Scars and more scars

Welp, that doctor's appointment sucked ass.  Apparently I have substantial scarring on my retina from the original tear, the surgery, the bleeding, etc. to significantly degrade my vision.  Plus, I saw photos.  My retina is hideous, and now I have yet another body part to eat away at my self-esteem.  The doc recommended surgery to scrape the scar tissue away.  Yuck and owww.  Now I need to gamble and decide if the gain is worth the (emotional, financial, physical) costs and risk.  I'm getting a second opinion next week.  That should be another barrel of laughs.  Sigh.

The last 24 hours have just been a hat-trick of medical shite: recommended eye surgery, migraine, and more skin cancer.  I'm so sick of all the scars on my body.  And in my psyche.  Not sure which is worse right now.  Can't stop crying, which is definitely not proportional to this news, so I'm thinking it's triggering some old emotional scars.  It feels like every fkn physical scar on my body is in cahoots to make me feel bad about myself today.  And they're working synergistically with every visceral scar to drag me down into darkness.

The eyes have it...

I'm writing this while waiting at my ophthalmologist's office to see if my retinal tear is still fine.  I'm a teensy bit worried.  But I'm starting to have my aggravation level surpass my anxiety.  It's been almost an hour, and I'm still in the first of several waiting rooms.  I thought scheduling two hours for this was plenty of time.  I haven't even had my eyes dilated yet.  And I'm getting crankier as my breakfast wears off. 

I was told by my optometrist that I'm at higher risk now and need to be checked semi-regularly.   I truly hope the aggravation is the worst part.  Deep breaths.  

Also, I hate having a TV on in the background.  My cranky factor is HIGH.  I finally got the drops, and my eyes feel stoned.  Very bizarre feeling.  Numbness drops and dilation drops, which allegedly last 4 hours.  I'm so fucked when I need to look at a bright computer screen for work soon.

There seem to be a hundred retirees ahead of me.  I think I'm the only one still gainfully employed here.  Makes me feel old before my time.  I'm too young to have retinal problems.  And definitely too young to be watching The Price is Right.  Sigh.  All of the commercials are for health problems.  Every.  Single.  One.

I've burned through 20% of my phone battery already.

It sounds like the retirees are about to revolt.  They're planning anarchy next to me because of the long wait.  And they don't even have to go back to work.  I can't wait until I'm a little old lady and can say what I really think with impunity.  I do hope my eyes don't keep aging before their time.  I'd like to see whom I'm speaking the plain truth to.  (Yeah I know I'm not supposed to end on a preposition, but the other way sounded too pretentious.)

 

I've been texting my friend who is in cancer treatment.  We're commiserating, although he definitely has it worse.  Puts mine in perspective. 

It's kind of amusing to hear old people's ringtones and watch how they interact with smartphones, but plenty still keep flip phones.  On their belts.  Random thoughts going through my mind, trying to keep cranky and anxiety at bay.

More later....

the mindfuck is winning

Last month I had such an amazing month.  I had 16 days in a row, migraine-free.  I had barely any pain days at all.  It was a most glorious month.

This week, my calendar reset when I got my monthly clinical trial CGRP shot.  Pain ever since.  It's like last month was just a happy hallucination.  It makes me question if I imagined it or over exaggerated it.  But no, I methodically track migraine days in two places.  It really did happen.  Now the pain washes over me and colors all those beauteous times with dark gray.  Pushes the happy memories further away, as if waking up from a splendiferous dream that's already fading.

I'm trying to hold it together.  To put on a smooth, professional face at work.  To put on a strong affect for friends and family who lean on me.  And to show as few people as possible how much I'm fucking disintegrating inside.  A month of pleasure is almost eradicated by a few days of pain.  But, it's not really just a few days of pain.  It's a lifetime of pain memories fracturing into a few days.

Logically, I know my neurotransmitters, assorted brain chemistry, and hormones are just doing a mindfuck on me.  Emotionally, the mindfuck is winning.

Happy anniversary, Kitten!

