Changes

Oct. 24th, 2011 05:30 am
perzephone: (mizz zombie)
Sex feels weird now & I smell funny to me.

I was able to enjoy a nice, long, hot bath last night, though. No sex for 6 weeks, no problem. No baths? That's downright cruel & unusual punishment!
perzephone: (foxdance)
I am free once more to pick stuff up, push stuff around, go back to work and fuck. Hooray!

Walked around some Hallowe'en stores this afternoon. I'm whupped. I'm going to take cupcakes to work w/me. I got some seasonal cupcake cups, an assortment of sprinkles & google-eyed toothpicks. I'm going to get some yellow or white cake mix & color it orange, and some devil's food cake mix & make orange & dark chocolate marbled cupcakes :) I frikkin' love Cupcake Wars - it inspires me. The Food Network inspires me, period. I finally made a successful roux last week for home-made clam chowder. The only problem was the portion - I made too much soup & not enough roux, so it only thickened to a certain point. I like my clam chowder super-thick. Night before last, I made another blonde roux for gravy to go w/baked chicken & mashed potatoes. I had the opposite problem - too much roux, not enough stock, so it was sort of a chicken-flavored pudding. Not very appealing, but I mixed it into my mashed potatoes & ate it anyway. It had good flavor. If I had managed to add enough liquid to thin it out, I think I would have ended up w/about a gallon of gravy.

That is all. Other than the fact that I don't really want to go back to work next week :(

Old Habits

Oct. 18th, 2011 03:38 am
perzephone: (cunty day)
I keep expecting my period to start any day now.

My brain has not quite caught up on the news.
perzephone: (eggs)
I'm back to writing and rewriting descriptions for my dragons. I am so pathetic.

I was going to crack down on that CompTIA exam prep guide, get flashcards of the various ports and plugs, memorize RAID definitions...

Yeeeeaaaaahhhh. That's really working out for me.

I think I'm going through a decompression of sorts. I haven't had an honest vacation since I started working for the County, and I've honestly been relaxing for the past few weeks. Yes, the money is getting tight, and I can't stay home forever, much as I'd like to, but I needed this. I actually read an entire fiction book, cover to cover, and I've started a new one. My house is clean, I've been cooking almost every night, eating regularly scheduled meals... my face has cleared up as much as it can, my stomach's healing.

Of course, I would be reading Neal Stephenson. He fucks with my head. Anathem was anti-climactic and the ending puzzles me. It's like there's a missing chapter or something. I guess that's the risk you take when you start living in the polyverse. Your narratives all go to Hell in a handbasket. I started on Reamde as soon as I put Anathem down - I'm hoping it's a little more cyberpunk & a little less theoretical exercises.

Milestones

Oct. 12th, 2011 04:51 pm
perzephone: (il dottore)
Today is the first day I've put on my jeans since the surgery. No more bloat!

Normality

Oct. 7th, 2011 02:56 pm
perzephone: (foxdance)
Ah, non-painful trips to the bathroom, how I have missed you :)

Wishes

Oct. 6th, 2011 12:00 pm
perzephone: (embracing light)
Sometimes wishes do come true.

Today is the first day since my surgery that I can honestly say I feel good.

Nothing hurts.





At least, nothing surgery-related hurts. My eyes are killing me because yesterday I watched about 10 hours of Mythbusters, Auction Wars and Penn & Teller's new show, which is basically Mythbusters, only a sucky version because it's Penn & Teller and not Jamie & Adam. We have a projection wide screen tv that Rob's mom gave us, and that thing kills my eyes, but I couldn't read or mess w/the computer much at all yesterday, and I definitely couldn't embroider, so it was tv zombie day. So now it feels like someone tried to repeatedly pull my eyes out of my head.

We did get another Deadwood from Netflix, so that was also thrown in. I wasn't sure if I'd like Deadwood. I like Westerns, but Western series have been kind of meh for me. The only 'Western' series that I've really enjoyed was The Lone Ranger, and I was 5. It had intelligent horses. I liked the Lonesome Dove books, the mini-series was good... but the actual made-for-tv series was just tedious. I hated most of the characters by about the middle of the first season, so it became one of those things that Rob watched & I barely paid attention to.

