My (asshole!) doctor wanted to blame the chemicals that I work with. They can cause severe kidney damage. Sure. If I had worked there for fifty years. He then blames the metformin that I have been on for the past four years. Well, he wanted me to take it because it causes weight loss. He also told me there were no horribly wrong side effects. Um, sure. See, I knew better. If I were an everyday person I could have a lawsuit against him at the moment, but as a bio-chemist, I knew the risks of taking the medicine and I still took it. Having my mother tell me that at 173 lbs, losing 30 lbs since Halloween night, made me less of an embarrassment to her. Of course she’s in her 60s and living off me, but I’m the embarrassment because I was a few pounds overweight. Technically for my height I wasn’t even obese, but I stopped eating, got depressed, and here I am. Though my loving doctor and mother want me down to 100 lbs even by summer. I was encouraged that I could do this. Ever see a 100 lb 6′ 1″ person? We don’t look good. We look like we survived the holocaust. We have no energy. Ten years ago I was down to 100 – 90 lbs and I looked like total shit. No tits. No energy. Constant pains. But damn, I wasn’t an embarrassment to my mother, her family, or my doctor. The people whom I should have truly been trying to please weren’t interested in my weight; I’ve always been perfect to them.

I was put on a double transplant list yesterday. Monday I pick up my pager to wait for the news that there is a kidney or lung (yes, those are fucked up too). I’m not sure if this will affect my trip to Sydney, or the trip to Las Vegas in March. I’ve already paid for my tickets and I want to go. My plane to Sydney is supposed to leave on Thursday morning and I return on Sunday the fifth. I had everything planned, from a new camera to a ton of GBs of space to take pictures and video. I even stocked up on spare batteries and a fast charger so I wouldn’t run out of juice on the trip. Then there’s my “artisan” make up because I was supposed to be a part of the filming we’re going to. I can’t get on camera with a dialysis cath in my arm with the bruises to go with it. This all has screwed up my entire pleasure in looking forward to the trip; I haven’t been to Australia for pleasure since 2003. Dennis was also looking forward to seeing DW again. I guess he can do that without me there, though. Nothing would be stopping him. I haven’t told anyone about this, other than posting it here, for people to sympathise with me over it. Let’s have that Pity Party for me!

On a lighter note, I have a couple of family members who are going to take blood tests and such to see if they match and I can get a kidney from them, possibly. I know my cousin BJ got tested. I’m not sure if I truly need my lung(s) replaced. That’s one of the things we’re going to discuss at the doctor’s office Monday afternoon.

Oh, and my TimeCapsule died and went to hell a week ago. I’ve gone through the motions of removing the hard drive in it (and have the pictures to prove it), and now I am waiting on my check to go into my card so I can get a cord for it. I have another TimeCapsule, but I can’t get the computer to recognise it. I hope that wasn’t the error with my older drive. After harvesting that drive, I feel as though I can harvest the drive from my old strawberry iMac, just to get the data off  it. That would be pretty awesome if I could get that drive too. I may update next with pictures of me harvesting my TimeCapsule drive and the iMac drive, if I can get it out. Right now I have to sit at my desk and update, and that’s a bitch. I usually update from my bed while I’m watching TV. Not anymore! Not until I can figure out how to get that TimeCapsule working. Any suggestions? Advice on anything I’ve posted? Email me if you do. Or leave a comment. Whichever is good for you.

Don’t forget to add my feeds:

here, there, and facebook or just plain add me on facebook. I’ll love you forever!

My useless uncle walked up to the mess, and pulled me up, bitching at me for getting out of school late. He pulled me to the car, ignoring the gaping, bleeding hole in my side. Once home, I tried to reach my parents at their work, but I got the same message: “They’re working. They can’t come to the phone.” Oh. Right. Fine. I called 911. I had what appeared to be a smudge of blood on my side. I had been stabbed with a stick or a pen; something pointed and cylinder-shaped. It was a hole, a tiny hole, in my side. Five stitches and a bitching session from my parents when they found out that I was in the hospital and thusly costing them precious money, later, I found out the next day that I was being expelled from the school.

Apparently, I had made a racial slur towards this guy, and that gave him the right to stab me with the closest possible object while two others held me down. In this case, it was a stick, so he hadn’t violated the school’s rules by bringing a weapon to school. He told the principal that I called him a racial slur, and I tripped and fell on the stick. Bullshit. I saw his hand on it. I saw him holding his hand above me before it happened. I fell on nothing but the pavement. Plus, the stick had been stabbed in the opposite side that I had fallen on. Explain that. I with drew from that school. The girlfriend was suspended. Her boyfriend had run away from home. Mr. Violent returned to class the next day to scout out some other victim to harass mercilessly and then stab and threaten to kill them when they fought back, verbally. Probably another fair skinned, blue eyed girl, two years younger than him and suffering from cancer.

This man single-handedly jumpstarted my downward spiral. He caused my insane, schizo mother to put me in those insane holy-roller schools, where I was emotionally tortured and verbally abused for several months. I became fearful of my life. I became suicidal. I wanted to end my life because my existence had been so damned bad for so long that I could feel nothing other than misery. But it wasn’t to end there.

