Dick-around day
I spent far too much time today fooling around. I got some work done, but not enough, so I brought stuff home with me. Gaaah. I picked up M's car today for him and filled the tank. My ass still hurts from being raped. It cost almost $29 to fill a 1999 Mazda Protege. Yikesers.
I've been digging on this blog for awhile, and today I shot Heather an email. See, she too suffers from depression and anxiety, and last year she checked herself into a mental institution. She's going through a meds adjustment, and I wanted to let her know I feel her pain.
Can someone please help me convince my stubborn-ass husband he needs to have a bunch of tests? He hates the medical establishment with a passion, and to properly diagnose him, he needs an MRI, EEG, cardiac ultrasound and spinal tap. Plus he needs to see a rhumatologist -- they think he may have an autoimmune disorder. He is being stubborn about taking the time off from work. I screamed at him tonight that he needs to take care of his health, that calling out dead is bad for business, but it went in one ear and out the other. So I called the hospital and scheduled the fucking tests for him. He can kiss my extremely round ass. I'm afraid for him. I love him with all my heart, and I want to know WHAT THE FUCK-ALL IS WRONG WITH HIM. I want things to be normal again. Is that too much to ask?
I've been digging on this blog for awhile, and today I shot Heather an email. See, she too suffers from depression and anxiety, and last year she checked herself into a mental institution. She's going through a meds adjustment, and I wanted to let her know I feel her pain.
Can someone please help me convince my stubborn-ass husband he needs to have a bunch of tests? He hates the medical establishment with a passion, and to properly diagnose him, he needs an MRI, EEG, cardiac ultrasound and spinal tap. Plus he needs to see a rhumatologist -- they think he may have an autoimmune disorder. He is being stubborn about taking the time off from work. I screamed at him tonight that he needs to take care of his health, that calling out dead is bad for business, but it went in one ear and out the other. So I called the hospital and scheduled the fucking tests for him. He can kiss my extremely round ass. I'm afraid for him. I love him with all my heart, and I want to know WHAT THE FUCK-ALL IS WRONG WITH HIM. I want things to be normal again. Is that too much to ask?
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