Magical Truthsaying Bastard Shadesong (shadesong) wrote,
Magical Truthsaying Bastard Shadesong
shadesong

Excavation

While Adam was in Phoenix, Judah and I braved the wilderness of his bedroom to pack books (P-Z was in there!). Adam... hoards. It was like an archaeological dig, particularly techwise. Judah: "Adam has a Newton?!?"

I'm not like that; I'm famously organized, and my office is the tidiest room in the house by far. I am ISO-9000 compliant! You walk in here and everything is in a logical place. *nod*

So today I started to go through my file cabinets.

Oh. I'm a hoarder too. It's just less apparent, because my stuff isn't in teetering piles all over the room - it's neatly filed. But still. Oh my word, you guys, I have stuff from open enrollment for my work's health insurance from 2001. Neatly filed and labeled, mind you. But do I need a list of dentists in Atlanta? I do not.

A lot of this is going in the trash. Ideally I'll be able to go from three file cabinets to two. *determined nod*

But what's so telling to me is what's not filed, what's a huge wad of paper bristling out of the drawer.

Medical stuff.

We moved, as I've said, immediately after I got out of the hospital for that weeklong video EEG study. So the paperwork from that is just crammed in front. But it goes farther back than that. The epilepsy diagnosis was in 2003; the chronic pain that was later diagnosed as celiac disease emerged in 2006. Between then there was a paperwork storm. I have a file neatly marked "epilepsy", but the contents are meager - because immediately after that diagnosis, I went on the Hell Drugs, and I used all of the scraps of organization-brain I had left to desperately attempt to hang onto my job. Unable to distinguish between important information and trivial information, I filed everything. Every receipt from the pharmacy, every insurance approval or denial, every carbon-copy of a bloodwork order, every damn thing is in here, and I've kept up with my other files, but this drawer, I just haven't touched. This drawer of pain and fear, these piles of test results - endoscopies, biopsies, X-rays, bloodwork...

So much of this is going in the trash today. Because so much of it is just stuff that the Hell Drugs kept me from understanding; knowing that I couldn't think, I knew that I couldn't tell what might be important.

Getting off the Hell Drugs changed everything. If you didn't know me then - you just have no idea.

So as I'm moving this time, I'm only bringing what's important. Because now I can tell what that is.
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