Bad Space & Rozerem

In exam room I visited today, the disposable sanitary paper lining the table was provided by Rozerem. I read it over and over and over until it had been burned into my brain. It was a regular old set-up, with the usual assortment of doctors and nurses, but this trip was just one time too many that I had been in like rooms, with other doctors over the last 7 years. OVER IT. When your job is dealing with a chronic disease, sometimes, it can take way too much from you, more than you have even, sometimes. Those are the times when the tears come while you wait for the doctor, before the P.A. even comes in sometimes. Very unprofessional appearance, tears dripping down your face, even with a set iron jaw. When you have spent the majority of the day trying to figure out what meds you are low on, what test results are due when, and what could possibly make you feel better, you may be in a "bad space" as they are often called. My bad space apparently consists of both physical and emotional pain, thanks to the joys of being me. And, though this may be bit crass, gastrointestinal issues paired with infections of the genital area are the makings for one hell of a "bad space". But when the phrases "liquid fire", "the abscess has been expressed", and "projectile vomiting" all find their way into one conversation I give up. At least for a little while. Signed, Debbie Downer's second cousin by marriage twice removed