After therapy, drugs, hospitals, and intense love from my husband, I was able to pull out of the mess that was my life for so long. I was able to laugh again. I was softened again. I was able to smile. I was able to enjoy the sunshine. I could smell the beautiful aromas from the flowers again. I could see the rainbows after the storms again. Life was something I wanted to live and experience once more.

Then this afternoon I saw where this man had tried to friend me on Facebook.

His request opened up a whole new world for me. I had some closure, and some new fears.

He moved clear across the country. He was no longer within walking distance of me. He had gone to college. Gotten a Bachelor’s in something. He looks perfectly normal for a lying, psychotic, attempted murderer of white girls. Then I saw the part of his profile that made shivers run down my spine. He has a “wife”. I assume she is his wife, since there are numerous photos of them together kissing, holding hands, and lounging in bed. He also has a daughter. I fear for these women. Does his wife know who she is with? Does she know his past? Probably not, if they have a daughter together. What made me shudder more was wondering if she knew and it didn’t bother her. Many women marry liars, willingly. Many women marry abusers, willingly. But is there a woman out there who marries an attempted murderer? That can’t be normal. What if she says the magic word? What if she says “stupid”? Or the little girl? “Stupid” is a common word for children, and it sets that man off completely.

I hope he’s gotten help, for his new family’s sake. But something tells me that he never got help. It amazes me that he is clean-cut, looks nice, friendly, but I can see something no one else can see. I can see the hatred. I can see it burning in his eyes. He has a lot of hatred in him. It’s sad that I am the only one who can see this.

I didn’t add him as a friend on Facebook, naturally. I’d have to be insane to do that. My phone number and address are available on there, and the last thing I need is him showing up at my door. He’s one of the many people I have forgiven, but not forgotten.

In conclusion, thanks.

As for me, I just got Toast Titanium 11 and Popcorn 3 to play with for a little while. I don’t have any blank discs, but that’s ok. I can still check out both programs. I want to get Roxio’s Easy VHS to DVD and the little adapter for the computer to plug into a VCR, but I think we’re better off to get a new TV first, before I start trying to convert my old tapes. Still, I think I should get the software first. Oh, and I updated my wishlist, in case anyone is feeling generous out there. *bats eyelashes*

The weather has been strange here. It was “cold” yesterday and today. 68 was the high. For August, that’s not bad. It was October weather in the middle of summer. I’m torn between shutting the air conditioner off and turning it on after having a hot flash. The weather has made me restless. My sudden lack of pain has made me energetic. I want to go out and play in the nice weather while I can, but I devoted myself to solving the problems at home, first.

My monkeys have transformed to monsters. They trash the house. Let the dogs out the front door, where there’s no fenced yard. Turn the pet rat loose in the house. Dump food out of the cabinets and ice box. Dump trash out of the cans. Pull the sheets off mommy’s bed. Chloe even unplugged my bed; in both areas, and when I laid down today, water gushed out of the mattress all over me! All of them, except for Hayley, are acting up. No amount of sending them to their rooms or locking things up seem to help. When all else fails, they tear up the carpet and peel the wall paper off the walls. This transformation has come because mommy and daddy are mad at each other and they can feel the tension. They’ve guessed that if mommy and daddy are mad at them, we can’t be mad at each other anymore. It’s brilliant, really. They have outsmarted and out numbered us, and their plan worked. For now. There are deeper issues that have to be surfaced, and those issues aren’t going to be resolved overnight, nor will they be solved in front of the kids. We’re going to talk about this. Not tonight, because I’ve got a migraine starting, but soon.

I joined Digg. Add me?

Overall, the entire bath experience was quite enjoyable. I got to relax and not think about the birthday party in May, and I haven’t touched my narcotics in over 24 hours. That’s not to say that I won’t break down and take more of them between now and then, I just haven’t been tempted. I did indulge in the hypnotics last night because I couldn’t sleep. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to fall asleep before 5am and that really makes me dangerous in the pharm lab. Speaking of Pharm, we’re having our lab final on Friday, and then Professor Buchanan is going to release us to clinicals (internships) in real pharmacies, chemical companies, hospitals, and other places that we’re needed. We’re going to be on our own until the lecture final and then graduation. Then it’s back to the real world. I’m kind of excited and kind of scared at the same time. I don’t have much confidence when I’m working with chemicals, even though I triple check my weights and measurements before I mix anything, and I read over the instructions several times before I even begin lab. It’s just nerve wracking, working with potentially dangerous chemicals all the time.

Tomorrow I’m taking Chloe for her “entrance exams and immunizations” to get into school in the fall. The school has a list about three feet long of things that we have to do, that Chloe has to go through, before she is going to be allowed in. It’s a private school, so their standards are higher than most public schools, but on the list of things she must have accomplished before being accepted is she has to be able to read at a “standard first grade level”. She can read, but to be safe, I ordered some of the text books and workbooks that I used when I was six. I found several of them via Amazon.com, and I’m going to start working with her all of next month. We’ll have a one-to-two hour reading session per day.

Oh, and before I forget….My mother has a FACEBOOK ACCOUNT NOW! OH LORD HELP YOU ALL! YOU HAVE OFFICIALLY BEEN WARNED!. I haven’t added her back yet, but it’s the principle, right?