[spacemonkey36]

Hello folks!

I'm fairly new, and not 100% sure how this works, and mainly I need to vent a bit.

I could kick myself in the head for not seeing the red flags: and not like there weren't plenty of them in this so called "friendship." We'll call this person "Sally." I don't know any Sally's, no offense to those of you with this name: I pulled it out of my exhausted brain-so sorry. But, and this isn't easy for me, I actually DO have ADHD: combined type, so my inattentiveness and my hyperactivity wreak havoc in my life. Which frequently makes me cranky (duh), and difficult to stay on track and get to the point-and frustrates a lot of people in conversation: just a warning...

Well, I had a friendship--or as said, so I thought--that I actually thought was someone I could trust. The signs were promising in the beginning: she seemed to re spect my boundaries-know when I need my solitude, and with bipolar, ADHD, and PTSD (and related to the PTSD, RTS, and God help those who know what that is an abbreviation for-or have personal experience with it). I was raised by a mother with untreated "Borderline Personality Disorder with Narcissistic Traits," as her official diagnosis. Yeah, she quit therapy a few times-once that diagnosis is repeated, she never goes back. Hmmm. But I can't say my experience with her didn't teach me a few things since she actually was addicted to her pills to the point of stealing mine when I was 14 and had just had knee surgery. And I was honest early on about how I feel about my boundaries.

The things that irritate me the most are people who start calling at 0500, and don't stop (unless I reciprocate because I can't sleep, but often this is why I don't sleep: now my phone gets turned completely off around 7pm and is back on whenever I get around to it after waking up and a cup of coffee) until about 0200--and are generally disrespectful of my "Alone Time." Or if I let my phone go to voicemail, and they leave "What the h---, how come you're not freaking picking up?" and leave 4 or more identical messages, etc. And I used to get it all the time, until the people in my life realized I wasn't calling back the ones who left those messages or called when they were well aware I would most likely be asleep: just because part of the world wakes up at the crack of dawn, doesn't mean the rest of us do, and in fact, due to severe, long-standing insomnia, which pretty much everyone who knows me is aware of, most of the people in my life are aware that often, and due to issues with PTSD, but more and more lately, with pain-related issues, that I do not even get to sleep until even after some of them are getting up and starting their day.

And when I was a kid (figuratively-at least usually), if I picked up the phone to answer or make a call before 10am, during the week and on weekends, and especially the latter, my parents would practically beat me senseless. And I consider certain things rude and disrespectful: this is one. Well, my friend would invite herself up, and often just bang on my door around 0800, maybe less than 2 hours after I would finally get to sleep, and I'd be bleary-eyed, my hair a mess, in my pajamas, having not showered yet (clearly), and barely awake, and she'd chipper say, "Oh, were you sleeping?" Well, yes, until you banged on my door for 10 minutes and refused to go away, I was. What do you want? "Can we have coffee?" Well, might as well-once I wake up, forget going back to sleep. But the coffee would wipe some of the cobwebs out of my brain, and help the feeling I had of my head being filled with wet cement, thanks to yet another off the charts level of pain-and no sleep. Thank you. But I finally told her that "Ya know I think it's rude to even call someone before 10." So she started showing up right at 10. Then came "Can I have some coffee for me and my sister (she shares and apartment with her sister in the building next door-unfortunately all the building keys work for all the buildings). One month, she took about 3/4 of an entire can of coffee, and replaced it with one of those tiny cans-the ones that have maybe half a pound of coffee in them. "Oh, the big ones were like $11.99." What do you think I paid for it, stupid? But, trying to be patient, I let it go.

