Firmly In The Closet

The other day one of the guys in my class, while he didn't mean to, really irked me. He saw one of my anthro characters on my notes, and asked me if I know this other student who apparently also draws furries. I told him no, I'd never met this person. And he said, "You should meet him- I bet y'all are soulmates!" Though I wanted to get annoyed at him, I simply said "Oh really?" and then stopped the conversation. After all, while it is a kind of dumb comment, he wasn't trying to be mean. He was just doing what everyone else in this state seems to do- assume that I'm straight.

I'm very gay. I'm gayer than the gayest rainbow, and if you don't believe me you can ask my ex-girlfriend. I'm also firmly in the closet. My close friends know, as do my parents, but all of my acquaintances and other relatives are in the dark on this one, and for good reason. For one thing I still have some issues. And for another, there are certain people who would not be open-minded if I told them and would most likely start trying to "change my mind". So I keep it to myself, which is one of many things that get in the way of any possible romantic relationship. But that's a story for another day.

I was raised in- how do I put this nicely?- one of the most backwards states in America. The whole time I was growing up I was told that I would find a boy, get married and have kids. I never bought the kids scenario, mainly because even as a child I wasn't into that idea. But I bought into the husband, even though I didn't think boys were that interesting. Every year at Christmas we would visit my dad's family, and the grownups would ask me and my girl cousins what we thought of boys. For awhile we all said "Yuck!" And then my cousins started to respond with interesting, or cute, or at least alright. And I stayed on yuck.

I always thought that was weird. I kept waiting to reach that age where I would think boys were attractive, but it never came. Even in my teens I just wasn't interested in the guys in my class. I feel like this should have been a red flag for me, but it wasn't. Everyone had always assumed I was straight, so I didn't even think to question it, and just made excuses.

That whole time I was assuming I was straight, I had massive crushes on other girls. It started in preschool, with this other girl in my class. I thought she was really pretty and I loved her hair. I followed her around because (I thought at the time) I really wanted to be friends with her. I was confused when she was mean to me and I still wanted to be her friend anyway, and I couldn't figure out why my feelings toward her (who I didn't even really know) were so strong.

It kept on all through elementary school. There was always a girl I thought was pretty and wanted to be friends with, and later I would wonder why. In the meantime I pretended to have crushes on boys because all the other girls were doing it- and at the time I remember assuming that they were all faking it too.

In middle school I would have crushes on teachers, which just really embarrassed me, especially when they were female. I would put those thoughts out of my mind and feel really wrong for thinking about them in any kind of a sexual way. I would beat myself up over it because I seriously thought I was just messed up. But still, even though I acknowledged those feelings enough to be ashamed, it didn't occur to me to question that I was straight. And by high school, when I finally first heard about homosexuality, I was so sick that I never thought to ask myself the important questions- I was too busy just surviving.

It wasn't until college that the realization hit me. I met a new friend through a PE class, and she seemed really nice. She invited me to her birthday party. It was really fun, because it was a tea party and all the people there were very friendly. I found out she had a girlfriend, and eventually it came out in conversation that almost everyone there was gay or bi. As I was leaving I thought about how funny it was that I was the only straight person there when I'd never had any gay friends before. And then I asked myself the question, and got an answer that I wasn't expecting. It was like my brain just froze, like it was jammed. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. And then I knew that I wasn't straight, and never had been. And I felt numb and weak with pure fear.

It was several months before I could really think about it again. The whole time I felt like I was in a dream. The fear followed me everywhere. I couldn't understand why I was having such a strong negative reaction to something that was just naturally me, but I couldn't shake it. Part of what bothered me was probably the fact that I was mistaken for so long. I pride myself on how introspective I am most of the time, and that I missed something so obvious for so long was really disturbing to me. But I also am a product of the environment I was brought up in. Though I had never thought homosexuality was wrong, and supported the fact that it's not a choice, it's different when it's you and not someone anonymous. All the things I heard growing up got dredged up again, and I couldn't help feeling like a freak of nature, like something was wrong with me, like I had somehow let my family down by not being "normal". It was hard. And I hid it from my friends for months even though I knew they wouldn't care. I avoided the new friend who had sparked the realization, which I regret because it was mean and I never explained myself later. I crawled into my shell and it took years to pry myself out.

