A cruise ship's doctor - one of the few people I never want to meet professionally. Both RQS and I have done so on separate cruises, and it's no fun. In my case, I was lucky - I was prescribed an antibiotic to deal with my issue. In RQS's case, she hobbled around for weeks after someone on the ship fell and injured her ankle.
Recently, I visited my doctor's office to discuss the problems I've been having with my leg, causing any attempt to walk to be painful. I arrived before noon, and it took over 45 minutes for him to see me - he was backed up with other elderly patients. When he finally got to see me, I discussed the problem I was having and told him how painful it was for me to walk this past weekend. He instructed me to walk around, hit my legs with a medical hammer, tested my sensitivity to light touch in each leg, and examined my feet. As a result of all of this, he wants me to see a foot doctor and get some x-rays. (I have flat feet, and he wants to check out an issue I have with my spine. Too bad that he wouldn't understand the joke which references American slang:With these flat feet, I should have been a policeman walking a beat.)
While in his office, he asked me about the GLP-1 process. I was a little annoyed at him, as I said that the onus was on him to start the process of qualifying me for the Medicare "Bridge" program, not me. He has to contact the pharmacy, get the Medicare form, fill it in, and hope that my GLP-1 drugs can be subsidized by the program. Luckily for me, a couple of his staff were in the room, and they understood what had to be done. (You can imagine what was running in my mind. I had told him that HE had to take the next step, and he didn't - for reasons unknown to me. How dare he hector me about weight loss and GLP-1 drugs, when he doesn't want to do his share of the paperwork needed for affordable drugs.)
Once done with the doctor's office, I went home to rest. Soon, I'll start getting my luggage ready to go to RQS's place, staged for our upcoming trip.
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Later in the evening, I decided to do a light load of laundry - Mario's underwear. Given how rarely I present as a male these days, I don't know for how long the earliest items of dirty laundry have been sitting in my hamper. So it's going to be "fun" folding and storing what's been around for a while.
When I returned to my apartment, I found an email ostensibly sent from the daughter of a friend. It looked authentic until I saw the email address of the sender. I was lucky NOT to go any further into the process of opening invite. Instead, I sent an email to my friend's daughter, asking her if she sent anything to me. (I'm also glad that this woman is a distant enough acquaintance to know that the only communication I can expect from her is when her mom dies.) Hopefully, she can undo any damage a scammer has done to her computer.
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