Let's start with…well, how the hell does one describe THIS?

Yesterday I had a doctor's appointment.

Yes, I realize it seems that I start every other entry with that phrase, but I have a lot of doctors, and therefore there are a lot of appointments to be had half of the time. And I have to work to keep them all straight sometimes. It's a good thing that three of them are in the same building, or there would be some trouble. Anyway, the usual happened—poke, prod, measurements, weight's high, blood pressure's…actually, THAT was alarmingly low that day. We're keeping an eye on that.

I've mentioned once or twice that there's a problem with my system—peripheral neuropathy, that thing where your body's nerves are just sort of fried, misfire, and in general HURT A LOT even without provocation. The problem is, we couldn't figure out why it was happening, because I'm not diabetic. I don't have rheumatoid arthritis. I don't have MS. I don't even have your basic pernicious anemia, the B12 deficiency that would ALSO cause the problems I've been putting up with.

The last few months have been a game of Dr. House—work with a list of ideas, throw ideas at the list, throw as many medications as my constitution will allow at it, and see if it will work. Everything that we did that approach with had some problems with it—the annoying one, the time we thought it was shingles (excuse me, the time we HOPED it was shingles), the medication gave me the worst nosebleeds, and I had to drop it like a hot potato. It was unpleasant. What was MORE unpleasant was the fact that it took three instances of elimination process—dropping everything else I was taking at the time—to uncover it.

*record scratch*

I don't recommend that, especially if you're on a crapton of head-meds. It will Fuck You Up if you don't know what you're doing.

*music resumes*

Anyway, back at the doctor's office, I explain the NEW annoying crap that my system's been doing, plus the return of the stomach ulcer and the havoc it's wrought on my system in the interim. As I'm explaining the new neuropathy stuff, the doctor explains that Ulcer 2: Electric Bugaloo is because—LUCKY ME—I have severe IBS, and anything that could irritate my gut will therefore come with a free dose of the It Gets Worse trope. In my case, that means the ibuprofen that I had to take after the time I got shot wrecked my stomach a bit more hardcore than it would have otherwise. All I really can do right now is avoid any stomach irritants until it heals.

Oh, and THAT'S the good news.

Next thing that happens, doc orders me to stretch out on that cold table thing and starts prodding at places
To my shock, EVERYTHING IS RAW. (Especially the ulcer zone.) The bad leg goes twitchy when he gets to it, just like it did at the neurologist's office, which I explain when he jumps—it's a fairly violent twitchy, like if everything in the leg was a joint and he hit all of it at once with one of those reflex-hammer-things (I have no idea what those things are called).

It's at this point that the doctor informs me that now we KNOW what we're dealing with, and that there is no way my insurance is going to cover these medications.

"What are they?"

"Gabapentin, Neurontin, that sort of thing."

Fuck, I think. "That sounds like fibro meds."

"If I were you, I'd think about filing for partial disability, or medical, both if you can manage it."

Fuck, I think again. "What if I did and it didn't work?"

"Keep at it, make'em tired of seeing you, and as SOON as you even get a MAYBE," he says, "get back in here, because if we can't get this managed, it WILL get worse."

"Ain't gotta tell me twice."

So, what Friday boils down to is this: the neuropathy diagnosis was an UNDER-diagnosis with a dose of optimism, hoping that it WASN'T worse than that. What we're actually dealing with is fibromyalgia, which is a step ABOVE your garden-variety neuropathy—for one, it doesn't take the diabeetus to show up. Medicine knows jack shit about it, or what causes it, or why it hits who it hits. It doesn't kill, but boy will it make your life hell.

But there is an upside:

Actual content--interesting things, 100 Things, challenges, fic, original content, basically me NOT being a reclusive dick--will return on Saturday, October 19th.

Why then?

That's a day after I get back from my NEXT doctor's appointment.

The fact is, things keep getting worse. My leg has flared to the point where it feels just like the beginning, the muscle having wasted to the point where it is visibly thinner than the other leg. My arms and legs are a searing, burning pain throughout half of the day, my eyes are a painful, scrapey mess, and--the most annoying thing right now--motherfucking ESTROGEN. My brain is so scrambled, it's like the brainzaps are the norm now and sudden bursts of clarity are the brainzaps now. Friday, I'm hoping to get some answers.

