cats, coffee, Life, medicine

Rotten Day

Every morning, without fail, Tigger does this to me when he yells, in panzer fashion, that the kitties need to get out from under his feet. He doesn’t talk to them calmly. He threatens them. I’m startled by his outbursts, and then this happens.

You’d think I’d learn. He’s not aware, and he really doesn’t care, anyway. He suffers from self-absorption. It’s part of his idiosyncracies. It’s one of the reasons he takes SSRIs.

Today, I am forced to go to Neurology at VCU. Why? They’re experts, you know. Just ask them. I do need the doppler ultrasound, though.

I need less debilitating medications, too, but chances are, like so many things, “it’s not my department”. And, no, I don’t need a freaking referral.

Anxiety has set in. My BP, as usual, is up. Don’t mess with me, any of you. I am extremely irritated.