Today, I have decided that I no longer want to play nice. I am no longer going to be a goody-two-shoes (which is what someone called me yesterday) because I feel like I’m being taking advantage of. This is a new thing for me…standing up for myself instead of being disgruntled and keeping anger inside.
I think I’m liking the “New Me”.
So today, when I went to Walmart and was being held hostage inside the store (this is what happens to customers who are stuck inside the store waiting desperately for the stupid store manager to come open the doors at 10:00 to let you into the mall). I decided to do something about it. I didn’t want to wait.
Three times I heard an announcement requesting the manager to open the large, glass sliding doors. I saw a smaller door with a lock on it and thought, “Gee whiz, I can make my escape now if I just go over there and click it open”. Dare I do it? There were about 10 people waiting inside the store and about 7 people waiting outside and I REALLY wanted OUT. So I walked up to the door, clicked it, turned around to all the people behind me and said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting out of here”. I overhead someone saying, “I’m not staying here either”. Suddenly there was a stampede of people running through the door right behind me.
Take that WALMART.
My bad! I like it.
I went to Toys R Us, got my gift card for Frack’s birthday party on Sunday, and made my way back through Walmart to get back to my car. At this point I was wondering if I would be recognized by the camaras and be banned for life upon entering any Walmart store for opening their door without being an employee there. Too bad, I thought. Anyone stops me, I’ll give them an earful about wasting a terminally ill person’s time.
Didn’t get caught. I was very proud of myself. And I’m sure the other Walmart hostages were glad to get about their business too.
Then when I got home, I decided to phone the guy sent from Rona to fix up my leaky bathroom. Told him he needed to come back to the house and do some touch ups on the work he did. Decided to wait to tell him he was going to have to wash out the bathtub too before I sign the release form. It’s got a white film around the tub (from the grout?). If I have to call my house-keeper to come to the house and clean it up, it’s going to cost him 1 hour of her pay because I’m not going to do it and bust my back. And my kids and husband shouldn’t have to clean up his mess either. So there.
I must be on a roll. Yesterday I fired my heart doctor.
I complained to the head of the cardiology unit (who used to be my heart doctor before they promoted him to the position of top dog). On Thursday night, while scouring the internet for a new heart doctor, I discovered my old heart doctor became head cheese because his boss was involved in that “Orange” helicopter money scandal thing. Nice. Decided I was going to give him an earful about how my new heart doctor is no where to be found when you need him. Cathy told me to be nice or I’d never have a heart doctor again.
I started by telling him that he needed to be my doctor again because the new one I got was never around. Whenever you call, you have to wait a minimum of 5 days for him to respond….and by that time, I might be dead. Once he called me back 2 or 3 weeks later and I forgot why I called him. So now, whenever I have a heart problem, I get my oncology nurse to phone him; but she doesn’t like phoning him either for the same reason. I think he goes to a lot of conferences or something to learn more about people like me with heart problems due to chemotherapy.
In April my pharmacist thought it was weird that I was put on 2 heart medications and he phoned my heart doctor to question the logic of that prescription (this took several days). When he finally got a response, the pharmacist couldn’t fill out the prescription because it didn’t have my name on it. And the big kicker, after more phone calls and faxes, Shoppers Drug Mart finally got the prescription with my name on it but they couldn’t fill it out because the doctor didn’t sign it. I think that whole arduous ordeal took about 4-5 weeks.
By June, I had my prescription and when I took both drugs, I had
1. irregular heartbeats
2. a strange cough
4. a strange metallic taste in my mouth
5. a loss of appetite
6. a trip to the local E.R. because I had severe chest pains and I thought I was having a heart attack.
And whilst sitting in the E.R., the doctor told me NEVER, EVER to come back to this hospital with a heart problem because they didn’t know what to do with me and THEY COULDN’T FIND MY DOCTOR TO ASK HIM. “Go downtown next time”
And then, after I get the boot, I found out that I had an appointment two weeks later with a replacement heart doctor because mine was gone until OCTOBER.
I could be dead by then.
So, I took matters into my own hands and stopped both the meds even though it said, “Don’t stop taking this medications without telling your doctor”. Well, I can’t find my doctor…he’s in Boston. I told his replacement, but he was rather useless because he didn’t want to advise me about anything without the other guys permission.
Needless to say, my old doctor is willing to take me back. I’m happy.
One more thing….
Someone left a note on my windshield last week informing me that I was NOT HANDICAPPED and SHOULD PAY FOR PARKING. Getting a bit tired of people keying my car too. So now I am leaving my own note in my car beside my handicapped parking permit.
This car belongs to ayoung ￼
TERMINALLY ILL BREAST CANCER PATIENT
with METAL RODS in her BACK due to a FRACTURED SPINE and CANCEROUS TUMOURS on eight bones in her vertebrae. Try driving backwards in this condition when you can’t twist your back. Even getting out of a car hurts. Carrying groceries? That will give me pain for at least 3 days if I try. Because of numerous rounds of CHEMOTHERAPY and RADIATION treatments, I also have suffered from HEART FAILURE and have even had a TIA / STROKE because of medication I’ve been on. You don’t have to be in a wheelchair or limping to be considered handicapped. So stop being angry because I’ve got a Handicapped Parking Permit and Thank God you don’t need one. I put on a brave face, but truthfully, I’m in pain every day of my life and I’d trade spots with you any day.