It must be a record (for me, anyways). I was writing an e-mail to my cousin in Maine, and realized, about 1/4 of the way through, that it was hideously depressing and gloomy. I know that if I sent it as it was, she would be worried, and since it's just a case of me feeling sorry for myself and hoping someone would listen, I cut it up a bit, decided to post it here instead.
I know I've yet to give a clear idea of what my illness is (as if even I had a clue), but it's more because I haven't figured out exactly how to explain it all. Regardless, what I'm feeling today is pretty self explanatory, and should stand up well all on its own.
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The doctor called with some more blood test results, saying how he noticed I have a very low XYZ level. This is not good, he says, as far as other things go. So take these pills, and it should give you a little boost at least. Mom, who just happens to have been in a mood quite opposite to my own, says something about magic bullets, and cure-alls, and I seriously, don't know whether to throw up, cry, or punch her in the face.
How horrible is that?
Hating her for hoping?
It's ridiculous!
But, I've taken these pills before, so I know they're not the magic bullet/cure that she's hoping for and I just all of the sudden wanted to scream at her for even thinking it - for making me think it, for even a second. So, there are days, lots of tiny little days, were I just hate this whole thing - hate that I can't even let other people hope, because it hurts me too much when I disappoint them. And that's the kind of day I'm having.
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