Friday was NOT a good day. First I got a phone call from Advanced Radiology. After mispronouncing my name the woman on the other end said, "We gave you somebody elses films by accident and you need to bring them back."

In the first place, any time anybody says "you need to" or "I need you to" it really bothers me. And in this case, if somebody else made a mistake of that magnitude I don't feel I need to do anything before I get a full and VERY sincere apology....

"You've got to be kidding me." I said.

"No." Well, I guess nobody would really call you up and tell you a joke like that, particularly somebody from a radiology office.

"Where are my films? Who has them? How did this happen?"

" I don't know, but we need -"

"What do you mean you don't know?! This is unconsionable!" I roared. And even if I hadn't been yelling into the phone at the top of my lungs, you could tell I was really, really angry because that's the only time I ever say "unconsionable". I think that I am way more scary than most angry people because I don't cuss and call people names, but I do yell very unpleasant things, many of which are true, but not, strictly speaking, polite. Thus the person isn't able to disregard me because I'm a) not making sense, or b) foul, obscene or abusive. They sort of have to stand there and take it, which is what happened when I met with the manager of the place and the woman who called me.

They swear that the films I have ARE my films (and thus the bright white spots on my brain are mine to worry about) and that they made a mistake and gave part of my films to another patient who took them to their attending physician who, astutely, realized that his patient was not a 40 year old woman with my name. There's hope, I tell you, for the medical profession. So he asked his patient to bring that copy back.

I still really laid into the woman for the way she spoke to me on the phone, but once I got done and heard what she had to say, I apologized for screaming and she apologized saying she "had no idea she was comming accross that way." The manager of the place explained the whole scenerio and offered to walk me to my car. I could tell she was going to have bad dreams about me for a really long time.

The thing is, that when I got back home, I literally got down on my knees and asked God to forgive me, because I felt terrible. And not very much like myself. Usually, if somebody makes a mistake, I try not to make it worse by going off like a bomb. How many millions of times have I made a mistake? And when I do, don't I want people to be kind to me? No matter how sick I am, I don't want to lose my whole self in my illness. I used to be a kind person. Now I'm turning into some kind of a witch on wheels.

So. Then I had the idea that maybe I should take the films up to Dr. DogLovers office so I don't have to keep looking at them. But that that didn't work, because they don't have any place to store them. But someone on his staff said that the radiology report said that my brain was normal. At first I was really happy, and then I realized that the radiology report wouldn't really, exactly say that. Or, at least, the point is that "normal" is a relative term, even when it comes to anatomy and physiology. There are things that don't mean anything if you're 80 that might mean a lot when you're 40, or that don't mean anything by themselves, but if taken together with other things are important. That's why Dr. DogLover spent all that time in school. Otherwise, he could just be a life insurance underwriter.

If I don't find something out when I have my follow up appointment I'll probably have to be committed.