I just had the racistest taxi driver. Well, not racistest, especially since he drove me. But he was insistently chatty, and once he stopped pitching Dancing With The Stars at me, it was all racist/nationalist weirdness. Like, Djokovic is Russian like the Boston bombers. Wouldn't listen to me on that front. And then a lot of "like that" because they're "from there" and then to diet making you taller (which, not a problem--we've all heard about the Japanese shift in diet and resultant height gain) but he had isolated all these groups--Somalis are taller than Ethiopians, but they are from right next to them! And the Bangladeshi are shorter than Indians, because they don't eat as well. Then he segued into famous people dying a lot, and would it be Aretha or Tina Turner next? And maybe he would die next. Really odd.
He was taking me to a neuropsych appointment, for which the doctor hadn't shown up after 40 minutes. An associate took me back, to prep me for my "long day". At which point I told her I didn't know why I had this appointment or what it would encompass (it was scheduled without checking with me too). Turns out they're assessing cognitive function, which, fine. But hours of testing? I can't do that on a good day, and today is not a good day, since I've been home sick since yesterday, and I can't drive. They're going to reschedule, and they're going to break it up--I fail on sustained effort right away.
Now I'm at the ER and they're giving me paltry meds, so I don't see the pain going away anytime soon, or the itching, which is the only result of the meds so far. I think I will need a gown to scratch properly.