I owe my soul to the company store...

Miserably sad. Feelin' sorry for myself and for others. Had a crap visit for my girly checkup with a new GYN today- my shrink had hinted/agreed that after the disastrous endocrinologist visit I should see a regular doc 'bout my hormone tests rather than Planned Parenthood, so I picked a lady doc listed with my insurance (I like men, but prefer someone with personal experience of cooters examining mine). I didn't realize that because P. P'hood is pro-choice, and doesn't wanna guilt trip anyone in either direction, they don't have pictures of babies all over their walls (they have funny posters listing all the stuff you can Do instead of It- some cheesy, some not), but regular non-pro-choice gynos apparenly have HUNDREDS of babies they've helped with- and this is why I didn't choose an OB/gyn!!!!!!!. Given my extreme issues about kids-of-my-own, given my own STRONG pro-choice stance, and given that the purpose of my visit was partly to discuss birth control methods, the cute (and NOT cute) baby pics were seriously discouraging and sad. Out of all 2- or 300, there was only one little guy I wanted, (and he damn near killed me). I would never, ever recommend that office to a preggers and conflicted friend, put it that way. Then the doc- who was barely older than me, which felt weird (I miss my ARNP in Tally so much!!)- told me that the weird hormone test I owe 300 bucks for DOESN'T COUNT cause I was on the Pill at the time, and the test had to be redone. Then, during our BC talk, I realized she's the kind of doc that doesn't like patients who do their own research- unlike my fantastic (yet conservative) shrink- and then, when she heard the word "bipolar," she shut down entirely. I asked about Chantix, the quit-smoking pill, which my INSANE CHAINSMOKING coworker has done unbelievably well with, and she was all, "Well, given... your history... I'd be a little nervous recommending it...." Yeah. Whatevs. (BITCH). My shrink is okay with prescribing anything I truly should take, even cholesterol meds- which are decidedly Not Head Meds- yet this woman can remind me I have NO BUSINESS smoking at my age on the Pill, prescribe me more Pills, but not be willing to prescribe something that might help me finally quit for good, cause I'm a wee bit "off" in the head. NOT that she wanted to discuss it, even in light of the OBVIOUS cycle my moods follow, not even with the questionable hormone tests. No wonder that office has you watch a 10 minute video about malpractice and arbitration before they'll see you. To get as close to cussing as Southern women are sposed to do, BLESS THEIR HEARTS, they're more cautious than a rabbit in a fox preserve. GAR.

So I came home, took a nap, noticed I'm a hundred bucks overdrawn (whoops! Ouch!), made an appt with my regular doc to get Chantix (I told the receptionist the situ, she said, "OMG! My husband quit with that ! How's tomorrow?" I said, "I have no money for the copay," and she said, "Who cares? We'll bill you for months!" So I'm going). I felt a little better, PPV'd "Interview With the Vampire" for 2 bucks, then, 3 mins into the glorious silliness that is Tommy C playing Lestat got a txt from my friend and co-worker that he got "walked" today. That's the D***** euphemism for getting shitcanned and walked out of the building by security guards who may or may not let you collect your belongings-including car keys. He's having an Unemployment Gathering, assuming 8 or more people show up (work in-joke), and I can't go. Not cause of Dan's sleep-depped fit the other night, I just can't go. I have barely enough gas to get to the doc's tomorrow, no money to get more, my car insurance is currently nonexistent, I barely remember how to get to my friend's house, and since my bad bout of neuritis, I'm terrified when driving in the dark (the blind spot's mostly gone most of the time, but I'm terrified it'll return full-bore, especially at night. I try not to mention to anyone when it's only a little noticeable- I'm too darn scared of MS or simple (!) blindness), and I'll be DAMNED if I'm gonna tell my newly unemplyed friend that I'm too broke to come over. That's like the one-legged cripple sobbing to the no-legged cripple. Not to be vulgar, but it IS.

Anyway, I'm not the happiest camper this minute. Glad I'm off tomorrow, glad in a weird way that my cousin finally had himself a baby girl (don't ask), shamefully glad I haven't been fired yet. I keep counting off all the friends I've had there who are gone now and getting sadder and sadder about trying to have friends at work at all, but I'm okay. And lucky, so far. Yay.