But then I just smile
OK, I'll start with when I got up from writing that last post. I went to my room to take a shower and found a man folding his clothes outside his door which was 8 feet from my door. He was waiting for me to show up so that he could let me know that he was mad at me. The other day, he loaned me a pair of glasses because I could actually see pretty well through the bifocal part. Anyway, today he said, "Come here, I have something for you." I walked over and saw him go into his room and pick up the case to the glasses. I actually thought he was going to let me borrow THAT too. I thought it was sweet...for a split second. Then he opened it and held it open and, without saying a word, motioned for me to:
1. Take off the glasses.
2. Put them back in the case.
Really. It's OK, I couldn't see before and I haven't been walking into walls. And maybe the glasses worked in some half assed way, but he was the one who got mad at me because I wouldn't, and this is his word, "fuck" him. I'd rather be totally blind then to touch that creepy sonofabitch.
So, I go back and blindly take a shower and then work up a sweat toweling off. I blew dried my hair and then stood in front of the AC to blow dry the sweat off of me. Then, I tried to put on deodorant. My arm pits must have been wet because the deodorant was really sliding around down there. I figured that since I don't sweat much (LOLOLOLOL), even a bit should be enough. Make-up, general silly business, a little Musk oil to the wrists and off I went to the bus stop.
I needed money for the bus so I walked to Family Dollar because the liquor store's ATM, which is closer, costs 3 bucks. So, I had to buy something and get cash back.not really thinking clearly at the time, I got a 20 pound bag of Little Friskies and walked on down to the bus stop. Now it's about 10 AM.
The buses weren't bad at all, except for the one that drove up to the stop when I was 50 yards away running with 20 pounds of kibble. But, eventually I did get to the doctors office. At 11:30...my appointment was at 2:30.
Like a normal person, I considered the fact that the doctor's office might get me and the cat food in before 2:30. I didn't even get annoyed before 2:30...that was my fault. But as the hours ticked away after 2:30, I became bored with the conversation I was having with a lovely older lady from Columbia. She told me how to make a great juice using pineapple skin. I might try it, she says it's an anti-inflammatory. So stop throwing out the pineapple skin and Google how to juice that stuff. I did learn a few new Spanish words, but I can't tell you what they were because I didn't learn to spell them. But they were English for gall bladder, help, and cat food. I learned some others but I sort of already knew them.
So I get called in to the little waiting room that you sit in alone. I read a lot...of the wall. The door said, "Por favor tocar le puerta antes de entrar." I should have started to worry then. When the doctor eventually DOES come in, I said hello in English because I'm in America and HE said, "You speak English only?" I said, "Si."
Next, he darted out of the room without saying a word to me. I wondered what could have run him off so quickly. But he soon returned with his receptionist or as she is sometimes called, his translator. Now I'm nervous. When she didn't know the medical terms I was rattling off, she tried to explain it to the doctor in round about ways using...get this...hand signals like she was Italian. At one point the doctor said, "Oh! Aneureesm!! Si!"
OK, I'm already there and on the examining table....so I decide to play this one out and see where it goes. I showed him the crazy bed bug bites on my arms (since I was wearing a sleeveless top and not legless pants I couldn't show him my leg. But they're much worse than my arms). Now, mind you, I've been in nursing since the mid 70's and I know what the heck scabies look like. Bed bugs aren't much better so I have no reason to make this up. I did NOT have scabies. If I thought I did, I wouldn't have left that office without some Kwell to get rid of them. Anyway, he and his translator tried to figure out what a bed bug is. I heard the doctor say "Scabays." I said, "NO scabies, bed bugs." I wasn't even speaking in complete sentences anymore because he couldn't understand most of what I was saying anyway. He took out a magnifying light thingie (otoscope in English, I don't know what they called it) and looked at my skin under magnification. The doctor said, "Si, bug bite." I said, "Bed bugs?" He said "Si.
Suddenly I noticed that I had not applied anywhere NEAR enough deodorant. There was nothing that I could do except hold my arms tightly to my side.
So then, he screwed up my medicines. I asked for a minor pain medication and he gave me xanax. Now, at times I might appreciate that but I already have xanax from another doctor and I can't get arrested for doctor shopping right now...I don't know a soul who would bail my ass out.
He never gave me the pain meds and wouldn't give me a referral to a pain control doc until he got all of my records. For the last 20 years. I am NOT making that up. I signed 7 release consents for hospitals alone. Then I started the doctors. Now supposedly, they're fixing the prescription error and the receptionist/translator chick was having me sign papers over and over again and we had to look up the addresses of hospitals in 4 states...online with me hanging in through her receptionist window because she was reading in some other language.
At some point they gave me a list of tests the doctor wanted me to have. For some reason, he ordered tests for every single STD I can think of. Herpes, syphllis, AIDS, gonorrhea, you name it, he listed it. He also wanted to do a PAP smear. That did it. He couldn't have been more insulting if he tried. By the time they screwed up my prescription a second time, I was not a happy camper. So when I saw the diagnosis listed as SCABIES on the computer generated paper, I went off the chain. They had just made it permanent because it's in cyber-land somewhere. Not that it really matters, but I have bed bugs, NOT SCABIES! As many people know, I hate to be a bitch. I know how to be a bitch, and I'm pretty confident about my bitch potential. But you see, I don't like being a bitch. As I've said before, bitchiness is an option, not a way of life. But alas, I felt a need to warn the public.
Now, if Spanish speaking people brag that, "Se Habla espanol", they should also let people know when they NO HABLA INGLES! So, allowing my inner bicth to come out...I did it for them. They seemed to be struggling to get finished for the day. I'll never know how long it took them to see the sign that I taped to the front door. In case you're wondering, I got the tape from a sign already on the door in Espanol. MY sign said, "DANGER! NO HABLE INGLES!". Then, I took my cat food and carried it down the street to the next bus stop.
Today it was hot and humid here except for the time it was raining. I went outside during my stay at Little Cuba and got rained on. I went outside to warm up because no me gusta mucho frio. Ordinarily I like cold, but that office was Alaska cold. Going outside seemed like a good idea until, as I was sitting under a tree reading a People magazine from July of 2012, the rain began. Like an idiot, I waited too long to give up so I was rather wet when I went back to the winter wonderland that was, for the moment, my doctor's office. I literally spent my day either sweating like a horse, freezing my sweaty ass off or feezing my rained on ass off.
So then...on the way back, I met a really cool guy and as we were getting ready to pull away from the metro station, a chick he knew got on the bus and they were both like hippie cool. They asked me if I wanted to get off the bus at their stop, 3 blocks before mine, and participate in a little 420 appreciation. I had a great time with those folk. After our little foray into fun-land, I turned to cross the street, still carrying that 20 pounds of kibble, and walked the final 3 blocks back to my little hideaway in the hood.
After that, I fed the cats! Damn, those are some sick cats. I saw one that I wanted to take and make it mine but I don't know if homless people are allowed to own animals. Next I came here to tell you about my day, now it is 10:46 PM and I am taking my sweaty ass to bed.P.S. Message waiting for me when I got back, 2 detectives were here to talk to me. Tomorrow could be fun.