What a Difference Ade Makes

(You won't get that title reference if you're not a "SYTYCD" fan. Don't feel bad.)

So the first week of January has come and gone. As has one of the worst weeks of winter weather (alliteration! yippee!) I've seen in years. As has my first week of my new job.

I'm sick of January, sick of winter, sick of my kids and husband being stuck at home (indoors) for going on almost a month, sick of not wanting to go anywhere or being able to go anywhere because it's too fucking cold and icy and miserable, and sick of driving in this shit. I'm not a speed demon, but I prefer to drive considerably faster than 35 mph on the interstate, thanks.

I think I will like the new job, however. So far, so good. I'm still new and the work is not routine and I'm incredibly freaked out about screwing something up and not realizing it, and I don't think any of my co-workers particularly like me much--but it's only been a week. There was really only one day I wanted to cry, and that was Day 2, and after I went to the gym and ran for 40 minutes, I felt better, and I went in the next day and suddenly things started to make a little more sense.

As is usually the case when there's any kind of change in the routine, I haven't yet figured out quite how to use my time this year. I don't really have much time or access to the internet at work, so I'm finding my presence on certain bulletin boards and social networks and even email is becoming sketchy at best. I want to maintain this blog, though, I just need to figure out when to do it.

I also want to get my sewing site up and running. The trouble is my sewing area is in possibly the coldest spot in our house, and with temps running around -20c lately, sitting in a drafty corner of our family room is not really anything I'm interested in.

The "ARCTIC BLAST!" (as the weather people have grown fond of calling it) is scheduled to end early this week, however--so hopefully, I will find myself having a little more time (my commute will be faster when I can drive the speed limit and not crawl through ice and accidents), a little more energy (I haven't been to the gym as often as I'd like this week because IT'S FUCKING COLD), and a little more insight into how to spend my minutes (as opposed to sitting on the sofa, completely brain dead after a day on a job I don't know how to do yet). Hell, it's supposed to be in the 40s come Wednesday--if that happens, I might just flip my lid and run outside topless. Or not.

I'm also incredibly pissed at Bob's doctor right now. He had a follow-up scheduled the last week of December--when I had vacation time to burn at my old job and he wasn't in school--and the SOB canceled two days before the appointment. And rescheduled for next Wednesday, at the precise time Bob's db father was supposed to pick him up at school. So I called to try to reschedule and no can do, the asshole is booked solid at both offices for like, the next 6 years. And he won't phone in any more refills on Bob's medications until he sees him. WTF? So after I expressed my feelings on the unfairness of it all, the good doctor agreed to a "phone follow-up." Why that wasn't made possible in the first place I have no idea. In the interim, they left a partial refill for one of Bob's prescriptions at the local office and I had Ben and the boys pick it up yesterday.

I looked at it today, and it's the wrong script. Clarification--it's the right medication, but the wrong dose. Bob takes 10mg in the morning, 10mg four hours later, and 5mg four hours after that--total 15mg per day. This dumbshit wrote him for 15mg tablets twice a day. Nevermind this is a stimulant and 30mg/day would send Bob through the ceiling, this is also a class 2 drug and pharmacies will only fill it as written, no substitutions, no nothing. And he's out of it as of...Monday morning, when he goes back to school after 3 weeks off. Ugh. So I figure I'll go ahead and fill it, split the tabs in half, and see how he does on 7.5mg.

Except the pharmacist tells me there isn't even a 15mg dose MADE in this medication.

Shit. Fuck. Screw.

This is at least the third and possibly the fourth time Dr. Dumbass has fucked up one of Bob's prescriptions. And it's never the wrong medication, it's always the wrong DOSE. Which is almost worse, because I don't usually notice until after I fill the shit and start giving it to him and notice the pills look different. At one point, had I not figured it out, I would have cut Bob's dose of one of his key medications in half. We're not talking about aspirin here, where half the regular dose might just be a little unpleasant. This is serious pharmaceutical shit. And for the prescribing physician to be so careless and then cavalier about his carelessness--really pisses me off.

So I think Monday I'm going to try to talk to the doc in charge and kindly explain to him that I work for attorneys so I know how unpleasant a malpractice suit could get, and instead of all that, I'd prefer to just move my son's care to one of the other less assholish doctors in the practice. Considering how most of them react when they hear they're dealing with a lawyer or someone related to a lawyer or someone who has a lawyer for a neighbor, I have a feeling they will comply.

This has also been the first week of our new "Living Poor" situation. So far, so good. I haven't spent any money this week other than $4 on a latte at FiveBucks because I needed a new cup, and $3 to the firm charity committee in exchange for wearing jeans to work yesterday (which is bs, but I didn't want to think about clothes yesterday morning). I also sprung $21 for pizza for our dinner last night because I was feeling generous. But we've been doing really well about using cash for groceries and eating out and as a result, have been eating out less and using what we have in the pantry more. And so far I don't feel horribly deprived. I'm sure that will change when I go back to Target and start getting hit with spring fever and seeing all the cute tchotchkes in bright pastels they have in every aisle, but I will try not to let it get to me and remember stuff can't make me happy.

Yeah. Right. :P