So the diagnosis is indeed conjunctivitis. Yippee. Asa bonus though, there is also another stye too. I guess I have one in each eye. Jackpot, or something.
Here is a picture of a cat to cheer my sick eyes up a little.
So the diagnosis is indeed conjunctivitis. Yippee. Asa bonus though, there is also another stye too. I guess I have one in each eye. Jackpot, or something.
Here is a picture of a cat to cheer my sick eyes up a little.
At an urgent care place. They are playing Xmas music. I would literally go insane if I worked here.
I’m taking bets on the diagnosis. The smart money is on conjunctivitis.
Piiiiiink eyeeeeeee.
I just booked a doctor’s appointment for after work tonight.
I think I have…
Conjunctivitis.
In other words…
(say this like zombie Pip from the first Halloween episode of South Park)
Piiiiink eyeeeeeee.
Crud.
There’s something up with my eye. My left eye is all red and sore. I feel like I got punched in the face. Weird. I don’t remember getting punched in the face. Did I punch myself? Did I punch myself so hard that it was erased from my memory?
No, I am sure that didn’t happen. I just wish whatever was going on would stop. It is annoying.
I’m not talking about that stye I had on my right eye a few weeks ago. That’s still there but it’s about 95% gone. Whatever this is, it’s on the other eye. This one is a lefty.
Maybe I should just nap for a couple of days. That’ll fix me right up.
Ready for some TMI action?
I just booked a colonoscopy. Getting old sucks sometimes, doesn’t it? Middle age can bite my shiny metal ass.
How’s that for Too Much Information? Heh heh.
Here’s a cat, pondering the universe…
This is going to be a gastric bypass surgery post. If you don’t want to read about how fat I was, then now is the time to bail out. I promise I won’t be mad. Hell, I’m tired of thinking about how fat I was.
Okay. Still here?
It’s been 2.5 years since I had the surgery. I’m still down something like 210-220 pounds over that time. I still think the whole experience has been nothing short of miraculous.
But…
Over the last couple of weeks I have been having moments of confusion. I walk past a glass door and see my reflection and I feel totally weirded out. That’s not me that I see reflected in the glass. I am a 450 pound behemoth, not this miniaturized freak I see in the glass.
I look down at the floor in front of me and I see my shoes looking back up at me. That’s not me. If it were me I would see my gut protruding out so far that it completely blocks my view of my feet. Shoes? What shoes?
I look at myself in the mirror and see this weird, alien face with loose skin hanging off his neck staring back at him. I don’t see me. I don’t see the fat face with the skin stretched smooth over the cheeks that are so puffed up I look like Dizzy Gillespie wailing over some Bb dominant 7 chord.
What the hell, Robert? It’s been 2.5 years. You have looked like this for a long time now. Surgery was 2.5 years ago, but you hit the 200 pound lost point over 1.5 years ago. Why aren’t you used to being this new you yet? What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you accept the new reality?
I don’t know. I had over 30 years of being a grossly overweight adult. I had just a few years of being 400+ pounds, but that seems to have been long enough to make it permanent in my tiny little brain. I think the real question here is, why now? It’s been a long time since I felt like the rug was being pulled out from under me when I saw my reflection. It’s been a long time since I held up the clothes that I am wearing now to those that I wore before the surgery. Why am I weirded out now when I wasn’t a month or two ago?
Is it a holidays thing? Does the upcoming Thanksgiving dinner feast and the knowledge that I won’t be able to participate like I used to somehow trigger some weird body image thing? Is that going to happen every year? Am I somehow, perversely nostalgic for the time when I was so heavy that I couldn’t go for a 100 yard walk without feeling like my heart and my lungs were going to literally explode in my chest? That better not be the case because that sort of thing was so soul crushing that part of me just wanted to die to get it over with. No way am I thinking back fondly to that. At least not consciously. But sub-consciously? Maybe? Damn, I hope not.
