Mood whiplash is FUN!

I should, like, make more of an effort to write in here again. I’ve gotten far too lazy in just barfing my thoughts solely on Twitter, and the temptation to do so has gotten only stronger because of the upgrade to 280 characters.

It’s only Tuesday and this week has already been several kinds of WTF. I knew things would be odd because 3 doctor appointments in one week, but… damn.

Monday: I had to go see my main doctor as a condition of getting my med renewal charges restocked. The doctor is a tiny old Filipino man who doesn’t really talk much (picture someone like the nameless homeroom teacher from Evangelion) but today he was unusually chatty, asking about my BiPAP machine since he has the previous model. Like, REALLY getting into it. Internally I’m like “wait, he actually talks?! Holy crap!”

As an old habit from WAY back when I was in Kaiser, I assumed the doctor would want blood work and did the fasting thing (me being a fatty mcfatderp, it’s probably a periodic check to make sure I didn’t get whacked by the diabetes stick… or maybe because of thyroid stuff. Probably both). And I was right to. BUT, because the doctor had a new, fussy and time-consuming patient ahead of me, there was a long wait for him to actually get to me. That’s not a problem, the fact that LabCorp would be closed before I could get there was. Sooo… I fasted for nothing. Fun times!

(WHY MUST YOU CLOSE SO EARLY, LABCORP? It’s not even a 9 to 5 thing! It’s 9 to 4! An hour makes a huge difference for slowpokes like me!!)

My mother got takeout on the way back, both because a pointless fast is awful and also she hadn’t eaten yet so we were both super-hungry. So the day was salvaged, I guess.

Tuesday: I had to redo the fast, and got up earlier to go do the blood work before lunch hour. More takeout, too! Unusual circumstances, so it’s okay– there wouldn’t have been enough time to go home and make lunch because…

Another doctor visit, only this time I get to hoof it to Eastvale since that’s where Pacific Eye Institute is. (For being such a fancy, lavishly-decorated facility, it gets a ton of Medicaid patients. Huh. The name and appearance implies it would be for rich people.) My old opthalmologist retired, so I got bounced to… basically the next one available, who I saw last week, and he was all “oh I should bounce you to our new keratoconus specialist” and boop, I am asked to return today to see said new person. As awkward as that scenario sounds, it was actually for the best. Why?

New eye doctor, for one, is basically Kal Penn if he had a SLIGHTLY wider head and thick-framed coke bottle glasses. Yay! Also yay: he’s actually getting the ball rolling on my corneal transplant, which has ONLY been in limbo for the past two years since old eye doctor (who was basically William H. Macy but taller and with lighter hair) was super waffly and fat-shamy– like, he was convinced that my keratoconus was a result of my being fat and he thought he could blow off doing the corneal transplant by throwing glaucoma eyedrops at me. It’s not glaucoma, jackass. Your tech flunkies said so.

New eye doctor WOULD have set up the transplant fairly soon, except being new has a few administrative complications. Like most new employees, there’s a bit of a probation period– in his case, it’s a waiting period while he’s authorized to perform surgery at the hospital he was hired at. He doesn’t seem to be bothered much by me being a “patient of size” so I don’t expect much finger-waggling there.

I’m prescribed a second set of eye drops to stack on the brimonidine, only these drops aren’t being used in the “let’s just act like we’re dealing with glaucoma” context, this prednisolone is more of a “let’s try to fix even a little bit of the scarring in the meantime until we can book you for surgery” thing, so at least there’s considerably less bullshit to deal with.

It seems like a really good day so far! I get home and lie down a bit before raid night in WoW. Yeee, we’re gonna finally punch Heroic Kil’jaeden and I’ll still get my pizza later because Tuesday is pizza day! A few minutes before we’re set to begin, I get up to go to Blastoise, but Daisy was on my desk. I didn’t notice her, and she wasn’t aware of me approaching since I wasn’t wearing my slippers, so she got startled and toppled my almost-empty water pitcher that I had moved to my PC desk to make room for sorting my medicine that morning and… uhhh…

It wasn’t a lot of water, but juuuust enough to get into my keyboard and mouse. Aw hell. Welp, I figured both were totally wrecked and I’d have to withdraw from the raid until whenever I could secure replacements. My mood just tanked SUPER hard.

I went back to lounging in bed and– oh, the guild got Ahead of the Curve and WELP THERE GOES MY CHANCE TO GET A KILL VIDEO WITH NERDSCREAMS, FFFFFFF– a few hours later came back to Blastoise to confirm that my stuff was still dead.

It wasn’t. Both the keyboard and mouse recovered.


I’ve never had a good track record with any kind of water damage, however rare it was. I’d lost a nice keyboard and my old Macbook to water damage and I was sure my current keyboard and Naga Chroma were done for… except they survived. Somehow. I should just shut up and be grateful that they aren’t hosed, right?

Now I’m just in this weird… mood whiplash headspace. I was prepared to be just miserable for potentially the rest of the week, and while I appreciate my guild offers to replace my stuff I don’t think I could deal with the shame of having to sponge my way back, not without treating it as a commission and throwing art at them in return. (And it would have been WAY worse if Robert did it. Which is really out of character for him. Bro out-pennypinches Scrooge McDuck, he’s the last person I would expect to volunteer to replace my keyboard and such.) Ahh, residual disability-related guilt sure is fun, isn’t it?

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