Bedside Manner? WHO NEEDS IT. It is for SUCKERS.

You know, I read a lot of blogs, and some of them talk about important things, like politics, or human rights, or intelligent reviews of things. And I could do that. I could totally do that.

But instead, I bring you: 

A FOLLOWUP VISIT WITH DR. LADY-BUSINESS 

As some of you might remember (except I did send the men away that day, and I’m warning you right now, men who are not into these things, you might want to go do manly things right now. And men that are perverts, you should stop reading just because ew), last month I had a couple of visits with Dr. Lady-Business. I escaped with my parts intact, so I considered that a win. 

In order to not have Dr. Lady-Business remove my internal organs, he prescribed pills which made me into a total and utter insane person who cried over things like OMG I AM OUT OF ICE CREAM SANDWICHES and I THINK THE SUMMER IS ENDING. Those symptoms passed, eventually, so I thought I was in the clear. 

I was so not in the clear. 

Two weeks ago apparently I had a very bad reaction to the pills which I will not detail. Suffice it to say I would not wish this reaction on my worst enemy. (OK, that’s a lie. And you know me too well for me to get away with that. You know I totally would. I hate my worst enemy and if this happened to her she’d deserve it, and more, because of the bitchy over-the-top things she did to me. But I digress.)  

I called Dr. Lady-Business’s office after a few days of thinking I was pretty much on death’s door. Now, you’re wondering, aren’t you, why I wouldn’t call sooner? Because I am pretty stoic about things. I mean, yes, I bitch and moan and think I’m dying, but that’s all a front, really. I usually don’t even bother going to the doctor for things. So for me to call the doctor about something means something is very, very wrong. 

My conversation with Dr. Lady-Business’s office: 

Me: I need to make an appointment with Dr. Lady-Business as soon as possible, please. I think I might be dying. I’m having a reaction to the medication he prescribed.

Nurse: He’s out of town.

Me: Um. OK. I can see someone else, then. I just need to be seen.

Nurse: No. You need to see Dr. Lady-Business.

Me: I don’t think this can wait. Did I mention the dying? That I might be doing?

Nurse: Yes.

Me: Hmm. OK. Thought you might not have heard me or something. I don’t think this can wait. When is he coming back from his trip?

Nurse: A week from now. I’m sure it’s nothing.

Me: What is?

Nurse: Whatever’s wrong with you.

Me: Oh, I can assure you it is.

Nurse: These pills have severe side effects. We have people calling about them all the time.

Me: What? I – no one even told me this. Why wouldn’t someone tell me this?

Nurse: I’ve said too much. You’ll really have to wait for your appointment. With Dr. Lady-Business. And only Dr. Lady-Business. On Monday.

Me: So, what if I die in the meantime?

Nurse: You won’t. Also, if you get better, please call and cancel the appointment. There are people who actually need the slot. 

Well! This was a reassuring and not-at-all rude conversation with someone you can tell TOTALLY CARES ABOUT MY IMPENDING DOOM. So I waited, and waited, and waited. And then, on Saturday morning, I started to feel better. I thought about cancelling the appointment, but I wanted to have a discussion with Dr. Lady-Business. I felt like maybe we needed to talk about some things. Like: 

Since these pills are something you expect me to take on a regular basis, will they cause these side effects regularly?

and

Am I totally dying? 

And since I have an astronomically high co-pay with my piss-poor insurance, it’s not like he wouldn’t be well-paid for his five minute conversation with me. 

I showed up yesterday and first, the parking lot is very, very small. There were two spots left. A woman pulled into one right in front of me. No, I take that back. She pulled into one and a HALF. Leaving me a half-spot. For my full-sized car. I began to back out of the parking lot, because it’s very small and you can’t turn around, and she got out of the car and started air-traffic-controlling me into the spot. I shook my head no and she started FURIOUSLY WAVING ME IN. Also, she was massively pregnant. Well, listen. I am pleased you are gestating. But I will park on the side of the road and walk to the clinic, and you just take up your 1.5 spots, lady. You are aware that even though you’re 1.5 people at the moment you don’t get 1.5 spots, or to make 1.5 decisions as to where other people park, right? 

I went in, and the nurse called me back almost immediately. Nice! Running like clockwork! Until: 

Nurse: So you’ll be seeing Dr. Lady-Business’s Colleague today.

Me: Well, on the phone the nurse told me I had to see Dr. Lady-Business.

Nurse: No. Dr. Colleague.

Me: I don’t mind, it’s just that last week? I was dying? And you told me I had to wait until this week to see Dr. Lady-Business, and only Dr. Lady-Business. So I find this all very confusing.

Nurse: GO BACK INTO THE WAITING ROOM. 

