0
Well.
Posted by Slowplum
on
7/16/2008 03:02:00 PM
in
anger,
insomnia,
irony,
medical insanity,
stress,
summer
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
I'm back at square one, with nobody knowing what is wrong with me, and therefore unable to help. I've been put on amitriptyline to help me get some rest at night; unfortunately, it is making me groggy during the day as well. I'm being referred to an ENT specialist, a back specialist, and possibly another neurologist because the first one was - I don't even have words for what he was.
The possibility of my going back to work on modified hours is now looming over me, and I am actually happy about it for the most part. Mentally I need this. I need not only to have something new and outside of myself to focus on, but I need to feel useful. I need to contribute. I'm not the type that likes to sit at home and feel sorry for myself. I am frustrated, yes. I am exasperated, yes. I have been doing my utmost to refrain from complaints because, frankly, complaints aren't worth anybody's time. And they don't get you very far. There are people out there in much greater need of help than I am - I am not so self-centered as to believe the world must spin around me and my worries. Whether I am physically ready for this is another story altogether, but I am nothing if not tough.
In the meantime, the bellows of my lungs continue to pump air through my body, although sometimes they falter. The little muscles and valves in my heart click and pull and do the job they are meant to do, pumping life through me, again only pausing for a break now and again. I keep convincing myself that one day I will wake up, fully functioning, and looking at this as some horrific dream. And every morning, I trick myself into it, until little by little it all comes crashing down. All the king's horses...
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
I'm back at square one, with nobody knowing what is wrong with me, and therefore unable to help. I've been put on amitriptyline to help me get some rest at night; unfortunately, it is making me groggy during the day as well. I'm being referred to an ENT specialist, a back specialist, and possibly another neurologist because the first one was - I don't even have words for what he was.
The possibility of my going back to work on modified hours is now looming over me, and I am actually happy about it for the most part. Mentally I need this. I need not only to have something new and outside of myself to focus on, but I need to feel useful. I need to contribute. I'm not the type that likes to sit at home and feel sorry for myself. I am frustrated, yes. I am exasperated, yes. I have been doing my utmost to refrain from complaints because, frankly, complaints aren't worth anybody's time. And they don't get you very far. There are people out there in much greater need of help than I am - I am not so self-centered as to believe the world must spin around me and my worries. Whether I am physically ready for this is another story altogether, but I am nothing if not tough.
In the meantime, the bellows of my lungs continue to pump air through my body, although sometimes they falter. The little muscles and valves in my heart click and pull and do the job they are meant to do, pumping life through me, again only pausing for a break now and again. I keep convincing myself that one day I will wake up, fully functioning, and looking at this as some horrific dream. And every morning, I trick myself into it, until little by little it all comes crashing down. All the king's horses...