Cause it fixed me! My symptoms are gone.
Well, almost. There is still some pain when I pee, but it’s nothing compared to the gut-ripping agony that came with the act a mere 24 hours ago.
So three cheers for Cefixime. It works fast and well.
And I can see why the doctor took pains to warn me not to stop taking the pill when my symptoms went away. Were I an even less wise person, I might have been tempted to say, “Woohoo, I’m cured!” and forget all about Cefixime.
But as patient readers know, I know from experience how bad an idea that is. When I was going to UPEI, I caught a nasty cold. Went to the doc, got the pills, took them for three or four days, felt better, and stopped.
Causing my nasty cold to come back as something so heinous that my friends had to take me to the hospital, where I stayed for three whole days.
A time about which I remember absolutely nothing.
I remember getting there and I remember leaving, but the events that transpired within are locked away in a big black box which I am happy to never, ever open.
Some things are just not worth remembering, ya know?
So you better believe that I am going to finish my week of Cefixime. Some lessons even a fool like me only needs to learn once.
Meanwhile, I will just have all the other ways in which I am dying to deal with.
So. yay that.
More after the break.
It’s a bottomless pit
That’s what I fall into when I try to explain or justify my inaction on so many things involved in taking care of my health.
I’m a very sick man. And I do precious little about it,
I don’t monitor my blood sugar. I don’t take my insulin. Or my other injection. I don’t exercise, or even move around much. I don’t even spend any time not looking ar screens., let alone getting any fresh air or sunshine.
Instead I live like a monk. Or a hermit. Or both.
And I have no explanation or justification for this self-neglect.
All I have is a single word, which I will get to shortly.
It’s not like I think I am doing the right thing. I am not so delusional as to make up specious bullshit justifications for my actions and (mostly) inactions.
I’m doing it all wrong. And I know that.
It just fails to motivate me to change.
I mean, join the club. Very little motivates me to do anything at all. That’s why I am wasting my life playing games on my tablet all day.
Other motivations can’t even get their foot in the door.
So I know I am continuously failing myself. And I don’t care.
I know I am hastening my own demise. And I don’t care.
I know that before I die I will go through medical hell as things shut down one by one until I die a miserable and meaningless death, scared and alone and in great pain and I still don’t fucking care.
Not where it counts. Not in a way that leads to action. enough for it to make me any more capable of change.
And all the rational self-interest arguments in the known universe can’t fix that.
Because I will agree with every one of them.
And it won’t change a goddamned thing.
How could it? I already agree that I should do all the things.
Doesn’t make me any more capable of doing them, Just adds to the list of ways in which I am failing.
So the only justification I can offer is that single word I mentioned : depression.
Why don’t I monitor and control my blood sugar? Depression.
Why do I stay in bed and play games all day? Depression.
WHY AM I ON THE FAST TRACK TO A SLOW DEATH? DEPRESSION.
I am just too crazy to live. And there’s nothing anyone can do about it, least of all me.
I hope it was nice to know me.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.