This was the day I “fought” for my life, or at least thought I was, not knowing what the hell was going on, thanks to the so-called good docs that left me rather ill-informed. Little did I know what hell I’d be in for over the next several months until I could find a doctor that would not only explain more to me about how thyroids work, but that cared enough to get my medication dose regulated. Thanks, Doc O. I wish I’d seen you all along. 

The older I get, the more I believe the God fantasy was created as a means of surviving life and is basically an adult’s version of an imaginary friend as most children have their own imaginary friends when they’re young. But IF there is any truth to the God thing and IF it does pick and choose our experiences, I will NEVER forgive it for having the shit scared out of me so damn bad that day. I didn’t know if I would live or die. Even once I knew I would live, I suffered both physically and emotionally in ways I never had before for many months. I didn’t deserve that. I hadn’t harmed anyone. I hadn’t done anything but just live my life. 

When people would say something like, “I’m anxious to get started,” or “I’m anxious to get going…” that’s what I thought anxiety meant. I thought it was a form of being restless and impatient. I didn’t know that REAL anxiety meant being scared shitless no matter how much your common sense side said you didn’t have a damn thing to fear. It was easily the worst experience of my life and I hope to hell I never suffer like that again. 

In happier news, I talked to texted my last chapter on my smartphone and into an email to myself, which I then copied into Word. It seemed to take just minutes, and Google’s speech-to-text is more accurate than the built-in dictation. I still have to edit it by creating paragraphs and adding quotes to dialogue, but it’s not the hassle I thought it might be. I just use a font where the end quotes are the same as the starting quotes, copy the symbol, and then just paste, paste and paste along the way.