New Doctor TOTALLY doesn't get me.

I have been a little out of sorts lately. So out of sorts, that the boy walked up to me last night, handed me a Xanax and told me to stop screaming at the dogs. Seriously. They were pissing me the fuck off by JUST BEING DOGS.

Out of sorts.

I went to the doctor yesterday because sometimes the crazy isn't at an acceptable level anymore. Sometimes it reaches PANIC! and medical professionals need to intervene. They are running a lot of blood work because the crazy is actually being caused by physical symptoms, not mental. I know, I know, who expected that one? Not me, that is for sure. I was expecting a padded room...the doctor told me that total lack of sleep, dizziness, and hives (accompanied by irrational bouts of scratching my skin off) are probably my thyroid or the 400 types of anemia I have had forever. And never treated. Which, just, I don't know. She is the first doctor to every say, you are a little anemic in three forms, which is a nutrition lesson I don't care to share for right now, but the only one I don't have is sickle cell. Because, duh. So, you know google if you're interested.

She also confirmed what I already knew and "The Crazy" is, in fact, not a medical term or condition. Fuck. This is what happens when you start seeing new doctors...they have to be all, taking your boyfriend's Xanax is not OK and if you can't stop scratching wear oven mitts. It's like I'm two.

The moral of the story is fasting, blood tests, blah blah blah. But? But! If I start sleeping, I may not be so crazy. I would be totally OK with that.

On a totally unrelated note, my sister sent me an email that was a veiled apology and mostly just a desperate plea for me to come to her wedding. It was the best apology I think I will ever get from her, though, and I guess that is good enough for me. So, our problems are resolved? Or at least they are behind us for the sake of her wedding. Even though I still feel weird and icky about the whole thing, I know when to stand my ground, and this is not that time. So, bigger person and all that shit.

Is it bad that I want to be petty and whiny and stomp my feet on the ground? The old doctor would have totally gotten this and laughed when I called it The Crazy. I miss her.