It hurts to type unless I hold my arms in the air. My wrists are still terribly bruised all around from the attempts to draw blood and the IV. I don't know how I'm going to handle routine blood draws at my doctor's office in the future. I'm afraid I will have a complete PTSD meltdown.
After the ten hours of agony in the ER, before they sent me up to a room they decided they wanted more blood to do a goddamned pregnancy test. I think I was screaming. Finally they just used the stupid urine I gave them, which they really should have done in the first place. It's awful when people keep coming in and out not having any idea and trying to stick more needles in me. I deeply ashamed of my behavior in some ways, because I hate to lose it like that and it's not nice to scream at people just doing their jobs. But I was seriously just gone. Just gone in some of the worst, scariest panic I've ever experienced.
The whole experience was like that. I remember being in pain and freaking out, screaming that I didn't want to die and I wanted to go home now, now, now. Literally screaming. I feel terrible for doing that to Mike.
July has been a bad month all round, from what I hear.
For the first time in ages I find myself wanting to write some fic.
Confession time: I am terrible with plants. I've killed most of the backyard grass and the plants in the large stone planters outside the living room windows. I feel awful about. I read the posts on my friendslists about gardening endeavors and I feel this mix of envy and guilt. I wish I could grow things or even just not kill them. It just doesn't seem to be a skill I have.
So I envy you the tomatoes, the flowers, the expanding plethora of plants and greenery and blooms. Now will you come over and do my yard? I'll pay you in pies.
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