Deadwood, though, is good. The story line is relatively simple - it's basically a retelling of the history of Deadwood, S. Dakota; but characters are complex, and there's a good mix of humor, drama and action in every episode. The last couple we've seen revolve around Al Swearengen's kidney/bladder stones, and I am thoroughly sympathetic to that. I even figured out exactly what was wrong with him when his symptoms first appeared. Rob kept saying it was the clap, but I'm like, noooo, he's got a blockage. Swearengen has surprised me - he was set up to be the villain in the first couple of episodes, but he's become a very likable anti-villain. He commands a lot of loyalty from his employees/friends/henchmen, and I've loved to see the relationships develop, especially between Al & Dan. It's not often that you get to see actual male friendships evolve. There is a lot of dick-waving between Al & his rivals, primarily Al and Bullock, but it's respectful dick-waving - and I think they just love to fuck with each other. I know I really should despise Swearengen & the other brothel owner, Cy Tolliver, because they are abusive to the whores, but my brain has willingly suspended judgment on that aspect of their characters.

We've been savoring it, one episode a night with dinner. I know it's another canceled series like Carnivale and I will be soooo pissed off when we get to the last episode.

It looks like today may end up being another rainy day, too :)
perzephone: (il dottore)
I wish my stomach/intestinal issues would resolve themselves.

I felt pretty ok yesterday, had a night of broken sleep - mostly broken by needing to pee every 2 hours (my stomach has shrunk, which means I finally got rid of some of the bloat last night). In an attempt to go back to sleep, I found that I am still able to achieve an orgasm (albeit a non-penetrative one, but still, orgasms are good news). The orgasm didn't help me fall back asleep, & I ended up w/a muzzy hangovery headache by around 4am. Oh, yeah, night sweats, that was awesome. Then the wind picked up this morning & was blowing Chelsie's empty pool around the back yard, making her bark and run to look out the back door. I finally gave up around 8:30am & got up, took a shower, had some Tylenol, coffee & a cherry tart... and went back to bed.

At 1, I got up... and the stomach pain hit. A burning, ferocious pain, not quite in my stomach but more of an upper intestinal thing. It's been kicking my ass all day, and only finally let up about an hour ago.

I can't wait for my first really good day.
perzephone: (userfail)
I've been out of work for 2 weeks now.

Not one phone call. Not one e-mail. No one has noticed that I'm not there.

I suppose in a way that means I've done my job of training and preparation correctly. It's a little depressing, though.

Actually, I take that back. Three separate managers called to make sure I went & got fingerprinted. At the front desk, we're now becoming more involved in the player's club program, so we're now required to have gaming sheriff cards. I've had both the gaming & non-gaming sheriff's cards in the past, the whole process is a pain in the ass, and it's expensive, too. At least the hotel's fronting the initial fee for the card, but any renewals are on us.

It's just weird to have almost absolutely nothing I have to do. Eat when I'm hungry, sleep when I'm tired, sit around & rub my poor mutilated stomach.

As a 'woman of size' (lol), one would think that stretch marks wouldn't bother me. I'm fat, I have them, and the ones I have aren't really that noticeable - being pale has that advantage. I've had 'em on my boobs since they first magically appeared overnight back when I was 11. But huge fucking stretch marks because of gas and bloating seems a little unfair. The gas & bloating will eventually fade, but stretch marks are around forever. They itch, too. My belly button seems to have stopped its Niagara Falls impression, which is a major relief. If I ever have to have laparoscopic surgery again, I'm going to request a no-belly-button approach. My belly-button hasn't ever done anything to me, and I don't think it deserved or appreciated this kind of treatment.

I've felt ok for the past 2 days, other than the huge stomach thing. My stomach, which hasn't ever been this big, has become an intrusive object in my life. It gets in the way of everything. It reaches out & touches everything. It makes it hard to get close to the sink for dish-washing, and trying to cut up peppers for dinner last night was ridiculous. I am constantly aware of my belly. I can't lay flat on my stomach right now, which is to be expected, and I'm not a back-sleeper, but trying to lay on my sides means having to physically move it around. The majority of actual physical pain is pretty much gone, but there's continual pressure in weird places that becomes physically painful. The pressure has my solar plexus over-stimulated, so I've been getting anxious for no real reason, so before I went to sleep last night I just laid there awhile & massaged my tummy and said soothing things to it.

