And Then...

Warning - offensive language...read on if you like, but don't come crying to me because you don't like me using the f-bomb.


I called Toshiba. I bought a new Toshiba laptop earlier this year and for some weird reason, my keys switch from working to not working. Let me rephrase that - it goes from letting me type some characters to only letting me type other characters. I have a multilingual keyboard (didn't really notice it and no one thought to point that out when I bought it). The keys have 5 or so different characters, and I don't know how to access them. Today it was the question mark and apostrophe. All of a sudden, I couldn't get them to work. All I would get was French letters, or characters I didn't want. So I thought, let's call Toshiba and see who can piss me off there. It didn't take long. All I wanted was to find some document or help page that explained how to use the multi-lingual keyboard. He tried to get me to find the manual on my computer. I told him it wasn't there. I had already been through THAT before. We searched anyhow, using "user manual" as the search terms as directed. It came up with about 1400 files...none of which were user manual. So how did it come up with so many things there were clearly NOT user manual. 497 of them were my photos! WTF? So then he tried to reason that it found a bunch of web pages I had visited that might have those words on the page. Um, no. You fucking idiot. They are photos. My photos. I just told you that. The words are not in the title and certainly not found cryptically within a photo of a tree...we finally determined that it brought those things up because they were in the "user" file. Sounds stupid enough to be right. 


Okay, so then he went to check online for the manual. He found it, I did not. I asked him to point me to it. He ignored this request several times. I wanted to look with him, in case he did really find something about my keyboard in there. Then he tried to explain to me that it was not actually in the manual. Okay, where can I look then? So he starts rambling on about some shit that I have no idea what he means by it, and when I tell him this, he says nothing at first, and then starts in again on the manual, wanting me to download a copy. Why? It won't fix my problem, we have already determined this. I explained to him again, I just want some sort of guide to my physical computer. How is it that I can spend over a thousand bucks on a computer that does not actually have a guide to it's physical use. I don't need help with the software, the battery pack, the charger cord, or how to clean the fucking screen. I WANT TO KNOW HOW TO USE MY KEYBOARD! Finally, I gave up and hung up on him. 


Enter idiot number 4 for the day. I called back to Toshiba, as we still had not resolved the problem. I get another immigrant who can barely speak English. Great. I explain my problem to him and he wants to go immediately to the user manual. I swear, if I was sitting near him, I would shove my computer mouse clear up his damned rectum. I painfully explained my last call and that all I wanted was a guide to my keyboard, and someone to fix the damned issue. He told me to hold down shift and control and it will switch languages. Which one, he couldn't say. I tried this, it worked. But what about all of those other functions on my keys I can't seem to access? Where can I find information about that? Well, his answer was that there is no guide. Really? Well how are people supposed to find these things out? By calling your adept call centre again and again? I fucking hope not. So then he wanted me to remove all of the languages that are not English so I can avoid this problem in the future. Um, no...I don't want to start deleting shit when you don't even have a guide to follow. Then starts a very condescending conversation about Windows. That's when I hung up the phone. Clearly this is not going to be a good "phone" day and I should just go back to bed. Fuck it. 

Friday Letdowns

warning - offensive language. If you don't like it, read someone else's blog, or skip today's posts.


Well, it`s barely 10am on a Friday morning and the day has already been shit. I checked my email and saw that I had one from Shaw, my cable-internet-phone company. My ebill is ready for viewing. So I follow the link to the website only to discover I must sign in. Fine. 7 attempts and they are all wrong. So I click on the button for accessing my password - they want me to sign up again, and ask me to locate some numbers on my phone bill. Um, WHAT????? So then I call the company, go through a zillion automated choices and finally get to talk to a person. I should have hung up and tried again. I was unfortunate enough to get someone who is brand new, and told me she doesn`t know how all the systems work. She proceeded to give me 4 different amounts when I asked what my bill was, and she could not explain why. She told me one of the amounts is past due by more than 30 days. How can that be...I have only received ONE bill so far, I haven`t been here long enough for that and I paid that bill. 


