aponia

So it begins...

....my odyssey to specialists and doctors. I've had two+ years without insurance to build up quite a menagerie of problems. Although...I do miss the days of your primary car doctor just giving you a handful of meds and sending you on your way. Now it seems there's a specialist for everything.

I was even told to get in touch with a therapist. Even though I've been med free for a year, and my bi polar kind of ebs and flows easily without the crying fits and dramatics of the past, I could snap "at any time". I just kind of blankly stared at the doctor at this point. Because I was already told I drink too much, I need to quit smoking, and I need to wear sunscreen. I'm guessing she doesn't talk to anyone in my age group very often.

Today was just kind of...building nerves. I hate doctors. I hate them. I know I'm a ticking time bomb...I know that my luck will run out and I will wake up sick. I have every major cancer and diabetes in my immediate family...its that barrel of a gun that is always aimed at my head. And I know that my own mental illness just makes the gun that much bigger. Sometimes I just wish I lived in ignorance of my fate. I don't want to know whats coming. I'd like to think that my own body didn't have some vendetta out for me, even if its not true.

The headache specialist is the only doctor I'm vaguely interested in. I'd like to know why I have constant vertigo and migranes. Because feeling drunk without the fun every single day is horrid. I feel like I'm trapped on a spinning ride, even when my eyes are closed.

At least I have knitting to do, to keep my mind occupied. But seriously...who am I kidding. I think more with every passing stitch. No matter how intricate and complicated what I'm doing is, my brain wanders to the negative. And then I worry.

Argh.

Is it September yet?