A reasonably good Christmas despite the bull shit

I wish life was easier. I wish I could have come over to Cairns with more of a care-free existence. I knew there would be problems, but how I wish there were less of them and less severe ones than these! My reason for not writing for the past month should be clear: The fact that I didn’t know where to start, don’t even know where to start now, and that I was ready to find out that my eye condition was finally put into remission for a good long while, only to have this hope taken from me like a stream takes a leaf from a child’s hand when they least expect it. I have had enough. I have fucking had it with my ophthalmologists giving me false hope all the time! Last time I wrote, I was in hospital taking painkillers, hoping this would be the last time for a few months that I’d need any treatment and surgery. Well, this will be the last time, since I am refusing surgery from now on unless it is really necessary. My anaesthetic reaction was moderately bad the first time, it was fucking horrible this time, even though the procedure was minor. Um, I’d expect to vomit non-stop if I’d had a heart bypass operation or something of that nature, or surgery on the stomach or some other major thing. But not from a simple eye procedure and an hour of anaesthesia. The fact that I didn’t rest enough is a problem, the fact that my grandparents got a kick out of seeing me vomit and suffer, and intentionally forced my vomiting episodes to intensify just to feel good that my stomach was wrecking any nutritional value that I’d put into it, knowing full well that I hadn’t swallowed anything bad, makes me want to spew up from distress right now and go to the hospital for treatment, and more treatment, and the cycle continues till they would want to jab me in the leg with a big needle, like they had to this last time. No I didn’t fall asleep, but I certainly missed most of the rest of the day and definitely stopped spewing up. Nan and Pop are never visiting me in hospital again unless I’m well enough to put up with their carry-on dramatic crap, continuous molly-coddling, etc. Hospital equals rest and move around easy, not get up and dance around drunken and vomiting like a fucking moll. I know that’s a bit exaggerated, but what normal person wants to get up and act normal when they feel like they’re going to be sick really bad, vomit, then act as if they’d never done it and just keep doing it? Certainly not me, and if I was that drunk and hung over to know differently at the time, why didn’t my dickhead grandparents discourage me from doing too much at too soon a time? No, because they enjoyed my pain, so long as they don’t have to enjoy their own pain. (Starting to get very bitter) Why do I do this to myself? Why do I enjoy sickness and pain for a few people’s entertainment, when in real life, in myself, in my soul, I really don’t actually enjoy it, much less do I want it?

My GP nearly called an ambulance on me last week. Oh I fucking wonder why! Because maybe I turned mad and wanted to be very stupid, so my O and M instructor rang the doctor, and I rang this doctor the next day and went mental about how my procedures didn’t work, and that I’ll only put up with severe reactions to anaesthetic if they’re less severe in comparison to reacting to life-threatening situations requiring the need for surgery. Something like getting mauled by a dog, which would make me vomit as much as an anaesthetic hangover would. That would make me believe that I wouldn’t want the hangover, but would take it as part of the pain just because I don’t want to die from a dog attack. So having to get a big jab after a life-saving operation to stop me from dying of refractory nausea, although not entertaining, enjoyable, tolerable etc, would nonetheless be understandable. But excuse me, my grandparents will not touch me when I’m sick, not ever again. Please don’t have me write more about this right now or I’ll start crying so bad that I’ll make myself sick. My eye, and now my left eye, is fucked, so I don’t want my distress from that to get worse again, adding to the distress that I would cause myself by writing more about this shit. I just needed to get it off my chest, so I don’t wish to dwell on it anymore because I’ve explained myself enough.

I went to the chemist last week to get Panamax and Panadeine Extra, and they’re really helping me with the pain. My distress symptoms because of my continuous eye pain and having to lay around and do nothing last week just to stay comfortable and not kill myself, is getting better every day. So I don’t want to ruin the progress I’ve made, or I’ll be in the hospital sooooo fast! My doctor has written me up as needing an ambulance if I fuck up just once, whether she or someone else calls them on me, so I don’t want to mess my health up even just a little. It feels like being on probation for committing a criminal offence, only this is a medical matter, not a criminal matter. There ain’t no way I want to fight with two paramedics over having to get a drip when I don’t actually need one right now, even though they’ll force me to get one in, and they’ll force me to wear oxygen and treat me like a dying person when it’s not necessary, just in case there’s the slightest chance that I might be dying and they want to jump in first. Ah no! I don’t want that in my life unless I know it’s necessary in my own heart. As much as I like my GP, I totally hate that she has put me under fucking medical supervision involving carting me off if she thinks anything is slightly bad enough. It’s all because of my fucking eye going bad again and causing me to get severe pain which makes me feel so stressed that eventually I start getting weak and each day gets worse. Of course with pain control I’m getting better, so I want to keep it that way. If my eye was fine and I was getting sick and distressed over other things that simply wears out after a time, nothing would be done. But since this eye condition doesn’t go away without treatment and needs medication as well to control the symptoms, all the distress that it causes wouldn’t go away, as you’d naturally be aware of. The pain would simply get worse and worse until the body gives way to it gradually.

