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Update: Commander's Log 2019.11.666
Nov. 28th, 2019 05:24 am Out of Effexor, out of Trazadone, have been trying to get both scripts filled since last Friday. So, you know-- haven't slept, anxiety out the ass, panic attacks, blah blah blah.
Still get up and go to work.
Still have the rash-- the stuff on my feet is better due to the cream Stephanie prescribed me, and the secondary rash, or the thirdendary rash? fourthendary rash? anyway, the little red dots are gone and I think that really was due to Keflex, Second Cousin of Penicillan.
I'm still covered in the other stuff and it's miserable. It is like being covered in ant bites that sting and itch. Steph had sent me to Peterson last Thursday to have blood drawn for a full CBC panel because SHE is worried it's some shit called Mycosis Fungoides. It's a T cell blood cancer lymphoma which is often misdiagnosed for years as psoriasis, eczema, allergies, hives... It often begins as rough patches on the skin in the buttocks area as far back as childhood and comes and goes which is why it's misdiagnosed. It's relatively a 'good' cancer, unless it goes untreated because then, since it's blood crap, it can spread to internal organs, bone marrow, lymph nodes etc. (The first time I got that rough patch of skin in my crack? Age 4. I've had this, whatever this is, ALL MY LIFE. I can distinctly remember finding it on my butt up on the hill in 1968 because it was itchy and I felt it and thought how much trouble I was going to be in if Mother saw it because she'd think I'd wiped wrong or something.)
This is what Stephanie panicked over last Thursday and sent me from her office to Peterson's. And we discussed him taking blood and doing a work up on it, but then all that happened was I got a steroid shot. And it wasn't until after I had left his office that I realized I had not gotten any blood work done and it should not be MY responsibility as the PATIENT to remind a doctor, Oh hey! You're supposed to get a blood panel to test me for this cancer. He was clearly in a hurry and had worked me in last minute, so I thought, Okay... he's going to order that for Friday-- but nope.
And I told him I needed to have someone fill the Trazadone and Effexor for me and he said he'd call that in-- but all he called in was that $200 thing again for my acid reflux/hiatal hernia which I am NEVER going to fill because that is ridiculous-- the stuff Acosta gave me works and costs $8 freaking dollars.. And I've called his offfice Mon, and Tues, and Wed and get put on hold, get voice mail, get a call back when I can't answer it because I am at work... call them back and get voice mail. I called the psychiatrist Lindy Bankes to ask if she could refill it and was told that since I was not under her care, she could not. I asked Steph if she could and she said, no, I can't do long term scripts like that, I'm a PA, Glenda, I am so worried about you, did you get the blood panel done?
Meanwhile, back at the Casa, Bubby got the pickup repaired and he and Jacob took it to Nate. While he was gone the toilet backed up and over flowed and I know it's to do with the foundation at this house and I tried to call Dixon, the land lord, to ask which plumber to get in, but he is out of the country. So then the washer quit draining and I couldn't do laundry-- Think of all the ramifications of that. You can't poop or pee in the house unless you do it elsewhere than the commode and you can't wash clothing because the system is backed up.
And then I came home and got met in the driveway by a cop-- and I knew he was waiting for me personally, because he was parked, in his Tahoe, on End Street outside the gate to the place where the travel trailer is parked.
And I honestly was like, Oh, SHIT-- What NOW?! Is there a warrant for Sarah again??? And when he knew my name I was double freaked, because cops should not know your name unless you've worked with them. If they know your name, you've got a warrant. You're on the Frequent Flyer plan. They are there to tell you that you're under arrest, or someone has died. It's not good news.
But, nah. He wanted to know if we had had anything 'messed with' -- but he started it off with, "Your neighbor behind you" and I thought, oh my god, she saw me pooping out under the hackberry tree and filed on me for public defecation* in my back yard, at night, Now I have to explain to this guy about my current plumbing situation and I know me so I am going to go into too much detail and oh dear baby Jesus, this is awkward, can they arrest me for that? I'm outside the city limits on purpose and how the HELL could she see me through those weeds and skeet trees and that big purple barn thingie????
But, again, NAH.
She had had things 'messed with' and he wanted to know if I had seen anyone suspicious in the neighborhood, someone who didn't belong, so I gave him detailed descriptions on Black Hoodie and White Hoodie. And then he told me he'd looked in my yard here and it looked as if someone had been back out behind the purple barn in the back-- which he called an abandoned building and I told him no, it's just storage, not abandoned and I check it to make sure no one has broken into it, it belongs to my landlord--
So much talking to the PO PO which ate up my lunch hour so I didn't get to eat.
