A lot of times it feels like I’m going nuts. It’s nothing definite, just a feeling I have.
The reason I think I’m going crazy is because of Menieres disease. I’ve got it…..or at least that’s what the ENT guy said, but he wouldn’t give a 100% certainty rating.
Doctors rarely ever do. Anytime there’s even the slightest doubt, they always seem to prevaricate, or provide a few caveats.
“Well Mr. Gaunt, it looks almost certain that you have Menieres disease. I can’t be 100% certain, but I’m about 99% sure. We could run a few more tests at several thousand dollars a pop, or……”
I usually opt for the “or” part and avoid paying scads more money out of pocket for that extra 1% certainty. Either way, I know I’ve got crazy ringing/roaring in my ears, occasional episodes of vertigo and rare (so far) bouts of nausea. I’m 100% sure of that, no further testing necessary.
I could do drugs to (supposedly) limit the symptoms, but……nah. Not yet, let’s see how things go; if it gets worse than…..maybe. Of course, if the constant ringing “feedback” I have finally does drive me completely crazy, I may not need the meds anyway.
If I was really fed up, I could change my eating habits, and cut out salt too. Supposedly that helps. But I hate changing things. I’m not real good with change. In fact, change for change’s sake sucks…..or could suck.
Change could also be okay, but more than likely it’s going to suck, at least for someone…..probably me.
Did I say I don’t like change? I don’t like change. It’s not that I am boring (okay, I probably am), but I just like things to be where, when, how, I want them and expect them to be. Like this morning.
This morning I stopped at my usual morning coffee pit stop; the local QT convenience store, and ran face first into some change.
The first problem was that someone had parked in MY parking spot. The audacity! I mean, I don’t have a sign, but since I stop there EVERY Monday – Friday at about the SAME time each morning, then everyone should know that it’s MY spot right? Easy in, easy out. That’s one reason I chose it, and now some assface was using it.
Grumbling about the rudeness of it all (and it was even an ugly stupid car) I walked inside to get my joe.
When I reached for a 20oz. cup from the dispenser, the colors were wrong. The middle cup (16oz, 20oz. 24oz.) was some weird, different shade of tangerine or something. For a second I thought they had loaded the wrong cups in the middle dispenser but no, it was a new cup.
A thick, styro-fucking-foam cup.
The old ones were Styrofoam too, but they were thin, and had nice dimples on the bottom that felt right holding it while I drank. These were big, fat, ugly cups with the the QT label wrapped around them and no cute dimples.
Unnecessary change. Aaaarrrrgh!!
So I try to do my coffee routine, except it isn’t routine now. Now I have to find a new mark on the cup to judge my sugar pouring by. You see, I also used the little dimples on the old cup to make sure my sugar input was accurate and consistent every day. It’s going to take a few trial and error attempts to get the right amount of sugar. I don’t like trial and error either.
After dispensing the cream / flavor shit from the automatic machines (which never work right) I stirred with the new thicker straws they had changed out a couple months back and grabbed a lid. Wrong size. The old lids don’t work with the new styro-fucking-foam cups so now I have to use a different lid.
Sheesh!
Well, at least the lids seem to be a design improvement over the old ones. They have the little flip over tab to close up the sippy hole. For a chronic spill-fool like me, closing the sippy hole is always a good idea if you aren’t actively drinking. So you see, some change is okay, but the lousy usually outweighs the good. And all change upsets my routine.
The reason I like routine is that I can let my mind wander to pleasant thoughts while I go through the motions of living. I probably look like a mouth-breather while I mentally wander, but I don’t care, it’s my happy time inside my head. But change?.....change makes me think of strange things.
I start reminiscing about childhood, bad parenting, grade school failure, disastrous relationships and shit like that.
Which then makes me realize that I’m getting older, and if the apocalypse is going to come, it had better get here soon or I won’t have the energy, strength, or…….whatever…… left over to kick ass and kill zombies.
Because kicking ass and killing zombies is what the apocalypse is all about right?
I think the apocalypse will happen when a huge asteroid or comet impact (remember Shoemaker-Levy 9?) causes an almost extinction level event and brings in alien viruses from outer space. We’ll all die eventually, but in the meantime there will be plenty of ass kicking and zombie killing to do.
If it’s going to happen, I hope it does before I need to use a walker and hearing aid. No one can kill zombies if they have to hold on to a walker and can’t hear ‘em coming. Have you ever seen a hero in a zombie flick that scootches around using a walker? I haven’t, and judging from the rate of deterioration I feel like is happening with my body, I’ve got a couple years left before I am just zombie food.
Which brings up this thought; apocalypse happens to every person at some point. Whether it’s death dealing cancer, heart attack, bear mauling, garbage truck smack down, or being eaten by sharks, everyone suffers their own personal apocalypse at some point eh?
Usually it’s totally unexpected, and often happens when the person is old and decrepit.
Maybe that’s why zombie apocalypse stuff appeals to people because you can see it coming. That gives you the opportunity to scream a lot and kill the undead in the process, but eventually you’ll be zombie food, or worm food, or something.
I’m okay with that, I’ll be crazy by then anyway; wandering around, listening to the loud ringing in my ears, mouth-breathing and grumbling about how things have changed so damn much.
No comments:
Post a Comment