Then, after a lengthy wait, because I obviously screwed up their scheduling, I was shown back to Dr. Lady-Business’s exam room. My favorite nurse was there. She’s the only one in the office I like, because she is covered in tattoos and has a hair color not found in nature and hipster glasses. I feel like she doesn’t belong there. I enjoy her. Lydia the Tattooed Nurse told me to wait and that Dr. Lady-Business was showing around a medical student (still? It’s been over two months since my first appointment, does that med student live there?) and would I mind him watching? Since I wasn’t going to be all spread-eagled for this visit, I didn’t mind. I believe that children are our future! And that they need to learn about side effects of medication! 

Dr. Lady-Business came in, followed by the YOUNGEST MED STUDENT I’VE EVER SEEN. Seriously, Doogie. Doogie was watching my consultation. It was so off-putting I can’t even tell you. He looked like he couldn’t be more than 20. But probably he was at least 26, right? Something like that? That made me feel ancient. Poor little Doogie. He looked uncomfortable. 

Dr. Lady-Business’s office has recently upgraded to laptops for their records, and Dr. Lady-Business does not enjoy the digital age. His manner of dealing with the laptop is to bang on it, chimpanzee-style, with a loosely-clenched fist, while asking me, THE PATIENT, why it’s not working. (Once, the answer was, “I think you have to have it turned on, but I could be wrong.”) This went on for a while, and then he asked me why I was there. Here, in all its glory, is the best consultation between a doctor and patient that might have ever happened, ever. 

Me: I had severe side effects to the medication you prescribed; I wanted to discuss them. (I explained them here. I’m not going to rehash this. I guarantee you, you’re better for not knowing.)

Dr. Lady-Business: Yes.

Me: So I guess I’m wondering, first off, are these going to keep happening? On a recurring basis?

D L-B: Probably not.

Me: Probably not. Can you elaborate?

D L-B: I didn’t tell you about these side effects because the odds of them happening this severely were very slim. I would think that each month they would be less severe, until they are not severe at all.

Me: OK, so I should or should not keep taking the same exact dosage of pills that almost killed me earlier in the month? 

(Dr. Lady-Business then began grunting and smacking around his computer keyboard. I heard a muffled noise behind me; it was Doogie. Doogie attempting not to laugh. I feel really bad for Doogie. Although he is really learning what NOT to do when he goes into practice, I suppose.) 

D L-B: Yes. Keep taking them. Until December. We’ll revisit the situation in December.

Me: Okaaay….

D L-B: Did you notice any changes in mood while taking the pills?

Me: Good GOD yes. I cried over ICE CREAM SANDWICHES. And CELL PHONE COMMERCIALS. And I thought, well! I lost my mind! Until I thought to read Wikipedia.

D L-B: We really don’t recommend getting medical information online.

Me: No, you know what? I don’t recommend it, either. I recommend getting it from my doctor. Except, oh, you know what? HE DIDN’T GIVE ME ANYTHING OTHER THAN A PRESCRIPTION AND A FARE-THEE-WELL.

D L-B: Sometimes these pills cause mood swings. That might get better. It might not. It depends on the individual’s mental stability.

(muffled laugh from Doogie)

Me: I am going to pretend you didn’t just imply that I brought a bag of crazy to the table and move on in the conversation.

D L-B: Also we probably need to deal with these tumors.

Me: WHAT?

D L-B: You have tumors, right?

Me: Not that I am aware of, no.

D L-B: I don’t know if I’m looking at your chart or not. Do you think I have your chart up?

Me: I really have no way of knowing that. I’d hope so, though. Since I’m the patient you’re seeing at the moment.

D L-B: (poking laptop) Oh, yes, this is you. Yes. Tumors.

Me: So, was anyone going to call me with these test results?

D L-B: They’re not serious tumors. We don’t think, anyway.

Me: I think you’re kind of discounting my tumors.

D L-B: We’ll look more into them in December.

Me: Unless I die first because they’re the super-fast-moving death type of tumors.

D L-B: Odds are in your favor that they’re not. 

And – I am totally not even kidding? THAT WAS THE END OF THE APPOINTMENT. I hope Dr. Lady-Business signed Doogie’s permission slip so he won’t get counted as absent from kindergarten. 

On the way home, the strip club right around the corner from my office (it’s actually in a really classy part of town, so the strip club’s a little out-of-place) had a big sign up that said “We will never forget 9/11” and that was really the best thing I’d seen all day. Usually, that sign advertises coming attractions, like “Performing in October, Cherries Jubilee and Pussy Galore!” So this made the strip club both patriotic AND classy and I’m sure their clientele is richer for it. 

