That's pretty much the essence of my last cardio appointment into Wednesday's appointment with the new respiratory specialist.
Lol, jokes. You're still sick.
What the actual fuck.
When the cardio told me that it didn't really look like the pressure had risen anymore, I was pretty much ecstatic (in my quiet blasé way) because that meant it was over. It meant that all of this crap was over and that after a year and a half I would be getting my stupid life back and I could forget the whole thing had ever happened and everything would be fine.
The cardio organised this secondary appointment with the respiratory specialist as a precautionary measure. In the same way the doctors who are responsible for this current scenario did not exercise enough caution, it is entirely possible that this particular cardio exercised too much. At any rate, it was probably needless to point out that I wandered through the hospital walls feeling overly optimistic about my chances of leaving that place completely unscathed. As per usual, I was very wrong. The initial consultation went on for sixty mintues. Yes, sixty minutes. I have no idea how that happened and it didn't feel that long and it definitely was not filled with happy news.
It was all basically "blah blah blah rare condition blah blah blah disease blah blah blah effects of oestrogen on respiratory system not well understood blah blah blah" aka "we don't really know much about whatever is going on" and then "but we're going to poke and prod you and do a billion diagnostic tests until we work it out anyway".
No. Fuck the lot of you. I'm tired of this bullshit and your mind games. I don't want to partake anymore. No more needles. I'm fucking over that shit. Stop taking my blood you vampires. We've established about a bagillion times now that there is nothing wrong with my blood count or my kidneys. So I'll thank you not to excessively bruise my arm again because that was an unnecessarily painful three days. So fuck you. Not to mention all the stupid lung capacity bullshit breathe out as far as you can -- sorry, that's not far enough keep breathing out tests. I FUCKING HATE THOSE! I'm terrible at them. I feel fucking retarded when it takes a million goes to get it right meanwhile the technician is totally thinking "omfg, what a retard". And a CAT scan of my lungs because the injecting of radioactive dye to check for clots was apparently not invasive enough. No, I actually have to do another scan so we can check for smaller clots. Well fuck that! If I find out there are clots in my lungs I might hit someone. Or what about this lets open up your neck and punch a hole in the major artery so we can stick a catheter in there so we can deal with the right side of your heart and work out the actual cause and effect while you're still awake and cycling. WHAT?! Did I hear that correctly? You are cutting me open, while I'm awake, and sticking a catheter in my neck. Excuse me?! I don't fucking think so. But no one even asked my opinion, I just got told. I always get told. And you know what? I've fucking had enough of this bullshit. The simple fact of this situation is that it should not even be fucking happening. But no. It happened. And I have to suffer through all this shit and all this uncertainty with doctors who don't even know what they're fucking dealing with even though they created the original fucking problem
ALL I WANTED WAS CLEAR SKIN! I DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS BULLSHIT "DISEASE"! THAT'S NOT WHAT I WANTED! SO FUCK YOU ALL. ESPECIALLY YOU LIFE BECAUSE I REALLY FUCKING HATE YOU AND YOUR GUTS AT THE MOMENT. I HOPE YOU ROT IN THE DEEPEST CHAMBER OF HELL FOREVER.
And I fucking hate all the doctors. Fuck you all for being so nice. I can't even hate you for telling me how fucked up I am because you're all so fucking nice. This is not okay. I really fucking hate that. Fuck the lot of you.
I'm so mad and angry and paralysed and confused and sad all at the same time. I don't even know how this happened and I don't really understand and no one can help me understand because they're don't *really* understand either! I'm stuck in this cycle of permanent confusion and meanwhile in the real world I'm supposed to be aceing school and being an awesome happy child with the world at her feet.
HOW THE FUCK DO I BALANCE MY LIFE WHEN I'M LIKE THIS
I'm so uncertain. My life is uncertain. There is too much uncertainty for me to be able to function. And have the expectations shifted? No, not at all. Life continues to go on and I just have to be normal. I have to function. I have to achieve.
And I can't. I don't want to be strong anymore. I shamelessly ended up on KHL just for need of someone to talk to and I ended up educating the fucking counsellor. What kind of bullshit is that anyway. It's so hard suffering things that people can't understand. No one can comfort you because they don't know what's going to happen. There's too much uncertainty for that. Every time I'm left with an ounce of solitude I end up in this internal shitstorm monologue scaring myself into tears and/or blind rage because I can't fix myself this time. This time it's fucked. I'm in pain all the time, but compared to this bullshit, it's a fucking itch! You talk to people and all they can offer you is pity. Pity for the uncertain. Pity for what they don't understand. Pity because you're a pitiful human being who drew the really fucking short straw.
I'm just waiting for the goddamn lecture about how I don't have cancer or how I'm not starving in a third world country and that I should just be thinking that it could be so much worse. IS THAT EVEN SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER! It doesn't, in case you're wondering. It just makes me feel even more useless because I'm sitting here crying over fucking nothing. Every time people do things like that I feel totally belittled and insignificant like what I'm dealing with is trivial.
IF IT WAS FUCKING TRIVIAL IT WOULD HAVE BEEN FIXED A YEAR AND A HALF AGO AND I WOULD NOT BE SITTING HERE SCREAMING VIA THE KEYBOARD IN THE DEAD OF THE NIGHT.
So I don't have cancer and I'm not starving due to circumstance. That doesn't mean my apparent condition won't kill me. Google tells me it can be fatal. SO FUCK YOU.
I'm really just tired. I am so tired. This rage of emotion is exhausting. Every time I start to get on top something like this happens, but this, this has totally taken the cake. I'm not just unsettled this time, it's like I've been thrown at the wall. It's times like this I actually cuss myself out for teaching myself to hold it in and pretend it's not happening. Even now when I consciously want it to come out, I can't let it. I can't even make it. Emotion no longer bends to my will. Fuck you brain, you dirty troll. All my life you have done me a disservice and now you've convinced the rest of my body to hate me too. I hate you with a passion. You are the sole cause of my grief. My body is breaking down and it's all your fault because you're useless. All you're doing is understanding. And understanding too well at that. I totally get everything that is said to me and I tuck it away to torture myself with later. You're a fucking terrible mate. So fuck you. I'm so done.
I'm so fucking done.
- Sky
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