So the plan was that I would go to my bank, Vancity, and talk to them about a new credit card to replace the shitty one with their name on it that aided and abetted thieves taking $120 from me, then I would walk to PriceMart and get some shopping done, then take a cab home from there.
Phase 1 was disappointing. Turns out that Vancity has nothing else that even vaguely resembles my shitty reloadable VISA. There’s such a thing as a VISA Debit card, which sounds like exactly what I was looking for, but Vancity doesn’t offer one.
So apparently, if i want an actual trustworthy secured VISA, I have to go to a real bank and not a credit union.
Well if that’s the case, I might as well move my bank account to a real bank too, and tell Vancity to go fuck themselves.
I mean, what I want is something that lets me pay with VISA and have the money come directly from my bank account. And that kind of only works if your VISA card and your bank account are from the same place.
I will brood a while over whether I am mad enough to switch banks.
In the meantime, I got my new card for the old shitty reloadable VISA in the mail yesterday and I put $100 on it today so I have some way to pay my bills with some money left over to buy myself a new video game some time soonish.
I’m not quite done with Skyrim, but I am pretty sure this latest character, my customized Orc, will be my last.
I’m getting just plain burned out on the game. There’s still whole galaxies of content for me to try out there but meh.
I am sure that in a couple of years I will come back to it. I only hope that I retain enough memory of what I have already done to let me pick up where I left off.
This time through, I did mostly stuff I had done before because it had been long enough that I didn’t remember any of it particularly well.
Anyhow. On to Phase 2, and that’s when all the trouble began.
Because I hadn’t gotten far in the surprisingly and shockingly epic trip between Vancity and Pricemart when I realized something was terribly, terribly wrong.
The walk was killing me. I felt so weak. Within seconds, my leg muscles were screaming and my heart was pounding and my head felt like it was going to explode.
It was all I could do to actually make it across the parking lot to PriceMart, where I immediately began looking for somewhere to sit.
But nerp. There is literally absolutely nowhere to sit down there now. The outside bench is gone. The inside bench is gone. Even the shitty folding chairs in Customer Service are gone. Sitting is just not a thing there any more.
And this doesn’t just affect me. There are lots of old people who need a place to sit worse than I do, as well as other sickly types like myself.
Apparently, none of us are welcome at that store.
I tried to rally. I stood there trying to get enough strength back to go do my shopping, but I just couldn’t.
So I didn’t. I just called a cab and went home, no shopping done.
If there had been one lousy chair for me to sit on, they would have gotten $20-$30 of my money, but nope.
More importantly, I got a shocking revelation about just how much I have deteriorated over the last couple of months.
I mean, I knew I wasn’t feeling so great lately, but I had no idea that walking less than a block would damn near kill me,.
But as I stood there waiting for my taxi, blinking at the spots in my eyes and swaying like a tree in an inconstant breeze with dizziness and feeling like I might die, it occurred to me that I am not feeling very good.
So I am going to make an appointment with my GP so I can tell him all about it. He might well tell me to go to the hospital.
And to be honest, right now, that feels like a wonderful place to be.
More after the break,
Than to fade away
So this is it. Looks like I’m dying.
And I’m scared. Terrified. I feel like death drove past my house today, and pointed at its watch then laughed at me.
And I don’t want to die. I want to hang around.
For fuck’s sake, I am a pussy hair away from having my dreams come true,. I might actually write for television, For animation, even.
Dying now would be so goddamned unfair.
But I am clearly quite sick. Right now, I am keeping it at the GP level because I don’t quite see my symptoms as being worth a trip to the ER, but it wouldn’t take much to push my illness into that category.
I mean, it’s 7:30 pm and I still feel tired and weak from the walk from Vancity to Pricemart. Two parking lots worth of walking, and I feel like the walking dead.
Won’t be long before I can only get around in one of those electric scooters.
And for a fat guy like me, ending up in one of those scooters is like a woman ending up with a house full of cats – it’s the nightmare scenario you’ve been dreading, and having it actually happen makes you feel like a total failure,
And the thing is, the warning signs were there. Each week, getting my groceries was taking more and more out of me. Looking back, my decline was clear.
But it took something like today to shock me out of my denial.
Because that’s what I have been in. Denial. I think that somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought that I was just being a wimp and that if I really wanted to, I could shake it off and go back to normal.
Nerp. I am quite fucked up. I need medical attention pronto or my long suppressed nightmare will come true and my pilot light will go out like a snuffed candle.
And I just plain won’t be here any more.
And I really, really don’t want to die.
Which is progress of a sort, I guess.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.