Boy I hope this is not permanent.
Because I am way more debilitated than usual right now. I just got back from the kitchen and that trip was way, WA/Y harder than usual.
This could be it. Next stop, wheelchair, and needing help in the bathroom.
Before I even left my room, I was wheezing, and all my major muscles were on the verge of conking out on me.
The whole time I was out there, I was hanging on to the countertop like a man lost at sea clings to a piece of driftwood. The wheezing only got worse, and there came a point where I was not at all sure that I was going to make it back.
Not without a lot of help from Julian, anyhow.
But I managed. Somehow, I managed, and now here I am, sitting here wondering what fresh hell awaits me now.
And it wasn’t just my lungs and my muscles, either. My heart was pounding like an angry kettle drum too, as was my head.
Those tend to go together with me.
It’s so fun.
And that’s just the latest catastrophe. Today has ben fucked. All this morning I was drifting in and out of a very unrestful kind of sleep, stuck in an oxygen starved state until I finally remembered that I knew what to do about that.
Just like last week. Sheesh. I just don’t learn.
In general, I have been feeling increasingly shitty lately. My muscle pain has been getting worse, and has spread into both my shoulders, and from there radiates down some nerve all the way to the tip of my index finger.
Along the way, it also makes a bunch of the muscles in the back of my hand cramp up and ache. Luckily. these problems seem to be fading away, but they are still quite worrying to me nevertheless.
God, I don’t wanna die. I don’t want to suffer. I don’t want to fall apart. I just want to keep living my dumb little life with maybe a chance of making it better.
But shit like this rocks me all the way down to my foundation. I guess it forces me to face the fact that I am, in fact, a very sick man who might get a lot worse any second.
Not a happy thought. And not one I can afford to entertain for very long. Not with my mental health being as fragile as it is.
Especially right now. I feel like an icy cold wind as sharp as a knife is cutting through my soul, and I am powerless to do anything about it.
All I can do is hide under the covers and hope the whole thing blows over.
Oh, and I was dealing with really terrible circulation yesterday. Felt like there was a cold wind blowing under my comforter. I had to force myself to get up and move around to get the blood flowing around like it needs to.
Makes one very aware of one’s status as a creature heated by its blood and if that blood isn’t make it around in sufficient amounts, you are fucked.
Now to stand up for a little while in order to get the blood flowing to as many parts of me as I can manage before collapsing back into bed.
More after the break.
Misery minus one
Feeling a little better than the last time I was typing at you.
Mostly, I have slept, and whaddaya know, this time it helped. It was even decent quality sleep instead of the half-stifled death trance from this morning.
So there’s a light.
I’m gonna have to get my plus sized butt in front of Doc Chao soon though. My health seems to be getting worse lately. I feel very fragile, like my muscles and tendons are made of used bubble gum and my nervous system is down to bare wires.
Ergo, I should see my GP.. But then I will be faced with the nigh on impossible task of conveying my symptoms to him in an earnest and medically accurate way.
I don’t relish fencing with his stupid goddamned “derp, I’m a doctor!” attitude, but I can’t see any other choice.
Maybe this time, I will finally give in to the temptation to yell, “Look, are you fucking stunned!?!” and practically goose step him through how to be a fucking doctor.
Probably not. That would not be in my best interests.
But it’s nice to think about, you know. Cathartic.
Of course, knowing my stupid fucking life, I will convince him that I am super sick, he’ll order tests and x-rays and such, and they will reveal absolutely nothing.
According to medical science, I’m fine. Or I have like, stealth ailments who know how to hide from the tests.
Or I have something super obscure that normal tests don’t detect. I guess if it turns out I have Cushing Syndrome (too much cortisol), that would qualify.
If so, I will have to send a little thank you gift to the charming med student who suggested Cushing to Doc Chao.
She seemed like such a nice girl.
God damn I’m old.
Hopefully I will be feeling more human tomorrow. Right now, I feel more like some proto-hominid, like Australopithecus or homo habilis.
Which is better than feeling like a fish trapped on dry land, gasping for air, like I did this morning, My life is truly fucked up.
Maybe the lesson I will take from all this is that I should treat each day where I feel okay as a precious gift, and try to get the most of life that I can.
Problem is, I have never known what the fuck that means. My powerful but impaired imagination has no idea how to get this mythic “more” out of life.
All I know how to do is survive. Make it through the day. Hold myself together enough to see another sunrise. Live til tomorrow.
I haven’t the slightest idea what “more” would look like, let alone this mystical and arbitrary “the most” or “the fullest”.
Fuck that Mediterranean crap. I am firmly Northern European and I need practical advice, not your god damned “don’t worry be happy” empty-headed bullshit.
Fuck all optimist, man,.
Because you have no fucking idea.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.