No, you misread me Renster dearie, the good bit was not the suffering spoken of above. It was the RELIEF being delivered to me, bag of meds placed right by my side, as I at the time still was unable to get up, due to the seizures and primarily, the sheer quantity of adrenolytic medication I'd needed that miserable, shitty son of a cunt day and night.
When you go through that, and then relief comes that you KNOW will take away all that awfulness in a matter of minutes, and you swallow the first couple of antiseizure-med capsules and to make the onset as fast as it was practical, without being able to become upright due to the bottomed-out blood pressure thanks to the adrenolytic drugs without passing out within a few seconds, and as such unable to get to where the kit for my IM morphine shots is kept (up a flight of stairs, not something I'd want to chance, either trying to get there on all fours, crawling up a flight of stairs, or risking passing out just having prepared, and thus spilling the shot, before its drawing into a syringe and sticking into a suitable muscle tissue mass), relied on the IR oxycodone, this time, for speed of onset's sake, the capsules opened, poured out into a pair of piles of about 60mg each and sent up my nose, after unblocking the former with decongestant drops, and chasing it with a few drops of clean water to ensure rapid absorption)
Took a minute or maybe two at most, of 'uggh....hurry the FUCK UP DAMMIT!!!!!!' as my body, with its added case of a nasty cold, converted quickly from sick as a dog to well and agony-less hips and knee and toenail-less toe, the shakes, sweating etc. and all the other awfulness stopping, as well as the seizures and vicious little shits of an electric-shock sensation to the head, going right up my spine every few damnable seconds (for all of said day and night) All thanks to my dr surgery shorting me some of my meds, pain meds included and my only realizing they were missing from the script when it was both friday and past the closing time of the surgery, making it impossible to rectify.
So go through, come to think of it, a friday just-end-of-night beginning of saturday, the entire saturday from morning until the coming monday morning at 8am (well just past 8am inc. the time taken to actually translate the prescription into the medications themselves, via my father, who went to pick them up for me given I couldn't stand upright and not pass out or seizure again or both)...and with that list of atrocities being un-interrupted for the entire accursed time, (I hope you never, ever, ever do, or even approach anything like it from any range closer than reading the above written account, of course Ren, I'd never wish that on you, hell to the flying fuck no!) and believe you me, you would be one happy short-bus-rider-lady with the great death stare and glasses custom-made to enhance same when a bag full of 9-10 different forms of relief were dumped in your lap, ready to take away the misery within minutes. You'd be grinning wider a grin than a nonce teleported into a staff-less orphanage for deaf-mute blind under-5s. Hell it'd be so damn wide a grin you'd be grinning that you'd be smiling twice. Once for your face, and the other from where your lips stretched round the back of your head to meet the portion of them still on the same side of your head as your eyes, nose and the way the front of your ears normally are directed)
And not impossibly right around again so one grin could kiss the other in 'oh my holy jumpin' jesus H mother of furry purple unicorn-riding badger-fucking wonder-burgers' gleeful relief.
Sorry to hear about your gums bleeding
*proffers a comforting hug or building of an autie/aspie-squeezer-machine*
(I SO have to build myself one of those, after hearing of Temple Grandin's squeeze machine..albeit a goth-rocker leather and metal contraption with a few stereotypical 'mad scientist' decorative additions to personalize it
) I do have a pair of really, REALLY tight fitting, figure-hugging leather zip-up jackets actually meant to be worn by very late pre-teen to just about teenage female body sizes and widths, gotten from a charity store, and at that, extra-small, for about £9 to £12, per jacket, that I literally have to suck-in my already wire-whip-thin frame around my middle and anywhere else that can be inwardly-sucked physiologically speaking in order just to wriggle into the arms and get either one of the two on me, let alone zip them up, where I really, REALLY have to hold my breath, but they don't look 'girly' if that makes sense, and still suit a guy, or at least they would if men came in 9-year-old-girl-or-thereabouts size ranges at the age of their early 30s (the men that is
), and I can JUST about get them on when sucking in every last bit of every bodypart above the waist that can be made to go closer to my internal organs or spinal column depending on which side of the coats be in question, and a combination of exhaling completely, after repeated deep, deep inhale-exhales to oxygenate my blood as much as can be so I can keep my breath finally all pushed out, before wriggling and squirming into one or other of those leathers and then zipping it up, before finally breathing in again (technically speaking, at least
) Its a built-in squeeze machine of sorts. But I would love to build myself a lying-prone position autie-squasher with some deep-tissue-squishifying leather-padded rollers that could be programmed to move in whatever a manner of squashing I'd so desire at that particular moment using some simple motors and arduino controllers to serve as a non-living autie-squasher deep-tissue massager that'd be possessed of both greater physical strength than a human, and that would do exactly as it was told to without anything along the lines of asking questions such as 'are you fucking serious?' or 'do you actually mean to say you WANT me to do that to you?' or 'should I have paramedics on speed-dial or should I call them here first???' or just 'no, I'm happy enough to give a deep tissue massage, but I don't want to risk pig-charges and having to defend myself in court for attempted murder/I'm not risking making your eyeballs pop out of their sockets'/are you weird in the fucking head?' etc.
(albeit the answer to the last of those would be 'yes, you daft arse, and I'm proud of it too...what...do I have to flap to order now just to prove it?
?? because I only hand/arm-flap when I feel like it, since I'm an autist not either a robot or circus entertainment, you want flaps on command, go pull down your father's underwear and look between his legs'
I may be a freak, but I sure as shit ain't a member of the circus or anybody's entertainment. Not THAT kind of entertainment anyway, and THAT kind of entertainment is only ever, if available whatsoever, available to one single individual (autistic) human being at any one time, so your are shit outa luck in either respect :lol:
