In which I tried to off myself in the Walgreen's parking lot

Bad day for Paigey, folks.

I may have mentioned this, I don't know, once or twice, but I am ill. Bad ill. And I am not one to complain, you know.

HELLO? is anyone reading this crap? All I do is complain. Hell, I get paid to complain, which I think is a fine twist of fate for someone like me.

In any event, I am sick. Moving on.

I call the doc this morning when I get up--after going to sleep at 5:30 am, I actually got up before noon, to call the doc. No answer. WTF, I ask you? I am not calling the man's house, but a practice with four docs and at least 6 office people whose job it is to answer the phone. But they do not.

I had to go dr the eyeball of Miss Aries and give morning stuff to the Fatten-up Section of the Farm, so I go to do that and head into town to sign a document at work. From there, I intend to get through to the doc, see him, get more drugs and come home to bed.

That so did not happen. I got to work around 1 pm and promised not to breathe on anyone--just sign here, here and here, and call the doc. For 42 minutes I jack around trying to get these people to answer the phone. I even wondered if my phone's contact numbers have gone wonky and got out the trusty phone book. Still no answer. By this time, I was sweating and my throat hurt so bad that I cried a little when I had to swallow. I wrote some letters, emailed them around, did some odds and ends and kept on calling on the speaker phone.

FINALLY, I got someone to answer the Friggin phone. They are so lucky I am hoarse and only have a few words in me today, or I would have had a come to Jesus with these people. So lucky.
Oh no, there are no appointments--this does not shock me, after all, what makes a sick person think they need with a doc? But his nurse will call me and fix me up.

I wait some more. I drink 6 gallons of water. I sweat some more and try not to breathe on people. Since I did not intend to be at work, I did not have my big project with me, that I had gotten early in the week in the hopes I could stay awake long enough to finish it by the end of the month. Seems funny now, since I may not live that long. It would be dumb to go all the way home though if I was just going to have to turn around and go back to town to pick up drugs.

She calls, and of course, cannot really hear me telling her what is wrong with me---I had a feeling that would happen, but she is in such a rush, I doubt she noticed what I actually said my symptoms were. She told me she would talk to doc, then call in a scrip and call me and say she had done it.

I wait some more. By then it was 2:30. Not so bad, but sumbitch---she never called back. I ended up sitting at work until 5 pm. Which is a half day of work for someone who probably should not be around other people, and probably was stinking from sweating so much.

I gave up and went to Walgreens assuming she had called it in, but had forgotten to call me and tell me that. I drive there. I see the end of the rainbow thinking I might feel better soon. Or maybe I was hallucinating, who knows.

I should have known better. No prescription has been called in. We had this conversation around 4:58. They check all the voicemails, none about me. They screw around about 10 minutes, then call the doctor's office, only to be shocked that they were closed after 5 pm. Oy.

I loaded up on $100 of sore throat and cold stuff, and headed home. In the parking lot, I ran into Meagan and bitched until I lost my voice again--it was very quiet bitching. I was cruising down Broadway when my phone rang--and I knew by the number that it was the damn doctor's office. Oh NOW she calls me.

She says she just called it in--at 5:30. Thanks, I say, I have been there an hour waiting on it. She said I should have waited for her call. I say --wheeze, really-that I assumed it would be there by 5, since surely she would not leave me hanging over nite and they close at 5. Oh no they don't close at 5, and she laughs at me.

This was starting to piss me off. I turned around and went BACK to the freaking Walgreens. And got in the drive thru line, as I was afraid I would pass out if I went back inside. It was not a good sign that I was in line behind Meagan who had not moved very far since I left.

I got up to the window and they ask my name. I tell them. No less than 6 times. They cannot hear me. Imagine that. I had to write my name down on a scrap of paper from the car and hold it up to their window or I would still be sitting there. Then they ask me to tell them my birthday. We go through all the same things. I wait some more. Then what is my address? Hell if they were going to deliver, they should have said so an hour ago. But no, they were just torturing me.

FINALLY, I get my little bag of pills--7 pills, for $24. I like to see the real cost-- or what they claim it is, if you did not have insurance--and that was $125. For 7 pills. Jesus Mary and Joseph, is this country screwed up or what?

I come home, try not to pass out on the way or God forbid have to talk to anyone, and take my pill. Then I looked it up on the internet to see what could be so good that I only need 7 pills, and guess what I find? That one side effect is a sore throat and the other is earaches (that and ruptured tendons, and muscle pain, but whatever).

What the hell did these people think I was calling them for, if not sore throat and earache, in addition to all this other crap?

So if you never see me again, I am probably stuck in this chair unable to get out of it due to ruptured tendons, and muscle pain to severe to drag myself around without them. And I will also have a fork stuck in my ear or throat to stop the pain.

This is really pissing me off

And it may be because I am so sick, I cannot do any thing but sleep and watch TV, but I have had it with this.

This Chris Brown and Rihanna thing is getting on my nerves. Right now, there is a show on MTV dedicated to the whole issue.

The host made a comment that we might forgive Chris Brown for beating up some random chic, but not Rihanna.

WTF? It is the same ridiculous bullshit no matter who he beat up on. Comments like that suggest that there are some women who deserve better treatment than others, or should be more protected from bad behavior than others. Is this really the message that we should be putting forth on this topic? Not at my house, it ain't.

That really pisses me off. No woman deserves to be beat on, even if she is a homeless prostitute, instead of a superstar like Rihanna. None of them.

When is someone going to call these people in the public eye (commentators, hosts, magazines, etc) on this crap? They are perpetuating a very dangerous way of thinking with this position.

One of the first things I thought when this story broke, was what an example Rihanna could be to other women--she could show that it can happen to anyone, it is not a matter of shame, and that NO one deserves it. Maybe this story could give some girl the nerve to admit it is happening to her, and put a stop to it. Instead of working from that angle, the media is turning it around to squash women, instead of empowering them.