She confirmed that I did pay my bill, and that the account was at zero on the last billing date. Um, what (cannot seem to get the contractions or punctuation to work on this fucking computer today, but that is another story). So how can I be 30 days overdue on a zero amount...and I tell her I am not impressed that I now have a business who thinks I am overdue on my account, and it could show up on my credit report. No, she says, that would not happen. Sure, like you know what you are doing. We went around in circles, and finally she said she did not want to talk about it anymore because we are going around in circles. I told her the issue was quite simple - please tell me what my current fucking balance is, accurately. (no I did not swear on the phone, but I am MAD now) She then said she was going to transfer me...so I hung up. I am not in the fucking mood.

The next call was to the Pharmacy where I had left a prescription on Monday. I had been to see my doc earlier in the day and she prescribed the HP pack (box of 3 drugs) for h.pylori bacteria (what causes ulcers). I told her I had a terrible reaction to one of the drugs in that pack and I would prefer something else. She told me to just take it to the pharmacy and ask them if the HP pack has changed and no longer causes that side effect - metallic taste in the mouth. It made me so nauseous that I had to take Gravol with it, which of course, knocks you out, and still did not cure the taste. She said just get the pharmacist to call her and she would order something else instead. Great, off I go. I dropped the script off at the pharmacy on Monday afternoon and explained my issue with it. He called my doctors office and got her machine - office closed due to snow - what the hell...we had an inch or so...but that is another story for another blog. Pharmacist promises me he will try again tomorrow and will call me either way. That was on Monday. It is now Friday and NO CALL. So I call the pharmacy. Apparently the pharmacist is busy so they put me on hold. Then a pharmacist comes on the line. He is not the right pharmacist and has no idea what I am talking about. He tells me he will find the other pharmacist and have him call me back. Right, sure you will. The other pharmacist calls me back, only to tell me he has not been able to get in touch with my doctor, that he called and never received a message back. Well, you said you were going to call me either way and did not. So then he tells me he can fill the prescription now if I would like. Um, NO. I would NOT like. It is not the right fucking prescription, dumbass. Throw it in the garbage and I will call the doctor myself and take it to another pharmacy. I had gone to this small one two blocks from me for this script only because I did not want to go downtown to my regular London Drugs pharmacy on Monday, thinking this would be quicker. Apparently not.


So then I call my doctor`s office, only to find out that she isn`t in until this afternoon. They have no record of the pharmacist calling. WTF. Great. So the pharmacist is lying and I still have no medication for the rotten infection I have in my stomach. The receptionist offers to leave a note for the doctor when she gets in this afternoon but can make no promises that she will return my call. Great. That`s just fucking great. Then she tells me my doc has walk-in clinic this afternoon and I`m welcome to come to that. Great, fucking great. I have ALREADY been to the doctor and received my diagnosis and script. I don`t need another appointment. I NEED someone to do their fucking job, that`s what I need.


And THEN, as I am at my breaking point, the neighbors start up Rock Band and pound out Boogie Wonderland on the drum kit...sigh...Calgon, take me away...

Just Who Needs Their Head Examined

So I went to the neurologist today, having asked for a referral to get another EEG to see why the twitching has increased...my friends who have seen me twitch know what I'm talking about. Apparently this was not the day to find out. Firstly, it was frigging snowing again, which I HATE and hoped to avoid on this side of the country but alas, not far. Then I had to drive all the way out of town to the Victoria General - why on earth would they build a hospital so far out of town? Must be close to some seniors homes or something. Then I had to pay for parking. I know, I know, most cities make you pay for parking at the hospital. I still mind it. Don't we pay an arm and a leg for health care as it is? Why are we also paying for parking at the hospital? Then I get inside and there is no map of the hospital, or directory. All there is when you go in the main entrance is numerous electrical panels that tell you nothing and about 20 sanitizer pumps...so I stood in line at the information desk and asked her where neurology is as I had an appointment. She had no idea. Okay, this is going to get real interesting, real quick. How do you not know where neurology is when you work at the INFORMATION desk? So then I had to tell her what I was having done, and she sent me to the electroscopy department. Not at all what was on my invite from the doc, but I figure I have nothing to lose by checking it out. First I had to stop and take off two layers of sweaters. I don't know why hospitals insist on overheating their buildings. 


