Raawwwrrr!!! *dinosaur stomp*

That's how I feel. My anger/annoyance/aggravation conjures images of a hulking Jurassic giant stomping around and shaking the ground.

I'm really really #$%*@ sick of medicine. People /in/ medicine, to be exact. The health field. Whatever you want to call it.

I had several appointments yesterday.

Radiation was @ 3:45 and I had a port flush @ 4 pm. I get to radiation and they tell me I have to see the doctor after my radiation. "NO" I say, I can't. I have a 4pm appointment. They inform me I have to see the doctor once a week (for Medicaid reasons). He breezes in, we exchange "hello's" and Medicaid forks over the $$. I get it. However, they cancelled my appointment yesterday (which I knew included the doctor visit) but didn't mention it would be made up on Friday.

Whatever... it has to be done. I despise being late but these things can't be helped. Also, Jill has to be to class by 6 pm (and she drove me to these appointments).

I get called into radiation. This is how the radiation goes;

1. I lay on a flat metal table. I raise my arms over my head and they have a mold for my head/arms so I lay the same way every time. I remove my gown/top and they place a sort of napkin with a hole in the middle on my chest. It's not the most comfortable position and it gives me back problems. Currently I take Flexoril and that helps relax my muscles.

2. The machine extends around me on all sides and it takes 2 x-rays. I think, from those, they make the zapping map. A doctor approves it from his screen (he checks the images from somewhere in the building) and then the table moves remotely into a very precise position.

3. 4 zaps come from 4 different positions. They have to change a sort of filter on the zapper for each position so you hear the little techs running into the room and sliding in the plates.

So anyway, after the x-rays yesterday, I just laid there. I closed my eyes for a while and relaxed a bit because sometimes it takes a few minutes. Then I feel the table move and we're off! BUT NO. Nothing happened for 20 minutes. I waited and waited and started to think "maybe something happened?". My thoughts raced and it was so quiet in there (you're in a room with lead walls, mind you) and I thought of the San Diego black out that just happened and how my friend thought it could be the apocalypse. What if that happened? Everyone was instantly incinerated by a nuclear blast but I was safe inside the lead room. What if they just forgot about me? I might be having a muscle spasm... do I feel funny? My blood feels cold. Or is it hot? I feel I may faint.. good thing I'm laying down. I'll wait 5 more minutes... (I count in my head)... OK, another 5. Finally I say out loud "Hello????". I wait some more and I can't move because they will need to re-adjust me and take another few pics to re-align... and then I pretty much scream "IS ANYONE THERE???". My breathing became a little shallow and I started to sweat. My heart was beating fast and I was just trying to reign in any sort of untoward reaction I may be having...

Then the nurse came in and said they were waiting on the doctor.. (effing doctors). I said I was about ready to freak out and she patted my arm. DON'T PAT ME!!! So condescending. Then a voice came over the intercom "it's a go" so we were off.
The appointment on the day I needed it to go smoothly, was the longest radiation experience I'd ever had.

Then the doctor's visit. They usher you into a room on the same floor. They shut the door and a nutritionist and a nurse visit you before the doctor. They are in and out quickly and would the doctor be as quick? OOOH no. They're always late. LATE LATE LATE.

I imagine my doctor sauntering around the atrium with his hands in his pockets leaning over and smelling the flowers. Lackadaisically meandering around the building.. bending down to rub a spot off his shoe for a while. Smiling at his shoe and then standing upright again. Fiddling in his pockets until he realizes there's a lot of change in there so he removes it and flicks them one-by-one into the fountain from the second floor making wishes about his next trip to Italy and for the quarters he hopes his wife isn't having an affair with her personal trainer. Then he sees the reflection of a clock in the water and thinks "time... time.. I have an appointment!!". Only then does he make his way to my holding cell, takes two steps into my room, asks if I feel "ok" and then we say our goodbyes. Voila!

This pushes my third appointment 45 minutes late. I sent Jill up to that floor earlier to see if it was OK that I was soooo freaking late.

Mind you, I hate being late. It goes against every fiber of my being and I get stressed out when I think I may be late. I, myself, am never late. I only get stressed when Jill is making me late.

Next is my port flush. I have a port nestled in my delicate decolletage. It looks like a wolverine had a bit of a time getting to its prey and gnawed a sloppy hole in my chest. I guess the skin on your upper chest doesn't heal so nicely. Scars easily, I mean. Anyway, they have to flush this port with saline so that it doesn't get clogged with your blood. -_-

The nurse was filling in for my favorite and most beloved Nurse Amy. She had moth ball breath, for one. Secondly, with the first poke she missed my port. These pokes are unlike any others that I've been given. It's particularly sensitive there... so she has to poke again with a longer needle. UGHHHH. She was very apologetic about it, though.

So, when I got home, I was a bit of a bear.

My mood has been sour for the past few days. I get up and then really get irritated for no reason. I do need a good cry. Hmmm... or maybe I can pinch a baby when it's mother isn't looking. Now that would make me feel good.

This morning I was supposed to babysit early... like 7:45 am. I got up and got ready and they were a no-show. No one's fault, I didn't get the text, etc. but y'know...

So that's my bitchfest for the day. I do feel a bit better. :D