What did we learn from this appointment? 

I NEED A NEW LADY-BUSINESS DOCTOR. 

And that strippers love America.

Dispute not with her: she is a lunatic.

So, remember we talked the other day about Dr. Lady-Business and how I escaped with my parts all intact? Yay, right? Oh, I sent the men away that day. Well, men, sorry, I guess you might  not want to click up there because it's about lady parts and such. ANYWAY. So yeah, those of you that remember that situation, that was a total check in the win column for me, right? Instead of major invasive surgery that would leave me as barren as a wind-swept plain, I got a prescription for pills and a fare-thee-well! +1, Dr. Lady-Business, +1.

Well, I started taking the pills that night. And the next day, some strange things happened.

First, things started being very, very upsetting. No, not just "things." Everything. And by "upsetting," I mean "I would start weeping uncontrollably at the drop of a hat." Partial list of things that made me cry (and I'm not talking polite tears, here, people, I'm talking snotty boo-hooing) over the past 36 hours:

• Sam getting his soul back on an old episode of Supernatural that I just got around to watching
• How expensive groceries are
• How funny this show I was watching was and how happy I was to be watching it and how sad it was that EVERYONE COULDN'T BE WATCHING IT, EVERYONE!
• How far away Tuesday is
• How long it took my cellphone to charge
• The person who rudely pulled out in front of me out of turn at the grocery store
• The fact that my cellphone keypad is so small and I always hit the wrong letters
• Talking to my father on the phone about things that weren't even sad
• The local news
• A gigantic copy job I was given at work
• Someone asking "are you ok?"
• Seeing a photo of someone I don't like
• Getting a text from someone I love and miss

I'm self-aware enough to know that THIS ISN'T NORMAL. I mean, in a regular day, I might tear up once or twice. And honestly, it's usually over a TV show, because I'm a sap. But most of the time it's because I've laughed so hard I've brought myself to tears.

Then, flip-side! TOTAL RAGE.

Things that enraged me:

• The grocery bag boy who talks too loud (in retrospect, I feel kind of bad because I'm pretty sure he's mentally challenged)
• How slow my computer was loading because I had something I wanted to watch now dammit
• My cat jumping up and landing directly on my diaphragm because that shit is PAINFUL
• How incredibly idiotic this one guy seemed every time he opened his mouth
• My alarm clock
• Stupid email forwards with subject lines like "LOL YOU GOTTA READ THIS"
• And everything on the list above, after I'd finished weeping, except Supernatural, my father, the funny show, and the text message 

Also, I can not sleep. This isn't completely out of the ordinary - I've had insomnia since I was in my early teens - but I mean, now, to the point of laying there thinking about all kinds of stuff and jerking myself awake because I think I'm falling and waking up an hour later because I had a sad dream and being very upset AND THEN FURIOUS.

So, the logical conclusion after two nights of this, of course, was that I was losing my mind.

I was kind of distressed about this. I mean, I like my mind! It's a good mind! It does a lot of things well! I mean, sure, it gets weird about some things, and hung up unneccessarily on things that aren't all that important? But overall, I was a total winner in the mind lottery. And now I was losing it! Well, that's a fine how-do-you-do! Was I going to have to go to the mental institution? Because I didn't think I would be able to handle that. I mean, I saw Girl, Interrupted. That place was annoying. I mean, there was that one girl with ROAST CHICKEN under her BED. That is UNSANITARY. And then Angelina Jolie with her charismatic insanity - well, you know I'd probably end up being one of her followers, what with my mind being all softened and all, and that wouldn't end well. I'm pretty sure the chicken-under-the-bed-lady ended up committing suicide. (And wait, the actress died in real life, too, right? OH, NO, I CAN'T GO TO THE MENTAL INSTITUTION IT IS A KILLER PLACE.) 

And what would I do there? I mean, what do people DO in the insane asylum? Are you medicated all the time so you're drooling? Do you have to see a therapist? Because I hate therapy, I always do it wrong and end up rambling and the therapist gets VERY FRUSTRATED. Are there puzzles? I would get bored of all puzzles, all the time. I mean, there's only so many puzzles a person can do. I mean, side piece side piece side piece I AM SO BORED. Is there an actual padded room? I feel like I'd end up there a lot. I don't think I would behave. Wouldn't a padded room be totally restful? And also safe for someone as clumsy as myself. You'd have to hang out with crazies and you wouldn't be able to get away from them, wouldn't you? It would be like a long bus ride with NO STOPS. This is a VERY BAD IDEA.

