Good God I Hate Doctors

I hate the medical profession. Every fricking year, I go to my General Practitioner (Dr. Death) and she runs every lab test on Planet Earth. For the past three years, I have then gotten a message from her office (generally on a Friday afternoon so I have the weekend to fret) telling me she wants me to call and make an appointment because she is concerned about some of my test results. This usually results in my rearranging my work schedule, going back in, redoing lab tests, getting the same results, getting sent to specialists, rearranging my work schedule to get to the specialists, then having the specialists tell me there is nothing wrong with me.

Every frickin' year.

This year, I got a dirty specimen and now she has me going to a urologist who has ordered a CT scan, more lab work and expects to perform some diabolical procedure under local anesthetic in his office. I assume the procedure will take place in the same room in which he has the Viagra scale model of male genitalia. I ran an internet search of that particular procedure and read a ton of horror stories from women who will never be the same after that ordeal. He admits he doesn't expect to find anything. If he is looking for a prostate, he may be right.

I scheduled the CT scan last week (for today) and immediately let his office know they had to get the authorization code to the hospital. They didn't get around to it for 24 hours. Accordingly, the authorization code was not obtained and the CT scan had to be rescheduled (which involves taking more time off - and since I am self employed, when I don't work I don't get paid).

While I was still steaming, I got another call from the General Practitioner. The nurse announced that my liver enzymes are off the charts and the GP wants me to come in to discuss it.

"That is what she said, last year," I told the nurse. "I went to a liver specialist. He said I was fine."

"This year, the numbers are even higher," sez the nurse, "LOT's higher!." (Last year, she made it sound as if the numbers were so high it was a wonder I was still walking around upright.)

Sigh.

So I asked her to fax the lab results to the liver specialist, then called the liver specialist to ask him to look at them and see if I needed to come in. The liver specialist called later to see if I had copies of the lab results because the new girl accidentally reused the fax paper that the lab results were on and now they can't read them.

Grrr. Of course I don't have them!!

Got a second call from the General Practitioner. The nurse announced that my cholesterol is too high and the GP wants me to come in to discuss.

"High high is it?" I ask.

"228," responds the nurse.

"It is always 228," I tell her. "And when they do the whole fasting test, it always comes back that I have fabulous "good" cholesterol and am in good shape on that front."

"She still wants to see you," says the nurse.

I think the woman has a frickin crush on me.

"Did you get the culture back on that bad specimen?" I ask (the one that resulted in me having to get a frickin' CT scan, see a specialist who apparently specializes in men, and who may do a frickin' procedure on me in his office).

"Nope!" sez the nurse, "We didn't culture it." [and I am thinking - You didn't even culture the thing to see if I have a UTI or something?????? - you measure everything ELSE!! I'm getting a CT scan and a procedure for the love of god!]

Breathe, Penny. Breathe...

"Is the pap back?" I ask.

"No."

"Let's wait until the pap comes back and see if she wants to discuss that, too."

"Okay!" chirps the nurse.

Between you and me, I have no intention of going back in. If I find myself in agony, bleeding profusely or on fire, I will trot myself down to the emergency room and hang out with the indigents. It would take less of my time. If I wait until it is a true emergency, the insurance may even kick in.

Sunday Stitching, Cooking and Napping

I finished up my winter table topper. It is pretty ho hum but I'm glad I did it.


I tried to make the quilting look like the wind swirls in the fabric with limited success.


I ended up just machine stitching down the binding.

I thought that quilting it on the frame might be tricky because of the shape but it was no problem.


This and that about Jezebel:

Her muzzle continues to fill in. She is even getting some whiskers back. We had a wasp inside, earlier, and she had a ball chasing it. Her right eye is weeping a bit - the same one that watered just before we discovered the melanoma. Makes me nervous but she isn't sneezing and snorting so she probably just has a cold.


Due to the time change, I was up at about 5:00 this morning. I also just ate a bunch of tomato dumplings - my favorite comfort food. It always knocks me out. I am sleepy so I'm going to go take a nap.

Happy November

Halloween was a success. It is the girls' favorite day of the year. Evelyn adores all the children and they adore her. Jezebel shrieks at the candy bowl.

We have been in the process of selling a house in Oklahoma City that my husband has owned for about 25 years. Last week, someone broke into that house and stole all the glass doorknobs. I was so mad I could spit. Yesterday, we closed on it. It is a nice little house and I hope the new owners are happy there. I 'spect they will be.

Got a chipper message from the doctor's office. They didn't tell why they wanted to talk to me but insisted I call them before I go get my X-rays on Monday. Either the new lab work came back looking better or the lady leaving the message is a real sicko.

Yesterday, I had a difficult time maintaining my professionalism. One of my GAL kids is 13 and has a 22 year old boyfriend. Yeah, I know. If I knew his name, I would go whip his ass, myself. I DO know his initials, however. And how do I know them? I know them because the child's mother took her down to the local tattoo parlor for her 14th birthday (early) and they tattooed his initials on her left breast, partially encircling the nipple. The initials are 2 inches high (spread your fingers and see how big that is). I kid you not. She was embarrassed to show it to me and I assured her I only wanted to see the tattoo - no one wanted to see anything of her other business. She insisted that she had them put it low enough that it wouldn't show above her shirt. I suppose that is something. On the other hand, I have see the low cut blouses she wears and have my doubts that anything will remain hidden from view. I told her to start saving, now, to have it removed. Poor thing. I just wanted to shake her but it is not her fault. I am absolutely furious with that woman who gave birth to her. Criminy.

I told her flat out that if one of my own kids did such a thing, they'd be shaken - and it doesn't matter that they are full grown. "So little Missy," I said, "you just consider yourself to be shaken!"

"Like I was one of your own kids?" she asked with a trembling voice.

"You bet." I told her.

Anyway, this morning I got up at about 5:00 and started on a winter table topper. I made a simple design on my EQ5 using courthouse steps blocks.


I ended up going with slightly different colors.


I added a lighter border and will probably put a dark binding on it. Alternatively, I am considering just binding it with the light fabric because I have a lot of pieces left over and it would be nice for them to not go to waste. Still thinking about it. Beauty vs. utility...


I need to baste some fabric on it to make it square, then I'll toss it up on the frame. I think a swirly quilting pattern will be fast and work pretty well.

Look at these toes!