Everything is Gonna Be Alright....

So, I've been having some feelings over the last few days. Some feelings that aren't so nice. Some feelings that indicate to me that perhaps the medication that I've relied on for the last few years isn't doing it's job any more.

I've accepted long ago that I'm a crazy person. I'm cool with that. I can be a crazy -- but medicated -- person. The operative word here is medicated and of course, when I say medicated, I assume you think I mean a medicated person who's medication is properly functioning.

So, I did the grown-up thing to do. It was tricky, because sometimes I feel so far from grown-up that it's not funny. Not to mention the fact that I have trouble doing anything medical without my trusty sidekick, SuperNan.

I went to the Campus Medical clinic today. It was full of cranky people who don't speak the same language as I do and in fact, they even decided that it would be best to greet me in this language that I don't speak, and better yet, they decided to try and converse with me in this language that I don't speak.

Talk about the height of rudeness.

On top of that, all the magazines in the waiting room were also in this language that I don't speak and subsequently, this language that I don't read.

How frustrating is that?

So I waited, and surprisingly enough, I didn't have to wait very long. Which is a good thing, considering that I was reading the magazines by their pictures. And pictures of celebrities with captions in foreign languages is not a fun way to pass time.

I got into the office and waited. Beside one of those wierd hospital beds that bends and twists in wierd ways and a giant box of disposable speculums.

Yes.

Me, my insanity, and a giant case of disposable, pre lubricated speculums. Waiting.

They were the small size, in case you were wondering.

It's moments like these that make me think that maybe God has a sense of humor. Like when you really study the platypus, you start to think. There has to be rhyme and reason to it all, because if God is not behind all this madness -- the madness the of platypus and the madness of me -- then really, there is nothing else.

So myself, my nerves, and my box of speculums were sitting there and I thought, how handy is that? If I feel the need to vomit when this doctor waltzes into the room, I have a handy receptacle in which to yak. And how nice it would be to show my disdain for those devices than to throw up on a whole case full of them? It would be lovely.

Unfortunately, (Or perhaps fortunately, depending on who you are) I'm one of those people who can never throw up. So I didn't get to exact my revenge.

At any rate, I'm on the way to be back to feeling like my chipper self again.

Because what would this world be without me being my chipper self?

Toonses