I hate to write one handed but dialysis demands it.
I’ve got problems today that are complex. Type one diabetes, background. Addiction to crystal meth, gratefully, background. HIV which contributes to catching shingles (apparently it IS possible ) from my grandmother, who I have been caring for bathing and whatnot this last two weeks. Shingles in the mouth and airway because that’s my luck. Valtrex 3 grams per day to fight the shingles to keep HIV undetectable to ensure readiness for kidney transplant which is is the works. Get it? Do you start to understand why I avoid talking about my health? It’s too much. And people feel sorry for me. And I despise being felt sorry for. And I don’t think life sucks. My life just turns out to be pretty unusual. Complex.
So the valtrex makes me psycotic. I see the world moving, the sun is insanely bright, I feel paranoia and pressure drawing from my head like ropes on a ship that is tied to a dock. The valtrex treats the shingles in my airway.
The shingles is causing narrowing in my airway which, combined with the trach scarring is making it hard to breathe, giving me some strider. (The tracheostomy a story for another day )
So I take the valtrex induced psycosis, because the prospect of a second intubation is unacceptable. The first lead to a tracheostomy and a feeding tube.
I would rather hide under a rock and take the pills.
My mom is here to help me through. I hate that I need to be helped through.