A tiny, pitiful, hyena-looking, mewing kitty showed up on my doorstep 9 years ago today.  Of course I shared my sardines with her, and we've been BFFs since.  Pardon the picture quality.  This was before good cameras were so ubiquitous.

For those of you following my squishy tile saga, the plumbers fixed everything yesterday, and my kitchen sink works again.  Yippee!  And the best part is that they weren't creepy fkrs.  They were efficient and friendly (without being sleazy).  Maybe the lesbian shorts helped.

I was texting with my plumber for the past few days, making arrangements for the work to be done, the timing, etc.  It was a test to my patience, because he was not the most responsive texter, sometimes taking hours to answer.  I had to keep reminding myself that he was probably elbows deep in muck and couldn't get to his phone.  This morning, I texted a thank you and an attaboy about his workers.  Mofo replied in 20 seconds.  Subjects matter.  :)

Speaking of plumbers and phones, the ones who fixed my sink were of the younger generation and did not use flashlights.  They used only their smartphones to light their work area.   I wonder if flashlight manufacturers are noticing a decline in sales.

Came across one of my favorite poems

Touch me ...
In secret places no one has reached before,
In silent places where words only interfere,
In sad places where only whispering makes sense.

Touch me ...
In the morning when night still clings,
At midday when confusion crowds upon me,
At twilight as I begin to know who I am,
In the evening when I see you and hear you, best of all.

Touch me ...
Like a child who will never have enough love,
For I am a girl who wants to be lost in your arms,
A woman who has known enough pain to love.

Touch me ...
In crowds when a single look says everything,
In solitude when it's too dark to even look,
In absence when I reach for you through time and miles.

Touch me ...
In winter when darkness comes early and the softness of fur surrounds my face,
In summer when the sun makes me languid and water laps at my feet,
In spring when lovers come alive,
In fall when the woods call to wanderers and dry leaves make the softest pillows.

Touch me ...
When I ask,
When I'm afraid to ask.

Touch me ...
With your lips
Your hands
Your words
Your presence in the room.

Touch me ...
Gently for I am fragile,
Firmly for I am strong,
Often for I am alone.

Touch me ...
With your thoughts that only your smile reveals,
With your heart, your soul, your mind,
Let me know that I am here,
For I was made to be touched by you.

Touch me.

Squishy kitchen tiles

With the assistance of a friend, I figured out the source of the wet, squishy kitchen tiles.  Thankfully, I did not have to start jackhammering up tiles like my dad assumed, although in his defense, he never actually looked at the problem.  (Thanks for the anxiety attack, Pops!)  I had my kitchen sink water turned off all weekend, which is exactly as much fun as it sounds like.  But, the tiles seem to have dried out.  Sweet!

I have a call in to a plumber now and am waiting for a price estimate once he gets to the plumbing supply store.  Because I've used this plumber before, I'm hoping I don't need to go into a convoluted story about how I don't live alone.  The creepy fkn exterminators freaked me the fuck out after they were here.  This whole being single thing sucks at times like that.

I went out to eat more often than usual this weekend (hi2u sushi!) to avoid the lack of a kitchen sink, and tried Pacific Stone Crab for the first time because Florida Stone Crab is out of season.  It was fantastic (although maybe it was more the ambiance and the company which made it so good).  I definitely love Florida Stone Crab more.

And then the migraine came, which ended my 10 day migraine-free streak.  And I immediately questioned any and all recent food choices (new type of stone crab?), activity choices (too much eating out?), etc.  I've been getting pretty spoiled with my migraines getting less and less frequent.  I couldn't even have dreamed of a migraine-free week two years ago.  When one does finally hit now, it seems to hurt more because I wasn't expecting it.  Thankfully, this episode didn't fuck up any plans too badly.  I feel so guilty when I have to ask people to adjust their plans for me, or worse, cancel them.  Mostly, I just put on a fake smile, and grin and bear it.  I'm sure every person who deals with chronic pain knows this feeling.

How often do you change your phone wallpaper?

