The sick twisted freak

I was going to make a post informing you that I got my pills and that I'm feeling better. However, I'm suddenly feeling much MUCH worse. This is an e-mail that I got last night while I was sleeping.

From May 23, 2011

That black box? Yeah, that's my home address. That's where I fucking live. This bastard knows where I live. I'm looking into getting to a hotel for a while. Fortunately I'm moving in about 10 days. If I can, I'm going to spend the least time possible in my current house so that freak can't find me.

Who told him?

Burecratic horseshit!

So, last night when I went to take my nightly dose of lamictal I discovered that it was my last dose. I went to the pharmacy website to put a new order in and guess what? I have no refills. I figured, "Oh, I'll call my neuro in the morning and get this fixed. I can miss my morning dose,"

Well guess what? My neuro won't give me any refills. I need an appointment first. She wants to "check up" on my epilepsy. I tried to tell her that I was out of pills. But that doesn't matter, she seems to insist that I come in. She just desperately needs to drag me into her office 30 miles away for a 2 hour wait in her waiting room and then a 15 minute talk with her about my seizure disorder. I told her I can't be without my pills and suggested that she give me permission to have at least a 2 week supply.

She didn't fucking listen. I needed to have an appointment.

The next appointment she has is next Monday at 10 in the morning. I took it.

I have no idea what the hell I'm going to do.

Shit.