Do you know what we should do? Rewind’s last message. It was pieced up together using small fragments of recordings. We could voice them. We are a big fandom. Think about it. Different people. Different voices. Different accents.
Then one person then puts them together… And voilà! Rewind’s message!
And finally we send it to J. Roberts to show him our love.
To the Razaya fans who were disappointed or upset that Razer didn’t really show any outward emotional reaction (
let’s just go with that even though we all know i mean ANGST) in response to what happened in Cold Fury, I’ll save you my rambles and just point you to two men who can explain it all far better than I.
Things that are keeping me up
I am having anxiety dreams about my rheumatologist.
I am relieved to have a diagnosis and grateful it is only Crohn’s, but tired of people making me feel like it’s nothing to worry about—like I came down with a cold or something. It’s been something very real and very difficult for me. Trust me, I realize it’s not cancer or something life threatening and I am so grateful for that, but it’s been a rough three months for me and it’s something I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life and every case is different. Some people have one flare-up and that’s it. Others have several and lose their entire colon. If this situation has taught me anything, it’s that life has its own plans and nothing is guaranteed.
Similarly, I was speaking with my father tonight and seriously, unless you have cancer like he had, I really believe he doesn’t think you’re really sick. Or maybe he’s trying to not worry me. I don’t know. Ever since I got sick he’s been seemingly nonchalant about everything. I respect and love him because he is truly the greatest man I know, but we are such different people.
If one more person offers me a diet plan that will “magically” fix my Crohn’s, I’m going to break their face…just as soon as my arthritis clears up.
I am tired of all the medication. Still on Prednisone, higher levels of Methotrexate, and will be starting Remicade in a week and a half.
I am worried about the cost of everything. Even with the great insurance I am blessed enough to have, out of pocket won’t be chump change. Remicade is one expensive drug.
I am scared shitless that they won’t be able to find a vein the day of my first infusion and/or it’ll be a blood bath trying to get one, which is only funny because they need to draw blood from the same vein as well. The nurse he has in his office is very cool, but a shitty draw. I’ve been requesting to go to Quest all this time because she’s butchered me every time. She gave me a pneumococcal vaccine the other day and the shit was running down my arm.
I am even more scared that this treatment won’t work.
I’m frustrated with the idea of Remicade being my Hail Mary Pass.
I am fucking sick and tired of being sick and tired.
I am so frustrated with the cards I’ve been dealt and have maintained such a positive outlook for so long, but dammit all I want to do is ride my bike and break some boards.
I could easily work out this frustration with a good TKD class or a ride through Central Park. Oh, wait…
Holy shit cabs are expensive, and PS I hate gypsy cabs.
I want my independence back (said in the same growl that Jodie Foster uses for “I want my dog back”).
I hate that my wife has to deal with this. I hate that because I’m sick she has had to carry so much burden. I hate that financially she gets short-changed cause everything is so damn expensive. I know she wants certain things that she should want like a vacation, etc and she never asks for anything ever and I want to give her the world, but with this obstacle she now just can’t have them easily and this kills me inside. It makes me feel like a failure as a wife, a burden and a liability. She deserves so much more than I am giving her right now. I hate that she has to worry about little things because we are so focused on the big picture.
I hate that I’ve learned which friends can be counted on through hard times, but surprised and even more grateful for the ones who have been there.
I am incredibly impatient. My wife reminded the other week about how far I’ve come. How easily I’ve forgotten that in November I could barely unfurl my hands.
What strength I do have, I draw from my wife.
This city is a fucking beast in many different ways to those who are physically challenged. I am lucky as I will be OK, but holy shit do I have a deeper respect, compassion and admiration for those who won’t.
I am embarrassed by this post. I swear, I have by and large been really positive and not a total whining and depressed pain in the ass for the past three months. And I will go back to my positive, humorous self, but I needed to get this all out because my anxiety has awoken me at 2 AM.
Let me reiterate: I do know how lucky I am. Trust me, I’ve been a model of positivity. And now I definitely don’t sweat the small stuff, and really hate complaining because I’ve learned so much. I am so incredibly grateful for my wife, our life, our families and our friends. And it could be so much worse. I am well-aware of how blessed and fortunate I am. I am simply exhausted.
I am relieved that after two months of seeing his face regularly, I finally figured out who my rheumatologist resembles: the actor Austin Pendleton.
You can send all violin music to:
Bite My Ass
c/o Don’t worry, I’ll stop bitching now
- You know, I can see Stiles drunk-dialling Jackson all the time.
- Jackson: *picks up phone* Wha--It's four in the morning. Who--
- Stiles: YER AN ASSHOLE. *click*
- Jackson: ...
- A minute later
- Jackson: Who is this--
- Stiles: SHE'S MY STRAWBERRY BLONDEDED QUEEN, YOU FUCKING HOMEWRECKER.
- Jackson: Stilinski?
- Stiles: *click*
- Another minute
- Jackson: Stilinski, seriously, what the--
- Stiles: Sometimes I imagine having two dicks.
- Jackson: What.