After three weeks of dealing with whatever this crud is that's attacking my body, I finally hauled my butt into Doc-in-a-box. Where said butt was severely chewed out by Hilda the residing MD. She did say that it was a pleasant change to have someone wait it out and not come in with the first sniffle. But perhaps I had waited just a little too long.
When I made some feeble excuse regarding schedules she reminded me that they were open from 8am to 10pm every. single. day.
I work a job and a half. I have two small children. I'm married to a police officer whom I've barely seen since September due to election campaigning. I've had obligations, scout meetings, and Things That Couldn't Wait. They could be open 24 hours a day and I still wouldn't have had a chance to come in until tonight. For the love of everything, woman, stop yelling at me!
As she's typing out my prescription for antibiotics for the raging sinus infection I now have, I proceed to cough up half of a lung.
Turning and glaring down at me she asks if I'd like something for the cough as well.
"Yes? Please and thank you?"
Let's just assume that I already feel like warmed over dog poo and please don't fuss at me anymore. And I promise to take my medication like a good girl.