I’ve gotten a couple of emails lately asking me where I’ve been and how I’m doing.  If you sent me one, I’m replying, I promise.  I’m just really slow and lazy these days.  I blame Prince Vicodin.

A quick update… I’m still not able to walk.  My leg simply can’t hold the weight up yet.  I return to the doctor on the 23rd and hopefully he’ll clear me to start using weights so I can get the muscles back into shape.  I’m still pretty swollen at the top of my thigh, but closer to the knee and calf is now uber skinny.  I would not have minded losing a few pounds, but several pounds of much needed muscle is totes not cool.

I have been able to get out on occasion, but leaving the house requires massive planning and coordination.  There’s the one crutch/two crutch game to get down the stairs - one going down the steps inside and getting to the door, two on the landing, one going down the outside steps, and two once I hit the sidewalk.  Then there’s the wheelchair game - can it fit into the car?  Is the person taking me strong enough to lift it up and get it back out?  Did the leg things get knocked out of alignment again?  And, inevitably, there’s the “oh hell, I forgot my painkillers” moment as I realize I’ve been gone longer than I thought I would be.

All in all, it beats the hell out of sitting in the house talking to Teddy and trying to keep Enzo from eating him.  And seriously, there is only so much television I can handle.  Especially daytime television.  I now remember why I hardly ever had that thing on.  My brain, it hurts!

Hello my friends… Just a quick update for those of you who come here looking for news about me.

In the wee hours of Saturday morning I was in a bit of an accident and have been in the hospital ever since. I will be posting a minimum of two blogs regarding some less than stellar experiences I’ve had since my arrival in hell.  And, naturally, I’ll post at least one or two poking fun at myself.  In the meantime, you can find me posting daily updates about the gourmet meals I’m being served over at Facebook.

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So yesterday I went to the neurologist and got all wired up for a 48 hour EEG. I have several electrodes covered in gauze and glued (yes, GLUED) to my head. The electrodes all connect to wires that go into a backpack I’m forced to tote around.

Here’s a picture I took drew:

Okay, so I’m not an artist… sue me

For the curious, basically they are looking to see if the big fat white spot in the below image is mucking up my brain:

Click to embiggen

Srsly? You have to ask if a cyst the size of a golfball might be mucking up the brains its displacing? Ooookay then.

*mumble*mumble*

I know I neglect this little blog, and my friends on here, and for that I do apologize. I’ve had quite a lot going on in my little corner of the world. My last blog was rather vague in what I was dealing with, but at the time I was still in a state of shock after a conversation with my doctor. Now that I’ve gotten used to what is going on, I’ve come to somewhat accept it and have turned to making random jokes about it. I presume that most of the people who read this know what’s going on, but just in case, here we go…

Read the rest of this entry »

Uproarious humor at the doctor’s office today:

I am to cut the following out of my diet: caffeine, peppermint, fatty foods, and alcohol.

*ahem*

I am not a nice person without my morning coffee. Anyone who has ever spent more than a few minutes with me in the morning knows this. Do not get between me and the coffee pot, I can and will bite.

Peppermint? Are you kidding me? Taking away my Altoids? Noooooooooo… That’s an afternoon ritual before getting on the road to go home. A handful of Altoids to nibble on.

Fatty foods, eh, this isn’t a big deal. K, wait, does that include nuts? Oh hell no. French fries I can live without. Peanuts? Pistachios? No no no.

Alcohol? Hang on, I have an answer for that. *middle finger*

This here aging thing and I are not getting off to a good start.

The invader I referred to isn’t actually an invader.  It’s a bacteria that everyone already has, even you.  It resides quite happily in your digestive tract and does quite a service for you.

However, in my case, it’s moved around a bit and has decided to go make itself at home in some other systems, where it does not belong.

I can’t take the antibiotics prescribed for me, they make me so incredibly sick that I can’t cope.  It’s simply too much for me.  What’s the point of gagging down a horse pill only to throw it up within a mere 20 minutes or so?

Yeah, that’s what I thought.  Pointless.

I called the doctor this morning and left 8 million messages that I need something new.  And then, because I simply couldn’t sit there home alone anymore, I came into the office.

Where colds and runny noses seem to be around every corner.  Which, normally?  Who cares, right?  Sharing colds is what we do.

Except that I have a somewhat weakened respiratory system.  That whole emphysema thing that I tend to ignore.  And this particular little bug playing pinochle in my body right now?