It's been three and a half years now. I'm finally feeling like it's okay for me to be gay, and I've told all of my close friends. My parents know too, and have been very supportive as I knew they would be. I'm almost to the point where I think it would be alright for some other family members to know, chosen wisely of course. But I'm not ready to declare myself to new acquaintances, even as they openly assume I'm straight, and I don't know if I ever will be. It still smarts a little. And I don't want to risk any confrontations because it would be so easy to get hurt. The closet is so much safer.

Alien Seahorse Disease

Last night I dreamed that I was watching Stargate Atlantis. My mom had taped an episode neither of us had seen before. It was really bizarre, but in the dream seemed pretty normal for Stargate. In the episode, McKay (the head scientist guy) had managed to catch a weird alien disease that basically caused parts of him to turn into seahorses. Like, the ends of his fingers would start to morph into the head, and then a seahorse body would form out of the rest of his finger and it would eventually detach and swim off. The head doctor was catching the seahorses that detached and storing them in a water-filled container, trying to study them to come up with a cure. Of course McKay was freaking out, in character. At one point the seahorses started coming out of his mouth, and the doctor was worried because they had probably morphed out of important internal organs. They were just figuring it out when my mom came in and started watching the end. I paused it and told her it was a really good episode so she should watch it from the beginning, and ended up waiting on her to come back into the living room so I could start it over. I woke up before I got to see the end.

Today was better. I think I'm finally beginning to recover from working too hard this week. I turned in another finished project today, against the odds. Of course now I have another one to start to work on.

I haven't felt completely here the past two days. I've just been really out of it, and was even having to struggle through writing. But I feel more like myself today.

Slow Time

I somehow survived a long class today. I was worn out because of how hard I pushed myself yesterday. Plus, when I use caffeine to get through something, the next day is always harder. Yesterday I needed bubble tea to have the energy to figure out and finish my project, which worked well, but I started today on empty as a result. Luckily I was able to walk my dog on the treadmill again, this time while I sat next to it instead of standing up. I'm so glad I decided to try that because my dog is awesome and it works. A nap during a break in the middle of class also helped, but driving home was nerve-wracking and required very loud music and blasting air conditioning.

Today in my class people were going on about how fast this term is going by and how they can't believe it's already after midterms. But it seems like the opposite for me. Time crawls by, and at the end of the day it feels like I've been up for a week. I don't know if it's another weird Narcolepsy thing, an exhaustion thing or if it's just me.

For about ten years now, my perception of time has been off. Time used to fly by for me sometimes, and was normal speed the rest of the time, until I hit high school. During my freshman year, at the same time I started to get really sick, time began to slow way down. At first I assumed it had to do with how busy and stressed out I was, because high school was a lot harder. I would look forward to breaks only to have them take what seemed like years to arrive. As my health problems kicked in even more and my life became a hazy, exhausting battle to survive, days began to seem like weeks, weeks like months and months like years.

This was agonizing to me because at that point in my life I was constantly focused on making it to the next step. It took me most of college to change my attitude and learn to appreciate the day I'm in right now. At this point I'm pretty relaxed about the whole thing. I just go with the flow and do whatever I can manage at the moment, and though I still think and worry a lot about the future I no longer waste brain space wishing it was tomorrow already. And I just smile and nod when people say they can't believe it's already Thursday or August or 2009 or whenever. I still get regularly surprised when I'm remembering something from this morning and realize that no, it wasn't last week, it is in fact still the same day.

Speaking of classes, I had an online class that was about to start, and initially didn't want to but decided to drop it. I'm barely making it right now and really don't think I need a fourth class on top of everything else. Oh yeah, and I did manage to schedule my CAT scan at the new place for Monday afternoon. Pretty pictures... muahahaha.

Wake-Up Call

This morning I woke up really groggy and medicated, and my phone was vibrating on my nightstand so I reached over and picked it up, almost knocking multiple things over, and put it up to my ear. "Hello?" I said, worried about being coherent enough to respond if anyone answered.

