The last time I saw my therapist, which was May 21st, I decided I'd just rather skip a week due to Memorial Day than come in to see her on a Wednesday. After I got home, I looked at the calendar and realized I already had two appointments for Monday, June 4th to see my pdoc and for physical therapy. I immediately called her to reschedule and we both agreed to Wednesday, June 6th at 10:30 am.
I'm rather reluctant to see her on any day except Monday, because I have very little structure in my life, and this is one schedule I can handle. It helps keep me aware, at least mildly, of the other days of the week. A sort of mental focal point.
So I drive out to her office and arrive at the agreed upon time. The receptionist checks me in and calls my T's extension to let her know I'm there. At 5 minutes late, I'm tolerating the anger I feel building inside because I try to tell myself that maybe her last appointment is just running a little late. After 10 minutes I can barely contain myself, but still do because I'm thinking that maybe there was an emergency with another patient. After sitting there for 15 minutes I'm ready to just walk out the door, but instead I go back to the front desk and ask if she's even in the office yet.
The receptionist tells me my T never responded to the message she left and tries calling her again, but again there is no answer. Then the receptionist tells me my T doesn't have my appointment on her schedule as being at 10:30 am, but rather at 12:30 pm. Okay, so why the fuck didn't you tell me this when I first checked in?? And why the fuck, for the second time in just over a month, has she fucked up my appointment time on her calendar?? As tempted as I was to storm into her office and beat the shit out of her, I gathered myself together enough to just take my rage and leave. The bitch isn't worth going to jail over.
I feel like this is a test. She's testing me. Thinking, let's continue to fuck things up to see if we can get Sid mad enough to leave permanently. Finally get her out of our collective hair. I'm giving serious consideration to granting them their wish.
The T did eventually call, but I recognized the number and let it go straight to voice mail. "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened." Um okay. I do. We agreed to 10:30 am, but you wrote down 12:30 pm, probably because that was the time we used to meet on Monday's. And the reason I know I didn't fuck it up is because I still have the piece of scrap paper that I jotted the time down on just seconds before I got my calendar off the wall and wrote it on there.