Monday, December 03, 2001

LONG DAY

Man, well I went to the doctor today. Apparently I only catch viruses. But this doctor wasn't sure so she gave me zithromax... which I had to drop 51 bones on, because they "can't bill cobra". Since our company was bought out, Cobra has taken over our insurance stuff. I had to pay for the medicine full on, then submit my receipt to Cobra to be paid back. What a pain in the ass. My doctor thinks I may have a light case of mono. (is that how it's spelt? Mononeucleosis...) My glands and throat are swollen, and sore; I feel like SHIT! I am sooo tired, but hopefully this medicine will help. Incidentally, since I've been sick I haven't been wearing makeup or doing my hair. I also haven't been pushing my nose screw back into place; you see, a nose screw is a really long earring stud. they bend it so it doesn't come out easily, and generally stays in place. Unfortunately, after the swelling went down, I needed to go back and have the bent part tightened up. I haven't had time to do it lately, and so if I don't push the end way back and hook it as far back as possible, it has a tendency to hang out of my nostril. Looking like a big ol' gold booger. This can be embarassing, and I don't hook it when I'm sick because it hurts to blow my nose. (sorry if this is grossing you out) Anyway, after the doctor looked me over, and took some throat cultures, and left the room, I happened to get a glimpse of myself in the paper towel dispenser. I had forgotten to hook it, and there it was, in all it's glory, hanging out of my nose. I wanted to die. How embarassing, I felt like an ass. Anyway...

You know what's wierd? Lately I have been coming to the realization that I am living my life on some level of denial. Lately I find myself forgetting that my dad has not always been in a wheelchair... that my grandma has passed away... I live it, but I don't think about it... oh yeah, my dad had a stroke. A STROKE. His stroke is what runs my life... it's not his fault, but it's the reason and cause for a lot of different things. I get so numb to that fact that I forget about it, I forget he was independent for 48 years. I forget he once worked for a living, that he used to feed ME. I see my grandma's picture, and sometimes it's a blow, to remember that she's not here anymore. I grieve silently for her; because I've learned that crying gets you nowhere with a headache, and fast. It sucks.

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