Back on antibiotics. Its rough.
(What’s another word for “very” that doesn’t seem like an extraneous/insipid word for “more?” Note to self: look that up.)
I am tired. Very.
I am waiting to see what blood work says about cancer markers (this indicates the cancer is growing/spreading). No matter how relaxed I choose to be, I feel concerned about those results. They likely won’t be completed and ready to see until tomorrow. Almost a nail biter. But I choose to be relaxed about it. Right?
There’s good news though.
I am grateful to say that doctors have finally taken note of the fact that there’s “something wrong with my immune system.” That’s in the order of “no shit Sherlock!” A lifetime of chronic ____ has taught me that. Pfffft! Depending on the decade we speak of (going on five now), there’s a specific list of chronic infections or allergic reactions which have cast a dark cloud on my life and happiness. To be fair, I have had either military doctors (who are of the “suck it up” frame of mind) or random clinic doctors who are overworked and not paying close attention. They approach medicine like an emergency doc- treat ’em and street ’em -or rather, treat the symptoms and move on to the next. This is not to mention the doctors who didn’t like my insurance and so shuffled me out the door as soon as possible- not long enough to listen obviously. Then there’s the doctors who told me I needed counseling- that its all in my head. I have a very cynical viewpoint of doctors in general as a result; especially about the doctor who treated me to ongoing rounds of antibiotics and diflucan for a year, but never did anything. (raps on a knot-head who should have done something then!) Numb-fuck!
So, they (a whole new set of doctors with better observation and listening skills) have decided there’s something wrong with my immune system. That may sound terrible, but it’s not. The terrible part is knowing this for twenty-five years and having it ignored while I am sick, sick and more sick. The even worse part was having it be so disabling for no good fucking reason, except some people aren’t doing their jobs. No, this conclusion doctors have reached is the very (there’s that word again) good part. Once they made up their minds about this, they immediately wanted me to see another specialist. That additional specialist’s job will be to discover just how my immune system is broken and do something about it. So I’m going to get another doctor whose job it is to fix this problem finally.
I have my initial appointment tomorrow with this specialist. *sigh of relief*
I am so grateful.
I can’t wait to see what happens. I am hopeful…so hopeful. It would be lovely…. marvelous… wonderful (yes I’m thinking the song since its so expressive)… to not feel like this every other year. Or maybe for two or three years running, if I’m particularly unlucky.
I looked up “very.” Its a stupid word. One really should just describe better. However, I am too tired to do so.
I need a nap…
I also need to be doing a shit load of school work. I have to revise 5-7 annotations, which are 2-4 pages each, plus evaluate my semester given certain criteria (another 2 pages) and then write an outline of how I am editing my poems (which I haven’t felt well enough to do yet) and give an example or two of those revised poems (5-7 pgs).
I only have mental energy for mulling which books I consider the most influential to the evolution of my poetry and which of my poem(s) I could effectively revise in the time I have left which will give the best example of applying what I’ve learned.
My mulling mind and I need a nap.
Yes. I have noticed that I am procrastinating. I most certainly noticed that I have only a week to do all this work. I have noticed that I am spinning my wheels.
I need a nap.