Finally got a few things together that have been absolutely necessary, like refilling meds and such. Now’s for getting used to the idea of being back on pharma meds whether I like it or not, and largely I don’t but their efficacy’s been proven to me beyond all doubt. Some of my friends talk about taking “med holidays,” which has always made me feel a little funny because it sounded risky but at the same time I wanted to try. I don’t like howthe meds make me feel—more mellow but slower and more distant from real life.
Problem is, when I get closer to real life by taking a med holiday, the emotional and physical results prove to me I’m not a good candidate for vacations like this. It means I have to learn how to live with this daily feeling of disconnectedness.
At least now I have the meds I need. Still having bursitis in the shoulder, but it could be much worse. I landed on that shoulder when I got assaulted by Gumboy Fuckball, so pain even weeks after shouldn’t surprise me. I just thought it was the heart, at first.
So now I await the return of FBI documents verifying that in fact I’m not a major-league criminal or some such. Then it’s time to begin the going-home process. And by home I do mean Canada, Toronto, where the cats still live.
And I need to get there soon; they’re bonding so much with the catsitter I worry about regaining their love when I get home. (Not really, though Wanda is my dream of a catsitter, and friend.)
So now I’m trying to get better, and as ever hoping for something in the way of good news. More as it happens.