What you have taken for granted can just as easily be revoked as that which you demand. Beware your self righteousness. I have been tolerant, even submissive. You are the fortunate one. I am absolutely a catch. Trusting, honest, admiring but your worthiness flags at every negative proclamation.
I am sexy, intoxicating, exciting, spontaneous and you're a passive, procrastinating ass that I have granted more power than you are wothy of. Your childish inability to admit when you are wrong, your measures to take steps to finalize what you see as your divine right must come to an end.
The bitch is back!
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Bad Bad Brain
I'm having a bad day inside my head.
It started with me wondering what exactly he's said to his family about our "problems". He claims only to have told his parents that we are having some but with no details. Now mind you his mom and sister have never really liked me. The mother because I would not agree with everything she said and I'm not Polish. The sister because for the first 2 years she believed I had broken up her brother's marriage. There are many other minute issues I'll not delve into.
I keep telling myself what they think doesn't matter only what he wants really amounts to anything and that regardless of what he deems worthy to tell them is his perogative because they are his support system and he is entitled to their support, understanding and advice. It's the advice I really worry about since they don't like me I expect them to encourage him to leave me. Plus I may have to attend another family function soon and fear for my comfort level not knowing what they know.
This moved me into thoughts of what he really thinks and what is he really saying when I am not there to defend myself. Which of course brought me to thoughts of self-depreciation. Damn it I thought I was through with this awful feeling.
When I tell him how I feel now he says only that that's how I feel and he can't change my feelings. He doesn't even bother to rebuke that which he disagrees with because he says I will believe only what I want to - which in fairness is probably true.
He's not home yet and I keep repeating to myself,"Wait and see what his mood is like. Have a good day." This is not working. God how I hate this uncertainty I create. I used to be so alive, so happy, so clueless. I never worried about this shit before. Why can't I believe in myself?
It started with me wondering what exactly he's said to his family about our "problems". He claims only to have told his parents that we are having some but with no details. Now mind you his mom and sister have never really liked me. The mother because I would not agree with everything she said and I'm not Polish. The sister because for the first 2 years she believed I had broken up her brother's marriage. There are many other minute issues I'll not delve into.
I keep telling myself what they think doesn't matter only what he wants really amounts to anything and that regardless of what he deems worthy to tell them is his perogative because they are his support system and he is entitled to their support, understanding and advice. It's the advice I really worry about since they don't like me I expect them to encourage him to leave me. Plus I may have to attend another family function soon and fear for my comfort level not knowing what they know.
This moved me into thoughts of what he really thinks and what is he really saying when I am not there to defend myself. Which of course brought me to thoughts of self-depreciation. Damn it I thought I was through with this awful feeling.
When I tell him how I feel now he says only that that's how I feel and he can't change my feelings. He doesn't even bother to rebuke that which he disagrees with because he says I will believe only what I want to - which in fairness is probably true.
He's not home yet and I keep repeating to myself,"Wait and see what his mood is like. Have a good day." This is not working. God how I hate this uncertainty I create. I used to be so alive, so happy, so clueless. I never worried about this shit before. Why can't I believe in myself?
Saturday, November 14, 2009
And Then . . .
I've tried 3 times to start this post and I simply don't know where to begin and I'm sort of afraid if I type it I'll jinx it so let's start with the worst move to the sad and I'll try to get us around to the better.
The worst is I'm still sexually deprived.
Here's the sad . . .
A week or so ago Farjef (co-worker) and I had been kidding around at work about my being deprived and now that he was single he could service me. This ABSOLUTELY was a joke because Farjef is most assuredly afraid Dash will rip his arms off and beat him to death with the bloody ends AND he's a might young for me. Besides we really don't think of each other that way but we play.
Any-old-way on his way past me he grabs my bum! I was shocked of course. The reason wasn't what you'd expect. It was because it had been so long since anyone had handled that part of my anatomy. I froze because the feeling had become alien to me. I'd noticed previous to this when Farjef and I would hug hello that it felt a little to nice, not in a sexual way just a human connection kind of way.
And then . . . 2 days ago McG (MGR) got a spot of good work related news grabbed both my shoulders and started bouncing up and down for joy. Again I was visited by this deer in headlights fright at being touched and I froze.
I've also noticed something else in my responses to touch, one night as we were getting ready for bed Dash laid across me to give me a hug, I kissed his neck and noticed how warm his skin was and underneath my lips I could feel his pulse.
These kind of things I never really paid much attention to that I now revel in, the heat of the human body, the quickening of another pulse and the electricity when bodies meet is strange to me. The freezing when anyone gets close to me I've experienced only one time before . . .
When my husband died everyone wanted to hug and touch me and I didn't want any thing to do with it. In my mind the one person who had the right to touch me was dead and I didn't want anyone not even my parents to take what was his.
I hadn't realized until McG grabbed me that since Dash wasn't touching me that I was making sure that I was not in close enough proximity to anyone for them to touch me. I do recall pushing off a few well meant hugs of condolence for when I'm sad but I wasn't aware the extent to which I've been making my isolation.
I don't think many people realize how much being touched and touching of others is necessary for mental well being what's sad is I am now painfully aware of it.
The better runs slowly but it is moving in a good direction. One night after another failed attempt at intercourse I was sitting alone sulking, smoking and wracking my brain about what else I could do to fix this.
Dash's check list of what he wants from me goes like this:
Stop expecting him to fail. Check, now I'm just disappointed when he does.
Stop being suspicious. Check, can't stop him if he's going to do something wrong - control issue managed.
Stop the BS. Check, when something not good is said or done I think about why it bothered me so much and why it should matter and the bomb in my head is defused.
Trust him. Hmmm. Well I trust him not to cheat on me. I trust him to tell me the truth. But what's this - I don't trust him to love me.
And then I thought about why he should/would. Haven't really been acting like me - moping, sad and deflated all the time. Well what the hell am I proud of myself for - so I started a weekly check what have I done that I am proud of.
I went to bed thinking all this stuff and woke up to the feeling as though the bad everyday was over. At first I was suspicious of my optimism been here done that got disappointed over and over and over but then I noticed it in him. He has begun to tell me about his weekends away, how his day was at work and asking me about mine without prompting. This is WAY new.
As well as he's reaching out to hold my hand instead of me going to him. Watching shows with the whole family for like 2 days in a row. He called my cell the other day to keep me informed and then came by the store (something he hasn't done for about 2 months) not once but twice. He's smiling more and joking a little.
Please, please don't let this be a jinx. It feels more normal like one day I just woke up and it was over. It isn't what it was yet and it may never be the same again. I can live with that - the only constant is change, maybe it'll just be different - in the best sort of way. I has pretty much despaired of us ever getting through this but I always believed it had the potential to be good again. I simply wasn't sure if we'd be able to tap into that potential with all that's happened, there was pain and bitterness - justified on both sides - that either of us might not have been able to forgive.
I can see a light now, however small and that means it isn't hopeless. As I've said before HOPE is all I NEED. I can deal with disappointment but without HOPE there's no point. And YES I love him even when it's sometimes hard to remember or feel. I will ALWAYS love him, I have loved him since I was 16 - once upon a dream.
And that is why WE are both still here. I'm not saying it isn't hard sometimes and I sort of wish more people would talk about the hard part and how they got through it and what really happened but even I couldn't bring myself to tell the details because you know what people will say and you convince yourself that it's different and unfortunately more often than not it isn't different and you should have done what others advised but sometimes it really isn't like anyone else's experiences.
Dash and I have always had a special dynamic and it works out that, that makes all the difference. We aren't typical or standard and that works for us. Now if I could only remember that.
The worst is I'm still sexually deprived.
Here's the sad . . .
A week or so ago Farjef (co-worker) and I had been kidding around at work about my being deprived and now that he was single he could service me. This ABSOLUTELY was a joke because Farjef is most assuredly afraid Dash will rip his arms off and beat him to death with the bloody ends AND he's a might young for me. Besides we really don't think of each other that way but we play.
Any-old-way on his way past me he grabs my bum! I was shocked of course. The reason wasn't what you'd expect. It was because it had been so long since anyone had handled that part of my anatomy. I froze because the feeling had become alien to me. I'd noticed previous to this when Farjef and I would hug hello that it felt a little to nice, not in a sexual way just a human connection kind of way.
And then . . . 2 days ago McG (MGR) got a spot of good work related news grabbed both my shoulders and started bouncing up and down for joy. Again I was visited by this deer in headlights fright at being touched and I froze.
