over, about her dog, blah blah blah. Then gets back to my appointment, I say something about getting hit with extra charges because my insurance didn’t cover some stuff and immediately back to her shit. Then back to asking me about the appointment, but clearly not having listed to a goddamned thing I said three minutes earlier.
I guess I should be thankful that she didn’t spend half the call bitching about my dad.
Chimera, that sounds like what talking to my younger sister is like. She has many good qualities, but sympathetic listening is not one of them. The information exchange between us is about one piece from me for about 20 from her.
Hey, you were the one who started that whispering shit in the first place. If you can’t say it out loud, don’t fucking say it. Actually, you should have said it out loud and let the chips fall. You weren’t wrong; you just shouldn’t have been whispering.
I’m normally very calm, especially when there’s a horrible emergency (actually moreso then), but the combination of trying really hard to remain calm and positive with him while he’s being a mini-butthead and trying to figure out what the hell is wrong (or isn’t) is getting to me.
And somebodies, such as my grandmother, already ate once a day (with occasional pauses); once she’d recovered from the walk-in surgery itself, she didn’t need more diet adjustments than “do not eat half a tablet of chocolate in one seating”.
People who eat two meals/day are likely to need to adjust, becoming more grazer-y.
overly, my sympathies. On one hand it’s very important to be proactive, early diagnoses, blah blah, but on the other sometimes it seems like we’re at the point where sneezing once (or simply being the youngest kid in the class) can get you sent to the school nurse. 5yo kids are mini-buttheads only in that they’re short; by composition, they’re 100% butthead.
And if you have something critical to say? Say it out loud, we’re all adults here, we can take it. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. But if you whisper it and refuse to repeat it when the boss asks, we all know that you’re just being a nasty bitch using a public situation to get your digs in when no one can retaliate.
I pit Paxil withdrawl symptoms. Only wish I knew back when I got put on it what I do now and would have gone running away from the shrink who prescribed 'em.
I would also like to pit the doctor I just quit going to for convincing me for almost a year that I had rheumatoid arthritis, only to have that diagnosis shot down by my new doctor, who ran the PROPER bloodwork which says that no, I don’t have RA but I do have Fibromyalgia. While they both suck whale cock for gas money, at least I’m not going to fall apart at the seams.
Regarding the dumbest of the nincompoopish letters published in today’s Wall St. Journal in response to their brain-dead op-ed of last week on climate change:
Dear Fool:
When you refer to the dangers of “orthodoxy” by climate scientists on this issue and say “Ask Galileo”, did it remotely occur to you that Galileo’s troubles were with the Catholic Church, not the scientific community? And that for every persecuted Galileo down through history, there’ve been a zillion* cranks and dingbats who’ve been deservedly ignored and scoffed at?
Thanks purplehorsehoe - I just keep hoping she’ll one day realize she got what she wanted…she got to keep her boyfriend, she got physical custody of the kids, and she has an ex who loves his kids, remains active in their lives, and wants nothing more than to get along amiably. I just don’t get why she has to get so antagonistic with me.
Forgot to add that this would have been much more important in previous generations, centuries, millenia, when food supplies were intermittent and fatty food was rare. It let the body go for weeks on bread, beer, and onions with no irritation, while being prepared to digest a sudden feast without losing too many of calories to gut bacteria (with accompanying bloating and pain) because there wasn’t enough bile ready to make them absorbable.
Well, it appears I’m screwed. My doctor’s visit today was not positive. “Yes, that appears to be gall bladder. The only treatment is to remove it, but since you don’t have insurance you’ll just have to try to manage it with diet.”
“You don’t need sleeping pills. You need to adjust your sleep schedule.” WHAT fucking sleep schedule? I can’t remember the last time I slept for more than 3 hours in a row.
So she’s strangely worried about clholesterol and thyroid levels, which I could give a nekkid rat’s ass about at this point. She sends me to the lab downstairs. Finally get checked in and sent to the next room, where a very arrogant woman demands my paperwork. I wasn’t given any paperwork.
