Honestly, I had just shut my eyes and slept for half and hour when my mom was rushing me to get up. 8:00. Prompt. Some asshole decided to test the fire alarms at 9 in the effin morning. I mean really. There are so many college kids here. Now pissed college kids I'm sure. They told us in advance which is nice, as last time they didn't and I was way more pissed. We went out for breakfast which makes a nice change of scenery. I need that every now and then, to keep me sane. Or to keep me from becoming more insane. Either way, it doesn't matter whether I sit in a chair all day and watch movies and try and read or go out and live a little. I feel the same really. Maybe a little more tired, a little more sore, but at least I feel like I'm not letting this get to me.
I like that. Feeling in control.
I am determined to not let this get to me. I'm determined not to be run-over by Lyme again and again. I don't want to bend my life around the fact that some damn tick took a 'lil nibble.
It's nice to let myself forget that I'm sick...that I'm so dependent now on the people I love.
I try and forget, but when my mom hands me a Dixie cup full of pills, it all comes rushing back. Rather quickly. It's strange what the prospect of a meal of pills can do to someone. I have a aquarium patterned cup sitting in the crook of my arm and when I move, I'm reminded that I could start a pharmacy. Its a nice rattle. Like gold clanking in pockets, or the sound a diamond makes when it slides across the table, or that horrible sound of expensive glass shattering, the pills sounded expensive. It was their cost, their true 'cost' on me though that would make them priceless. I hear that in less flowery words.
I have lately been hearing things in a lot less flowery words.
But it seems that this extended story of my day has only ended up in the same place that it has ended everyday. In the same ways. Me shakily picking up a fork and eating dinner voraciously, all the while thinking I'm about to toss it back up. (I have a weakness for nausea and through all this I haven't learned to ignore it properly if you can believe it!) With me rushing through a few chapters of a book or minutes of a movie before it's time for my IV. Then during the IV wait time, sitting gingerly in a chair, giving my left arm the cold shoulder in vain, usually watching a movie or talking. Then, and this is the worst part of all, I go to bed. Or a least I sit up, sometimes close to 8 hours, waiting for sleep to come and the hallucinations and pain to go away. I wait in vain. So I think the time away.
Or I think, then time takes it away.