And there's more, but I am done for now.
Still get up and go to work.
Still have the rash-- the stuff on my feet is better due to the cream Stephanie prescribed me, and the secondary rash, or the thirdendary rash? fourthendary rash? anyway, the little red dots are gone and I think that really was due to Keflex, Second Cousin of Penicillan.
I'm still covered in the other stuff and it's miserable. It is like being covered in ant bites that sting and itch. Steph had sent me to Peterson last Thursday to have blood drawn for a full CBC panel because SHE is worried it's some shit called Mycosis Fungoides. It's a T cell blood cancer lymphoma which is often misdiagnosed for years as psoriasis, eczema, allergies, hives... It often begins as rough patches on the skin in the buttocks area as far back as childhood and comes and goes which is why it's misdiagnosed. It's relatively a 'good' cancer, unless it goes untreated because then, since it's blood crap, it can spread to internal organs, bone marrow, lymph nodes etc. (The first time I got that rough patch of skin in my crack? Age 4. I've had this, whatever this is, ALL MY LIFE. I can distinctly remember finding it on my butt up on the hill in 1968 because it was itchy and I felt it and thought how much trouble I was going to be in if Mother saw it because she'd think I'd wiped wrong or something.)
This is what Stephanie panicked over last Thursday and sent me from her office to Peterson's. And we discussed him taking blood and doing a work up on it, but then all that happened was I got a steroid shot. And it wasn't until after I had left his office that I realized I had not gotten any blood work done and it should not be MY responsibility as the PATIENT to remind a doctor, Oh hey! You're supposed to get a blood panel to test me for this cancer. He was clearly in a hurry and had worked me in last minute, so I thought, Okay... he's going to order that for Friday-- but nope.
And I told him I needed to have someone fill the Trazadone and Effexor for me and he said he'd call that in-- but all he called in was that $200 thing again for my acid reflux/hiatal hernia which I am NEVER going to fill because that is ridiculous-- the stuff Acosta gave me works and costs $8 freaking dollars.. And I've called his offfice Mon, and Tues, and Wed and get put on hold, get voice mail, get a call back when I can't answer it because I am at work... call them back and get voice mail. I called the psychiatrist Lindy Bankes to ask if she could refill it and was told that since I was not under her care, she could not. I asked Steph if she could and she said, no, I can't do long term scripts like that, I'm a PA, Glenda, I am so worried about you, did you get the blood panel done?
Meanwhile, back at the Casa, Bubby got the pickup repaired and he and Jacob took it to Nate. While he was gone the toilet backed up and over flowed and I know it's to do with the foundation at this house and I tried to call Dixon, the land lord, to ask which plumber to get in, but he is out of the country. So then the washer quit draining and I couldn't do laundry-- Think of all the ramifications of that. You can't poop or pee in the house unless you do it elsewhere than the commode and you can't wash clothing because the system is backed up.
And then I came home and got met in the driveway by a cop-- and I knew he was waiting for me personally, because he was parked, in his Tahoe, on End Street outside the gate to the place where the travel trailer is parked.
And I honestly was like, Oh, SHIT-- What NOW?! Is there a warrant for Sarah again??? And when he knew my name I was double freaked, because cops should not know your name unless you've worked with them. If they know your name, you've got a warrant. You're on the Frequent Flyer plan. They are there to tell you that you're under arrest, or someone has died. It's not good news.
But, nah. He wanted to know if we had had anything 'messed with' -- but he started it off with, "Your neighbor behind you" and I thought, oh my god, she saw me pooping out under the hackberry tree and filed on me for public defecation* in my back yard, at night, Now I have to explain to this guy about my current plumbing situation and I know me so I am going to go into too much detail and oh dear baby Jesus, this is awkward, can they arrest me for that? I'm outside the city limits on purpose and how the HELL could she see me through those weeds and skeet trees and that big purple barn thingie????
But, again, NAH.
She had had things 'messed with' and he wanted to know if I had seen anyone suspicious in the neighborhood, someone who didn't belong, so I gave him detailed descriptions on Black Hoodie and White Hoodie. And then he told me he'd looked in my yard here and it looked as if someone had been back out behind the purple barn in the back-- which he called an abandoned building and I told him no, it's just storage, not abandoned and I check it to make sure no one has broken into it, it belongs to my landlord--
So much talking to the PO PO which ate up my lunch hour so I didn't get to eat.
And there's more, but I am done for now.
