so I actually have a paragraph in a notebook talking about how, although I cannot bear to face the light of the monitor and the noise of the keys, I really do want to write about the past few days. and even *that* collapsed into migraine's I-don't-want-to-or-at-the-very-least-I-can't-do-anything, within a few lines and didn't manage to actually be about anything. woo-hoo. keep that page in particularly stellar shape for posterity.
it is important to note, however, that - after two weeks of once again regular migraines to detest - the intensity of the post-Friday-session migraine still managed to reach a point on the torture scale ("not to fifty!") that left me an absolute wreck. coke, my beloved coke?, did not even touch it. Excedrin, (my beloved Excedrin), gave me about 1/2 hour of total relief, and then managed to keep the beast at a lower intensity level for a few hours. but by... say eight? (I first took it around three) I was in such agony that I called my dad and cancelled our fourth-of-July date, which I'd made only a few hours earlier. I *hate* backing out of things... but he was really sweet, and I was right to know it wouldn't be gone by today, even though at the moment I'm still too groggy to notice much. but to harp just a little longer on how much migraine sucks, I'll say that I was almost in tears last night from the physical pain. and even though I understand that there's a psychophisological link - I do not think it at all fair for a girl to be overwhelmingly attacked emotionally and physically at the same spucking time. scratch that. at the same *fucking* time. this deserves an actual expletive.
and now, it is quite possible I am going to detail events that I personally don't so much want to read about... so, if at any time you happen to feel similarly, you're just a click away from escape. you lucky duckle, you. please hang your hand outside the window and properly stow your baggage, as mine will more than take up every inch of aisle on this little ride of ours.
do not deny the tour guide her right to procrastinate.
Friday was one of those days that leaves me very, very grateful I do not still harbor delusions of control. here's what happened to my afternoon: I was supposed to see the doctor at two, an hour earlier than I normally see him. at 1:45, I met my mom in front of our apartment - only to hear that the doctor was running late, and the earliest his office staff expected him to see me was quarter to three. ok. so, I'd gotten all in my "I'm going out" (but only to the doctor, as in - I hadn't taken any meds or anything... oy, oy, OY) mode and didn't want to just drive around back, park, and go back upstairs for an hour. so, instead of this, I somehow ended up at K-Mart. I think my mom suggested it at some point. right. so we spent about an hour at K-Mart. I finally (legally) acquired the latest Alanis Morissette album (which will matter later, whether or not I remember to reference it... and which I very much like - although her use of the word 'doth' to mean 'do' bugs me... and I'm aware that if I hated her, for some unfathomable reason, I'd harp on the fact that she so often pronounces the -ed that ends a word... but I don't hate her, and so I'm mostly just enjoying it bunches - she's so been in therapy)... We made it to the doctor around ten to three, and he made it to us around 3:30 or twenty to four. Basically, this means that if he hadn't rescheduled my appointment, it would have been pretty much like any other week. (Except that's on the long end of his 'regular' tardiness. It's nowhere near the long end of his 'extraordinary' tardiness.)
We then proceeded to have a session just shy of two hours long (I don't even want to calculate how late he was running by the end of that, gyah) - after which I hurried home with my mom, absolutely famished. Before I even managed to grab a cookie or a carrot, the phone rang. And it was Silje. And despite this deserving-of-a-heavenly-choir reality, I honestly expected to get on the phone, talk for less than five minutes, and explain that I had just gotten through the door and needed to eat. (See lunch sort of happened theoretically-but-not-so-much-in-practice... so, yeah. I needed food.) Instead, I stayed on the phone with her for over an hour, having a really lovely talk and not managing to tell her that I needed to end it. It was just so so so lovely to talk with her, and oh... on a happy note: I still don't know what I'm doing for my third birthday, but I do know one present I'm receiving: Silje comes to the states on the 22nd. Eeeee! So, the calendars must be marked: August 21st: Mary becomes a fourth-year (and we all love Tracy bunches). August 22nd: Silje once again invades the US! August 23rd: Roo finally enters her final "dies-y" year. and August 24th: Mary has her half-birthday, which she sort of quit celebrating on account of having a birthday three days before it. But still. Mary turns 19 1/2. Squee.
