December 10, 2009
She finally called. The nurse. She finally called. She said her name is Tammy. She didn’t call sooner because she had ‘an emergency’ in her family. I’m sitting here thinking I’m losing my damn mind and my husband won’t talk to me unless he has to anymore, and she couldn’t call because it was ‘inconvenient’ … fuck that. Fuck her. I’m holed up in my library and I haven’t slept in days. Bits and pieces here and there when my eyes simply wouldn’t stay open anymore; that’s it. But she was ‘busy.’ Whatever. I got what I needed.
Tammy said these people she mentioned are online. They actually post their experiences on a website. I suppose, like me talking to my computer, it gives them a way to talk to each other. The best part is even though they can talk about it, right there in the open, no one thinks they’re crazy for it, because those who don’t believe simply don’t take it seriously. And those who know better; well, those who know better get validation that they aren’t the only ones.
Anyway, Tammy said she gave one of these people parts of my file from Thanksgiving but not to worry because she had taken out the identifiers. She said this guy was interested in my story and wanted to talk to me, so she gave me the web address for this site and an e-mail address. I sent an e-mail right away and the guy got back to me even as I began my diary entry about it. I’m going to send him my diary entries so I don’t have to waste time telling everything again.
Maybe … maybe everything’s going to be okay. Maybe they can help. Maybe it’ll stop now. I can’t wait to go look at the website after I send all this.