This was originally going to be a summary post; my day, the rain, exhaustion, heavy therapy stuff, mild groceries, trash bins, feeling to exhausted to take the humdifier upstairs so it'll have to wait until tomorrow and about running into Dr. Suck from The Clinic Of Dangerous Incompetence & Lies (the one who's moving away, prompting insurance to call me and try to get me to pick a doctor even as I tell them I'm headed out the door to an appointment and they should call me back). As I was logging in, however, on the television (I had a Mythbuster's craving) came one of those 'IF YOU HAVE BEEN INJURED BY' lawyer commercials. For Actos. Litigious side effect? BLADDER CANCER.
Now I no longer care that when she saw me in the elevator (she was in the therapy building) what she remarked on wasn't 'is your blood pressure ok' and 'how are you'. But 'Oh, you've lost more weight!' And 'You're still with that other doctor, right? She's doing good with you'.
Yes. Me no longer being on destructive-to-my-system medications IS SOMEHOW ALL ABOUT SOME OTHER DOCTOR SOMEHOW DISCIPLINING ME INTO
BETTER HEALTH less weight. And I sit down to comment on it here, and the commercial comes on about ACTOS, the drug that OTHER DOCTOR put me on (the one I also no longer trust; she who put me on a sulphur drug and then told me it wasn't a sulphur drug the names just sounded similar).
Face Punch Doctors. Face Punch Them VERY MUCH.
Look if you're white and that includes Jewish white, it is no longer enough for me to know the intimate details of your life for the past 5 years. It doesn't matter if you've sent me holiday or birthday cards or even gifts. I can appreciate all of that and STILL think from now on, you better as hell bring your A GAME when it comes to issues of white privilege - because I just do not have the energy anymore for passive aggressive, I'm-a-white-liberal-why-are-you-picking-on-me BULLSHIT.
If I bother to point out your pantslessness, consider that I'm still actually giving you the blasted time of day and hike up your damn drawers or put ass to curb. And don't let me see you mugging surprise about how you got there. My cellar is full of fine vintage white woman's tears.