Living. Fucking. Hell. (or Welcome to my Breakdown.)

30 Aug
I’m in a mood. I’m miserable. And I am bitching about it. So if you don’t want to hear it, piss off now. You really don’t want to leave a shitty comment today and unleash my wrath. It won’t be cute. You will cry.
I am fed the fuck up. Beyond the fuck up. I had a vampire appointment last week and Dr. Spaz had me on Truvada and Isentress (for all you Googling Bingers out there) to combat the HIV. Yippee fuckin’ skippy – my counts are up; I’m gaining weight. But I was hurting like you would not believe. Every single muscle in my body – from my neck to my toes – hurt. Not just annoyed – HURT. Tears to your eyes hurt. So in their brilliance they THOUGHT – or think – that it was the Isentress causing myopathy.  So off of that we go to be replaced with Norvir and Prezista. I am now at my worst since all of this began. I do nothing but sleep during the day just out of sheer exhaustion. It’s not really sleep as much as I just can’t take another step and I pass the fuck out.  The aching has somewhat subsided.  But my hands and feet are still fucked up.  Even more so now, actually – it has taken me almost two hours to type this because my hands hurt so bad today.  I feel like I have the flu.  My skin hurts.  My head hurts. This morning my calf muscles were so seized up I fell into my closet door because my fucking legs wouldn’t work. I can’t remember a damn thing – it took all morning the other day to fill out some simple forms. I couldn’t even remember my address – had to go get it off of a piece of mail – and was putting some random phone number on there as my own…  And let’s not get started on the dizziness and vertigo. If I move to quickly in ANY direction I feel like I am going to black out.  I can’t see momentarily. My head swims. I get the wa-was and I tingle all over.  And I am still not sleeping at night.  I am so uncomfortable that I toss and turn and wake up every 10 minutes. But hey, at least I have quit vomiting. 
This is living.  Well, this is living for ME, now.  I know technically and physically I was far worse off when I went into the hospital, but I didn’t feel it.  I didn’t feel like this. I was tired and I couldn’t breathe.  Big fucking deal. I had my usual aches and pains.  I didn’t have this barrage of bullshit that I do now.  I really wish I had never called that fucking ambulance. I got scared. See what fear will get you?
And what really chaps my ass is this damned doctor has done not a fucking thing for me when you look at it. All the stuff that actually has been working was set up for me in the hospital. Protonix, Mepron, the Metoprolol, et cetera – is all from the hospital. Even the medicine for thrush was from Dr. Moron.  I’ve been to a hundred fucking labs drawing who knows how much blood and I, personally, have only heard the results of ONE of them.  ONE.  WTF is the point with this lady?
If it were up to me – and it really SHOULD be – I would flush the whole fucking lot of these pills down the toilet and just go where the day takes me. But ultimately, it’s not up to me.  I feel trapped in this web of guilt with everyone telling me constantly how they don’t want me to go or die or whatever…  Yeah, this is a GREAT fucking alternative, guys.  Thanks a fucking lot.  I’m sure it’s great to live with Mary Fucking Sunshine.
I am just sick of it all. I am sick of the sick. I am sick of the pain. I am sick of the pills, and the needles, and the jackass doctors that seem pretty fucking useless to me at this point.
Hope y’all are having a better fucking Monday than I am.  I have yet to even convince myself to even TAKE my fucking meds today.  They’re still on the floor behind the bed where I threw them…

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