Sunday, March 30, 2008

Here and Gone Again

I hate being ill with the power of a thousand suns.

I hate the paperwork and irritation of paperwork involved with having myself in one part of the country and my doctors in another even more--even if I've put myself in this position by moving to New York from Utah.

For many, many, many days, I waited for doctors and insurance companies and labs to get it all together enough to provide a little piece of paper that would give me the necessary medication that allows me to putter through my daily life with some semblance of normalcy.

I attempted to do this sans vital medication. Let me laugh.

Ha. Ha.

By Monday night, a week ago, I was forced to leave the film set early--too tired to walk up two flights of stairs to holding to find actors. By Tuesday night, I was in bed pretty much full time. Friday had me irritable, emotional, sleeping in one position because my body simply didn't have the "UMPHFFF" to move, my bones ached, I was cold....did I mention irritable?

Saturday morning, the pharmacy called, the 'script was in... after countless calls, a second fax of the blood results to my doctor, and me trying to sound firm when I was talking like this:

" Could...someone...please...look...for...the...bloodwork ?"

Hard to sound angry when you are breathing between words.

I had Peter and Doppelgänger and Weather Guy and their daily IM's and others who kept in written contact to see how I was. Even with a few calls, I missed important voices on a phone, though. You need that hear you are thought of, cared about... silly, but, true.

I came to realise, I am pretty much alone out here, even with those I know near by... they have their own lives, and cannot be expected to come to my aid. My friends/landlords were good...letting me 'watch' the boys by sitting in a huge chair and doing nothing but, well, watch. They brought me a couple of meals I was too tired to eat.

Enough of that. Golfwidow did a post for me, I have 24 hours of meds in me, and by tomorrow, will be back in form just in time to mail Bob back to Gateway to be fixed.


For the same reason.

I hate Gateway with the power of a thousand suns, too.

The good things....

The Investment, sending me text messages from the dentist's chair, where he had the fun of nitrous oxide... "Mom, my eyes are dead." "Mom, I am pretty sure my hands are on backwards" "Son, if you hands are on backwards, how are you typing?" "I wondered that myself, and think it's some kind of magic"

I pitied the dentist.

Doppelgänger, who was discussing Blackberry's with me in IM's... a long pause... then, he admitted he was searching for the 'K' to spell QWERTY. (okay, I lied... I did use your name to tell the story)

CB, my friend/landlord, seeing something I wish he hadn't seen. Enough said.

Finding out New York State gives you deductions for everything from renting to the number of times you've touched a crazy person by accident on the subway. Thank you, New York State for my swell refund. I can pay back things, now.

The filthy smelly lady, who was offering up rolls and donuts for free on the "R" train, then screaming if you said no. (making a note for next year's taxes)

My old Theater Company for offering me a job as Prop Mistress for their 2008 season.

Guys from the UK I met on the Ferry on my way back from an appointment I had to keep on Thursday... they opened a bag of Malteasers, I advised them it was against the law to have good candy in the US...and they shared. We had a swell time chatting and eating until the landing. It was worth the long trip for me.

So, I'm good.....Bob is shite, and again, I'm taking a break....because I won't have a laptop.

Later, taters.

And, thank you, again, everyone who checked on me. Facing things alone is scary. I remain scared, but, not as much as I was.


TheInvestment said...


golfwidow said...

That's such great news about the Theater Company!

Quin Browne said...

investment~i condensed from your plethora of garbled, yet, vastly amusing text messages. word.


Writeprocrastinator said...

Get better, get up, get writing.


Anonymous said...

Get well soon!!! Being sick is the pits. xoxo

austere said...

Get well soon, ok?

Send you one nice big parcel of special cutrate brands, all copycat versions, from my land? You need meds, you need meds, silly ppl they are.

constant drama said...

I did not know that you were feeling that bad. Please get well, I need my dose of FMD.

Peter Varvel said...

Hurrah You, indeed! Congrats' on the Prop Mistress gig!

. . . and feel better sooner than soon, please.

MrHarlequin said...


Accurate quote! Accurate quote!

May your latent Catholicism come back to haunt you with guilt for lying and breaking your silence.



inflammatory writ said...

Feel better soon, darlin'.

Anonymous said...
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Therapeutic Ramblings said...

Keep on Keepin' on.....sometimes that's all we can do.

modelbehavior said...

I like ramin noodles when I'm sick. And cookies. O wait I always like cookies...

Feel better soon!

Anonymous said...

Hope you feel better real soon.

Who does your taxes, by the way? I get HUGGED by subway crazies!

Betcha that will land me a big refund, or land me in the hospital!

Grateful Guy said...

hey, how you doing? Hope you get better soon.

Seraphine said...

I'm not much for taking food from smelly people either, or from anyone I don't know, for that matter. I never thought to claim deductions for unwanted contact on my taxes, however.
Maybe that's the "standard" deduction on my tax form. I always wondered what that was for.