Vagisil, Vagistat, Vagithis, Vagithat
The following is an almost verbatim, except the parts that might not be, conversation with a nurse.
Nurse: Thank you for calling Stupid Ass Doctor's Office Run By Stupid Ass People.
Me: Hi, I need to request a prescription refill.
N: You'll have to be seen for new prescriptions.
M: Oh, I've gotten it before; it's not new.
N: You'll have to be seen for that.
M: Can't it just be called in? I'm already at the Can't Stand It point.
N: You have to be seen to determine that it's yeast, not something else.
M: I know when it's yeast. I even know when it's crabs. Listen, I'm already at bushfire status. Maybe I should become a crackhead so I can scratch everywhere, not just my lady oven.
N: I can see when the next urgent care appointment is available. Please hold.
(Six minute hold, while I scratch)
N: We can see you at 1:15 Friday.
N: Are you there?
M: On a 10 level system I am at level 10 which is Cooter Conflagration. It's Monday. You just offered an appointment for Friday. Have you ever had a yeast infection? If so, you know about HOT HOT ITCHY, I'M ABOUT TO GET A FORK AND SCRATCH MY ENTIRE VULVULAR LINING OFF.
If someone told you to wait until Friday, how could you not respond with BITCH I'M ABOUT TO COME TO YOUR JOB AND SHOW YOU WHAT I MEAN BY I CAN'T SIT, I CAN'T WALK, I CAN'T SHOWER OR STAND OR BREATHE. I CAN'T PEE OR WIPE OR HOLD A NORMAL CONVERSATION BECAUSE IN THE MIDDLE OF CONVERSING COMES SCRATCH SCRATCH FIRE. Pardon me while I take a knee.
How do you, as a woman, utter Friday when you're talking to me on Monday? Isn't there some kind of cooch cooperative female nurses sign so that when the words yeast and fire are said together the response is "Oooh girl, let me see what's open TODAY." Then you apologize for the assholes you work with who think that a woman calling about a possessed poonani can wait more than 24 hours. Then you call in a refill.
N: I'm sorry you're so...inflamed, but you need to be seen first.
M: I already know what I have! I will not make it through this day, let alone four, without something immediate. Are you seriously going to make me act like Lootin' Lenny and call my uterus owning friends to see who might have an extra pill lying around? "Say, sister, I just need one hit, you know I'm good for it." Where is your cooch camaraderie?
N: So you don't want the Friday appointment?
M: My vagina is going to send your practice hate mail.