Does the Crazy Train Stop Here?

You bet your a** it does…early and often, too.

I don't know.  Maybe it's the air or water pollution, ingesting GMO foods, mercury in seafood, antibiotics in animal feed and dairy products, or all of the above, but the stoopid in the medical sector here reminds me of The Blob - without Steve McQueen.  These people can suck in huge amounts of personal data, can't find it (or too lazy to look for it) when it's needed, and want more. 

From the "Here We Go Again" department: The Christiana surgeon's scheduling nurse called a while ago, there had been a cancellation and she could fit me in today for an appointment at 2:25 pm. Again, totally ignoring my schedule and logistical information she's had for 2 weeks. I have blood work, transfusion, and recap consultation with the oncologist here this afternoon. She KNEW this. Or, should have known it.  But,  she didn't.

She gave a sigh of exasperation and mumbled that I was making her life difficult.  I almost blew. Instead, I said nothing. Offered nothing.  She was waiting for a sign, some suggestion from me.  It wasn't coming, honey.

After a brief silence she said, "what are we to do with you." The door was left wide open. I suggested that she check my file before making assumptions and wasting my time, that her scheduling issues were not my problem. In case she forgot, I live 60+ miles away, I am the patient, but so far, no concessions had been made on my behalf. 

"Well, I'll have to call you back when something else comes up."  I reminded her of my pre-scheduled appointment on 12/17 - she sounded surprised; didn't even have that info at hand.  

History Check! Ya see, the original idea was the surgeon wanted to see me prior to that date to declare that I had "slipped into acute Leukemia" last month. Or, not.  Daisy Dumbfuck here, 'scheduling nurse' for a high-powered, in-demand hematologist had no idea and there were no notes in my file to suggest anything of the sort.

"Maybe there need be better communication between you and the doctor," I said.  I was no longer angry. No longer cared about her issues or her inability to fill a vacancy in the surgeon's schedule. I just didn't give a shit anymore.

Then she asked about my current medications I decided I'd done enough of her job and said, "look it up, nothing has changed in the months since I've seen the doctor. Good-bye." And, ended the call. Thankfully, she didn't bother to call back.

I cannot stress how close I was to a huge spiked eggnog at that moment.

This will be brought to the oncologist's attention this afternoon.  Not that it will matter much. I'll again request a different specialist and likely hear the same song as before.  He is the best.  Jesus was his half brother.  He walks on water. They don't get any better.  And blah, blah, blah.  I am in no mood for more brain-washing bullshit. 

To defuse any possible spontaneous combustion the negative energy was channeled into changing the bed linens.  (Yeah, go ahead and laugh. It works.) Always a time-consuming, painful, and ultimately exhaustive process. There was much pillow punching, to be sure.

Now, I'm starving.  Time for a late lunch and shower before hitting the road for more madcap medical mayhem and hysterical hematological hootenanny.

Where did I put that Kazoo?

Today is like a very bad reality show, and I don't watch TV.

And so it goes.

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