I have been trapped in doctors' office and insurance beaurocracy hell for a few weeks.
Even the short version of the story is not really worth telling, since anyone who's ever had to deal with an insurance company knows exactly what kind of rage ensues when, after being transferred three times and being on hold for a cumulative twenty minutes, you're told that you have to call another department/doctor/office/supervisor, and no, they can't transfer you.
I am not an exceptionally emotive person (damn those Puritan ancestors, they just won't leave me frickin' alone). But this week-long series of phone calls left me so frustrated yesterday that I emitted a loud and deep growl/wail in the middle of my office as I slammed the phone down. It made my throat sore for three hours and made my co-workers look at me like I might pull out some kind of weapon and start waving it around.
Also, I can't get my prescription for iron pills filled because the pharmacy sells some other kind of iron pills. Their suggestion? Eat more broccoli and liver.
On top of all that, I'm apparently becoming one of those people who talks to strangers about their health issues.
I should just stop plucking the hairs that grow out of my moles and start wearing house slippers and talking to my cats, because it's all downhill from here, folks.