The mind of a twisted daydreamer

It's done and over with. Ultrasound tech Lavinia was there, she was my tech at the first one, so that eased me a lot. The biopsy doctor was different and I didn't like him nearly as much, though he did give me a second shot of lidocaine when I said I could feel the second biopsy needle sample. My thyroid produces rocks, so it was more of an excavation than a biopsy. Three samples down and I'm starting to feel the left side of my neck again.

I was told to rest quietly today and go back to normal life tomorrow. Since the lidocaine is wearing off, I'm thinking that is sound advice. I have a rendezvous with an ice pack.

I am way, way, way off.

I'm moody again. I pick fights without meaning to. I cry at the drop of a hat. My tolerance level is at an all time low. I hate having chemical imbalances/hormone problems.

Yes, you can worry. I'm worried. I feel like a nutcase - and I know part of it's to do with my thyroid and the damn chemical deficiencies in my own god forsaken head.

When this happens, the past comes and hits me up beside the head. I'm still figuring out what emotional scars I have and what they do to me. Sometimes I feel like I'm completely and utterly fucked.

So, without the help of modern medicine, I would probably be committed and doped up to epic proportions. Even doctor's are stupid and don't look for the right things - it's always the goddamned easy way out. So if you know a witch doctor - send me their way. If you know some aliens, perhaps they can probe me and tell me more. If you care, just send your love, because I'm feeling really, really insecure and sensitive right now.

I'll make it. I'll fix things, but right now rock bottom seems damned close and I've got my spork to try to dig further.