I recently changed my smartphone wallpaper and am still getting adjusted to it.  Yeah, yeah, first world problems.  (I'd rather focus on my harder to read icons than my wet, squishy kitchen tiles.)  So how often do most people change theirs?  I'd had my previous one for months.  But the whim struck me.  I really loved my old one, not because of sentimental value but rather, it made all of my icons pop out and easy to read.  Plus it was roses.  Who doesn't like flowers?  Assholes, that's who.

In honor of the wendiceratops, I changed mine to a cartoon dinosaur that a friend drew for me.  It's fkn awesome.  I'd show you, but then I don't really know you, do I?  And phone backgrounds are so personal.  So you'll just have to take my word for it.

And Pluto just gave me my new lock screen photo.  /swoon

Someone on Pluto hearts me

Okay, maybe it wasn't meant for me.  Maybe it's an alien love note?  Maybe they don't do messages in bottles, but rather hearts on planets.  Would I rather get flowers or a romantic planet?  Fuck, that's a toughie.  Just kidding, Pluto for the glory!

Best way to eat peanut butter?

On an apple.  Or lacking apples, with a spatula, straight from the jar. 

I can't stop snacking today.  I think it's the new hair gel I used, Kinky-Curly Curling Custard Gel (say that 5 times fast).  Bear with me a minute if that sounds idiotic.  This gel smells fkn scrumptious.  I haven't worn it out in public yet, and now I'm a little concerned how others might react.  Especially when they see me huffing my hair.  :)   But, duuuuude, it smells so good.

I definitely will be using this gel before exercise class.  During the last class, I was down on the mats doing 100 pushups.  At about 30, I couldn't take the smell of feet anymore and had to take a break.  Or at least that was my excuse.  Maybe the hair gel will give me super powers.

Or the incessant snacking could be pre-migraine cravings, but it's such a lovely day on De Nile River, that I won't allow my thoughts to head that way.   I don't like migraine superpowers, like hearing a lizard walking across the outside of my window.  I'd much prefer hair gel superpowers, where everything is glorious and sweet-smelling.

It's almost Pluto Time

I know, I know, I'm a nerd.  But this is really exciting that we're getting so close to Pluto.  In case you aren't as nerdy as I (and have no idea of that which I speak), NASA launched a spaceship (haha I love using that word, even incorrectly) over 9 years ago to do a drive-by of Pluto.  Except no guns.  Or rap music.  Probably.

Anywho, tomorrow, Bastille Day 2015, is the big day.  The closest we have ever been to Pluto, the dwarf-planet.  Fuck you, astronomers, Pluto still counts as a real planet in my heart.

Wendiceratops

How cool is it that there's a Wendy dinosaur who is adorable and badass looking??  Look at the cute little bangs in the back that they call frill.  This sexy beast was discovered by Wendy Sloboda, a renowned fossil hunter, when she was out walking her German shepherds.

Wendiceratops pinhornensis

Cute little bugger

While I was lamenting the heat of summer, this little guy was basking in it.  He let me get fairly close and take a bunch of photos.

 

I'm a rare bird

But who didn't know that already?  I never seem to be able to classify myself into any common definition or type.  When I was a kid, I rarely ever found my name on those specialized name tags for my bike.

More specifically, someone asked me what my Myers Briggs type is.  And I always forget because it changes.  Plus, I'm forgetful.  So I retook the test to see what my latest is.  I'm INFJ, which is only 1-3% of the US population, although no idea how scientific that number is because I'm too lazy to click the documentation in Wiki. 

"empathy can serve as a classic example of the two-edged nature of certain INFJ talents, as it can be strong enough to cause discomfort or pain in negative or stressful situations."  Suffered through that many times.  Strong empathy is both a blessing and a curse.


