With that said, I will explain.
This man has, at least twice, attempted to kill my father. Not conciously, of course, but has done so. He prescribed a medication that had terrible side effects, which he did not warn my father about, nor did he appear to have any knowledge of them when my FATHER WAS NEARLY HOSPITALIZED WITH THOSE VERY SIDE EFFECTS. I researched all the medication he was taking and figured out what was wrong. ME! What the hell do I know about medicine, assclown? Do your fucking JOB!
The next time he left my father hanging after a fall where he BROKE HIS FUCKING BACK--told him "don't do anything until I call you back", and then LEFT FOR FRANCE. My father, being the man that he is, sat there waiting for almost 12 hours(!?!?!?!) before I threatened him into going to the hospital.
However, lately, my problems with this man have been of a more personal nature. First off, he refused to call me with any appointment changes when he knows perfectly well that my father is as good with information like that as Guy Pierce was in Memento. After we missed two appointments, he called me (wow! Look at the goddamn paperwork! It says in big letters CALL THE DAUGHTER) and said (and I QUOTE!) "If you aren't responsible or mature enough to manage your father's care, then you need to look into another option."
But today, Oh. TODAY.
He called, and informed me that my fathers cumadin (cumadin, for those of you not strapped with octogenarian parents with bum tickers, is a very strong blood thinner. If taken improperly, it can cause internal hemmorrage and death. If you or I were to take it, it could easily be fatal.) levels were far, far too high. FROM LAST WEEK. (my father gives blood three times a week at dialysis. how nice of you to look at the records they fax you, dick!) and that this week they were high as well. He asked me what dosage dad has been taking.
"The same dose he was before he had his lung drained." (dad has to stop cumadin before surgery, obviously.)
"Well, what dose is that??", he responds. (Look in the goddamn chart, asshole.)
"I assume its the 2.5mg once daily.", I said.
"I thought you were his CAREGIVER!"
Now, I don't administer dad's medication. I know what he takes, why, and what dose, mostly because I get all of his prescriptions for him, but also because we are in and out of the hospital so much it is handy information to have. But when it comes time to actually take the pill, dad does it himself. I told the doctor that.
"But these levels could be fatal! He could die and you could have done something to stop it! I need to talk to him. Where is he?"
I explained that he was at dialysis. He would be back later this evening.
"He's at dialysis and you aren't there with him? What if something happens!? You're his CAREGIVER!"
If something happens while dad is dialysizing, he's SURROUNDED BY NURSES. Yes, I am his caregiver, who also happens to be his maid, taxi service, personal chef, laundress, errand girl, mechanic, date planner....oh, and HAS A MORE THAN FULL TIME JOB ON TOP OF ALL THAT! Of course I'm sitting at dialysis with dad for 15 hours a week! It's not like I don't have anything else to do besides watch him stare at a television with headphones on for 5 hours while SURROUNDED BY TRAINED MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS. No, that would cut into my loafing about whilst eating bon-bons time. Son of a bitch.
Anyway, I informed my sisters of this development and we are breaking up with this doctor. Too bad, dad. (Dad loves this man. Couldn't tell me why, but he does. Hetero crush or something.)
Lots of caps this post. Sorry. Little peeved.
Anyway.
I am so, so tired of morons. Really. No, really. Every day, more morons. Simple, normal tasks--too complex. I'm so tired of having to explain myself to my tables at work, repeat the same fucking answers to the same retardo questions over and over again.....it's getting old.
My mother purchased a motorhome in which she will now permanently reside. She's mobile, people! (She is currently living in a reformed meth-lab with a family of raccoons. They were there first.) She is, however, talking of moving to ARIZONA. Oh, sweet, merciful christ.....Please. She was talking about moving here, which would cause me to implode. seriously.
