At work, I felt cold. Shivering cold. Then my head started to hurt, and then I felt dizzy when I stood up to leave.
Walking home was slow, deliberate. Not so slow makes diziness come back.
Home, vets house.There's a dinner saved for me since I was at work web the chow hall was open. A spoonful each of mashed potatoes and green beans. A small portion of what looks like yesterday's dog food. Or plastic fake vomit. It's actually three forkfuls of meatloaf from I'm not sure when. Lunch was a PB&J sandwich, a Fruity Pebbles bar, and a big grab of Cheetos.
Nutrition is not a priority at vets house.
I hurry up to my room, hoping like hell that I wont encounter anyone else. I sit on the edge of my bed for a while, while the room pretends to be the deck of a ship in heavy chop.
Another slow deliberate walk to McDs. I pass two people, and neither make eye contact. The cashiers don't make eye contact either. Three cheezeburgers, large Coke.
The headache is easing up, a little. I can still feel my blood pulsing in my head. Coke and aspirin, always works. Usually.
Tomorrow at vets house, someone is going to go to every room to test the fire alarms. This is bad. I don't respond well to fire, or any other kind of alarms. When alarms went off in the Desert, the sound meant you needed to haul ass, don and clear, and if you were lucky, not die.
I also don't respond well to people putting notices on my door. They did give us 24 hrs notice (it's the law here). Shit tacked up on my door isn't good either- last summer there was a different notice on my door every other day-- none of them offering good news.
The people that run vets house like to knock, very loudly, and then announce they're coming in as they unlock the door. If I'm in my room when this happens, I hide under the blankets and don't move a muscle or make a sound. Sometimes they go away. Sometimes they slide paper under the door. Other times, they call and when they get voicemail they call again.
My room tends to reflect how I'm feeling. If I feel like shit, my room is trashed. Guess what state my room is in right now?
So tomorrow, when they come to test the alarms, they'll knock and call. They might come in, where they'll see my naked ass sprawled on my bed asleep. They will also see that my room is messy, which is a Big Deal because it means I'm not doing well.
So someone will call me and want to talk to me about my goals, and someone will suggest that I sleep eight hours a night and get some exercise. And clean my room, which Has Been Noted As A Problem Before.
No one will ask me if I need to talk. They'll set up more appointments for me to talk to more people at the VA Hospital. Maybe they'll do like they did when I was first having trouble with pay and rent-- sit me down in front of three people who will take turns telling me how I'm fucking up a good situation and how I'm going to end up on the street again.
No one will ask me if I need to talk, or if I just need some quiet time, even when they know I'm struggling. They'll decide if I stay or go, and I'll be on the street again or I will not. It's all up to me, they will say, but ultimately they decide.
I feel like shit, I'm tired and in need of sleep. Take your fucking fire alarm inspection, shove it up your ass, and let me sleep.