I am horribly depressed right now and wish I could just get some deadly disease or drop dead from a heart attack. I was so fatigued I could barely get out of bed – it was horrible and it still is. My sleep has also been messed up because of the stress. It's fragmented, and today was cut short, partly because I just lay around so much the day before, and was stressed about Tom.

I’m also really down because, although it's not a surprise at this point, Tinkerbella’s tumor is growing, and she's losing weight. With my experience with rats, I put it at some time in August that well…that’s all I’ll say about that. I’m miserable enough right now.

Tom’s surgery went well and he’s recovering fine, but his 15-minute procedure ended up taking hours because his fucking wife had to end up with a driving phobia and though he’s always sworn he doesn’t mind.

First, the driver parked at Toni’s place. Then, as soon as Tom got into his car, even though he would never want me to drive and I'm at the point where I couldn't anyway, given all this fatigue and brain fog, he immediately wished I were with him. The driver didn't speak English! Why people choose to work in a country where they don't speak the language is beyond me. Sure, it’s better than them mooching off of welfare, but if you're going to come to the U.S., please learn the language first.

Tom wasn’t driven straight to the appointment. They had to pick up other people first, and there were all sorts of communication problems, though he did arrive on time. Then he had to wait forever, and the surgery that was scheduled for 8:30 didn’t happen until 11:00.

He said I was right about how the stuff they gave him would affect him. Whatever they gave him via IV caused him to have gaps in his memory, and his sense of time was distorted as well. I'm guessing they gave him Triazolam. He can remember some of it, just like I could remember some of the dental work I had done on me.

He said that after they hooked him to the IV, they put in several different eye drops. Then they strapped his head, and it was pretty tight. He was told not to move his hands because that would scare the doctor. He said he remembers his head shaking or something like that. He was also told that he needed to focus on a certain light and that the doctor may call out to him to do so if he started to drift.

After the procedure, he was given a couple of Oreo cookies and a soda. He dropped some crumbs on the floor and bent down to pick them up, but the nurses scolded him for that, lol. Same with when he went to leave a whole hour and a half later when they finally came to pick him up, saying that he needed to be escorted out. He said it was funny because the woman was kind of old and frail, and he felt like he was supporting her more than she was supporting him.

So this time he got a driver who spoke English. They had to drop off an old lady who seemed really out of it, who was with her caretaker, before coming home.

His eyes look funny with one pupil so much larger than the other. He's not in any pain but has to resist the urge to scratch his eye because he feels sort of like he has an eyelash caught in it or something. They gave him a rounded piece of plastic to tape over his eye when he's sleeping.

He took a long nap after he got home and ate, then he was up for a while, and I cried on his shoulder after he told me about his day. And now he's asleep again. Because of the long nap, he doesn't expect to sleep more than a few hours. This way, I can take my first dose of Doxepin at bedtime with him up and alert, although I'm at the point where I would do it even if he weren't here or was asleep because I just don't care anymore.

Research suggests that CoQ10 can help with chronic fatigue, but when I asked Rhonda about it, she said she's not aware of that helping, so I said fuck it. Just like with the anxiety, nothing I do is going to help. I'm left with no choice but to be forced to suffer through it.

Tom thinks I'm really tired today because I was on the vibe platform the other day, and that's just too much for me to take on with this disease.

Whatever the case may be, I feel picked on, singled out, helpless, and hopeless. I’m looking at a very rough road for the rest of my life, however long that is, and all I can say is that, at this point, the shorter the better. I’m so, SO tired of dealing with health issues year after year!