I just love how descriptive I can be...
For starters, I had to go back to the doctor's office. Mainly to get refills on my meds, but, also for the mandatory checkup that they like to do. From experience, I know that some doctors wont give you refills unless you're there in person, so, off I went.
I kinda figured it was a bad omen when everybody on the SEPTA bus decided to stand when they got on, rather than sit next to me on the way up. I shower, people. And I didn't even have my headphones on that day.
I get there, on time, surprisingly, and showed my way to a room. The nurse takes my stats,and tells me to take a seat. Then she asks about my hair.
Yes, I did this on my own. I used Special Effects' Joyride and Jerome Russell Bleach Vol. 30. It usually takes me an hour if I want the best results. Yes it's permanent. Yes, I have a few broken pieces from not taking care of it. In reality, I only get the first line out before she tells me about her daughter's mishaps at a random salon "full of Asian women". She has pictures to back it all up, too. I want to give her advice, but she seems too wrapped up in her story.
After a 10 minute wait, the doctor shows up. We do the customary "How's things?" with each other while she looks up my stuff in the computer.
"Aah, here we are. Did you see the dermatologist? What did he say?"
"Uh, no. I um...didn't have the money to go."
She's a little surprised. She checks my back, and, thankfully, the spot wasn't even there anymore.
"What about the endocrinologist? What's up with him?"
"He told me to lose weight. And that was it."
"Did he discuss the test results with you?"
"Uh, no, he just told me in so may words that I'm chunky. And that I shouldn't be."
She looks at me for a second before going back to the screen. She then finds the test I took with him, and lists off his notations. There was so much she said that came back abnormal, that I wasn't even sure it was English after 30 seconds.
"Well, you really need to follow up with him."
Yeah, I'll do that.
"Okay. But, he never told me any of that. Just so you know."
"Well...you need to follow up with somebody, then.
And now...let's see...the CA125. Where are you with that?"
"Got imaging done twice, they sent me to Fox Chase. Fox Chase said I was clear."
"Ok. Just to be sure, you should talk it over with your gynecologist. She might want to re-test you to be safe."
She pokes and prods me a bit, the way doctors usually do, before filling out my prescriptions.
"I'm actually going to take you off the Serovent. Studies have found it hurts more people than it helps."
I had been taking this medicine for 10 years now. If it was going to hurt me, I would think it would of happened already. Not to mention, I think the one she's keeping me on is crap, anyway.
"We also need you to re-do the blood and urine tests from last year. You had said the results might of been inaccurate because--"
"Uh-huh. I'll do them."
I eventually walk out of there with a wad of paper the size of a book. Depressed, I walk back home rather than take the bus. I didn't care if it was too hot for a hoodie. I didn't care that my head felt like it was going to explode. Not even the mighty power of Calabrese perked me up.
Because, in a nutshell, I'm dying.
Slowly, but surely.
And, honestly, she could of saved paper, time and money if she just handed me a bottle of strychnine.
So, yeah, theres that.
And...these. For what it's worth.
I used a really crappy pencil to do these, and it kind of shows.
She kind of looks like Twilight Sparkle, but human and like, bitey.
Joe said it kind of reminded him of a Pokemon.
I see a rejected Hasbro toy.
Because...well, why not?
But...wait! Where's the blood? The gore? The craziness?
It's coming. Trust me. I've already got 2 more down, and your wishes will be fulfilled.
If I'm not tucked away in the ground first.