Today is a high pain day. Like a solid seven and a half out of ten. My hips are screaming, my knees hurt, my hands hurt too much to crochet. I can knit, as it takes different hand positions and is less painful, but man does it suck to be me today.
My knees are absolutely screaming today, or at least my right one. I don’t know what I did, but I feel like I need to get a knee brace. It feels like the kneecap itself is trying to escape.
Which topics would you like to be more informed about?
Honestly? My own diagnoses, that’s what I’d like to be more informed about.
I don’t know much about diabetes other than “sugar/carbs BAD”. I know Metformin helps my blood sugar, so does my basaglar. But I don’t know more than that. And every time I ask, I get referred to an endocrinologist that turns out to be some sort of shitheel.
I don’t know that much about fibromyalgia except that pregabalin helps me function at a three to five, usually, on the pain scale rather than a seven to nine. I know I still hurt.
I know I’m likely going to need new knees at some point, for they’ve been bad since I was a teenager.
I want to know more about Autism Spectrum Disorder, beyond people trying to fix me.
And don’t get me started on my bipolar. No one, none of my providers, have done anything but throw medication at the problem (read: me), and suggest therapy. Except I can’t find an affordable, in-network therapist that is queer/asexually friendly.
My most recent attempt at therapy cost me $65 for half an hour, and I was told to medicate to fix my “low libido issue”. Fuck off with that.
Ugh. I guess I’ll be googling stuff in the near future.
Date day, this morning, kicked off about an hour after it was supposed to. We both slept in till almost eight. We were trying to be on the road sometime after seven thirty.
I went over to Tina’s place today to make cards. It was a lot of fun. But I really should have eaten or something before I went. Or during. I ate after, at least.
This blog started as me ranting, being pissed off and angry and a whole bunch of other emotions, at being diagnosed bipolar. But I realized, slowly, that it wasn’t an emotional death sentence.
4 Months Without Insulin Approval from My Health Insurance
I’m frustrated with the American healthcare system. It’s so broken. And I’m trying to keep my chin up, but damn is it hard.
I really don’t have more words in me right now. I hope my friends and family in Florida get through the hurricane safely and that tomorrow is a better day than today.
I skipped dinner this evening. My stomach is kind of upset for some reason, though all I’ve had today is a fairly moderate-sized salad with blue cheese dressing.