I've also noticed something else in my responses to touch, one night as we were getting ready for bed Dash laid across me to give me a hug, I kissed his neck and noticed how warm his skin was and underneath my lips I could feel his pulse.
These kind of things I never really paid much attention to that I now revel in, the heat of the human body, the quickening of another pulse and the electricity when bodies meet is strange to me. The freezing when anyone gets close to me I've experienced only one time before . . .
When my husband died everyone wanted to hug and touch me and I didn't want any thing to do with it. In my mind the one person who had the right to touch me was dead and I didn't want anyone not even my parents to take what was his.
I hadn't realized until McG grabbed me that since Dash wasn't touching me that I was making sure that I was not in close enough proximity to anyone for them to touch me. I do recall pushing off a few well meant hugs of condolence for when I'm sad but I wasn't aware the extent to which I've been making my isolation.
I don't think many people realize how much being touched and touching of others is necessary for mental well being what's sad is I am now painfully aware of it.
The better runs slowly but it is moving in a good direction. One night after another failed attempt at intercourse I was sitting alone sulking, smoking and wracking my brain about what else I could do to fix this.
Dash's check list of what he wants from me goes like this:
Stop expecting him to fail. Check, now I'm just disappointed when he does.
Stop being suspicious. Check, can't stop him if he's going to do something wrong - control issue managed.
Stop the BS. Check, when something not good is said or done I think about why it bothered me so much and why it should matter and the bomb in my head is defused.
Trust him. Hmmm. Well I trust him not to cheat on me. I trust him to tell me the truth. But what's this - I don't trust him to love me.
And then I thought about why he should/would. Haven't really been acting like me - moping, sad and deflated all the time. Well what the hell am I proud of myself for - so I started a weekly check what have I done that I am proud of.
I went to bed thinking all this stuff and woke up to the feeling as though the bad everyday was over. At first I was suspicious of my optimism been here done that got disappointed over and over and over but then I noticed it in him. He has begun to tell me about his weekends away, how his day was at work and asking me about mine without prompting. This is WAY new.
As well as he's reaching out to hold my hand instead of me going to him. Watching shows with the whole family for like 2 days in a row. He called my cell the other day to keep me informed and then came by the store (something he hasn't done for about 2 months) not once but twice. He's smiling more and joking a little.
Please, please don't let this be a jinx. It feels more normal like one day I just woke up and it was over. It isn't what it was yet and it may never be the same again. I can live with that - the only constant is change, maybe it'll just be different - in the best sort of way. I has pretty much despaired of us ever getting through this but I always believed it had the potential to be good again. I simply wasn't sure if we'd be able to tap into that potential with all that's happened, there was pain and bitterness - justified on both sides - that either of us might not have been able to forgive.
I can see a light now, however small and that means it isn't hopeless. As I've said before HOPE is all I NEED. I can deal with disappointment but without HOPE there's no point. And YES I love him even when it's sometimes hard to remember or feel. I will ALWAYS love him, I have loved him since I was 16 - once upon a dream.
And that is why WE are both still here. I'm not saying it isn't hard sometimes and I sort of wish more people would talk about the hard part and how they got through it and what really happened but even I couldn't bring myself to tell the details because you know what people will say and you convince yourself that it's different and unfortunately more often than not it isn't different and you should have done what others advised but sometimes it really isn't like anyone else's experiences.
Dash and I have always had a special dynamic and it works out that, that makes all the difference. We aren't typical or standard and that works for us. Now if I could only remember that.
Friday, November 6, 2009
No Hope
I haven't told him I loved him in 5 days. He said it on Wednesday but I honestly don't think he even notices I haven't. There were no kisses or hugs yesterday either which I am sure he attributes to his being sick and my not wanting to catch it.
After last night I'm not even sure I do love him anymore. I have been making efforts to make positive changes in my attitude, exercise, diet and job. I have even made it so far as to be mildly happy.
While I am trying to convince him he needs to stay home, go see a doctor and get better- which he is refusing saying all the Doctor will do is send him home tell him to rest and drink plenty of fluids plus time off means he isn't making money. I decided to reinforce that a Doctor can write him a prescription for antibiotics and that I may have a new job in the offing - he starts telling me not to get my hopes up over this possible opportunity and how he's heard the same lines before.
He says he doesn't want me to get my hopes up because I might be disappointed. I asked what was wrong with hope, he says nothing I just don't want you to get hurt. If there is no hope why would anyone do anything?
Night before last he was counseling a friend to never get married again because and I quote,"(Friend's name) you have even worse luck with women than I do."
I was taken aback, sort of felt like I should be offended and decided I was used to him saying thoughtless things that hurt me and didn't care enough to let it bother me. He says he was talking about his ex but it did give me a shock to realize he won't ever want to marry me and why. Then he'd be attached to another dead weight bad luck girl.
I bought a balance ball yesterday to help with my workouts as I am completely into it, this time I will succeed! Not because he wants it but because I am determined to be who I want to inside and out regardless of what others think. Up to this point he's been telling me he doesn't understand why I prefer to spend money going out to eat instead of on things that I want that will help me be prettier and feel better about myself. I asked if that was what he really wanted? He said "YES"!
However upon seeing the balance ball the first thing he says is,"Where are you going to keep that?" I was inwardly seething because his tone sounded like "why the hell did you waste money on that thing - that will never be used and is worthless" when asked he said he gave it 2 days before the cats popped it.
Really beginning to think I need to remove any and all negative influences in my life and it seems like anymore that's all he is. So why in the hell can't I tell him to leave? I mean I actually started to believe that I was all the reason for my sadness but it turns out Dash-zilla is the one tromping all my hopes and beliefs of positive possibilities into the ground and I am letting him. I've spent this entire day deflated and have plans to be anywhere that is else when he gets home.
What more can he do to me that he hasn't already done, I'm so heart-broken. He's betrayed me and apologized. He's demoralized me and makes plausible excuses. He's made our relationship into an asexual platonic wreck. Hell he even used to be my best friend but if you asked him right now what was going on in my life he wouldn't have the first clue because he doesn't ask and I don't want to tell him for fear of getting kicked in the teeth for finding some solace in hope.
After last night I'm not even sure I do love him anymore. I have been making efforts to make positive changes in my attitude, exercise, diet and job. I have even made it so far as to be mildly happy.
While I am trying to convince him he needs to stay home, go see a doctor and get better- which he is refusing saying all the Doctor will do is send him home tell him to rest and drink plenty of fluids plus time off means he isn't making money. I decided to reinforce that a Doctor can write him a prescription for antibiotics and that I may have a new job in the offing - he starts telling me not to get my hopes up over this possible opportunity and how he's heard the same lines before.
He says he doesn't want me to get my hopes up because I might be disappointed. I asked what was wrong with hope, he says nothing I just don't want you to get hurt. If there is no hope why would anyone do anything?
Night before last he was counseling a friend to never get married again because and I quote,"(Friend's name) you have even worse luck with women than I do."
I was taken aback, sort of felt like I should be offended and decided I was used to him saying thoughtless things that hurt me and didn't care enough to let it bother me. He says he was talking about his ex but it did give me a shock to realize he won't ever want to marry me and why. Then he'd be attached to another dead weight bad luck girl.
I bought a balance ball yesterday to help with my workouts as I am completely into it, this time I will succeed! Not because he wants it but because I am determined to be who I want to inside and out regardless of what others think. Up to this point he's been telling me he doesn't understand why I prefer to spend money going out to eat instead of on things that I want that will help me be prettier and feel better about myself. I asked if that was what he really wanted? He said "YES"!
However upon seeing the balance ball the first thing he says is,"Where are you going to keep that?" I was inwardly seething because his tone sounded like "why the hell did you waste money on that thing - that will never be used and is worthless" when asked he said he gave it 2 days before the cats popped it.
Really beginning to think I need to remove any and all negative influences in my life and it seems like anymore that's all he is. So why in the hell can't I tell him to leave? I mean I actually started to believe that I was all the reason for my sadness but it turns out Dash-zilla is the one tromping all my hopes and beliefs of positive possibilities into the ground and I am letting him. I've spent this entire day deflated and have plans to be anywhere that is else when he gets home.
What more can he do to me that he hasn't already done, I'm so heart-broken. He's betrayed me and apologized. He's demoralized me and makes plausible excuses. He's made our relationship into an asexual platonic wreck. Hell he even used to be my best friend but if you asked him right now what was going on in my life he wouldn't have the first clue because he doesn't ask and I don't want to tell him for fear of getting kicked in the teeth for finding some solace in hope.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Rejection Hell
Aug. 6th was the last time Dash and I have been intimate. Granted we weren’t supposed to be having relations due to my medical issues then but 6 weeks after surgery was Oct. 7th. I further allow that by Oct 7th our relationship problems were only just coming back from the land of “way out of control”. I also realize timing for my monthly visit and his subsequent illness kept us both from having the will or ability to follow through on any such activities.
I understand that he’s been sick, tired, and hurt his hands (got into a fight with a television – the tube is stronger than it looks). I accept that between financial, work and relationship stress (now when I say relationship stress I mean almost to the breaking point stress) that communion between the sexes wasn’t under the ideal conditions.
I agree that physically I could use some work. When I think about what I like about my body there isn’t much I would personally find enticing. This is hard for me to admit because I am rather ashamed of what follows but the list of things I would like to change includes:
Losing 26 pounds – smaller butt, flatter abs. (over the last month I’ve averaged 4 workouts a week, lost ½ inch on my bum and 2 lbs.)
Clearing up my acne. (costs money which is a slippery slope right now)
Addressing my athelete’s foot. (currently on 12 weeks of medication)
Gaining control of the chest break-outs.
Smoothing the skin on my legs. (exfoliating 3x a week and using lotion)
And eventually as a reward for losing the weight I would like to have a breast lift. That said the only thing he has admitted he would like is the weight loss and acne. With a guy smile and a wicked grin he has also said the breast lift wouldn’t hurt his feelings, most men wouldn’t mind a bit more in that area so it’s typical.
Having typed all of that out definitely shows that I really can’t blame him and yes I was absolutely honest with my feelings. However . . .
Last night as we were getting comfortable to sleep I rolled over to cuddle with the merest thought that maybe my being close could start something but not with any real intent, he giggled and told me a story about the monster under the bed, I joked right back and he left me an opening to try for at least oral. Of course his ticklishness and his removing my hand from his member put that to a grinding halt.
I rolled away and went to sleep. I can’t help that his rejection hurts EVERY single time it happens and since I am the one who always initiates I can’t help that it makes me feel inadequate in some way.
Admittedly our relationship is strengthening, and has only really felt anywhere close to normal for the last 2 weeks. For me though that connection to strengthen the romantic bond between us is not only wanted but bordering on necessary.
Knowing I can't blame him because it isn't his fault doesn't make me feel any better. I guess some part of me believes that if you REALLY love someone that the outside doesn't matter and you can and are still intimate with the person you proclaim to love because that feeling overwhelms you and manifests into something physical and beautiful between you.
A little voice inside my head that sounds amazingly like Dash just said,"I'm not ruled by my emotions."
"Okay," says I,"but can't they at least be strong enough to move you to passion?"
Only silence remains . . .
I understand that he’s been sick, tired, and hurt his hands (got into a fight with a television – the tube is stronger than it looks). I accept that between financial, work and relationship stress (now when I say relationship stress I mean almost to the breaking point stress) that communion between the sexes wasn’t under the ideal conditions.
I agree that physically I could use some work. When I think about what I like about my body there isn’t much I would personally find enticing. This is hard for me to admit because I am rather ashamed of what follows but the list of things I would like to change includes:
Losing 26 pounds – smaller butt, flatter abs. (over the last month I’ve averaged 4 workouts a week, lost ½ inch on my bum and 2 lbs.)
Clearing up my acne. (costs money which is a slippery slope right now)
Addressing my athelete’s foot. (currently on 12 weeks of medication)
Gaining control of the chest break-outs.
Smoothing the skin on my legs. (exfoliating 3x a week and using lotion)
And eventually as a reward for losing the weight I would like to have a breast lift. That said the only thing he has admitted he would like is the weight loss and acne. With a guy smile and a wicked grin he has also said the breast lift wouldn’t hurt his feelings, most men wouldn’t mind a bit more in that area so it’s typical.
Having typed all of that out definitely shows that I really can’t blame him and yes I was absolutely honest with my feelings. However . . .
Last night as we were getting comfortable to sleep I rolled over to cuddle with the merest thought that maybe my being close could start something but not with any real intent, he giggled and told me a story about the monster under the bed, I joked right back and he left me an opening to try for at least oral. Of course his ticklishness and his removing my hand from his member put that to a grinding halt.
I rolled away and went to sleep. I can’t help that his rejection hurts EVERY single time it happens and since I am the one who always initiates I can’t help that it makes me feel inadequate in some way.
Admittedly our relationship is strengthening, and has only really felt anywhere close to normal for the last 2 weeks. For me though that connection to strengthen the romantic bond between us is not only wanted but bordering on necessary.
Knowing I can't blame him because it isn't his fault doesn't make me feel any better. I guess some part of me believes that if you REALLY love someone that the outside doesn't matter and you can and are still intimate with the person you proclaim to love because that feeling overwhelms you and manifests into something physical and beautiful between you.
A little voice inside my head that sounds amazingly like Dash just said,"I'm not ruled by my emotions."
"Okay," says I,"but can't they at least be strong enough to move you to passion?"
Only silence remains . . .
Monday, November 2, 2009
Father Kelly
I dreamed of Father Kelly last night. His kiss was sweet as honeysuckle nectar, his breath was consuming. The two of us wrapped under the midnight stars as he worshiped my very essence.
I'm going to hell because I want him just as much in reality!
Friday, October 23, 2009
There has come a point in each day for the last 5 that I could not look upon the shambles and emptiness that is our lives and smile. I have become my father hiding in the whiskey, crying alone in a dark corner music playing to mask the sound.
He is happy I can see it on his face, eyes alight with a (singular) moment of normalcy and completely oblivious to my loneliness. I'm screaming on the inside while he rips the very soul from my body and he doesn't have a clue.
It's what he's calling "bullshit" and what I know to be my feelings. I have them I voice them or cry and it's "bullshit". So now I hide how I feel, I don't tell him a thing and cry in the darkness that is slowly darkening what remains of hope.
I fear by the time he gets his own head sorted out it'll be to late and I'll have extracted myself from the situation so far I can't come back. I found myself the other day not thinking of him at all and when I did it didn't have the feel of a boyfriend.
And what an absurd notion at 35 - having a boyfriend is for high schoolers - I'm just not marriage material I guess, to damaged, to much baggage. Who knows, his reasons go "no one keeps their vows these days" - thank you for the vote of confidence - and then he back pedals to "not that you wouldn't" I suppose that means he won't because it isn't supposed to be about anyone but the 2 of us.
Oh and to this I am sure I would hear "You think to much." Better than not thinking at all!!!
It's been 2 1/2 months since we had any kind of intimacy, but I have to give credit he's got 1 point on the "I love you" column to my none today but we're kiss for kiss at the moment and as for cuddling I'm one up. Suppose there's something wrong with my having a score board but that's the point right now - I have to!!!
He is happy I can see it on his face, eyes alight with a (singular) moment of normalcy and completely oblivious to my loneliness. I'm screaming on the inside while he rips the very soul from my body and he doesn't have a clue.
It's what he's calling "bullshit" and what I know to be my feelings. I have them I voice them or cry and it's "bullshit". So now I hide how I feel, I don't tell him a thing and cry in the darkness that is slowly darkening what remains of hope.
I fear by the time he gets his own head sorted out it'll be to late and I'll have extracted myself from the situation so far I can't come back. I found myself the other day not thinking of him at all and when I did it didn't have the feel of a boyfriend.
And what an absurd notion at 35 - having a boyfriend is for high schoolers - I'm just not marriage material I guess, to damaged, to much baggage. Who knows, his reasons go "no one keeps their vows these days" - thank you for the vote of confidence - and then he back pedals to "not that you wouldn't" I suppose that means he won't because it isn't supposed to be about anyone but the 2 of us.
Oh and to this I am sure I would hear "You think to much." Better than not thinking at all!!!
It's been 2 1/2 months since we had any kind of intimacy, but I have to give credit he's got 1 point on the "I love you" column to my none today but we're kiss for kiss at the moment and as for cuddling I'm one up. Suppose there's something wrong with my having a score board but that's the point right now - I have to!!!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Lost
I had everything I ever wanted. The man of my dreams walked righted out of those lonely nights right into my arms. He loved me and I him. We were happy the envy of all who knew us.
And I let my own insecurities infiltrate my heart because I didn't believe I deserved him, didn't believe I could ever be good enough.
Now my whole world is a nightmare. I'm surrounded by the memories of what we once had, it rips me in two. He's still here, says he still loves me, still wants me but I can feel time slipping away with every pulse.
Nothing feels real. For brief moments it almost feels normal and then I am left with what I have wrought. I'm so lost. I don't know how to get that magic back. I can't fix it. I wish I could.
And I let my own insecurities infiltrate my heart because I didn't believe I deserved him, didn't believe I could ever be good enough.
Now my whole world is a nightmare. I'm surrounded by the memories of what we once had, it rips me in two. He's still here, says he still loves me, still wants me but I can feel time slipping away with every pulse.
Nothing feels real. For brief moments it almost feels normal and then I am left with what I have wrought. I'm so lost. I don't know how to get that magic back. I can't fix it. I wish I could.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Problems Adnosium
The good news is the pathology report on the Ovarian Cyst they removed along with the NORMAL fallopian tube is negative for Cancer.
The bad news is the Endometriosis has left extensive scarring causing my bowel to attach to the back of my uterus. The Doctor saw it in her finite wisdom to close me up and wait instead of consulting Dash (with my signed authorization for medical decisions) with the probability that they may have to do a full hysterectomy in the future if said scarring should prove problematic.
Not only that but she couldn't have cut a straight line if her (or mine for that matter) life depended on it. Fortunately half of the scar will be hidden behind hair as she decided to do a vertical incision instead of a bikini line cut.
The staples were removed on Sept. 2nd and Steri-strips placed over it. By the 12th they had fallen off and the morning of the 13th I was covered in puss so off to the ER we go. The top suture had become abscessed and gotten a minor infection, easily rectified with antibiotics only to have that area decide to over-heal which warranted a trip to her office on the 22nd whereupon she slathered it in sulfur and stated that my over-achieving body should see signs of shrinkage in that area. Seriously this thing looked like a 3rd nipple.
How the hell am I supposed to be even remotely attractive with a "J" carved in my pelvic region and a 3rd nipple poking out?
But here we are 4 weeks after surgery and I have been pain free for 5 days now.
Congruent to the above there is another pickle. My employers were supposed to have filed the Medical Report + Leave of Absence forms to the powers that be in order to produce a Record of Employment thereby enabling me to apply for Employment Insurance (55% of your net income over the last 6 months). This was misdirected by the Manager while the Area Manager was on vaction for 2 weeks and is still not here.
The financial hardship this has caused created a situation where I was forced to choose between groceries or electricity bill, borrow against my next paycheck and overextend my overdraft protection. I am not supposed to be returning to work for another 2 weeks but have no other choice than to return to work - as well as seek a second job in order to repay what they FUCKED up!
And to add icing to the cake from hell - without getting into details because I simply cannot relive that story one more fucking time - Dash and I have had some problems, it was a near thing but we've decided to move past it and work on it.
This latter is why I am writing today. While he is good at suppressing conflict and moving past it I try to fix it. The problem itself has been resolved but has left some troubling effects in it's wake. The approach I have chosen is one of positivity as Dash has a tendency towards his astrological sign to withdraw into his crab shell when injured. Besides the fact there are only so many times I can say the same thing before we decide to give up <- more me than him ~ more him than me -> or it is simply considered bitching.
Before I begin with the whoa-is-me bullshit I would like to acknowledge the fact that he has made efforts, HUGE ones most probably from his point-of-view and while they are appreciated it is NOT nearly enough to satisfy. It also needs stated that I understand his work stress, insomnia, back pain and money related issues play an enormous part in this.
Having said that I still cannot reconcile what I know with what I feel.
Be fair warned I have decided that I MUST say the things I feel even if only to empty space if I don't release the negativity we will surely fail. Unable to communicate these feelings to him I have no choice (since he is deeply aggrieved by the idea of me telling anyone else our personal business - thus the lack of detail - sorry) but to place my heart here.
Actions speak louder than words!
I long for you to pause a moment, hug me, look into my eyes and caress my face.
Translation: I am beautiful and you want to bask in the sunlight of my presence.
While it was wonderful that you came to check on me because I was crying it would have been better when you asked what was wrong and I said it didn't matter if you had sat down beside me held me in your arms and just let me cry into the strength of your embrace instead of walking away.
Translation: You are here for me even when you don't know what's wrong and you love me even when I'm an emotional basket case.
When I give you a compliment even though you think I am insane or completely wrong you deflect by returning the favor.
Translation: You're honored that though you don't agree that you deserve such praise that I think such wonderful things about you and I am one of the best things that has happened to you.
Kiss me Good morning and Goodnight.
Translation: I am precious to you. You want me to be the first thing you see/touch when you wake up and before you go to sleep at night.
In the heart on the tongue!
Say it first, say it loud, say it proud - "I love you!"
Translation: You mean it! You feel it! You're not just parroting it back to me out of habit.
One word answers need not apply. When asked a question please elaborate don't' answer a question with a question. Responses should include - the facts of the matter, how it makes you feel, and your opinion.
Translation: One word answers give the impression that you are being bothered by my need to converse, question for question = evasive and I don't want to guess what you feel - I don't know or I wouldn't ask.
If I do something you like, say thank you or acknowledge the behavior positively. I.E. Tell me I look nice (even if you think I did it for some other reason than you.)
Translation: You noticed me!
I want to know that you miss me, I want to feel wanted and I need your affection, attention and love!
The bad news is the Endometriosis has left extensive scarring causing my bowel to attach to the back of my uterus. The Doctor saw it in her finite wisdom to close me up and wait instead of consulting Dash (with my signed authorization for medical decisions) with the probability that they may have to do a full hysterectomy in the future if said scarring should prove problematic.
Not only that but she couldn't have cut a straight line if her (or mine for that matter) life depended on it. Fortunately half of the scar will be hidden behind hair as she decided to do a vertical incision instead of a bikini line cut.
The staples were removed on Sept. 2nd and Steri-strips placed over it. By the 12th they had fallen off and the morning of the 13th I was covered in puss so off to the ER we go. The top suture had become abscessed and gotten a minor infection, easily rectified with antibiotics only to have that area decide to over-heal which warranted a trip to her office on the 22nd whereupon she slathered it in sulfur and stated that my over-achieving body should see signs of shrinkage in that area. Seriously this thing looked like a 3rd nipple.
How the hell am I supposed to be even remotely attractive with a "J" carved in my pelvic region and a 3rd nipple poking out?
But here we are 4 weeks after surgery and I have been pain free for 5 days now.
Congruent to the above there is another pickle. My employers were supposed to have filed the Medical Report + Leave of Absence forms to the powers that be in order to produce a Record of Employment thereby enabling me to apply for Employment Insurance (55% of your net income over the last 6 months). This was misdirected by the Manager while the Area Manager was on vaction for 2 weeks and is still not here.
The financial hardship this has caused created a situation where I was forced to choose between groceries or electricity bill, borrow against my next paycheck and overextend my overdraft protection. I am not supposed to be returning to work for another 2 weeks but have no other choice than to return to work - as well as seek a second job in order to repay what they FUCKED up!
And to add icing to the cake from hell - without getting into details because I simply cannot relive that story one more fucking time - Dash and I have had some problems, it was a near thing but we've decided to move past it and work on it.
This latter is why I am writing today. While he is good at suppressing conflict and moving past it I try to fix it. The problem itself has been resolved but has left some troubling effects in it's wake. The approach I have chosen is one of positivity as Dash has a tendency towards his astrological sign to withdraw into his crab shell when injured. Besides the fact there are only so many times I can say the same thing before we decide to give up <- more me than him ~ more him than me -> or it is simply considered bitching.
Before I begin with the whoa-is-me bullshit I would like to acknowledge the fact that he has made efforts, HUGE ones most probably from his point-of-view and while they are appreciated it is NOT nearly enough to satisfy. It also needs stated that I understand his work stress, insomnia, back pain and money related issues play an enormous part in this.
Having said that I still cannot reconcile what I know with what I feel.
Be fair warned I have decided that I MUST say the things I feel even if only to empty space if I don't release the negativity we will surely fail. Unable to communicate these feelings to him I have no choice (since he is deeply aggrieved by the idea of me telling anyone else our personal business - thus the lack of detail - sorry) but to place my heart here.
Actions speak louder than words!
