This morning was bad enough that I proceeded directly to the clinic (I'm working noon-4:30 today rather than 8-noon).

Filled out the walk-in form.

They were uncertain as to when I could see someone.

I vomited into the waiting-room trash can. (This was not a deliberate act of protest.)

"Oh, Dr. P can see you now."

Thank you.

Dr. P is a fucking idiot. To the point where I'll be filing a complaint, because Adam and I find him to be dangerously incompetent. (Adam says he wouldn't have left the clinic after this-all; he'd've stayed there yelling till things were taken care of. I reminded him that everything hurts and I'm really tired and throwing up and I lack the energy and the capacity for protest right now.)

Dr P thought Trileptal was birth control.

He asked if I'd had a chest X-Ray, then answered his own question by looking at the chart and saying "Oh yeah, it was clean-" and didn't order a new chest X-Ray. In my opinion, y'know, girl has chest X-Ray a week ago, girl is not getting better and is here today because she was having terrible chest pain last night, maybe we should get a new chest X-Ray?

But the prize, oh yes... I said that my usual doctor hadn't prescribed an antibiotic because they reportedly interacted strangely with anti-seizure meds. He said "Huh. Yeah, I think they can raise the levels of anti-seizure meds in the systems, but you can skip a few doses of anti-seizure meds if that starts making you all drowsy."

...


...y'know, you can kill people like that.

I've left a message for my real doctor. After I talk to her, I'll be calling the complaint hotline that Adam just found.