Or maybe it’s the regular amount of crappy and I am just really fucking sick of it.
Just woke up, dizzy, headache, feeling like I was rolled flat then re-inflated likeI was a cartoon character, lightheaded, disoriented, etc.
Do not feel like blogging right now. Do not feel like doing anything except maybe thumping my head against the wall till I black out.
That sounds nice. Sweet oblivion, and all it cost me was a little brain trauma.
At least I would finally have the ability to knock myself unconscious. I have wanted that for so long. Because then I could bypass the ever frenzied monkey swarm in my head and go directly to sleep in a way that my conscious mind can’t fuck up.
My conscious mind is all kinds of fucked up.
It deserves to get cut out of the equation.
But I have never found the magic bullet to slay that nattering imbecile in my head. Sleeping pills, even fairly strong ones, are very little help in getting to sleep.
At best, they just help keep me asleep once I get there. Which is a lot of help when it comes to catching up with all those missed REM cycles – with all that entails, sigh – but it doesn’t solve the problem of overcoming my messed up mental state.
In fact. in the past, it has taken a conscious effort to keep myself from unconsciously shrugging off the effect of a sleeping pill like a horse flicking a fly with its tail.
I can only assume that my conscious mind has a lot of complex energy in it that is hard to subdue with a chemical.
It’s like trying to cancel out the motion of a tornado by blowing into the wind.
I suppose I should be glad the surgical grade stuff works and I am not some anesthesiologist’s worst nightmare.
I’d hate to wake up in the middle of my open heart surgery.
Whatever you do, do not look that up.
You do not want to know.
Gah, it’s so hard to think of things to write when I feel this way. Maybe some acetaminophen will help clear my head and get the words flowing.
Took some acetawhatzit. Hope they do the trick.
Called Doctor Ebtia’s office just now, trying to get a phone appointment with her. Apparently, I had a phone appointment with her back on July 26 but I must have spaced on the date or something because nobody answered the phone.
I think there might have been trouble with the phone lines that day?
Anyhow, now the secretary has to ask Doctor Ebtia if she wants to give me another chance. Like this shit is optional or something.
I’m sorry I fucked up, but I still need to have a cardiologist. So if she just can’t bring herself to trust me again, she at least needs to refer me to someone else.
I’m a very sick man with a very sick heart. Surely a cardiologist would be professional enough to put her annoyance with me aside in order to be a good doctor to me, right?
One would bloody well hope.
And now I am very sleepy, and I would normally take a nap after blogging, but I am waiting for the secretary to call me back and tell me if the Queen of Hearts will deign to grant me a fucking audience.
Fuck everything forever,
More after the break.
Big frigging surprise
She never called back.
This was my one lifeline back to maybe getting my heart fixed before it goes boom and I die, and I got the cold shoulder there, too.
Well I am not going to take it. I will call back tomorrow. I will pester them. I will make it clear that I am not a problem that will just go away on its own.
Because this is my fucking life on the line here. Literally. As in, whether or not there is still a Michael John Bertrand from Summerside Prince Edward Island in the world.
I’d rather there was. All things considered.
And I am willing to get as engry as it gets in order to save my fucking life.
I am not willing to die from being too polite.
And I have vast powers of self-expression to bring to bear on people who get in my way. I can be super scary when I drop the cute and fuzzy act and show them the angry bull that also lurks within me.
I can also bring a whole lot of logical AND rhetorical power to bear in any conversation. Throw in my ability to read people and get where they are coming from and I am a serious force to be reckoned with.
I have never tapped into even one percent of these powers. I have either been too timid and self-negating (sigh) or not had the need because my life wasn’t at stake.
And honestly, often a tiny percentage of my power is all I need.
Well that shit is over and done with and I am willing to build the bonfire of my rage as high as it needs to go in order to get what I need. I will make the powers that be fear my name and tremble at the thought of facing my wrath for their transgressions if that is what it takes to get justice.
It probably won’t come to that. But I am prepared.
Because I can destroy all their bullshit. I can reveal them as the pathetic ignoble little shit weasels they are.
And the only way to stop me is to give me what I want.
And all I want is to be treated like a human being with a life worth saving. Someone doctors actually care about despite my obesity and its complications. Someone they are as eager to cure as if I was a young superstar athlete of their preferred gender.
It is within my powers to turn myself into a cause celebre and make those who treat me like crap into the Internet Villains du jour.
So don’t fuck with me, assholes.
Or I will fuck you up.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.