Yet Another Rabbit Hole

My street is under construction and I am not sure that I can get out of my driveway.

The DPW told me to park on a side street, but they ticket on side streets after 2 a.m. . . . and it's a giant pain in the ass.

I'm going to the infectious disease center to hopefully find out what I have and to see a real live doctor . . . I have a migraine and I'm afraid to take anything, lest thinning my blood more. They poked me three times yesterday, four times the day before. Let's see if we can go for five today.

So I'm cranky. Very, very cranky. I want off the drugs. They aren't making me better. And due to the nature of antibiotics, I'm not sure that I can safely stop the drugs. Also, if I get something else . . . say, a sinus infection . . . now that I have the strongest antibiotics in my system, what do I do next? And I'm still in pain and I'm realizing that no one cares about that. They just see pain as part of the business. And if I catch something else from all these old people coughing and oozing and bleeding . . .

I should have just taken the oral antibiotic from the crazy lady that wouldn't spend more than five seconds with me. Because much like an Alice in Wonderland adventure, the deeper I get into this the weirder and worse it gets. The last doctor basically took a long time to tell me that I was dirty and fat. That I should put my clothing in a hamper and exercise (nevermind that I biked 18 miles the weekend before) and that I was sure to get diabetes. Just a matter of time. If I didn't have it already. (I don't. Already went through that rabbit hole in January.) And I just want to yell "F**K OFF" to these people.

So hopefully the report will come back clean . . . and it's just a allergic reaction to a bug bite . . . and I will stop all the drugs and stop feeling like I drank paint thinner and be able to take a normal poop. I miss pooping. Never thought I would. And don't think too hard about what I do instead of pooping.

Okay, I have to go eat. Just in case they keep me for another five hours. I'm bringing a sweatshirt (sooo cold when they shoot saline through your veins), knitting (although I can't move one of my arms, but I figured I'd try), water (so thirsty all the time), a book and a bad attitude. Wish me luck . . .