My Doctor is a Tool (not to be confused with my vet, Dr. Toole)

Aside from the fact that she thinks Mr. Crabby beats me (I went in with two falling-down-the-stairs-type injuries recently), my new doctor has proven herself to be a complete knob.

Example #1: “Are you SURE you slipped in the tub?” It’s her job to ask, I suppose, but Mr. Crabby was very offended.

Example #2: After I described my migraine medication to her, she told me I was wrong. “There’s no codeine in that.” I’ve been taking those pills for twenty-some years, and she’s been out of med school for ten minutes. “Oh, you are absolutely correct,” she says, after consulting the Neophyte Doctor’s Big Book of Drugs.

Example #3: She is terrified of needles.

Example #4: During our appointment, she had the wrong chart in front of her. “That’s not my name,” I said, pointing to the manilla folder. She blanched, and glanced down at all the notes she’d written in somebody else’s chart.

Oh my. I’ve been taking migraine pills for twenty-some years. No wonder I’m Crabby. Where does the time go?