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It's been a... well, it's been a Week
Nov. 20th, 2010 09:33 pmIt was not an unstressful work week. By Thursday, after the holiday mailing broke every single printer in the office and I had dissolved into hiccuping tears in the bathroom, I figured the week couldn't get worse. The copier jammed sixteen times in a row.
Friday wasn't so bad, at first. Good my Yuletide letter done, and I even bought glasses unexpectedly, and made it to the library five minutes before it closed.
I fell down my front steps when I got home. My ankle hurt like hell, but I figured it would fade, and started cooking the pumpkin the CSA brought, to make pumpkin pie.
There were tears coming down my face half an hour later, so I thought "maybe I have low blood sugar," and made myself dinner, because usually that stops the tears. I didn't even think about it, it was so automatic. Tears at dinnertime mean Zana needs protein.
It was when I realized that I was crawling across the kitchen floor to get the pumpkin out of the oven that I knew there was an actual problem.
I called my healthcare's hospital precertification, which was a joke -- CareFirst never bothered to provide my records to the precertification place, so they couldn't precertify, and there's going to be an epic battle with CareFirst when they deny my claim because of that.
They couldn't tell me where the nearest hospital was, and I had no idea either. And our internet was down, of course, so I couldn't look it up.
And then I did the hardest thing, which was asking for help. I had to bite the bullet and make myself do it. Because really, if you can't call for help when your ankle is throbbing and you can't stand up and there's scalding-hot cooked pumpkin spilled all over your kitchen floor? Then you need a different kind of help. I said to myself, screw your stupid trust issues. I said it several times. There may have been a bit of cursing at myself involved. Also maybe cursing at the people who taught me that to ask for help means emotional abandonment will follow forthwith. It doesn't matter how much I go over this in therapy -- asking for someone to meet my needs sets off all the danger bells.
But I did it. And wonderful people came to the rescue and took me off to the hospital. And now I have crutches and pain pills. And my housemate, who is the best housemate ever in a crisis (um, except when he's at the opera while you're busy spilling pumpkin all over the kitchen), drove me to the Buddhist center today so that I would not miss the Vajrasattva empowerment, which I've been waiting for for years. Um, I may have had to crawl up the stairs to get there -- not so good on the crutches, yet.
Tomorrow morning I am getting on a plane, and I very well be medicated up to my eyeballs. Apparently the new x-ray machines take four times as long as the old ones. I had been going to go for the assault-patdown and triggers be damned, but I can't actually stand very well, so evil x-ray machines it is. I guess it will save someone from being thwacked with one of my crutches.
Friday wasn't so bad, at first. Good my Yuletide letter done, and I even bought glasses unexpectedly, and made it to the library five minutes before it closed.
I fell down my front steps when I got home. My ankle hurt like hell, but I figured it would fade, and started cooking the pumpkin the CSA brought, to make pumpkin pie.
There were tears coming down my face half an hour later, so I thought "maybe I have low blood sugar," and made myself dinner, because usually that stops the tears. I didn't even think about it, it was so automatic. Tears at dinnertime mean Zana needs protein.
It was when I realized that I was crawling across the kitchen floor to get the pumpkin out of the oven that I knew there was an actual problem.
I called my healthcare's hospital precertification, which was a joke -- CareFirst never bothered to provide my records to the precertification place, so they couldn't precertify, and there's going to be an epic battle with CareFirst when they deny my claim because of that.
They couldn't tell me where the nearest hospital was, and I had no idea either. And our internet was down, of course, so I couldn't look it up.
And then I did the hardest thing, which was asking for help. I had to bite the bullet and make myself do it. Because really, if you can't call for help when your ankle is throbbing and you can't stand up and there's scalding-hot cooked pumpkin spilled all over your kitchen floor? Then you need a different kind of help. I said to myself, screw your stupid trust issues. I said it several times. There may have been a bit of cursing at myself involved. Also maybe cursing at the people who taught me that to ask for help means emotional abandonment will follow forthwith. It doesn't matter how much I go over this in therapy -- asking for someone to meet my needs sets off all the danger bells.
But I did it. And wonderful people came to the rescue and took me off to the hospital. And now I have crutches and pain pills. And my housemate, who is the best housemate ever in a crisis (um, except when he's at the opera while you're busy spilling pumpkin all over the kitchen), drove me to the Buddhist center today so that I would not miss the Vajrasattva empowerment, which I've been waiting for for years. Um, I may have had to crawl up the stairs to get there -- not so good on the crutches, yet.
Tomorrow morning I am getting on a plane, and I very well be medicated up to my eyeballs. Apparently the new x-ray machines take four times as long as the old ones. I had been going to go for the assault-patdown and triggers be damned, but I can't actually stand very well, so evil x-ray machines it is. I guess it will save someone from being thwacked with one of my crutches.