2005-08-26 @ 10:31 p.m.
yeah, yeah, yeah, stop your whining. I know you missed me. I missed you too. Truly. I was going to send you all postcards, but considering I still haven't done a change of address with the post office or switched my power over or even signed a lease or given my new landlord any money (!!!) and I am now living in a new apartment, I can't exactly say I'm on top of things. I, too, am amazed that I'm living in a new apartment with no lease and no money. Doesn't that seem a little strange to you? It seems strange to me. Like did some millionaire secretly pay for everything and just not tell me?
Because it all has caused me a great deal of anxiety. Yeah, I know most people would be going yippee! I have a FREE apartment! Whee! Wahoo! Well, not me. Because although I suffer from mental illness, I am also a highly responsible person who likes to have all her 'i's dotted and 't's crossed so that I won't get into trouble somewhere down the line. And what's weird is, that the last few days, as I've been carrying stuff up to my new apartment, I would see Brent, the super-flake new landlord walking around the complex, and I would immediately get a big pit in my stomach like I was doing something wrong, and yet he would wave to me like we were seeing each other down at the country club and I would then speed walk up into my apartment like I had just shoplifted a piece of fruit. And what's funny is...I totally WANT to give him the fucking money. I want to sign the god damn lease. But he's like...just a big, ol' freakin' flake. And this has been causing me a lot of stress.
I had talked to "A" earlier in the week about all my stress...about waiting for the Section 8 inspection (it passed ok) and the money from the other agency (I got it) and he was like "so what's the problem. Why are you stressed?" I think its just because its been taking so long for everything to come to fruition, plus add in the flaky landlord thingie and then add in not having much help. I did get some help from a girl from "A" group. "C" came over on Wednesday and helped bring over a load in her car and my car. It was so nice having someone there to not only help, but also to talk to. We have a lot in common, like we both discovered we have severe phone anxiety and were laughing at the lengths we'll go to avoid using the phone. I think her's might be a little worse than mine. We've written a few e-mails back and forth to each other and she sent me a cute e-card with a cat sitting on top of a huge pile of moving boxes which seemed appropriate. I hope that maybe we can go out for a soda sometime. She has a good sense of humor and we talked pretty easily.
Moving day wasn't too bad. And fortunately the Moving Company From Hell was actually one of the best parts of the last 48 hours. When they arrived, I told them I was a little leary about them because my last move took 11 hours and they just looked at me in disbelief. They asked me what the guys looked like, and to be honest, I couldn't remember since I blocked all that shit out completely. Anyways, they laughed and joked about the "11-hour-move" during my entire move, which amazingly only took a mere 4 hours -- complete. And they were so nice and patient with me. Nothing was broken. They worked really fast. They were funny and anytime I attempted to lift anything, the one guy George would put his hand on my arm and give me the Evil Eye, like don't do that.
My main problem in the new place, is that my eyeballs played a mean trick on me. They said, "Hey witty, all your furniture will look really cool and nice in here." But what they didn't add, was the fact that it wouldn't fit. I was totally certain that this apartment had the same square footage as my other place, but its smaller and it looks like I will have to get rid of at least two pieces of furniture. I'd like to just get rid of the two big huge puffy 1980's couch and chair my Dad left me when he moved to the Philippines. I know its from him, but I really don't have any particular emotional attachment to it. I mean, I have a tennis racket he gave me when I was 11, which means a lot more than some Country Living duck print couch from 1986. So I'd like to jettison both pieces and just buy some kind of cool futon. But I just really don't have the money. And twice in the last month, I've been trying to reestablish my credit, by applying for a credit card at both Walmart and Target, but I got turned down for both because of a bankruptcy 7 years ago. So what did they say on BOTH of their rejection letters? "Not enough credit activity in the last 4 months." Duh! I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to reestablish credit if I can't reestablish credit. Thanks Corporate America. Just send some Armored trucks over to Enron, why dont'cha?
So my first night here was very quiet. I was beyond exhaustion. And also I've been experiencing more and more chest pains in the last couple of weeks. I told "A" about it and he thinks its just stress. But in the last couple of days, as I've been carrying box after box up the stairs to my new apartment, they've been getting worse and worse and my legs started feeling like molasses and I even started breathing heavy and not even the fun kind. And the last day before the move I got so I could barely make it up the stairs to my apartment. The pain was exquisite. And I've never experienced anything like this before. I'm a health nut. I walk 10-15 miles a week. I eat pretty healthy (except for the chocolate thing). And other then being a stress puppy (self imposed, mostly), there really isn't any reason I should be in such bad shape. Oh, I mean other than every single freakin' person in my mom's family has heart disease....even my brother, Guido Obnoxious, who is currently waiting for a pace maker and he's only in his early 50's.
