I’m now 99.9% sure my elevated white blood cell count is due to having an autoimmune disease. Tammy confirmed that her own white blood cell count has been elevated for years and she has a couple of autoimmune diseases. Because I likely had Graves’ disease when I was younger, this would explain why it was elevated back then as well. My dumbass body thinks it’s one big disease, including my skin cells. That’s why I have this rash which I’ve learned is called lichen planus. I read that it usually goes away on its own. Yeah, right. Like mine is going to go away on its own because I’m always oh-so normal and within the norm and because I ever get any breaks in life? I may be stuck with it for life if my body can’t tolerate any of the treatments available.

Although I know it will be a waste of time, money and gas, I got an appointment scheduled with a hematologist on January 2. Because women doctors are now more in demand, I think the only reason I was able to get in that soon is that he’s a guy. He’s also a foreigner and people just don’t want to deal with the fucking accents. They take the time to learn our language but they don’t care to talk like us so we can better understand them. I appreciate the foreign doctors adding to the list of American doctors so that there wouldn’t be even more waiting time to get in to see a doctor for whatever, but just a few minutes a day of speech/accent practice could really go a long way to making a difference in being more comprehensible. The last thing people need is communication errors when it comes to their health. Whenever I’ve had to speak Spanish to those who didn’t speak English, I always did my best to affect the accent.

Soon I’ll make an appointment with the dermatologist. My top four picks, which happened to be closest to us, are women. This means it will probably be months before I can get in. I didn’t have a choice with the hematologist because Dr. A recommended that one herself.

It hit me after my last entry that the mysterious fatigue I had yesterday was probably caused by the flu shot. I’m on the skier right now as I speak because I know it’s only a matter of time before something steals my energy and I can’t work out. Still not sleeping that great either. I woke up several times, one time in which I considered getting up and making some Sleepytime tea before I fell back asleep. I don’t know why I go back and forth with that. Sometimes I sleep well, sometimes I don’t.

I was thinking I might stop the Amberen for a while and see how I do. If I start sleeping worse, getting lightheaded, or too hot flashy, I’ll go back on it. I don’t think I’m very likely to go hot flashing that easily since we’re getting down into the 30s at night. It was fucking freezing when we went to Denny’s in the morning yesterday! We went at 2 AM and sure enough, a woman with a baby comes and sits right next to us. I know babies don’t have much of a schedule but come on! At 2am? We go out at that hour not only to avoid crowds but the brats as well. Being that the place was mostly empty, we were able to move. It didn’t end up being that noisy, though, and it left not too long afterward. Of course, if we didn’t have the option to move, it would’ve been there screaming its ass off the whole time.

Anyway, I got a traditional breakfast… bacon, eggs, pancakes and a biscuit.

Watching The Missing on AP. It’s pretty good so far, but of course it’s foreign. Everything these days is either documentaries or foreign, but at least it’s good.

My Blogger blog, which I may or may not resume using, has been getting spam for some reason so I disabled comments.

As for losing weight, I think all I can do is just exercise when I can and try to eat sensibly most days. From what I’m learning, not all weight can be lost, especially if you’re older. I used to believe that all fat people stuffed themselves silly and that anyone could lose weight. See how ignorant we can be when it’s something we haven’t experienced first-hand? LOL Like a straight person who’s so sure gays choose to be that way, or those that believe all the depressed need to do is smile and tell themselves all is just peachy.

It seems that the longer we’re heavy, the more it literally becomes us. It’s us. A part of us just like our height is a part of us.

Can’t remember much in the way of dreams for the last couple of nights. Just something about showing Patrice, my porcelain ballerina doll, to my old celebrity pictures, Tom baking his mother a cake while I made dinner, and Bob so sure that I killed someone and that I’d be the “best bum in the trees.”