January 27, 2006

12:22 AM - 1/27/06
~Signals

I'm up. I was pacing... very slowly... very quietly. Don't want to make noise over my downstairs neighbor's head. It's late... not a good pacing hour. I suppose that it's good that I'm forced to go slow... I might fall, otherwise. I don't want to tiptoe though. I want to pace... hard and fast... Get my brain moving.

Everything has to be done so damn slowly. Even writing. My fingers move out of synch with my brain. I forget words, or series of words... or sometimes just letters. I'll think that I wrote them, but they're not there when I look.

My right eye feels cold. It's a very odd feeling. It's as if there's cold air blowing on it. Things are slowly whiting out. It's not so much that things get dark when when the eye goes... it's more like the color drains out of them. White and Tan start to blend. Black turns to Grey. Small lettering vanishes. Soon enough, if it keeps going in this direction, I'll see the "crackles". The best I can explain it is... when my eyes are closed, it's like looking at a piece of plastic wrap that's on a table... it's flat, but with pockets of air or water underneath... sort of wormy. I call them "crackles". I don't know why. At the time, the word just fit... maybe it's because it looks like if you ran your hand over the plastic wrap, that's the sound it would make.

I'm (compulsively) pulling and ripping at my beard. I've got this "finger thing". I've had it since I was a baby. It started with my baby blankets... running the edges over my fingertips. After that, I used my ear... and also pieces of string... and rubber bands. It's all about the fingertips... needing repetitive stimulation. I don't think about it, it just happens. If my beard gets to just the right length, I go to town on it. I've gotten to the point of ripping out so much from pulling, that under my chin, near my neck, gets infected. Sometimes my fingertips suffer too. Little pieces of hair get stuck in them like splinters, and they eventually start getting sore, or raw, or eventually calloused . I should trim my beard... but I don't want to. I like my beard... or "goatee", more accurately. I think that it's about 3 inches long now. I don't want to cut it. My fingertips don't want me to cut it either, most days.

Maybe I'll get lucky and find a good movie to watch. I watched a really good one last night/early this morning. I think that it was called "Smoke Signals". I won't give anything about it away, but it's worth seeing. I saw it on IFC, so you might want to check there, if you get that channel.

Guess I'll go back to doing the tiptoe strut.

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4:15 PM - 1/27/06

@4:15pm 1/27/06
~just shoot me

I'm going to have to make a decision here. Previously, I said, "I'll go in if I lose the sight entirely." about going into the ER. If I went into the ER every time I was sick, I'd be there every day, so I had to make some sort of tangible cut off point. Well, here we are. The way it's moving, it'll be gone in about a week or so.

Knowing what I know about the hospital, it's tough to willingly go in. I could try to swing the outpatient treatment, but that's heavily dependent upon many other things.

...and after writing that sentence, I freaked out a bit. I realized that I couldn't see the screen with my right eye, and so I called Neurodude, who (figures) is on VACATION. Fuck me.

Another Neuro is trying to get me to come in now and be admitted. I'm begging him to let me ride it out until Monday when they might be able to set it up outpatient. He's making calls, trying to see what he can do. He's supposed to call me back.

FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!!

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5:39 PM - 1/27/06
~unavailable

Going into the hospital.



Please leave a message at the tone.





beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

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5:55 PM - 1/27/06
~pee ess

oh yeah, RavensWings is helping me out. If I'm gone for TOO long, I'll beg her to post something. ;)

Be good to yourselves.

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11:41 PM - 1/27/06
~US Healthcare System sucks dookie

Yes, and here I am.

I simply do not have the energy to type out what just happened.

I should be in the hospital. I'm not in the hospital. After hours and hours, I didn't even get in to see a damn doctor. Too bad for Cutter. Boo fucking Hoo.

I'm here. I'm still alive. Sorry to worry anyone.

I'm going to bed.