Starting back with exactly the kind of thing I'm supposed to have stopped writing about.
22nd July 2011.
So, it turns out I'm a mental.
My brother's laptop died and he went in to super stress mode about it and came to me for help. So I spent several hours on Tuesday night confirming that I in fact don't know squat about fixing computers anymore, my skills are both too rust and too out of date to be of any use to anyone. To the rescue came Si. So last night I headed around with laptop of unable to startness and Si did the massive favour of diagnosing a faulty HDD and managing to rescue data off it. Total champ. And while he did it we had a chat. Theoretically this was all good. The problem, as it turned out, is that I have unresolved crap. In our early 20s we were really close friends for a while, and I've never really adjusted to the fact that for a much longer period we've been much less close friends. Si stopped talking to me about personal stuff he wanted to offload long ago, I mostly still inflict mine all on him - well except for the stuff I bottle up. Well, while we were talking last night I realised just how much self-hatred I have about screwing things up back when things were better. I have so much ill feeling with myself about how much the friendship isn't what it once was and hasn't been for a very long time. And to make things even more with the mentalism. I have a fair bit of jealously and resentment towards his other friends. It is so fucked up.
At some point I really have to learn to be comfortable sharing my weird personal shit with someone who isn't Si. Things as they are aren't good for me.
I'd really thought I was well past all this.
Very irked.
Hmmm, seems I've been nervously plucking my beard alot today, based on the sheer number of random hairs about. This would suggest my crazy is meds or brain chemistry related. While this would normally be a good thing (I've not just gone crazy the old school way), it bodes poorly considering the fact I'm literally just about to change dosage on things that have been the same for ages.
Buggeration.
31st July 2011.
I spent last night in the urgent doctors. Getting some poking and prodding, after I'd got there stumbling and hurling. Then I had an hour and a half lying there with a drip in my arm and having various extras injected in to the drip feed. For all that it wasn't fun, I did leave feeling phenomenally better than I had going in.
On Thursday I'd started to feel a little headcold-y. But was a little suspicious it was just the change in dose on my meds starting to have a noteable effect so I didn't think too much of it. That was until the next day when I went to the funeral of a family friend and realised I was feeling too gross to even want to eat tiny pies. Not wanting tiny pies is a sure sign something is horribly wrong. Funeral tiny pies are amazing. Then on Friday afternoon I realised it was going badly and ended up stumbling to bed before five and staying in bed until the next morning, when I only got out of bed as a night of cold sweats had left my bed literally sopping wet. So I spent Saturday drinking hot ribena and feeling progressively more and more miserable while I napped on the couch, right in front of the heater (yes, sometime I do use the heater - though this was the first time this year). After failing to eat much in the way of dinner and realising I was feeling more horribly than even someone as stubbornly cheap as me was willing to put up with, I caved and went to the urgent doctors clinic.
I'd never had a drip before, so I guess I can at least count it as a new experiences win....
Having got nicely rehydrated and drugs for a bunch of what was going on, I got home to develop another symptom that is making the hydration thing even more difficult. So today I'd just been drinking LOTS of hot drinks and lazing in front of the heater. I did manage my first actual food since Thursday though, a heat and eat Butter Chicken.
On that note, I'm going load up on some more drugs and try sleeping.