Happy talk; keep talking happy talk... don't talk about things that make you blue. You already have a migraine. You say you hate this migraine. Do you really want to have a panic attack, too?
Do not deny the tour guide her right to parodize.
where the hell am I (in the story, I mean)? ...ah, yes. I've finished detailing what went on before the appointment and I've finished detailing what went on after the appointment and that leaves me...anyone, anyone?... *officially screwed*...
ok... so. I had this appointment Friday. I went into his waiting room with my head spinning dangerously, and the forty minutes or so that I waited were actually rather helpful - because I really needed to start breathing again. Being out, in a spucking mega-STORE, without meds, had gotten to me. and apparently, the shirt I have that I *thought* read, "I-heart-nerds" *actually* reads "Comment relentlessly on this t-shirt." I'm serious! first piece of evidence: the doctor's...erm... let's say "acting secretary" - I think she's actually the accountant or something... but she was on phones Friday... said to me from behind her little glass cube, "Does that say 'I Love Nerds'?" to which I (rather than correcting her; "it's 'I HEART Nerds, damnit") nodded and smiled. "What are you doing, dating an engineer?" she asked.
And this, my friends, gets the Completely-Unexpected-And-Pretty-Fucking-Out-There-Comment-of-the-Day Award. you know, the coveted CUPFOTCD.
I laughed - the nervous, 'do you perhaps need to see the doctor before I do?' laugh. And then I 'calmly' replied, "No... mostly just a fan of the crowd in general." She nodded and repeated the last few words, the way some people do, when they want to fool you into thinking they could have finished your sentence.
And then she looked at me and said, "Well, that's good. Don't date engineers." [Insert nod often used on sidewalks and in subway cars, commonly called the "that's very interesting information; please don't stab me with your umbrella" nod.]^ "I married one," she explained. ["Ah." As in, "Right, so this does have a basis, but it's a really-screwed-up marriage basis, and are you sure you don't want to check in with the doctor before he leaves for the holiday?"] "Perfectionists," she added, with disdain.
Ok. You don't know me at all, and that's perfectly fine - and perfectly evident as it's conceivable to you that I might be dating anyone, and hmm... it's sort of interesting that when you say this to me, I also think you're assuming that I'm straight, even though - so far as I know - there's no such term as engineeress. And, if it's cool with you, I'm going to pretend that I'm *truly enthralled* by the cover of Newsweek right now? Cool? Cool.
meanwhile, my mom - who had actually come in with me... I think she had some hope that the doctor, who cancelled her appointment and then didn't call her even though his secretary said he would, might actually give her a scrap of something to hold onto over the next not-quite week - fell asleep. and I decided that, although I would like to be so comfortable as, say, Jarrod - who could fall asleep while over at a friend's house... I did not want to be so relaxed as my mom, who could fall asleep in a waiting room with people milling about. but this, perhaps, has more to do with the fact that I don't want to be so exhausted as she is. I hate her job. I hate it passionately. she's so brilliant in so many different ways and she doesn't get to utilize *any of it*...and therefore, I hate her job. even though I appreciate the income and health benefits that come with it. this should *not* be the only option... [pause rant]
so, the doctor walks out into the waiting room, and he sits down, too... which is strange, so I kind of expect him to ask me if it's ok for him to talk with Mom for a few minutes, but he doesn't. we just sit there. and then he says, "so... do you want to come in?" and I say, "sure" in an "are there factors today of which I'm unaware? why are we even having this conversation, and seeing as I don't know the answer to that, will someone please tell me if 'sure' was not the answer they were looking for?" tone.
but... no one says anything, so I walk into the office and sit down. the doctor appears a moment later with water, which I sip gratefully. and then... the *first* thing he says to me is
...[to be continued.]
~me
^Dude, that almost made *me* laugh. I so funny.