"self-expression comes more easily to INFJs on paper, as they tend to have strong writing skills. Since in addition they often possess a strong personal charisma, INFJs are generally well-suited to the "inspirational" professions such as teaching (especially in higher education) and religious leadership."  Good to know I might actually be semi-qualified to write a blog.  ;)  And I can have a fallback career as a Cult Leader if I need to.  I love useful tests like this.  I'm still unsure what to do with the knowledge that my inner Disney Princess is either Pocahontas or Snow White.

today is a new day and all that

I gave myself a lecture yesterday to pull myself up by the bootstraps.  That didn't work very well.  Then, I ate some sardines because fish oil can help with mood.  That didn't work either, but at least it was nutritious.  One of my friends must have ESP because she knew something was up, even though my texts said I was fine.  She told me to play some loud music and dance.

Always on the lookout for good advice, I turned my dining room into a nightclub.  I cranked up the tunes, turned down the lights, and moved the table to have ample space for dancing.  And then I danced like no one was watching.  Which I hope they weren't because creepy....

Kitten watched from a distance for a while and then migrated closer and closer, without seeming to move.  By the third song, I was feeling better.  Amazing how well that works.  And how easy it was for me to forget that I love doing that.  I danced until I got sweaty, and then I danced more because it was fun and silly.  And now I'm better.

depression lies to me

it sneaks up, slowly invading my space, my body, my breath, my very soul, without me even being aware.  its insidious tendrils get into my thoughts, telling me that i'm worthless, unlovable, better off away from humanity.  it coaxes all possible negativity my way, makes the tears flow soundlessly down my face.

i had such high hopes for today.  now i'm clinging to rational thought like a drowning man clings to one lonely board in an ocean of nothing but despair.  i want to fix this feeling, make it go away, but i'm unsure how.  I'm too embarrassed to ask for help -- proud, strong me.  how do i even explain when i don't understand either?  who would even care to help such a pitiful mess as i?

just breathe, i tell myself.  get through this. the sun will shine again in my smile.  but will it be soon enough?  how do I coerce myself to laugh again when i feel so bleak?  where did this black hole of gloom come from, but I don't look too deeply inside.  because i don't want to see it any more closely.

Ice cream works in a pinch

A friend of mine recently told me to try ice cream in my coffee when I ran out of cream.  He even said it would work when freezer burn had set in.  I decided to try it this morning, sans freezer burn.  It's actually quite good, although I did leave out the Stevia this morning so it wouldn't be too sweet.

While out in my backyard a few days ago, I found a men's dress watch, still working.  Creepy.  I texted my landscapers to see if one of their crew lost it, but so far nothing.  Creepier.  If I suddenly stop writing here, you'll know I've been murdered by a man (or is that what she wants you to think??) missing a watch.  Sounds like a case for Encyclopedia Brown.

I have BIG plans for my extended holiday weekend.  If the weather cooperates, I plan to read and get some sun.  Otherwise, I plan to read and chill in the AC.  I just finished book three (800+ pages) of the Outlander series and am debating starting book four (1,000+ pages) or taking a break.  They're incredibly good but prodigiously long.  Also, Ernest Cline's new book is coming out soon, and I want to read that, too, and not be caught in the middle of something else.  Because I also have an audible book that I listen to when I'm too tired or in too much pain to read.  So many stories, so little time.

I'd rather get whisked away into a fictional adventure than to turn to what most people call entertainment these days.  The movies are all remakes, with shaky cinematography.  The news is all depressing and perhaps manufactured, unless one puts in the effort to discern the truth.  And that truth is usually even more depressing than the infotainment which is churned out. 

Anyway, enough of that, time to tune into the British Formula One Grand Prix practice session at Silverstone and daydream about my need for speed.

12 days, baby!!!

Normally, my life is like this.

Sometimes, it gets worse like this.

But I woke up this morning to this!!  Sofa king happy!!  I'm aiming for lucky 13.

Natural Born Killer

Kitten has brought home baby iguanas three days in a row.  She really, really wanted to eat inside like a civilized cat and kept crying for me to open up.

I saw two more little ones out back this morning, one swimming in the pool.  I guess Baby Iguana Season is officially here.  I wonder what shoes go with that... 'sif it matters, I'll just wear what I want anyway, or more likely go barefoot.