Showing posts with label Scaring Receptionists Shiteless. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scaring Receptionists Shiteless. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Z is for The End! Woo HOO!


I felt happy this morning. Energetic even. I felt good from the get-go, having coffee on the back deck with my hubby, morning sunshine covering us with a happiness blanket.

I think it's the weather. We've finally got some spring going on here in northern Alberta and it's been driving me crazy, listening to everyone else in the world talking about putting in their tomato plants and complaining about the heat. There's still ice on Cold Lake. Our grass isn't green. It snowed on the weekend. Bah... can you blame me for being grumpy?

But this morning ... this glorious morning ... I've already made the bed, hung laundry on the clothesline, cleaned out the kitty truffles, emptied the dishwasher and talked to my friend on the phone. I'm even writing a blog post, as we speak, and it's barely eleven o'clock.

Is there anything better than the smell of laundry hung on the line? Mmmmm ... I took a picture of it, but I wish this was a scratch 'n sniff smell-a-blog, so you could appreciate it.


Oh! I also took a picture of our new patio set. We bought it last week, in a snowstorm (no kidding) and Dave finally got around to putting it together last night. Coincidentally, for the first time since we moved to Cold Lake (which is famous for its aurora borealis), we finally saw the northern lights. We put on our snuggliest jackets and sat out on our new patio furniture and watched the sky catch brilliant fire. It was pure magic. It's one thing to see a photo, but it's quite another to watch the lights flicker and shine, grow, stretch and shimmer against a backdrop of stars and black.

There's another reason I'm showing you our chairs. See how they don't have four legs? It's what gives them bounce; it's what makes them comfortable – but quite honestly I'm scared shiteless that my immense girth is going to break them some day. What's worse is our stupid little dog likes to sit UNDER my chair. I dunno, I think she has a death wish. One of these days she's gonna be a pancake and I'll be all up in her squished face saying, "I told you so, you dumb squished dog!" She can't help it. She's got a brain the size of a pea. One of these days it's gonna be a mushy pea if she doesn't watch out.


So glad this is the last post in the A to Z Challenge. I've had days where I just didn't care – it's what happens when you have depression. There are days when you don't care about anything. I've been taking anti-depressants for some time, and probably will for the rest of my life. It's OK – and I'm OK. They work. I'm good, so don't worry. Just lately, though, in the last few months, I have noticed that they're not working as well as they used to, and that's normal. I need to talk to the doctor about upping the dose.

I hate going to see the doctor about depression. It's like you have to put on a show, y'know? They want to talk about what's going on and if you're too matter-of-fact you won't get the help you need, so you have to be a little theatrical. Tears help. Personally I like to pretend I'm Debra Winger in Terms of Endearment and I manage to squeeze out a few. But meh, what a hassle it is. I'd almost rather go get a Pap smear than talk about my depression with a doctor. Ultimately the best thing to do is talk about it while I'm getting a Pap smear. That way you're distracting yourself from the fact there's a stranger with a speculum up your woo-hoo.

Yesterday I finally summed up my courage and popped into the doctor's office to get an appointment.

"The first date we have available is June Whatever," said the receptionist. (I forget the date but it was mid-June.)

"OK," I said, because I don't have a choice.

"Can I ask what it's regarding?" she asked.

"It's for depression," I replied, then realized this was my opportunity to kick things up a notch. "I've been feeling pretty down lately. Really down." I swallowed, like I was about to cry, and lowered my eyes in what I hoped was a sad velvet clown painting face. "I need a stronger anti-depressant."

The receptionist suddenly got all panicked and started rifling though her computer, mumbling something about cancellations.

I interrupted. "It might be a good idea if you mention this to the doctor," I said. "You know. In case."

I let "in case" hang in the air. She looked up from the computer and her eyes were the size of birthday balloons.

"Don't worry," I said hastily. "I'm not gonna jump off a bridge or anything."

She laughed, sort of, and looked slightly relieved.

Until I said, "I'm going to have to find some other way to do myself in because there just aren't any bridges in Cold Lake."

I know. I'm baaaaaad.

Hey, I hope you had a good time with A to Z. Thanks to everyone who organized it, and thanks to everyone who dropped by to say hello. I didn't get around to as many people as I wanted, but I'm hoping to continue to use the list and visit as many blogs as I can. You know. If I'm not scouting out local bridges ...