phosfate

Went to see Dr C today. I really, really hate his office. It's in the bottom half of a sorta split-level medical building, with 20-something-year-old art on the walls (the goddamned stupid owl is STILL THERE) so it's like visiting your parents' basement.

He's a nice fella, though. I felt bad 'cause it's a Monday morning in the middle of summer and I Just Didn't Want To Deal, so I was Miss Clam, in spite of an overwhelming urge to grab him by the lapels and scream, "FIX ME!!!" We played with his plastic drug company brain toy for a little bit. "It would be really cool if it lit up," I said. "Yeah, but then I wouldn't have it. There's a $5.00 limit on free stuff to prevent conflict of interest. It's why doctors get a lot of pens."

He also understands the concept of hyperbole. "Uh, I don't really want to kill my supervisor, that was just..." "I know," he says, and leans in confidentially, "I didn't write it down."

Anyway, we did our 15 minutes and I still get drugs, so cool.

The Prozac guy was coming in as I left. I thought about hitting him up for a coffee mug, or my own plastic brain toy, but facing the owls had taken all my nerve.

And then I delivered a baby:
http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=finduilas&itemid=18682

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

ghostofisildur.livejournal.com

My mother was telling me a story yesterday about how her cousin and cousin's husband are on the verge of getting divorced over a fight that centred around a broken garbage can. I told my mom that would probably not be the case if one of them was on medication. The whole world would be a better place if more people were taking selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors.