annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary
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Feb 25th
OK, I have to start with an admission. After I posted last night I went upstairs and carried on looking for the missing sleeping pills (see yesterday's post), until I finally looked at the box and saw that the number 28 (for the number of pills) had been crossed out and replaced with a handwritten 14, so there never were any more fucking pills and I spent all of yesterday fucking evening driving myself fucking mental all for fucking nothing. Jesus H Christ. End of swearing, at least for a bit.
Today was hectic - art group, too full, no room for me, boo. She's only meant to take eight but she let two of us squeeze in at the sides. I did more seascapes and chilled out at last, being with my pals, my fellow anxiety-warriors, splish-splashing about with paint. Sigh... happy sigh.
I dithered about whether or not to skip the gym class as I was already knackered but went in the end and it was really fucking hard.
At least it took my mind off the dermatologist appointment I had after. There's been a patch of skin on my arm behaving weirdly for several years. I show it to the doctor every now and then and they say it's OK, but it's still there, being weird. When I had my annual mental health review I mentioned thinking every little thing I have, like this patch of skin, is some kind of obscure fatal disease, as so many of my friends and family have died and she got me an appointment to have it properly checked out by someone who specialises in skin. Today. And the fucker shaved it off - sliced a layer off my arm and then cauterised (aka burnt the shit out of) it, and another patch of something else he didn't like the look of on my leg. Man. It didn't physically hurt, once the nurse had injected the local anaesthetic with a giant nasty needle, but it scared the hell out of me, especially being so sudden. He said the names of both of them, not the same, and said they both very occasionally do have pre-cancerous cells, of a kind that are easily treatable with some cream and light malarkey, so they've gone off to be analysed.
I can't help thinking of Barb, dear wittykitty, who might still be with us if the US had decent medical care. None of this cost me a penny, and it won't, no matter how serious it gets.
They did all their stuff, gave me some leaflets and I fled, off into the post-rain delicious late afternoon light:
the photo doesn't do it justice - the more distant hill was almost luminous in the low sunlight against the grey storm clouds.
I took Shirley out, as we haven't had a walk since last week, then read the leaflets when I came home which said that after having chunks of your skin shaved off and burnt you should rest and not exert yourself by doing things like going shopping or walking the dog - it specifically said do not walk your dog. But I did and so far the sky has not fallen on my head.
But I have managed to get this written by only just after 11 pm and now it's an early night.
I am grateful for: the NHS; art group; gym; Shirley; you guys
Night night xxx
11:08 p.m. - 25.02.20
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