But the one thing that red-flagged me right away was her use of oxycodone. Straight up, analyzing the deal, she has a major problem. But after what happened last night, well, she may well have gotten herself cut off if the paramedics successfully got her to the hospital. But I will get to that-yes, I promise my exhausted ADD brain will. She started off when I got her, with getting 220 tablets of 5mg oxycodone. But even with this in my opinion, gynormous amount (that's more than I take in one month between both my BTP meds, and my methadone in terms of the sheer amount. The first month we met, the story was her stepdad-who is a worse addict than she is and than her sister is a drunk, had stolen her whole script the day after she got it. She'd had it in her jacket pocket, and had taken off her jacket-well, knowing he's done this before and would steal methadone from a detoxing infant, why did she leave the bottle in her pocket when taking the jacket off...ok, we all screw up, so mentally, that red flag was written off to "we all screw up, and like me, she assumed family, it'd be safe." So the ensuing months, she'd have wised up? Not a chance--according to her story. And now, I believe it to be no more than a story. Well, she was so sick-she was asking for my meds! Not a chance, absolutely not, I told her. It's illegal for one, and if I short myelf, and go to my doctor without so much as a tablet left, they're gonna be suspicious, and why should I pay because your stepdad is a theiving addict? Nope. But she respected that, shockingly. Even when she had ample opportunity to steal them while I was in the hospital-for some reason she didn't. But I think it was to manipulate me, and get into my good graces. She asked me to "pay her" with meds instead of the money I offered her for caring for my beloved kitties, and for keeping an eye on my place, plus straightening up a bit. I gave her a fair some of money, and told her to go buy them somehwhere, and I didn't care what she did with the money, but not to ask me again.

Well, she got through that month...and she's constantly crying "poor" and how broke she is--she and her sis pay the full rent for their apartment (a little over $900, and she claimed she paid half the rent), but I know her sis only makes it as an NAC, which is about $10/hr, or maybe, take-home, about $1400/month, and if her income was the $650 she claimed (disability), then now that I realized this: they wouldn't have qualified for the apartment. The minimum combined income would have to be about $2800/month. Come to find out she makes $990-more than I do...and doing the math, and provided she had actually paid her bills, as she claimed to have-she still should have, at $990, had-and given a food budget, what utilities cost in this area, had about $200 leftover for personal expenses.

Yet, once I got home from the first hospital stay in February, requests started coming in-very subtly and gradually at first, and now thinking back-even when she knew I was strapped for money. I gave her grand total in February, about $70, which I am now embarassed to admit, although about $40 was for taking care of my animals and my place while I was in the hospital--and also yeah, being a bit shocked she hadn't stolen my meds, quite honestly. This led me to trust her. Well, hospital stay number two in February, beginning of March, same thing--only this time, she had, at the mid-month, given her meds to a "friend" (who lives more than 40+ miles south of us--wth was she thinking??? I'd have held onto them-and I get the same stuff, so I'd have no reason to take them) to "hold" while her mom and stepdad came over for supper supposedly so stepdad wouldn't steal them, and supposedly she caught him going through her coat and later on, her bag. Alright, so I believed that one-sucker. Well, this rather mysterious "friend" of course, never showed back up with her meds-oh, what a huge shock-not. I wasn't surprised, even then. She used her hyperactive thyroid to get ativan to help her withdrawals, while constantly begging me for one "dose" of oxycodone. I asked her what a "dose was?" She tells me 20mg-but "I only take them twice a day." Right, like her alcoholic sister has only 2 beers after work, as evidenced by the fact that she's at the store every night, getting a half-rack, but needs to buy another the next night? Yeah, 2 six-packs, maybe. But, she clings to the "I'm sober, I just have bad back pain...I did take "one" extra dose when my back popped picking up my neice." The neice is about 2 and maybe weighs 15 pounds. She was an NAC for 22 years. Another red flag I was totally blind to-stupid, stupid, stupid!!! So, getting through that month, most of which she was "dope sick" for, and since she is pain-contracted, she even asked me (since I am not), to "just get a couple from your dentist-I'll "pay you back.") I said that unless she was paying the $100 for me to go, absolutely not (I have an OK from my PMR doc to fill prescriptions from the dentist-they are small, and brief, and only for when I have a procedure, such as a root canal-plus, both of them have spoken to each other). I knew she wasn't gonna cough up the $100 so it was a non-issue. But I specifically asked her, "Please stop asking me for meds-it makes me uncomfortable: I've got like 4 friends who are sheriff's deputies," and that is true! Plus halfway through a master's degree in criminal justice! If I ever get to finish that, no one in the field is gonna hire someone with a drug-related record, or even a record-thank you! She briefly stopped.

