Nothing about knitting.

Sorry. It's ranting Wednesday, instead.

So I went to the Air Force Base this morning. (If you're a regluar reader, you're snickering right now and you just know this won't end well.) Massive security at the gate, getting in, to the point I was worried I was going to be tagged for a random search and miss my doctor's appointment. (Apparently when Middle-Eastern countries INVADE EACH OTHER, it increases our threat of terrorism, but when the US unjustly invades Middle-Eastern countries, we're perfectly safe. Yeah, RIGHT. Assholes.)

Anyway.

The last three times I talked to my doctor, it was for stress-related problems (shingles, migraines) and I knew I was probably in for it when I saw her today. What I didn't know is that my blood pressure is so high that not only did I wind up on BP medication, but the doc is sending me to an optometrist to make sure my eyes haven't sprung any leaks. Apparently stress and chronic pain are an ugly combination. (My blood pressure goes up when I'm in pain. My pain goes up when I'm stressed. So apparently I've got this unending pain/stress/high BP thing going on.)

The bottom line to all this is, more drugged knitting. At least until the pain and BP level off. Won't that be interesting? I'll make sure to document the madness.

So anyway. I'm stressed and getting sent to specialits and having lab work done, and I go to the pharmacy to pick up my perscriptions. This is the pharmacy that made me wait an hour and a half for some narcotics and I finally had to almost pry them away from the pharmacist's hands, back in January. I was out this time in half an hour and wondering what the catch was.

Then I got home, and figured it out: They sent me off with someone else's medication.

That's right. And it gets better. It's an old-fashioned antihistimine that can RAISE BLOOD PRESSURE. My doctor's worried about my eyes springing leaks, and the jackasses in the pharmacy give me a drug that could make it worse. Morons.

Tomorrow, I go see the Commanding Officer. We've moved into dangerous levels of stupidity; being slow is one thing. Handing out wrong medications is something else again.

Anyway. The funny bit. I swear there's a funny bit.

Going in and out of the base, I always pass O'Neil Avenue and Jackson Drive. I seriously doubt the streets are named after this O'Neil and this Jackson, but it still makes me giggle every time I drive past.

So it's not much of a funny bit... I'm annoyed, here. Work with me.

Oh, and I'm still knitting the stupid purple scarf.