Lee,

Yeah-talk about getting taken!!! And really, so many red flags, I shoulda seen it.

Saw the PCP, and right off, it's "Well, I'm not giving you _____" Fill in the blanks. The ortho nurse had said she was going to call him, and ask them to do it. Oh, no such luck--he ***umed I wanted an increase overall-not smart before surgery: makes pain management afterwards too hard. But being able to get through the day so I can eat.

Well, I was in the elevator going back downstairs, and some doctor got in on the second floor, while I was commenting to him that "Of course nothing happened-the doctors have their heads too far up the a**es of the DEA-and each other. Because of a few idiots who OD and abuse the system-if they have doubts, then UA me, x-ray the hip, but at least give me the dignity of finding out why it hurts so bad. Just because you have chronic pain doesn't make all your complaints of pain related to your chronic pain." I want to print that last sentence on a freaking t-shirt and wear it to every doctor's appointment from this point on. Matching baseball cap that says: "Not all CP people are looking for drugs." Idk if it'd fit, but I'd sure like to find out.

But my mood is not on the list of options: mad as h***!!! Not because they didn't do a single thing, but they didn't even do an x-ray of my stupid hip to see if it has collapsed!!! Hey, I even asked him to!!! He said, "Oh, I'll let the ortho people worry about it." But he had them monkey around and do a bunch of lung function tests and a chest x-ray!!! You can't throw a plate under my hip and take a stupid picture you idiot??? Yeah, I could change PCP's (again), but what is the point? They're all the same, or so it seems to be these days. Unless you have a cold, a runny nose, or a bladder infection.

Uuuuggggghhhh. Then, the PMR nurse called while I was waiting for my x-ray. I was trying to talk to her, and the x-ray tech starts the procedure-and is wheeling me into the room...I was about to tell the nurse we'd have to wrap it up, because they were going to do my chest x-ray, and the tech rams my leg into the wall, and yup-I jumped about five feet and started crying. The PMR nurse goes, "Ms. C, it is inappropriate for you to talk to me while you're having a procedure. I will call you later." Boom, the b**** hangs up on me. Now, I may talk a lot about being angry, rant, and sound ticked off: but that's my coping; as is my extremely sarcastic humor: the snide doctor comments, etc. The evil pictures that show up on my cell phone when the doctor's office calls-they all remind me not to take it too seriously. And it's humor from my medical days as an RN myself. But, I do not get angry and throw things. But that time, I was so hacked, I threw my phone at the wall. Fortunately, the plastic case was the only thing that shattered (one reason I buy them: the $10 I spent on it just saved me from $200 on a new phone! Lol, but it's true; but my problem typically is droppint them-I don't throw phones-ever), the back popped off, and battery flew out...and I burst into tears. The poor x-ray girl, who was a really big sweetheart, goes, "Who was that???" I told her it was the PMR nurse. She asked if it was VM (same set of doctors as them: VM is one of the hospital systems in the area), and I said yes. She advised me to complain, because even she could hear the PMR nurse yelling at me. I am also going to file a complaint to the board of nursing for unprofessional conduct, and also with the hospital as well. I am sick of that clinic treating me like a doormat.

Oh, if my therapist weren't calling this afternoon, I'd turn my freaking phone off now!!!

Oh, and my former idiot friend's dad just called (again), and as the cop advised last night (they called four times) when I called because her parents' had called four times in an hour. They said to politely tell them that I was not friends, that their daughter has some serious problems (both of them), and that just because they owe Comcast over $500, it does not make me a messenger service, the mistaken interpretation that both their children seem to have-which is no longer the case.

And some jerk took the Do Not Disturb sign off my door. No problem: I made copies; about 25, I think. They'll get the picture. I think actually it was probably "Sally" coming up to use the phone. Or her half drunk (only half-drunk, it's only 2pm right now) sister...but totally drunk in 1-2 hours.

So, replace the sign, take my meds, what the heck else is there? But I called the clinic manager on the way home, and had that "deadly calm" tone of voice where you're super polite, and left an equally sugary message (not not sarcastic); but the driver goes, "Whoa, you're mad...I won't even ask." I was like, "Oh, you don't want to know." His response was that he jokingly (he's a nice guy-I ride a lot with him, and we kind of joke back and forth) said, "Remind me not to get in your way when you get that "deadly calm" voice. When women talk like that, you best get out of the way."

Now, why can't a doctor be that smart? Or any man for that mantter...lol-present company excluded...venting/ranting...just mad...and hurting a lot. Now, it's just a sharp, stabbing, shooting pain, but equally nauseating and unrelenting. And April 15 is my surgery date. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Two weeks doesn't sound so bad, as my therapist put it, except when you stop and realize you wish the clock had started ticking two weeks ago!!! Stick. I'm gonna go cuddle with the kitties...

Hugs!