I went to see my doctor today because my xanax prescription fucking expired before I got the last refill.
I guess this is a good thing. I guess it means my anxiety has been thrumming along at mostly normal levels.
This doctor is awesome. He never makes me wait, he’s friendly and has never once condescended to me. He will also give me ambien 6 months at a time. He holds a special place in my heart.
The nurse who took me back to the room was friendly. She didn’t mind when I said I wanted to skip the scale part. I was there for goddamn anti-anxiety medicine, no point in getting the anxiety ramped up.
She signed into her computer and brought my chart up.
Nurse: Okay, what diagnosis are we going to give? You really have to be careful about recording a diagnosis.
Me: I can imagine. I mean, it would suck if you came in with a broken leg and had the diagnosis as emphysema. I would have to think the treatment would be different.
Nurse: Well, no. I mean that once it’s recorded, then that information is available and it can be harmful.
Me: So, you wouldn’t want the ‘serial killer’ diagnosis.
Nurse: That’s not a diagnosis.
Me: Well, if it were, you probably really wouldn’t want to catch serial killer. I mean, you could want to catch a serial killer. If you were a cop. Or had hero fantasies.
Nurse: Why don’t we take your blood pressure now?
Like I said, she was very nice. But she didn’t seem interested in having a meaningful conversation.
It would be kind of funny if ‘serial killer’ were a diagnosis.
Bob: Dude, I had to go to the doctor. You are never going to believe what I came down with.
George: I thought you sounded like shit, what did the doctor say?
Bob: I have serial killer.
George: Serial killer isn’t a diagnosis. You can’t catch serial killer.
Bob: You have no idea how much Cap’n Crunch I ate as a kid.
George: That’s not even funny.
Bob: The treatment is even less funny.
George: Fine, I will ask. How do they treat serial killer?
Bob: Oddly enough, it’s a series of shots right in the ear drum and I have to watch reruns of the Donny and Marie show for 3 straight weeks.
George: Oh, that is horrible. The shots will probably suck, too. What’s your prognosis? How will you know when you don’t have serial killer anymore?
Bob: I don’t know. The doctor says we’ll have to take it day by day. Also, it turns out my middle name is now ‘Wayne’ and I can never change it back.
George: Shit. Bob Wayne? That sounds like a fucking game show host.
Bob: I don’t know what I’m going to tell my mother.
George: Is that a hatchet you’re hiding behind your back?
I’m glad my doctor and his nurses don’t read my blog. I think my diagnosis might be different and it’s possible they’d change my meds.