[Sober Living] Sicker Each Day

“I see that you are becoming sicker by the day and I am very sorry this is taking the time it has taken.[1]” While I advocate for learning to endure the minor stressors of life, when all that shit piles up, without any hope of seeing through it, that’s when you take all that evidence, and say to everyone in the most work-safe, politically-correct way possible: what the actual fuck? I’m sick of being sick.

My symptoms are worsening along with my patience.

I can now balance my eye strain between wearing my glasses and getting eye strain then migraines under minimal light versus wearing a ten-year-old sunglass prescription so I don’t get those migraines but, instead, I get nauseous, dizzy, and so I need to keep one eye closed. Either my glasses or sunglasses arrived today. I’ll wait for both to arrive before I pick them up, unless I’m too tired of dealing with all these eye problems, then I might just waste the trip. I’m planning to get two other sunglasses to switch in now that I should have an updated, workable prescription.

I’m not able to sleep well with all these headaches.

I woke up hours too early with pangs subtly knocking around my head, like you might hear from an engine that’s knocking, which I’ve felt before over the years but not enough to rattle me awake. I forget the last time I’ve had over six hours of sleep. I didn’t have this problem the last time I worked night shift, where I had trouble sleeping, but I also worked four 10-hour shifts, so I’d switch to days on my days off so I could hang out with friends and day-walk, but I was also in my early 20s. The eye doctor [Doctor-Number-Six] wasn’t concerned about me working night shift and didn’t suspect these problems were related. I assume that whenever I see the headache-specializing-neurologist [Doctor-Number-Eight?], and we get this 15-day pressure headache fixed, then I can see if it is the night shift or something else.

My willpower has decreased significantly.

When my health is good, I can maintain a good diet and can push aside mild hunger. When I’m feeling like this, I’ll eat more and more, then more again, because being hungry and feeling this sick really is too much.

There’s that regular-glasses eye strain.

More than all this, because this is just minor physical stuff I can manage myself, I’m getting sick of all this shit over taking too long. They were dragging their feet so I wrote harsh words toward everyone involved. I told them about how I’ve been telling my supervisors, naturally checking in as one would for any human being in perceived pain, that they’ve been disinterested in helping me out. I told them how at this point I’m looking for any help or any relief. I even started up a new case because, as I wrote, the current person that had been assigned to my case was unresponsive and when they did respond were not prompt and not polite.

I used harsher terms and wrote less abstractly than the paragraph above.

I wrote those messages to the insurance company in a rare moment of clear thought. This pressure headache I’ve had for over two weeks now basically means that I have trouble concentrating. I can still do things and I can still think and learn new information, but… … … … … … … … … … where were we? Sorry, I didn’t quite understand the question. Especially after I use up my energy, I’m just left feeling spaced out, and I don’t even get the pleasurable high before.

There’s more eye strain.

I would go tomorrow morning to pick up my glasses, but I woke up to some bad headache pains and I’m tired now. It was snowing yesterday so who knows how the weather will turn out? The roads were free but by the time I drove into my work-city, the roads were that first-snow slush that made driving anything over single-digits more precarious than necessary. I had hoped I would be snowed in so I could go to sleep. FMLA doesn’t guarantee I’ll get to keep my job until I’ve been employed for one year, so even though all the above, and all the essays I’ve written should indicate to anyone with any degree of human empathy that, uhhh-dude-ummm get some rest, take care of yourself, feel better soon… well, there is a very real chance I could be written up then have my employment terminated if I use up more sick leave than I absolutely must.

I’m part of the working sick now.

If I can ever feel normal again, if I can ever return to a place where these headaches are in the past, and if I can ever figure out a way out of the corporate system, I will. When I talked with my manager about my short-term disability, he was not concerned over my well-being other than the generic platitudes one must give. Doctor-Number-Five wrote me a two-week note stating I must take a 15-minute break after every hour at the computer. I’ll paraphrase what my manager told me only because my head is spinning right now: ‘well, if we get really busy, you’ll need to skip that.’

I’m feeling nauseous because of coffee [80%] and that corporate bullshit [20%].

I think I should have written this essay with my sunglasses on because I can handle the dizziness but I can’t handle the one to three minutes sat frozen, waiting for the migraines to subside. They remind me of the videogame Heart of Darkness, where you can dodge some enemies by standing still.

I feel so tired and weak right now.

Yet I must press on. There is no other alternative for me. I must wait. I am at the mercy of external forces. I can go to urgent cares, but they’ll refer me in the same direction, and give me medication that could help…

I must keep moving forward. No sleep…

Endtable:
Quotes: [1] A response from the first person at the insurance place that actually seemed to care. Quoted because, hey, where else can I quote someone admitting that this process has taken far too long already – and we’re not even at the point when I approve the scheduled appointment with the headache-specialized neurologist. I imagine I’m roughly a third of the way through this process now. There’s the meeting, which is the second-third, then applying the doctor’s fixes, which would then conclude this Headache Horrors saga, which is roughly what I’m thinking of calling it, if I did anything with it other than just used it for writing material.
Sources: My personal and professional experiences.
Inspirations: How I’m feeling.
Related: Other Sober Living essays.
Picture: No time for pictures.
Written On: 2020 January 13 [37 minutes, from 7:54pm to 8:31pm while listening to Motörhead, WordPress.]
Last Edited: 2020 January 13 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]

 

My big goal is writing. My most important goal is writing "The Story." All other goals should work toward that central goal. My proudest moment is the most recent time I overcame some fear, which should have been today. I'm a better zombie than I was yesterday. I'm not better than you and you're not better than me. Let's strive to be better every day.