* I started my busy day today by waking up unable to breathe worth a crap. As a stalling tactic, rather than cut straight to getting that sorted out I failed to answer Hotter's questions about what my doctor would suggest next to his satisfaction (I didn't know, and it wasn't going to matter how many ways he rephrased the question), then hung around while he screamed at me and punched the wall.
* Having exhausted all means of delaying the inevitable, and been unable to get ahold of my doctor, I finally proceeded to the ER, where I passed the time between tests by arguing with my landlord about whether or not he is legally obligated to provide indoor plumbing. Falling back on my many years in individual and couples therapy, I made I statements, avoided the words always and never, and did a lot of "I hear you when you say we should just move out, but that would still leave you with a house you cannot legally rent or sell due to catastrophic plumbing issues so I don't think it's a very good solution for you, plus we have a three-year lease that is legally binding on both ends."
* They diagnosed me with some truly horrible shit that doesn't bear mentioning and could go either way. I can tell I'm fucked this time because not only did the ER doctor cry and hug me, but the billing office also waived my deductible and told me to come back any time I needed to and not worry about the money. Plus in addition to three prescriptions to help me breathe they gave me liquid hydrocodone and a bottle of Xanax. Tears from hardened ER docs + hospitals telling you don't worry about money + free-flowing good drugs = fucked. Also they pressed me to fill out an advanced directive and make some decisions about what I would want in the event that x, y, and z (since it appears that I am going to end up without an emergency contact in the very near future, let's everybody agree that in the event I can no longer breathe unassisted I want ALL THE DRUGS and NONE OF THE LIFE SUPPORT, and whichever of you whose phone number I have gets the random call just tell whoever it is that that is the plan, okay? And I am down with donating anything anyone can use and my driver's license says so, but caveat emptor).
* I left the ER in a grim mood and found that I had missed several calls from Only Living Relative's caregiver. Figuring it was best to face whatever that was head-on, I called her back. Apparently, Only Living Relative was having a bad brain day and was belligerent and combative. He was asking to come and live with me instead of her and she was starting to think that might be a great idea. Failing that, she wanted me to try and talk him down and help him get reoriented. So I multi-tasked at the pharmacy! "YES, THAT IS ME, MFA MAMA, HIIII! I'M YOUR RELATIVE! NO I AM ALL GROWN UP AND MARRIED WITH CHILDREN. YES, I AM LEGALLY MARRIED. TO HOTTER. HOTTER! YOU MIGHT BE CONFUSED BECAUSE I WAS MARRIED TO THE XY BEFORE, BUT HE WAS A JERK SO I DIVORCED HIM AND MARRIED HOTTER (yes, all five of them, I'll wait) I DO NOT LIVE IN CALIFORNIA AND NEITHER DO YOU (yes, allergic to Penicillin, Cephlasporin, and Sulfa) NO, NO, I DO NOT MAKE ANYONE'S BANKING DECISIONS EXCEPT MY OWN, I AM A WAITRESS (generic is fine) IN HOMESTATE. HOOOOOME STAAAAAATE. ON THE EAST COAST (same insurance) NO THERE ARE NO BODIES, NORMA IS TELLING YOU THE TRUTH, NO *I* AM MFA MAMA. THE XY WAS A JERK. HOTTER IS NOT A JERK AND WE ARE VERY HAPPY, I LIKE MY JOB, IN HOMESTATE, AS A WAITRESS, NOTHING TO DO WITH BANKS. (Oh do you have any for him? Yes those too then) IT IS OKAY I DON'T MIND, IT IS OKAY TO BE CONFUSED, BUT NORMA IS A GOOD PERSON AND SHE IS ON YOUR SIDE, YOU CAN TRUST HER. YES, YES, YOU WERE PATIENT WITH ME WHEN I WAS A CHILD AND I HAD A WONDERFUL CHILDHOOD, SO I WILL BE PATIENT WITH YOU NOW. YES, VERY HAPPY! I LOVE YOU AND EVERYTHING IS FINE!"
* So I think Hotter hates me now (he said that when I am not on any painkillers or benzodiazepines we need to have "a long talk" and I wish he'd just ask me for a divorce while I'm nice and high), I probably have to move, and it's possible I will not survive what currently ails me, but at least the only person I might turn to doesn't know who I am and that I'm a huge fucking liar. I accomplished so much today! Can't wait to see what's next!
* God I love Xanax. I can tell this is really awful, but I can also laugh at me, half-dead, screaming in the middle of the pharmacy that I am happily married and have a wonderful life and had an idyllic childhood and everything is FABULOUS. I couldn't write that shit and have it survive a workshop but what a shame, because it's also kind of funny, innit?
P.S. I can also tell I'm screwed because I can't even say anything snarky about the resident in the ER crying with me and giving me a hug and offering me Xanax. She made me feel heard, and not that the competition is very stiff but it was actually the best thing that happened today, and exactly what I needed, and I hope that resident has a wonderful life.