I’ve lost my damn mind.
The worst part about it is that I have two witnesses. One a total stranger, and the other my 2 year old daughter. She’s now convinced mommy is unstable.
I have had a busy few weeks. Between my son’s summer school, being a new President of a club right at the time lots and lots of reports are due – and were due by the OUTGOING president for which i stepped up unknowingly – , my son’s dentist appointments, orthodontic appointments, trying to initiate an Occupational Therapy evaluation, and one very much needed Vegas vacation, my brain finally gave up the ghost this morning.
Interspersed in there is my husband’s ridiculous travel schedule.
So I had the elusive OT Eval scheduled for today. Re-scheduled three times, i should say. I have everything ready. I have the map, i have the address, i have the husband here and ready to take time off to stay with the toddler. I’m online shopping for our upcoming Disneyland trip – a surprise for the kids – and I notice a voice mail has been left on my phone which is sitting right beside me.
“Hello, Sarcasmica. This is so-and-so from the OT place. We had an appointment for you at 10 today and I just wanted to see if you were running late (at 10:45).”
Me: Oh HHHEEEEELLLLLLL NO!!
I check my calendar for the eight time today. “OT Eval 3pm”
I check the last email which was open-ended still trying to land on an acceptable date. Nothing confirming or checking in.
“Hello. This is Sarcasmica. I do NOT understand how you have me at 10 am when i have in my calendar the thing is at 3pm.”
“No, ma’am, we don’t do evals that late in the day.”
This conversation goes in a circle until i hear my last straw snap and then disintegrate.
I begin to speak in a pitch only my dog can hear now and i’m beginning to feel the tears well up and blind me. I rant and rave at this woman going on about how many times it’s had to be pushed back. Initially because of them, then once because of me. I go into a tirade about how i don’t even have an option to go somewhere else because every other ‘else ‘ has turned out to be the wrong type of therapy.
Now i’m full on blubbering.
My daughter is confused and worried. If she knew where to find prozac, i’m sure she would have made me Prozac chocolate milk to make the madness stop.
So while i’m railing at this poor woman who is over and over telling me she went back and checked our email thread to be certain SHE had it right, my daughter is in the background going , “You ok, mommy? What’s wrong, mommy? It’s ok, mommy.”
The lady finally “let me go” because i was obviously distraught and frustrated. After I finally broke down, she apologized for all the rescheduling – of which she made sure to note I was part of – and told me she would try to find a solution… the most likely one another WEEK before I can get a time.
I hang up. I hug my worried kid. I check all my ‘sent’ emails to her and see in black and white that we did, in fact, make the appt for 10am.
Well shIIIIIIIIIt. I hate being wrong.
I swallowed my pride with a side of crow and egg on my face, and emailed her my apologies and made sure to suggest HEAVILY that when they have a situation like mine, a reminder email, call, anything would be greatly helpful.
I wish all the doctor-related offices could manage to get on a universal robotic call schedule where they all do this. How often do you only need one office to care for your kid? Not bloody likely.
And if you do, you’re lucky. Hug your doctor. Give him a latte.
So now i need to go blow off some steam, make lunch for my worried and now convinced mommy is a lunatic toddler.
This message brought to you by National Hug A Lunatic day.
Here lies my brain.She served me well for 30 – ish years.
She will be missed by all.