I long for you to pause a moment, hug me, look into my eyes and caress my face.
Translation: I am beautiful and you want to bask in the sunlight of my presence.
While it was wonderful that you came to check on me because I was crying it would have been better when you asked what was wrong and I said it didn't matter if you had sat down beside me held me in your arms and just let me cry into the strength of your embrace instead of walking away.
Translation: You are here for me even when you don't know what's wrong and you love me even when I'm an emotional basket case.
When I give you a compliment even though you think I am insane or completely wrong you deflect by returning the favor.
Translation: You're honored that though you don't agree that you deserve such praise that I think such wonderful things about you and I am one of the best things that has happened to you.
Kiss me Good morning and Goodnight.
Translation: I am precious to you. You want me to be the first thing you see/touch when you wake up and before you go to sleep at night.
In the heart on the tongue!
Say it first, say it loud, say it proud - "I love you!"
Translation: You mean it! You feel it! You're not just parroting it back to me out of habit.
One word answers need not apply. When asked a question please elaborate don't' answer a question with a question. Responses should include - the facts of the matter, how it makes you feel, and your opinion.
Translation: One word answers give the impression that you are being bothered by my need to converse, question for question = evasive and I don't want to guess what you feel - I don't know or I wouldn't ask.
If I do something you like, say thank you or acknowledge the behavior positively. I.E. Tell me I look nice (even if you think I did it for some other reason than you.)
Translation: You noticed me!
I want to know that you miss me, I want to feel wanted and I need your affection, attention and love!
Thursday, July 23, 2009
35 Days to Go
Long overdue update. Sorry it's taken so long for those of you who have been worried about me, but there was/is a huge emotional war raging inside me but we'll get to that.
June 24th the Doc says I have Hematosalpinx : Collection of blood in a fallopian tube. It is affecting my right tube and is 13 x 8 cm positioned across my abdomen all the way to my left fallopian tube. Because it is so large I do not qualify for the vaginal or laproscopic procedures and am headed for a bilateral salpingectomy - that is the removal of both tubes. The surgery is August 27th and will take 6 weeks to heal as she will be doing a bikini line cut through my abdominal muscles.
She will not be removing the uterus because there is nothing wrong with it and wants to take both tubes to prevent the possibility that in a year the other tube will have the same problem. As for the part of this little visit that was detrimental to me emotionally. She said my ovaries were producing normal levels of hormones, that it would not be worth taking them out and forcing menopause so early and that the mood swings were being caused by something else.
To this point Dash and I were able to deal with the wild swings and myriad feelings that were/are without pattern and cause because we believed I could not control it. I had even started taking a pill that was supposed to balance my estrogen levels and promote the production of progesterone. To which I actually had believed to that point was helping me.
Dash and I had had previous discussions about the effectiveness of placebo treatments and both agreed that the mind is a considerably powerful instrument and that even a placebo was worth while if it accomplished something positive. He asked me after the appointment if I was going to continue taking them and I said I was, and did right up to the point where I ran out of them and had no money to replace them. As I found out a week later they aren't a placebo I had a real doozy of a mood on Monday and started taking them again that night.
Both of us were a little thunderstruck about the idea that I was just "being a bitch all on my own". He said this as a JOKE on our way out of the building and I took it for that from him but on the drive home I couldn't get over the inescapble truth of it. There isn't enough sorry in the world for how I'd acted to him or to the Ladybug.
I have spent the last month in emotional turmoil. I knew I needed to update but I also know I only relay facts, when it gets to the truth about my emotions I refuse to tell because I fear what will be thought by others. I'm deathly afraid someone will come along someday and tell me I am clinically fucked up. My mom and half brothers are bi-polar and it scares the hell out of me to think I might have psychological problems.
My first initial reaction before the last Doctor visit consisted of me trying to figure out why Dash would stay with me if we could not have sex and why he would put up with my moodiness.
Dash's only reply to this was that he loves me. When asked what he loves, he says "You being you." I hate this because it is non-specific but Dash seems to think it's a more than ample response. I also realize that I haven't been me for sometime now and am making positive changes as we go. Maybe 7 years down the road of true love I still don't understand it. It may well be that it is never the less true, love is more than enough to hold him here.
I began to examine why I thought he would/should leave and it came down to this ~ when people get married they vow to stay together through the good times and the bad, sickness and health. He in my mind had not signed up for this. I was/am a burden that he should not have to bear. Who in their right mind gets into a relationship looking for hardships?
My friend told me that she thought I placed to much emphasis on the sexual component of romantic relationships, that the reason people get into them is for the bond, the trust, the comfort. I'll add that I think it's also for support and emotional security.
Another friend told me that he thought we had just reached this point in our relationship where we are so comfortable and know each other so well that there isn't much to say and that the silence in long-term relationships is not resentment but contentment.
At one point Dash admitted that he felt kind of like he was failing me because he was unable to compensate for my loss of income when I most needed the support and that there are only 2 things about me he really doesn't like. The moodiness (and that only the last 3 months) the other was my weight (he loves me as I am but wishes I felt better about my outward appearance).
Somewhere in all of this I began looking for the worst in him and of course I found what I wanted to find. None of it true. And becuase I will believe what I want to believe he began to withdraw.
I'm also going to assume that he is more concerned about my well being then he allows me to know. It comes off as unemotional but I think he's trying to bear more of the burden than he should and I am doing the same and the stress creates this distance between us neither of us is willing to bridge for the sake of hurting the other. What cooks the noodle is that it becomes concentric in so much as that we end up hurting each other anyway.
I wish with my whole being that I could simply except what it is and stop the constant questioning of my own worth to him. He loves me. That's more than enough. That's all there is there isn't anymore.
June 24th the Doc says I have Hematosalpinx : Collection of blood in a fallopian tube. It is affecting my right tube and is 13 x 8 cm positioned across my abdomen all the way to my left fallopian tube. Because it is so large I do not qualify for the vaginal or laproscopic procedures and am headed for a bilateral salpingectomy - that is the removal of both tubes. The surgery is August 27th and will take 6 weeks to heal as she will be doing a bikini line cut through my abdominal muscles.
She will not be removing the uterus because there is nothing wrong with it and wants to take both tubes to prevent the possibility that in a year the other tube will have the same problem. As for the part of this little visit that was detrimental to me emotionally. She said my ovaries were producing normal levels of hormones, that it would not be worth taking them out and forcing menopause so early and that the mood swings were being caused by something else.
To this point Dash and I were able to deal with the wild swings and myriad feelings that were/are without pattern and cause because we believed I could not control it. I had even started taking a pill that was supposed to balance my estrogen levels and promote the production of progesterone. To which I actually had believed to that point was helping me.
Dash and I had had previous discussions about the effectiveness of placebo treatments and both agreed that the mind is a considerably powerful instrument and that even a placebo was worth while if it accomplished something positive. He asked me after the appointment if I was going to continue taking them and I said I was, and did right up to the point where I ran out of them and had no money to replace them. As I found out a week later they aren't a placebo I had a real doozy of a mood on Monday and started taking them again that night.
Both of us were a little thunderstruck about the idea that I was just "being a bitch all on my own". He said this as a JOKE on our way out of the building and I took it for that from him but on the drive home I couldn't get over the inescapble truth of it. There isn't enough sorry in the world for how I'd acted to him or to the Ladybug.
I have spent the last month in emotional turmoil. I knew I needed to update but I also know I only relay facts, when it gets to the truth about my emotions I refuse to tell because I fear what will be thought by others. I'm deathly afraid someone will come along someday and tell me I am clinically fucked up. My mom and half brothers are bi-polar and it scares the hell out of me to think I might have psychological problems.
My first initial reaction before the last Doctor visit consisted of me trying to figure out why Dash would stay with me if we could not have sex and why he would put up with my moodiness.
Dash's only reply to this was that he loves me. When asked what he loves, he says "You being you." I hate this because it is non-specific but Dash seems to think it's a more than ample response. I also realize that I haven't been me for sometime now and am making positive changes as we go. Maybe 7 years down the road of true love I still don't understand it. It may well be that it is never the less true, love is more than enough to hold him here.
I began to examine why I thought he would/should leave and it came down to this ~ when people get married they vow to stay together through the good times and the bad, sickness and health. He in my mind had not signed up for this. I was/am a burden that he should not have to bear. Who in their right mind gets into a relationship looking for hardships?
My friend told me that she thought I placed to much emphasis on the sexual component of romantic relationships, that the reason people get into them is for the bond, the trust, the comfort. I'll add that I think it's also for support and emotional security.
Another friend told me that he thought we had just reached this point in our relationship where we are so comfortable and know each other so well that there isn't much to say and that the silence in long-term relationships is not resentment but contentment.
At one point Dash admitted that he felt kind of like he was failing me because he was unable to compensate for my loss of income when I most needed the support and that there are only 2 things about me he really doesn't like. The moodiness (and that only the last 3 months) the other was my weight (he loves me as I am but wishes I felt better about my outward appearance).
Somewhere in all of this I began looking for the worst in him and of course I found what I wanted to find. None of it true. And becuase I will believe what I want to believe he began to withdraw.
I'm also going to assume that he is more concerned about my well being then he allows me to know. It comes off as unemotional but I think he's trying to bear more of the burden than he should and I am doing the same and the stress creates this distance between us neither of us is willing to bridge for the sake of hurting the other. What cooks the noodle is that it becomes concentric in so much as that we end up hurting each other anyway.
I wish with my whole being that I could simply except what it is and stop the constant questioning of my own worth to him. He loves me. That's more than enough. That's all there is there isn't anymore.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Fibroids
In August 2007 I had an episode at work. Having never had a heart attack I can only imagine what it feels like but this was something akin to that I think.
It started out as profound sweating, escalated to full on dizziness with pronounced abdominal pain. I was shaking so hard I could not stand and by 5 a.m. I had my boyfriend rush me to the ER. Most of my adult life I would not go to any doctor unless I was quite literally dieing. This I say only to illustrate how bad it felt because I do not believe I am doing it justice here.
They put me through one of those trans-vaginal deals and I have to say it was the single most painful experience of my life including child birth. The tech was in no way forgiving or sympathetic.
The ER pronounced it a cyst. The gynecologist pronounced it a cyst with the possibility of fibroids because of the fact that in previous months I had complained of menstrual cycles so painful I could do nothing but lay on the couch and cry for 3 days. She prescribed me a blue pill for the cramping and said that the cysts would most likely take care of themselves with my next cycle. She also ordered an ultrasound.
When we tried to make the appoinment for the Ultrasound they did not have anything available. While I waited I had taken on a new very physically demanding job as a stable hand. When they finally did have an appointment available I could not go due to the nature of this job not affording holidays, vacation time or sick days. As well as the fact that if I could not go to work there was no co-worker to ask to fill in.
That job included shoveling piles of horse poo into a wheel barrow and dumping onto the dung heap. Followed by many trips (at least 16 every day so round trip that's 32 treks across the arena with a full wheelbarrow of sawdust shavings) across a very big indoor arena to haul shaving back to the pins. Carrying 2 gallon buckets of water to dump out refill and return to the stalls. After 6 months with this job I had lost 25 lbs. and was well on my way to Buff City.
Previous to this I had been a stay at home mommy for 12 years. The painful cramping and debilitation of my menstrual cycles ceased. So I assumed that the cysts had indeed taken care of themselves and completely forgot about the fibroids. I was feeling better than I had in a very long time except for the extreme tired at the end of the day. It was satisfying though. I truly loved it!
Let me ask you this - Do you go to the doctor more than once a year and say "Hey Doc I feel great could you have a look and make sure I really am fine?" Me neither, so it simply slipped out of my mind. The moment I was sure I needed help I got it or I'm trying to - been to the doctors office almost every week since April, I'm a bit tired of this test, test, test, and wait shit!
So 2 years later it may be that those tiny fibroids have banded together across my abdomen, this abnormally growing phenomenon may well have been what has caused my endometriosis I still don't know. Tomorrow I have THE appointment where the Doc is supposed to tell me exactly what is wrong and how we will be proceeding.
I'm hoping for a full hysterectomy. I know this will vault me into full blown menopause but I have already been experiencing most if not all of the sysmptoms associated with it. I have had my children and don't want anymore, neither does Dash as he got fixed 2 years ago. I don't need the baby carriage anymore, nor the ovaries and fullopian tubes. Take it all and the menstrual cycles with it.
The only real concern I have about surgery is the approximate recovery times range from 2 - 6 weeks. This is bad because I do not qualify for paid sick leave with my current job, Employment Insurance will only cover 55% of my average income and will kick in AFTER I've been out of work for 2 weeks. The bills still come whether I am sick or dieing. I'm kind of hoping I am a candidate for the laproscopic surgery (3 little holes on the abdomen) if not that then the vaginal hysterectomy. The other worst scenario is they have to cut through all of my abdominal muscles and open me wide up. That one will have stiches, staples, scars and 6 weeks where I can't even lift toast.
It started out as profound sweating, escalated to full on dizziness with pronounced abdominal pain. I was shaking so hard I could not stand and by 5 a.m. I had my boyfriend rush me to the ER. Most of my adult life I would not go to any doctor unless I was quite literally dieing. This I say only to illustrate how bad it felt because I do not believe I am doing it justice here.
They put me through one of those trans-vaginal deals and I have to say it was the single most painful experience of my life including child birth. The tech was in no way forgiving or sympathetic.
The ER pronounced it a cyst. The gynecologist pronounced it a cyst with the possibility of fibroids because of the fact that in previous months I had complained of menstrual cycles so painful I could do nothing but lay on the couch and cry for 3 days. She prescribed me a blue pill for the cramping and said that the cysts would most likely take care of themselves with my next cycle. She also ordered an ultrasound.
When we tried to make the appoinment for the Ultrasound they did not have anything available. While I waited I had taken on a new very physically demanding job as a stable hand. When they finally did have an appointment available I could not go due to the nature of this job not affording holidays, vacation time or sick days. As well as the fact that if I could not go to work there was no co-worker to ask to fill in.
That job included shoveling piles of horse poo into a wheel barrow and dumping onto the dung heap. Followed by many trips (at least 16 every day so round trip that's 32 treks across the arena with a full wheelbarrow of sawdust shavings) across a very big indoor arena to haul shaving back to the pins. Carrying 2 gallon buckets of water to dump out refill and return to the stalls. After 6 months with this job I had lost 25 lbs. and was well on my way to Buff City.
Previous to this I had been a stay at home mommy for 12 years. The painful cramping and debilitation of my menstrual cycles ceased. So I assumed that the cysts had indeed taken care of themselves and completely forgot about the fibroids. I was feeling better than I had in a very long time except for the extreme tired at the end of the day. It was satisfying though. I truly loved it!
Let me ask you this - Do you go to the doctor more than once a year and say "Hey Doc I feel great could you have a look and make sure I really am fine?" Me neither, so it simply slipped out of my mind. The moment I was sure I needed help I got it or I'm trying to - been to the doctors office almost every week since April, I'm a bit tired of this test, test, test, and wait shit!
So 2 years later it may be that those tiny fibroids have banded together across my abdomen, this abnormally growing phenomenon may well have been what has caused my endometriosis I still don't know. Tomorrow I have THE appointment where the Doc is supposed to tell me exactly what is wrong and how we will be proceeding.
I'm hoping for a full hysterectomy. I know this will vault me into full blown menopause but I have already been experiencing most if not all of the sysmptoms associated with it. I have had my children and don't want anymore, neither does Dash as he got fixed 2 years ago. I don't need the baby carriage anymore, nor the ovaries and fullopian tubes. Take it all and the menstrual cycles with it.
The only real concern I have about surgery is the approximate recovery times range from 2 - 6 weeks. This is bad because I do not qualify for paid sick leave with my current job, Employment Insurance will only cover 55% of my average income and will kick in AFTER I've been out of work for 2 weeks. The bills still come whether I am sick or dieing. I'm kind of hoping I am a candidate for the laproscopic surgery (3 little holes on the abdomen) if not that then the vaginal hysterectomy. The other worst scenario is they have to cut through all of my abdominal muscles and open me wide up. That one will have stiches, staples, scars and 6 weeks where I can't even lift toast.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Gynecologists and the Negative Ninny
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Let's begin today with an explanation of why I do not like gynecologists. Fact is it will never matter if the Doctor is good or not, this experience is TORTURE even when I do not have problems.
1. The speculum - is not comfortable in truth it hurts me so badly I cry the entire time. I have tried balling my fists and placing them under my lower back to lessen the pain and tilting my pelvis to various angles, as well as taking mild mood soothing herbs and Tylenol before an appointment all to no avail. I also ALWAYS get pinched. This pain may or may NOT be associated with the scar tissue created when I contracted chlamydia at the age of 17 (bad boyfriend for screwing around bad me for not making him use a condom).