So I find the electro dept, and tell the receptionist there I have an appointment for an EEG. No record of it. WTF? They don't schedule them this late, so she asked if I was scheduled for an EKG. Um, no. My heart is fine. It's my head that is about to explode if I don't get some answers. Then I was told to take a seat in the waiting room and the doctor would come and get me soon. Okay then, did I have an appointment or not? I wasn't going to ask any more questions. I went to the bare waiting room, and twiddled my thumbs, since there wasn't a scrap of paper to be read, neither poster, 10 year old magazine, or crappy newspaper. I guess they want you to be both frustrated and bored. 


It wasn't long before this older gentleman, with a very pronounced hunchback, called my name. I followed him so far, and then he just kept waving at me like we were going on an expedition to the north pole and he might lose me. 


We finally get to this hole in the wall office that he tells me he shares with 4 other doctors. He takes out the "referral" from my family doctor, and proceeds to try and decipher the terrible physician writing. He informed me that there was no request sent for an EEG and the machine is currently in the emergency department. Um, okay. So now what? He asked me to tell him about my symptoms and when they began. We went through some of it, and when I casually mentioned that I had numbness in my hands, but I think it was from tendinitis, as the doctors have told me for years it is not carpal tunnel syndrome. He was on that like a dog with a bone - we can check this electronically...and had anyone ever done this? No. The only thing doctors have ever done was bend my wrists this way and that and declared no problem. 


So Mr Science guy invites me to lay on the exam table while he attaches a few electrodes to my right arm so he can measure the stimulation of my nerves. This takes several minutes while he clicks away at the computer, adjusts electrodes, applies stickers, jelly...okay...and then came the cattle prod...no, not a real cattle prod, but worked much the same way by sending me a little jolt. Somewhat unpleasant, but I soldiered on. He printed off some stuff, said he had a diagnosis and left the room. Um...what? 


Mr Science guy came back and sat down, made a bunch of notes...I asked him, um, so what is the verdict and are we going to get to the EEG or not? Well, he informed me I had carpal tunnel syndrome, and handed me an article on it. As for the EEG, he filled out a requisition for it, and told me to expect a call from the scheduling clerk and if she didn't call, to call them. Okay, who? The clerk, you know, the clerk. Um, no I do not know, this is my first time here at this hospital and I only found you by luck. Just call the hospital and ask for the clerk...okay then. 


Then he asked me if there was anything that seemed to make the twitching worse - I told him that alcohol seems to exacerbate it some, but that I don't drink often, it is just something I noticed. I also told him about another little habit, but his answer to that was "that won't hurt you" and he rifled through his desk drawer again and left the room. When he came back, he handed me an article on the prohibition of cannabis, and said - that's how I feel about it all. It was an article supporting the legalization of cannabis, given the prohibition has not decreased use in any way, and has led to the growth of a huge criminal element. Okay doc, thanks. We also chatted about what I like to do in my spare time. I told him I like to go to music concerts, among other things. Then he asked what kind of music - so I mentioned rock music...well, that led to a very interesting discussion about the patterns he fails to see in rock music that he can see in jazz. I told him he had to stop trying so hard to explain it that he should just listen to it and enjoy it. 


Doc then asked me what I did for a living, and I told him I was a social worker. Then we ended up in a discussion about social work, his daughter was one, but she was a professional student, over achiever, unmarried, no children, and still in school for a doctorate, wants to be high in government, and he is concerned that she is an overachiever with no life for herself. I begin to wonder which doctor I really came to? Neurologist or therapist? He seemed to know what he was talking about for the most part, even if he did digress several times. After awhile though, I was beginning to think I was in the twilight zone. I went in for a head exam and came out with a wrist diagnosis...