Eating seemed like a good idea.
Around noonish today, I was feeling fairly good, so I decided that would be the right time to go to the kitchen and get myself some food.
I figured that if eating made me feel worse, tough. At least I would get some nutrition into me. I didn’t feel like eating, but I made myself do it anyway.
Plus my esophagus and stomach were feeling very acidic so I figured it would be a good idea to put something in me for that acid to work on.
The good news is, it stayed down.
But other than that, it made me feel worse. I got this weird sickly-warm feeling that started in my guy but slowly spread through my body. I became quite prone to dizziness, to the point where so much as turning my head makes the room wobble a tiny bit. And with that wobble, big or small, comes a surge of nausea.
Even more disturbing, though, is this heaviness of limb and sluggishness of circulation I am feeling. I feel very “off” in a way that makes me very nervous and it is clear to me that the time for equivocation is over and it is time for me to go to the ER.
But how do I get there when I can barely make it to the bathroom and back?
The obvious answer would be 911. I call them, some healthy young people show up and put me on a stretcher and take me to the ER.
But what do I even tell the 911 person at this point? I’ve been through so many phases with this mysterious ailment that I would have no idea what symptoms to even talk about. I’ve gone from incontinence and diarrhea on Friday and Saturday to agitation and splitting headaches on Sunday and Monday to this bizarre new permutation that I am not even sure how to convey.
The other possibility would be getting Julian to drive me to the hospital. Who knows, maybe they can put me and Joe in the same room, ha ha.
Honestly, for all I know, he’s already home. Wouldn’t that figure.
I will figure this out. I definitely feel a strong need to have medical people take a look at me. Shit has been going down that is NOT NORMAL.
And who knows, maybe this is all just a severe case of dehydration and a few hours on IV fluids will fix me right up.
I’ve been trying to keep up with hydration but it’s tricky when you have no idea whether it’s even safe to stand up or not.
Right now I seem to be in a “better” period. I am even a tiny bit hungry, which is nice. Hydrating and taking a Naproxen (generic Aleve) seems to have gotten me to some sort of point of stability. So now would be a good time to make a break for it, whether it’s via Julian or 911.
But now, of course, because I am a man without character, my resolve is wavering. Because I don’t waaaaana go to the hooooospital. It’s boooooooring there. I want to stay here with my compuuuuuter!
I am such a child. But there’s some good reasons for that.
There’s also another weird angle : last time I put pants on, I had to take them off almost immediately because my legs immediately started to overheat like crazy.
Serious. It felt like they would stifle.
So I guess my only hope for a pantsless trip to the ER would be 911. I mean, I’m sure they wouldn’t exactly turn me away at the door for not meeting the dress code, I would like to retain what tiny shreds of dignity I retain.
So I dunno. Knowing my own spinelessness, I will now completely forget about going to the ER or UC and go back to my usual lifestyle until I either get better or drop dead.
I guess I’d rather live.
After all, I still have almost $50 saved up on my Steam account and $120 on my Amazon.a account to spend.
So ya know. I got commitments. Things to see. People to do. And so on.
More after the break.
Well I ate
Ergo, I now feel terrible.
But this too shall pass. The food will make it past the hernia and then things will go back to being sort of okay for a while.
I really do need to get to the ER or UC. Sure, I don’t wanna go, but sometimes you have to do the grownup thing and make yourself do something.
I’ve had to do that remarkably little in my weak and herniated little life.
I sometimes wonder if my problem is that I’ve had it far too easy in life. Things like school came to me so easily that I never had to learn to overcome myself.
I find myself thinking about the idea of traveling through Europe as a college aged kid a lot lately. Or something equally adventurous.
I think I grasp how such a thing can help you “find yourself”. Having to deal with a whole new continent all by yourself and survive by your wits must make people have to reach down deep and draw on their true selves.
Sitting on your ass playing video games all day, on the other hand, requires jack shit. So I have been able to stay so deeply and fundamentally underdeveloped.
I always seem to have people to deal with reality for me around, too. Good people who are willing to deal with a troublesome but charming critter like myself and who seem to think that all the hassle is ultimately worth it.
This is what I mean when I say, “it’s a good thing I’m cute”.
I guess I keep hoping I will just… get better. Than my body will catch up with whatever the fuck is going on and I’ll be able to go back to normal.
Oh well. At least I won’t take “normal” for granted again for a while.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.