Well, was found "guilty" and I don't even know how because out of fear of everything going bad and not wanting to pants on to throw things out in the middle of the night, I ate every thing I have that could go bad if I was gone two weeks and it wouldn't be ok in the freezer (and didn't purge).

The nurse said I can call my PCP and set up an appointment, but I've literally never set up one myself it's always been like I show up to therapy and she doesn't want to deal with me and gets me in to get checked for scabies or my pdoc notices my pinky looks dislocated and she sets it up, and then I get calls for physicals and follow-ups. I honestly feel so fking dumb because I cannot navigate that fking maze of numbers in three languages and I think I called four different numbers not knowing which to call and there's still one more that I might have to call instead of the four I did and I don't know.

I don't fking know what the robots want. I can't understand anything half the time anyway so why bother anymore.