It was probably a bad idea

In 1995 the husband and I went to see the movie Outbreak. This was my idea because I had heard an interview and review of the movie on the radio and thought it would be a nice movie and dinner date. But it was not to be. The movie freaked me out, I let it mess with my head and afterward at dinner I couldn't even eat. All I could think about was getting home and locking all the doors while armed with a can of Lysol. Eventually I calmed down to my normal germaphobe state of mind and even made some jokes about global killing germs.

This past Thursday the husband was watching football and I had a head pounding sinus headache. So I tucked myself in bed and watched a movie. Guess what I watched? Contagion. Because I'm a moron. This movie didn't freak me out but I did wake up sick and have remained sick through the weekend and still today. 

Hurricane Sandy saw to it that it rained everyday of last week, by Wednesday the dog was bouncing off the walls. She needed a walk so I took her both Thursday and Friday morning, in the rain. Yes we, the sissy dog that is afraid of rain and me the one with newly formed germs swirling around in my veins, walked in the rain. This is about three or four bad ideas already right?
 
I called my doctors office this morning, that hates me, my doctor doesn't hate me, the witches in the office however do not care if I live or die. My doctor is apparently 'booked up solid' the whole week. Which translates into 'we can't squeeze you in because that would involve extra work for us, we know we are in the health care profession but you sick people kind of throw off our day and we have stuff to do.' I was told to go to urgent care.

"Insert a string of profanity laced sentences here."

So now I sit and wait for my possible strep throat to mutant into a global catastrophic event. I, the host, plan to vote tomorrow come hell or high water or bubonic plague. So everyone watch out, I'm going out in public tomorrow and taking my germs with me.

The certain chain of events that lead to the realization I'm running out of patience.

Where can I get more of that? Because mine is wearing thin and I need some more.
Let me be perfectly clear. (A little Obama lingo there.) At no point during the unfolding of these events were any Senior Citizens harmed in any way, mentally or physically. I, on the other hand, well I have issues now, I probably need therapy but won't seek it.

1.) I went to the doctor's appointment that was almost impossible to get because the office workers hate me. The doctor thinks I'm funny and refilled my prescription and told me to come back in 6 months. I should probably start trying to make the appointment now, but I'm holding out hope that he fires all the bitches there and hires nice people.

2.) I have to pee. And so hungry I could eat the ass of a skunk.

3.) I'm just going to drop off the prescription at the handy dandy drive-thru. Those of us born after 1917 know how a drive-thru works, I'm just sayin'.

4.) There is a car in front of me, I wait. I wait through an entire U2 song. This is where the patience issue comes into play. I jester with the hands in the air.

5.) The car begins to move, then stops. I can't get my car to the drive-thru window, I can't do it.

6.) I raise my hand ready to slam on my horn, when the car in front of me door opens. A very feeble arm attached to it and a Senior Citizen gets out of the car. My jaw drops open and hangs there as I watch this woman slowly get out of her car, walks to the end of her car, waves to me with a big friendly smile and says thank you. Thank you? For what?

7.) Dear God she bent over and picked something up, waved it in the air and said, "Here it is." Still smiling, she returned to her car and drove away. I inched up to the window and the cashiers jaw was dropped as far down as mine. "I almost honked my horn at her. She'd have jumped out of her Depends."

This dear sweet woman, who I almost gave a heart attack, face is etched in my brain forever. I want to take her to tea, give her a hug and I don't know maybe pay her electric bill or something.

I blame my hormones, women can use hormones for just about everything. Mine have been misfiring for months now. But the patience thing, I think I'll work on that.

An open letter to all office workers in a doctors office

I'm naming names. Hey guess what? I just snapped.
First of all let me get this out of the way. There are angels that work in doctors office's, I've met them, Cindy comes to mind. That woman worked past closing hours to find me an appointment ASAP when I was dazed and on the verge of tears. So being nice to patients - do-able.
Julie, you can kiss my ass. Thank you so very much for letting me run out of my prescription. We are patients, not a sack of potato's to schlep around at your convenience. We call when we are sick, when we need medicine, when we're ready to cry, when we are trying to get our kids taken care of, when we need advice, help, a caring voice on the other end of the line. Let us talk to our doctor damn it.
Hey you, I forgot your name, when I call you and make an appointment for my kid and tell you he's going to run out of his prescription before this appointment. Don't you dare piss on me and tell me it's raining, bitch. "Oh just call it in and they will see he has an appointment, they'll refill it." Then you leave me a message on my answering machine at home so I can't get a hold of you because it's after hours when I get home. I can't wait to call you tomorrow on your Saturday hours and if you think I won't call the doctors answering service and insist on talking to him to tell him how incompetent you are, think again. I've done it before.

I feel a little better now.
Debbie don't read this to mom.

Spending the day with my horny teenager

"Your blood pressure is 132 over 82."
"Is that good?"
"It's a little high."
This is when my brain started knocking on the inside of my skull, snapping my head to attention and getting my nose out of an outdated magazine. I started to listen to the conversation Boy #3 was having with the cute, little medical assistant.
When the doctor came in I asked him about the blood pressure, he took it again and it was 118 over 70, huh.

"So, " I asked Boy #3 in the parking lot, "when the cute medical assistant...."
"She was hot."
"Yeah, when the hot medical assistant takes your blood pressure it's high and when the guy doctor takes it, it's normal?"
"Yeah."
"Then what are we thinking here, the blood pressure cuff is some kind of Gaydar?"
"She was hot."

And this concludes the two posts I received while spending the day with my horny teenager.