Catholics aren't all bad

So Catholic Charities has a program that helps the needy pay for medical expenses and prescriptions. Thank God because the drug they want to put me on (and I may decide not to) is $1300 a month -- not to mention that it is a HUGE needle -- a HUGE shot -- that I will have to get someone else to inject into a "major muscle group." I don't think I can personally reach that muscle group.

It's official. I've got it and I have to treat it. I don't know what kind I have, but I'm sure I will find out "someday." The waiting is going to be the worst part. Jay's mom told me that she ran off to the doctor with every little thing for a while always expecting to hear that this was the next episode for which she had been waiting. She's still waiting years later. She told me that sooner or later I would stop living my life waiting and cope as it comes. I believe her.

Actually, I don't believe much, right now. I can't think clear enough to believe anything. It takes me an hour to get to school and I don't remember driving here at all. I am terrified of being pulled over -- I'm hypersensitive to every movement of anything. I had to pull over to cry because I almost hit a bird. Funny -- I think if I were SOBER I wouldn't have even flinched -- the fucking birds usually move.

Or maybe it was just a stupid bird.

My students are busily turning in their papers. I saw 8 today and I sent 7 back with no grades. One was awesome (and up yours, Chris -- I'm on drugs and I can't spell) -- it was on safety improvements in NASCAR. He had a good argument, no errors, good research -- he loved his topic. God does that show! I loved reading it!

I went to church. Am I rambling? I mean, I ramble anyway, but this stuff is so whacked! I cried on one of my students because ... well, I don't know why but he laughed and seemed totally cool with it. I laughed then, too. I know why he was cool with it -- he's freaking stoned all the time. I knew it. I called him out on it. I point blank asked him how stoned he was when he wrote his paper. He had the good grace to look sheepish but he admitted it. I told him to stay straight for a few hours and read his paper himself. Then I told him to call me and tell me what he thought. About an hour later .... "This paper doesn't make any sense, Kristen." Case in point. Pot makes people stupid.

I'm not going to be a pot head. I'm going to go to yoga -- I'm going to go to church -- plus, that takes care of my "guilt" problems that have driven me this far.