Mine Eyes Have Seen 1

So, my last Twitter update still rings true. I have yet to have a pair of glasses to wear. I have to take them somewhere this week or else I think I’m going to go crazy from the headaches. I had forgotten just how bad headaches could be. It’s funny how you can have migraines and tension headaches for years, but the second you take away the glasses that keep away the eye strain headaches, it’s just completely insanity provoking.

I had an appointment with my rheumatologist last week. He finally convinced me to go back on my lovely steroids. I just don’t take the full 40 mg each time I do it. I only do 20 mg twice a week. My inflammation is bad enough that I probably need much more, but the steroids are so hard on my system that I have to determine just how much of my treatment that I can handle.

My rheumatologist has changed my diagnosis again on the sheet, which is now confusing me. Instead of marking Sjogren’s or Fibromyalgia, he selected Connective Tissue Disease, unspecified, and Osteoarthritis. Apparently, my lovely body, which still exhibits the symptoms of Sjogren’s has gone hog-wild on attacking all kinds of connective tissue. Every day I seem to learn what a new level of pain my body can sink to.

I can no longer use any eye drops that we have in the house, which is really difficult given the whole dryness factor of Sjogren’s. All eye drops cause my eyes to feel like someone has taken acid and poured them on my eyeballs. I’m having to be careful with certain foods, too. Strangely, I’m having to eat higher fat stuff in order to maintain any sense of normal feeling in my body. If it has certain carbs in it, I’m sick soon after.

Relaxing helps, which would be great, if I could get my father to stop insisting on telling me how horrible I am. I ate a personal pizza thing he’d gotten at the grocery store a few weeks ago, about a week after he got it. On Saturday, he decided, after seeing me eating a flatbread sandwich, that he had to have the pizza. Well, he got mad when he discovered that I had eaten it. (I ate in the middle of the night when I had nothing to eat and I figured that since the man hates pesto that he wouldn’t want a pizza with pesto sauce.) Well, apparently, this was just further proof of me being a pig (he even snorted to prove his point) and that I’m an invalid. When I told him that the only thing I could ever imagine making me happy was his death, he said that that would make him happy too because then he wouldn’t be around me and then I would have to finally learn what it’s like not to live off him. (For the record, I don’t actually want him to die. I just want him to be a dad who actually cares about his family.)

It’s kind of funny that he said that. I’ve been taking care of him for years. When he lost his job because of his anger and depression, I was the one who used my money to buy him groceries. I’ve been the one who made dinner a majority of nights for years. I’ve taken care of him when he’s been sick. I’ve done the same for my mom, and I took care of his father as well.

He also told me that my mom and I use him because he constantly has to take us to the doctor and the hospital. I haven’t been to the hospital in months, but when I was there, it was due to a sprain that wasn’t getting better. I was there WHILE my mom was there with her break, so there was no going back and forth. As for the doctors, well is it really my fault that I drew the short straw on the whole illness thing? Every bad gene that could be inherited, I got, and it’s like he thinks I enjoy this. Who would enjoy this? Yes, being crazy was kind of cool because I see things differently, but some of the crap that it has caused me to go through are awful. And the physical problems? Well, y’all know how I feel about hate-mongers and completely ignorant people? I wouldn’t wish any of these problems on them. Maybe I have some sort of martyr thing, but I would rather be the person suffering than know any other person was going through this kind of pain. Feeling like you’re dying is hard enough when you have panic attacks and know it’s not really real, but in a way with the physical problems, it is real. I’m not actually dying, but I get this sensation that my body feels that I am because it’s attacking itself. That can’t make a body feel all fluffy-duffy-good or whatever.

I finally figured out what his problem is. He doesn’t want to feel any better. He wants to be miserable. He watches things that make him mad on tv. He plays games on the computer that piss him off. He snarks at me when I try to do things to make him happy. It honestly feels like he is making an effort to make himself feel bad. I guess he wants the same kind of care and attention my mom gets.

Oh, I have had what I would assume is an inner ear infection since right before Christmas, but I was unable to get a doctor’s appointment. I’m currently waiting until I can call my doctor to find out if maybe I can get in. If I don’t get whatever is going on in that region taken care of, then I’m going to fall down one of these days during a dizzy spell.

Oh, and if the whole dad issue, health crap, etc. wasn’t bad enough, my friends are all getting married, including the guy I liked…only, he’s now married to one of my friends. I would be happy for them, but some of the couples have barely known each other for more than a few months before their nuptials and the rush seems to be kind of odd. If you’re going to be with someone for an eternity, as one would assume they believe with the whole temple wedding, then why not just wait until you are absolutely sure that you know, love, and accept a person for who they are?

About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.