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"I Played Dumb, Which Was Easy, Seeing As How I Don't Know Anything."*
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Last summer I got a letter from . . . some medical people asking if I wanted to participate in some kind of medical consultation thingy. (Please excuse all the technical jargon, but I can't tell the story without it.) It was something about managing my medical care.
Since I had the pacemaker put in last February, I met my out-of-pocket very early, putting me in golden time for most of the year. So I figured what the hell and I agreed. I thought this would be a good opportunity to talk to my doctor about klonopin, which he's been very difficult about prescribing. (I understand his point; long-term use of it can certainly be a problem. But he seems to have missed the part in doctor school where you don't keep threatening to cut off your patient's anti-anxiety medication, since that tends to make the patient even more anxious.)
But that didn't happen because my doctor wasn't there. This had nothing to do with my doctor. Instead I saw a psychologist, a social worker, and . . . a caseworker? Maybe? I don't know. It's been over six months. We talked about various stuff. It was a not unpleasant experience, but I don't know what the point was. (I sound really good when I talk to strangers.)
I saw one of them again in November. (I have no idea which one.) Again we talked. Again I don't know what the point was. (She was really lovely. I had a serious anxiety attack on my way to the appointment and I was very late, but she was very nice about it.) On the way out, I used the restroom where the automatic sink couldn't see me. That wouldn't have been a problem except the automatic soap dispenser had seen me and I really wanted to get the soap off my hands. I ended up wiping it off with a paper towel (the automatic paper towel dispenser also saw me).
I got a call the other day from possibly the same woman wanting to set up another appointment, which I agreed to. I was supposed to see her today. But it was a nice, warmish rainy day and I had things to do. And I still don't know what the point of all this is, and besides, it's a new year and I have no idea how much this costs. So I called and cancelled. Fortunately, I got voicemail and didn't have to talk to an actual person.
I feel like I should ask somebody about this, but I'm not entirely sure who or what to ask. Maybe when she calls again I just won't answer the phone. My life is already needlessly complicated.
*Commander Russell Taylor
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Last summer I got a letter from . . . some medical people asking if I wanted to participate in some kind of medical consultation thingy. (Please excuse all the technical jargon, but I can't tell the story without it.) It was something about managing my medical care.
Since I had the pacemaker put in last February, I met my out-of-pocket very early, putting me in golden time for most of the year. So I figured what the hell and I agreed. I thought this would be a good opportunity to talk to my doctor about klonopin, which he's been very difficult about prescribing. (I understand his point; long-term use of it can certainly be a problem. But he seems to have missed the part in doctor school where you don't keep threatening to cut off your patient's anti-anxiety medication, since that tends to make the patient even more anxious.)
But that didn't happen because my doctor wasn't there. This had nothing to do with my doctor. Instead I saw a psychologist, a social worker, and . . . a caseworker? Maybe? I don't know. It's been over six months. We talked about various stuff. It was a not unpleasant experience, but I don't know what the point was. (I sound really good when I talk to strangers.)
I saw one of them again in November. (I have no idea which one.) Again we talked. Again I don't know what the point was. (She was really lovely. I had a serious anxiety attack on my way to the appointment and I was very late, but she was very nice about it.) On the way out, I used the restroom where the automatic sink couldn't see me. That wouldn't have been a problem except the automatic soap dispenser had seen me and I really wanted to get the soap off my hands. I ended up wiping it off with a paper towel (the automatic paper towel dispenser also saw me).
I got a call the other day from possibly the same woman wanting to set up another appointment, which I agreed to. I was supposed to see her today. But it was a nice, warmish rainy day and I had things to do. And I still don't know what the point of all this is, and besides, it's a new year and I have no idea how much this costs. So I called and cancelled. Fortunately, I got voicemail and didn't have to talk to an actual person.
I feel like I should ask somebody about this, but I'm not entirely sure who or what to ask. Maybe when she calls again I just won't answer the phone. My life is already needlessly complicated.
*Commander Russell Taylor