Then I suddenly jerked awake, flat on my back. My phone was still on the nightstand. I realized I had just had another random hallucination, and that my alarm was going off. I took my next dose of medication and went back to sleep, kind of amused by the whole thing. And then when I really did wake up to my really-vibrating-this-time phone I didn't answer it because I figured I wasn't awake enough yet, but the fact that my hallucination actually managed to predict the future wasn't lost on me.

I'm definitely feeling the lowered dose at this point. I slept better than usual last night but today was really hard to get through. Part of the problem was that I overworked myself trying to get my Friday homework done, then continued to work past the point when I could tell I really needed to take a nap. And then when I did go upstairs with my trusty Nap Assistant, my dad managed to call me at the worst possible time and woke me up with all sorts of complicated insurance and CAT scan related information. I was too exhausted to get annoyed, which was good because he basically told me I have to cancel my appointment tomorrow and reschedule it with one of two completely separate places. I told him I would just do it later, which he accepted as soon as he realized that he had woken me up. I did get my nap after that, but was still really exhausted and out-of-it when it came time to leave for my night class. I basically just did my best to get through it, drove home to The Lion King soundtrack really loud and then treadmilled my dog instead of walking him again.

I'm actually really glad that my dad thought to go find out about the cost of my CAT scan because it turns out that we would have had to pay over $700 at the hospital where I had my appointment for tomorrow, and my dad found someplace where we ultimately get charged about $500 less. It's even more disturbing when you realize that the hospital actually charges a total of over $2000 if you include what our insurance company has to pay, whereas this non-hospital-affiliated imaging place charges 15 times less for the exact same procedure. It sounds like some twisted evil plot in a conspiracy theory movie, and yet this is our actual healthcare system. Welcome to the United States of America, where we like to make lots of great money by cheating sick people! My medication costs my insurance over $2000 a month, so you really don't want to get me started on this issue.

I'm just hoping I can get my homework done by Friday because it isn't looking promising at this point. I can't afford to overwork myself again tomorrow- I'm staving off another sinus infection and doing too much this week is going to screw me. Surviving class on Thursday and Friday will also be a challenge if today is any indication.

House Drama

This is most definitely my parents' house. Actually it's more my dad's house than anyone else's. It fits him perfectly and therefore makes me cringe. We love each other very much and have a very good relationship, but we're two very (very, very) different people with practically opposite interests and lifestyles. Obviously we also have differing taste in houses. What I mean by that is that I have taste and my dad doesn't, haha. I'm not trying to be mean, but seriously- if you've seen my house you know what I'm talking about.

The outside is very ugly. That's a little less colorful than how I tend to describe its appearance to myself while waiting at the next intersection over and being forced to look at it until the light changes. The first time you see it, it's almost normal looking. But if you keep looking you soon realize that everything from the window placement to the ugly pink brick just doesn't quite work together. It's like a study in bad design or something. The composition of it just isn't visually appealing, and if you care about those things you start trying to figure out how to rearrange it to make it better. To top it off, it belongs to a group of houses that all look similar- only the other houses have better architecture. And there's just too much pink brick involved on the block to be healthy.

The inside is more interesting and quite a bit better as far as architecture, except that this is cancelled out by the fact that the walls are all beige and the trim is a hideous shiny grey color. It's so incredibly boring that I just can't stand it. And of course my dad loves it in all its horrible boringness. At least my mom is on my side about the walls, and we're working on convincing my dad to add some color at least. Just about anything would be better.

But the appearance of the house isn't actually that important. What really gets me is how hard it is to live in. For one thing, three floors is too many stairs for my always-exhausted self. The one thing you don't want to do to someone who is a) tired and b) has to cook almost every meal herself is to put stairs between her room and the kitchen, or between homework and the couch, between all of her art supplies and the tv. Add to this equation a dog who must be carried because he can't get up the stairs otherwise, and who needs to be a couch nap-assistant part of the time but needs to go to the bathroom outside other times. To make this even more fun let's remember that I'm really good at forgetting important things and leaving them places, only to realize later that I left my phone downstairs or forgot to bring down a new trash bag or toilet paper or something else essential. The greatest time to do the stairs is when I run out of toilet paper in the middle of the night, have to trek upstairs to get more, bring it back down all while in some state of drugged sleepiness, hoping that I'm not about to fall down and break something.

