The part I was stressing about the most? Somara freaking out because I really did it Friday night during the peak period of my icouldntgiveashititis. He still wants me to come in to have an epilog and adjust the medication I stopped taking about a month ago, HA! I’ll pass. I’m enjoying the return of my anger since trying to go along with the ruling caste at work has been futile. So why bother? As I explained earlier, extra effort must be reciprocated unless one is a masochist. I think it’s also the definition of insanity, continuing to accept being on the business end of a buggering, thinking, oh this time it’ll be different.
Now am I blaming the doctor? No. For the most part, he has been good and helpful. I just can’t stand stand being bottled up any longer. At times I feel like I haven’t been alive, as if I’m partially asleep, enduring the bullshit from people who’ve never done my job yet think they have a right to judge, assess and provide a solution. Yeah, those assholes are called consultants, you know, the guy we knew in college who could tell you how to have sex with a woman a hundred different ways but unsurprisingly, he doesn’t have a girlfriend.
The doctor being ditched is a step in the right direction. Will I get another doctor? I’m leaning toward no. Somara begs to differ. I’m tired of caring. I often find myself remembering an old, dark joke Bill Hicks used to tell. Mostly what they do is pimp pills while the clinics do the same if you have a lingering cough. Ummm, I don’t have a PhD but shouldn’t antibiotics be given for a bacterial infection not viral?
Back to enjoying the return of who I really am and jamming to an old favorite, The Who’s Quadraphenia.