Once upon a very hot time, Crazy Chicken Lady checked her chickens before closing the coop for the evening and she observed Phoebe panting and holding her wings away from her body and got worried about heat stroke. So she brought her in for awhile to sit in front of the fan. And stepped in poop on the way in. And was holding a chicken so she couldn’t wipe it off. She walked funny to keep it off the floor. Then Phoebe pooped on the floor. And Crazy Chicken Lady realized this was really stupid and decided to clean her foot and take the fan out to the coop instead. The End. *curtsies*
Sat night: ER for chest and jaw pain, wonky heart rate. Told to call CR Heart Center Monday morning to schedule a stress test.
Monday morning: Made appointment; first available: Wednesday at 9am.
Wednesday 8:45am: Check into CRHC.
8:48am: Reception asks for insurance card. I tell them I have none but I’ve reapplied for Medicaid but haven’t gotten answer yet. She says they can’t help me. Directs me to go to Free Clinic and request a referral back to CRHC.
9:05am: Arrive at Free Clinic.
9:10am: Check in.
9:40: See nurse, give story, get vitals. (P.S. heart rate = 114.)
9:48: Back to waiting room.
10:26: Sent to another waiting room.
10:34: Sent to exam room.
10:48: Doc walks in.
10:55: Doc walks out.
11:15: Doc walks in. Doc says nothing they can do. They can’t give referral to CRHC. Have to wait for Medicaid approval or denial. Gave me an IowaDoesntGiveAFuck app but not sure if that covers my problem. Says if I have any chest or jaw pain, go to ER. P.S. Can’t help with meds I’m out of either; must call Abbe Center.
11:20: Check out of free clinic.
11:21: Go behind a barn and shoot myself. (just kidding.)
I’ll come back later and try to make this funny. Or sexy. Because sex sells, not whining.
Finally, the depression has let up… I feel like I just broke through the surface of the water and I’m gasping for breath.
That’s about it.
When I was in about 6th grade to 10th grade, my best friend, Tina, had a condition that meant she was lacking a couple layers of skin, the epidermis, I think. This meant we had to be super careful when we were playing, because if you touched her too hard, she’d get a nasty, angry, black-and-blue bruise or even start bleeding from just a small amount of pressure.
I think I have that condition, only it just affects my heart.
I hate it.
I hate my feelings. I hate my tears. I hate my sensitivity.
I hate it. I detest it. I abhor it.