cyclobenzaprine low

I saw my so-called "primary care physician" today. He didn't really remember me, despite the HMO fantasy that this is still the 1950's with doctors making house-calls and the like. I tried to get out of having to actually visit his office in person, but I was told on no uncertain terms by his nurse that the doctor does not prescribe on the phone. I am not sure what that policy is about, if it is not about making a few extra bucks and radically inconveniencing those they exist to serve. So I left work early, missed a few labor hours, forked over another $20 co-pay to sit in a stuffy office and be told what I already knew. I need some more dope and an appointment for an MRI.

I spent the day in a groggy fog. The cyclobenzaprine makes me into a lethargic and useless blob, but it makes sleep possible and for that I am grateful. I have never been the sort to pop pills, but looking in my cabinets of late one would be hard-pressed not to think me a bit of a junkie. I admit that I tend to hoard the fun stuff -the leftover knee-surgery vicodin, the over-the-counter codeine from the UK. Even the un-fun penicillin comes in handy. You never know when you will find yourself without health insurance here in the great United States. If you lose your job that might be it for a while, so having a secret stash of antibiotics is essential to any long-term personal health care plan.

I realize this is the most boring rant, but it is my life of late. A groggy, painful, annoying day-to-day. Poor M. He bears it well, if not without a few complaints. I feel sorry that he has to deal with such a gimp. I like to think there are other aspects that make up for all I lack in the health department.