Wow. What a day.
Spent the better part of the morning working from home (which is fun... really. no sarcasm there. I love my job and I love being able to get stuff done even though I'm sick in bed). Spent the rest of the morning trying to get some answers, but nothing came through yet.
Called my GI doctor's office, left a voicemail for his nurse, called again, talked to his nurse, who promised to have an answer of some sort by the end of the day. My clock says it's 5:03pm, and I've got a funny feeling I'm going to have to go through another night of pain, with no hope of relief.
maybe tomorrow...
maybe someday...
But who am I to complain? I've really got it made. Well, not really.... the bills are piling up, I'm not able to work regular, my wife's work has slowed down, and our outgo is more than our income, and I don't know what to do. But somehow, I keep telling myself everything's going to be alright. I just gotta have faith... I've seen worse days than these.
In fact, 10 years ago today, I was sitting in a jail cell, and had been there for around a month or so with another month and a half to go. Yeah, I know. 90 days in the county isn't exactly "hard time", but it ain't no walk in the park either.
There had been this situation, and I'd received fines in court, and I couldn't pay the fines, and eventually, the cops caught up with me and I got to spend 72 days in the county jail. (The sentence was 90 days, but they give you time off if you keep your nose clean and stay out of trouble). That's about as vague as I can be, ain't it? Well, I'm not trying to hide anything here, I'm just not feeling up to writing out the whole long story. Suffice it to say that I was extremely fortunate to get arrested. In fact, the night I got arrested, my life was probably saved. I was in a bad place and things were only looking worse. I was addicted to several different substances, (only one of which is legal in the US), and was starting to fall apart physically. For some reason, the night that the cops came to get me, my place was clean. No drugs, no paraphernalia, no "party" going on, nothing.... So they picked me up for unpaid fines, and not drugs, which is what they were after when they came.
So here I am complaining because I've got a stomach ache. What the fuck? Well, the fact is that this "stomach ache" could actually kill me, and I know this. But I've got to have faith, right?
Here's my faith.... I believe that there is a power in the universe that is far greater than me. The same power that had the cops come to pick me up the one night that there were no drugs in my little crack house (yeah, I was running a crack house) is the same power that is going to help me get out of this jam. I ain't ready to die just yet, and I don't think the world is quite ready to be rid of me.
There's some things I've still go to get done...
...but for the love of all that is holy.... why doesn't the doctor's office fucking call me back???
AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
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