I bought a wireless keyboard. It’s good but I still can’t do it lying down.
I am being worked ragged. It’s kind of atrocious. I’m exhausted. I have an exam I’m too exhausted to do anything about.
The thought of having to get up on a Saturday morning to go to class makes me feel something that’s not suicidal, but similar.
Working like this makes me ill. It makes me drink, which makes me ill. Stress makes me ill.
On Monday I had a constant pain in my chest. Stress-related.
Now I’m too exhausted to have stress pains, and have turned once again, to not really giving a fuck.
After my last infusion I had jerking extremities, which I assume is not a particularly good thing. And assuming it gets worse, as these things tend to, it may put paid to this drug. I knew it wouldn’t last.
So I’m ignoring the fact that I’ve got a letter asking me to make a further appointment with the surgeon. My excuse, oh, I’ve got a very important exam.
It’s kind of scary. What is this crap doing to my nervous system. It’s like a Parkinson’s disease shudder. Luckily only lasts a few hours. So I’m driving home with my clutch leg shaking, the willpower to keep it vaguely under control is immense. I know I shouldn’t be driving.
I had my tarot read. Four different cards to do with obsession. Not in a good way. And an ensuing discussion about my obsession. Which is not going away, just eating me from the inside out.
And the ongoing confusion about my gender. Not going away. But seeming less important than it should. According to traditional trans folklore.
There are lots of things I don’t do anything about.