We've been having a few fucking bad weeks over here, between head colds, Aaron traveling and basic life stuff I'm having a hard time finding the happiness. Hell. I'm having a hard time coping.
Even all the goddamn naps are pissing me off. A person who naps as much as I do should not be so fucking bitter. But lo, I am.
The true crux of the situation is really having to take Darwin to the doctor for potential pink eye two weeks ago. We love our doctor. I mean, love our doctor. She has multiple food allergies too, so she totally gets it. It's like speaking an undecipherable-to-the-normal-population, talking to someone else who has insane food allergies. We get each other and know what it's like.
And she's out on maternity leave.
(Which, I couldn't be happier for her and her family.)
And, thus, we had to see another doctor at the practice. The appointment was fine, they did a test on Darwin's eyes. But the issues began when they called with the results and decided to go through our medical records and, well... it's just a mess. With insane accusations of our family not having allergies and magically falsifying reports to prevent immunizations on their behalf. Which? I don't feed my children a gluten-free, dairy-free, egg-free, legume-free, nut-free, soy-free, squash-free, citrus-free diet for fun. And the request of the office manager for me to write up what happened so she could submit it to the practice's review board... which, yes, basically sounds like what happened is going to cause this doctor and his staff to lose their jobs.
The whole situation is just totally nauseating. The way I was treated was horrible. Treating anyone that way would be horrible, let alone a pregnant person with a history of premature labor. It's really fucking awful. And now needing to stare at a computer and needing to regurgitate what happened is causing me to have a panic attack. But if I don't, who's going to insure that this doesn't happen to another patient at that practice again?
Blarg. I'm so sick of Adult Responsibilities.
On another note, the puppy has decided winter gloves are a taste-y nom nom. I have decided to kill her. But not really. Damn dog.