Hiya friends, welcome back. Ugh, I’m angry with myself. Here I am, having to apologize for missing a post, again. Honestly, on Thursday I just couldn’t sit at my computer for any longer than it took to finish my homework, then on Friday I was so busy, I just didn’t have the time to sit – period. I swear, I will finish these next two weeks strong.
Let’s get right into my last two days. Remember the other day, how I said I could just see Asshole sitting there, acting like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth? Yeah, I was fucking right. He came out swinging Thursday morning and was a thorn in my side all hoofin day.
Category Archives: personal
Times like this, it is really difficult to remember that Karma doesn’t need any help. She might come to me for suggestions every now and then, but she’s quite capable of doing her job on her own.
For those of you who ever find themselves in need, I always keep a spare flashlight on hand. It’s yours for the taking.
Hiya friends, welcome back. As I woke up this morning, I knew it was going to have a good day (in regards to the Asshole and Panic). I was right, too. I woke up at a perfect four, and I felt I could take on the world. This feeling happens so few and far between that when it does I fucking revel in it.
I took my happy feeling and got a ton of shit done today. This morning I got up and got a good bit of my homework done. Then I prepped …
So proud! Well, I mean, I’m always proud of her, she’s way more bad ass than she thinks, but I’m even more proud when she actually gets to enjoy her victories.
Hiya friends, welcome back. I have exciting stuff to say today (well, maybe not exciting for you, but for me, it’s hoofing massive). I went shopping. Twice. Once yesterday and once today, BY MYSELF. You probably just read that and made the wtf face at your screen, but seriously, this is a victory for me. A small one, but a victory nonetheless.
Usually, I do not leave the house without my security blanket – otherwise known as Hobbs. (He tends to act as a buffer between me and the world…actually it’s more like he keeps me anchored so I don’t drown in the anxiety or panic.) As we all know, he has been home this week because he’s sick, so he couldn’t very well go to the store with me, could he? Unfortunately, his not being able to go didn’t change the fact that we …
When a pot boils for too long, things tend to spill over… (Also, sorry these are coming all at once. I fell behind and am trying to catch up!)
Hiya friends, welcome back. Sorry that you got two posts so close together, but oh man it’s been an interesting couple of days. So, Hobbs came home sick yesterday, and he ended up staying home from work today too. I also said that, at times, my anxiety extends past me being sick and onto people I love.
Let me explain.
Basically when Hobbs gets sick, I absolutely lose it. I’m pretty sure that the way anxiety works makes no fucking sense. The thought process with this is much like the lemon thought process. For instance, take how today went. Hobbs is home sick. What if it’s worse than what I had? That’ll mess with his blood sugar, which means he could end up in the hospital. People die in hospitals. Great! Oh, …
If it’s not one thing, it’s another! The Biblio deals with the dreaded Man!Cold.
Hiya friends, welcome back. So I just realized that I completely forgot to write a post last night for today…oops. I swear, when I’m finally feeling 100%, this will get back to normal. (I also think, somehow, I got all off track and I’m now writing in real time…interesting development.)
Let’s see, today was pretty good. I actually did some housework, and finished my homework. Hobbs had to work this morning, but last night I knew that wasn’t going to last long when he looked at me and asked, “Did this *gestures in my general vicinity* start out as a scratchy throat?” In that moment, I knew I was about to have a man baby on my hands. He was home by noon, and within fifteen minutes of walking in, was camped on the couch in his sweats.
I tried thinking of what would get me out of the shower before I was ready, and came up with a very short list: HUGE spiders, a snake coming out of the drain, or the shower suddenly going ice cold on me. Even then, if I was in the middle of shaving my legs? Nope. Sorry, Spidey, wait your turn. And Mr. Scales? You can turn your ass back around and go right back where you came from. If you wanted the bath to yourself, you should’ve said something sooner. Ice cold water, I’m standing back and waiting for it to warm back up, but getting out? Not if I can help it.
The only thing that would get me out of the shower, one leg only half done, is a waterbug (or palmetto bug, for your southeast coasters). Those things have the right of way, and I have the get out my way! Ugh.
