How many times have I been told, “Stress doesn’t make *insert random condition* worse.”? Oh really? And rainbow colored bubbles float out of my mouth when I belch. Stress causes a low grade inflammatory response, and when you’ve got a fuck-ton of chronic inflammatory issues, it absolutely does exacerbate things. I don’t care what the “professionals” say. Most of them are fucking idiots.
I’m dealing with a hefty dose of stress, which has thrown everything way out of whack. I know where this leads, and I don’t like it one bit. Attempting to get all of my quacks in a row so I can have my care temporarily transferred out of state is a fucking nightmare. I can’t even get my medication renewals to go through in a timely manner – I’ll be lucky to be able to pick those up by Friday. This is bullshit. I understand that there are people who are actually dying so they get precedence, but that means those of us who are teetering on the edge of near-death can’t avoid getting to that point because we’re ignored until the situation is dire.
Today I have to clean out the refrigerator and take the last load of trash out so it doesn’t sit in the garage and rot for four months. I’m going to miss my computer. I’m going to miss the quiet. I’m going to continue to lose my mind. Apparently the dude in charge of getting MC’s authorization pushed through is also trying to get me tossed into the hospital for a full diagnostic work-up, to either confirm the current diagnoses, or come up with the correct ones. I don’t remember consenting to this, and I won’t. I’ve had enough. Maybe one day, when the shit storm calms down and I don’t have anything better to do, I’ll consider it. I’m too exhausted, too stressed out, and too depressed to avoid getting myself locked into a psych ward.
I’ll be like a Norwegian Blue, pining for the fjords. No one will know how shitty I feel until I’m an ex-parrot.