I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Perhaps i should have titled this: warning: depressing blog to follow.

Since no one in the 2o2p world has known me that long, i'll give you a quick version of my background story. I died when i was 25, and i've been sick ever since. Okay, i'll elaborate a bit. I was misdiagnosed for a year and a half, because my doctor at the time had his head up his ass. I have Scleroderma *google if you want, i'm too lazy to type a definition for you*.  There is no cure, and my current doctor's drug of choice for me is a chemotherapy drug called Methotrexate. This is the old, sad story you've probably heard a million times of the treatment being as bad as the disease itself. I'm tired. I'm sick. And i'm OVER IT.

I can't work even a part time job anymore. It's very hard to find a place that will let you call in daily to tell them if or when you'll be working today. It's also hard to find a job in which you can be there for a few hours, then suddenly leave because you feel dizzy, naseous, too tired to move.

I can't play campaign in any FPS games anymore. I know, right? That's the REAL tragedy! Around the time Halo 3 came out, they increased my metho dosage. And suddenly, i can no longer play campaign without spending the next five hours vomitting uncontrollably. I can play third person or side scrollers all day. Multiplayer is no problem. But FPS campaign is out of the question. Hopefully some people on my friends list will read this and not get annoyed when i ignore invites to play Reach co-op.

I can't gain weight. Please. No hate mail. I know i know i know. People always tell me they wish they had my problem. They would gladly give me a few pounds of theirs, etc etc etc. But trust me, it sucks to be sickly skinny. People watch me in restaurants, as if waiting for me to run to the bathroom and regurgitate what i've just eaten. People watch what i eat, which really sucks because my favorite foods are nonfattening vegetarian dishes. People try to pressure me to eat gross things drowning in cheese. Everyone has an idea on what i should eat or how i can gain weight. People don't seem to realize I CAN'T. My metabolism is screwed up. If i eat something and walk across the room afterwards, i've burned off half the calories of what i just ate. I can't eat things i don't like, because the metho makes me so sick half the time, it's a struggle to eat things i LIKE. I can't gorge myself, because part of this disease is your esophagus is sort of closing off, and you get full really quickly. So people saying 'eat a box of donuts' are of no help. i'm REALLY sick of people thinking i'm anorexic or bulemic or any other -ic.

I'm also sick of sympathy. I understand it...it's one of those things you find out about a person and all you can say is 'gee sorry.' That's not the kind of sympathy i mean. I mean the kind where people treat me like a child or an invalid. The way my mom tries to grab anything i'm holding (like a small bag of groceries) as if my poor, weak, sickly little arm can't handle the weight. Or when someone i've known for a bit starts getting all weird when they find out i'm sick. I'm the same chick i was yesterday, before you found out my 'deal.' If you teased me yesterday, tease me today!

I'm sick of doctors, nurses, and labs. But i'll stop there because i could type a novel about that stuff.

I don't even know why i'm posting this blog. I think i'm just having a bad week. I'm just sick and tired. I'm jealous of every healthy person out there. You have no idea how lucky you are. I should stop bitching though, and count my blessings instead. I have an amazing husband who completely understands when, after he's worked hard all day, he sometimes has to take care of dinner because i'm just too tired, even though i haven't done anything all day. He takes over any household duties i can't do without complaining at all. He doesn't mind that, in the summer, i can't go anywhere alone because i might pass out in the parking lot. My cats seem to know when i need 'kitty magic', and literally hold me down when i'm too sick to be up and moving. My family, for the most part, is understanding. My step mother is still, after all these years, in denial. She doesn't get it at all, and seems to think i was cured years ago. Everyone else is awesome. Especially my three younger brothers. They keep an eye on me when we're at concerts or out running around. They carry stuff for me without making me feel all weak and sickly.  They tease me and pick on me like they do each other, so that i feel normal.

Hmm...i started this blog all depressed and bitchy. But the more i've typed, the more i've realized i may be sick and tired, but i'm also lucky.