It did feel satisfying to clean out the underwear drawer this morning, though :D

Rob's mom has been driving us nuts. She knows I'm not working right now, which she seems to feel has given her carte blanche to call like, five times a day, starting at about 9am. She was hollering into the answering machine about some yard sale this morning. I was already awake due to a self-induced charlie horse, and I was trying to fall back asleep. I didn't race to the phone or anything, but it ruined any plans I had of drifting into dreamlessland. After the surgery, I pretty much lost my voice, and it's finally starting to come back, and I'm not about to waste it on her. I get these pitch and volume changes that make me sound like a goose when I talk. Just random honking peppered through my conversations.

I visit Joey Comeau's (noted author & of asw fame) from time to time. He reviews horror movies & stuff. There's not much to it right now, but I love it. It's on blogspot, and at the top of the blogspot banner is an arrow for 'Next Blog'. Since I've got time on my hands, I've been exploring, and that Next Blog button is like candy for me. It seems to string blogs together based on a theme. Yesterday, it was a long string of Christian-based blogs. There was a parenting stream, a random photo blog stream, a bunch of horror movie reviewers, which at least kept up w/Joey Comeau's, and a fairly amusing collection of death metal fan blogs... today's selection was pretty random. All these blog streams usually take me into foreign territory - non-English blogs.

Now, I know the world is bigger than America. It's part of why I love the Internet so much. I can't afford to travel, and even if I could I probably wouldn't. I have this thing about safe, hot, running water and little or no inconvenience. Going to another country means encountering strange hygiene practices. There are places where people spit all the time. Other places where people poop in alleys and gutters. Not everywhere has abundant water for hand-washing, and just because they do have water doesn't necessarily mean they bathe with any regularity. Bedbugs and lice are somehow culturally acceptable in some places. Yes, we have dirty smelly unhygienic people in America, but we have the illusion that they don't touch anything clean people touch because for the most part, if you are offensive to the senses, you will be asked to leave. Yes, I know, all the antibacterial craze is basically like believing in Santa Claus & the Easter Bunny, and I avoid most anti-bacterial products unless a product I already use becomes anti-bacterial and I don't want to give that product up (it's kind of funny - Palmolive has a nice orange-scented dish soap that became anti-bacterial. Ajax had an anti-bacterial orange-scented dish soap that became un-anti-bacterial... I buy which ever one the grocery store has on the shelf because I love orange oil...), but just the thought that there is clean water and soap available in any public restroom here (unless you're at a gas station) (or the Double Down Saloon, in which case may the Gods have mercy on your soul) is reassuring to me.

The Internet allows me to take vicarious tours of other countries. Ran across a beautiful photo blog of Sri Lanka. Looks absolutely gorgeous, lush tropical plants, rustic farms, nice architecture, the works. That particular one was in English. Most of the time, I run across blogs & sites in other languages. Suddenly I am disconnected from that person's world. What are those buildings? What are those people doing? Where is that? Some times the actions or places are obvious. A building full of books is probably a library, but it might be a book store. Can't ever really be sure unless the photo shows more detail. People in robes might indicate a religious ceremony - or a play... or it could be how those folks dress 'over there', wherever 'there' is. I can read & comprehend a little Spanish, so I do ok w/Mexican or South American blogs. Usually, if it's a European blog, I can make out what or where it is, but if it's Asian, forget it. Especially when the writing looks like a series of spirals, loops & hooks. Africa definitely challenges the perceptions I have about myself, because, well, if it's not South Africa or Benin... it all looks alike to me. And I don't even connect Morocco or Egypt to the rest of Africa. On the world map in my head, all major African landmarks, cities, wildlife refuges, and everything else that is not Egypt, Morocco, South Africa or Benin - is in Kenya. The Congo? In Kenya. Ivory Coast? In Kenya. Somalia? In Kenya. Victoria Falls? In Kenya. Every single Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom featuring Africa was filmed in Kenya. Benin used to be in Kenya, too, but then I started studying the African Diaspora, so Benin took on its own borders.

