Phew, There You Are, Ridiculousness. I Was Beginning to Think You Had Forgotten About Me.

Since I’m messing up my arm all over the place in wait of a new splint, I may as well add another blog post, because once my arm is in that splint I have to go back to point one and not be allowed to type for five weeks. I’m working on a novel here, people. This is not helpful.

For those of you who didn’t join me from my other blog, you don’t know that now would normally be the time when I’d add all kinds of festive Easter posts. Not this year, apparently. So hang in there with me. I haven’t forgotten about this bunny-bunny-hop-hop holiday. I may have, however, checked my maturity at the push of the power button on my laptop.

Today I ventured out of the house for a doctor’s appointment. I learned two things while out.

For starters, I went out looking for a splint to immobilize my arm like the one that I have that keeps falling apart does. Since the doctor I went to today was not, in fact, my orthopedic doctor, she didn’t have one. No problem, there was a medical store on the way home. They carried somewhere close to thirty different kinds of braces. I was just going to buy my own and suck it up, as opposed to going around in circles for another week with the doctor and the splint people about how I need the splint people to get me a new brace and they don’t have any. It’s just utterly exhausting and ridiculous.

In all of these nearly thirty kinds of splints the store carried, wouldn’t you know that they had nothing remotely similar to the one I have? You see, the one I need has to be able to come at least halfway down my forearm, immobilize my wrist, AND my thumb. They tend to either do one, the other, maybe two, but never all three. I feel like this would be the part in an episode of Psych where Shawn comes up with some witty quip and whips me up a splint out of macaroni and muffins. Unfortunately, Psych is a television show and I’m not a cast member.

Now I have to go back and forth again with the doctor’s office, which I’m sure is going to land me in the same position of going in circles. The man at the medical store used to be an EMT. He looked at my arm and told me with the injury I had, I needed to have a splint made. When none of the splints fit my freakishly small wrists, but still adult hands, I kind of got that. And my doctor’s office makes splints in office. So really, I’m not sure where the issue is here. Nor do I know how to solve this problem without going to a whole other doctor, which is just a gigantic pain in the rear. My butt hurts just thinking about it.

The second part of my quasi exciting day is probably the more important part. My doctor seems to think, and this is seconded by another doctor, that the auto-immune issues I’m having are being triggered by the completely erratic and schizophrenic Pennsylvania weather. The weather here is completely crazy, and they feel if I could get somewhere with almost no humidity and stable weather, that they would be able to control my symptoms and give me a much better quality of life. Every single time the weather changes, my body freaks out. In Pennsylvania, we can literally go from seventy degree weather one day, to thirty five degree weather the next. You just never know. This includes in the dead of winter. We’ll just randomly have weather spikes.

My doctors have suggested Arizona or Nevada, because they feel those would be the best places for my health to improve. I was planning on moving to Nevada prior to getting sick, so it’s not like I’m devastated by this revelation. It’s just that I literally have no way of moving. I have no money. They haven’t allowed me to work in over four years. They’re basically telling me moving is necessary to my health, but if I have no money to move, I don’t know how I’m supposed to do so. Much like with my splint, I feel like I’m stuck in a never-ending circle of ridiculousness. As long as I stay here, they’re probably not going to be able to control my symptoms, but if I move, I have a chance at a life, instead of sitting at home, unable to function. If anyone has any thoughts on this, please enlighten me. I just want my life back.

In the meantime, I guess I’ll just sit here and yell things like, “you’ve done gone and got stuck in that hole now,” to the television and be thankful that I only talk like that to the television.

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