The roofers are here. Still coughing up everything on the planet ever.

There have been people on my roof, hitting things with hammers, since seven thirty (SEVEN THIRTY!!!) this morning, and generally being giant nuisances.

True, the house needed a new roof, but on the other hand, I'm sick, damn it.

Went to bed around eleven, got out of bed at one am because I was continuously coughing and Captain needs sleep so he can drive to work and not die. Just before his alarm went off at four, I crawled back into bed, so miserable I was crying.

I. Am. Miserable.

I know it's just a chest cold. Millions of people get chest colds all the time. But it hurts and I can't sleep and I can't breathe, insert a billion other whiny complaints here.

One good thing from last night's lack of sleep, I'm caught up to Monday on the Exchange finally. So now I just have this week's gifts to get through.

On the way home from the doctor's appointment today, I am so going to make Captain stop somewhere and get me some NyQuil. And then I'm planning to pass out, and he'll just have to make my excuses for tonight's game. Unless a miracle happens and I suddenly feel slightly more human after my morning pills, shower and the first Diet Dr Pepper (but not Dr Pepper Ten, because that is NOT for women) of the day.

Also, is it wrong that I wish every single roofer in my yard/on the house were to fall into a large pit right now?

The roofers are here. Still coughing up everything on the planet ever.

There have been people on my roof, hitting things with hammers, since seven thirty (SEVEN THIRTY!!!) this morning, and generally being giant nuisances.

True, the house needed a new roof, but on the other hand, I'm sick, damn it.

Went to bed around eleven, got out of bed at one am because I was continuously coughing and Captain needs sleep so he can drive to work and not die. Just before his alarm went off at four, I crawled back into bed, so miserable I was crying.

I. Am. Miserable.

I know it's just a chest cold. Millions of people get chest colds all the time. But it hurts and I can't sleep and I can't breathe, insert a billion other whiny complaints here.

One good thing from last night's lack of sleep, I'm caught up to Monday on the Exchange finally. So now I just have this week's gifts to get through.

On the way home from the doctor's appointment today, I am so going to make Captain stop somewhere and get me some NyQuil. And then I'm planning to pass out, and he'll just have to make my excuses for tonight's game. Unless a miracle happens and I suddenly feel slightly more human after my morning pills, shower and the first Diet Dr Pepper (but not Dr Pepper Ten, because that is NOT for women) of the day.

Also, is it wrong that I wish every single roofer in my yard/on the house were to fall into a large pit right now?

I hate Army hospitals.

I'm home from the hospital and in a fabulous mood. Ha.

First, they've switched my PCM, without notifying me, AGAIN.

New!Doc is a douche canoe.

He tells me that my last glucose bloodwork shows that I'm not anywhere close to being under control, and I point out that bloodwork is now 18 months old AT LEAST. He asks how long I've been prescribed my current meds. I'm honest and tell him it's been awhile but I've only been actively taking them daily since March. He very snidely tells me that the medicine they prescribe only works if I take it.

I very politely do not tell him to shove it.

I'm taking the meds now, suck it up and move on, dude.

Then came the exercise discussion. "Do you exercise?" "No." "Why not?" "Because I don't want to?" Then there was a staring contest, which I'm pretty sure I would have won but I started coughing and turned away to cough into my kleenex to keep my germs off of other people because I'm polite like that. When I looked back he was all smirky so I got all smirky and then Captain (who came in with me because I'm currently loopy on lack of sleep/Sudafed/death cold cooties) got slightly smirky (he's not as good at it).

So then New!Doc got judgmental on my crazy!pills scripts, which I told him my Crazy!Doc was managing just fine, thanks. And he got judgmental on the little emergency IBS pills I've been renewing prescriptions for since 2007's colonoscopy of doom, all "Do those actually work? Because no one I've ever talked to says they work."

I very politely did not tell him to shove it, again.

He tried to get us to leave and I had to remind him that I have a chest cold, and since I have a history of reactive airway disorder, breathing issues and bronchitis perhaps it might be useful if he, oh, I don't know, actually listened to my breathing?

So that resulted in two more prescriptions (bringing the count up to ten for this visit, I believe).

AND THEN, he tried to get us to leave again, and I pointed out that since my last glucose blood work was over a year old, perhaps I should have another one? So he had to schedule that for tomorrow, along with some other tests that will probably result in me having to tinkle into an orange thermos for 24 hours - AGAIN - because that's how these things always seem to work out.

On the plus side, if the orange thermos is involved this time, Captain will have to be the one to ferry it across town and on to base instead of me.

Also, I got a nice drawstring grocery back to cart my loot (lots of meds) home.

I hate Army hospitals.

I'm home from the hospital and in a fabulous mood. Ha.

First, they've switched my PCM, without notifying me, AGAIN.

New!Doc is a douche canoe.

He tells me that my last glucose bloodwork shows that I'm not anywhere close to being under control, and I point out that bloodwork is now 18 months old AT LEAST. He asks how long I've been prescribed my current meds. I'm honest and tell him it's been awhile but I've only been actively taking them daily since March. He very snidely tells me that the medicine they prescribe only works if I take it.

I very politely do not tell him to shove it.

I'm taking the meds now, suck it up and move on, dude.

Then came the exercise discussion. "Do you exercise?" "No." "Why not?" "Because I don't want to?" Then there was a staring contest, which I'm pretty sure I would have won but I started coughing and turned away to cough into my kleenex to keep my germs off of other people because I'm polite like that. When I looked back he was all smirky so I got all smirky and then Captain (who came in with me because I'm currently loopy on lack of sleep/Sudafed/death cold cooties) got slightly smirky (he's not as good at it).

So then New!Doc got judgmental on my crazy!pills scripts, which I told him my Crazy!Doc was managing just fine, thanks. And he got judgmental on the little emergency IBS pills I've been renewing prescriptions for since 2007's colonoscopy of doom, all "Do those actually work? Because no one I've ever talked to says they work."

I very politely did not tell him to shove it, again.

He tried to get us to leave and I had to remind him that I have a chest cold, and since I have a history of reactive airway disorder, breathing issues and bronchitis perhaps it might be useful if he, oh, I don't know, actually listened to my breathing?

So that resulted in two more prescriptions (bringing the count up to ten for this visit, I believe).

AND THEN, he tried to get us to leave again, and I pointed out that since my last glucose blood work was over a year old, perhaps I should have another one? So he had to schedule that for tomorrow, along with some other tests that will probably result in me having to tinkle into an orange thermos for 24 hours - AGAIN - because that's how these things always seem to work out.

On the plus side, if the orange thermos is involved this time, Captain will have to be the one to ferry it across town and on to base instead of me.

Also, I got a nice drawstring grocery back to cart my loot (lots of meds) home.