Had a follow-up appointment with the nurse practitioner from hell on Monday. I was not looking forward to it, and had geared myself up to do everything I could to get my Adderall refilled and me out of there as fast as possible. But I think nurse-lady got the message that I considered her (cursory, spurious, and uninformed*) assessment to be bogglingly off-base. A couple days after my May appointment I dropped her a note letting her know that I was discontinuing the Celexa she'd bullied me into starting and why I didn't feel the need to be on an antidepressant. I was cordial and non-confrontational. Honest!
I never got a reply and didn't think about it beyond wondering whether she'd read it. But as soon I got through the door, nurse-lady does a little song-and-dance of "another practitioner departed, my workload increased, for future follow-ups you'll need to see either doctor so-and-so or such-and-such" and hands over my Adderall refill prescription. Since she didn't mention refilling the Celexa, I'm assuming she did indeed read my missive.
Man, she wanted me out of there quick-like. If I hadn't asked her to repeat the doctors' names, I wouldn't have said a single word to her. Irony there. She babbled about her situation to me. But that suited me fine. I wasn't exactly gagging to have a tête-à-tête with her.
And I've decided not to make a follow-up with a pdoc. I'll check to see if either my GP or my Rheumatologist, whom I see on a regular basis to keep tabs on my Lupus/MCTD anyway, can refill my Adderall. I'd like not to have to shell out a co-pay just to have a pdoc scribble out a refill. It's one thing if my emotional equilibrium is totally off kilter and I need the services of a mental health professional, but it's not, and I don't.
Also got a call from fosteronfilm's mom the other day. Dad-in-law's back in the hospital, back on a respirator. He's had another dangerous buildup of CO2 (isn't there some preventative treatment for that?? They already know he's unable to expel it on his own anymore . . .). They also have him on a dialysis machine. MiL wasn't sure if she should approve the hospital's request to hook him up to it. She didn't know what it was and was worried that it constituted one of those unendurable, dignity-killing quality of life treatments that both she and DiL are adamant about not subjecting him to. After Matthew explained to her what a dialysis machine was for, she gave the hospital the go ahead. It concerns me that she doesn't have a better grasp of DiL's medical treatments. Why doesn't the hospital make a better effort at informing her?
DiL is fully expected to recover from this latest hospital adventure, and we're prepping for our trip north.
*What, me still incensed? Naaah.
"Souls of Living Wood" in Modern Magic got some nice comments from Elizabeth A. Allen in her Tangent review:
"Foster juggles the hilarious personalities of the obstreperous customers well with the genteel voice of the house in a story that’s surprisingly gentle"
- 5K on the Swan Lake story (now titled "Black Swan, White Swan") bringing it to zero draft. I foisted it upon fosteronfilm to first reader and did a pair of editing passes to get it to first draft. Loaded it to Critters.org this morning.
Such a relief and release to finish a fiction piece. This one was an experiment in present tense, a style I typically eschew as I think past is a better storytelling vehicle. Present is rarely done effectively and often has the undesirable effect of pulling the reader out instead of immersing them. But I thought this story, because of the rapid fire POV hops into my main character's head, lended itself to present. I found myself writing all her internal dialogue in present--past tense threw the pacing off, lacking the off-balance quickness I was going for--so it made sense to have the rest of the story match. Curious to see how it'll be received.
Matthew liked it well enough, although I think he would've said anything to get me not to play "Ave Maria" one more time. I assembled a playlist soundtrack/mix for this story--I was quite put out to discover that we don't have Tchaikovsky's complete Swan Lake suite on CD--which I ran on repeat while I was writing to keep me grounded in the mood. I gate out auditory input extremely readily, so didn't notice how many times it looped. But he can't disregard sound like I can.
The mix is 45 minutes long. I estimate it played somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 times in just the last few days.
- Payment for my last freelance gig and specs for my next.
Club 100 For Writers