As much as I hate the stairs, I've adapted all right- I think very hard before going up or down and most of the time these days I actually get where I'm going with what I need. But once I get upstairs, the kitchen makes me crazy.

It must have been designed for someone really tall. I can't even touch to bottom of the top shelf of the cabinets without standing on something. This makes it hard to get heavy things up and down because I'm not very strong. The layout of the kitchen is annoying because there's a rectangular island in the middle and really important things- the sink, stove, fridge and pantry- on each side of it. So when cooking I end up going in endless circles around the island, and I can't aim myself very well so I can't even count the number of times I've run into the corners painfully. The kitchen is also large and spread out, so you have to walk a lot while cooking. And trust me, I don't need more exercise. I end up more exhausted after cooking than is really necessary. To make it worse is the fact that my mom likes to go on about how great the kitchen is and how fun it is to cook in, when she very rarely cooks anything. I think she likes the look of it more than anything because trust me, it's not fun to cook in. It's exhausting. Trust me, I run smack into that island every freaking day while on my fifth trip around to the fridge.

And let's not forget the wonderful fact that the laundry room is on the top floor. My parents think it's so convenient because it's right next to their bedroom, which is great for them, but it means I have to haul my laundry up two flights of stairs. I've started doing smaller loads more often to avoid hurting myself, and enlisting parental help in carrying things up.

Recently I realized that my eagerness to move out had less to do with a need to feel more independent and more to do with a need to live somewhere that's easier on my body. I grew up in a one story house with a small kitchen, and during college lived in an apartment that was similar. Having everything on one floor leaves me with so much more energy to do other things. It's better for my dog, too. I really miss not wasting precious energy on the stairs all the time.

But as I start to consider the idea that I could be living with my parents for longer than I would like or had planned, I'm trying really hard to appreciate this house more. At the least, it's somewhere to safely live, and it's a loving environment despite the occasional drama. So I've been trying to focus more on what I like about my life here as much as I can- like cable on a nice big tv, watching thunderstorms from the balcony, and the gas stove which works a lot better than anything else I've had. Lately my attempts to feel better about the house have been working, more or less. And I am glad that my parents like it even if their gushing gets obnoxious sometimes.

Maybe someday I'll live somewhere easier, or my parents will find someplace to install an elevator, lol. But until then I'm just going to deal and do my best to appreciate having a safe place to be.

The Little Things

I finally got smart this morning and put my dog on my mom's treadmill instead of walking him. He took to it pretty well, though it was pretty funny because he kept wandering around on it at first. We found a speed that he liked, and I stood over him with my feet on either side so I could use the leash to keep him from jumping off. He did some experimenting with jumping up and down while it was going, which was cute. I'm just happy that he wasn't at all scared and got some good exercise. He walked while I stood for 45 minutes and we were both much happier today. I definitely think that this will work at least until there's no longer a hole in the bottom of my foot, and after that I'm thinking I might start doing one treadmill walk and one outdoors walk every day. That way we still get to explore the outside world, but he gets enough exercise and I don't get too much.

Because I didn't try to exercise this morning, I actually had a little extra energy. I still crashed after lunch and then again after errands, but I got a lot of little things done in between naps. I now have food and a mostly clean room, my trash is taken out, and the best part of all is that I'm not flat on the couch for the rest of the day as a result. Not like there isn't still a lot on my to-do list, but I've made a respectable amount of progress today and I'm just happy that it's going so much better than yesterday. Life is much more enjoyable when you're even slightly less exhausted.

Bad Day Rant

I had a really lousy day, so I just need to vent.

I started off my day walking my dog a lot farther than was probably wise. He's been misbehaving a little lately because I had a sinus infection for awhile and wasn't able to walk him for nearly two weeks, so he has extra built up energy that comes out every so often as anxiety and dominance. He was getting worse even after I started walking him again, and I got sick of him acting up, so a couple days ago I started taking him on much longer walks. At first it didn't cut into my already low energy level as much as I was expecting, and I was encouraged. He was a lot calmer and more relaxed afterwards which was great. Yesterday it was a little harder for me to walk him long enough because it turned out I was still tired from the day before. Today as soon as he woke up I could tell he was going to have an attitude, so I tried to prevent it with a very long walk this morning. Unfortunately I overdid it and so started my day off totally wiped.