2. The Pap smear - While I know this is a q-tip and Doctors of varying gentleness have done this it still feels like razor blades.
3. Abnormal Cells - After each and every time I gave birth the Doctor would inform me that I had abnormal cells and that they needed to do a biopsy to rule out Cervical Cancer. The biopsy always came back clean or upon retesting 6 months later miraculously gone. I know this is preventative and caught early could save my life but I think after it happening 3 times each time after birth having the EXACT same problem I think I know what I'm talking about when I tell them it will rectify itself. The last ass I encountered about this refused to first retest properly (6 months instead of 6 weeks you dim wit) so he decided I needed a LEEP (cork sized biopsy from the cervix) I let him do what he thought was necessary only because this is what it took to get him to agree to give me the Tubal I wanted. Thanks to that I now have a shallow vagina and pressure pain I've learned to deal with during sex.
4. Cancer - NOT everyone has it and NOT everything causes it. This word stresses me out and no matter how many times I tell a Doctor to not use it unless tests PROVE I have it they will not be sensitive to my feelings. One time under direct orders in my file a Doctor had notated that it would danger the fetus to stress me out so therefore talking about an amniocentisis or the results of any birth defects testing, and any mention of cancer whatsoever with me would be stressful and detremental to my health. What happened was the on call Doctor obviously could not read and did just that. Harassing me at home with phone calls trying to convince me that this was something I HAD to do. It did not matter that everytime I said no and asked her to stop. I ended up bed bound for 2 weeks over this.
5. Emotionally/Mentally - I can and do have the ability to wrap my head around a great deal of pain. I am aware they ARE trying to help me! However I still go home from an appointment feeling violated - this may be a psychological throw back from being molested by my Uncle at 5 and raped by my brother at 12. I can't be positive about anyone I really am not in love with touching anything private. My skin tries to vacate my body every time I get a breast exam. It's not the Doctors fault I realize this and say nothing to them but am a basket case for the rest of the day.
6. Psychiatrist - been there done that didn't change a damn thing! I feel how I feel.
I'm not saying ALL Gynecologists are bad I am saying since I do not have a medical degree they do not listen because they think I am stupid and stubborn. Be that as it may I wear my body for 24/7 for the last 35 years. I am intelligent and will seek information on that which I do not understand or know and WILL consult a professional because I do NOT profess that I am smater than they are.
It isn't even just Gynecoligists every single Doctor I have ever seen has at one point in time accused me of stupity with this phrase "How can you possibly know you have ________? (fill in the blank) Are you a Doctor?"
1. I didn't say I KNOW anything I said I SUSPECT this is my problem.
2. If I KNEW what it was what the hell would I be doing in your office?
3. Just because I am from back woods Missouri and speak with an accent does NOT mean I am an idiot.
I accept that all of the aforementioned may be an example of pessimism on my part and stubborness to boot but again this is how I feel. I really try to make extreme efforts to not allow this to control my ability to remain healthy. I am sorry TRY is all I can promise. I am open to suggestions on how to control this if it should seem irrational to anyone.
Tomorrow I'll delve into the Fibroids and why I waited so long to deal with those.
Please be advised due to my current medical condition Doctors have informed me that I'm incapable of coping skills and prone to Hormonal Challenges (HC) - that's moodiness hijacked by ninjas on hormone deficient cognitive reasoning. Please take all things with a pinch of salt. Know I do NOT mean anything said as an attack simply an explanation. I want/need your opinions, your support and your understanding. Thank You!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Let's begin today with an explanation of why I do not like gynecologists. Fact is it will never matter if the Doctor is good or not, this experience is TORTURE even when I do not have problems.
1. The speculum - is not comfortable in truth it hurts me so badly I cry the entire time. I have tried balling my fists and placing them under my lower back to lessen the pain and tilting my pelvis to various angles, as well as taking mild mood soothing herbs and Tylenol before an appointment all to no avail. I also ALWAYS get pinched. This pain may or may NOT be associated with the scar tissue created when I contracted chlamydia at the age of 17 (bad boyfriend for screwing around bad me for not making him use a condom).
2. The Pap smear - While I know this is a q-tip and Doctors of varying gentleness have done this it still feels like razor blades.
3. Abnormal Cells - After each and every time I gave birth the Doctor would inform me that I had abnormal cells and that they needed to do a biopsy to rule out Cervical Cancer. The biopsy always came back clean or upon retesting 6 months later miraculously gone. I know this is preventative and caught early could save my life but I think after it happening 3 times each time after birth having the EXACT same problem I think I know what I'm talking about when I tell them it will rectify itself. The last ass I encountered about this refused to first retest properly (6 months instead of 6 weeks you dim wit) so he decided I needed a LEEP (cork sized biopsy from the cervix) I let him do what he thought was necessary only because this is what it took to get him to agree to give me the Tubal I wanted. Thanks to that I now have a shallow vagina and pressure pain I've learned to deal with during sex.
4. Cancer - NOT everyone has it and NOT everything causes it. This word stresses me out and no matter how many times I tell a Doctor to not use it unless tests PROVE I have it they will not be sensitive to my feelings. One time under direct orders in my file a Doctor had notated that it would danger the fetus to stress me out so therefore talking about an amniocentisis or the results of any birth defects testing, and any mention of cancer whatsoever with me would be stressful and detremental to my health. What happened was the on call Doctor obviously could not read and did just that. Harassing me at home with phone calls trying to convince me that this was something I HAD to do. It did not matter that everytime I said no and asked her to stop. I ended up bed bound for 2 weeks over this.
5. Emotionally/Mentally - I can and do have the ability to wrap my head around a great deal of pain. I am aware they ARE trying to help me! However I still go home from an appointment feeling violated - this may be a psychological throw back from being molested by my Uncle at 5 and raped by my brother at 12. I can't be positive about anyone I really am not in love with touching anything private. My skin tries to vacate my body every time I get a breast exam. It's not the Doctors fault I realize this and say nothing to them but am a basket case for the rest of the day.
6. Psychiatrist - been there done that didn't change a damn thing! I feel how I feel.
I'm not saying ALL Gynecologists are bad I am saying since I do not have a medical degree they do not listen because they think I am stupid and stubborn. Be that as it may I wear my body for 24/7 for the last 35 years. I am intelligent and will seek information on that which I do not understand or know and WILL consult a professional because I do NOT profess that I am smater than they are.
It isn't even just Gynecoligists every single Doctor I have ever seen has at one point in time accused me of stupity with this phrase "How can you possibly know you have ________? (fill in the blank) Are you a Doctor?"
1. I didn't say I KNOW anything I said I SUSPECT this is my problem.
2. If I KNEW what it was what the hell would I be doing in your office?
3. Just because I am from back woods Missouri and speak with an accent does NOT mean I am an idiot.
I accept that all of the aforementioned may be an example of pessimism on my part and stubborness to boot but again this is how I feel. I really try to make extreme efforts to not allow this to control my ability to remain healthy. I am sorry TRY is all I can promise. I am open to suggestions on how to control this if it should seem irrational to anyone.
Tomorrow I'll delve into the Fibroids and why I waited so long to deal with those.
Pardon My Patients
FAIR WARNING: Post IS 4 fucking pages long in Word!
So okay if you have been around long enough you know that I am fairly inconsistent with my entries and that when something major is going on with me I return to blogging. The simple truth of the matter is when I come back it is because I am tired of inflicting my whoas on my loved ones but still require room to think and share. My personality type does not allow for bottling up my feelings. I saw what holding things inside did to my mother and I refuse to allow the truth to fester inside my soul like a malignant spore.
What I am about to talk about seems to be woman’s dirty little secret, there is not much in the way of personal example on the subject only very clinical factoids. I believe that my experiences in life (all aspects) when shared can help others. Even if the example is what not to do, if you learn something then my life purpose has been fulfilled.
In April I began to have a myriad of symptoms.
And the symptom after the 4th time that I simply could not ignore: Bleeding after intercourse (and I mean enough to soak a very plush very large bathing towel).
I imagine the first conclusion you are imagining is Pregnancy let me dispel that one right away – my tubal ligation(TL) (READ: Fixed – no more puppies for this bitch) was in September 2000.
