(no subject)
I'm feeling down about medication. Like, rationally I understand that the double handful of pills I take daily help me through life. Intuitively I cannot help but feel that I'm doing something very, very wrong, and I should stop.
But, as my beloved Dr. Dawkins says, science is not intuitive. Science is not "common sense". Science is, in fact, pretty much completely counterintuitive, which is why it is so important to follow processes and be very stringent about data.
Although anything can become intuitive if you learn enough about it and practice it long enough. But "feeling good about taking pills" isn't exactly something I can practice, or if I can, I'm not sure how.
I'm still not taking that ACE inhibitor, either. And even though I have landed a shrink appointment for Monday and am looking forward to getting back on that horse, I also feel like I have had quite enough of doctors and their sticky fingers rooting through my being.
Today Dave made a massive effort to go through ten years' backlog of paper. Usually I am the one to do this, but I was asleep, and he did it all on his own. He came up with bill after bill from my doctors and hospital trips. He found sheaves of old prescription receipts, and notes from doctors excusing me from school/work.
Depressing. I used to be so healthy, but I guess that's what happens when you suffer extreme trauma for most of the first half of your life. Eventually it catches up to you. And by "you" I mean "me". And it didn't take long. And where the hell do I go from here?
But, as my beloved Dr. Dawkins says, science is not intuitive. Science is not "common sense". Science is, in fact, pretty much completely counterintuitive, which is why it is so important to follow processes and be very stringent about data.
Although anything can become intuitive if you learn enough about it and practice it long enough. But "feeling good about taking pills" isn't exactly something I can practice, or if I can, I'm not sure how.
I'm still not taking that ACE inhibitor, either. And even though I have landed a shrink appointment for Monday and am looking forward to getting back on that horse, I also feel like I have had quite enough of doctors and their sticky fingers rooting through my being.
Today Dave made a massive effort to go through ten years' backlog of paper. Usually I am the one to do this, but I was asleep, and he did it all on his own. He came up with bill after bill from my doctors and hospital trips. He found sheaves of old prescription receipts, and notes from doctors excusing me from school/work.
Depressing. I used to be so healthy, but I guess that's what happens when you suffer extreme trauma for most of the first half of your life. Eventually it catches up to you. And by "you" I mean "me". And it didn't take long. And where the hell do I go from here?