Apr. 20th, 2012

naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Thane)
Today was very bad, and I considered -- briefly -- posting one of those alarming and cryptic "I have forgotten what hope even feels like and all my dreams are rubble" updates that tell nothing, vaguely threaten, and tend to disturb everyone who reads them. Decided not to, and will save it for when I know more and am less upset and won't just worry everyone. It's mental health stuff, so it's not like it's anything new. I'm all right, I'll be all right, I just don't feel like it right now. But I know that's how this shit works, and I'm not playing that game. I lost my shit earlier, and that is enough.

I do feel considerably better about one thing after FINALLY seeing the dermatologist. He walked in the room, took one look at me, and said "ROSACEA FULMINANS." And now I have a bunch of samples of something new, a prescription for some other stuff, and an appointment in three months. I don't know if I've discussed my horrible ongoing skin problem here enough for people to remember I have it, but there it is. I've been a flared-up, crusty, pimple-covered mess for months now, it fucking hurts, it's ugly, and I have had enough.

He did confirm that my skin care regimen is not making it worse, and that I've been basically doing everything right, so this is in no way my fault. I knew that, but it was good to hear.

I hope this stuff works. And I have hope that it will. Which are two different things, you know. So cross your fingers for that. If I could have just one less thing to deal with, one fewer painful thing jabbing me every couple of minutes, the rest of it would be a little easier.

Etrigan went with Sargon to the vet today, and we really do think it's asthma. So he's on prednisone, and we'll see how that works out. I will keep you updated as we learn anything. I really don't want this to be a chronic drain on our resources, but I love the little bastard, I love him so much, and there's no way I'm sending him to live with anyone else. He is so stupid, which means he does everything with singular delight, and it's hilarious to watch. And he is learning to cuddle. When he does, it is epic, he is a wonderful cuddler if he is in the mood for it. When he's not, it's like trying to hold on to an angry squid. That farts. It's hard to love him, he's kind of a butthole, but once you do, you can't really stop.

The money you all donated for his vet care has made all the difference. What we haven't used will unfortunately have to get put toward medical care for me, but that's worthy, I suppose. I am also an excellent cuddler, when I want to be.

Right now there are so many things to do and to deal with, and I feel like everything is running away from me like sand. Things aren't good. Not even close. Oh my god, no. Not even close. But there are things I still love, like bags of My Little Pony hair and new Sharpies, and my one-eyed cat looks at me with such awkward affection that he doesn't know how to express, and my husband is the best backup ever, and I have friends who are there if I need them, for real, and I have my imaginary people who are there when nobody else can be, and maybe that's enough to get me through.

Maybe that's enough.

Well, that and a buncha this:



naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)

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