Drunken Blogging

Well of course there have been worse weeks, but this one was quite bad. If there's one thing that gets the better of me it's someone telling me i am wrong when i am right. I'm a child that way. So my chest pains are back, and i had to sit through two doctors telling me that i am imagining the pain and there is nothing wrong with me. It's partly my fault.. I wake up, go to work, hold my meetings, go about my day, walk in to the doctors cabinet, wait, get admitted, tell him my symptoms with a clear straight face, i am factual, i don't whine or scream or hold my chest in agony. So when the x-rays and such come out normal how is he to know that every time i breathe i feel like a piece of glass is cutting through my chest? How is he to know that i need to pause and break between sentences to get my bearings and stop panting? How is he to know that i need to sit down after the effort exerted brushing my hair? If i just say i am in pain and act and talk completely fine, really, how is he to believe me when i say the echo's are wrong?
Then i went to the best doctor in Cairo, and he sat me down, and listened to me, actually listened to me, and after an hour told me that even though everything looks fine, my pains were back because i was sick again. And that was all i needed, someone to tell me i had a right to feel sick, and to give me something for the pain to go away, and things were beginning to look up.
Then a man waved a gun in my face. My first encounter with a gun in real life, in my office. And i saw just how crazy people can get, how logic is not mandatory, how some people really have no sense of right or wrong, how corroded and vain some minds are, how power drunk they get. A gun in my office, the second he took it out of the grip i lost all sense of anything else, i didn't hear the swear words being shouted over my head, i don't know who came out of the office or went in, all i saw was the gun, my eyes completely fixated on it's every movement willing it back into it's grip. Then i spent four hours in the police station, three of which i spent giggling with my friend in a completely out of context way, maybe that was the shock of it.
And then that blew over, and the panic subsided, and i went back to work where everyone had started joking about the gun in the factory incident, and then a girl i had coached and helped get promoted came in and gave me a present, a little silver pendant with my name written in arabic and a flower on top. She hugged me for my belated birthday and made my day sweet again. She had made it herself, she made my heart melt.
It's a good job where you can contain a gun situation and get such a nice present all in one day...
But then the shock wouldn't wear off, so i had to get a drink, and the drink turned into a few too many, and before we knew it the bottle of wine was gone and here we are...
Blogging in drunkenness about the off throwing week.