So, I'm now in one of my hardest times of the almost year I've had to spend here. I found out a few days ago that I will have to wait another month for the visit from my friend because of his job. I'm not angry at him at all, but I'm very frustrated at the situation. Sometimes I wonder if God gets bored and decides to mess with me because the reaction should prove entertaining.
On top of that, I have yet another UTI, strong enough this time that they decided to put me on the antibiotic called Rocephin. It's not oral, it's an injectable. So from now until next Friday, I get a shot in the ass every 12 hours. Happy happy joy joy.
Besides the injection hurting, the actual medicine wipes me out beyond any other antibiotics I've ever experienced so far. I have absolutely no energy, and can go out nowhere very far because of the extreme intestinal protest the medicine creates. And life here is getting worse. Roommate wakes me up with her fall alarm like five times a night. But the social worker and everyone says with their hands are tied, that the person who complains first has to move rooms. They can't just move her arbitrarily just because she wouldn't know what is going on. It's against the law. And I can't move because I would lose my computer and phone set up, which are my lifelines right now. So I'm stuck.
If I'm very fortunate, I will still get to have a massage on Wednesday, but I am not sure. Because my dad still hasn't sent me the guilt money for February. On one hand I hate to be standing there with my hand out tapping my foot, but he agreed to do this for me, and I really do need it. His excuse will probably be that he is getting married again a week from today, (another source of joy, because I have to go to the old hometown again) and he needs the money. But so do I. They have not even sent me the outfit I'm supposed to wear, which I have to ride down there wearing because we have to go straight to the wedding.
I'm glad they're happy, and I really do like my stepmom to be. I still don't think they make the best couple all around because they are always fighting when I see them, but I guess that's kind of a moot point because it's not my choice. And they've been living together for about three years, so in their eyes, finally getting married before God is definitely the right thing to do.
But I'm still shocked about how little my family understands or seems to care about me. I was trying to tell my newly in the area sister about getting woken up five times a night lately. Instead of sympathy, her response was to point out the fact that people with babies have to get up five times a night or more, so I'm not the only one and I should not complain so much. And also to please stop complaining about the food. I wanted to say I will stop complaining about the food when you stop complaining about my weight gain, but I just did not have the energy to keep going on like that.
Something recently happened that restored some of my faith in the human race, though, to try to end this on a good note. My friends that got their house burned needed $1000 to be able to move into the house next door. My little chosen family/poker group was able to raise $1274. In one night. When they passed around the microphone to the group after the official announcement, my massage giving friend said "all I have to say is that I now know that I have a home and a family here in Portland." The applause was deafening. They still have a long way to go toward actually rebuilding their lives, because they did lose everything material, but we all were reminded in that moment that material is not the most important thing.
That's all I feel like writing for now.