The thing about language, though... when a baby is born, it has the potential to speak any language. We can speak multiple languages if we try hard enough. Many countries teach other languages side-by-side with native ones. Here in the US, it's almost the opposite, forcing English on everyone and obliterating others. Other languages are electives in high school & college. Some people definitely have the knack for picking up new languages - my dad spoke about 7 fluently, and understood even more. When I was little, I could speak Spanish, but didn't use it for so long that it faded away. Now that I'm older, I can't relearn it beyond hotel-speak. Of all the different sci-fi technologies out there, the one I've always wanted the most has been things like babel fish and translator microbes. I don't think the entire planet should speak English. So much is lost when a language dies or is destroyed... but it would be a much different planet if growing up with a singular language didn't make it so hard to absorb new ones.
perzephone: (il dottore closeup)
Ok, so I have these pads laying around, which I won't need any more. I can't really donate them to a woman's shelter because it's an open package of hygiene products. Can't really toss 'em at homeless women I see on the streets, because I am not quite that much of an asshole. I could probably get Rob to drive me around town to just randomly pelt them at non-homeless people in general, which would probably be amusing if I was drunk, and even more amusing if I had fake blood & it was Hallowe'en (and I do have insidious plans for that open box of tampons...). But, there are also the ecological considerations in that act - while birds might appreciate the absorbent fibers buried within said pads, I don't know exactly how good material is that can absorb all that blue liquid would be for birds, and I know these things aren't all that biodegradable.

I was going to let bygones be bygones & just throw them away.

In light of my poor insulted belly-button, and the fact that the band-aids and adhesive tape are literally ripping the delicate virgin skin of my stomach off, I sat there & tried to think of a way I could get the pad to stick to my stomach. The sticky tapes on pads goes into the panty crotch, not on the lips (thank the Gods for that small mercy). The sticky side is not the absorbent side, either... so how can I use these otherwise useless things as a kinder, gentler gauze bandage for my skinned belly? That binder had promise, but no matter how I wear it, it just acts like a girdle or tight-laced corset, jamming my intestines up under my rib cage.

Hey, I had an ACE bandage lurking in my medicine cabinet. Pad sticks to bandage, bandage non-adhesively wraps around me, problem solved.

Oh yeah, and the dog's paw balm is so nice on abraded belly skin. Comfrey & arnica ftw.

I am soooo freaking bored right now. Dragon cave was down all day, tried playing some Torchlight, which is an awesome dungeon-crawler... but at level 5, my toon feels very overpowered against her foes. That and all the levels look the same, it's all in the dark and the only time I can actually see an enemy is the brief glow when my weapon-fire hits it and splatters its blood everywhere. But it does have flow, and I'll probably dick around with it some more in the coming month.

I should have worked harder at getting to the library before my surgery. I have nothing to read. I started Neal Stephenson's Anathem, which had been sitting on a shelf & forgotten, but it's a slow starter. No movies are out right now on video - watched Source Code last night, with Jake Gyllenhaal. At the same time it was too short and too long. I feel like freaking Goldilocks right now: "This book is too long, this movie is too short, this game is too dark...", blaaagh.

I just can't move around too well yet. I'm not a tv consumer, but that's about all I have to do right now. Endless marathons of auctions, pawn shops & restaurant rehabs.
perzephone: (il dottore closeup)
I think I'm going to tell my doc that I have buyer's remorse & would like my uterus back.

I had noooo clue about how much trouble the whole post-op process was going to be. Everyone I talked to made it seem easy. Everything I read on-line made it seem easy.

Until, you know, stuff happened to me that was like, "Wtf?!?!" All that stuff so far has been 'completely normal', but no one seems to mention it.

gross stuff under here )

The band-aids bug the dog & she keeps poking me in the belly with her nose, which is not cool. I also seem to be sleeping a lot on her spot on the couch, so this afternoon she stuck one of her bones up under my head. I thought she was just being attentive and snuffling my ears, but she had ulterior motives.

The good thing is that the gas pain is almost completely gone, my intestines seem to be working, and I was hungry for the first time since the surgery today, which meant a variety of light, nutritious health-conscious snacks have been swept aside for doughnuts and pizza.
perzephone: (il dottore closeup)
So they can pull my uterus out of me via two tiny holes that are almost healed, but they cannot solve excruciatingly bad gas pains.

Wtf, 2000 years of modern medicine?!
perzephone: (better living through modern chemistry)
I took all my band-aids off this morning & took a shower, hooray! I was kind of hoping having the hot water pound on me for awhile would help the gas pains, but not so much. The Demerol isn't even touching the gas pain. I'm all for walking it off, but when the pressure builds up behind my diaphragm, I stop being able to take deep breaths & then I panic & find myself standing very still clutching a kitchen counter or the wall or something until the feeling passes. Forget trying to bend over, too. That just seems to push the gas right up into my throat, where it proceeds to make my armpits & boobs hurt. Both my shoulders feel like someone is pushing dull knives into them & then twisting said knives oh-so-slowly.

Normally pain doesn't phase me, but this is some incredibly horrible shit.
perzephone: (il dottore)
Ah well, no teratomas, lol.

It took me all freaking day to pee, which was the go-home criteria. Glad they didn't want me to take a shit because that definitely wasn't happening.

Entubation is terrifying.


I'm going to bed. G'night all!
perzephone: (21 grams)
In my quest for some decent sandalwood oil, I stumbled upon something called Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab.

My house, my purse and I are all very stinky right now. I don't know if it was wise for me to open all 8 of the little teeny bottles of perfume oils in rapid succession of one another. It smells kind of like a bleeding dragon collided with a polecat doused in cinnamon & bathed with Irish Spring soap. And cheesy dog farts, but that didn't come out of a little sample bottle, that came from Chelsie's butt.

Here are my initial impressions:

Port-Au-Prince is heady with cloves, maybe vetiver. Kubla Khan is weirdly spicy & musky, and tantalizing.

Bohun Upas smells like a man. I really wanted to like Bohun Upas because it is a poison tree, possibly the other tree from the Garden of Eden, the one the Bible never talked much about... but nope, smells like a man's leathery sort of cologne. Not bad, but too many people automatically assume I'm a bull dyke as it is.

Malice, Bloodlust, Serpent's Kiss & Fenris Wolf all smell alike to me - all like dragon's blood. Which, don't get me wrong, I lurv me some dragon's blood, but I can't differentiate between any of them beyond 'omfg dragon's blood!!!!!111!!!1!'

Cthulhu smells like Irish Spring and something minty. Not exactly watery or oceany, or anything like what I'd imagine the Horror From Beyond the Stars to smell like. Just Irish Spring & mint. It will probably become an offering to a not-so-Elder God. Hades likes mint.

What's truly amusing is that none of the oils I picked out for my sampler involved sandalwood in any major way. Kubla, Bohun or Port-Au-Prince might have some understory sandalwood. I was hoping for some Black Lace because I wanted to see what, exactly, castoreum smells like. Alas, no Black Lace available in sample size (which are apparently called 'imps'). Their customer service person contacted me & asked if I had a replacement in mind - I just basically told them I was looking for something similar to Black Lace w/bay rum or tobacco flower, and I'm thinking Port-Au-Prince might be the substitute on that. According to the site, P-a-P has sassafras (clove-ish spiciness) and bay rum, so there ya go.

I'm probably going to have to investigate these a little more once the ripe melange of eye-watering funk subsides, which probably means until after I take another shower. I've since added some kind of orangey dish soap to it. Yum.

Went to the cardiologist today, my stress test came back normal. Blood pressure is good, too. So now I'm going to go make myself some chorizo & eggs. Rob's got a colonoscopy tomorrow, so he's on a clear-liquid & Jell-o fast, which means I'm trying to avoid things he likes. I've got chorizo for lunch & an eggplant lurking in the fridge for later. Fried eggplant is teh bomb. I wish the stores here would carry green tomatoes - fried green tomatoes are even bomber.

4 Weeks

Aug. 18th, 2011 09:18 pm
perzephone: (Default)
for your protection )
perzephone: Wednesday Addams as played by Christina Ricci (be afraid)
It's like I have some genetic curse or something. In this particular lifetime, to my knowledge, I have not encountered any gypsies, so I can't have any pissed off enough at me to curse me personally. I'm not a cheap bitch who haggles merchants down to the last cent, nor do I try to cheat people out of money. There is no reason why I personally cannot get ahead of things just once or twice in my life. It's got to be something an ancestor of mine did - and my ancestors were horse-traders and embezzlers. Someone I'm related to may very well have pissed off a whole troupe of gypsies, probably intentionally.

As a result, I don't do overtime.

Any time I make extra money - be it overtime, a holiday gift, the tax return - something catastrophic happens. It's a proven fact in my life, not an exaggeration or an overstatement. Any time we have any money whatsoever stashed away, a huge money-costing event will come along and destroy it. Some people would think the universe was somehow protecting me from financial ruin by making sure I had money when catastrophes happen... but the catastrophe never happens before the financial windfall comes along. No, it waits.

Over the past month, I have been forced to do overtime. A part of me was thinking, well, with my impending hysterectomy, maybe a little OT would be ok. I was paying bills ahead of schedule so the 6 weeks of no work for recovery time wouldn't have such a huge impact. Of course, Rob wanted to stash some fundage away. It was then that I knew something catastrophic would happen.

Last night, as I was trying to go to work, when Rob attempted to start the car, all it did was make a clicky thumpy noise. The lights, radio & A/C came on, so it's not the battery or alternator. From everything I've read so far, it's the starter, the solenoid... or a computer or computer relay somewhere. Fuck! (cha-ching!) Rob called his mother, who came & picked us up & took us on a death-defying ride to my job.

About an hour after I'd been there, Rob calls me because he is bleeding intestinally. He's not in pain, but he's bloating & the blood is fresh. So he calls an ambulance (cha-ching!) & his mom meets them at the hospital. Last night, my relief was off so I couldn't rush out of work - I did my best to get out early, but still. So that was two expensive taxi rides, one for Rob & one for me (cha-ching!). The hospital didn't know why he was bleeding - they couldn't give him fluids because his blood pressure was elevated, but they gave him a CT scan (cha-ching!) that came back inconclusive, other than showing he doesn't have any tears or ruptures. Yay. The last time he had a colonoscopy, 2 or 3 years ago, the dr. found a benign polyp, so it could be another one of those, or his blood pressure may have caused a hemorrhoid to burst, enough to make him bleed enough to panic, but not enough to cause a noticeable hole on the CT scan. So he had to make an appointment w/his regular gastro dr. for another colonoscopy (cha-ching!).

Because Las Vegas is still relatively primitive when it comes to public transportation, we had to rent a car (cha-ching!) so I could get to work for the rest of this weekend.

Now, I'm not begrudging Rob his ambulance ride or CT scan or anything like that, even though it seems that way. Bleeding fresh blood from anywhere unexplainable is a problem, one that can't be overlooked or shoved aside. Even if we didn't have the money, we wouldn't have done anything differently in that situation. We have insurance that will cover about 80% of the hospital bill & CT scan, but that $800 ambulance ride is alllll mine. And Rob's not going to die anytime soon, he didn't have to go under the knife for exploratory surgery or anything like that, he was able to come home this morning. I'm not missing any work (and uh, my attendance has me pretty close to the firing range) this weekend.

It doesn't stop me from being pissed off at the money thing, though.
perzephone: (bad ducky)
It's something I see on the blogs & tweets & statuses of people w/chronic illness. I ran across it today in a cooking blog, but in the context of the post it didn't make sense.

"It's an easy dish, but not one I can make if I run out of spoons". Wtf is up w/that? Can't you just wash your damned spoons?

Because I don't know where it came from & I don't understand it, I finally googled it. "What does it mean when you 'run out of spoons'"?

I ran across The Spoon Theory, by Christine Miserandino. I finally understand the phrase, and her Spoon Theory makes a lot of sense. It's a great way to break down how much a big problem like lupus or fibro affects a person's life. I don't know if I'd ever use that particular phrase, "I've run out of spoons" or "I don't have enough spoons left" because I don't want to have to explain myself every time I say it or use it. But I could probably tell someone, "Look, I am having a no-energy-or-patience day. Don't fuck with me right now". And they might understand enough to not continue poking the bear.

I know that part of my healing process is going to be admitting that sometimes, yes, I am too depressed to do anything. Instead of making excuses for not wanting to go out, not wanting to do anything, not wanting to see people in large groups, maybe even not wanting to go to work, is that I am too depressed. My heart literally isn't in the game, I have no energy, no focus and my frustration levels are too easily agitated to deal with anything beyond staring at the ceiling. I am always telling people that they have to take time to honor their feelings, honor their illness, and honor themselves... but I never allow myself that luxury. I don't have time to honor my emotional state, and what's more, I don't need to honor my emotional state. Because, well, I have no emotional state, I am a robot, and I will go to work no matter how I think I feel.

I don't know if depression could be classified as an 'invisible illness'. I know for me personally, it is. I was a horrible actress in all my high school drama classes. I get stage fright, start stuttering, blow my lines, faint because ooops, I locked my knees, burst out in tears & run off the stage. But in a more improv setting, like work, I am a brilliant performer. No one would know anything was wrong with me. I chat with my coworkers, I bitch at my supervisors, I even occasionally have angry outbursts (like the night before last). In Christine M.'s words, acting at work eats up a lot of my spoons. I have a sit-on-my-ass-and-stare-at-a-computer-for-8-hours-a-night job, but I come home exhausted. I have no energy left for anything. People think I am this wise, centered but slightly dangerous old bear that they can come to when they have a problem. Rob's family doesn't know that anything is 'wrong' with me... I never feel like my depression is serious enough to warrant paying attention to because I get up and go to work, even on days when I feel like there is a ton of thick, gluey, clayey mud on my chest. Rob's probably the only one who sees me with my guard down, and even around him it's not all the way down. Me crunched up bawling in the bathtub with the shower running is me with my guard down, and I only do that when he's not home.

I went to yet another dentist earlier today, one that specializes in people who have dental anxiety... yeah, that went about as well as expected, but they'll give me a 10mg Valium for a cleaning. I don't know if benzos even work on me, but I'll find out on Wednesday. At any rate, after that, to put it in a spoon-like fashion, today I'm about out. I have one very small, tiny rusty spoon left to get to work on. I'm going to have to find more spoons somewhere because tomorrow I've got a therapy appointment and we're seeing Rob's folks to drop off Anton's early Father's Day card & balloons. Which will eat up my spoons for the rest of the week.

Grrrr....

Jun. 9th, 2011 08:50 am
perzephone: (il dottore closeup)
This is news to me, which should be a decent indication that I am not currently a junkie.

Darvocet/Darvon/propoxyphene were apparently removed from the market via a voluntary recall by the manufacturer. There was some correlation (or at least a lawsuit alluding to a correlation) of taking propoxyphene and heart attacks. This drug's been on the market, in one form or another, for over 50 years. Why did they just determine in 2007 this alleged correlation?

My dilemma is that hydrocodone & oxycodone do nothing for me as far as pain goes. In fact, hydrocodone seems to intensify pain. I'm allergic to codeine... and as a result, when it comes to surgery, Darvocet has been the only prescription-level painkiller that's worked on the resulting pain (not to mention the only other one I've taken).

I guess I better hope my hysterectomy doesn't hurt, because it looks like I'll be doing it unaided by chemistry.
perzephone: (21 grams)
Before the end of the summer, hopefully, I'll be getting a full hysterectomy/oophorectomy.

This is the best news I've had since I was 12.

That, and the return of Torchwood in July (although it's on Starz, which means I may end up selling the rest of my soul to Cox Cable), makes today a relatively decent day.

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Rainbow Serpent Woman

August 2014

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