Ableism at its finest

To get my meds today, I had to write my name.

I was not given my meds, because I can’t write.

The pharmacist didn’t even come out from behind the big counter, so I have not much idea what he was saying. Trying to explain led to him yelling ‘I’LL WRITE IT DOWN’. I walked out. I did not grab the meds off the counter. They do this thing, see, where they get them off the shelf, put them right there, and then I am like ‘can I make it out fast enough?’ and because my back is so bad that if I do not take my meds, it ends up at nausea-level after about twenty minutes (Is that the time? Wow, I lost time again.), obviously, that isn’t happening. It’s also illegal, but.

 

I ended up getting them at a place up the road. I was there, in tears, five minutes before closing. They’d already turned off the computer, and I must have looked even worse than normal, because there were no questions.

 

Apparently this system is meant to help people, you know get help. It was literally two months ago that someone decided ‘oh yeah, you have chronic pain’. It started in 2003. Yeah.

 

I did manage to get my census done, though, eventually. They promised I won’t be fined. But, you know, they’ll send someone out to harass me and destroy my mailbox. You know, the usual.

 

I have reached my sitting threshold for the day and I have just realised that it has been 26 hours since I ate anything. I can only eat pasta right now. It’s gluten free pasta, made from rice. I have gone two weeks without anything with wheat gluten and suddenly, I am able to poo. I have been hearing that the corn substitute for wheat gluten is just as bad. One day I must write about my food journey. Apparently, now I need to pay for allergy testing to prove that I have an allergy I have had since, um, well, I was born? Or before? I don’t know if anyone knows when it starts. This is the same allergy that made my previous GP go ‘oh shit’ after he prescribed me sumatriptan and I went back to him with a swollen throat, bloating, a rash under my left eye, and itchiness. Guess what was an inactive ingredient? Guess who said ‘oh, no, it’s not very much, it won’t do anything at all’?

 

 

So I was going to talk about things other than my general health status here, when I started it, but so far that hasn’t worked out.

Today I went to see a movie. I was very proud of myself because I went to a cinema I have never been to before, even after the drama with the medication and after getting to the shops to find my purse, with all my talking notes and my cards in, was not with me. I went because I had a free ticket, and it was Captain Fantastic starring Viggo Mortensen. I have very rarely seen someone else as excited as me about receiving a new knife. The movie was very ambiguous about Viggo’s character’s state of mind; which I thought detracted from the movie as while we were observing everyone else, we were unable to understand his mental state and the reasons for his actions, and so it became flat and his performance was much less sympathetic and probably more inscrutable than it was directed to be, given how it ended and how everything was reflected back at him in the end. Having a central character be mostly an observer, a controller, and yet given the most significant emotional journey in the film, is a bit of a contradiction. I think it is the kind of movie you have to know how it ends to understand how it leads up to that, and while we have dream sequences, we weren’t given flashbacks, so the understanding we could have had of him was lost. For a movie that was meant to be intellectually deep, as well, the literary signposts were very transparent – analysing Lolita the way they did was more of an anvil than foreshadowing, and anyone who has seen Pollyanna will know what happens at a certain point. I feel like there may have been a message that was lost or made shallow, in between the obviousness, and perhaps we are meant to somehow sit through it two or three times to find a new layer, but doing so? Well, that might be an exercise in patience.

Of course, sitting in a cinema wasn’t good for me either, and I nearly threw up from the nausea when I tried to have a drink. I meant to buy one on the way there, but I ran out of time and bought one from the candy bar instead. I pointed to the ‘Coke’ sign and eventually acquired something approximating Coke. I generally don’t do soda fountains, so I’m not sure if it was Coke, or just meant to be Coke, or it just tasted off because I was nearly throwing up from nausea irrelevant to the different source of drinkable liquid. I nearly threw it up either way. But… I managed to communicate my wishes to the person on the other side of the counter and reach a conclusion. Apparently, it is still possible.

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