I love copays.

I'm writing on my phone from my neurologist's office. My last visit started with a 1.5 hour wait and ended with a massge and acupuncture another 1.5 hours later, so I have time to type slowly.

I'm a mess again, but trying to stay in good spirits. The lightheadedness and boob/chest pain was really bad last week. My sonogram and mammogram came back fine, which is great and shitty at the same time. There isn't a piece of an implant or, thank Shizza, tumors, but there still isn't an explanation for my pain. My mom said to go to a neurologist and I'm super glad I did.

An undiagnosed/untreated inner ear infection seems to be the reason for my lightheadedness, dizziness, occassional nausea, and inability to lay down flat without getting a headache. YAY FOR AN ANSWER!! Boo for the asshole doctor who said I was depressed. Never going back to him. In fact, I'm done with male doctors. I ain't risking "this bitch be crazy" diagnosis again.

The neuro wants me to go for two MRIs on the brain and ear. Hopefully by Friday the infection will be confirmed and I can get meds and feel good once and for all. Right now I'm in her Chinatown office waiting to do some balancing tests. A kickass martial arts movie is on in the waiting room. Definitely a nice way to start a Monday.

She also thinks at this point my boob is a pulled muscle and needs some physical therapy. I've lost a lot of strength since last summer, so it really is time to get back to the gym. One last snafu of course, because apparenty 2011 and my body don't like each other - my foot spasmed on Wednesday and I'm rocking a sweet pimp limp. I already went to a podiatrist because I'm my doctor nazi mother's daughter. It's not broken, but the doc wrapped it and said to stay off my feet for a few days. Sorry bub, but that's not an option in this city.

My Ruth Clare alter ego is taking over. I seemed to have turned 83 and not 33 this month. My ridiculous amount of ailments and doctor's visits this year are comical at this point. Tomorrow I'll probably wake up with a dick growing out of my forehead. Call me Screwicorn.