Archive for March, 2015

I’m sick as hell and my chest is on fire. 

I did not think this a serious problem, because I was having diarrhea all over the place.  I also wanted to barf, but being a professional emetophope, of course that did not occur.

Check temperatures, as I started to better after only a few sips of water to a half bottle to try and rehydrate somewhat.

When I get sick, all lactose and sugars are out the window.  That’s a problem.  Not much I can put in me–even if I want to eat anyway.

My Immune System says to any Virus or Bacterial Infection I get, “Yea! Let’s keep this party going guys!!!”

Apparently my invitation was delivered to the wrong address, or if I got one it wasn’t printed correctly.

Why am I simultaneously freaking out and getting angry? The temperatures I’ve been taking.  Today it went from a degree above normal.  Now it’s 101°F.

Oh, big deal, take something to lower it.  I can try and I am, but once it starts moving (and very fast!) to 102°F…103°F…  I’m cooked.

Bad pun with burning lungs.  Sorry, completely unintentional.

It will eventually get near to 104°F by my thermometer even if it differs by a degree by the paramedics and/or hospital.  Moreover, the problems still exist.

One fun problem is being placed in Isolation.  They have no clue what’s going on with you for certain, therefore get the person away from everyone else!!! She could be septic with some kind of something!!!

However, mentioning sepsis is a good thing.  A fever at 104°F or getting to it or possibly over it means, “I could die.  Even right this second.  Would it be too much trouble for you to monitor me?”

I think one time I was getting close 105°F.  I couldn’t get a proper read as I continued along.  That’s nuts!

Kids, if this happens it will be the FIFTH time!!! Over the course of 2-3yrs. O_o

During the last time, I was actually admitted to the Respiratory Department.  I have a wonderful Specialist there.  The last time wasn’t too long ago.  Let me be a bit of a puzzle for him this time, should I end up there again?

I fucking sleep either.  This always happens too.   Well, just take my meds anyway and wake up in perfect condition.

This is such an ongoing saga (okay, maybe three weeks?) but it feels like three decades–or longer–when you’re playing in a sandbox.

I fail to see how this Post will be therapeutic.  I saw my Therapist today about the whole thing and I’m still breaking down, freakin’ out.  I had to see Sweetie GP afterward and I was downright hostile.

I apologized but still continued yelling pieces of the situation where she was looking at me very concerned but extremely confused.

On the way home I emailed my Therapist to tell Sweetie GP allllllll about it.  Sweetie GP wants to help me, Therapist or not.

Then when I got home, call to Sweetie to contact Therapist about all of this shit! Two way communication is better.

And I still haven’t told you about…THIS SHIT!!!

My (male) cousin and I have been talking for several years after never seeing each other in about 20 as he lives in a different part of the country.

He wanted to talk to my sister (contacted in never how long ago?) She was so happy to talk to him after so long! Cool, right?

*pause for readers who can’t see where I’m headed*

A Truly Bizarre Love Triangle.  And I ain’t fooling you around there in some cases.  No.  Not jerking you you around or your chain.

All of the sudden, they’re thick as thieves and my sister is referring to any piece of information (like a dog to a bone) it’s always stated in the plural.

WE think… US feel…

He no longer talks to me other than a surprisingly, benign txt.  If I take one step out of line where my sister DOES NOT AGREE WITH she becomes the most cruel bitch you could imagine.

And she’s done it regarding all of this.

“I don’t believe in any of this Asperger’s and neurotpical! It’s just an excuse! Because you’re selfish! You’re selfish! You’ve been that way ever since you were a child.  Everything always has to be about you!”

That was only one of many calls.  Although, there were the cheerful ones too.

I knew they were talking about me as soon as I gave him her number.  At that point, all communication I had with him immediately ceased. 

You can only hold up the, “We’re so happy to be reunited after so long!” facade for SO long.

And I’m not as dense as I always appear to be.  Eventually THEY… got dense enough to give me proof.

I took a jump off a cliff to try and trick my sister to admit they were talking about me.  DENSE!!!

So here I am now.  I can only have light and funny conversations with my sister.  Anything she deems inappropriate, I’ll get blasted.

She holds me captive in other ways too.  They both do.  The speaking in plural.  He is hers, he never stands up for anything.  He clearly didn’t for me.

So not to bleed all over the screen once more, I’ve now lost MY cousin too.

As they go off into their own little world… telling me, “We don’t want to hurt you…”

I am now treating my PTSD by Communing with the Gods of Vodka.

Can you blame me? If you can, please tell me later.  I’m a little tired of blame right now.  Thanks.

I like to do this in front of people who are really drunk.  It has maximum effect that way.

Sure, I walk around with a cane but you know what happens when people get drinking.  Inhibitions break down, sometimes walls break down (even with me but neither here nor there for this Post.)

So I’m out at the pub and I just picked a perfect random perfect moment.  Actually, it has to be “perfect” based upon the people, conversation etc.

I’ll go up to them and say, “I don’t know if I’m that flexible but…”

I’ll whip my right leg with my arms holding it, almost over my head.  I just did it now.

Immediately from one guy I heard, “That’s sexy!”

I mean, this is so crazy! I do some pseudo-gymnastic move, having had alcohol or not and the effect?

The drunk men go totally, sexually nuts! The women are really impressed and can go sexually nuts too.

All because I just lifted my leg a bit higher than most might be able to do? And I don’t even know how I can do it?

Okay.  Right.  Whatever.

I said on Twitter yesterday, without any Internet at home, Blogging from my phone was just too tedious. 

Well, maybe not.  If I feel some Primordial Urge to write a Post, if I only have my phone, it will be used.

My Title.  I think I write about it twice every year when it happens.  People who are on the Spectrum–kids too! Go insane by changing a stupid clock an hour forward or backward.

No doubt everyone is blogging about their woes (REALLY FUCKING BAD WOES!) on this Day of Destruction.

I’m soooooooo messed up right now.  It hits me hard along with so many others.  So when I’m feeling better.  Write then? *gurgles*

Congrats to my friend!

I’m not talking about reeling in a fish and losing it.  No.  This phrase his a different meaning of which I think everyone knows.

That one true love that “got away.”

Did they really “get away?” And were they your “one true love” as well? What does that mean?

I think it means it’s a construct you have created in your own mind.  You have fallen “in love” (whatever that means as well) and you have become, at various points, a near slave to that construct.

That would mean you are possibility “pining” for that certain someone? That construct. Step back.  If you can.

Which I have never been able to do.  Or at least very well.

Maybe the one that got away is actually you.  You might have seen me leading up to this conclusion?

What to do? Nothing.  I’ve had several periods like like this, and the only balm is time.  Like a period of grief.  What if that doesn’t work?

It might take more balm, more time…and…the future unknown.  And yet, the future still being unknown, you might end up living in that construct for who knows how long?

I still live in my own constructs or a couple now.  Maybe not all the time but the women’s voices and laughter, and intimacy of course always come back to me.

And sometimes it almost haunts me.  I don’t want them to be anything that got away then.  I just want to hang on and be grateful for the time we had together.

That makes them ones that didn’t get away.  Even me too?

Written while listening to “Sweetest Perfection” by Depeche Mode.  Appropriately?