panic officially sets in

George was supposed to be here today.

He seemed to have showed up ever so briefly on Saturday. I spent the morning with vertigo and a hellish hypoglycemic attack. I took a 600mg Ibuprofen that day for cramps and back pain, and yet I still made it out to a friend’s tea party. During the day, george disappeared.

Yesterday and today I’ve had low back pain and cramping. Today I had another hypoglycemic attack just before lunch, despite having eaten a protein bar an hour earlier.

And so when, after all this, he didn’t show up on time today, I began to panic, because I don’t want to have to move my surgery back again. The first time, it was the doctor’s fault. This time, it’s both of our faults, because when she named the reschedule date, I should have told her to tack on an extra five days in the event of george lateness. And he’s been on time just fine until now, the little bastard.

Technically I’m not supposed to take any pain meds for two weeks before surgery. This puts me at about a week. I called the doctor from work and left a message. She called my home five times but never gave me a detailed message like I’d given her receptionist. The damned receptionist probably didn’t give the doctor my detailed message.
That office leaves NO way to leave a message after hours, and there’s no email address on their website. They’re open banker’s hours so to speak, and I’m at work during that time. I don’t have a cell phone so I guess that’s MY fault. Screw the technology whores, I can’t afford a goddamned cell phone.


My lower back is so tense that it feels like the muscles are trying to separate my pelvis and lower spine. I’ve taken a muscle relaxer and I’m waiting for it to kick in.

I have the heater fan on but I’m wearing TWO sweaters, my jeans, socks and shoes and I’m shivering and my hands are still like ice.

Oh, and I almost forgot….this is the week the job I’m temping for decided they’d like to interview me on Thursday for a permanent position. So now there’s even more stress: stress of the interview itself and stress that I’ll have to miss it because george is late. When george is late, it pushes up the pain calendar so to speak. I was supposed to have painful death Monday through Wednesday. Now it’ll be more like Tuesday through Thursday, or Wednesday through Friday.

The only break I see in all of this anxiety is that on Friday, I’m supposed to go to Tahoe for the weekend to participate in an ex-pat party for my friend who’s moving to Canada.
I will sleep in my dome tent full of fluffy padded goodness in his house! It’s going to be a fun party. This group ranges from early twenties to late thirties and none of us act a day over seventeen when we’re together.

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