Just to let everyone know, I’m in a pretty bad mood today, so don’t expect me to tolerate much bullshit. If you act like a fucktard, I’m going to call you out. The pain is bad and I have no tolerance for stupid people or people who pretend to be stupid. So your best bet is to just get out of my way until the drugs kick in. I tripled the dose, so it shouldn’t take long.
I’m waiting on Mark to get here to take me to the Apple store. He was supposed to leave work at 6pm, but he’s late, late, LATE. He’d be late to his own funeral. I shouldn’t say that.
For anyone who didn’t get any frantic text messages from me yesterday/last night, Doc Dan took away my car keys and license because of my head injury and the pink pills I’m taking to keep food down. Other than that, he put me on a hormone therapy because apparently, my lack of internal reproductive organs is messing up chemicals in my brain and neurons, and my other hormones are not ready for the ‘change of life’ hormones.
So what happened to me?
Tuesday night, I went in search of forbidden objects. Mostly my nephew’s things that still make me cry, two years after the fact. I found a plastic bin of his things on the shelf in my closet, and had to stand on a small chair to even pull the bin off the shelf. I lost my balance, fell onto the floor, and while I was sitting there, trying to recover, I was whacked in the head with a 2000+ page, hard-cover organic chemistry text book. It was my text book. WTF. I knew my research was dangerous, but I didn’t know it was that dangerous.
Yesterday, I was dizzy and vomiting. At 10:30 in the morning, I had an appointment with Doc Dan. He was at the Cancer Center all the way across town. Seeing the lumps and bumps on my head, he ordered a CT. The results were injuries. He immediately took my car keys, my driver’s license, and said I had to call for a ride home. We then discussed hormone therapy and my other tests.
I called every single local person in my phone, and at 8:40pm, right when Doc Dan was coming back with my papers to admit me to a hospital for the night, Mark comes walking in, and announced he was my ride. Doc Dan remarked that my ‘husband’ had gained weight, height and 20 years in the past six months. He was kidding. Mark didn’t take it so lightly.
Mark had to practically carry me into my house. I ended up dashing to the bathroom to wash off the cop smell (haha). He offered to stay the night, but I assured him my 73 year old father-in-law was a good enough baby sitter for me. I did beg for a ride to the Apple store today and a ride to the post office tomorrow. He said he’d be here. That was nearly 24 hours ago.
All night long I vomited and took pink pills. Pills that were supposed to stop the sickness, but seemed to make it worse. More than once the dizziness woke me up. Confusion clouded my mind, and I often woke up thinking I was in a hospital room. My husband was gone all night long with his band. He came dragging ass home at 5am, and never noticed that I was sick. I guess this in itself pisses me off more so than the harasser emailing me today. But what do I know? I feel better, if anyone cares.
My husband is out with his band mates right this minute, so here I sit. Alone. Dizzy. And waiting.
And here I am at the after hours clinic. I have been bounced from blood lab to xray to lab and back again. Chest xrays, more blood drawn, and my blood sugar was below 50. Not to mention the good doctor sent me to a vacant lot for after hours care before I ame here.
See you all in the morning?
It was a dreary day today. The perfect way to end April. I remember the ride to school was a long one, despite it being just down the road. I sat through class in a partial daze. Time has gone by so quickly. Time has drudged by these past few weeks. I just want it to be over. It rained last night. The tiny gray pools of reflective water littered the ground as the gray clouds loomed overhead. The sun didn’t have a chance to peek out.
Amongst all of that, I was standing outside the school, waiting for my ride, when I was approached by a construction worker. He was part of the team of workers who are building the medical school up. He tapped me on the shoulder, then briskly brushed my bare arm, scratching me. I pulled out my ear buds and asked why he did that. “You had wasps on your arm,” he replied, and pointed to the ground where he had stomped the deadly bugs. I thanked him, making sure to tell him that he saved my life, since I was allergic to them.
On the ride home, I searched my messenger bag for my Epi Pen. It was nowhere to be found in the mess that is my school bag. I shrugged, thinking that it was at home in my purse. I never thought of taking it, especially since the honey bees and wasps don’t attack me until the winter months. I hadn’t seen all that many out recently. Getting home, I searched my purse, and the Epi Pen was not there. I searched my desk, my dresser, nothing. I then got a good idea where it might be, or have been, and I asked my husband where he had put the bag of things from my car when he cleaned it out. He told me, and I searched through that. No Epi Pen. Damn. When my car was junked, they must have taken off with my Epi Pen in the back seat. No problem. I called my doctor.
The receptionist at the Doctor’s Office put me on hold and he actually came to the phone. He questioned me why I needed a new Epi Pen–he’d just renewed mine in February. I told him that I had lost mine in my car accident. “Oh. Well I can see your records here, and it says that you still owe us six-thousand dollars in back pay for medical services.” “So? We’ve been paying you a thousand a week,” I replied. “So I can’t write you that prescription.” “It’s not a controlled substance! What am I going to do if I get stung?” “Are you going to pay us today?” “I can’t! I don’t have any money!” “Then I suggest that you not go anywhere where you can get stung.” *click*
He hung up on me.
My doctor hung up on me and refused to write me a prescription for something that I need because I still owe him $6000 for “medical services”. WTF?! Isn’t this some kind of abuse?
Since I know the one or two of you who still visit this site might have a small interest in my car accident repairs, I feel obligated to update about my health status (I’m kidding about feeling obligated and the 1-2 people who still visit here. My stats say otherwise, so COMMENT AND SAY HI ALREADY! I KNOW YOU’RE THERE!!). I have a blood clot in my abdomen. It’s a direct result from the impact of the accident. I can feel it if I am laying down on my back and pressing down on my stomach. It’s hard and teeny, but there. I’m going to see the surgeon Monday, so no worrying about me, ok? I just felt that I should update and let everyone know I have a blood clot in my abdomen region. Also, if the surgeon thought it was bad, he’d have me in the hospital already and I’d be in surgery or on clot busters. I’m not. So let that be a clue that I’m not going to die. Yet. Probably not of this. Maybe soon. Definitely sooner than later if I keep riding with my crazy husband on those back roads where he tries to turn in front of people who have the right-of-way. But no worrying about me, ok? No crying. No mourning. I’m still here. Things are bright from this side of the monitor and I feel better than I have in what I dare say is years, so smile for me! I insist!
Sipping iced tea and groovin’ on my pain meds. :~}
Apparently, if you have a scar, you don’t bruise there. Scars are about 80% as strong as flesh that has never been torn into the deep tissues. The scar on my navel is still numb, and it’s 16 years old this June. It didn’t bruise with the surrounding tissue. I knew this from text books, but I had never saw it in real life before. Most of the patients I dealt with were psych patients, and while they had scars from cutting, none of the scars were as deep as a piercing scar and they weren’t bruised over their scars.
It’s interesting that it didn’t change colour, nevertheless. Normally, the scar is a shade of purple darker than the surrounding tissue. But not lately!
For anyone worried, I am going to make an appointment to see Doc Dan (he sent me fifty Beatles songs! Woot! He must have read my Twitter complaint) tomorrow. I also have to take my lab exam tomorrow (I was supposed to take it Friday) or get an F for the lab final exam, and that would cause me not to pass my class that I have worked so hard to pass this semester. Think warm thoughts! I sure need them!