I haven't posted in a while. I just didn't find the time, I didn't find the time to do anything in fact, from excercising to showering to cleaning my place, I am ashamed to say. Everyday tasks seemed to take ages, and I would be running in and out of my apartment, constantly forgetting things. On top of that, my moods were swinging like a pendulum. I felt lost, and moved beween manic anger to tearful contemplation. I would often find myself in lost little dirl mode, walking fast somewhere I was late to with tears streaming uncontrollably down my cheeks. I wasn't crying, but I wasn't allergic either, I don't know what the fuck it was. I reached a point where I couldn't leave the house or get anything done, I would forget my sentenced midway like a chronic stoner, something which P. found cute and annoying at the same time.
But actually I do know. T. the social worker, who saw me last week, commented that she has seen before, and sometimes she would ask the doctors to get some patients off the Stokrin, because she sees us every month or so and knows what's down with us, and they see us every 6 months (3 for the nurse practitioner) and are more interested in communicating their findings and wieghing and measuring than in the kind of discussion that yields this perspective. It got so bad in the beginning of the week that I calle dthe nurse on Monday, and with some difficulty articulating myself (because I could, I am, able to do everything, it's just so bloody taxing) said that I am just too lost lately. He didn't waste words and just said that my Stokrin levels were probabaly too high, because the other nurse had told me to take my meds with food! He said I should stop taking them with food and things will clear up hopefully. I haven't been to work in a couple of days, but worked from home, and it's only been 2 nights since I talked to him, but I do feel an improvement (psychosomatic?). I am not back to being sharp but I am more "together" somehow, just a little bit. And yesterday was Sinterklaas [the warmest ever, crazy, superfast global warming] and there were a bunch of people at my place and it was een heel leuk avond I felt, although I was a bit pissed with myself for calling after them down the stairwell when they left 6 hours later "thank you for coming". But hey, no one's perfect, especially with this amount of chemicals (and wine) running in my blood.
this thing with the Stokrin and how quickly and quietly I was sinking reminded me of how, for a few years before my diagnosis strange little bumps appeared on my skin, especially on my arms and legs. Nothing noticable to the uncritical eye, but I used to jokingly complain about turning slowly into a toad, and I even saw a reknowned skin specialist who tried to burn some of them with peroxide (which made the back of my hand, which he practiced on, look like tiger skin for a while) and commented on my weak immune system, but no one, NO ONE said "do an HIV test", when my counts were dropping bellow the 100, and now that I am on meds, these little bumps are slipping back into my dermis.
And why is this post called "lucky"? Because I fucking am, I am sitting in my beautiful apartment after a great dinner and evening and it's morning now and me and P. were in my bed last night saying loving things to each other, not even having sex (which has been the bomb lately) because we were too tired, and in a couple weeks I am going to meet his family which I am dead nervous of and there will be ups and downs and hills and valleys no doubts. But things are (even in the Stokrin haze and with all the delays) shaping up, also with my work, and I love my family, and I am just so .... happy, but it is fragile this happiness, like a crust covering some dark depths that I am treading on fearfully, taking tiny steps, bended over in fear, and will I dare to straighten my back?