Just did my lunchtime trip to the kitchen. A brief one, because all I really needed was a piece of fruit and a can of pop.

And once more, like usual, I feel like someone is standing on my heart. My head is pounding and I feel a little shaky, like I might be trembling a little. And the tingling in my fingertips is worse than usual.

And if I had not already been through this, I would be considering a trip to the ER. Those are all cardiac symptoms. I could be at risk.

But they are also the same symptoms I had when I dragged myself through the whole rigmarole of passing through the hospital’s slow-moving guts and it turned out to be nothing, or maybe just acid reflux.

And I must admit, my stomach is very acidic right now. And the feeling of pressure around my heart is accompanied by a burning sensation… just like heartburn.

So I dunno WTF. I guess all I can do is watch the situation closely for some kind of more definitive sign of cardiac distress, and hope for the best.

It’s like my ailments are as elusive and hard to pin down as I am.

Hell, even my veins are flighty, and try to hide from needles. Doesn’t work though, the nurses find them anyhow.

I was proud of myself when I went for the testing last Friday, though, as I was able to point the lab tech at the exact spot on the inside of my right elbow where there is a very good vein for her to use,

And boy, did she use it. She must have taken at least 12 vials of blood. Made me wish I had glanced at the lab req before handing it to Lifelabs.

Like, how many tests did she order?

And the tech was oddly firm about me filling the pee bottle too. That’s never happened to me before. Usually they mark a spot about an inch from the bottom of the container and tell me I only need to fill it to there.

Dunno WTF is up with THAT.

Oh, and a confession : I confidently told them I had fasted, and then when I sat down, I remember that I had forgotten to fast.

Had breakfast just like normal. Annoyed grunt.

So that fasting a1c is going to be a wee bit high. Oops. I forgot not to eat, then I forgot that I forgot.

My absentmindedness has gone meta.

I thought about telling the LifeLabs people about my error while I was there, but I was far too timid for that.

I mean, I have trouble working up the nerve to ask a waitress where the bathroom is. Telling a stranger that I had made a very foolish mistake – two of them , actually – was just not in my emotional vocabulary that day.

Social anxiety is a bitch. I know deep down that I have no reason to be so scared. I’m articulate, charming, and personable. All the bad stuff happens entirely in my head.

But that satanic circus in my head sure can kick up a fuss.

More after the break.

Against the thaw

But um, not THAT thaw.

I’m still all for the thawing out of my heart and my emotions so that I can be a real person, humanity intact and truly alive, at long last.

In fact I wish I could speed that one up. This glacial pace is killing me. Literally.

And I am working on it. Any time I feel like I have energy to spare, energy that would normally go to waste, I direct it into the giant space laser melting its way down my cold and fragile heart.

Must remember : I am not my ice. The ice is not me. I am a real live actual human being , with the pulse and stents and diabetic neuropathy to prove it!

It’s probably not good that those are things I chose as testimony to my viability.

I am not my ice and my ice is not a part of me, so the ice can melt away and die and it has no effect on who I truly am except to free it.

Me and me are getting the hell out of here, you dig?

As long as I remember that I am not my ice, I can blast away at it with gay abandon, and hopefully speed up my release.

And when all other power sources fail, I will remember my rage.

Yes, my rage. The ever burning clean radiant heat of all the righteous anger it has taken me more than a decade to finally get aimed where it belongs : at my depression itself.

Die, you unholy hobgoblin of the mind. I can’t believe I used to think you were me.

When I think about it, a lot of the most productive things I have done in my life have been fueled by my being pissed off.

Including writing an entire play just because the jerks at Samuel French (play publishers) wouldn’t release the rights ot the play I wanted to do.

Not a standard solution, but very very me.

So anger can be a productive force, and not just senselessly and abusively destructive like it was with my late father.

Repeat until believed. I get the feeling that this is a lesson I will have to really pound into my head in order to make it stick.

Otherwise it will just get washed away in the tide like everything else.

So I must remember : anger GOOD. Use it to get things done. Use it to melt through te ice that forms on my intentions and freezes me out. Use it to shock myself back to life like a defibrillator for the soul.

I am beyond worrying about pain. I want more life, fucker. That’s all that matters to me now. If that hurts, fine. Pain tells you you’re alive.

Now I just need to treat my fear the same way.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.