It's a Leonard Kind of Day

I have one goal tonight; to work on my novel. I want to write this blog and move on to my stories. This is pending upon the idea that my mom stops talking to me while I'm in the middle of typing so then I can't concentrate. She wonders why I'm up so late writing my novel. I can't think when she's awake. This is beyond the point.

The only thing I can think about right now is my toilet seat. Odd, I know. It is one of those really soft ones, but it now has a tear on it in a very bad place and I think it's time, after ten years, to get a new one. Old toilet seat, you will be missed. This is further proof I need a life.

I am hooked on Twitter. I didn't know if I would actually use it, but I have a lot of random moments where it's a lot of sit around and wait. In those times I find myself hopping on the internet via my Sidekick and updating my status. This is working out really well as I document just about everything in my Twitter, making it easy for me to tell my stories on here at the end of the night. Twitter has become like my little footnotes of reminders for the stories I really want to tell.

One random thing I was thinking about today was the time when Becky 1 and I went with a group of friends to see The Uninvited. Everyone was screaming at the parts where the dead people appeared, while I sat there and ate my Kit-Kat nonchalantly. It takes a lot to scare me, and I do mean a lot. Famous last words.

My neighbors are twats. I am reminded of this as they were being loud outside, as usual. They are your general group of trouble makers in a really quiet, peaceful country neighborhood. There's not one person on this road that doesn't wish they would move, and soon. On top of it, they're stealing my wireless. God only knows, literally, what they are doing over there while using my internet. I need to find out how to block them from using it.

Now, after much randomness, I shall start at the beginning of my day and let go of the stories that I want to tell. This is, of course, if my mom will stop talking to me. It's a large possibility that I'm going to have to go in another room. She had all day to talk to me, as we were together all day, but barely said a word to me, and now that I'm online typing away she wants to talk to me.

This morning I got up much earlier than I was prepared to do in lieu of a doctors appointment. I had a little bit of a rough night with not feeling well and what not, so I wasn't actually able to sleep until almost six am even though I had tried around two am.

The first thing this morning, I decided to try to get Munchkin to play with me, as I woke up to her attempting to get a toy twice the size of her out of the toy bin. This is almost all the toys, by the way. I tried as hard as I could to convince her that I was a lot of fun with toy-toys. She denied me.

I made way to the doctors and was five minutes early. That was a mistake, as was the entire appointment. I got there, signed in, and proceeded to wait for fifty five minutes after my scheduled time before they even took me into a exam room, and I waited for twenty more minutes in there. The irony in this was the rather large sign in the office stating that if you were a half an hour late or more that they would cancel your appointment automatically. What happens if they're a half an hour late? Nothing...that's what. Becky 1 says they should pay for my appointment themselves. I happen to agree, but in reality, that's not how life works.

I had last seen this doctor not even two weeks ago, and that was my first visit to him. I liked him and thought he was going to help me, but first impressions can be deceiving, contrary to popular belief. My instructions from last time were to gather all of my blood test results and bring them in to him for this appointment, and from there he'd decide the next step of treatment and seemed concerned. If this was The Gong Show, they would gong me here.

The entire appointment consisted of the doctor sitting down, looking over all of my blood tests, and that was it. He didn't look at me, exam me, nothing. If all he was going to do was look over my blood test results, I could have mailed or faxed them in, but no, he insisted on me physically coming in there. Umm, money maker anyone?

On top of that, I had also brought in a list of all the blood tests I had blood pulled for last Thursday, as in six days ago. I only had three of the test results back, as the rest of the blood had to be sent out to be tested, but I made sure I had that list of what they were testing for and specifically made him a copy as well as pointed out to him exactly what it was. What does he do? He writes out a script for me to have blood pulled for more testing that he wanted to do. You guessed it, the blood testing was for three of the same blood tests that I had blood pulled for last Thursday. One in fact, I had given him the test results for one, as it was one of the three that I had the physical test results for. There is zero reason for me to get blood pulled for a test that I had gotten back from last Thursday, and two other test viles that are so new that they're still being tested. All of this; bad enough.