Hiya friends, welcome back. Well, I’m finally caught up with my class work for this week. It really sucks getting sick, especially when you know you have a shit ton of stuff to do. In related news, I can also report that I am on the mend. I mean, I’m still not feeling amazing, but I’m moving in the right direction at least, so that’s something, right? Oh, and it seems the anxiety and panic have decided to back off a little bit, and that, in itself, is a victory.
All around, it’s been an okay day. I’m currently hovering at a six, but honestly, I can’t really expect anything better right now. This morning was the first morning all week that I didn’t dread the thought of sitting up…so I left the bed and went and sat on the couch. Oh, the excitement. …
The Biblio is on the mend! Now Asshole and Panic just need to sit down and shut up…
Hiya friends, welcome back. Today has been a downright doozy for me, between feeling like absolute shit and dealing with Asshole and a couple panic attacks. If you don’t mind, I’m going to combine yesterday and today into one post. I think this might help me get back on track.
I’ve never been good at being sick. For as long as I can remember, I’ve cried my way through most illnesses. It didn’t really matter if it was something as simple as a cold, I could be found sobb…
Hey, 1. You can’t say I didn’t warn you people about the eye puns, and 2. Just be glad I haven’t decided to be extra rude, and change all of my “I”s into “Eye”s. I am that much of an ass, I am not even going to pretend otherwise. 3. Dammit, I should’ve used this eye pun for the post about my glasses!
I said before that I would eventually talk about the accident that left me functionally blind in one eye, and I even went over in briefly in another post, but those of you who want the full scoop, here you are.
First off, let me explain: I’ve always had a stubborn streak – and, perhaps, even more importantly a contrary one. Tell me to go left, I’ll go right. Tell me to stop, and I’m gonna run right up and over you. It’s a running joke that I am so contrary, I couldn’t even be born on the day the doctor said I would be. I ended up being born two weeks late. Contrary. And it was the contrariness that ultimately caused me to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I was sixteen months old when the accident happened. My sister was fourteen at the time, and my brother was eleven. My father was at work, and my mother had been sick all day, so mom put me to bed, and then went to lay down, herself. My siblings were in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher.
Now, here’s where the contrariness comes into play. My mother put me in my crib, and told me to stay there. Three guesses what I did not do. (I’ll give you a hint: it starts with “stay” and ends with “there.”)
The minute they left the room, I was up and running. Climbed out of the crib, and ran right out of my bedroom, into the kitchen. My brother had just taken a glass mug out of the dishwasher, and seeing that a few drops of water remained inside, he did what any
one of us has probably done in our life times, and tried to shake the water out. He was holding it by the handle, he didn’t swing it wildly, he didn’t smash it against anything, he just gave it one good shake. The cup part of it detached from the handle and shattered…just as I came running around the corner. A piece of the glass cut through the eyelid of my right eye, and went into the eye itself.
My mom was a huge fan of the old show, Rescue 9-1-1. If it was on, the television was on, and the family was watching it. I’m not a fan of television, in general, but I can’t complain too much about mom’s obsession with that show. The last episode the family had watched happened to feature an eye injury, and thanks to this, my sister knew to grab a cup and place it over my eye, while someone else called for an ambulance.
Obviously, I was too young to remember all of this, and I’ve heard conflicting reports. One person told me I was flown from one hospital to another, and another person said that they drove me. From what my sister says, the paramedics who arrived on the scene wasn’t going to take me to the hospital, but one of them changed their mind, and I was originally taken to Franklin Square Hospital. I was then taken to John Hopkins Hospital (not sure whether it was flown or driven), where the doctors worked to save my eye.
When all was said and done, I had stitches on my eyelid and the eye itself. It’s been over thirty years, so my family doesn’t remember how many, but they believe it was at least seven or eight (maybe up to seventeen, total), and I wore an eyepatch for a while. Later, I visited the same doctor who treated me after the initial accident, and I found out that the reason I can’t really see anything on my right side, is because of a “trauma cataract.”
A cataract, for those of you who don’t know, is basically a cloud on the lens of your eye.
