It’s been over 24 hours since I had the ultrasound and no one has called me with results.
“The only thing wrong with you is your mind. Call them, Munchausen,” texted my friend to me.
Needless to say, my friend is mad at me. First of all, I find about an hour or so before I had the ultrasound, that she really didn’t want to go with me. That her boyfriend was mad that she was going with me instead of being with him, and that she now has to deal with two crybabies now.
Were I a cunt, I’d let her boyfriend know that I am lumped in the same box as him, the ‘crybaby’ box. He’d love that, I’m sure. I did tell him not to be mad at her, that she really hadn’t wanted to come with me at all, hoping he’d stop being mad.
I was really distressed that she didn’t want to come with me and hid it as best I could. She was nice to me while at the radiologist’s though.
What sealed the deal though is that the strays at the doctor’s office were missing when we went to feed them. She went crazy. “If that dentist trapped them, I’ m breaking out his windows, you know I will.”
“It’s raining. They probably don’t want to come out,” I replied. She lit into me that they’re strays and if they were that weak, they wouldn’t have survived all the years we’ve been feeding them.
I didn’t see them a few hours later when I came back around midnight. I didn’t tell my friend this, but I was taking them being gone as an omen that the one thing I’m useful for is gone. Surely, I will find out that I’m dying.
I also feel like one of the main reasons I’m kept as a friend is to feed the strays. I don’t tell her this, but that’s how our friendship began. I try to tell myself it isn’t true.
She found the cats yesterday. She even got people from Friends of Felines to go look for them. I didn’t go because I didn’t want to have to introduce myself to strangers who my friend may have bashed me to. She texted me that I didn’t really care about them, that I’m a retard, and that I won’t have any friends in this world.
It’s all a little too much. Now she’s saying she’s going to take them because I’m just like the guy who feeds cats for her in a rural area. He actually is mentally challenged and has the mentality of a 10 year-old.
I don’t think I deserve this. The cats were fine. She knows I suffer from anxiety so bad that I’m on disability for it, so that if a doctor orders a kidney ultrasound it’s going to really fuck with my head. That the thought of losing my only friend while being scared I’m dying is going to fuck with me even worse. I should be happy that she won’t really mourn me if I am dying, but the thought of dying alone is terrifying to me ( which I’m sure she’s happy I’m thinking of that prospect).
I’d ask God what I did to deserve this, but then I remember the guy who died a horrific death on New Year’s Eve near me. I guess almost anything is better than immolation.