Perhaps another person, after a two hour wait in the doctor’s office only to finally be noticed, asked, and told by said doctor ‘What are you doing here? You’re not on my schedule’ – perhaps some other person would have taken it in stride, talked calmly to the receptionist and gone about her day.
I’m not another person.
While I can hardly blame my doctor for the snafu of her subordinates, I did take a rather firm stance with the receptionist, who tried to palm me off to yet another nurse who’d look in my ears, declare that no, there’s nothing up there, not even a build up of wax, then ask again if I have a fever or any pain associated with this continual deafness. Perhaps my voice took a harder edge than necessary; but after getting up with my alarm to be there right when the office opened my famous lack of patience had reached its very end. Before the other waiting patients and her and everyone else’s God, I declared that no, I would NOT see yet another nurse to go thru the same three procedures and questions and then tell me that I needed to see the doctor – that happened yesterday, and I was assured twice that all I had to do today was show up between 8 and 11 and the doctor would fit me in as an emergency case.
Another 24 hour wait for a now set in stone appointment with a real doctor who’s gonna do the same fucking things: look in my ears, comment that there’s some redness, ask if I have a fever, ask if my ear hurts me, and ask if I’ve used nasal spray for a week. Good Goddess! I went in the first time saying this was an inner ear problem; no one listened. The second time I said it was an inner ear problem; no one listened.
I’m real fucking tired of this.
And while this goes on, I demand everyone speak English to me. Hearing is difficult enough; Dutch is more than difficult.
So I have missed my language lesson today, and will miss another tomorrow and the universe only knows how many more lessons I’ll miss because I can’t hear properly.
Did not want to be this frustrated at this point of the day.
Of course, I’m only able to be this frustrated over my hearing issue because I’ve received some good news on the immigration front. New attorneys love the contract I’ve drawn up, and everyone on the team agrees they see no impediment to our retaining our residency rights. We’ve even been assured of secondary and tertiary plans if the all-seeing eyes and minds of our team are wrong.
We will not be kicked out of the country or forced to move.
That’s good, and comforting. Not entirely free of immigration issue anxiety, but it’s now at a very low ebb and my mind is, I find, free to worry about other things.
Like going deaf.
The worst thing is now I miss my language lessons more than ever. They’re a reason to get me out of this house and thinking about other things.
Nothing to distract me for the rest of the day. Or tomorrow. Or the weekend, for that matter.
The table is strewn with medicine boxes. Another reminder I live in a sick body. I’m pleased with my own foresight; I ordered up the big pain relief guns that include enough codeine to put me down and have already scarfed one down my throat. Drug me. I can’t take the waiting and the worry anymore.
It’s my duty to pull myself up out of this cloud by the time my bro returns from his language lesson. I’m not the only one in this house juggling worry and physical problems, and I don’t need my frustration to add to his. Telling him I feel frustrated this morning is one thing; taking that frustration out either on him or on any imagined “them” with a tirade of my verbal acid is quite a different thing.
Calm. Ohm. I make no beans about it: that’s the Haze joint I rolled combined with the creep of the codeine, dampening everything to a soft fuzz. Is it right of me to feel so thankful for my stingy combination of prescribed and street drugs? Even that question fades away. It is what it is.
And I needed it.