There were also the crazy dreams, so maybe it wasn't as much insanity as the gift of prophecy? Although you know if I got that I'd end up Cassandra and no one would believe me. I mean, last night, I had a dream that I went out with this guy I kind of dig (which is how I knew, even when I was in it, it wasn't real - I even said in the dream, "How is this happening? You'd never go out with me, I'm too weird for you" to him) and apparently he was super-sensitive? I don't know. He held up a CD and it was all the poetry I'd ever written and said "I've memorized this" and I was charmed by that. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN. Because let me tell you, if that shit happened in real life, I'd have a few questions. Like, how did you get all of that, stalker? And, who's reading it on the CD, because I've never spoken most of that aloud anywhere but the privacy of my own home, so are you bugging my home? And you memorized it? Really? You seem to have a lot of free time. Do you have a job? Because the real-life you totally does. THIS SEEMS SUSPECT. So, as you can see, even though dream-me was all "oh, guy who seems kind of adorable in the abstract, you're the sweetest, you like my poetry? We are soulmates" real-life me would not take this well. Therefore, my totally awesome potentially prophetic dreams better not be, because if this actually happens I'm going to mace someone. (Fine, Mr. or Mrs. Literal-and-Afraid-of-the-Idea-of-Me-With-a-Weapon, I don't actually have mace. I have breath spray, though, and I think it would totally hurt if you sprayed it in someone's eyes.)

This morning, as I was doing the COPY JOB FROM HELL and the copier was not cooperating so I punched it a couple of times (this is not encouraged behavior but the copier DESERVED it wait I'm sorry baby I didn't mean it please don't leave me) it crossed my mind that WAIT! These odd things that are happening to me? Coincided with the timing of the first new pill. And a lot of odd new things happening that happen once you take a new medication? They even have a NAME for that. SIDE EFFECTS. I work at a damn answering service. WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THIS SOONER.

So, as you do, I Wikipedia'd it. What, you'd call your doctor? You'd be on hold for freakin'-EVER if you did that. Wikipedia loads in like SECONDS. I mean, who has the time when you might be losing your mind and/or becoming prophetic?

Partial list of side effects from the medication I'm on: depression, mood swings, emotional instability, aggression, abnormal crying, insomnia, forgetfulness, sleep disorders, and back pain. (I left off the icky and weird ones because *knock on wood* I'm not experiencing those. "Rhinitis?" THAT SOUNDS HORRIFYING. Oh, wait, it's a stuffy nose. Aw! Rhinitis! Now it sounds adorable, like a baby rhino disease. YES, I know rhino- is a Greek prefix for nose. Shut up, person who always knows all the stuff and assumes no one else does.)

WHAT.
THE.
HELL.

OK, this is like the scariest, most distressing list of side effects ever. Per one of my Twitter friends: "Wow, PMS in pill form? That's delightful!" It is. IT IS TOTALLY PMS IN PILL FORM. Only x100. Like, with PMS, I'm a little crotchety, but it's something I can deal with. I mean, I would probably be very annoyed by someone acting like a total tool, but I wouldn't cut a bitch for laughing too loud. I WANT TO CUT A BITCH FOR LAUGHING TOO LOUD RIGHT NOW.

Aggression? Really? A pill can induce aggression? Listen, I'm already totally aggressive. I don't think this pill needs to encourage my natural propensity toward that. That could be disastrous. I can see myself just throwing myself out of the car window onto the roof of the car next to me and clinging there like a furious monkey baby for pulling out in front of me and then slowing down.

And then we have "abnormal crying." I don't..."abnormal"? Really? So I assume you mean the crying you'd do when being, say, bashed on your toe with a hammer is normal crying, but the crying I've been doing over, oh, I don't know, NOT HAVING ANY SHREDDED CHEESE IN THE HOUSE THIS IS THE WORST NIGHT OF MY LIFEEEEEEE is abnormal?

Mood swings. Why don't you just shut your goddamn mouth, list of side effects. If I needed your input I'd ask for it. Aw! List of side effects! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH IT'S LIKE PHYSICAL PAIN.

I'm really hoping that "sleep disorders" means "totally vivid and maybe prophetic dreams." It does, right? It's my list and I've decided so. I'm thinking you probably aren't going to want to cross me today?

I'm not going crazy, I'm just taking a medication that makes me feel like I am. Well! That's reassuring!

Listen, this is totally awesome. No, seriously. I can't think of anything more awesome. So I'm going to go cry about it? Probably for the next 45 minutes or so? Keep an eye on things around here for me. I think I'll be back to normal in approximately two weeks. Better living through pharmaceuticals, ladies and gentleman, it's a wonderful world we live in!

(Title's from Shakespeare, King Richard III. Thanks, Will! Love you to pieces and NOW I'M CRYING AGAIN DAMMIT.)