Archives For angry

The 30th of July.

I’ve had really quite a shit day. My arm has decreased in size which is obviously good, but it means I need to be remeasured for a new sleeve because the current one is almost baggy. I spent all morning trying to ring the people who book the appointments for Julie at The Spire and left a message, but no one answered or got back to me. I rang the main number who bounced me from pillar to post before putting me through to the number that no one was picking up. It was only at lunch time when I tried the main number again (after another no answer) and voiced my frustration did I get to speak to someone. They said they’d been there all morning which just tells me they couldn’t be arsed to talk to me or any patient that called. I finally got an appointment for next week. Hopefully I’m not adversely affected.

Another reason for the shitness of the day was that I put up a post this morning about how I feel about having been in remission for ten years, which I’ve been working on for weeks and was really hard, but the overwhelming lack of reaction makes me feel like very few people really give a fuck. I have had a couple of comments but really I don’t know why I bothered.

Finally, I got a letter from the pain nurse who I talked to on the phone six weeks ago. Turns out the reason I’ve heard nothing is because she only just wrote to Dr. Blaney. Great.

Happy 10th Marrowversary. Again.

The 31st of July.

I feel better today. I got some responses which cheered me up and made me think a bit differently. Plus I went out and had a nice time which perked me up.

Didn’t have time to do much this morning belt going out to meet Sadie at 12. Daddy dropped me off, then went to work to pack up some more of his stuff. I got a text as I was going up in the lift, and it was Sadie telling me that the place we were going to eat wasn’t open yet. Boo. We had a look at what was available instead and settled on Giraffe. Sadie had some spicy rice thing, and I ordered tapas of bao buns, patatas bravas and chorizo. The chorizo ended up being too hot for me so Sadie ate that, but my buns were delicious and the potatoes were fine. Then we shared some churros. Yum. Talked about Love Island, her current/future job, our shared desire to and see The Meg, and stupid people in our lives.

When we finished, she was going the other way to me, so we said goodbye, then I went to Foyles to browse and ended up buying Hunger by Roxane Gay. I then texted Daddy come and pick me up, but traffic meant it took him 25 minutes to get about a mile. Bleah.

Since getting home, I’ve watched the most recent Sharp Objects and the pilot episode of House while crocheting the dress.

I nearly got Dolly on the chair with me last night! Two paws up, thought about it, but no. Soon!

The 10th of October. 

Oh everything can just fuck off. I have spent the entire day waiting for parcels and cats and got neither. 

I checked on my Hermes delivery email for my Uniqlo order and it said at 17:59 last night that the courier would re-attempt delivery today, which hasn’t happened. My wool is also supposed to have been out for delivery today since half past seven and that has equally not materialised. Looking up Hermes on Google/Twitter just throws one into even deeper despair because they are utterly shit. I am going to have to spend Monday complaining furiously if I ever want to receive the things I ordered. 

And the kittens issue is just people not communicating. I texted Shaki but she had no news and promised to chase it up, but then four hours later I’d still heard nothing, so I phoned Sheila. She was very unimpressed with the situation age rang Lynn (who currently has the kittens I was supposed to get) and Shaki, and Shaki eventually rang me back. She had apparently texted me but her phone died before it had sent. Basically, the kittens haven’t even had their second vaccinations yet so I don’t know why I was ever told they’d be coming today, and one might be being viewed this week. So they may come next Sunday but I won’t get my hopes up. 

I feel it’s appropriate that on World Mental Health Day, my depression is in full force, making me feel completely worthless. 

The 11th of October. 

I am in the sort of mood in which I don’t want to interact with anyone because it will just make me feel worse. I am angry with the world for being unfair and with people for making it even more so. I am upset with the government and how powerless I feel, and I am genuinely afraid for the NHS and in turn my own life when things inevitably go south. 

I am scared to try to move forward with my life because I find it impossible to envision a future for myself. I stopped having goals a long time ago. Trying to live independently doesn’t feel like an option because as well as I feel right now, winter is drawing in and it’s only a matter of me picking up the wrong gems and the 24/7 oxygen cylinders are back in use. 

I just can’t see how I can live any sort of life that’s worthwhile. Where would I even begin?

The 2nd of June.

Just seven and a half hours in hospital today, then an hour and a half drive home. Despite having two units of blood, I’m pretty pooped. I was awake at quarter to seven, ready to be at hospital for nine for my blood before ECP. No checked my haemoglobin and it had gone down again to 8.4, so it was a good thing she’d ordered two units for me. 

From then on, it was fairly dull. I read the paper, and took the time as a good one to listen to some new albums in their entirety – Wolf Alice, Kacey Musgraves and Amber Run. I’d just got on to Florence and the Machine when Igor came along to talk about my leg and recurrent anaemia. The leg – well, we are going to get Ram to talk to Dr. Lester, the thrombosis man, about getting me off clexane, and I just have to live with my leg being boggy until it gets worse and we can do something then. For the anaemia, it appears that I’m iron deficient, so I have more tablets to take! Joy. This is probably the last time we’ll see him because he leaves in a week! I will be very sad to lose him, he’s been so great. Lucky Glaswegians. 

Then just the 90 minute drive home, and here I am. Phew. 

The 3rd of June.

Heavy cloud. It came over me this morning when I realised quite how big the difference in the size of my legs is. It looks like I’ve had a cast on the left one and it’s withered away, when it’s in fact the correct size. This is all Ram’s fucking fault and he’s going to bloody fix it. I’m angry because the way it looks is the only good thing about my body and he’s fucked that up.

Photopheresis was an hour late in getting started too, so that annoyed me more, then the hot dog I had at Colmore Food Fest was fine but not exactly warm, and we encountered traffic on the way home that meant we were too late to pick up packages from the sorting office, so I’ll have to get those tomorrow morning. 

I’m just sitting here in festering rage because once again I look like a fucking freak and it’s someone’s fault and it’s not going to get fixed before we go away so I have to feel like shit about myself for weeks.