I WILL answer to comments dropped here--kuro_pantsu, we need to work on a schedule for braaaaaaaaaains the thingy, and I figured out why my brain couldn't figure two things at once--that cocky bastard WAS a vet--FOR THE OTHER GUYS.

alkonost_storm, when I get back, we can eenie-meenie-minie-moe any RP to start up again and I am NOT allowed to argue. (TL;DR--I'm your bitch for the evening!)

EVERYONE ELSE whose handles I haven't memorized? SEND WHITE MAGES. ALL OF THE WHITE MAGES. EVEN THE ONES THAT AREN'T SO GOOD AT IT.

OK. The hell.

I’m burning up.

Decided to go easy with dinner. Just some broccoli. Maybe a hotlink. Nothing fancy. I’m burning up.

Get up to discover that the apartment is, in fact that yes, it is that damn hot.

Too hot to think. Call me when slow-moving clipper…er, clips.

To make up for missing Friday’s post, 100 Things AND LTTP LP both go up tomorrow, even if it means I have to go to Starbucks to do it.

I know, I know.

I swear it.

I do.

But, before I do, a bulletin.

I’ve begun a Wordpress.  You’ll find it here.

It differs from what you’ll see here in that it’ll be quite a bit more *resists the urge to loudly PFFFFFT* professional than what you see here.  I’m not leaving LJ—not by a long stretch—but as a final, polished draft inches closer, I realize that it’s time that I posted a little sign over on saner properties—you know, BEFORE someone attempts to ape my name or something.

That’s right: the madness is safe.

Things won’t be super-stiff over there—I’m not going to turn into Mr. Stiffhorns himself.  But I’m going to be making a concerted effort to be more coherent.

Follow if you like.  I’d really appreciate it if you did.  :3

I CAN TOTALLY EXPLAIN MY ABSENCE.

Yesterday was my doctor’s appointment.  I looked my doctor right in the eye and told him I was FREAKIN’ FED UP with the pain in my leg and something more effective needed to be done.  A look at the MRI showed that right now nothing can be done surgically, which I was actually counting on—I’m willing to go under the knife if it will shut this thing up.  But at the same time, he looked at the MRI results again, gave both those and me a “Wait, WTF?” look—

( You know, I get the “Wait, WTF?” look from doctors a lot now when I bring in test results now… )

The return home from work yesterday began as it usually does: with a glance at the elevator number and a decision whether or not to get my mail.( As you may realize, Mail Day, like Laundry Day, can be a very dangerous day. )

Detail the Bathroom: 1/1
Unclutter the Bed, Sofa, and Chair: 0/1
Clean the Stove/Oven:  0/1
Clean the Kitchenette Area:  0/1
Clean the Home Altar Area:  0/1

Now that the unimportant shit is detailed, on to something important:

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF FFIX.

( OH GODS WE JUST CRASHED )

EDIT:  9:11 PM CDT.

I ought to explain my offline-ness here:

I’ve managed to catch a bug of some sort.  I got one ear whistling, one ear just not registering at all, laryngitis, and my sinuses are exploding on me.

I’d assume head-cold if it weren’t for the fact that I don’t get ear issues with a head-cold—and I’ve been hearing things wrong/not hearing them at all for the last day and a half.

If neither one has popped by tomorrow afternoon I’m seeing a doctor.

Now, where’s the Sudafed…?

Because it will be much easier, I’ve decided to have a master journal for my fics.  I’ll still post here, but…well, I took a good hard look at the tags I’ve accumulated over the last six years and it would appear that some housekeeping is in order.

That’s bad news for me.  I HATE doing maintenance like this.  Guess that means I should have been on top of that from jump, ne?  I’ve got work to do.

The good news:  Even with my writer’s block, I’ll be making sure that things never get so disorganized again.  Meet what will become the master list of my writing, Conchordia.

Now, to stare at a blank word processor screen as it mocks me.

EDIT:  9:34 PM:

Or, you know, to just watch my right arm spaz out on its own, listen to a whistling noise in my right ear, and feel my jaw start to slowly, totally lock up.
I LOVE HAVING TMJ Disorder.  NOT.

…at least it isn't as bad as my mom's was.  Of course, that ain't saying much because you could hear her teeth-grinding and jawbone-pops from a room over.
I'm taking meds now and crashing, kk?