I may die soon. That thought crossed my mind about six months ago. When thoughts come out of the blue like that, they almost always end up being the truth.
Not to seem morbid, but I find breathing harder and harder. Lack of exercise contributes a large part to the breathing problems. I find my days run together with lots of sleep and some eating. I feed my boys and spend an enormous amount of time on Facebook. The social media replaces face to face interactions with people. Since Facebook serves as my socializing, I do not dress or much of anything else.
Add to that mix major depressive disorder, and I hurt. The meds prescribed for me in January worked at first. Now not so much. I have sent emails to the doc and my next appointment falls at the end of May. Until then, I hold on as best as I can. I cannot predict when that gloomy cloud will roll over me nor even how long the spell will last.
The Accredo pharmacist turned me in to my lung doc because I cannot seem to work in the third sildenfil tablet. I no longer have a cell phone nor do I have an alarm clock. So I take two pills instead of three. That means I have two full bottles of pills when I should have close to none.
I do not wear my o2 half the time when I am sitting because the cannula bothers my nose.
I will save politics for another day.
I miss you dude, still. Guess I always will.
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