He asked me to come back next Wednesday. Okay, I lie, he did not ask me, he just simply gave me a card with an appointment time on, never asking if that was a good day and time for me. Also, let's be honest here folks, we already know if I did go get the blood pulled, which I'm not going to do, that two of the tests would not be back by next Wednesday, as I would have to have the blood pulled and tested through the same place. The testing on those two tests takes around two weeks to get back.

I call them like I see them, and this guy is a money making quack. There is zero reason to continue to bring me in there to sit through him going over blood test results. Normal doctors will have the blood tests results faxed or sent to them, go over them, and call you to come in if there is a problem. Otherwise, they call you and tell you there is no problem. This is my experience at least, and I have a lot of it. Also, all the doctors I've ever had have faxed blood test scripts to the facility pulling blood unless you happen to already be in the office for something else, then they may hand you the script just because you're there. They do not make you come in just to look at blood test results and give you a script, otherwise mentioning not two words to you about your own health.

I am not going back to him on Wednesday. There is no point. I already have appointments set up with specialists through April. The only reason I was going to him was as a formality for the insurance company. I've had these appointments with specialists before him and am so far past a general practitioner at this point, that going to him was nine steps backwards, but I had to do it. I'm sure after I call the insurance company and let them know what's going on, they won't force me to continue to waste my time and their money to go back to him.

I was really hoping to have some alone time today with a good cup of tea, and my laptop for working on my novel. I thought it would be the animals that would keep me busy, therefore not allowing me to do obtain this hope. Instead, it was my mom. I've also noticed lately that I have to repeat things to her on an average of three times. She is only fifty five, which is not old, but regardless, she should get her hearing checked. I talk at a slightly loud volume as it is, and I look straight at her when I talk, but still nothing. Her friends tell me that it's the same thing with them. It wouldn't be so bad except, instead of admitting she didn't hear you, she'll flip out at you about it, claiming that you're talking quiet just because you don't want her to really hear you, or telling you that you were too far away or facing the wrong way, even when you're looking straight at her from two feet away. How this makes sense to her, I don't know.

My mom was talking about my grandma today and how she will not listen to anyone no matter what. My grandma is well known for arguing with doctors, which I didn't know until recently. We both share an auto-immune doctor, as she has scleroderma and I have a form of lupus, and we both love the same doctor. I happened to be at said auto-immune doctor sans grandma when the doctor suggested some testing to be done. I told her that I was like my grandma, and I didn't really care what she did to me, as long as she was trying to figure out what was going on. She laughed at told me that my grandmother fought her tooth and nail a lot. This I did not know, as gram went through a two year period where she decided not to tell us (as in her entire family) that she had scleroderma and had her friend take her to the doctors. We take her now, but apparently we missed all the fighting.

I hopped in the bathtub tonight to try to loosen the horrible kink that is keeping me from turning my head the whole way to the left. When I got out of the bathtub, I heard something in the wall. After listening for a few minutes, I realized it was a little mouse, which is not uncommon in the walls of my room, but I just hadn't heard one for awhile. Unfortunately for me, the mouse is in one of the inaccessible walls, so there's no way for me to really get mouse poisoning anywhere near that wall, as the crawl space under our house is obstructed that far back. I decided that it's probably worse in the wall for him than it is for me just having to listen to him. Therefore, I've named him Leonard and we are in negotiations to be BFFs.

Quote of the day: "It's like when the Grinch stole Christmas and all the little Whos' sang anyway." Do I really need to express my continual love for That 70's Show?

Song of the day: Revenge Is Sweeter by Australian duo The Veronica's off of their newest and second album Hook Me Up. I've spent half the day singing the first six lines.

P.S. -The show Make Me A Supermodel reminds me, in a weird way, of how much I've always wanted to be a scene model. I'm such a dreamer. Yes, I am one of "those" girls. I think they are beautiful. I think there is a way to be "scene" and be classy. Scene has gotten a bad wrap due to certain establishments that I will not mention or deface, but it can be a fun way to express yourself with the right clothes that cover but show off your body, and a little bit of fun makeup. Scene doesn't equal slut, emo, or severley pierced and brooding kids. As long as you are yourself, do labels matter and are they necessary? Think about it. (Picture one: Audrey Kitching. Picture 2: Jac Vanek)