The Joyous Melancholy of Pin Nippleati

Post CXXV

Here’s the story of important bits, constant screaming, and a duvet.

After a rude awakening in a fit of screaming, the last thing I was expecting was to flip out of bed and find my forehead impaled on a pin. I didn’t get much sleep that night. I kept having nightmares about alternate eventualities of the events. One such alternate universe saw the pin removed and a rush of blood pouring out, which led to yet more screaming. I had a very screamy week. My cries were uncontrollable. I couldn’t shut myself up. In an unusual turn of events, I was reminded of tarantism, the urge to overcome melancholy by dancing. My ‘Walking on Sunshine’ dance, very ‘80s, whilst screaming, at four in the morn, with a pin sticking out of my head and a small trickle of blood running down my nose, could be described by some as looking like a ritual to summon the devil.

I bought a new duvet this week. My old one was a few years old now and had turned a delightfully unsavoury shade of mint green, coupled with holes and vomit stains from when I was a wee lad. I was a very sick child. I often vomited so much that I lost my voice and couldn’t call for help, severely weakened and unable to move. So I just used to sleep in my own contents. It soaked through. Basically, that stain was indelible. After a good 37 years of service, it’s time was done. Flat as the morals of a harlot, it was. It’s all I have ever known. The new one is a considerable change. It’s like a waterbed. Very springy. The type where when you lie in it, you sink. This sounds lovely, until you turn over onto your side, your head buried a few inches below the surrounding duvet, and suffocate. I suppose suffocation from duvet is better than death by blood loss from a pinprick.

I also lost a pin this week. I’m always loosing pins. My bedroom has a huge rug across it. The pins often land upwards in the rug. It’s like a bed of nails. Turns out, my missing pin was next to my bed, pointy side up. Well then, nothing could possibly go wrong, could it?

I liked my ‘waterbed’ duvet so much I slept on top of it. It’s so bouncy it moves around quite a lot. One minute you’re on the right side, and the next you’re on the left. One minute, you’re sound asleep and the next, you wake up screaming, causing you to jump practically into the air, landing back down on the bouncy duvet and back into the air. And so forth. Until one rolls off the edge and straight onto an upwards pin. Thank heavens it didn’t penetrate the important bits. Like the nipples.

I’m probably one of the few people alive who can claim to have accidentally ended up with several pins, at various moments in my life, stuck in my forehead region. Although this latest incident is certainly the first one I can actually explain.

I didn’t need the blood loss. I have low blood sugar, I need my blood. I suppose we all need blood, but I need lots of blood. I like blood. But I’m not a vampire, so don’t worry. I don’t think that lifestyle would suit me, anyway. Being a male vampire, I’d be expected to seduce women for a night of pleasure and death. I doubt I could achieve that. Women don’t like me when I talk to them. You’d probably need to substitute ‘pleasure’ and ‘death’ for ‘restraining’ and ‘order’.

The bleeding did eventually stop. I tried desperately to push the blood back in but damn gravity got in the way.

I’m sure you’re expecting the screaming to be either something macho or something sensitive and sweat. It was an ailment. It was a mouth ulcer. Now, I know what you’re saying. “Oh jeez, what a pansy you are”. Hey, it hurts. Constantly. I can’t do anything. It’s on my lip and the pain is immense. It’s caused my lip to droop and drool to drop out of my mouth. I can hardly talk. I look like I’ve had a stroke.

What’s the biggest inconvenience, Ally? Why readers, thank you for asking. I can’t talk, but I never talk. I have nothing to say and most people don’t like me very much, so they often avoid talking to me. Mainly because they know that I don’t know how to react to social situations. I just stare blankly and wait for them to go away. Or I might just nod until I fall into a coma. And the problem isn’t that I can’t kiss, because I haven’t been kissed in 23 years and I seriously cannot see that changing any time soon. No, my biggest problem is thus. I simply cannot eat anything without being in the utmost agony.

I’ve lost weight, and I’m no heavy stone as it stands. I’m being woken up in the middle of the night because I’m in so much pain. And I can’t use the Bonjela soothing cream because it tastes delicious and I end up licking most of it off my ulcer. I just have to suffer. For a hellish unknowable amount of time.

