Doctors and IT

My brain is in weird mode.  The life-changing decision of next week has pretty much been made, yet not yet executed (how's that for telling you nothing?), I should now be ready to write the book I am supposed to be writing, yet somehow I can't gain the focus to do it, and I saw a doctor who really freaked me out.  I guess I'll tell you about the doctor bit.  I must first interrupt myself and say that I am up an hour before I normally get up, and now my daughter is babbling over the baby monitor- a half hour before she normally gets up.  What the fuck?  Will I never have a time of day I can write?  I think that's why I'm not writing-- because I CAN'T.  If I try to write at any point when Romy is supposed to be sleeping, she wakes up!  Maybe my pen is too loud.  I swear, when I am out of the house, she sleeps a good two hour nap.  When I'm home: 45 minutes.  And, no, I don't want to leave the house to write.  Because that wastes more time.  It's like leaving the house to exercise.  Who the hell has time for that extra half hour needed to get somewhere and back?  Man, I am not in a good mood.  So about this doctor: he was fine, although I do have to say there were some moments where I wondered if he was being inappropriate.  Like, if he was listening to my stomach and my esophagus, did he have to touch part of my boob?  Not in a pervy way, but it still seemed odd.  He was odd all around.  And we couldn't understand each other half the time, which I don't think is a very good doctor/patient relationship.  The end result of the deal was that apparently I have reflux.  So, all of this time I have been gagging on my food or choking in the middle of the night was not because they screwed up during my appendix surgery (which is where my mind went), but because I have too much acid.  Fine.  The doctor gave me some meds, over the counter if I wanted (although it turned out to be cheaper using prescription).  But then he went completely insane and said I was to have an ESP or something (that's not what it's called, but I can't be bothered to stand up and look for the order), which is a) having an iv in my arm to knock me out and then b) going into my esophagus with a camera just to see if it's not something else.  At first I was like, okay...  I mean, of course I cried because of my needle phobia.  But I scheduled it for next week.  Then, after thinking about it for a while, I was like, wait, I haven't even tried the meds for reflux and I have to be put to sleep by this guy?  That's totally invasive, even if there isn't much of a risk (although, being put under always has a risk, and being put under around this guy?  Possibly risky, too).  I decided to cancel.  When it's time, I will make a follow-up appointment with a new doctor.  If SHE (yeah, that's the better route for me) says I must get that ESP thing, then so be it.  But it felt way too extreme right out of the gate.

I am feeling writer rusty.  That's not good.  Oh, and the email bullshit with my publisher still hasn't been fixed, so I feel really special.  Like, you can't imagine how special I feel.  And if the IT people at my publisher are anything like the one I used to work with at my old job, I'm in trouble.  I really hope they aren't like that.  Once, at work, I was looking at shoes online, and the IT person shut me down.  They never give warnings or anything (not that it's any of their business what every teacher is doing at every moment, although apparently it is), just moved my mouse arrow and closed stuff.  Very creepy.  So one day when the guy did this, after many times of other dickish interactions, I opened my browser back up and typed "asshole" into it.  I've always been proud of that moment.  That guy recently got fired, by the way.