Then came March. New prescription, and this time, she gets the maximum number of narcotic pills allowed by her insurance without a doctor's prior authorization (and with state insurance, you practically gotta have cancer to get it), and even came to me for the $1.10 copay. I said I didn't have it-which I didn't. No. Request denied. Her sister had even started accompanying her up her, showing up once with an open beer in her hand, knowing I am in recovery: I promptly told them both, I don't allow alcohol or even remotely intoxicated people in my house, so don't bloody do it again-that time I was mad-"Sally" knew exactly what my boundary was, and now I was getting mad. And at this point, it was never to see if I was needing help, or to hang out, etc. Can I use the computer? Not now. Do you have extra food? No. Now, I am finally seeing the red flags. Six days after she gets her March prescription--guess what? Yup-it's gone. Now, I am paying attention, and remembering I know how to add and subtract. Ok, I say, you got 250 tablets. What happened? She "owed" some chick 80. Ok, sweetie, but that still leaves you with 170. you went through an average of 34 tablets/day? That is 170mg/day-a lot even for a practiced and severely addicted person (naturally not to inflame, but to pump for info at this point, I said, "well how did you manage that? You are 5'1 and what, about 115 pounds?" She then tells me she loaned 50 to her stepdad, and he's supposed to "pay her back" in a few days. I'm seeing the agenda obviously at this point: she wants me to bail her out, but wouldn't come out and say it. So, I said, well, girl, that still leaves you with 120. If you take the 8 pills a day you claim to, then you should have 80 left. "Well, I had to take an exra dose once" (or five or six times, remembering a "dose" is 4 of the pills, of which her bottle says she can take 8/day, and no more than 2 at a time?). I went, "well, hon, I can't help you-I'm not going to burn my own self because you can't be responsible with your meds. Sorry." She then asks what to do for the dope sickness. I told her to ask her doctor, and now I need a nap, so call me later-and basically, please leave now. She actually took the hint and left-that time.

Then, the next day-Comcast (cable TV/phone) shuts them off because they owe over $500...well, with just cable and phone, sure their first bill would have been $150, which they both admitted-but they've had that phone number since I met her in January--so what, almost 4 months, minimum? And after the first month, it would have been about $100. But oh, no-we've had it for like a month, and we don't owe $500+, they screwed up our bill, and we're not gonna pay that (all the while, she claims she's out of money when she's done "paying bills" yeah, like her drug dealer?). So their phone and cable gets turned off. But magically, they still have basic (not much longer, I garauntee you that--I just turned them in for that--besides, Comcast will figure it out sooner or later...so I can easily play stupid...)??? Strange, they said, "Oh, some basic comes with the apartment..." Not according to my apartment manager. And unfortunately, this is the very kind of thing that is the PERFECT example of the few ruining it for the many. People like them drive up prices for the rest of us, plus the drugs she's buying, stealing, and even begging off her own mother. It makes me ill.

But when they got shut off-all of a sudden, I am a public phone, public computer, food bank, etc. Well, I shut that down, and quick. There's a sign on my door that I don't answer unless you have called first. And I don't. I also went onling to ATT, subscribed to the call blocking, and blocked her old number (on the off chance she pays the bill, however slim that is), her cell (yes, ATT can do this with the Smart Controls for $4.99/month), her parents' number, and her stupid doctor, who she gave my number to as a contact number, who called twice yesterday-not ok. Emergency contact, fine-ask first is preferable, but sometimes names can be hard to come up with.

