It seems my rage and anxiety over Quinn's cold and the amount of time I have to spend caring for him has given way to a dull, gray, dead feeling. It's like a blanket of lead has fallen over everything. Quinn wont be able to go to school tomorrow. He's got boogers coming out of his eyes and needs antibiotic drops for 24 hours before he can go back. I'll have to spend most of another day taking care of him. I'm not pissed. I'm just sort of reacting like how I imagine a stupid cow might react: Slowly, not really caring much about anything. It's sort of a hopeless, resigned feeling. Like my body is going into autopilot or semi-hibernation until this shit is over. (But when will that be? Never.) I can feel my reaction time blunting: when my senses receive a new stimulus, my first reaction isn't "What was that?" but more "Oh God, should I even bother?" This really isn't like me. I can still "pass", and with effort carry on phone conversations, do uncomplicated household tasks, do all the Quinn stuff, and fulfill the daily routines of life. But it sort of feels like I'm operating myself by remote control. And that I'm not a particularly fun toy to operate. Again, feelings do come through. But they're strangely muted. It's just too much effort to get worked up about anything.
I'm seeing a doctor tomorrow morning. Or rather, a physician's assistant. Let's see what modern pharmacology has to offer.
Our summer vacation. - This trip was one of a lifetime!!!! The Griffin Adventures started in December of 2002 when we received pictures of babies that would later be named I...
2 weeks ago