The Manic Mechanic

Today I drove to the MVA to put in the paperwork and get a temporary handicapped parking placard. The place was packed, with the usual feel (and sound, thanks to the P.A. system and loud talkers) of a third-world country. When I inquired about where I had to go to get things done, I was directed to the far end of the building. On arriving there, I was greeted with a non-moving line of probably 100 people, folded back and forth by a corral of tape guide posts. I cannot stand in one place for more than five minutes, much less the time needed among that claustrophobic mess. I walked out. Granted, it was later in the day. I'll try earlier again tomorrow, if I'm greeted with the same noisy mass of humanity that teabagger nightmares are made of, I'll make my own scene with the folks running that show as to what a poor sot like me is expected to do. I was incensed.

To top things off, my cell phone rings on the way home, and I'm informed that my surgery date is not until fucking October 11. Another goddamn month and then some to endure this ever worsening hell before I can even hope for any relief. I pulled into a parking lot and tried to keep from falling apart, with limited success. Jeff finds me later that day in the garage, in a gloomy funk though trying to keep busy with stuff as good as I can. I told him the news, he stood shocked at the date so seemingly far in the future. We talked about it all through my haze of frustration, he tried to cheer me up in a bit of an inopportune way, to which I threw my project on the floor and recoiled. This made him go off in a huff, with Kodi in tow, and there I was, soaking in the knowledge that despite all appearances, I'm really alone in this fucking battle. I totally lost it. I'm really trying my best, but unlike the way I'm used to things, I am far too reliant, and withheld, by external forces beyond my control. In the grand scheme of things, compared to what I've dealt with in the past, and what some friends of mine are dealing with, it's relatively minor. But the circumstances, the pain, the financial bits, the often humiliating situations I find myself in and the absolute glacial rate of progress through this ordeal is really beginning to beat me down. I'll manage, I'm sure. My fear is that this episode in my life will leave a mark on me, and I don't mean a surgical scar. I'm afraid I will become an old, cynical, practically hateful man ready to snap at people and situations that would normally slide off my back.

Perhaps I shouldn't have posted this. But I needed to vent.