  Poked, prodded, made to bend and hold my position under the eye of the X-ray machine I spent two long, irritating hours at a doctors office this morning, missing my first class and all but fifteen minutes of the second. Stupid supplementary appointment to appease the defense lawyers in my lawsuit  they always want a second opinion. I was the perfect [im]patient, just sitting there reading while sighing heavily as the time ticked by. 8 more X-rays. Yep, count em. I did.
All of them since my injury, I counted over twenty five of the suckers. All without a lead apron. All showing relatively the same thing; either pre or post-implants. Nothings changed, and yet each doctor wants his own sets of pictures. I have to say I was filled with a little anxious excitement about coming to school today. I bought a book at the Getty bookstore for my professor, Heather.
I made it to her class right at the end, in time to turn in my homework and hand it to her. My hands were shaking, and I could tell I would have a hard time speaking with much relaxed ease. But I did it, waited until everyone had left from our class, and I handed her the bag with the book in it. Turns out shed bought one already. I let her know first and foremost that it was only four bucks, so I couldnt resist getting one for her as well as myself. She spent forty!
She decided to donate it to the library even though I thought it would still be cool for her to save it and give it to someone whod appreciate it. A moment of ass-kissing, talking about the exhibit. At least, I didnt want it to seem like ass-kissing. Im too afraid of her to offer that much up on the first chance I have to talk to her. My voice was fast and deep, sounding a little rough from a cold or something. Im not comfortable with those first couple of meetings with a teacher who carries such a reputation.
For being tough, smart, and very cool. I suppose I was worried Id come across as intimidated as I am. Yesterdays bout with depression has spilled over into today. I feel a weight pulling at my chest, something tethered to my tear ducts. Feelings of loss for missing class, for the coming days, for the squandering of time I perceive to be taking place all over the map. My body being broken, my finances not in my control, the living situation I still wait for.
Making and keeping appointments feels like a drain on my psyche, yet not having anything to do is even more terrifying. What softens the burden is the homework and reading I have in front of me, alluring in its capacity to take me away from paralyzing ennui. I know that when its all over, Ill sink back into the blues like I did in May. But thats not for months in the future; I can manage until then and reevaluate how to escape it then. Another 45 minutes until my next class. What Id really like is a gym on campus.
Or at least within a few miles. I took a walk, took a pain pill, and ate a bit of veggies for lunch to try to boost my spirits. You know, all this writing is well and good, but I need to be producing something. Something viable in the marketplace. Something I can point to for career potential. What am I going to do when school is over?
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