Archive for January, 2011
I must be pretty bad. In stead of sneaking off to throw up, I’m sneaking off to cry. Measuring out tomorrow’s medicine in this condition is a dangerous idea. Something that must be done, though. I will make it through.
The beginning of the end.
Somethings just weren’t meant to be, and we realised them too late to stop ourselves from doing stupid shit that’s just going to end up costing us a lot of money in the meantime.
Been a while.
Been in and out of the hospital. Heart problems. bleeding problems. Nausea wasn’t the only thing I was suffering from that night.
Threw up several times. Tried to throw up last weekend and didn’t quite make it. My heart is just working at 70%.
MRSA sores are taking over my skin. It’s painful to sit, stand, walk, piss, shit, sleep, be awake. I drain them every night, then bandage them. They never reduce in size or even attempt to go away.
Webhosting isn’t stable. I need a new host. Mine don’t even answer support tickets anymore, and I can’t put EC scripts on WordPress.com hosted sites…
Don’t want to think about tomorrow. Don’t want to dwell on the past. What else is there?
Kid ran away from the school, over a stupid video on YouTube. I was interviewed by the local news. Kid will be returning to the school on Monday, but possibly not in August.
It’s been a rough month.
But I know things could be much worse. They could. I’m trying to smile, trying to find something to smile about. That shining star boldly shimmering through the night. I know things are going to get better. They have to. I just wish they’d hurry up a little.
I opened up a lookbook.nu out of sheer boredom:
Add me or whatever.
I’m going home tomorrow. I just filled out 16 pages of release forms, signed papers, and filled out more and more information. I am lucky. This could have been much more than I feared. Be nice to Matt. He’s been going around doing my drops for the past couple of nights. He’s amazing. But still, be nice to him.
After a 25 hour episode of vomiting, severe stomach pain, sleeplessness, and discomfort, followed by a set of percocets and two hours of fitful sleep after vomiting till blood erupted, mixed with blood, I called my doctor, who instructed me to go to the ED for fluids. He told me last night to vomit; it would make me feel better and I could sleep and heal. So I induce vomiting with a spoon handle, vomited majorly every two hours like clockwork, until 7:07am, when my left arm was a mess of a prickly heat, and I felt pain in my lungs. Pain I thought was caused from emesis in the lungs, because I was in every weird position imaginable when I was throwing up. I wasn’t quite that lucky. Heart attack. At thirty years old. Mild, but still, a heart attack. My heart is only working at 70% now. I have permanently lost 30% of my heart function because I wanted to feel better last night. Or at least that is what I am being lead to believe. The last four messages that I left for the doctor who recommended that I induce vomiting has not returned my calls. I sincerely hope that one cannot have a heart attack from simply vomiting too much in one night. I think I threw up a total of ten times between 10:28pm last night at 7:07am today. The last being in the basin in the bathroom, where I saw the blood and bile. Before I had been vomiting in the dark in the bedroom trash can.
I get to go home Friday, if I’m lucky. No colonoscopy for me, for now, but I’d rather drink a million galleons of MoviPrep than be told I had a heart attack, to get my heart working again. They aren’t sure if my meds caused the attack, or if the vomiting did. I was vomiting so hard last night, it was just awful. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I would drift off into blissful sleep, the stomach pains would return. I’d grab the trash can and throw up. Every two hours until about 4am, then it was every hour until 6:40am, and finally every few minutes until 7:07am. Dennis slept on the second floor. I was making too much noise and shaking the bed. The dog took off and slept in our adjourning bathroom. My back was one mess of prickly heat that matched my arm. The underside of my night shirt was my Kleenex after every episode. I will never eat hotdogs again. The bitter taste of bile is still in my mouth. I didn’t take a bath last night. I reek. The bedroom we share reeks of dead hotdogs, bile, blood, MRSA, and a slew of other nasties. Dennis promised to clean it up while I’m in. I told him to burn that garbage can. It will never smell like anything other than dead hotdogs ever again. I don’t want to spend our last few nights together in a hospital room. At least they are not talking about open-heart surgery anymore. I may get out of this easier than I thought.
Also, I have an off server blog, for when the server this site is on falls down again. And it will happen again.
I’m physically sick of this whole internet scene/thing. I want to just trash everything and say fuck it. If it weren’t for my customers and blog readers, I would. I would just delete all my pages, email accounts, Last FM, FB, MS, Twitter, Flickr, YouTube, everything and never return. But I can’t let this be about me. I don’t care about me. But I care about others. I am scared shitless that I am going to die. I am afraid of death in general. I don’t want to die. When these things happen, that’s all I can think of. This is it, you know?
Sorry about the downtime. People pay for what they get with webhosting, and I pay nothing, so I should expect to get nothing in return. Right?
In other news, I am thinking of canceling and chickening out Thursday. This MRSA has run rampant in me for over a month, and I cannot get well if I’m expected to deplete myself for a routine scan. I can’t do that to myself or my family. I’m sorry if this seems like I’m a coward – we all know I really am – but I have to think of others for once. That and we’re supposed to get snow Wednesday night/Thursday morning, and Dennis can’t drive on dry roads with a 1% chance of clouds, so I’m not too eager to find out how he handles on snow.
I’m awake at this hour with nasty white spots in the back of my throat, on my tonsils, and just generally uncomfortable as can be. I’ve rinsed out my mouth with peroxide-laced Listerine, but the pain is still fresh. I also harvested the spots off. Looks like a bad virus to me. I’ve taken some more tiz, but it’s pretty bad. You know I’m in some bad pain when I wake up from a percocet-induced sleep. I’m going to clean up a bit and try to sleep again. Drain a fresh MRSA sore, and change the bandage on it.
I also found out that I was cheated out of last week’s pay. I know that is going to cause some drama, especially since I am not going in to work this week due to that stupid colonoscopy scan Thursday, but I am hopeful that I can get that all taken care of without too much drama.
When I was cleaning my mouth (can’t even move my throat muscles without extreme pain…WTF), I found one of my bottom incisors is falling apart. I have pieces of tooth all through my mouth. Again, WTF? Why is this shit happening now? Why am I falling apart now? Maybe it’s because I’m not getting the right amount of sleep? I either oversleep or under sleep. There’s never a happy medium with me.
The pain was bad today. I ended up taking four of those percocets. Now I am exhausted. When my fingers actually do cooperate and my brain signals get to my fingers, I can’t even press the keys down on my keyboard to type properly.
Pray for me. I need a miracle.