So this is what brought it to a head: was the last straw with assuming I am her messenger for her doctor's office, and a go-between, after all this BS. uh, huh!!! Not a chance. I messaged her (she used up all her minutes...only can get the free cell from the government which is 250 minutes/month) to come up, and bring BOTH dishes she'd borrowed (she did, but if she washed them, I sure can't tell). I sat her down, and was about to ream her a new orifice, but realized she looked like he**. I asked her if she was okay (three hours before she looked 100% normal, energetic, happy, and otherwise fine, but this change was very dramatic). She was slurring her speech, couldn't string two words together, claimed she'd had such a bad migraine for two days that she'd been vomiting and lost 8 pounds (not in 2 days, but with a steady 3 month straight diet of pills and God knows what else, and given she's also diabetic), her sugar was probably high because she ate a brownie??? Nothing made sense. I don't have a BP cuff-so I checked her heart rate...her pressure was really low (at most, it was 80, because if the neck is only place you can find it--it's 80 or lower), and her rate was fast and irregular. I told her I was going to call and have someone come look at her. She ambles out the door, mumbling she's going to go get her lab papers and show them to me (? yeah, her thyroid is over active, but she should have been anxious and bouncing off the walls, not slurring her speech and unable to find her way out of a paper sack with two hands and a flashlight), and never came back-so 20 minutes later, finally realizing it was likely that she'd taken her combination of morphine, which she wrangled out of the doctor-but was unable to fill, and has been paying for the individual tablets b/c of reaching the limit-the 15mg oxycodone she wrangled out of her mother, and the stupid morphine.

People like this are a waste of space, and I am sick and tired of it. She's full of it, and like any addict, she's trying to get anything and everything for nothing. For Pete's sake, did she not think that eventually I'd figure it out? Had she not been so highly manipulative, I'd have done so much sooner. She wasn't slurring her words because she was dehyrated, low blood sugar, or sick in any other way than mentally, spiritually, and physically because she was freaking intoxicated. I came down, let the medics into the building, and gave the Captain the complete history that she was not telling his crew, about the drugs, and so forth-but the medical stuff she was leaving out. Ohhh, he was mad as h***, and so was I!!! I stuck my head in the door, and was gonna tell her not to come back or call again, and I was through with her and her addictions, and her drunk of a sister, and the sister looks at me like I am scum on her foot, and (drunk) says, "Jenn, just get the F*** out of here." Ok, at that point, I lost my temper with the two of them. I said, quote, "Then keep both of your sorry addicted a**es out of my life, and you stupid b****, don't ever bring your sorry, drunken *** up to my apartment again, and if either of you so much as knock, I am calling the cops!" The aid crew all know me--I broke my leg two years ago at 4am, and when I fell back in February, prompting my hospital stay (the 1st one), and they all transported me both times-and looked absolutely stunned to see me that mad, and to talk that way.

I stormed out of the building, slamming the door--hard. I came up the stairs, and my friend Rob, God bless him, who really is sober-he's got about a year in the program, and a close friend of mine sponsors him-says he works it hard-was standing at the top of the stairs, and saw me come (as much as I am able) flying up the stairs, so angry, I was literally shaking, he's like, "Whoa, what is going on, Jenna?" I was about to just fall over at that point, so he came in, and was extremely helpful-we talked for some time, and he just listened. Exactly what I needed. I offered him something to eat, to drink, water, etc-I try to be a good hostess-particularly in a deal like that. But he really pulled my butt out of the fire on that one. I called my sponsor first, and she went right to VM. Unusual, but Murphy's Law.

I had the sign on my door approved by management. It reads: "PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB. (or remove this sign: I have copies, and another will be put in this one's place). Then, "I am not feeling well. I am also not a public phone/computer/food bank. Please do not knock without prior arrangement. If I do not respond to texts/phone calls right away, you may leave a note (no, I didn't provide paper), but please-don't knock. But please have patience-I will respond when able. Your COOPERATION is anticipated."