Yes, you may be thinking that this isn’t important. It isn’t the biggest problem in the world. Yes, I fully accept that. But this is a personal problem and it affects me directly. This is my biggest problem at the moment. My lip is numb. I’ve lost all feeling in my lower lip apart from pain. Probably why it’s so droopy. And yes, I could go to the doctors but I hate the doctors and I never go for anything. So instead, I’m just complaining aloud. To you.

I’ve accepted my fate.

For the foreseeable future, I shalt be laying on my comfy duvet, looking up at my blank white ceiling, face practically paralyzed, drooling like a baby on Christmas Day.

It’s the way of all things, readers.

American writer, Jarod Kintz (b. 1982), once said: “I have a problem. I wouldn’t say I’m in a pickle. More like a vinegarized cucumber”.

Peace Out :|:


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4 thoughts on “The Joyous Melancholy of Pin Nippleati

  1. night owl

    I had an awful lot of nails-on-chalkboard feelings while reading this. Why did you not tell us why you have so many pins spread about? Do you sew? Quilt?

    Now, you once told me to stop being so dramatic, or be happy, or some immeasurably good advice that I’m just now getting around to following. Here’s mine now, so that you’ll follow it nine months from now:
    Go to the doctor!
    You have universal health care, for Pete’s sake! We Americans can’t even get a working healthcare internet.

    I’ll never be able to kiss you if you don’t get that ulcer taken care of. Truly.

    Reply
    1. theindeliblelifeofme Post author

      I think the Pin Fairy is trying to kill me by leaving all the pins. But I didn’t want to put that in the post because people may think I’m crazy. Sorry, crazier…

      Mother is a seamstress. There are pins everywhere. Even in the bathroom. No idea how. I keep one bedside in case of pin related emergencies.

      Did I tell you to stop being so dramatic? I have an awful memory. Although I have had a pin in my brain recently.

      Our healthcare is expensive, however ‘universal’. Yeah, you can go to the docs but you still have to pay for the medication in one’s prescriptions. And it’s ridiculously expensive. Only children get away with not paying anything. We have walk-in clinics and they aren’t allowed to give out prescriptions but they advise you on supermarket medications that will do the same job but at half the price. Our system is as screwed as yours.

      And dentists aren’t free. Except for children. No, very expensive, a lot of people don’t bother. And optician costs are astronomical. And yes, hospitals are free, you don’t pay for anything at all, but the waiting times are one of the worst on Earth and our hospitals are severely understaffed.

      The NHS is as about as broke as the Obamacare website.

      In any case, since I wrote this a week ago my ulcer has got a lot better and I think it’ll be completely gone in a few days. Hardly any pain at all. But I would not go to a doctor and pay what, $20 for a tube of cream less than ONE fluid ounce? No chance. Better to suffer, really.

      At least it’s gone.

      *puckers lips*

      Reply
      1. night owl

        No, you didn’t tell me to stop being dramatic, not really. You told me to learn to be happy in myself, which I am learning. I’m more than halfway there, I think.

        I guess your NHS is not much better of an answer than our … whatever it is we have. I think that, as long as we have mega-corporations shoving empty calories, drugs, and alcohol down our figurative throats, with the resultant health complications, there is no easy solution.

        It’s been a long time since I kissed anyone. I’m a bit rusty. I hope you won’t mind.

      2. theindeliblelifeofme Post author

        Very true. One’s own happiness is the key to a good life.

        It is true about the big corporations, although I suppose we are lucky here to have many or an equivalent medication available cheaper in our supermarkets, most of which actually have a pharmacy. You can also go to a pharmacy here and ask the head pharmacist what medication you should take or if you should go to a doctor, which is nice. One particular pharmacy here has nurses who deal with trivial things to free up the doctors to deal with real major issues. Little things you feel you shouldn’t trouble your doctor with. All free. I would’ve classed my ulcer as ‘doctor worthy’. It’s still a fractured system, though.

        I like rusty women. Hang on, that came out wrong…

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