My number came up.

For those of you who've been around a while, you know that the military has been playing musical doctors with me. And that I've been joking that statistically I was due to get assigned to some asshole doctor with a bad attitude. The statistics bit me in the ass Tuesday.

I went to the 437th Medical Group on the Charleston Air Force Base (yes, I'm naming names - mostly in the hope someone in charge over there will get bored, do a Google, and be horrified) Tuesday afternoon. My appointment was for one. I got to see a physician's assistant at three. Since October, I've been trying to change my chronic pain meds from narcotics and tranquilizers to an anti-depressant and an anti-inflammatory. It's been going all right, but the anti-inflammatory was making me sick and causing bruising, so Tuesday I bopped over for what I thought was a quick visit to get some refills and shift the anti-inflammatory to something new.

The PA refilled my blood pressure medication and told me to take Tylenol until I could get in to see another doctor in mid-January. When I said that was unacceptable, she perscribed Naproxen, another over-the-counter drug that I told her wouldn't work (and didn't when I took it that night). When I asked her what I was supposed to do for break-through pain, she said "Let's stick with the Naproxen." I pointed out the Naproxen was everyday pain control and I needed something for breakthrough, like when my two-year-old grabs my hand and throws herself on the floor. She kept repeating "Let's stick with the Naproxen" like a brain dead zombie, until I got mad and walked out.

After thinking about it overnight, I went back to the base yesterday, demanded to speak to someone in charge, and explained what was going on. They went back and the physician's assistant refused to budge on perscribing me medication. But the story had changed. Now she was concerned about my liver function, because I was bruising, and so I couldn't take any medication until I saw a new doctor and had tests run.

If my liver's falling out, why did she perscribe the Naproxen the day before?

So I went to the Commanding Officer. He sent me to the Flight Commander. I explained it all to her. She went and had a word with the physician's assistant and pressured the PA into writing me a perscription for narcotics that's supposed to get me through until January 9, when I see a new doctor - the idiot PA is still insisting I have liver problems. She gave me five day's worth of drugs, that I'm supposed to somehow get to January 9 with.

So my options are either be in debilitating pain for the holiday, take a drug I know is making me sick (Mobic - the anti-inflammatory that prompted the visit to try to get a new variety), or go back and bother the stupid bitch PA again, for more narcotics, and stay doped up for the holiday.

I think I'm going to just take the Mobic. And maybe write my congressman.

Near as I can figure, this stupid bitch arbitrarily decided I was a drug addict and tried to cut me off. She was determined to not give me any medication, from the moment she walked in the door. She never asked me why I was there, never asked me about the source of the chronic pain or what drugs I've taken in the past for it. Just barked orders at me about getting my blood pressure under control (it's high because I'm in pain - as long as I'm in pain, the BP is high; it's documented in my medical records; I told her that three times and she kept barking about how I need to exercise) and having my cholesterol checked. She never looked at my medical records. And then fell back to the liver problems as an excuse for her behavior, when I called her on it. It's not about my liver. It's about her blowing me off and then covering her ass.

It's been a while since I dealt with an asshole like this. No wonder I was nuts the last time it happened.

Now I'm gonna go try to knit something.