The Maddening Angel called me, probably to arrange for us hang out, while I was at work yesterday, and I didn't even call her back. The Friar texted me twice about a band playing at the Hangout and I didn't answer him. I do feel guilty and self-recriminatory about this anchoritic snubbing of my few friends. It doesn't come from arrogance; it comes from a feeling of worthlessness. This is sad but true.
Results came back from my urinalysis and CBC at the leech. Supposedly, I have high blood pressure, which is a surprise to me, because I've always had low blood pressure. Also, I have a low platelet count, which has always been the case (I'm a bleeder). Also, my HDL (the so-called "good" cholesterol) is low, so they want to see me again.
I always knew I wouldn't live a long time, and I've sort of come to accept it, in a kind of cowardly fatalistic way. But, amazing as it seems given my congenital health issues, I never actually thought about having to go on medication. I guess I pictured myself either healthy or dead. Or, perhaps, requiring an operation. But going on a regimen of medications, which I assume the leech wants to start up, seems to me to be the first step toward being an invalid.
If only I'd done more, earlier, with my life.