9-May-2006

I can now cross out all the items on my To Do list of last week, except the Paxil prescription.  The conversation with my doctor went a little something like this:

Doctor:  Now I'm no doctor--

Me:  (panicking) WHAT??

Doctor:  What I meant to say is, I'm not a psychiatrist.  But I think what we're looking at is a case of OCD, combined with Hypochondriasis. 

Me:  Which means?

Doctor:  You need therapy.

Me:  And AZT?

Doctor:  For the last time, you don't have AIDS. 

Me:  Whatever...  Are you sure the lab didn't spell my last name wrong?  It says on their website that the specimen requirements--

Doctor:  Lose my number.

Typical man...  But seriously, it was nice for someone to acknowledge that what I've been going through is not normal.  If you're one of my closest friends, or if you're my mom, you've been listening to a lot of whacky shit from me.  And I know it's whacky.  I can tell that at some points, and at others, it's so ridiculously real.  It's really frightening when your memory starts playing tricks on you - combine memory with imagination and you've got one clusterfuck of a nightmare.  Anyway, I'll can the melodrama for now and go back to what's really important - labeling gift bags!