I am no longer associating (other than with Rob) with anyone in this dump. I am moving out August 31 when my lease is up. I am sick of the management, and yes-I turned them in on the cable thing. And yeah, I know her doctor's name. But if I turn her in, she'll call my doc, without a doubt, and make up some story about how I did loan her meds, or I sold them or whatever. It's BS, my counts are always right on, and I've never flunked a UA. But when "associations" whether just troublemakers or not, disgruntled individuals, start calling your docs, you guys know what happens. But I cannot tell you how wonderful it would feel to see the wench get cut off!!!

Am I out of place to be this angry? I know I need to let it go, but I gotta process it to-so I don't make this stupid mistake again. I asked Rob if he took meds: he's only on Seroquel for bipolar. I told him he could stay, and we both laughed.

But jeez, no wonder-I called my ortho office this morning because I fell last night when I got out of bed (no, hadn't taken meds yet--was trying to just rest and calm down), and my bad hip caused me to fall. Of course, the first words out of the nurse's mouth were, "Well, the PMR clinic is managing your pain medication." I got pissed, and may not have been 100% nice about it, but I bluntly told her not to assume that because I am calling about a fall, that it means I want drugs. I told her, "In fact, I do not want my meds increased before surgery because it's then way too hard to manage pain after surgery. I was an ortho nurse myself for four years. I do know a few things about this. I was calling because this condition has caused a 2nd significant fall in less than 2 1/2 months. I have no option to seek after hours care, because I did-and just for an x-ray, which I never even got--to make sure the joint wasn't collapsed. The doctor walked in, glanced at my hip, and handed a piece of paper to me he'd come in with-before even talking to me, and finding out why I was there and assessing me in any way, that was their policy on narcotics. I flat out told him I didn't want any." Well, he never examined me at all-laid even a finger on me-didnt palpate the joint, check range of motion or anything else. So, no, I am more concerned with the difficulty in the activities of daily living, and that it's getting really hard even for that." She did apologize extensively. I was cool with it but just said, "Look, I have personal experience with the kinds of people that caused this to be that way-just last night. And it's frustrating for everyone involved, I get that. But just because I call doesn't mean I am one of them, or that I am looking for drugs-and I already know PMR manages my meds right now." Unspoken: believe me, I am working on changing that because the simple fact the doctor is a total jerk-not because of his prescribing habits: he's an idiot-and so was I for buying into "Sally's" BS.

Ok, thanks to all the "listening pairs of eyes." I do feel better. Somehow it helps, when you know someone's going to read it, listen, and best yet, perhaps understand. Thanks--and sorry it was so long!!!! No, not obsessed with her-I'm highly detail-oriented, and my doc has me not taking the ADD meds on weekends, and it takes me a few days to regain my brain, and manage to accomplish anything--and to learn to not be so winded, not to repeat myself, state the obvious, and learn how to shut up...so, my apologies on the length... Uuuuggggghhhhh!!!!!!!

[Can't Stop Crying]

I'm glad you could get all that out..sounds like you are going through a lot right now, but you did the right thing with the "friends". Good Luck on your upcoming surgery and I hope people respect the sign on your door.

[spacemonkey36]

So far they have; helps to have my apartment manager's signature on it. She rolled her eyes-but I told her what happened; and yeah, also reported their cable theft to Comcast.

I am about to (crutch it) head out the door to see my PCP. I woke up at exactly 07:55 this morning. How do I know? Because my hip is literally exploding in a horrible, nauseating pain (I swallow vomit-gross, I know-about every 10-15 minutes. My PCP will at least be giving me a Demerol shot for pain, and yes-I do have a driver. The orthopedist is going to talk to him/me, and we're going to discuss that I may need a hip replacement instead of the core decompression procedure that they have planned for the 15th, and this means a blood transfusion; problem is although my blood type isn't terribly uncommon (about 6% of the population, so it's not like I am AB negative), but I have weird markers: they'll either be giving me 2 units (the max one donor can give) of my dad's blood--but given who and what he is, that would be if they can get him to come down and donate--or the universal donor blood, O-negative, because hip replacements are bloody, and usually they have to give 3-4 units of blood. Sucks, but at 07:55 this morning, I was instantly wide awake, because my hip suddenly exploded (only way to describe how it felt) in a severe, nauseating, and burning pain...I mean, when you actually either throw up (my prob is if I don't swallow, once I start, I don't stop), or have to swallow, and are crying and thinking about 911. But given the manner in which the ER treated me, I quickly remembered that and decided to page my doc instead. His office was open at 0800, and they had the nurse on the line in about 3 minutes-guess I sounded pretty bad. And since coffee is the first thing i normally reach for, not methadone, diazepam, and oxycodone; and chase them all together--and still absolutely no relief, which is highly unusual, I called the PCP, gave them the head's up, and everyone's agreed that we need to assess for a hip replacement today: not the core decompression that is scheduled. Sh**. And I may be admitted to the hospital.