I’m already on the verge of tears at the prospect of more nights of no sleep and this whole gall bladder thing, plus I’m about to start my once-every-six-months-fuck-menopause periods and I am PMSing like a motherfucker. I go back to the check in room and tell the lady I don’t have paperwork. She tells me I don’t need paperwork, gets up and goes in back. I hear arrogant woman ranting about “she doesn’t have paperwork”.
Oh hell no. There is no way I am letting some pissed off arrogant bitch near my hard to stick veins. I go back upstairs and explain this to the nice lady at the front desk. During the explanation I burst into tears.
Another nurse takes me back and does the blood draw and I go home.
At least before the appointment I had the hope of something being done to help. Now I have to face a future of a horribly limited diet, pain, and no sleep. Just fuckin’ shoot me, please.
SCL, that fucking sucks. I hope you can find a way to get this worked out.
Right now, I’ve had it with TMI. What IS it with people who have to tell you every little detail of their bodily functions? No, I don’t care about that huge cyst on your back, or the rash on your testicles. I don’t need to hear about your visit to your gynaecologist, or what your latest prostate exam, or the results of your colonoscopy.
People, I don’t want to know about the size of your bowel movements, how heavy your periods are, how frequently you piss, or the color of your boogers, or how itchy your yeast infection is. Okay?
Do some people have no pride? Discretion is your friend. I’d be way too embarassed to tell people if I had diaarhea, or whatever.
It’s one thing to talk about your problems with close friends. (My friends and I always used to bitch about our periods and stuff) It’s entirely another to tell the cashier at the grocery store that you have PMS and that’s why you’re buying so much chocolate.
Just…keep it to yourself. Have some pride. Gah!
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and give myself an enema, and then drink my Kaopectate! After which, I will spray my athletes foot and rub medicine on that big wart on my ass.
It’s generic. A 3 month supply is all of $6 at Walmart. Base cost, no insurance needed. Even taking double dose*, it’s still only $4 a month.
It doesn’t help me get to sleep, but by god, it sure helps me stay there. I sleep so much better when I’m on it. When I do wake up in the middle of the night, and I still do, I fall back asleep much faster and easier.
Prescription is usually 25mg. It comes in tiny 50mg pills. No chance of harm at 50mg/day since the “theraputic” dose when used for it’s original purpose (depression, anxiety) went as high as 600mg/day.
For fuck’s sake, if you’ve made me come up with options for the day and possibilities of what to do, you PICK ONE. Why are you making me have to decide everything?!
And have sex 15 times and make sure to come back and tell us all about it. :rolleyes: People way,* way* overshare.
SCL, I know I mentioned this upthread, but can you not apply for state health insurance- Medicaid or whatever they call it (here’s it’s called AHCCCS, pronounced “access”)? It’s for people just in your position. I really, really want you to get the medical care that you need and deserve. In some places, if you apply for food stamps, they automatically apply for healthcare for you.
For sleeping, have you tried doxylamine? It’s the generic for Unisom, it’s over the counter, and Kroger stores have it for $4 and change around here. It really helps me to get to sleep.
Hiding file types is the worst mix of inefficient and insulting I’ve ever seen. The killer though is when you rename a text file, for instance, from ABC to ABC.xml. You stupid dumbass Windows machine, have you EVER in your LIFETIME seen ANYONE call a file ABC.xml.FUCKING.txt? NO. I’m renaming the file extension. SO I might just fucking want to rename it to XML rather than XML.TXT, you flaming bag of donkey irrumators. So stop resetting my defaults and let me rename the damn file extension without having to suck Bill Gates’ unsheathed light saber.
So, we’ve had the idea of loss at a personal level in humanity since, I suspect, there’s been humans. And yet, we haven’t come up with a way to deal with it that doesn’t fucking HURT so much! Mourning process? Sucks. Mourning process for someone who ain’t dead? SUCKS. Arrrgh! Why isn’t there some better way to do this?!
After which, I will spray my athletes foot and rub medicine on that big wart on my ass.