What is it about November 2024 that has me in such a weird body image frame of mind? I don’t get it. Maybe I should walk past glass doors and see myself reflected back more often so that I just get over it and get used to the new normal. The new normal is better in every single way. 99.999% of the time I feel that and I literally rejoice in it (seriously), but those other weird surprise moments… that 0.001% of the time… it’s like dude, what the hell is wrong with you?
Today is Wednesday and it is my third consecutive day in the office. The traffic was bad. I want to go home. It’s not even 9:00am yet and I already want to go home. I am going to have a super busy, super stressful work day today. I just don’t feel up to it. Ugh.
As I walked in this morning the guy who sits next to me said good morning. I said good morning in return, but the thought that went through my head was something like good morning apart from the usual soul crushing existential dread. Another day, another walk through the shadow of the valley of emotional wreckage. You know how it is. Of course I exaggerate a little, and I also… ya know… edited my thoughts… like you do.
That lead to another thought. A lyric from a Triumph song. “Another day, another dollar, another pretty face. Another chance to lose yourself in this endless race.” That’s from the song Hold On from the album Just a Game. It’s a good record.
I think I am feeling gloomy for a physical reason. Let me tell you all about it.
When I was a high school brat I had a period where I dealt with some pretty bad acne. Not as bad as some of my classmates, but for a little window of time there it was bad. Bad enough that we asked a doctor about it. They put me on some Retin A (or whatever it was called) and it helped a little. Mostly, just getting through puberty is what resolved the issue. Fast forward to yesterday and I felt like something was in my eye. Weird. My right eye kept getting watery and that would blur my vision just a tiny bit. I thought maybe it was the start of a little conjunctivitis. Yippee for me. This morning I discovered the truth. It’s not pink eye or anything like that. It’s a pimple… on my lower eye lid. No, let me rephrase… it’s a great big muther of a zit and it’s on my lower eye lid. What the hell?
A zit on my eye that is big enough to cause my eye to water a little and I can just about almost see it. Again I ask, what the hell?
So if you’re wondering why I am in a weird funky mood today, that is probably it. Chalk it up to teenage acne coming back for another round of fun in my 50’s and punching me right in the freakin’ eye. Stupid zit. Stupid, stupid zit.
I am less than two hours away from winning an ebay auction for a cheap, Soviet medium format TLR camera from the 80’s. I am the only bidder so far. Think I am going to win? Neither do I, but let’s see how it goes.
I’m exhausted. I have a massive headache. I have body aches all over. This is the post-covid booster shot blues. I was planning no working in the office tomorrow but now I think I am going to push that off until Tuesday. Just on the off chance that I’m not quite over this by tomorrow morning. Here’s hoping a good nights sleep will fix me right up.
Given that today is one day after having a covid vaccine booster shot and I am feeling sick and achy and awful all over, it should have been obvious that today would be the single busiest day at the grocery store that the human race has ever seen. I’m pretty sure I got the last open parking space in the entire strip mall lot. What a mess. My head is pounding now and my whole body hurts and waaaaaaah, waaaaaaah, waaaaaaah, I feel like such a great big middle aged baby.
At least the cats are being adorable.
I mentioned in a post last night that I got a Covid-19 booster shot. They stabbed me with that around 4:30pm, along with a flu shot at the same time. Double barrel vaccination action for this redhead.
As many of us who are not anti-vax morons know, the day after a Covid shot can kinda suck. I am definitely feeling it today. I got eight hours of sleep, thanks in part to the end of daylight savings time, and I should be nice and rested but I am not. I’m exhausted and my nose is running and my eyes are sore and just want to close and I generally feel a little sick.
It’s not that bad overall, but it is just bad enough to turn me into the stereotypical middle aged man who at the slightest hint of cold symptoms turns into a moaning, brooding, miserable, two year old who just wants to whine all day and bitch and moan and sleep and complain.
Yeah, that’s me right now.
Happy Sunday!