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Nov. 16th, 2012 10:49 amRandomly occurring stomach troubles are continuing, and I threw up on the sidewalk this morning as I was walking to the station. Got a LOOK from a gentleman who was passing, and felt like calling out to him, “I’m not drunk at 7 in the morning. I’m just ill.” Didn’t, of course. Seeing the doctor after work today and will mention it again. His last suggestion was antacids, which is all very well in theory, but is not very helpful on the sidewalk.
In my last post, there was a less than constructive comment regarding the death of Dr. Savita Halappanavar. I should’ve pushed back harder against it in my reply. My thanks to the commenters who did push back. I doubt the original commenter intended to victim-blame. I suspect there’s often a subconscious process going on of, “If I were ever in this situation, I would do X differently, and therefore I wouldn’t die.” I find myself thinking stuff like that pretty often. It’s terrifying to have to admit to oneself that sometimes horrible things (or horrible laws, or horrible doctors) can happen to random people, and there’s no getting out of them.
The definition of First World Problems: the cleaning ladies came yesterday and now I can’t find my bottle of Ativan. They probably just tidied it up somewhere, but heaven knows where it is. There’s a bag of trash that they left in the kitchen, so I may have to go through that if it doesn’t turn up elsewhere in the apartment. Although the bottle should be in the kitchen, because that’s where I left it. You know when you could really use a tranquilizer? When you just realized you can’t FIND the tranquilizers.
I am slightly paranoid that a member of the team may have pocketed it, which is probably silly, of course. I had a bottle of sleeping pills go missing under similar circs about a year ago, and they never did turn up. And I am having more First World Problems in that when they last came, two weeks ago, they left the sliding door to the patio wide open after they put the trash out on the patio. Hence me asking them to leave the trash in the apartment from now on, because I am now paranoid not only that the cleaning ladies are taking my pills, but that they will leave the doors unlocked.
I realize there’s an argument to be made that I should avoid these problems by cleaning up my own mess. And incidentally I should probably stop stereotyping cleaning ladies as people who would steal my meds. It just seems a bit suspicious that of all the many meds I have around, the only ones that go missing are the sleeping pills and tranquilizers. If I find the bottle tonight, I’m going to feel SO guilty for my paranoia.
In my last post, there was a less than constructive comment regarding the death of Dr. Savita Halappanavar. I should’ve pushed back harder against it in my reply. My thanks to the commenters who did push back. I doubt the original commenter intended to victim-blame. I suspect there’s often a subconscious process going on of, “If I were ever in this situation, I would do X differently, and therefore I wouldn’t die.” I find myself thinking stuff like that pretty often. It’s terrifying to have to admit to oneself that sometimes horrible things (or horrible laws, or horrible doctors) can happen to random people, and there’s no getting out of them.
The definition of First World Problems: the cleaning ladies came yesterday and now I can’t find my bottle of Ativan. They probably just tidied it up somewhere, but heaven knows where it is. There’s a bag of trash that they left in the kitchen, so I may have to go through that if it doesn’t turn up elsewhere in the apartment. Although the bottle should be in the kitchen, because that’s where I left it. You know when you could really use a tranquilizer? When you just realized you can’t FIND the tranquilizers.
I am slightly paranoid that a member of the team may have pocketed it, which is probably silly, of course. I had a bottle of sleeping pills go missing under similar circs about a year ago, and they never did turn up. And I am having more First World Problems in that when they last came, two weeks ago, they left the sliding door to the patio wide open after they put the trash out on the patio. Hence me asking them to leave the trash in the apartment from now on, because I am now paranoid not only that the cleaning ladies are taking my pills, but that they will leave the doors unlocked.
I realize there’s an argument to be made that I should avoid these problems by cleaning up my own mess. And incidentally I should probably stop stereotyping cleaning ladies as people who would steal my meds. It just seems a bit suspicious that of all the many meds I have around, the only ones that go missing are the sleeping pills and tranquilizers. If I find the bottle tonight, I’m going to feel SO guilty for my paranoia.
