19 September 2009

We're not going to make it, are we?

There are so many things happening. I got two rashes in about three weeks. One turned out to be ringworm. The other is some as of yet unidentifiable viral skin infection. I won't know until I get a blood test. Which I can't have until the stupid insurance approves it. Which might not actually happen. I should have seen this coming. I'm a medical disaster after all. Well, a disaster for me, but I'm sure I'm loads of fun for all the doctors I see.

The other day, Anthony introduced me so some of his friends at dinner. They seemed nice enough at least to talk to. I didn't really talk much though. Then, on Thursday evening, I went to dinner by myself. Except, after I sat down at the Anti-Social Table, one of the guys I had just met through Anthony - his name is Justin - walked right over, and said, "Hey, are you sitting with anyone tonight?" When I told him no, he said, "Why don't you join us?" During the conversation with him and two of HIS friends, he said to me, "By the way, if you're ever eating by yourself, I usually eat at this table. You are totally free to join me and whoever I'm with." I remember thinking: Since when do I get invited to sit with people? Is this some kind of joke and I just haven't caught on yet? It might be. Maybe I'm just slow.

Also, I was waiting for Meranda on...Thursday After dinner. She came back from Tae Kwon Do just as I was leaving to go to Price Chopper, so I invited her. I hung out in the lounge whilst she was changing. As I was laying on a couch, someone came up to me and said, "Hey, are you okay?" And I told her that yeah, I was; I was just waiting for someone. She gave me a cute smile and said, "That's good. I just wanted to check. I was kind of worried." Since when are random people worried about me? Since when do random people talk to me?

Earlier in the week, Jim invited me to go work out with him. Since I know I should exercise some, and don't really want to do it alone, I accepted the invitation. But I didn't wait long enough after taking the Ventolin, so I managed to give myself two major asthma attacks. I wasn't even running that hard. But I think I panicked when I first realized that I was having trouble breathing, and that escalated them into the kind of attacks they turned out to be. I remember thinking "This shouldn't be happening. I took the medicine. Why can't I breathe?" It was only after calming down after the second attack that I realized the medicine hadn't kicked in yet when I started running.

We also went into the room with a bunch of machines inside. I used a few that wouldn't do any harm to my back, and tried to be really careful. Weights make me worried. I keep hearing Doctors Carl, Zmuerko and McGuire not to lift anything heavy. I kept telling myself that I wasn't, but it was hard to convince myself. I kept all the machines on the lowest setting. I felt pretty good afterward. Tired, sore. But I had fun. It was nice to be really active for a little while.

When I was a kid, I used to wish I could go blind for a while. Like, a few months, and then magically regain my eyesight. I wanted to experience the world only through other senses. Watching the world through eyes that have seen too much to trust the sights they see seems so impure sometimes. I wanted to just touch, taste, smell, hear things. I wanted to know if it would be like being an infant again - experiencing everything for the first time. Wanting to explore everything. Maybe I can do that without going blind.

My eyes have been hazel all day today. They should be brown.