{{{{Amyth}}}} I'm sorry to hear about your SiL's father. What a rough time for her. That's pretty rough for your brother, too. I hope he is well taken care of during his anxiety attacks, and the treatments.

much ~ma for Perkins. Thankfully there's never an either/or for ~ma dispersal, there's plenty to go round.

So now the nurse said the doctor said she can't prescribe anything else till she gets the bloodwork back. To which I said, no I haven't been fasting, because all I can do is fucking obsess how I'm not sleeping. But nicer. Then I told her, I've been awake for 20 hours, I just want to take something I KNOW will put me to sleep in 20 minutes, and then I can wake up IN THE MORNING, and clean my house and make dinner for my husband.

Then I started crying, and the nurse is really sympatheic, says she doesn't know why the doctor isn't prescribing this, and she'll talk to the doc again after she's done with her patient.

I hate this. This is cruel. There's nothing the bloodwork will tell you, honey; I have chronic fucking insomnia, and I need a two week script to turn my sleep schedule around. It's not that fucking hard, and docs prescribe this shit to people for airplane flights, what's the BFD?

Good grief, Erin. What the fuck, seriously?

ETA: And why did I chuck that expired Ambien? DAMMIT.

{{{{amyth and family}}}}, {{{{Erin}}}}. And ~ma to Perkins again.

Ah, it's a sweet thought, doll. No worries.

I don't know. I don't understand the rationale. I called another place, and they accept walk-in's at 2, so I'mma think I'll go there, unless she changes her mind before then. But I think, perhaps, I don't want her for my GP. Feels like I'd try to get a Z-PAk and she'd want to prescribe a nice bowl of chicken soup...and some bloodwork.

Sleep relief~ma, Erin.

But I think, perhaps, I don't want her for my GP.

I support this notion.

I'm so glad that the one piece of furniture we have set up is the bed. I don't expect to be able to move off it in the foreseeable future. Exhaustified. Thanks for the moving~ma - it went well (despite the movers trying to charge us almost double what they'd quoted, because there were a few more boxes than they expected - we settled at one-third more, for a quiet life). It's going to be weeks before we're unpacked, because the builders haven't finished working on half the rooms, which means living out of boxes for some time. My OCD is not going to like this, and I'm going to refuse to play with it. It's all good, 'cause there's internet, and a stairlift, and the hamster survived the car journey, and I have a truly wonderful Girl (she wants my study to be sorted out imminently so she's gone to IKEA to get me a desk). And most of all, there's a house that's all ours. Yay!

Erin, this sounds so frustrating. Here's wishing that the doctor will listen to the nurse. Changing your GP does not sound like a bad idea.

Procedure~ma, Perkins. I hope it all goes well.

Shir, I'm feeling a bit too I've-just-had-a-tree-fall-on-me to partake in the faith discussion, but I agree with what people have said above. I didn't read anything other than sharing experiences into either your original post or the responses, and I love how open an environment this board is for sharing such things.

Bloody fucking hell, Erin, this is cruel. She prescribed something, ignoring your wishes for something that you know works and is now trying to pull this shit? Doesn't she understand it's people who go without sleep who wind up in clock towers and shit? That it's a torture technique employed by the CIA?

I'm glad you found a place that accepts walk-ins. I was going to suggest you try finding somewhere else, like, right away, because clearly this woman is not for you.