I can’t even fucking type it.

Fuck this noise, somebody stop the planet.  I want to get off.

My doctor?  I hate her.

Okay, maybe not really her.  My body?  That I hate.  Passionately.

Today’s lovely bit of news from the doctor was so upsetting to me that I took that afternoon off and have been hiding in my bedroom for the last three hours.  Three hours of a seriously over-active imagination, I’m sure.  However, when your doctor tells you to Leave Work Right This Minute And Go Pick Up Your Medication, it’s probably not good.

*blah*

Yes, I am being extremely pessimistic right now.  I’ll return to bouncy later.  Right now I just feel like curling up in a ball and crying for days.  But that’s not an option, is it?  Smile, gag down the pills, and try to pretend that you aren’t really alone.  That’s the only option.

I’ll be over here in a hole for the next few days trying to kill some new freakish invader in my body.

So, I went to the girly doctor yesterday. And lord knows how much I just -love- laying on that cold table with my feet in stirrups while a stranger inspects my delicate bits.

*cough*

Oh, yeah, there are guys reading this. Sorry fellas.

Moving on…

She decreed that not only did I need to get the annual boobie inspection taken care of, but she’d also like to have a vampire suck some blood out of me for various tests.

Can I just state for the record that I absolutely hate having blood drawn? I used to donate blood (until I lost too much weight and got all anemic like, bah) and would always be the one sitting there with tears streaming down her face the entire time because it hurts so damn much. But I did it, as often as they would let me. I have craptacular veins kids, the kind that do a little dance and try to avoid being poked. I usually end up with glorious bruising to boot.

So when she informed me that I needed all this blood work done, naturally I gave her a good dose of the hairy eyeball. And silently wished her uterus would fall out. But being a very polite person, I merely smiled and said, “Okay, great!”

So after fasting, and skipping my morning coffee (!!!!!!!) I trudged my happy ass over to the vampire’s lair. A very nice gentleman brought me in the back and reviewed the orders from the doctor. He studied both arms very carefully and finally agreed with me that, yes, the left arm is the better one to poke. I told him that I was a lousy stick and that I would try not to cry, but no guarantees.

He handed me some gauze and said, “Here, for the tears,” with a snarky smile on his face. He was actually rather amusing. And seemed somewhat bemused at my fear of needles.

“Okay, this is going to hurt, don’t move!”

I waited. And waited. And finally looked down at my arm. The needle was in and I never felt a thing. Never felt a thing. That is a first in 40 years of being poked and prodded.

God bless that man, I think I’m in love.

Yours truly, being of unsound mind most of the time, completely forgot that today was the day of her wellness screening at the office. Okay, so no big deal, right?

*blah*

I was supposed to begin fasting at 10:00 last night and have nothing but water until after the screening. Whoopsie. Guinness last night, a cup of coffee this morning. No food, but yeah, that Guinness.

So now I’m sitting here, contemplating whether I should just say screw it and go get another cup of coffee before I bleed out of my eyeballs or if I should hold out until 10:00 when it’s time for my screening.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I weren’t living on about three hours of sleep *wah*

So I was bored this morning and said, “You know what would be fun? Let’s visit the doctor again! That’s always a blast!” My iPod battery was dead, so I sat around trying to catch up with work email. The excitement, it bounds.

Bah.

Issue number one: If you work in a doctor’s office, perhaps you should be among the more enlightened people who know that coughing and constantly wiping snot on your sleeve is a good reason to stay the fuck home. If I get your nasty germs, bitch, I’m raiding your house on Christmas Eve and taking all your kids K-Mart toys.

Issue number two: I’m not here to socialize. I want to leave my “samples”, talk to my doctor, and get the hell out. Thanks for complimenting my pants, I told you where you could find them, now stop staring at me and get back to work!

Issue number three: Can you get an “occupied” marker for the potty room? I’d like to leave said samples in peace. Have you any idea how hard it is to pee in that little cup without getting it on the outside when someone is banging on the door?

Issue number four: Dear Doctor, when your patient has an unresolved issue, perhaps mentioning the various forms of cancer that can cause her symptoms is a little premature. Especially after you freaked her out just a few weeks ago by telling her she had a killer bacteria running wild in her system. Perhaps, just perhaps, you could learn to curb that sort of discussion until you have test results in hand.

Kthnxbai!