My pointer finger is quite sore. I was trying to figure out why. Maybe it was something to do with giving almost 150 vaccines this week. That’s the finger I use on the plunger.

I’m so tired and I can’t sleep because my shoulder hurts so much. I’m pretty sure it keeps popping out of proper alignment. My ortho doctor’s PA insists some pain is normal, even when I told her it’s getting worse. Idk what to do.

I am in such a bad mood. Everything is upsetting me. I’m angry and sad at the same time.

I’ve been in a real amount of pain for a while now, under my right ribs. I can’t keep my blood sugar in any interpretation of “good” range. Something’s gotta be wrong. I just can’t be bothered to see a doctor. I don’t want to be told I’m fine. Again.

The best thing to happen to me today was the local grocery store including gluten free Oreos in their sale.

What’s the opposite of hypochondria? I hardly ever expect something to be wrong with my body, but there always IS a problem.

Nobody has more disdain for the American healthcare system than the people who interact with it daily.

Many times when I stay up too late it’s because I just don’t want to do the million little things I need to do before bed: handful of pills, basal shot, final bg check, prepare my pillow cocoon so my joints stay where they are supposed to…

So I was being silly with this one, but now I think doing rapid-fire vaccine clinics is the reason my finger hurts. My fingers are hypermobile. I did 40 more today. My pointer finger joints all hurt and are swollen, but the rest of my fingers are fine! I feel crazy.

A lot of people make the mistake of believing that medical products/services operate on standard economic principles. Nope. Large scaling doesn’t lead to better, cheaper outcomes. It just means that wrongful death suits become a line in the budget.

I’ve taken a lot of French language courses over the years. Every book is full of dialogue featuring a generic, French-speaking woman named Hélène. Giving the name Helene, no accents, to this hurricane is making my brain itch.

I keep flipping news channels and they are all saying DO NOT LEAVE YOUR HOUSE. My dad texted me to say my Camry will not make it out. But I have work and my brain is broken. Capitalism has trained me to put work first. (I’m not going)

So, as I expected, there’s nothing wrong. No organs about to explode. My mother just doesn’t like it when I’m visibly in pain, so I went to calm us both down. I’ll just be over here, still with pain, trying not to puke.