Because It's Better To Be Irrational With Me Than Rational With Someone Else

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Problems All Around and Not Enough Solutions

I am on top of half-naked Stan. I run my fingers through skinny but extremely athletic frame. I am afraid to touch him and cause him pain, as his recent free soloing trip left him with a lot of bruises. He pulls me in to kiss me; and by accident I press my fingers against the most prominent bruise. The ever faint sign of pain appeared only to be replaced by him asking me to continue. Hurting him? He continued making out with….

Then the phone rung. My neurologist's nurse called me back. I was confused and irritated, as I was still half-asleep and still with a pounding headache; and mostly because the whole morning that I've been calling his office, I have made it clear that the only person I want to talk to is my neurologist.

I explained my problem and immediately realizing that my problem can cause them a lot of problems, she started accusing me of withholding information.

Press again. A faint smile and a hint of pain. My head throbbed.

I explained as slowly and as calmly as I possibly could, that I am not calling to accuse anybody of anything as this problem is everybody's and nobody's fault; I am not calling to sue, I am just trying to get in touch with my neurologist. She then goes through the procedure -possibly read straight from a medical book- how to deal with my problem.

Press harder. Smile. Pleasure. The pain in my head intensified. I massage my temples.

I explain, with patience slowly escaping me, that I am aware of how to treat this and thus I took the actions I took, and all I want to do is talk to my neurologist to make him aware of this and ask for instructions of what to do next. Since when do I have to climb over bodies, in order to get to him?! She tells him she will make him aware of this, and he shall call me back at his convenience.

Punch me! Trickle of sweat. My head is pounding. I hold on tight to my bed.
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My neurologist is stumped. He asks me if I am aware that my problem eliminates 90% of medications in existence, including almost all anticonvulsive ones. I nod, but he can't see it over the phone. Other than that, he seems to know more about my problem than the doctors in the ER who treated me for it. He seems to be genuinely concerned but also confused. He said he will consult others on the board and see what shall happen. He tells me he misses me.
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I just found out that I have a very rare life-threatening allergy. I am allergic to almost every medication out there; a true problem if my life revolves around taking pills every single day for the rest of my life. Six years ago, I have been told that although I had this reaction to one medication, it did not mean that any medication that potentially causes this reaction will cause it on me every time. So not true. FFW, Saturday, I noticed a fast spreading rash that right in front of my eyes started blistering. I knew immediately what it was. I immediately realized I was screwed, and did not like it.
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Stan calls me. "If you're dead, I am taking your computers. If you're alive, then there's no excuses why you're not here with me."
"If you touch my computers, I will punch the hell out of you."
"Watch out. I might like it. Choose my punishments wisely."

We are just friends. His dog likes me and he told me so many times. I think guys like that… when their dogs like the girl. I am not the girl though. We are just friends.

1:10 a.m. - July 01, 2009

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