So I'm already running on empty, but I decide to work on my homework anyway. I had just started what seemed like a promising hunt for amusing sound effects for my next project, which I'm a little worried about finishing on time because it will be difficult. My mom came downstairs and started to explain to me that my dad wants to delay my CAT scan (which I had already scheduled and everything) so that he can find out more about the cost and make sure our insurance is going to cover it. He wanted me to wait a couple of weeks. This rankled for many reasons, but the main one is that I'm already feeling the next sinus infection coming on. I don't know if I do want to do surgery, and I'm not going to decide until I have a lot more information, but I think the scan is an important first step and I really want to at least get somewhere towards finding a solution to this problem, which is getting worse every time and already almost caused me to drop a class this quarter. I'm getting more worried every day that I start to feel the next one coming on. So the idea of delaying that really got on my nerves. I'm not saying that taking a closer look at the possible cost of this isn't very important, but I'm trying to actually get something done here to improve my quality of life and my dad has a way of putting the brakes on these things. It aggravates me.

So I started trying to argue for doing the scan sooner rather than later, and dad came down and I have to confess that I exploded at him. I'm exhausted, I'm frustrated, I'm on my way to getting sick yet again, and I'm tired to death of dealing with my stupid health. Plus I've been worrying more than usual lately about whether it even makes sense to think I'm going to be able to support myself someday. All of this came to a head and I took it out on him because he was there and (to be fair to myself) he was standing in my way.

We argued. My mom mediated, and finally I agreed to reschedule the CAT scan for two days later to give him time to sort out the insurance junk. They both went back upstairs, and I was so spent from the arguing and the shouting and over-extending myself earlier that I just sat on my floor and cried my eyes out. I went through half a box of kleenex. Besides being tired, I think I just needed a good cry.

I'm barely into my 20s, at the prime of my life, and I hardly have the energy to take care of my very limited responsibilities. Right now I can't even get my dog enough exercise, and it's not like he's high energy. I'm just so exhausted that I'm barely making it. For the four years since my first diagnosis, I've been waiting around just hoping that someday I'll get better. That something will come along and fix me. And now I'm beginning to realize that the abysmal energy level that I have right now just might be my peak. How will I be doing twenty years from now, when I've managed to acquire even more of a sleep debt? How about when I'm sixty- will I even have the energy to get up? And if this is my peak, and I really don't think I have the physical ability to work full time now, how will I support myself? Working through this realization is very hard for me because I've always had a vision of my future, independent life. And it's beginning to sink in that I may always need some measure of help, financial and otherwise.

When I was done crying I hauled my dog up the stairs so we could watch tv and heat up some lunch. We spent a few hours on the couch, and I was still feeling pretty lousy when I finally decided I just really needed to get out of the house. The house makes me angry because of how everything about it makes my life harder, and I was starting to get upset again, so even though I really didn't have the energy I ran a couple of errands. It took caffeine to get me safely home afterwards.

I took my dog out into the yard when I got home and he started acting up despite the morning's long walk. I think he could tell I was on the point of falling over. On our way inside, to make my day even better, I misstepped and cut the bottom of my foot in what was yet another instance of me not being able to properly tell where things are in my environment. I got inside and realized that the first aid stuff that I needed was on the third floor. So I got to limp up two flights of stairs to take care of it, which I barely managed because I was beyond exhausted at that point. Then I landed on the couch and didn't move anymore.

My dad came downstairs and started making snide comments about the shows I was watching. I did my best to ignore him without being rude. My dog started to really push me more and more, and I could tell he was going to need another walk tonight. And I didn't know what the hell to do, because now I had an injured foot to add to this mess. Neither parent wanted to help, so I ended up taking him anyway and just limping around the neighborhood in pain until he had enough exercise. I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow because he's still going to need exercise and I'm going to have a painful foot for at least the next few days. Thanks, life.

Jurassic Park Family Fun

I had another installment in a long line of Jurassic Park-related dreams that goes back many years last night. These dreams tend to be frightening, but I always really enjoy them anyway because let's face it- dinosaurs are just freaking awesome, even as they try to eat you, lol.

