this week sucks ass

the last seven days have been hell.  let’s have a bland recap, shall we?

  • Saturday
    • I woke up feeling unwell.  my stomach hurt, and I was sore.  but whatever; I had stuff to do.
    • I graded papers during the day.
    • in the evening, Dad and I went to the UL home game.  I had a two beers, and ate a hotdog.  the end.
  • Sunday
    • I wake up very sore all over, but I try to ignore it.
    • go to church with Dad.
    • come back from church, and Brian and I cuddle.
    • after an hour or so, I get nauseated.  I vomit.
    • I keep vomitting and start aching even more.
    • I miss the church’s Gumbo Cook-Off because I can’t even keep water down, and I’m in so much pain I can’t even walk without help.
    • I soak in the tub for several hours, randomly vomitting into the nearby trash can.
    • around 7pm, I’m getting really scared.  I’ve thrown up this much before.  it’s just bile coming up now and dry heaving.  I feel like I’m going to suffocate.  my throat hurts so much, I can’t even speak.
    • around 9pm, Mother brings me to the ER.
      • I have a moment of amusement when I realise this nurse is the same guy from when I came in two months ago with my kidney infection.  he remembered me too, and he told me to tell Brian hi, lol.
      • I have a severe stomach virus.  awesome.
      • I text my library boss and co-worker that I’ll be missing Monday because I’m in the ER.  I email my teaching boss and students the same, stating that I’m having to cancel class.
      • the docs pump me with nausea medication and fluids.
      • they give me two prescriptions, one for the nausea and one for the stomach cramps (which I didn’t even have).
    • around 12:30am, we finally get home.  I take the first does of each med.
    • I’m able keep down about ten crackers before it’s bed time.
  • Monday
    • I sleep in.  eventually take the next dose of meds.
    • Mother comes over when Brian leaves for work.
      • we just kinda hang out, watching movies and the like.  she won’t let me clean the disaster of an apartment that was nigh causing me an anxiety attack.  I take my second day’s dose of meds.
    • Brian returns, and Mother leaves.  I take my third day’s dose.
      • the apartment is still a mess.  I start cleaning.  Brian only washes dishes; I do everything else.
    • I exhaust myself.  I take my fourth dose.  (yes, four times a day; on top of my normal three-times-a-day crazy meds and all.)
    • throughout the day, I kept down crackers, water, and two bowls of soup.  I’m still sore as shit, though.
  • Tuesday
    • it’s my 11-hour day at work.  fun.
    • however, for my lunch break, Dad came by.  we walked around the area catching portals in a phone-reality game called Ingress.
    • I vote.
    • I write on the calendar that I have a doctor’s appointment Friday and will be in late, as is protocol.  (this is later relevant.)
    • throughout the day, I take my medication accordingly.  I also have a salad.
    • close up shop at work.
    • I’m exhausted.  I’m still recovering from being sick, and I just worked an 11-hour shift.
    • so I have two beers. while watching tele with Brian.
    • I take my fourth and final meds for the night.
    • I pour a glass of wine.
    • Brian goes run.
    • I black out.
  • Wednesday
    • I wake up in a jail cell, mortified.
      • I apparently denied a BAC breath test, so they took my blood. I have, like, four fucking puncture wounds in my goddamn arm!!!  WHAT THE FLYING FUCK, YOU BASTARDS!!
      • long story short (too late), Brian bails me out.
      • he says he texted that I wouldn’t be in that day.
    • I get home around noon and immediately post on Joule what my students need for the day.
    • I eat a bowl of soup.
    • I hate myself.
    • I resist cutting.
    • I resist drinking, even though the glass of wine was still on the table.  I apparently didn’t even drink any of it last night.
    • we go to get my car.  there’s an empty pint of vodka and a full daiquiri in it.  WHAT. THE. FUCK.
    • again, mortified.
    • I called Alecia at Townsend Rehab and ask to meet with her again.  she agrees, for tomorrow.
    • I wept slightly in prison.  but I do not yet cry.
    • I go to bed.
  • Thursday
    • I return to work.
    • I email my library boss Katherine about the DUI, though I simply mentioned it happened in the last month.
    • she calls me in her office.
      • first, she’s concerned about me and my well-being.  I had an anxiety attack a few weeks ago, I’ve been in the ER twice in the last three months, and I have a DUI, and I missed work two of four days this week.  she’s worried.
      • then she scolds me for not checking in with her that I’d be out Wed.  apparently Brian only texted Jenn and not them both.  oops.
