The Doctor.

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Going to the doctor’s when you are really feeling ill is the worst thing ever. First of all, the receptionist at our doctor is not friendly. Scares the shit out of me. So I quash all thoughts of sickness, nausea, it’s all overcome by the thought of phoning her. I bite the bullet and phone. (this could also have something to do with my social anxiety. I hate the phone, in general) Get an appt. Think “fuck how far it is to the doctor’s”. Get in the car, think “fuck how far it is up those stairs”. Get into the doctor, see him, convince him I’m freaking dying here dude..! It doesn’t even bug me that the doctor mistook me for my hubby. Get a script. Fuck it’s a long way back down those stairs. Get back down to the worst parking lot that ever existed and navigate my 10 year old, lack of power steering, vehicle out of it, without bumping ANYTHING. Not even a bin. 🙂 Think “fuck how far it is to the chemist”. Park, stagger into the chemist. On this day of all days, could someone hurry the hell up and serve me, I need to get home to die in peace, on my bed….. no.. of course not. 3 of the pharmacists seem to be needed to sort out a query on the phone. The fourth can’t seem to help the customer in front of me. I sit on a chair to die there. Eventually, pharmacist calls me. Takes two hours to figure out my medical aid plan has changed (yes, I could have told them, but it’s as much as I can do to utter ‘hello’). Finally get my meds. Stagger into grocery store to buy some Energade, dry biscuits and pasta. By this time, nothing matters.. if I die here, I might as well die here as anywhere. Again – if you could just HURRY, just today, not any other day, just today. As it’s kinder to my family if I die on my bed. No… one person in front of me in the queue, but the teller seems to be trying to set a new record for going slow. Eventually get home. Swallow what seems like masses of tablets. Nibble on a ginger biscuit. Sit down and realise two things. The medical profession stopped being about the person and started being about money when doctors stopped making house calls. The second thing was gonna be ‘now I feel well enough to write all this,” but in the mean time I’ve started feeling crap again. Happy Monday folks!