My oxygen levels in my blood are way down and I can feel it when I walk upstairs. According to my doctor, my level is four-fifths of what it should be!
Other than that, the week has been the same. No new symptoms -- just the same old, same old -- with a hair-trigger temper, as a truck driver found out yesterday.
One of my neighbours was moving and the transport truck was blocking the driveway to our parking lot. My first sentence to him was polite, but it quickly went down hill from there, on account of the fact that he wasn't cooperating. There is a by-law in our town where you cannot park within six feet of a driveway entrance. Well, he was blocking it. Push came to shove and I called the cops. He ended up almost getting a fine and he had to drop the trailer and move the cab. I won and was satisfied. I had to laugh every time I went in and out on account of him scowling at me.
Didn't lose my temper again yesterday.
Injection night again Monday and I still cannot figure out when to give it to myself. I'm trying to judge it so I am sick when my son is at school, but I can't. I'm only sick with flu-like symptoms on Tuesday.
Sleeping well every night because I am really tired, but that's OK. I certainly don't mind having a good night's sleep.
My sister still cannot figure out what the medications are doing to me. She doesn't believe they're affecting me and, besides, she thinks I "deserve it." Maybe she's right, given that I was stupid enough to share needles 25 to 35 years ago. However, I don't need to be told that -- I'm the one living with this and going through these 24 weeks of treatments.
I just don't want to end up like Canadian ice hockey player and legendary fighter Robbie Probert -- change your life drastically and still end up paying for the mistakes of youth.
'til next time.