This is a whirlwind journal entry, a roller coaster journal entry with a bit of resolution at the end of this entry. This first part starts out with me being angry enough to slip in speech just a little bit……
I was ranting to a close friend about the medication I was to ‘make last’. It is so offensive. It felt like him saying to me, ‘I know this isn’t anywhere close to enough. I know you’re going to be in pain but here is a tiny, tiny bit of relief.’ My pride kicked in. You can not do this to me. I am so angry. How dare you call me twice and rub salt in my wounds? So, while talking to Snow I said, “I know they didn’t think I was going to be okay with it!!!!!! I said, you can’t toss me scraps and think I’ll be okay with it. They’ve got the wrong nigga for that!!!” …. oh crap……..
I have spent the last 5 years doing my utmost to clean up my language. I always worried it would be the F-bomb I’d drop, not the N-word. Right now I’m pushed to the brink. How many times do you need to call me to tell me I can’t come back and that you’re not giving me refills? The 30 days are up. Why are you calling me?
The last few minutes of my therapy session were spent trying to get my breathing under control. I was almost hyperventilating. I didn’t expect to hear from the GP’s office again.
During my session, Dr. D asked what I can do to try to find a doctor that is long term. I told him. I don’t need a long term doctor. If I end up getting a doctor I can tolerate for 2 or three years then that’s fine. I’m not getting a new doctor I intend to commit to. That’s when I switched. Right there, as big as day I was at the doctor’s office at age 9 in a defining moment.
I was 9 when I had my first full pap smear to try to explain why I had so many infections. I was nine years old. After he did the exam he said, “You were so polite.” Yup, I politely laid there and I was polite when he asked me questions about who may have touched me down there and what did I think the scratches inside were from. I was polite, but I am no longer polite when handed abuse because I do not have to be. I do not take scraps like I’m some dog and I do not lay down and accept abuse. You’ve got the wrong woman for that.
Just after that conversation with my therapist, just after getting my breathing under control the old GP called with a small bone.
I started thinking to myself, I wonder if they cancelled all my refills or just this dog biscuit one. I called the my pharmacist to figure it out. I ended up getting the pharmacist I know very well and have worked with for about 6 years now. After talking to him, I have a final word concerning medication. The senior physician who gave me refills after my G.P. denied them called in a full 30 day supply of the muscle relaxer. I didn’t ask him for it.
the senior G.P. sent a note to the pharmacy saying what I have in the system remains as is, but there shouldn’t be a request sent to him for new scripts or more refills.
This morning before therapy, I set up two appointments for new doctors. I have one on the 7th and the next later in the month.
I am shaking. I literally feel as if I will lose my mind. I feel like I have to concentrate to keep my head from twitching. I have cried most of this day away. At this point it’s almost a relief to do so. I cried all through therapy. I cried after therapy. I cried at home after meeting with Snow. I figure it’ll be helpful.
I go in to see Dr. D this coming Friday.
I am exhausted.