There have been many variations, from random extra sequals to ones that were set up like a video game, in which I would die and find myself back a level and have to figure out the tricks to get past a repeat of what had just killed me. I even had a recurring Jurassic Park video game dream that stayed consistent for the year or two that I was working my way through the levels of it, which I eventually won in the end by beating the velociraptors to a reactor thing, which I then set to explode, escaped to a helicoptor on the roof and then flew off the island. But I digress.

Last night I was in Jurassic Park 3, which yes I have actually seen multiple times. It started off the same, with the hang gliders crashing on the island and one of them getting eaten and all that, only it was me, both parents and my grandmother that were going in to rescue them. Instead of a plane we drove over a (really long) bridge to get there. We discovered the nasty mostly-eaten guy (thanks Hollywood, I really appreciated that inspiration there), but then it went off on its own storyline, in which our rescue party was exploring and trying to figure out what had gone wrong at the facility. We forgot all about the hang-gliding thing, and instead were poking around inside this information museum/lab room trying to learn more. One of those not-yet-a-dinosaur Triassic period squatty animals came in and we got up on the furniture so he couldn't get at us. This isn't so bad, I was thinking. There's no way this one is going to eat anybody.

While we were up on the tables a velocirator showed up, like the movie version, not a real-life smaller one. And I was like, oh crap, because velociraptors are smart and fast and agile and full of I'm-eating-you-now win. My family members weren't too concerned, and I quickly realized that the velociraptor was putting up an illusion that it was human so we wouldn't realize what it really was until it was too late. This is a little difficult to explain if you haven't seen the anime Wolf's Rain, which my brain basically stole it from. In Wolf's Rain the main characters are actually wolves, but they have a magical ability to put up an illusion so that humans look at them and see humans instead of wolves. So this velociraptor apparently had this ability, and looked like a teenage girl, but I could totally tell what she really was by the way she was moving. She was holding her hands up next to her chest and leaning forward and walking on the balls of her feet. She also didn't blink at all and held her eyes open really wide like a dinosaur would. It was very creepy, because she also had this dino-esque fixed wide grin. She came up behind my grandmother and put her long hands on her shoulders. I managed to signal everyone without her noticing and when she had wandered around to the other side of the room, we all jumped up and grabbed onto the warehouse-like metal beams in the ceiling and got high enough that she couldn't reach. We stayed up there a long time after she finally gave up and left, too afraid to come down.

After that we found about 30 people trapped in a big room who apparently needed rescuing. We freed them, and then kept all getting split up, but luckily I had a handheld person sensor thing (like in Stargate Atlantis) on my iphone (there's an interesting app for you, haha) that even had everyone's name next to where they were on a map, so we started trying to round everyone up. I was getting frustrated at this task, and increasingly worried about dinosaurs eating us before we could escape with everyone, but then I woke up.

In my personal opinion, it was a little light on the dinosaur action, but I think the Wolf's Rain inspired velociraptor girl is awesome enough to make up for it. I drew her today in my class during a break and I think she just might make my character list. If I have the energy I'm definitely going to draw and color a nicer reference for her, and I'll be thinking about a name.

I actually felt pretty good today. I definitely think the lower dose is helping. It also helped that my class had a long break in the middle of it so I had a chance to rest between my midterm and learning new material. I also got to spend quality time with my dog and went to dinner with my mom, who I haven't seen much of for a couple of weeks. So all in all I couldn't ask for a better day.

Knocked Out

Apparently our next door neighbors' air conditioner was malfunctioning very loudly last night, right outside my window. It kept my parents (two floors up) awake for most of the night. Luckily for me, I had my nightly date-rape drug to knock me out. Seriously, I didn't hear a damn thing. I didn't even know anything had happened until my dad asked me about it this afternoon. If I did hear it between doses, which I really might have, I don't have any memory of it at all. Similar things have happened to me before. I've slept through my mom setting off the burglar alarm on accident by getting home late, police being called and coming to our house to stop people from trespassing on our property (and my room is right across from the front door, lol), lots of parental noise including opening and shutting of our loud garage door (my room also shares a wall with the garage), delivery of large furniture which was apparently carried up multiple floors to loud banging and scraping that I didn't even hear, and last but not least a category 3 hurricane.