      • I sort it out, appolise, and leave with my tail between my legs.
    • I go to Townsend to meet with Alecia.
      • she says I’m starting the program immediately.  (honestly, had I known that, I would’ve drank last night!!  or at least waited to call her.  …I guess that shows just how bad my addiction is.)
      • she says I’m to start group meeting tonight.  and hereafter, every fucking Mon-Fri 5:30pm-8:30pm for 7 fucking weeks.  WHAT. THE BLOODY. HELL.
      • reluctantly, I agree.
    • back at work, a friend in Properties (who’s actually my main drinking buddy) confronts me about my DUI.  it sucked.
    • Mum offers to drive me to and from group, in case I’m distraught afterwards and also to keep me from stopping somewhere and picking something up anyway.
      • she reminds me to eat something before group.
    • still at work, I starve fast.  but knowing she’ll ask if I ate, I snack on a 230 kcal Cliff bar.  there, I ate.
    • so she comes by after work and gets me.
      • Mum:  “did you eat anything?”
      • Me:  “yeah.”
      • Mum:  “what did you eat?”
      • Moi:  “a granola bar.”
      • deciding this was insufficient, she brought me to Burger King.  I got a salad.
    • I go to group.  I’m miserable.  I’ll talk more about that in my next post.
    • I go home.  group actually made me want a drink more than work did.  this blows.
    • Brian makes food for us three. I try to refuse to eat.  they encourage me to do so.
      • right as I take my first bite, I remember: I can’t eat it because of the doc appointment the next morning.  HA!
      • but now I’m hungry.  bastards.
    • we eat watching an ep of Supernatural.
    • Mum leaves.  I get ready for bed.
  • Friday
    • I go to my doc.  it’s just a wellness check up.
      • they ask the normal things for this, including drinking habits.
      • I’m honest — I’m in rehab.
        • Doc:  “how many days sober?”
        • Moi:  ::cough::  “one.”
        • Doc:  ::puzzled look::
        • Moi:  “I only just started it yesterday.”
        • Doc:  “oh, okay.  well, good for you.”  “”no judgement passed::
        • that was comforting, that she didn’t judge me.  nor did her nurse, to whom I also had to be honest.
      • they take my blood (I made sure out of the other arm from prision, lol), do other check up stuff, etc.
    • I get to work, and Katherine wants me in her office again.
      • Katherine:  “I thought I made it clear you needed to call me when you’re coming in late.”
      • Moi:  “it was a doc appt.  I wrote it on the calendar like we’re supposed to.”
      • Katherine:  “well, I don’t always look at the calendar.”
      • Moi:  then what’s the fucking point of writing it on there???
      • Katherine:  “you need let me know.”
      • Moi:  “well, in the past we just had to write on the calendar.  I was never informed that we were supposed to call or email you too.”
      • Katherine:  “well from now on, call me if you’re going to be late short–notice, and email me if you’re planning to come in late.”
      • Moi:  do I need to email you when I take a leak too?  “yes, m’am.  it was just a misunderstanding.”
      • Katherine:  “that’s fine.  I’m just worried about you.”
      • so now I’m under watch.
    • because of this debacle, I had to cancel my usual chiropractor appointment for the day.

this week sucked ass.

 

so what’s up for the weekend, you ask??

  • Friday
    • get some work done here.
      • start working on next week’s lesson plans.
      • do my magazines.  maybe grab the old newspapers.  (not that I could drop them off to the animal shelter anytime soon.)
    • maybe eat something.
      • Mum will probably ask again.  I don’t want to lie to her, but I will if I have to.
    • go to that fucking group meeting again.  ugh.
    • after the meeting, mope.
      • I cancelled the Slumber Party with my crew because A] they want to have wine, and 2] because I just don’t want to be around people.
      • I may take some sleeping pills and just crash early.
  • Saturday
    • do my lesson plan.
    • mope.
    • maybe read.
    • maybe journal.
    • mope some more.
    • maybe cut.
    • probably go to bed early again.
  • Sunday
    • try to get out of church
      • Dad:  “but this is exactly when you need to be going to church.”
      • Moi:  “God can’t fix my mistakes.”
      • Dad:  ::gets pissed::
      • at least, that’s what I forsee happening.
      • that, or I just cave in and go.
    • repeat Saturday.
    • watch the Saints game at noon, begrudgingly sober.
    • maybe sleeping pills again

these people want me to stay alive.  I will.  but that doesn’t mean I have to Live.  fuck you all.

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