Anxious

I’ve got my doctor’s appointment at 3:30 today. Tonight I’ll make another blog to let you know where I am. I hope I’ll be home, but I’m not liking my chances. A couple of hours ago, I took three nurofens and two Panamaxes. That’s how much pain I was in. If I wanted, I could’ve taken two Panadeine Extras with the three nurofens, but I chose to hold the Panadeine. I’ll take that this afternoon. The codeine won’t stop my eye pain totally, but it’ll make things a bit more bearable so to speak. Instead of crying when the doctors look at my eyes, I’ll be just complaining, which isn’t good, but is better than crying in pain. They’ll put local anesthetic in my eyes anyway, but no, I still feel a bit of pain. It simply feels more tingly with less of the agonising pain that I usually feel. I know I’m in deep shit with Dr. O today, but that’s not as frightful as refractory nausea. Well, when I say frightful, I don’t mean that he’ll be horrible as such, more that he’ll give this great spiel about how important it is for me to stick with the program, all sullen and angry like that, but not nasty and mean at the same time. He’s still understanding to a good degree though, so I can credit him for that! The only thing is, I’ve had it with the shit, and he’s gonna see that with the big frown I put on my face. So we’ll both be sullen and angry, just over different things, and sadly, we’ll never give in! I’ll want things my way, he’ll want things his way. Ultimately he’ll win a few more times before conceding to go with what I want, extremely begrudgingly. That’ll make me sad, but the good news about that is that I won’t need to take medicine forever. I can cope with pain without medicine if it’s not intolerable. Just get rid of my eye and it won’t be intolerable anymore, after something like four weeks of healing that is.

I had a lovely shower a while ago and washed my hair. I feel like a new person! My plan is to keep out of the heat as much as possible so I can get away with having a shower less often. If I’m stuck in the hospital, Nan will try to get me up and moving on her terms instead of on my terms, being that I’m the fucking patient. She’s a fucken ass hole when she wants to be. I’d love to make her vomit and then get her to get out of bed every half an hour and make her do small things like shower, brush her hair, etc, knowing that her vomiting will take longer to go away. Meanwhile, I’ll friggen smother her with back rubs and patting on the back, never leaving her alone etc, to the point that her discomfort is unbearable because back rubbing is nice, but never letting her have her own space, especially while she’s throwing up, will be so embarrassing and really painful because all she’ll want to do is rest and be left to her own devices. We’ll see how it feels for her, because remember, I’m retarded with no capacity to feel discomfort, but my pain tolerance is too low at the same time. I apparently love vomiting – (sarcasm intended), and would seriously like to make myself spew up just so someone rubs my back and carries on so I get worse (that’s a fucking lie hahahahaha). And… Let’s just assume that the doctors know whether I’ve had enough of my suffering! Oh that’s right! I know what it feels like to suffer. ha ha ha ha. And we’ll let them decide whether I need to stop spewing up or not. Um… Since when did God die to let someone else decide how comfortable or uncomfortable I am, and how much pain I will or won’t tolerate?

In the emergency room everything is rushed, so some things need to be borne just for a while. But when I already know what’s hurting me, instead of bossing me around, smothering me, telling me what to put up with, maybe giving me a bit of TLC would work better. Now, my brief point is, Nan will not be visiting me this time, and I will be deciding when I’m comfortable enough to get out of bed, have a shower etc. I’ll also decide when I need to press the call button for the nurses, what pain I will and won’t tolerate, what my normal way of fixing spewing up problems will be according to the situation, and how much of that I will or won’t tolerate. I’m telling you, one wrong move from my pathetic grandparents and I’m banning them from visiting me. Who cares if I’m seen as an ungrateful bitch. They forget that while they’re having a good time entertaining themselves with my suffering, they’re not actually feeling it so they love to assume that I feel good instead of asking questions. I really love them for that! Yeah. Ask God and he’ll tell you the truth… I’m about to blow my fuse, so let’s talk about something else.

My eye pain has settled down a bit. It’ll stay that way till about 2:30, then I’ll take Panadeine. It’s very sad that I came to Cairns to fight a fucking battle to save my eye, when really it’s gonna get the flick anyway. My cousin always tells me that she’s gonna get her little girl to teach me that women are strong. There’s some dance thing Ella does, some shit like that, to show that women are powerful. I really love the idea, because I’m gonna need some strength in the coming week. I’ve got lots of ginger ale in the cupboard, oh shit I need to put some in the fridge! I’ve also got coke as well. I’m gonna be drinking a lot of it over the next few days. I find it funny that people laugh at me when I tell them that I can drink a whole big bottle of ginger ale when I’m sick. Yet it’s true! I feel a lot better afterwards and can sleep it off. It’s not a hundred percent, but it works well enough that when I do struggle, it’s not so severe that it interferes with my ability to drink water properly. The ginger ale also buys me time to start eating again, because it makes my spewing up problems slow down a lot so I can recover from it better without getting too far behind with eating and drinking. I don’t really care who laughs at me or if they disagree with my approach to fixing spewing up issues. So long as I’m living a better quality of life in the end, that’s what counts. Since I’m a normal person and find it bad to spew, I like to actually fix my problems before they get worse. But we mustn’t forget that Nan’s life is always full of dramas because she never tries to fix the route cause of them because of whatever reason. Her favourite excuse is that her body is reacting to age, it used to be that her body is reacting to whatever situation, so she just can’t stop the issue so it’ll just magically go away if she ignores the problem and half-hearttedly relieves it. Um, that’s a disrespectful way to live, unless of course you’re like me and tries everything in their power to fix an issue until you realise that it’ll never go away, so you eventually put up with it. Fine. But Nan expects herself and others to just given in to the sadness in their life without even trying to help themselves to get over the issues at least to a large degree. To make things worse, Nan tries to push her ideas onto others and all that does to me now is get me wild and almost chucking a fit. She drives me fucking mad.

