Guys, I’m sick.
1) I violently coughed for 2 whole weeks with no medical attention, thinking it would get better/go away. It didn’t, so I went to the ER last weekend. Turns out, I had pneumonia. Along with the coughing, I had very little energy, chills, weakness, diarrhea, and ZERO appetite.
1A) Having no appetite is bad, because my mood stabilizer requires me to eat 320 calories before taking it. If not, I will get violently ill. I could barely eat anything in the first place, so 320 calories just wasn’t gonna happen. So, I haven’t taken my mood stabilizer since becoming sick, and I only take my antidepressant when I’m withdrawing (every 3 days or so) bc I’m supposed to eat before taking that pill, too.
1B) At the ER, they only prescribed antibiotics and an inhaler, because I didn’t want steroids. Steroids give me roid rage and make it so I can’t sleep. As a bipolar bear, I HAVE to sleep or I go into crisis. I had no money for the antibiotic, so it had to wait until I could scrape something together.
1C) I stayed home from work for 3 days, but I also have no PTO.
When I went back to work, I was still sick and coughing up stuff. It got worse as the week wore on, which brings us to the events of today (Friday).
2)First sign that today would be wild: the bus I ride did not show up. I was at the stop on time, early even. I called the bus company, and the heffa who answered had an attitude. I’m like, bitch if you think YOU’RE mad, I’m fucking LIVID. I’m the one who is gonna be late to work thru no fault of my own. Had to wait 30 minutes for the next bus.
2A) Walking from the bus stop to my desk caused me to cough up the rest of my lungs, my diaphragm, and my aorta. All in front of my brand new co-worker.
2B) Noticed my new coworker seemed familiar, so I thought real long and hard about where I knew her from. Then I remembered: She added me of FB a few months back. I grew up with her brother and her husband. She probably knows wayyyy too many embarrassing things about me from childhood (you guys have no idea how awkward I was at that age or how many times my dad came to the school to punish/[publicly embarrass me) for me to ever feel comfortable working alongside her. Very awkward.
2C) My coworkers forced me to get medical treatment again today. One of them listened to my lungs and heard wheezing. My blood pressure was up. I was dizzy and short of breath.
And now, I lay in bed writing this, with the armbands from the emergency room still dangling from my wrists.
2D) So, the pneumonia is better, but now I have bronchitis. I NEED the steroids so they can help open me up. Took the first dose in the ER, and I’ll fill the prescription at some point this weekend.
2E) I also NEED a nebulizer machine so I can have breathing treatments (which I had 3 in a row in the ER). Do you know how expensive those things are? I told the doctor I wasn’t going to be able to afford it, that it would be better if I stayed overnight so I could get a few treatments. He did not concur, obviously. I’m wide awake, tachycardic, and jittery from steroids and 3 breathing treatments and steroids. They recommended Benadryl, but it’s been proven that diphenhydramine is linked to dementia. Ever since I learned this, I don’t touch diphenhydramine at all.
2F) I have to be out of my parent’s house by January. OK, cool, except we’d made a whole PLAN about this in July. The deal was, that I’d save money to get my drivers license back, get a cheap car, get my dental work done, and still pay rent to my parents while getting my life together, all before I move out. I think my dad wants me out immediately. We haven’t been actively arguing or anything, but there is obvious tension. I don’t say anything more than ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’ because he finds fault in EVERYTHING I do/say, such as:
A)the rule is: wash your own fucking dishes the instant you’re done eating. I made a sandwich and had some juice. When I was done, I washed my plate, silverware, and cup. He was legit angry bc I didn’t wash ALL the dishes in the sink. its like, dude, I followed the rule to the fucking letter, but you’re mad at me because there are still dishes (that you most likely created, btw)?
B)You are not permitted to eat in your room. Mostly, this rule only applies to ME. My sister and her BF keep (and eat) their snacks in their room. They eat meals together in their room. It’s a WHOLE ‘nother story for me, though. Sometimes, when I’m at work, this turd goes through my room looking for open food stuff. The findings from this search are placed on my bed. That’s right: if he finds foodstuff in my room, he puts it on my bed so I know that he found it. I should mention that he searches through plastic grocery bags to find shit. Even if it’s an empty paper from a kit-kat. Or a full soda can that I was saving. Or a brand new unopened pack of crackers. I actually have to laugh that he searches the trash bags. My feminine products are sometimes in those bags. Joke’s on you, you gross bastard.
My sister’s stuff remains untouched. Cool, whatever, favoritism is real. They had to put a fly strip up in her room. I hear screams in the night from her (when she sees a roach) followed by a banging noise (when she summons the boyfriend to kill the bug).
The only bugs that visit my room, come there from her room, or the bathroom*. Or they come because my immune system took a nap. Or, they’re the type of bugs that spy on you, because I’m sure that’s still happening. Hi hater! I’m writing about you! +blows kisses+ I don’t need a flystrip. Or to have a can of bug spray at the ready. Just some antivirus and preventative measures.
Fact you should keep in mind about my sister&her boyfriend and myself: We pay the same amount in rent. Yes, folks, two people with two incomes pay the same amount in rent as my own self with one income. Hey, I ain’t mad at my sis. I’m not jealous of her. I just wonder why she and her bf have the privileges that they do, while I’m trapped in my room without coming out except to use the bathroom or clean up the house a lil. I don’t even eat their food unless I’m invited to. Been fussed at countless times for stuff going missing. Even when I didn’t eat it. Even though my personal stuff is constantly being consumed. I should lace it with ex-lax.
*Bugs enter the bathroom looking for food, because my male parental unit/landlord/warden (more on that later) eats in his room, then takes the dirty dishes to the bathroom (Heaven only knows why). Bugs also enter the bathroom because said bastard HAS to smoke weed all day err day, so he opens the window AND the screen for a while. Ever seen a wasp while you’re in the shower? You may end up with a concussion from trying to run in the shower. True story. He leaves beer cans all over the bathroom, too. Shower beers are delicious but could you PLEASE throw the cans away? WTF IS SO HARD ABOUT THAT.
OK I’m venting, rambling, not making sense, seeing the typos and debating on fixing them or nah, and needing sleep but knowing it won’t come to me for a while. I’ll end this entry here. If you read the whole thing? I freaking love ya. And, I’m sorry for writing about how I want to end my life. I won’t actually kill myself, promise. Gotta see my nephews grow up.
(fun fact: Jojo [my sister’s boyfriend’s 2-year-old] has pegged me as his fave.person.EVER. In front of my sister, he hugged me as tightly as possible, kissed my cheek, and declared “Mine!” When my sister tried to argue that I actually belong to her, Jojo insisted that I, in fact, belong to HIM. I’m just glad someone loves me enough to claim me. None of my faults, my mental illnesses, my missing teeth, or my wrong song lyrics matter to him. I’m perfect in his innocent eyes.).
So, I’ll actually end after just a few more sentences, because I’m on a fuckin roll.
I can feel the prednisone causing my mood to change. I was already going into a manic phase. Just crawling out from a dark depression, possibly sparked by the chill in the air, being treated unfairly, being broke, and the fact that Heaven has no phone so I couldn’t wish my Nanny a happy 1st Angelversarry (10/3 makes 1 year since she passed) and I couldn’t wish my Grandma a happy 83rd birthday(10/4 was her birthday).
Also I’m possibly gonna gain weight with the steroids.
Can I just fucking hibernate til this is over? Or until my life is in order?
Ok, gonna end this here and possibly start a new entry. Sorry for the typos and bad grammar and stuff.