So, I ran out of Vicodin which limits my pain killer options. Turns out having a car accident, bronchitis, sciatica, and arthritis (all one after the other and/or together) really demands narcotics. This means that I'm coping with my current terrible arthritis pain by having a glass of port and watching Grey's Anatomy. In related news, Kevin will probably start getting a headache soon. He just can't handle his port... it certainly isn't the mind-numbing, terrible drama that I enjoy for some reason.
I slept horridly last night- every time I switched positions I hit/moved/laid on something that was achey. So it woke me up. It sucked. I was cranky today.
I went to the doctor today to discuss that ten-day issue that I blogged about last. Except now it was a twelve-day issue. *face palm* I was in the doctor's office for over an hour before I saw the actual physician. I had reserved a half hour of my day to the doctor's appointment with a half hour afterwards for either more appointment or getting labs done. My doctor told me basically that it was a hormone imbalance. No questions. No sympathetic ear regarding my fears of miscarriage or my clotting disorder. She filled out a lab slip for me and sent me out the door with a brief apology for being "late" to see me. At what point does late stop being late and turn into something I can be angry about it? 15 minutes? 30? An hour? Seriously? Seriously.
Meredith Grey says "seriously" a lot. It's one of the things I like about her. That and her admittance that bright and shiny is hard to pull off when there's lots of dark and twisty going on.
I like that kind of honesty in a television show.