So now I’m playing the waiting game, will see my GP in a couple of weeks, and will keep controlling my symptoms until she decides that it’s time to ring my ophthalmologist and have me admitted to hospital involuntarily. It’s stupid that they give me false hope, and they wonder why I’m not agreeing to surgery at all! These two times that I got admitted to hospital, I allowed it. This time, I’ll be fighting tooth and nail, even to the death, to get out of surgery. It doesn’t help me. My eye condition only stays in remission for no more than three months, and I find it a waste of my time and energy to put up with shit that doesn’t even benefit me. In fact the doctors are doing me more harm than good. They’re cleaning my eye out, but the problem isn’t being solved by doing that. I’ve noticed that medication has been the best treatment yet! As much as it’s not stopping my disease progression, it’s stopping the pain from getting out of control, and for now that’s better than what anyone could ask for. The GP knows I’m pissed off over this, so she’s going to put me off seeing them for as long as she can. But I have a hunch that eventually she’ll make me face them, and then I’ll be telling them in no uncertain terms that I want no surgery unless I’m kept awake, and I absolutely won’t tolerate any bull shit this time. Fix my eye or remove my eye. None of this mucking around fucking crap. They can’t say they’ll fix my pain, and then not do anything about it when my eye starts hurting again. That’s totally wrong. Their solution is to keep cleaning my eye out, but they take no consideration or any respect to the fact that my recovery from surgery is dangerous. I’d understand the dangerous recovery issues if my surgery involved saving my life or a limb, but not my eyes, which are useless to me. I don’t understand my ophthalmologists’ fucking illogical ideas and ideologies. They will certainly see their mistakes when/if my GP makes me go back to see them next time.

Now that I’ve gotten all that off my chest, I can talk about Christmas and happier things. Not much of my life has been happy lately, but at least I can visit my family every day and go out with them pretty much whenever I want. Me and Joshua aren’t talking though, we hate each other intensely at the moment. We just need to get over it. Until then we aren’t gonna talk to each other. My family wants us to, but too bad for them. They don’t live mine and Joshua’s lives. They’re a good help though, so that’s the main thing. As for my grandparents, when they’re gone, that’ll be two careless creatures that I don’t have to worry about. People who understand their own pain but care nothing for the same pain in others, they make me need to spew if I think of them for too long, they make me need to really want to kill such people as them. Since I’m already dealing with an eye disease that hurts intensely without pain medication, plus the symptoms associated with the agony, I don’t want to push myself over the edge by thinking about such horrible psychopaths. My grandparents are my family, but it doesn’t mean I have to like them. I’m only putting up with them for as much as I can tolerate them and no more.

I had a really good day. I didn’t let my grandparents spoil my mood when I was over there for three hours, so that’s a plus for me. I got a tactile chess set and an overnight travel bag. The bag is exactly what I need, I can even attach things to it if needed! I’m going to test its use on Saturday when I sleep at my aunty’s place. She told me to bring my swimmers so I can go swimming on the Sunday. That’ll be nice. She wants me to enjoy my life until the next hurdle comes up. It’ll be easier to jump it if I have people who enjoy giving me a helping hand instead of deliberately sabotaging me for entertainment purposes. Maybe that’s why I wanted to hurt myself really bad last week, knowing that I might accidentally die out of carelessness if I’d carried out my plans. My plan to get hurt and just go to hospital in a coma and stay that way could easily backfire on me anyway when it’s too late for me to know about it. But unfortunately I was so fuuuuuuuuuucking angry that it would have been too late for me once I’d worked that out. Ah, that’s where DR. A decided to ask a few too many questions and then force me to follow through with my plan of going to the chemist and only taking medication as instructed, otherwise if I hadn’t been so clear that I was only going to work with this plan, I would have been carted away faster than you could say “throw the stones” twice. Luckily I didn’t need an ambulance and still don’t need one. Since I have a short fuse with intolerable people in general, I may possibly run out of luck one of these days if I’m not careful. But that’s my bad luck since counselling only helps me temporarily. Once the coping strategies run out of power, I’m on my own again until something else is put in place. Hopefully my temper won’t make me push my luck too far. Since getting pain medication, I haven’t been too unlucky with my temper getting the better of me, so I think things are under control for now. As for my ophthalmologists, they’d better not push their luck with me.


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