He then filled out a paper for my handicap plate WRONG—marking temporary placard instead of permanent plate—and I had to explain to him the difference. THEN, instead of listening to me when I said that he did this LAST TIME and that's why they wouldn't take it before, he scribbles it out, writes "ERROR" by the temp check/scribble, and sends me to his nurses.
Ma basically has to yell at his referring nurse because she wanted to MAIL ME the MRI referral for the MRI I needed done today since I can no longer bend or straighten my leg.
Next we head to the DMV and SHOCK OF SHOCKS, they won't take the fucking paper because for all they knew I scribbled out the temp and changed it to a plate.
They try to call the doctor, but he leaves at NOON on Wednesdays, and it's 1pm.
I spend the next two and a half hours calling and making the answering service call. Eventually, the referral nurse calls me back, gives me the office manager's direct number and says to have the DMV call that and she'll walk to Corbett's office next to hers and get him.
Mom, luckily, is smart and said not to go to the DMV until I can get a hold of the office manager.
Which never happens, because the one time she picked up while it was going to her machine, she hung up and let it go to the fucking machine.
Then I got to drive in the wrong direction and swing around and go FOUR CITIES AWAY to my MRI—which I will learn nothing from today because it was scheduled so late that the person who reads them had long gone home for the day.
Also, Yussie erased all my songs off my iPod, so that made the MRI EXTRA fun.
My knee STILL HURTS, and the doc gave me fucking VICODIN because he is RETARDED and cannot apparently write anything down the ten billion times I tell him about my family's drug history.
So. I woke up at 10am, have been on the move ever since, and have accomplished NOTHING USEFUL but the MRI.
P.S. I also worked Open/Close Monday and Tuesday.