mrsa post update

heather told me to stop saying i have AIDS.

so i don't have AIDS.

just something moderately similar...to herpes...or a disease...that will kill me...by a papercut.

no, really. we're still learning about this, but i have to go back to see my gp and get him to do some cultures and the like. damn. that means my exhaustion might NOT be a side-effect of this crap. which means i'm STILL fat and lazy. crap. crap and shoot. this is sucking. she talked to lee (her husband, "the smiley-faced doctor") last night, and so we're kinda trying to put all the pieces together. we all have some differing views & some similar views.

for one, i still think this happening about the time of my surgery is ENTIRELY too coincidental, even for me. i mean, i don't think anyone spit in my wound (no visuals, please) or used dirty tools, but it's just...strange.

second, heather said she noticed me never really coming back up the hill once i went down, after i got the cyst. it was like, i went really far downhill (health & mood-wise), but i've never fully recovered. after that, was really when this ignominious and unrelenting fatigue set in.

third, i DO have all these weird infected lesions popping up all over my body suddenly. i found another one last night, right before i called heather on the phone. it's on...(you ready for this?)...my butt. it's on my left buttcheek, right in the middle. but apparently it's been there, because it looks old and scarred. i just can't see that far down MY ASS. see? i told you check your butts. no one believes me.

anyway, i'm STILL waiting to hear from the doc's office, and i'm STILL going through with the sleep study, and i'm STILL going to talk to my psych, just to see if all this is intertwined. i mean, i can't imagine BEING DEPRESSED for as horrible as i've felt for this long!

no, seriously, i don't know how people have cancer for months and years and suffer. i don't know it. i mean, i guess i would do it, if that's what God put on me. but i guess what i'm saying is that it would just suck. i hate when people say at other peoples' funerals, "she never asked why. she never questioned why she was sick. she never asked God why her."

cripes, i get a speeding ticket, and i'm on the side of the road, laying face down, pitching a hissy fit in front of the police officer.

no one will ever say that about me at MY funeral. they'll be like, "this chick had some hellaluck, and she deserved every tiny bit of it." i mean, you think about it, there's SO MANY other people out there who could TOTALLY use the retributions of your bad karma. but, um, i'm pretty sure that's why God is God and not me. &=) you know, i've asked to be president before, but never God. i'd be smiting the hell out of some people, just for cutting me off in traffic. oh, and that ass who cut in line in front us at the gas station one time - ooooooo, that STILL burns me up. &>=(

anyway, i'm just rambling. i'm totally friggin bored at work, but i'm feeling a little better. not quite so emo. i'm about to have to walk down to surgery. *sigh* christ, i'm bored. bored, bored, bored. bored as shit.

lemme see, any new news to report? naaaah, not really. my heart is pounding out of my chest, but it's cause i feel so tired. what else is going on? nothing.

-jammy pie won't use the tiny litter box i got for her. she wants to go in the big box like booboo. they fight a lot, but i think they're gonna be ok, eventually.
-i gotta call my grandmother today, before she sends out the rescue squad. she's gonna kill me, if i don't call her soon.
-plus, i have to go see my family. i miss them, but i really don't feel like dragging this crappy, crabby mood with me. i WAS looking forward to thanksgiving, but i have to work it this year. this f*g job blows when it comes to holidays, and i've already spouted off about that before, so forgive me.
-me & heather get to hang out friday night. i think we're going to go to the hockey game, so landon, get me tickets - i swear i'm not going to be sick this weekend.
-ummm, still working on paying bills...
-now, i'm making things up. how about,...crap. i can't even think of anything good. ummm...i...can....read........something.

omg, for the first time ever, i've run out of stuff to say! well, i could prattle on about already overindulged subjects, but i'm not. oh, my knee still hurts. and one time, i drop-kicked my chinchilla across the room, because i thought he was a rat, and then i felt HORRIBLE.
*drops to knees*
"WHY, GOD???? WHY ME??!?!??"

ok, this is lame. stop reading. i'm boring my own self to sleep. ok, i'm gonna go bum around in OR and find someone to piss off. or hug. whatever.