Today was too boring to be classified as a misadventure.
So, got my second Pfizer shot today. So far no side effects, knock on wood.
Was somewhat miffed that nobody asked me for my confirmation code. When I got my first shot, they acted like it was this big deal that I didn’t have it.
So for this shot, I carefully wrote it down.
But nobody gave a shit. Hmph. I guess this is all old hat to them now and that means they have figured out what parts of the process are actually important.
Turns out the damn confirmation code wasn’t.
Whatev. Point is, got the thing done. I am fully vaxxed, sorta.
Turns out that I am not truly fully one hundred percent vaxxed for double keen sure, no take backs until two weeks from now.
Well fuck that. I’m declaring myself immune via fiat.
When it came time to go, I found I had a choice : I could wear a pair of pants with one butt cheek reduced to threads, leaving it around half exposed in total, or I could wear one of my pairs of dress pants that require a suspender to keep them up.
I chose the dress.
Hey internet, how’d that turn out?
I had forgotten how much I fucking hate suspenders. I was quickly reminded on the way down to the car when the strap in the back gave out.
And let me tell you, there is nothing quite like having your ass suddenly hanging in the breeze followed one comedy beat later by being bapped on the head by the clasp that just failed you.
It’s a near perfect slapstick moment and hilarious as long as it’s not happening to you.
When it IS happening to you, it is rage inducing. Made me feel like I was going to have some kind of angry fat dude meltdown at any second.
Sorry you had to be there for my ranting and roaring, Julian. I hope you know that none of it was directed at you.
After the shot, there was the fifteen minute waiting period to make sure you aren’t having a serious reaction to it.
Then it was off to the hospital for the day’s IV antibiotics treatment.
It seems to be working. The lobster-red area on my led is much smaller than before. The “blood blister” area (that’s what the doc called it) that was swelling up so fast that it made me go to the ER seems to have healed some and it’s not “weeping” (that’s what the nurse called it) as much as before.
So we’re winning the war on that front at least.
I am supposed to see my cardiologist, Doctor Ebtia, tomorrow. But my heart ultrasound isn’t till Tuesday, So I am going to call and see if she wants to wait.
The heart ultrasound is at 7:15 in the frigging morning. Why do they always do these procedures early in the AM?
My theory is that they figure you’ll be sleepy and docile then.
They’re not wrong.
That will be it until August.
Unfortunate truth : I like being this busy. I like all the attention. I like being cared for.
In many ways, I’ve never been happier.
Sad, isn’t it?
More after the break.
On being awesome
I feel like I am remembering my own awesomeness more often lately.
At least in my imagination.
And that’s a hopeful sign. My journey to mental health requires developing some kind of healthy self-worth as a key ingredient in building a stable sense of self.
And I have a lot to be proud of. I have extraordinary gifts and a wonderful personality. I could be one heck of a big deal in this crazy world if I wanted to.
And I find it easier to imagine myself in such a role than ever. And that is super important because before I become something, I have to be able to dream it.
If I can “see” myself in a more successful and important role, I can move in that direction and, over time, my protean personality can slowly assume that shape.
And I can imagine being some kind of highly paid executive.
I make the big bucks because I have the big brain and know how to use it. My ideas and creations and strategies are top notch and everyone knows it. I’ve risen rapidly because everyone can plainly see that I am a natural leader and visionary and therefore the kind of guy who can make things happen at the executive level.
And so I have achieved my simple, innocent childhood dream of wanting to get paid to be smart all day.
That still sounds good to me, to be honest.
Increasingly, though, the idea of just being a writer seems too flat and dull to me. Whether I am writing screenplays or sci fi novels or television episodes, the idea of doing my work alone and sending it in and collecting a paycheck seems boring. \
I’d want to be more involved than that.
Then again, who knows. I might transform back into a hermit some day. And then I will wish I had stayed a writer.
Of course, i have to somehow get myself sane first.
I’m working on it. I am always gnawing on that icy wall of fear that cuts me off from the living world, trying to bring it down. Every day the glacier sitting on my heart melts a little more and I get that much closer to being a real little boy.
It’s a nonlinear process and therefore impossible to predict. All I can do is keep living my life and striving to resurrect myself in hopes of one day truly, truly waking up.
And when that day comes, I will finally emerge from my own shadow and walk in the sun and be a part of things instead of sitting on the sidelines.
That may or may not mean that I will be happy.
But at least I’ll be alive.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.