I don't feel like being poetic today. I don't feel like being demure or docile, gentle or patient. I want to punch holes through the thin walls of my apartment. I want to kick down some doors and scream and cry like an incessant three-year-old child. That--that's what I want.
What am I going to do instead? Clean things. Take care of Katie. Make dinner.
But I hate this.
I could normally becalm myself by saying that it could be worse, could be cancer. Maybe that I can have better control.
But none of that shit matters, none of those excuses, matter, when I have an empty vial of insulin and I have to climb sixteen fucking bureaucratic ladders of bullshit as the Victim to get more.
I have to sit in a chair and have somebody who read about my life out of textbooks say, You're doing everything you can do. Try XyC instead of Xyb, because that might make a difference. I have to listen of two hours of some doctor guess. Guess about my life and lifestyle.
Oh, those doctors aren't there when my girlfriend has to revive me from seizures. Those people behind the counter at Walgreen's aren't going to have to make the phone call to my mother of, yes, mom, we are out of insulin, yes, mom, please could we borrow the money so we don't go into a coma and die?
I shouldn't be dependent on other people for a condition that is with me until I die, probably five to ten years younger than most people my age will die. I should be able to get insulin myself. I don't need a prescription, I don't need the "free consultation" that everybody offers. I need my insulin, my supplies, an R2D2--and that's fucking it. That is all.
I understand bolusing and basaling. I get it. I fucking comprehend that if I test my blood sugar sixteen times a day and program my pump with eleventy-hundred basal rates, my blood sugar will be perfect until the day I trip over the million things I can trip over. The week I'm at the beach, the day I under bolus for dinner because it's weird foreign food I've never had and I didn't want to take a half hour to figure it out. Or maybe the day I'm at the Zoo and I run out of test strips because it was a surprise trip and I thought we were only going to breakfast.
Fuck this.
Fuck this.
I hate this. I hate this and there's nothing I can do, nothing anyone can do.
For the first time in my life, I'm not reasonable. I'm not going to be patient and kind. I'm going to be jaded and fractious.
Even with Katie, it feels like almost nothing is going right right now.
Nothing.
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