(I originally posted this in early August. Even though it was published, the Blogger app on my phone still listed it as a draft. I deleted the "draft." It ended up deleting the post itself. Fortunately, before that I had it open on my desktop, available to copy and paste.)
I came up with some self-analysis this week when I lost my temper while having difficulties straightening out the dispensation of my chemo pills at the oncologist's office over the last two weeks. (Not sure whether it was the pharmacy, who had to give me the initial supply, or the staff handling the transactions, or my insurance company. I won't go into details but I think there will be no future problems.)
As I see it, I have three stages of anger.
Stage 1: I am upset but explaining things in a calm, controlled voice. Example from Wednesday: me to my oncologist: "...when they (nurses/staff) say to me that 'there was a miscommunication' I interpret that to mean that they are placing at least some of the blame on me. Even if that wasn't their intent, that's how I feel."
Stage 2: This is the stage I reached with the nurses/staff 90 minutes after seeing the doctor and still waiting for my week's supply and being told I may have to wait another day: yelling. "This was supposed to have been resolved last week! This is unacceptable after all that happened last week! I am not going through this EVERY WEEK! I AM NOT LEAVING HERE without my meds!"
Stage 3: Similar to Stage 2 but with lots of cursing.
I suppose there could be a Stage 4 that includes physical acts such as throwing or breaking things, or worse. Let's hope we never find out.
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