You're not funny.

02/12/11 - I am stubborn. That's really my only excuse.


I actually got a pretty good amount of sleep last night (no work this morning - HA) but still woke up feeling like crap. This has gone on for a few nights now. Headaches, light-headedness, nausea, sometimes even a bit of a nosebleed... I get hit with it all the instant I wake up (usually from that stupid dream) with a nice dosage of exhaustion on top. I shouldn't be this tired - I'm not DOING anything extra. I have to work with the symptoms most of the day, then by the time evening rolls around I'm only left with the exhaustion part, so go to bed... which starts the whole fucking thing over again.

Yesterday I nearly fell over at work from a dizzy spell - had to grab a sales rack to steady myself. My boss didn't particularly like that after my incident the other day, so (not letting me drive *insertcolourfulswearinghere* THEWOMANTOOKMYKEYSDAMMIT) called home to get my mum to come get me. Me being me still didn't want to go, but I was then practically dragged to the hospital. Spent most of the day waiting (a good medical system we do have, but quick, it is not) with my ipod cranked so I didn't have to listen to another lecture, only for the good, old doctor to tell me that I have a mild concussion.

Don't you have to have a time that you blacked out to get one of those? Already had one of those earlier, but wasn't saying that, now was I? Plus, concussion = bullshit. Because I didn't allow the below tests, they had no way of really confirming. They just looked at my symptoms. Which would, I admit, point to concussion. Had I not a supernatural visitor, that is.

Anyway, he wanted to do brain imaging/screening/xraying/whatever it is and for me to spend the night. Honestly, I probably WOULD have tolerated the testing... but I got up and left the second he suggested staying over. He and my mum tried to talk some sense into me, of course, but I just went out and waited by the car. I'm old enough I don't have to stay if I don't want to and I don't FUCKING WANT TO. I hate hospitals. I hate doctors. I hate it all. I spent two weeks in those hell holes when I was younger - I'm NOT staying there again even for one fucking night. Starting to believe there is more to this as well. Still not certain.

He was there - watching me from across the parking lot from where I was leaning against my car. My head was throbbing at that point, but I just glared back. Something tells me He's amused. Or maybe that's just how I'd feel if I was Him witnessing me right now - nearly smashing my brain on a fucking STEP and yet I dare to not obey Him? Pathetic. Least that was my view of myself.

He was still there when my mum finally came out, giving me a speech about being reckless and immature. I was barely listening - I was watching His head tilt at that fucking impossible angle that made a shiver go up my spine. I'm not sure if it's paranoia or not, but I suddenly got the thought that He was looking at her and not me anymore. I didn't like that thought.

I did manage to convince her to go after that. We got home late enough (about five-ish), I spent some time catching up on blogs, did chores, then went to bed. Had that dream again... and woke up this morning to a face staring right back at me. I practically threw myself backwards (hello, spinning senses and nausea. Missed you!) and whatever it was fell to the floor at the side of my bed. I peeked over...

It was Zeddy - my fucking stuffed bear - who was now on his back on the floor staring up at me. He had been PLACED on my goddamn BED. I practically threw him back on the shelf.

I'm not liking His sense of humor. At all.