Morning frustration left me feeling decidedly grumpy.
As human beings, we all make mistakes. Forget things, overlook something, become confused… it can happen to everyone now and then.
Admitting mistakes is something I have never had a problem with.
But I have always been organized. I carry a date book and when making appointments I repeat the date and time as I write it down.
The system is not infallible. I once made an appointment for a Thursday and by the time the week in question came around, I had somehow convinced myself that the appointment was for the Tuesday and didn’t re-check my date book, so we turned up two days early.
No harm done, it was just a wasted 10 minute trip.
But now I had established a reputation for being a muddled old fool.
We bundled four cats into the car this morning and I made a joke about it being the wrong day!
Yesterday, I had called to make appointments for another 6 cats and had even mentioned that we would be going in this morning, specifically confirmed that Penny needed a blood draw.
So to discover that we had no appointment was something of a surprise.
It really does not matter in any significant way.
But because I made the appointment, I know everyone assumes the silly old fool messed up again.
Which really pisses me off!
So I have told Grant that in future, he will be making the appointments.
What went wrong, I’ve no idea and it doesn’t matter. People get hectically busy and make mistakes. That is life. Maybe I am over-sensitive about the age thing?
These photographs were taken the day of another appointment. My PCP was reluctant to resume prescribing anti-depressants after I “declined further treatment” from the psychiatrist.
In the meantime I had made contact with a different, female PCP but her first appointment is not till May.
The upshot of this was that for a week I had to make do with a reduced dosage of the anti-depressant, which is also prescribed for pain.
It made no discernible difference and I am inclined to remain on the lower dose to see what happens. The drug is very expensive and I can think of better ways to spend money.
(Not that I mentioned this to my “outgoing” PCP.)
He told me I had made “good decisions” for my health. As if I had any option but to withdraw from oxycodone since he would not continue to prescribe it!
In May I will meet my new doctor, the third since I came back to New York in 2018. I am keenly aware that this may make me appear to be an awkward old cuss.
In future, I think I shall disclose as little about myself as possible. My mother lived to the age of 85, mostly without ever seeing a doctor. I am not there yet, but I don’t have a goalpost.
Furthermore, I saw this quote the other day somewhere on the internet. I can’t remember the man’s name, but it was from a psychiatrist.
His advice would have served me well when I was young and perhaps I shouldn’t care that people patronize me for being old.
Maybe I’ll just settle for being old and eccentric.