Standing on the rock in Normal entries

Memory sucks. Mine. Yours might too, how would I know? A case might be made that memory as a concept can often be negative. My lead in had to do with paws and head and where I put them. Heh, on line.

I actually did something about the paw, to make a plotless and tedious story short, I’ve kind of got my own rheumatologist. Whereas she’s not on speed dial, I haven’t tossed her number. I was expecting an appointment three months out. When I called they said ‘How about today?’ I had a lot of reasons why today sucked (today being Monday earlier in the week) so I asked when the next appointment would be, so, if I needed to, I could unsuck Monday. It was just a week away.

She’s a good diagnostician. My primary is not. At least the new guy. Both intern and attending and me were not planning on meeting one another and it was more like an awkward get together than a doctor’s appointment. I do have a contract with their office though; a narcotics contract with strict boundaries. So, I emailed the new attending (because the intern is still too wet to have a name on the portal) sort of politely asking permission to see rheumatologist, sort of telling him and strongly implying that though they might know an elbow from an asshole they didn’t know my elbow or asshole. Strongly implied. It took two hours to get a return message, which is faster by weeks than I had expected, but, I have a feeling one and a half of those hours were looking up who the hell I was.

I have an appointment in June with neuro opth doc. I don’t expect much, her go to last time was tests to rule shit out, pushing mostly for an MRI. I said no. I might not this time. Not sure why. The MRI will check to see if it’s like a brain tumor which would suck and seems a bit dramatic, but mostly, if it were a brain tumor I don’t want those idiots working on it. Hmmm, I’ll rephrase that; I don’t trust their ability. I don’t in general. I don’t think the rheumatologist does head stuff; I trust her ability.

Shit. Whining is not how I wanted to come across. I would like to think straight (well, straighter) and use my left paw for more than a place holder, and I think it’s damn optimistic of me to think that could happen if I catch the right doc at the right time. I genuinely hate hospitals, I only mildly dislike most doctor’s offices. In this town there are two offices I kind of like. My rheumatologists and, um, a friends gyno. Both are damn comfy; over stuffed soft leather chairs and loveseats, actual art on the wall, the gyno has a fireplace. Hospitals could be outfitted like that and I’d still hate them. Too many associations, not for me as a patient, I’ve only been admitted twice in my life and once was at age three. Professionally I’ve spent way too many stressful hours in hospitals.

Fuck. I was thinking about something that didn’t have to do with falling apart and now I’ve lost it. Nature abhors a vacuum so it stays the hell out of my head. I’m going to wrap this nonsense up and see if I can play a flute; that was my acid test a few weeks after the surgery on my left arm. The open holed one might be impossible, but I want to see range of motion not delicacy of touch. If you don’t know the difference between the two … I wouldn’t sweat it much. Nothing but a chicken wing, don’t make a dimes worth of difference, gray eyes are glass.

If y’all don’t hear from me for a while it means I’m dead or, you know, something else. If I’m dead you could go to your local music store and ask to see an open holed flute and a regular one. Ask them to see a bass flute too, those are so fucking cool.