So I woke up this morning, still feeling extremely fatigued and went into the bathroom and saw the weirdest thing...My whole right eye was more than 50% swollen shut. Naturally I freaked out immediately. Like WTF? I was due at an appointment with my case mgmt. at 10 a.m. and I considered canceling it, but she's really my only support right now. I could see, but I did feel dizzy and still had those nagging chest pains. So I drove and saw her and she immediately noticed my eye and asked if I had a sty. I didn't know? Do I? Earlier I had called my mom and she thought maybe a spider had bit my eye lid and I was like Oh good, just what I needed to hear. A deadly eye-biting spider biting my eyelid. Whee! I did finally get out to my doctor's about 11:30. By then my chest pains were pretty considerable.
I then got to visit with my least favorite nurse in the universe, Nurse Ratchet. God, what a bitch. I've been seeing my doctor for about 8 years and have always liked her, but this bitter, unhappy woman she has working for her always makes her day far worse than yours no matter what your illness is. And also if you don't do exactly what she says, you are severely admonished and made to feel like a piece of shit.
So I was feeling pretty poorly, by time I got there. First I screwed up by not getting to the scale fast enough. I got admonished. Then my hair got in the way of her ear thermometer. My fault. And then she went to take my pulse and she kind of scoffed because I was wearing a bunch of bracelets. Hey! I'm artsy! I like bracelets, bitch! And then I told her I was having chest pains and she said, "I thought you came in here for a sore eye!"
Jesus, bitch, so sorry my chest pains couldn't fit into YOUR agenda.
And then I made the serious mistake of saying I was in a lot of pain and she huffed out of the room and I could hear her talking to the doctor saying, "She says she's in a lot of pain. I thought she was just here for her eye. I just don't know what to do for her. Tsk." Here's a thought, bitch. Give me drugs!!
She finally came back in and kinda tossed a package of Tylenol on the examining table and handed me a glass of water. She then said the doctor had said to do an EKG and handed me a dressing gown. She said to have the opening towards the front. That's all I heard. So I took off my shirt, put the dressing gown on and she came back in and flames nearly shot out of her head. She said, "I told you to take everything off from the waist up!!!!!" I said I was sorry and that I would if she would wait a second, as in unsnapping a mere 2 bra snaps, and she was like "Oh, never mind, I'll just do it THIS way....(heavy sigh)" I really would have. Really. I like flashing my boobs to Nurses from Hell. But she was already attaching electrodes all over my body and sighing and tsking rather melodramatically. And I was like "What's wrong?" and she said, "Are you wearing lotion on your body?" and I said "No, just deodorant." and she said, "Well, you're awfully oily!!"
I felt like saying. Maybe the electrodes keep sliding off my skin because of Nurse Malfunction...as in, it has nothing to do with my oil glands, bitch. So I guess she took three readings and during each one she let out some kind of a negative noise like I was somehow doing something wrong, even though I was only laying there like a corpse. Of course, this was only the beginning of the fun because next was the pulmonary exercise. I had to blow into this devise on her command, but there was always such a long wait, that I never knew when she was going to say go, so I kept running out of breath and flunking the test. And this too, seemed to anger her. My inability to read her mind. And then as soon as she finished, she left the room, I just started crying uncontrollably and my chest pains got even worse. I truly hate that woman and wanted to say something to my doctor when she came back in, but as usual, my doctor is on such an incredibly tight schedule, that we can only say the most important things and not have any human interaction. She told me my EKG "looked funny" (and I was thinking funny? Like Pee Wee Herman funny? Jon Stewart funny? What???) and she said she would be sending me in for a stress test sometime in the next two weeks. And then she gave me a prescription for some eye drops which were basically useless. They were drops for allergies and I really don't think my puffed up eye is allergies. I think its a sty. Or possibly a brain tumor caused by a demented nurse.
So I mostly rested today, because of my total exhaustion. I had originally planned to go over to my old apartment after my appointment with my case mgr. this morning and get the last of my stuff, but that didn't seem advisable since I looked like Quasimodo and felt like an extra from "Dawn of the Dead". And unfortunately, tomorrow is a fairly big day. My boss is having a once a year party at her house and I already said I would come. And then later in the afternoon, my art show opens at a gallery near the University. Whether I have the strength to go to either one remains to be seen. But if I have to choose one, it will definitely be my art show.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty