Journal entry for March 8, 2018

I guess I'm indulging, then. I'm taking some time out of my Friday, in between feeding Sharon breakfast while watching "The Price is Right" (not my favorite show, but she really hates to miss it) and then punishing myself afterward for my shitty attitude by working on the tax spread sheet. We account for all of our expenses so we can deduct just about everything (not legally, of course). Now there's a few minutes before Gina gets here to help with Sharon's bathing.

Let's recap the week so far. For Monday I have a win--I went for a bike ride and explored new territory. The top of a hill in the Daughtery Wildlife area. I wore my goggles for a bit but didn't need them, mostly. My eye didn't bother me as much.

I have this theory that I can cure myself of just about anything. If I get enough cardio and activity in, consistently, to distract myself and I circulate my blood enough, I can remove my toxic invaders. I'm convinced that my eye problem stems from exposure to toxic mold or household allergens. Why else would I feel better after extended times away from home? FUCK this whole eye shit.

I finished taking Sharon's amoxicillan, which she declined to take although the nurse really thought she had pneumonia a couple of weeks ago. It has since relented, but maybe it's just under the radar. Now she's just her usual: weak, dehydrated, unable to speak clearly and weeping at everything.

Anyway, let's stay with the timeline. Tuesday Gina was not well, so she didn't make it for the Tuesday shaving. I cooked oil instead and we watched a movie, "Flash Gordon," which put Sharon to sleep. I liked it, but only because it was incredibly corny and easy to watch without paying too much attention.

My eye was worse that day and it felt like a sinus swelling kind of thing. It doesn't look super bad, but I feel it. And then Wednesday was Gina's visit and I picked up Sharon's meds at the Medicine Shoppe. Not a lot of excitement, but trying to stay positive. Eye not better and not worse. Hope for the antibiotics making a difference is kind of fading at this point.

Thursday--Sharon's dad came to visit. We washed her hair and she pooped. And by that I mean that I manually extracted 2 weeks worth of fecal matter from her rectum with a gloved hand. She is used to this and it doesn't make her cry anymore. It seems to be interminable, because there is always more.

That brings us to Friday, today. I finished the ABX and am getting bummed about the lack of results. At least it didn't mess up my gut too bad. I took probiotics and quit eating dairy for the time. Now I'm drinking a Borax and baking soda recipe for fighting fungal infections. I have little faith in this, but am on the ropes, so I guess I'm just flailing.

I think too much about myself and my problems. Even Sharon and all her problems are still viewed through my own self-centered lens.

So this is my indulgence. I get to sit here and bitch about stuff while sitting on the front porch waiting for Gina. And sucking on an orange flavored chewable vitamin C. And listening to the sound of Troy working on my neighbor's fence. He is still not 100% done with our fence. Just another thing to bitch about.

I don't care. I'm losing interest in stuff. I want to feel good but I'm going to have to get used to there being several problems with my human body at any given time.

I think about death constantly. Where does my life fit into the whole cosmic scheme of things? Am I just a little twinkle of light in between the darkness before and the darkness after? Will that be that when I finally fall apart beyond repair?

I do suspect that Sharon will go first, but I don't know what to do or think or feel other than be sad and be an aimless, ambling survivor. Until I become unhinged and also leave. Bill, then Gracie. Grandma, then Grandpa. Then Uncle Steve. Oh, and my high school girlfriend, Ilene. And recently Sharon's mom. I can't hold out forever. And why should I? Things are so much less enjoyable now.

Whatever happened to me? I was fine a few years back. I loved to party and get drunk and high. I kept myself entertained with stuff to look forward to. After work. Weekends. I was never so empty of meaning to my life as I am now. I don't know because I didn't write down my thoughts in a journal back then. I suspect it is because they were just happy visitors that didn't bother me all that much.

I guess I'm done indulging for now.