But I don’t care, even if I was a fool.

I’ve got something with muscles or nerves or I-don’t-know-what fucked up enough that my left arm has been mostly numb all day, with some tingling in my fingers and a spot on my thumb that’s been hurting like hell on and off. My neck and right shoulder have been hurting some too, and I know from experience that someone with 15 minutes or less who’s even barely skilled with bodywork of any sort could remedy the issue.

In the same way as many other things about my life, though, I intentionally ignore my recognition of “this is a serious problem!” because I have no directly accessible remedy. This place has fleas and bedbugs and ants and probably still roaches, but fixing that means coordinating with roommates and landlord, taking significant steps to prepare just my room and depending on both roommates to take equivalent steps, pushing the landlord to address the problem, to even acknowledge the problem instead of dismissing it offhand or making yet another excuse… so instead I know that I’ll be bitten by insects, that any food I leave unsealed will be unusable, and I check my clothes and other things carefully before leaving the house and add diatomaceous earth to the bottom of containers, I only open what I can eat in the moment, and I expect much of what food I have or am given to go to waste.

I have significant concerns and questions to address with a health care professional, things that should have been looked at — and treated — long ago.  Living with things isn’t fun or easy, but trying to make sure I call a doctor during their limited “business hours” is difficult when those hours are during the small part of the day that I’m either sleeping or trying to get a few things done at home… or, more often, simply avoiding this place and going out to kill time and keep my sanity.  It’s after 3 in the morning as I write this, and I have plans for tomorrow that will take most of my day. I’m hoping to still get a few hours of sleep between now and when I have to be up and out the door — if I could call and schedule an appointment between 11pm and 5am, I’d have an appointment. “That’s when everyone is supposed to be asleep,” I’m told, so naturally there’s nobody answering phones at the doctor’s office!  So I just ignore major medical concerns unless or until they keep me from functioning at all.

Did I say something about hoping to get some sleep? Huh, guess I did. That was pretty stupid, really, because I know full well that there will be enough noise here until almost 7am to keep that from happening. As I type, my roommate is hacking up her lungs — I’m not sure whether that’s because she’s awake and smoking pot or awake and still dealing with being really sick (which I only discovered accidentally, that she’s been sick for quite a while) because the sound is the same. If the schedule goes like usual, by 4 or 4:30 there’ll be lots of sex, by quarter to 5 the guys upstairs will be up and stomping around and hollering like apes, by 6:30 if not before the teenage boys next door will be running up and down the stairs and screaming at each other, and traffic outside will pick up considerably.  I need to open my window and get some air and chill in this room, which I hate doing because it takes away even the small amount of sound isolation to the street.

Maybe I’ll get lucky and fall asleep anyway. Sometimes I just drive myself to stay awake far beyond “tired” and way past “exhausted” to “I’m going to fall down now, hopefully it’s on my bed.” I have a pretty damn long endurance, though, one I’ve developed as a coping skill, so I frequently have to do things that are against my immediate best interests in order to actually achieve those interests mid-term. It’s an ugly dance, one I’d rather leave behind.

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