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Confession
thejanechord
Diaryland
notifylist.com
2003-05-14
10:00 a.m.
I woke up this morning and headed immediately for the bathroom, where I promptly fell backwards into the bathtub because I was so dizzy I couldn’t stand up. Now, I’m not sure, but I think it has something to do with the nasal sprays I was prescribed a few days ago for my allergies. All I want is to be able to breathe without being too horribly distressed over it. The doctor referred me to an allergist who can’t meet with me to do a skin test until mid-June, so I’m stuck with these damn nasal sprays until I can take the skin test and start getting allergy shots that won’t help immediately, either.
I hate waiting.
At some point in my life, I remember reading that people have statistically committed suicide more frequently in the summer than at any other time of the year. The thought first seemed really surprising. Then summer came, and I remembered how horrible the summer is when you’re generally depressed anyway. I realize it’s not summer yet, but summer makes everything worse and I don’t anticipate its arrival. It makes allergies worse, first of all. They say spring and fall are the worst times for allergies, but I appear to have allergies all the time. In any case, summertime is worst because of continued allergies that make it impossible to breathe, along with the hot sun that makes everything feel oppressive. On top of it all, everyone who’s not depressed is running around in skimpy clothing, laughing, smiling, asserting their youth, beauty, and carefree exuberance.
It’s sickening, and it’s enough to make you want to die.
The worst thing in my life right now is definitely the lack of ability to breathe. And it occurs to me that this is the very same problem that initiated me into the whole world of psychiatry. It was the inability to breathe, the tightness in the chest, and the closing of the throat that made doctors finally realize that, despite the fact that I was young, I had severe anxiety that needed to be treated. Well, they treated. And they treated. Now, three years, a dozen drugs, and several hospital visits later, I still can’t breathe.
Goddammit.
For a long while, I was able to just take Benadryl at bedtime and that would be enough to clear my sinuses and knock me out for the night. It was the perfect solution. Then, two things went horribly awry. You have to realize that, when I say Benadryl, I don’t mean the ordinary run of the mill everyday Benadryl, I mean the Cold/Allergy Benadryl that is about three times more powerful than ordinary Benadryl and seriously knocks you for a loop because you’re supposed to be taking it for a cold, which I wasn’t. So that only worked for a certain amount of time until I found that the Benadryl was no longer helping for the entire next day, not to mention that at about two o’clock every afternoon, I would develop a desperate craving for more Benadryl that I couldn’t take because it would knock me out and I needed to work. So, afternoons became sudden dips into a zone of massive discomfort that involved the very same lack of ability to breathe, tight chest, and swollen throat.
Why does everything have to be so difficult?
I feel like I’m spending my entire life in doctor’s offices. I have to go to the shrink all the time for the three prescriptions that I’m on. I’m supposed to be seeing a therapist, but I finally decided that I can’t stand going to the doctor’s office all that frequently. I’m going to be going to an allergist regularly. I need to get my eyes checked. I need to go to the dentist. And I can’t fucking stand doctors.
Why can’t I just be healthy?
You know, when I was in fourth grade, believe it or not, the teacher always gave us a moment of silence right after we said the Pledge of Allegiance. During the moments of silence (I was still young enough that I believed in god), I would pray. And I would pray to god, thanking him for all the things in life that I hated because I honestly believed that those things I hated would eventually make me a better person. So, I might as well be grateful for them, right? This included things like my glasses, the night-brace I used to wear for my teeth, the horrible contraption called a tongue-crib that was essentially barbed wire glued to my teeth, and every other thing that I hated for making my life more difficult than I thought it should be.
Well, fuck that.
Are there really people who can just wake up in the mornings and see? Are there really people who can wake up in the mornings and be happy to be alive without pumping themselves full of prescription drugs and caffeine? Are there really people out there who can breathe without having to resort to alternative methods of keeping the nose and throat open and working? Are there really people who are born with normal teeth? Are there really people who don’t have to worry about the alignment of their jaw while they eat because it either cracks like the devil and feels like it’s going to fall off or it adjusts itself into the perfect position to consistently bite their tongue?
Do most people have this many problems?
I don’t know if I have more problems than most people. Really, I don’t. How the hell would I know that? All I can tell is that it appears that everybody else has a much easier time leading a normal life without the aid of millions of doctors that barely know what to do with really unusual problems. I put a hell of a lot more effort than I really want to expend into a life I don’t really appreciate for a purpose I can’t quite ascertain. I hate the people who can just live without worrying about it.
And I hate the people who can get out of bed without falling into the bathtub.