I don't have a laptop-might be able to talk my mom into loaning me hers-or dad his; but no garauntees. I don't know if I can access or post on this site; but I'll try. If not, my email is spacemonkey2011@yahoo.com. I can get email from my cell, as well as IM's. My IM handle is on Yahoo, and it's the same: spacemonkey2011, if anyone drops me a line. I doubt they'll admit me today, but if I don't post again today with an update, it's probably cuz they did. And yes, I have my chargers in my bag, my Kindle, spare underwear, and a clean pair of pajama bottoms, Just in case. A small bottle of REAL shampoo and conditioner, a brush (real one), hair ties, and real soap. Just a few basics: I hate the crap at the hospital: and days like today-anything can happen: from a mere shot of Demerol and an x-ray (which is the for sure), to being stuck in the hospital for pain control and the surgery. I don't know what's gonna happen. We'll have to see. But I really gotta get going: my ride will be here shortly, and it's gonna take a few minutes to get down the stairs.

Pray.....I actually am hoping they just replace the dang thing and get it over with. But at least, wish me luck!!! So, I shall try to post, but no garauntees: not a "smart phone," so anyhow-hope ya all have a most excellent day!

God Bless.

[Leed]

Bless your heart ~ you're not the only person who's gotten "taken" by one of these addicts. I too got scammed by some "poor down-on-her luck alcoholic. She'd been beaten up something terrible by her boyfriend ~ she looked just AWFUL. So a bunch of us alcoholics in recovery gathered up her stuff, and took her to MY house so she could stay there til she found somewhere else to live. Oh brother. Things were going fine - until I got a phone call at work one night from the FIRE DEPT. that my house was on fire!!! I rushed home, and found that it was just smoke damage -- she had fallen into a drunken stupor while she had cookies in the oven - of course they burned - and smoke was billowing out of the house!! The detector notified the cops that the house was burning. Good grief. Since both of us were in AA -- i reamed her a good one, and put her stuff outside the next day. She was GONE in a couple of hours. Her son was in that house too -- she could have KILLED that little boy.

So see? We all get taken sometime or another. NEVER AGAIN!! Thank goodness we learn from it, right? Hugs, Lee

[spacemonkey36]

Originally Posted by Leed

Bless your heart ~ you're not the only person who's gotten "taken" by one of these addicts. I too got scammed by some "poor down-on-her luck alcoholic. She'd been beaten up something terrible by her boyfriend ~ she looked just AWFUL. So a bunch of us alcoholics in recovery gathered up her stuff, and took her to MY house so she could stay there til she found somewhere else to live. Oh brother. Things were going fine - until I got a phone call at work one night from the FIRE DEPT. that my house was on fire!!! I rushed home, and found that it was just smoke damage -- she had fallen into a drunken stupor while she had cookies in the oven - of course they burned - and smoke was billowing out of the house!! The detector notified the cops that the house was burning. Good grief. Since both of us were in AA -- i reamed her a good one, and put her stuff outside the next day. She was GONE in a couple of hours. Her son was in that house too -- she could have KILLED that little boy.

So see? We all get taken sometime or another. NEVER AGAIN!! Thank goodness we learn from it, right? Hugs, Lee

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!