Well, I have been keeping myself busy sleeping, playing video games, and hanging out with my fuzzy friends in order to avoid thinking about it, but now that I have stopped to do the good ol’ eat n’ blog, I can no longer deny it :
I am ill, and I’ve been ill all day.
And there is nothing vague about this illness. I have felt hot since I woke up this morning, so I am pretty sure I must have a fever.
Look, it was that, or go on about “more cowbell”.
And I think my other symptoms are related to said fever. I feel dizzy – every time I move my head it’s like my brain is sloshing around in my head. I feel hot, obviously. And with the dizziness comes these little stabs of what amounts to seasickness.
My life is so very neato, ain’t it?
Luckily, so far there is not a lot of pain or discomfort involved. And I think I’m thinking clearly, despite feeling like my brain ain’t doing so great right now.
What pisses me off is that this might mean missing my Wound Care appointment tomorrow, making it yet ANOTHER time I am missing two in a row.
And I don’t want that! My bandages feel all gross. I want to get them changed.
But I can’t deny that I am unwell and fevers are generally caused by infections (your body is trying to cook the germs out of you) so it would be wildly irresponsible for me to go to the Community Care Clinic (CCC) and maybe infect some old people with something they are poorly equipped to fight off.
Not that I’m in that great a shape to do so myself.
Well, that’s not true. My diabetes is under control and my blood pressure is under control so it’s really just my sleep apnea keeping me from being, like, healthy.
That and whatever the fuck is happening to my arm and leg muscles, of course.
I know that I am going to have to goose Doctor Chao into getting back on the case. I still need to know what the fuck is going on and whether it can be stopped or not.
I’ve accepted that I am probably never going to walk normally again and that in all likelihood I will stop walking entirely and end up in a wheelchair soon.
I don’t wanna go there, but my condition keeps getting worse and nobody is doing jack shit to stop it so I can’t see any other outcome.
Oh well. Given recent advances in the energy density of batteries as well as the energy efficiency of all kind of electric motors, motorized wheelchairs must be getting pretty good by now.
Out of sheer vanity, I don’t want to be a fat dude on a scooter. People sneer at fat dudes on scooters and make rude comments.
Nobody talks smack about someone in a wheelchair. Plus it’s not just a matter of my not being able to walk far.
If I have hit the wheelchair phase, that means I can’t walk at all any more. And so I would need, like, a full-time vehicle.
I guess it’s still possible that the damage to the muscles in my legs and arms can be repaired somehow. Maybe there’s a drug for my condition out there somewhere, awaiting a competent physician’s actual diagnosis.
I have to shamefacedly admit that sometimes I wish I had the money to go down to the US and see a doctor there.
Their system may suck but at least you can keep their goddamned attention.
More after the break.
Nobody loves Fru
Actually, lots of people love Fru. It just doesn’t get through.
So in some ways, reverting to thinking nobody loves me is just… easier. Easier than constantly reminding myself that, despite the message my feelings are playing on a loop 24/7, it just isn’t true.
Sometimes it’s a lot easier to believe a lie than to believe what you believe is a lie.
And it hurts to think of how incredibly sad and lonely my life has been. When I was raped when I was 4, that thick invisible wall went down between me and the world and it cut me off from all that is whole and healthy and vital and good.
No wonder I am always starving for affection. I need that touch, even if it’s only via text over the Internet. I am making up (I assume) for all the love and affection I did not get during a crucial part of my early childhood, both before and after that wall went down.
I think my childhood might have been a little fucked up even before the rape.
Speaking of that wall, it’s another thing that it’s hard for me to think about and so it’s hard for me to remember that it’s there.
Now that I am consciously aware of its presence, I can feel it in my mind. It feels like polished marble, the kind that always feels slightly wet to the touch. It’s hard and dense and kinda cold, and it is what is keeping me from feeling my world.
Not entirely, thank God. But mostly. That wall went up to protect me from the horror of being sexually assaulted when I was still young enough to be scared of the dark, and when it went up, no mechanism for lowering it was included.
In its own way, it was a final judgment on the entire world. World bad. Make world go away for good. Only let mind things in.
And that left me so deeply and profoundly disconnected. And like I keep telling myself, if I am to reconnect to the world, I am going to have to convince that deep part of me that was formed on that terrible day that the world is a good place after all and therefore it’s safe to let the wall go back to whence it came.
And then maybe I can truly come home again.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.