Turns out even “credit unions” can be dicks sometimes.
But first, medicine ; Did the Wound Care Clinic thing today.
Two nice surprises : my nurse was Stephanie, who was my fave nurse from my time in the IV Antibiotics program because she’s a little wacky and a lot of fun.
Dunno if she remembered me but I doubt it, seeing as she asked me where my big leg wound came from.
It was an infection…. don’t you remember? Did our time together mean so little to you?
Just kidding. I like being melodramatic sometimes.
The second surprise was that the actual wound care nurse (name forgotten already, damn me) from the hospital was there too, and she was very pleased with how well the wound was healing.
That was good to hear. I thought it was doing well. It’s way shallower than it was before, meaning my body is filling in the hole with pink new flesh.
Migosh, I’m actually healing. Hurray!
She spent some time thoroughly trimming the “slough” from the edges of the wound and cleaning things up in general.
And I like that. I need all the TLC I can get, and it feels good to have the wound all clean and ready for more healing.
Plus I have finally figured out why I never get the same nurse twice : none of them work there permanently. They just rotate through.
I imagine it’s a relief to just do wound care for a day when you are used to dealing with things far more dire and stressful like heart attacks.
And now, to the motherfucking bank :
So I cashed my check today and got told that I can’t add money to my reloadable VISA any more. Apparently they actually canceled the whole damn card way back in May, which someone really should have told me.
And some time between my previous check and this latest one, they stop letting people add to their balances.
So just like that, I am back to walking around with a wad of cash in my wallet.
Like a motherfucking caveman.
And there is no new reloadable VISA program for me to join either. They are just plain not doing that any more, presumably because it made poor people too happy.
So I applied for a regular VISA instead. The kind where they lend you money and you pay them back at the end of the month.
I have the fucking money, but they would rather make me beg them to loan me the money then pay them back.
So the new plan is that I just charge stuff to the new card and pay the balance off at the end of the month just like my father used to do.
Drove the bank crazy. They kept upping his credit limit in hopes of tempting him to get into more debt with them so they could juice us with interest charges.
We both found that pretty fucking funny.
Anyhow, so I am going to use cash until the new card comes through. Makes me seriously consider changing banks to one which HAS a reloadable VISA.
I vaguely recall Money Mart had one. But they charge me three percent to cash a check. That would be like $40/month!
Not my first choice.
I will work something out. I just deeply resent having this senseless complication thrown my way by the forces of fate.
Plus I ended up having to stand at the teller’s window for a really long time and I got dizzy and my knees started to turn to jelly because I am not supposed to do that.
Coupled with my Fallout ’76 issues, I am having a frustrating time lately.
Which, to be honest, is probably good for me. In the long run.
Funny how that works.
More after the break,
A rare treat
I ordered in from White Spot tonight, a Wednesday night.
I never order in on Wednesdays. Tuesdays and Fridays only. But I really felt the need to treat myself after all the aggravation and hassle at the bank today,.
So I said screw it, and treated myself with a $34 meal from White Spot.
What the hell, I can afford it. And more importantly, I think it is a good sign that I am actively taking care of my mental health and mood this way.
Anything that reminds me that I do have the power to make myself feel better sometimes is a good thing.
I have been made passive by depression and despair for far too long. It is paradoxical if looked at from an outside perspective. I have all this power from my talents, intellect, and personality, and yet I act like an invalid too weak to leave his sickbed.
Well there is power and there is the will to use it. And not just will, but strength and spirit and courage and grit.
And under it all there’s the fear of the implied and inescapable responsibility.
I could do a lot of harm with my superpowers if I used them carelessly or thoughtlessly or selfishly. Of course, I also could do a lot of good.
That’s pretty scary too, though.
I don’t want to be a messiah. I just wanna have fun.
Bit late on that whole “dying young” thing though.
But I am trying to put a positive spin on my age. I’ve had decades to grow and learn and change and become who I am today.
Most people are too busy living their lives for that. I have accidentally been given the chance to become the most fully grown and well developed hothouse flower ever.
That makes me the rare and magical creature I am. It might not be the path most people take through life, but then again, I’m not like most people.
Like, at all. I’m a high flying weirdo with my own unique point of view who gives people the impression he’s coming to them from another dimension.
That’s not necessarily a bad thing.
In fact it could just mean that I am something truly amazing.
But hey, what are the odds of that?
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.