On the one hand I think the fact that I sleep (read: am knocked out) through just about everything is hilarious. I also like it as a welcome change from my non-medicated REM!Awake!REM! cycle from before, at which anything could and would wake me up and/or trigger paralyzed hallucinating, etc. On the other hand it kind of scares me, because I seriously wonder if I would even hear the fire alarm if it went off. At least I'm right next to an exit? It's also scary because people can come right into my room and I don't have a clue- my dad has borrowed my car keys before without me even turning over. You know it's messed up when you can hallucinate people in your bedroom, but if anyone actually comes in then you don't even know.

As eerie as it is sometimes, I've found being knocked out to be an advantage more often than not. I need all the sleep I can get after all. So keep it up, loud obnoxious noises of the world. I WIN.

It Must Be The Shirt

Last night I dreamed about going to my ENT appointment. It was in a (real life) building that I've had appointments in before even though I hadn't been there in several years, and I recognized the lobby in my dream. I was wandering around the gift shop, food and elevators area because I was so early that there was no point in going up to my seventh floor appointment yet. I ended up talking to random people, who invited me to come eat lunch with them, and I agreed because they were nice and I was bored. I wasn't counting on actually eating there because of my ever-present food restrictions, but ended up with a pretty tasty salad that I ate even though I wasn't particularly hungry. I talked a little but mostly listened to their conversation. Eventually most of them left, but a nice older gentleman was also waiting at the restaurant and I ended up explaining narcolepsy to him. After awhile I ran into a friend who I haven't seen (in real life) because she's been travelling a lot, and I was really excited to see her and we went back to my (old) house to chat and exchange artwork. I never did get to that appointment, lol. Eventually that dream morphed into something crazy about me getting a part-time job at an insane technology museum that I mostly don't remember- except that inside it was a volcano. o.O

Today I really did have my ENT appointment. I also had multiple errands to run beforehand, which I managed alright. I was tired before I even left, but that's life. Like in the dream, I got there very early because it's been awhile since I've been to that particularly confusing part of town. I managed to find it and park without mishap, and when I walked out of the elevator I was a little disconcerted by how exactly my dream had remembered this particular building. Like I said, I haven't been there in awhile- several years, even- but the summer I was diagnosed with Narcolepsy two of the doctors involved were in that building. I was there a lot for those couple of months and it obviously made an impression on me.

Also funny was the fact that random people kept striking up conversations with me- in elevators especially. Usually I'm pretty quiet and people don't do that, but I do enjoy it when people are being friendly. It was hilarious because I had dreamed the same thing. Later on that day, after running another errand after the appointment (and having more random people talk to me) I realized that it was probably my shirt. I was dressed pretty nicely today, since I had somewhere to go besides class or walkng my dog, and I think people picked up on that. I've noticed that when I wear my nicest shirt more people talk to me than when I'm wearing something else. The same goes for skirts, actually. No matter what I'm wearing I always smile at people, but when I look especially nice they're more likely to make small talk.

The appointment (which I did get to in real life, lol) went okay. The ENT was very nice and actually knew about Celiac disease, which was a plus. I did have to explain Narcolepsy to him, which I managed without getting too complicated, and he decided to get a CAT scan of my sinuses so we can really see what's going on (which makes sense, because the inside of my nose is anatomically messed up). He's thinking that the way my inner nose is set up is literally trapping mucus so that I've got a constant bacterial infection going on. Which is probably at least part of the problem. He wants to do surgery to correct it if that turns out to be the case, and thinks that once that is fixed I will stop having the constant sinus infection issue.

I'm a little skeptical that the deviated septum is the only problem, since I have two auto-immune diseases, but I'm willing to hear him out. Plus I want to do the CAT scan because they're so incredibly cool. I figure they'll do my whole head and I get to see my skull and eyeballs and brainssssss.... muahahaha!

That said, it wasn't the best appointment because I had a bunch of questions enter and then promptly leave my head, and there were multiple things that I forgot to bring up that were kind of important. So once my CAT scan results come in I'm bringing a parent as backup, lol. Both of my parents have mostly unmushy brains, and actually think of questions and do smart things like bring lists. So I think next time will go much better in the presence-of-mind department- with an addition of a functional mind to the equation. You know, maybe while they're digging around my nose they should just give me a brain transplant.