2000-10-21 | 1:15 AM

*sigh* I'm supposed to be on bed-rest for the next week. Hey, I tried, but I was informed that I was watching my siblings tonight so my Mom could go out and get drunk.

Yesterday I sat in an examining room awaiting the doctor's entrance. Instead of the usual balding, semi-overweight doctor Noah Wyle from 'ER' strode into the room. He ran a hand though his hair and smiled at me. "What hurts?" "Umm...my chest.." I responded as he whipped out his stethoscope....

Oops, sorry about that. I can fantasize can't I? So the short balding doctor advised me that I have a severe case of bronchitis, with a chance of pneumonia. Is he a weatherman or a doctor? Two weeks of antibiotics, expectorants and an inhaler. He recommended I stay in bed for the next week. I have to return in two weeks and endure a chest x-ray to make sure it is indeed not pneumonia. Then if I'm improving a flu and pneumonia shot.

Let me just say that I freaked when he insisted I use the inhaler four times a day. I've never used an inhaler. I was afraid I'd drop the damn thing and it'd explode or something. haha. Fortunately I was able to use the inhaler without injury to anyone around me. Hey I can breathe again! Albuterol. Isn't that like a stimulant or something? Yeah I could see myself going from doctor to doctor trying to score inhalers. Umm...right.

So as I am stuck home for the next two weeks I wonder what the Hell I'm supposed to do. Maybe Doug and Amy will tuck me in bed and read me "The Lorax" while cuddling with me for hours on end? Ahhh....sorry fantasizing again. And a special thanks to Amy for giving me the heads up on the Al Gore "Rolling Stone" issue. I will force someone to run out and find it for me tomorrow. Did I mention that you all must vote for Al Gore? It's my diary and I'll discuss politics if I want to. So there. You too can show your support by placing the Gore/Lieberman banner (at the bottom of this page) on your diary and link it to: algore.com. Hey bet you didn't see me as Politics-girl did you? I am deeper than I seem - that I promise you. Now on to the serious stuff...

Tuesday was full of strangeness. I walked into my therapy session looking like Hell. I sit down. I guess my ill look was construed as something else:

Therapist lady: "So...you're off the Lithium right?"
Me: "Yes." (True)
Therapist lady: "And still taking the Zoloft?"
Me: "Yes." (Lie)
Therapist lady: "Not taking anything else are you?"
Me: "No." (umm....)
Therapist lady: "Are you getting Xanax, Valium or Ativan from another doctor?"
Me: "No." (True)
Therapist lady: "Nothing?"
Me: "Nothing." (Lie. But hey do sleeping pills count? Need my sleep you know.)
Therapist lady: suspicious glance. "Okay..."

As you can see I'm not a big talker in therapy. It's like pulling teeth. But I do not appreciate her attitude.

I get home and the upstairs phone rings. I have my own line which usually only takes messages since I rarely answer it. I run and hide when the phone rings. Trauma. With a look of confusion my Step-Dad hands me the phone. "It's for you. No clue who it is."

Me: "Hello?"
?: "Hey..."
Me: dumbstruck, "Who is this?"
?: "You don't recognize my voice? I'm hurt..."
Me: "Ummmmm..."
?: "Real nice...."
Me: "Ohhhhh. Hey loser..."
Ex-husband: "Miss me?"
Me: "No. Remember our last conversation?" (I hung up on him after he harassed me about lots of crap.)
Ex-husband: "Well...I'm in Tennessee on business. I'm returning to Tampa in a week. I want to send you a plane ticket so you can visit me for a week...."
Me: dead silent
Ex-husband: "Hello?"
Me: "Umm...I don't think that's a good idea...."
Ex-husband: "I'll call you on Saturday. Think about it..."
Me: "Okay. Bye."

He wants me to 'test the waters' and consider moving to Florida to live with him. I've refused until now. As much as I resent the guy I'm actually considering. Why? Because I need to get away from my Mom before I end up hating her.

When I hung up the phone my Mom ran over eyes glazed over. I'm sure she was eavesdropping as usual and figured out who I was speaking with (even though I never called ex by name.) "Who was that? Was it Ed? What does he want?" All nervous. I told her that he wants me to visit him. Mom had a fit: "No. I don't trust him. You're not going!" Wait, last I checked I was over 18 years of age. "I'm an adult. I'll go if I want..." I responded as I left for the comfort of my beautiful den of comfort (my basement dwelling.)

Mom's afraid of the same thing I am. If I go I may never return.