“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard

Saturday, September 29, 2007


FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So they sent me home, cause everything was cool, and I'm not home two whole days when I start to see another of these fucking blisters that's gonna pop.

This means I'm probably going to have to go back to the hospital tomorrow.

This means I'm goddamn pissed.

Know what bugs me the most? The spot that developed the blister is a spot I complained about to the doctors THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME I WAS FUCKING IN THERE!!!


Fuck 'em. I'm not going. I have the meds here. Not much more they can do there. Just means I'll have an extra wound to pack is all. I'm not going back the fuck up there, three hour fucking drive, for something I fucking TOLD THEM ABOUT BEFORE I FUCKING LEFT!!!

Why ask me if anything is bothering me if you're going to ignore my fucking answer?

And the CAT scan? The one that I had to drink radioactive shit for? Yeah, it said there was nothing wrong. I guess it meant everything but THIS.

Awright, it is a teensy bit my fault. They said "Looks like we may be able to send you home today." And I said "Sweet!" Cause I had a copy of Halo 3 waiting for me at home. I should have fucking questioned it and stayed another day or two.

There is the possibility that the medication will kill enough of the infection overnight that the blister doesn't rupture.

There's also the possibility that my shit will turn purple and smell like rainbow sherbert.

Guess we'll see tomorrow.



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