Well, my legs stopped working again.
Plus my back is fucked up. When I try to do anything that involves the large muscles of my back, I get this horrible wrenching pain.
The kind of pain that says, “Don’t do that. ” in no uncertain terms.
Add that to my legs turning into limp noodle with less tensile strength that an ancient pack of pipe clearners and you can see why it’s taken all afternoon just to get my ass from the bed to my computer chair so I can blog.
I’ve also got weird little cramps all through my torso and my wrists and ankles are aching and I am finding it very hard to concentrate.
There’s probably more but that’s enough for now.
Like lst ear, the onset of my symptoms coincided with my waking up from a nap. The transition from sleeping to awake and realizing I’m in deep shit was not an easy one.
I am, of course, considering calling 911. I certainly can’t get to the car in my current state, so if I am to get to the hospital, it’s an ambulance or nothing.
It will be mildly embarrassing to explain that my symptoms showed up at 1 pm and I am only getting around to calling 911 in the evening.
But to be honest, I have been pretty incoherent all afternoon. I did not have the mental wherewithal to actually decide to call 911 and then call them.
Sucks to be me, don’t it.
Now that it has started to cool off a bit, I can think better and thus I am better able to exercise my executive function and actually make plans and execute them
You can make it remarkable far through your day with that shit missing.
Mostly I just dozed or slept all afternoon.
Of course, I don’t want to call 911. That’s gonna end up setting offf a huge amount of hassle, discomfort, boredom, and unpleasantness.
And after all that , those fuckers at the ER will still end up telling me that they couldn’t find anything, “but hey! great news! you get to go home now!”
But I don’t want to go home. I want to know what the fuck is happening to me and how we are going to prevent it in the future. And I want you to keep on looking till you actually have a god damned answer.
Crazy, I know.
Man, it is not easy to get the words out right now. All I want to do is crawl back into bed and resume my somnolent state so I don’t have to deal with anything any more.
But I got 64 words to go.
I can do this. I know I can.
I know I should call 911. But I am not very good at doing what I should do.
I guess that’s because I have an almost total lack of self-discipline. I never learned to force myself to do things and now I am paying the price.
Everything about me is so… flabby. And weak.
I Want to be a man, dammit.
But that doesn’t seem to be on the horizon for me.
More after the break.
Let’s do it again
All rigfht, let’s see how far I can make it this time.
I think I am starting to feel better. I don’t have much trouble getting my butt to the computer chair any more. It’s not exactly a smooth as glass transition, and there’s a certain amount of groaning involved, but I manage it just fine.
And that’s progress, I couldn;t make the transition at all this afternoon. No matter what angle I approached it from, I simp;y coul;d not get my body high enoug to park it on the chair or thereabouts.
And just like last year, I found myself giggling at the futility of it all while also kind of panicking because my body was not working right and I could not do the things I normally can do.
And that’s some freaky shit, man.
I guess I won’t be calling 911, Kinda glad I didn’t do it earlier, to be honest, although I am not sure that I should be.
Arguably I really should have called 911 and gotten my ass to the hospital. That would have been the sane and rational adult thing to do.
So, ya know, completely out of character for me.
I was neglected by my caregivers as a child and I neglect myself as an adult. Nobody ever gave me the impression that I was worth anything as a kid and now I find it incredibly hard to find the motivation to look after myself.
I’m just not worth the effort. That’s what it all boils down to.
You’d think the consequences of self-neglect would be enough to motivate me. But the thing is, the consequences are rarely immediate, direct, or startling.
If failing to monitor my blood sugar caused a clown to appear out of nowhere and kick me in the nuts, that would probably incentivise me sufficiently.
But no, I can get away with a lot of atrocious self-abuse without the connection with how I feel becoming evident at all.
And even if it did, I wouild still feel too shitty to do anything about it. I can think of all kinds of things I “could” be doing to improve my lot in life and I don’t have the energy or the motivation to do any of them.
Ya just can’t get there from here.
But really, who fuckin’ cares. Nothing matters, nothing is important, and nothing counts. The world is a steaming ball of shit and we are but flies crawling on it.
I feel like I want to throw up for a year. I’d almost be willing to drown if I died clean. I have been living filth staining reality for far too long.
I know I won’t always feel this bad.
But I also know that I have no way to get out of my own shadow long enough to dig my way out of this hell hole.
I don’t even know where to start.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.