Friday, October 21, 2011

I am NOT nuts.....I don't think.....or am I....I don't know......

So yesterday was my annual crotch  well-woman check up.  It's still there.  So that was good to know.  You may recall last year how I lamented over this appointment, shaved my knees for nothing and was sent off to take some type of hormone therapy to help improve my quality of life.  Well, I never did take that hormone therapy - I convinced myself I didn't need it and that through proper diet, exercise and a daily attitude adjustment I could get a handle on my life quality.  Well, sometime during the year, my doctor left the practice so I had to see a different doctor.  Things were going along pretty well but then he asked the dreaded question:  Any questions, concerns, complaints? 

The old me would have smiled broadly and quickly replied, "NOPE!"  The new and improved me looked him square in the eye and smiled broadly and replied, "I have gotten my hands on some Xanax illegally and I'd like a prescription for that for myself so I don't feel so criminal when I take it. I only take 1/2 at a time and only when I feel as though I'm going to snap."   I thought the request seemed pretty simple and should have been greeted with him whipping out his pen and script pad and getting busy writing up that script - I even started drooling at the thought of having my own bottle - marked with MY NAME and not having to hide the unmarked bottle in my closet so no one would find it.  I would be the proud owner of my very own Xanax!  As I sat there in my Xanax daydream bliss, I noticed he wasn't scribbling out a script.  He wasn't even nodding his head.  Instead, he had a VERY concerned look on his face and sat back down. 

Him:  Tell me more about this feeling that you're going to snap.

Me:  Well, maybe that is exaggerated a bit, but it's like when every single person I encounter at home, at work, in the general public, on the phone, on Facebook - just everyone - is a complete dumbass and I want to scream at them and tell them what a fucknugget they are - just when I feel like that, it causes me to pause and think maybe.... JUST's ME.  I mean - it's not really possible for everyone in the world to be that annoying all on the same day is it? 

Him:  {smirky grin} mmm hmmmm I see.

Me:  See.  For instance - that just irritated me.  I don't like your response.  But I'm thinking it's probably a valid reaction to what I just said but it pisses me off and I kind of want to punch you right now.  But I'm not a violent person so I don't think that will actually happen.

Him:  How often do you feel this way? 

Me:  Well.  Not much.  Maybe 7 - 14 times a month is all. 

Him:  So 50% of your life you are upset and want to punch people?

Me:  Well, I guess when you put it that way, maybe it's 80% - don't you think people have gotten more annoying lately?  Like the world has gone crazy?

Him:  {smirky grin}  And tell me - do you sleep well at night?

Me:  It depends really.  During a full moon I do not sleep at all.

Him:  Do stay up at night and howl?  {belts out laughter}

Me:  See - you're pissing me off again.  I've heard of other people having sleep trouble during full moons, so I don't think I'm a werewolf, I think it just throws off my sleep pattern - or maybe it's because it's so bright and I don't have any window treatments in my bedroom - but something certainly throws it off and I don't sleep.

Him:  Any other time you don't sleep well?

Me:  Yes - when Aunt Flo is in visiting.

Him:  And how often is that?

Me:  I don't really know.  Seems she visits randomly - like for special occasions, holidays, days I plan to wear white capris, days I am going to the lake to boat, you know - just whenever she knows she can most fuck with me is when she arrives - so I've tried to be fairly clandestine with my plans so she won't be aware of them, but she's a sneaky bitch and always figures it out.

Him:  Right.  Right.  How often do you take those Xanax?

Me:  Well really only when I want to kill my husband, have to ride in the car with my husband, have to go to a gathering where there will be a large crowd, if I have to go to the other part of town, when my daughter wants to go to the mall.  You know.  Just when I feel a little out of control.

Him:  And do you feel sad?

Me:  Not today.  But Monday I felt sad.  It was gloomy and gray - so I slept all day so I didn't have to deal with it.  And I wasn't really sad now that I think about it - I just didn't give a shit - except for the couple of times I wanted to face punch a few people.  I just had no energy or will to live. 

Him:  I think you need to take an SSRI to help get your neurons back on track.  As women get older, their neurons get confused and a little haywire and sometimes just need a little help to get leveled back out. 

And with that he FINALLY starts writing the script

Him:  But not Xanax and not something that's an on-demand, as-needed drug - I'm thinking something routine - something that gets you a higher quality of life than 1-2 weeks a month of feeling good, sleeping well and feeling joyful.  {YAY!!!  It's a medicinal marijuana script!!!}

Me:  Okay - but will this help with my anxiety?

Him:  Do you have anxiety at severe levels {as he stops writing the script}

Me:  Well, I'm not sure.  I get nervous when I have to get the mail because I'm afraid I might get run down by a texting driver. 

Him:  {no response - tears up the script - and starts writing a new one}

Me:  And about 12 years ago I took an anti-depressant and they made me feel NOTHING.  I wasn't sad anymore - but I never felt joy either - just an emotionless sack of bones - I won't take those things if I will no longer have the desire to bust out laughing at everything I see - I just won't.

Him:  {no verbal response - tears up the 2nd script - and starts writing a new one}

Me:  Seriously.  I won't.  I'm already having a panic attack at the thought of watching people laugh and me feeling nothing at all.  I mean what's the point? 

Him:  Yes.  I do understand.  I think I'll just study on this some more and call your script in to the pharmacy so you can just pick it up there.  Come back in 6 weeks and let's see if you feel a bit better.  Okay?  Nice to meet you -and take the medicine.

And with that he quickly scurried out of the room.  Like I was some type of fucking lunatic or something.  When I got home, I told the husband what had happened:

Me:  They put me on some type of medicine because the doctor thinks I'm a fucking nut job.

Him:  What time will your script be ready?  I'll go get it for you.


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