A weekend of waiting . . .
I got in touch with the doctor’s office. Currently I have no doctor, so I’m kind of floating around to different available doctors. They wouldn’t tell me anything on the phone, I have to go in to talk about my results. My mom says they wait for you to have a major attack, where you’re like, barfing and peeing at the same time and feel like you’re going to die! And THEN they finally do surgery on you. Oh man! I hate pain. I mean, especially thinking you are going to die. I HAVE thought I was going to die a few times when I was getting panic attacks in college.
But all this fuss, and just knowing it is coming, and having to change my diet, oh man. I’m really NERVOUS about that. And then surgery itself, that scares me. But at the same time I imagine my poor ducts and something getting stuck in there, aaaah!
And I have to get a Partial Nail Avulsion on this ingrown toenail, which is a pretty gross sounding procedure. But someone I know had it and it’s not that bad. I just don’t know if Indian Affairs can pay for it.
I also have to go get my prescription changed, but that won’t cost me any money. In fact, if I had Air Miles I could save up for Berlin!
Ein biere bitte!
I’m getting tired of castigating myself for things all the time. I have to get my head together. It’s just that these changes I wanted to make haven’t happened yet. I wrote all about them on Bipolar and Disorderly. Now I’m depressed and smoking again. I’m taking a break from drugs and alcohol for a while. Although summer always feels like a party time. But realistically if I want to keep on top of this crazy incurable bipolar disorder, I have to stay away from doing that stuff. Even just having a few beers is bad because it’s a depressant, and lord knows I don’t need more of that in my life.
And now I might have to get SURGERY! I hope none of the drugs they gives me interferes with my bipolar disorder medication. Like my risperdone will wake me up on the operating table. Ickky!
And what about this crushing depression? It’s so fucking gross and makes me think bad things. I know it’s going away, it feels like it’s going away. But it’s still a while before regular life is breathed back into me. At least a week longer.
Summer of Health Problems! Craptastic!