My blog's been getting hits, so in case that's from anyone wondering why I haven't updated, I'm still here, just not doing very well. It's gotten worse since the last entry, including flareups of 12 hours, 19 hours (I broke down and had to call Psychologist just to make it through the weekend after that one), and, yesterday and the previous night, over 24 hours; during these the fluid loss isn't as great, it just flares up and lets up then flares up then lets up while I'm letting out just enough to keep me from being able to sleep or function yet too little to dehydrate me. I'm down to drinking no more than 3 cups of fluid a day (plus I'm bloated and not losing weight) but it doesn't matter, I can't understand where it's coming from. I did get almost two weeks of wonderful, regular sleep, and a few days where it didn't act up that badly, but yesterday ended that. Fortunately I was able to sleep moderately okay last night (probably with the help of the pseudoephedrine I took to help me breathe as I've been crying so much my head is stuffed--pseudoephedrine is a stimulant but makes me groggy), but all I ever feel like doing anymore is sleeping (not that I'm able that much), lying in the tub, or crying, so I don't feel like typing up an entry that much either. There's minimal support from anyone around me so that just compounds matters; I could maybe handle this a bit better if I had some encouragement and sympathy, but aside from Psychologist (who I get to see so rarely), that's not the case; I'm basically on my own. I had to dig out a big stuffed dog of mine and hug it last night, I felt so miserable and needed something to hold on to.

I could deal with this better if I knew for a fact that eventually somebody would find out what's wrong with me and help me, but I don't, and that's killing me, that this could be permanent and I might never get to go to my island or sleep or function properly again. There isn't even any pattern to this, except in that it continually gets worse. I went to the trouble of picking a female doctor in case I need to be examined but all she did was the absolute minimum--blood and urine tests--before shuttling me off to see a (male) urologist. I'm glad the urologist is located in Cheboygan (don't know about any other specialists I'll end up seeing, probably not) and I get to see him next month (ditto), but I believe he'll just do the absolute minimum of tests too before shuttling me off to yet another person who'll do the absolute minimum before shuttling me off. It's the story of my life. Recall when I was applying for disability? There were at least three, maybe more, people online who vowed--I'm not exaggerating--to go out of their way, "to the ends of the earth," as one put it, to help me through the process. How did they help? One bailed out after a few encouraging words, one pretty much snapped at me to get off my butt and get a job, and the one who promised to go to the ends of the earth told me to Google disability lawyers in the Cheboygan area and that was it, didn't hear from her again. That's just one example of many when people promised--like the female doctor I chose--to help me through a problem, then after the absolute minimum, shrugged their shoulders, said, "Oh well, better luck elsewhere!" then shuttled me off to yet another person who vowed to do their best before waffling a bit and giving up and moving on. I realize I need to put some effort into things, but I have been--twice I've had to call to get my test results because they weren't bothering to call me first--and how am I supposed to believe my life and I are worth anything when nobody else seems to believe they are? At least that's what these lukewarm "efforts" are telling me.

Even when it's not acting up, it feels like it's acting up, so I can't win no matter what the case. My life has boiled down to me sitting in the house all day crying, trying to read, lying in hot water, and looking out the windows at the birds. The birds and squirrels and the cat are my only companions anymore. My OCD--my compulsion to follow my routines no matter how little I feel like it--I have to wake up at such-and-such a time, I have to do my Internet at this time, I have to do my writing, I have to feed the birds--is the only thing that's keeping me getting up every day at all. I don't have any other real reason to bother.

So as you can see, I don't really feel like updating or doing much of anything anymore. I just want this all over, however that happens. I'd be perfectly content with just not waking up someday. My life was lousy enough before, but now even my own body is turning on me; I feel like every day a little bit more of what little I had of a life is being taken away. It's like my entire purpose in being alive is to just be crushed a little more, every day. I don't really have much left in me to crush, not that I had much to begin with.

There were a few semi-good observations and such mixed in with all the above, but I haven't the desire or energy to write about them. Plus I think it might be starting up again now; it's sad, when getting a few hours or one night of sleep is the best you can hope for anymore. I don't know when I'll next update so that's all.