I am going bonkers.
Since Friday I’ve added paranoia to paranoia and anxiety to depression. Before last week I was pretty much settled on the idea that I have a terrible condition I’d have to live with–enough to be depressed over but something I could adjust to.
But then came the tests. Houston VA says, “maybe there is something.”
Then came the apt’s for a cath. People say it’s no big deal, most of my family have had them, it has me freaked. I’m just 50. If I’m screwed up this bad now, how long do I really have?
I know. I’m being stupid. But so what? I was born stupid and got worse. What I don’t like is not knowing. And I just don’t know. I hate not knowing. Not knowing is driving me crazy.
I don’t want to look at the computer but I sit here self-diagnosing.
I want a drink but can’t drink.
I have to go.
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