frustrated
So sick and tired of being sick and tired. Going from back wrenching constipation to blood drenched diarrhea (finally I can spell that disgusting word) and from anemia to pain exhaustion. Sit all day desperately trying to find something that will engage me bigger than the pain and maybe give me a sense of accomplishment or value. Naturally the latter eludes me. Even healthy it generally does.
Worse yet, my constant scanning of social network news feeds for distraction exposes me to comments fields. It's gotten steadily uglier out there. There used to be one or two jerks per field, talking like fools or children, trying to aggravate others, or just plain so stupid you wonder what country they're really from?
Somehow, though, they've increased exponentially. They're extremely political too, and angry about anything. the ugly is depressing. I fight back now and then, but it's about like spitting on a forest fire. I find myself wondering if these people were always out there or if there's more of them than ever. I pray the former and fear the latter. Then if they're not new, maybe their new access to the global conversation can enlighten them. I guess I understand better why Buddha wants to enlighten others to whatever degree possible. Even if you don't open their inner eye, just getting them to think once in a while would be a great victory. These masses aren't unwashed anymore, but they're just as stupid and sheeplike as ever. Only they're more like goats, really. Nowhere near as placid or useful as sheep. They certainly are getting fleeced, though.
So friday/saturday saw me bleeding phenomenal amounts. I don't know if there was anything but blood and blood clots going on but I am sure the toilet took far more than you give at a donor drive. I immediately swung from that to iron clad constipation with inflammation. What? I'm not eating anything that anyone has ever labled as allergenic. Not anything. I feel despairing about it, really. Hopeless, scared, wishing it would kill me if it won't go away.
I also spend inordinate amounts of time worrying about how to cope if I land in hospital. How to cope with the other humans, a skill I utterly fail every time. Trying to mentally rehearse, somehow, some magic way of behaving or speaking that will prevent being bullied. Trying to imagine how to cope if they don't like me using the toilet, or waking up in pain and stretching. Or what will the food be like? Will I sleep at all? Will I get in trouble for disturbing others with my suffering? How will I sleep in that bed without my collection of pillows to prop myself just right? Will they just pump me full of sleeping pills and pain killers and I'll be able to just sleep it away? What will those meds do to my belly? So many fears I can't calm down without convincing myself that it'll never happen. Dan won't take it seriously enough to make me go. I sometimes think I should just impulsively go because in my heart I believe nothing short of surgery is going to fix me. But then I quail at the thought of the tests, the colonoscopy, the interviews, the time spent waiting in a curtained bed just listening to everyone's hushed tones or suffering sounds. Rushing to use toilets. Will I always be able to get into the toilet when I need to? If not, will I get in trouble for being impatient or even scolded for crapping my pants if I can't hold it?
I always get treated like a drug addict by doctors and nurses. They take one look at me and lable me in their minds. I'm there to get a fix. If not drugs, then attention. I'm hypochondriac if I"m not a drug addict (which becomes apparent soon as I'm not and I don't seek drugs.) One way or another, they lable me a faker when I walk in the door and there's just no treatment forthcoming unless the problem is so acute I can't hide the misery. I try because if the misery isn't that acute, they treat me like a bad actor in an audition.
So here I sit, too afraid of the professionals who should look after me, unable to progress any further on my own.
Worse yet, my constant scanning of social network news feeds for distraction exposes me to comments fields. It's gotten steadily uglier out there. There used to be one or two jerks per field, talking like fools or children, trying to aggravate others, or just plain so stupid you wonder what country they're really from?
Somehow, though, they've increased exponentially. They're extremely political too, and angry about anything. the ugly is depressing. I fight back now and then, but it's about like spitting on a forest fire. I find myself wondering if these people were always out there or if there's more of them than ever. I pray the former and fear the latter. Then if they're not new, maybe their new access to the global conversation can enlighten them. I guess I understand better why Buddha wants to enlighten others to whatever degree possible. Even if you don't open their inner eye, just getting them to think once in a while would be a great victory. These masses aren't unwashed anymore, but they're just as stupid and sheeplike as ever. Only they're more like goats, really. Nowhere near as placid or useful as sheep. They certainly are getting fleeced, though.
So friday/saturday saw me bleeding phenomenal amounts. I don't know if there was anything but blood and blood clots going on but I am sure the toilet took far more than you give at a donor drive. I immediately swung from that to iron clad constipation with inflammation. What? I'm not eating anything that anyone has ever labled as allergenic. Not anything. I feel despairing about it, really. Hopeless, scared, wishing it would kill me if it won't go away.
I also spend inordinate amounts of time worrying about how to cope if I land in hospital. How to cope with the other humans, a skill I utterly fail every time. Trying to mentally rehearse, somehow, some magic way of behaving or speaking that will prevent being bullied. Trying to imagine how to cope if they don't like me using the toilet, or waking up in pain and stretching. Or what will the food be like? Will I sleep at all? Will I get in trouble for disturbing others with my suffering? How will I sleep in that bed without my collection of pillows to prop myself just right? Will they just pump me full of sleeping pills and pain killers and I'll be able to just sleep it away? What will those meds do to my belly? So many fears I can't calm down without convincing myself that it'll never happen. Dan won't take it seriously enough to make me go. I sometimes think I should just impulsively go because in my heart I believe nothing short of surgery is going to fix me. But then I quail at the thought of the tests, the colonoscopy, the interviews, the time spent waiting in a curtained bed just listening to everyone's hushed tones or suffering sounds. Rushing to use toilets. Will I always be able to get into the toilet when I need to? If not, will I get in trouble for being impatient or even scolded for crapping my pants if I can't hold it?
I always get treated like a drug addict by doctors and nurses. They take one look at me and lable me in their minds. I'm there to get a fix. If not drugs, then attention. I'm hypochondriac if I"m not a drug addict (which becomes apparent soon as I'm not and I don't seek drugs.) One way or another, they lable me a faker when I walk in the door and there's just no treatment forthcoming unless the problem is so acute I can't hide the misery. I try because if the misery isn't that acute, they treat me like a bad actor in an audition.
So here I sit, too afraid of the professionals who should look after me, unable to progress any further on my own.