Decisions, decisions…

So, yesterday was pretty much the worst day I’ve had in a long time.  I had zero sleep, been so nauseous, I can’t hold down my meds, lost ten pounds in a week, hallucinating, and have trouble/shallow breathing.  So, good thing I was going to my immunological disease clinic for labs and lab review and anything else she could throw at me.

Well, my liver enzymes are rising.  What that means, because I have Hep C AND HIV, thanks Dave!  I had to do Interferon.  For those of you that don’t know what Interferon is, it’s like chemo for your liver to eradicate the Hep C.  You take these horrid pills- I used to call them my chemo pills twice a day.  Made me so nauseous, I couldn’t keep anything down.  So, I learned to take em at night, right?  Then, once a week, you have to give yourself an injection of this Interferon shit. It Interferes with your body, dig?  So, I did it for like four or six months, but here’s the deal, well, two:  It’s supposed to eradicate/cure the Hep C and then it makes you bat shit crazy.  I mean, BAT.  SHIT.  NUTS.  It doesn’t matter if you have a mental health history or not, it will drive you, literally, insane.  And it did me. I was doing it during the criminal trial with Dave. This one one computer troll called me, “fat”.  I was like, that’s Interferon buddy. Let’s see if you can put a serial infector in prison, stand up for yourself and others (How many we don’t exactly know, somewhere in the thousands we guess), stop a health epidemic, stand up to an abusive, drug abusing, sex addicted, satan-worshipping ex, and do interferon.  Fuck you.  When you pay my bills, we’ll have some thing to talk about.

Anyways, I told my NP, Edna, I wasn’t doing Interferon again.  It’s akin to suicide.  Liver cancer or something.  She says it’s fatty.  But the Interferon never cured the Hep C.  I had to break it to my mom.  Not easy.

And then?  Labs.  And my last two Hep B vaccines.  So, I go down to the lab- which was packed.  And she takes these three tubes out of a specially sealed packages, TB, Meningitis and another one I couldn’t read.  So, I look up TB symptoms on the web.  Anthony.  Just got out of Prison- an institution, half way house, Pine Rest.  All a lot of people crammed into little bitty living spaces.  Bastard.  So, my mom came over with a kerchief on yesterday.  Looked like Clint Eastwood’s mom.  Had to call people and tell them to get tested or checked out for TB.  Because I was possibly exposed.  Humiliating.

September 8, 2015 8:53 am

So, how was your Labor Day?  I spent mine between my couch and bed.  No one called from the lab.  No one called from the doc office.  I called this morning and left a msg with the nurse.  I was hallucinating Friday night before bed.  I’ve finally been able to eat today.  Because I haven’t eaten in a few days, I’ve been pigging out.  And shopping.  And having PTSD episodes.

Did I mention I have a new part?  He’s a part of a part of a part- yes that is possible.  His name is Zachary.  He is four.  He has a door with a latch on it with more cult memories.  I’m like, is this shit is ever going to end?  My therapist is gone, out on medical leave.  I won’t see her till the 18th of this month.  WTF, am I supposed to do?  I’m busting out every coping skill and skill I know.  I gotta call the DBT therapist today.  Cuz I need to deal with this.  I’m all emo brain and my meds need to be tweaked.  I see him today.  At three.  So, we’ll see how that goes.  I want off the Geodon, back on Saphris so I can sleep and I can go back on Tramadol for my pain.  That stuff works.  That damned Norco was bullshit.  No more Opiates again.  No more.  Never again- unless I have surgery and it’s all monitored and controlled.

Well, I better get going.  Gratitude is an action.  Need to clean and organize the sacred spaces.  The matching night stands come today for the bedroom.  Gotta get my poop in a group, but I can only go so fast.  you know?

Have a good day, y’all!!!!

So, that’s the health drama- with the HIV, I have about one a year.  But, I met a new part- Zachary, 4 year old boy. Part of Vicky, wj=ho is the other side/part of Vickie.  Great.  1 o’clock two nights ago, he had his toolbelt on and was ready to make our meditsation corner.  I’m like, bud, not now.

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