You can see it in the image above. The greenish mass that covers the right side of the lens is the cataract. I also have scar tissue, which complicates things a lot. I’ve been told that, even with cataract surgery, I wouldn’t be able to regain complete vision in that eye, and I am okay with that. I’ve lived with my vision the way it is now for as long as I can remember. Honestly, if I had the surgery done, I think I would be worse off because the constant movement where none had been seen before would just drive my brain up the wall. Besides, the glasses I wear now bring what little vision I have in that eye, from 20/80 to 20/30, I believe the doctor said, and that’s more than I’ve ever had. I put on these glasses, and I can actually read the clock from across the room with that eye alone. I’ve never been able to do that before. The only thing these glasses haven’t improved is my peripheral vision. Even if I look completely to my right side, I can’t see the edge part of my glasses. Meanwhile, on my left side, I can be staring straight ahead, and see the full rim and the left arm/leg of the frames.
Another side effect of the accident is a strong light sensitivity. My right pupil is permanently dilated. Have you ever had your eyes dilated? If you’re over 20, chances are, you have (or at least, you should have – eye health is important, folks!). Now, try imagining walking around like that all the time. That’s how it is for my right eye. Bright flashes of light on that side are physically painful. They’re also mentally painful.It’s not all bad though, I have excellent night vision. Unless the room I’m in is pitch black, I can easily read a book in a dark room, while everyone else is stuck stumbling around, trying not to trip over their own feet. Also, because I’m so used to the extra flood of light coming in on that side, if there’s a bright light on my left side, I can pretty much just brush right through it. It’s still annoying, but I can manage. On the downside, does the sun really have to be so flippin’ bright? (Kidding, guys, kidding. I science, I promise.)
What’s interesting about this whole thing, by the way, is how the emotional/mental impact caused the accident overshadows my life far more than the loss of vision. Besides my own slight PTSD over the whole ordeal, my family also has suffered. I don’t speak to my brother much, but from what I’ve been told, he still wrestles with feeling guilty over the accident, even though he did nothing wrong. My sister was the one holding me during the call to 9-1-1 and keeping the cup over my eye, so she had my bloody hand prints all over her. She was also the one who cleaned up all of my blood off the floor and calmed my brother down, who was, of course, freaking out. I tried asking her about it, but she can’t put the feelings into words – and considering she’s a writer as well, that’s saying something. I do know she also has a strong reaction to the sound of breaking glass, and she gets jumpy when children are near things that are out of a person’s direct control (people throwing balls, slamming stuff around, etc.).
My mother…her version of the story completely contradicts what my sister and I both were told by our father, so whether she has it right, or due to the trauma of the accident on top of the very recent (at the time) death of my baby sister, she has gotten it all mixed up, I have no idea. Either way, the whole accident had a massive impact on my family that still affects them today.
I didn’t reblog the last mental health entry from the Biblio because it was just an update letting us know that she’s sick. Last night’s post, however, was an update on the sickness and the effect it can have on her, beyond the physical.
Hiya friends, welcome back. Let’s set the scene, shall we? I am currently laying on the couch, surrounded by tissues, water, cough drops, and inhalers. There is also my homework somewhere under the blankets and pillows. I’ve been alternating between sleeping, watching TV (Rizzoli & Isles, I’m a sucker for crime procedural), working on homework, and reading. To be fair, that list is only happening between bouts of coughing or sneezing.
In the last three days, I have seen two doctors, the first of which…
The ever elusive GOOD day.
Hiya friends, welcome back. I am happy to report that my anxiety/panic was nowhere to be found this morning. Which means I was finally able to get all the stuff done that didn’t while I was busy dealing with the Asshole. Let’s talk about it.
So, I woke up rather chipper this morning – it was definitely a ‘right side of the bed’ start for sure. I was basically waiting for the birds to fly through the window to help me brush my hair. I actually think I whistled as I walked down the stairs. I was at a four and loving life. On four days, things get done, people. Notes get taken to get ahead for next term, kitchens get cleaned, meals get planned and shopping lists are written. I was on a roll today. I even debated cleaning the bathrooms…granted I didn’t but honestly, no one in a good mood chooses to clean toilets.