At least my cousin is a bit supportive, despite what Popsicle thinks of her. It’s ok for Pop to treat her like shit, but if she’s just a bit nasty according to his misperception of her actions towards him, he can tell her to get fucked. Well up his fucking ass. Up Nan’s fucken nose too, because she won’t even stand up to Pop when he gets mean, and she disrespects other people with no regard to the life of fellow humans or animals, except for her own life. And she wonders why nobody wants to talk to her or know her. If she’s like that, she’s also capable of murder. Mind you, I’m just as bad in that if I can defend myself by being horrible to stop her from disrespecting my dignity, I’m also capable of murder, but I happen to go with defending myself only, not killing someone because I’m bored or find pleasure from murder. That is ffrigging vile. Hopefully Nan and Pop won’t torment me while I’m in hospital this time, so things should be better. I’ll still face the same bad reactions and sickness issues, but if people are nice to me, I can probably get over the problems with a bit less grief. I’m on board with drinking way heaps of water, more than the average person should drink in a day, so that’s something I have in my favour.

I’m gonna play computer games all afternoon and then make sure my travel bag is packed and ready to go if needed. Hopefully I can come home and unpack it, but if that doesn’t happen, I can simply come home and pick it up straight away without any mucking around. I’m not telling Nan and Pop straight away if I’m put in the hospital. I want to settle in and make sure I know where my place is with the nurses so that if Nan tries to distract me from getting the help I need, the doctors will know what I want sorted so there’ll be no arguments from Nan’s fuckhead cakehole. I’m definitely keeping that bell in easy access at all times, and if my grandparents try to shift it anywhere, I’m gonna tell them to smoke their pipe and hopefully suffocate to death. How about instead of me trying to commit suicide, they go ahead and kill themselves? It’ll save me having to kill myself. At least I won’t be getting into any more trouble and having doctors not allow me to touch my back pack under any circumstances while they’re examining me and treating whatever problem. At least they can counsel me out of committing suicide, unlike Nan and Pop who say they want me to live, but their actions encourage me to want to kill myself. My Aunty and Uncle must love me a lot more, their actions are life-saving as well. Dying isn’t the first thing I want. It’s the last resort option when I think my life couldn’t be any worse, and when Nan and Pop drive me to madness. They fucking wonder why the doctors would rather them not attend my appointments, while the same people love my Aunty and Uncle to death! They do take over a bit, but they don’t interfere with the doctors, except to stop me from inhaling carbon dioxide from a plastic bag which I’ve spewed up into, which is quite understandable because then the doctors can see my sneaky attempt for what it is and tear the bag away from me. It’s not spewing into a bag that’s the issue, it’s that I then stop myself from getting oxygen intentionally, instead of just pulling my face away from it temporarily, or holding the plastic bag away from my nose so I can still get fresh air while not making a mess everywhere. The good thing about not dying from madness is that I’ve discovered that not every nausea issue is refractory! Thanks Jill and Bill! At least they make the doctors’ job a lot easier, unlike Nan and Pop who hinder them and then blame them for the trouble. The only time Jill and Bill are even remotely smothery, is if I’ve gone mad and try to friggen kill myself. Now anyone can jump on someone’s back if they’re dying, because it forces them to stop dying and especially gets them to stop trying to hurt or kill themselves. After that it’s up to the person to work their little problems out, and then everything is fine. My grandparents like to drag things on until someone puts a stop to it, but then it’s apparently not Nan’s or Pop’s fault that things have gotten out of hand. What dogs they are! So instead of telling them that I’m in hospital, if I happen to be there tonight, I’ll wait till I’m home and tell them that I’m all right. I’ll tell them a few lies and spite them to get back at them. Then I’ll be honest and tell them that if they can’t respect other people for what they’re going through, it’ll be the last time they talk to me or hear from me. I find it disheartening that Pop treats Mum’s alcoholism the same way that Nan treats peoples’ health problems. Actually,, Nan is the same anyway. She doesn’t care that Mum is an alcoholic. So really, they couldn’t give a fuck that any of her family has issues, let’s just ignore them and they’ll go away!

Don’t worry, me chucking a fit at her the other week has ensured that she’s not allowed to take part in helping me with any of my health needs. These include my fingernails and toenails, eyes, whenever I get sick, injuries, etc. My only reason for not hanging myself in my grandparents’ house where they’ll clearly see me, is that it won’t stop them from being horrible people and because I have nice family members who want me to live a good life. I also have my guide dog to consider. I don’t think he’d care if I died. He’s only a dog. But since he helps me get around, I think he’s got too much value to lose.

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