About this time my mother had been hospitalized for EXTREMELY high blood sugar (204) that’s enough to damage her heart, plus an ear infection plus pneumonia. My family is a tad large and therefore all in the high risk category for diabetes. I had noticed that my low moods and fatigue would disappear after I ate so I assumed I was having precursory symptoms to diabetes and that the head/body aches and inability to concentrate were the onset of a sinus cold. Perhaps in hind sight I was grasping at whatever was closest for the moment.
Now for the bloody matters – well I honestly believed I was miscalculating my periods either thinking they were done when in fact they weren’t or that I was starting early (SEE: lack of concentration) . The pain of sex only happened once and was not followed by a blood bath so I thought we were simply in the wrong position and had irritated something. The next week we went to have a friend who happens to be an accountant look over our taxes. His wife is a Homeopathic Nurse and me; ever the worrier excused myself to her office while the boys perused the numbers. The first thing she said was perimenopause.
Quoted from Wikipedia if a little altered for flow (pardon the pun): “Perimenopause is the term describing the menopause transition years, in women who have a uterus, the years both before and after the final period.”
I was mildly alarmed because woman + menopause = dirty word. No one had ever talked to me about it nor had I bothered to ask. Okay here comes your second concern – I am not to young to be entering this stage of life (35) especially if genetics has anything to do with it because guess what? I first made an appointment with my Doctor and second called my mother. To which she nonchalantly went into a giggling fit about her extreme long periods and many fibroids that lead to her hysterectomy at the age of you guessed it thirty-fuckin’-five!!! I was 8 and have no recollection of my life before 11, sorry I just don’t remember anything before that. And here she’d just said another word I’d heard before FIBROIDS.
Fibroids are benign tumors which grow from the muscle layers of the uterus, they often do not require treatment but when they are problematic, they may be treated surgically (hysterectomy, hormonal therapy, a myomectomy, or uterine artery embolization) or with medication. About 2 years ago while working a night shift I damn near fainted, had extreme abdominal pain and soaked with sweat like I’d just gotten out of a very nasty shower. That ER experience is one of the reasons I stopped visiting the gynecologist.
You just made that hissing sound I heard you!
I know not going for your yearly visit is like tattooing cervical cancer on your death sentence dead girl walking slip but I HATE the “C” word. I’m not going to get into that just now. Don’t judge - just read!!!
I went to the family doc – standard blood work, listen to my breath look in my Ear Nose Throat (ENT). Wait one week for test results.
Go in for test results – it ain’t diabetes! WOW really? Surprised I be! I lay on the table, he feels my tummy and goes (I kid you not) “WHOA! If I didn’t know better I’d say,” as he runs his hand from pelvis to sternum,”That’s about 18 weeks.” This is a man of very few words and no emotion whatsoever. So I’m a little nervous as you can imagine.
I fucking snorted, rolled my eyes and laughed right in his face, “That’s not even remotely possible.” And proceed to tell the Doc about said TL. I couldn’t get that damn “P” word outta my head so I raced home and pissed on a stick just to be sure. (There is another ridiculously funny story there for another time.)
The following week he schedules an ultra-sound + transvaginal. Gggaaaahhhh!!!! SO I wait a week and have the test this sucks on so many levels - 5 bottles of water an hour before the appointment + pelvis pain and a stick jammed into your cookie jar = I hate being a girl! Wait another week for the results.
Results = buttkissangel. We think it’s a fibroid it looks like one but doesn’t act like one and we can’t see your ovaries but it’s a mass about 4 inches by 6 inches. We need to rule out…say it with me…Cancer, suggest MRI.
So the bad family doctor can’t order an MRI he has to refer me to a specialist (READ: Gyne-fuckin-cologist) please wait 2 weeks, no sex, and extra pain from the stress. Yes, the more stressed I am the more it hurts. Wrap your noodle around this I am a stomach sleeper!
Meet with the Gyno who first told me it was a fibroid (2 years earlier), get lecture, pap, blood work and wait for MRI appointment. You’ll love this. The first appointment they could schedule…
August fucking 7th.
By this time I can not get my man to hug me or kiss me because he might hurt me and I am sleeping in the living room because our bed is unforgiving to the now bloated stomach. My mood roller coaster is about to come off the rails because I feel like I am all alone and repulsive to boot. I can no longer work out it hurts to lift my leg, I don’t have the energy and I’ve started fucking up at work so badly I almost got fired! What’s worse is the insomnia is keeping me up so late I have to take the night shifts so I’m not getting to see Dash at all. Which is probably a good thing. I think the moodiness was getting to him even if he understood the hormones were in control and not me. Wee-haw aren’t we having some fun now!
That brings us to June 3rd - I was awakened bright and fantastically early given above problems to a call from the Hospital "We have a cancellation can you be here in an hour?" YEEEEEEEESSSSSSS!!! The MRI was fun especially with a head cold (another story, another time.) I know, I know but this story is hugely long. Sorry.
Doc Torture…err Gyno goes on fucking vacation whilst we await the supposedly 2 weeks it takes for the results to appear. On the 10th that little head cold is full blown sinus infection and I can’t stand because my equilibrium is shot. I actually booked an appointment with Dr. Family Fuck-up for the head case.
Low and behold I arrive to see the MRI written in Latin or some other dead fuckin’ language stapled to the front of my file and my head miraculously clears. I totally fucking forgot they asked if I wanted him copied on the results. I said,"Sure good to have all your eggs in one basket." (Teehee) He writes a scrip for antibiotics to clear up my sinus infection and precedes to read those damn results 5 fucking times before he will tell me anything muttering obscenities all the while at the page likes it’s a moron or something. The little bit I got out of him he didn’t want to divulge saying I had to talk to Dr. Torture.
So his version goes something like this: “Endometriosis (his description I swear) – when the uterine lining gets outside the uterine cavity for whatever reason. Yours has attached itself to your fallopian tube and it’s filling it with blood. My guess is she’ll (Dr. Torture) want to take it out.”
Take what out the fallopian tube, the uterus, all of it (Please god by all that is holy!!!)? This is where he decides the clam is dirty enough without his mucking about in it and I can pry nothing further from his educated non-bedside having manner.
So I managed to get Dash to book off so he can go to the appointment on the 17th to see Dr. Torture when she gives me all the big words and the judgment of the surgical court.
. . . W a i t f o r it . . .
On the 16th (can you guess I bet you can) the fucking twit receptionist with a manly mustache calls to move my appointment time on the 24th from the morning to the afternoon. WAIT A DAMN MINUTE! I have an appointment tomorrow. No she says its next week. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!! We don’t even have the results yet it’s too soon. Uhm, pardon me ma’am but Dr. Scrooge has them why the hell don’t you? I don’t know but your appointment is on the 24th.
AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
And that folks believe it or not is the funny parts. It’s not even the whole damn story but its 4 damn pages long and this is a mother of an update. I want, no I need very much to tell you about the emotional side because it’s the part I can NOT, will NOT live with!
So okay if you have been around long enough you know that I am fairly inconsistent with my entries and that when something major is going on with me I return to blogging. The simple truth of the matter is when I come back it is because I am tired of inflicting my whoas on my loved ones but still require room to think and share. My personality type does not allow for bottling up my feelings. I saw what holding things inside did to my mother and I refuse to allow the truth to fester inside my soul like a malignant spore.
What I am about to talk about seems to be woman’s dirty little secret, there is not much in the way of personal example on the subject only very clinical factoids. I believe that my experiences in life (all aspects) when shared can help others. Even if the example is what not to do, if you learn something then my life purpose has been fulfilled.
In April I began to have a myriad of symptoms.
- After dinner I would sweat until my shirt was soaked.
- Getting tired at 2 in the afternoon and having trouble staying awake past 6 p.m.
- The ability to prioritize/organize my usual tasks at work disappeared entirely.
- Mood swings with no discernable pattern or reason.
- My insomnia got so bad at one point I had, had 5 hours of sleep in 10 days. (I know this symptom is the polar opposite of another but it happened.)
- Having to pee every half hour.
- My breasts actually feel like they are growing but are not changing size.
- Heartburn even when drinking water.
- Everything tasting like cardboard.
- Pain in the general region of kidneys and just above pubic bone.
- Pain during intercourse.
And the symptom after the 4th time that I simply could not ignore: Bleeding after intercourse (and I mean enough to soak a very plush very large bathing towel).
I imagine the first conclusion you are imagining is Pregnancy let me dispel that one right away – my tubal ligation(TL) (READ: Fixed – no more puppies for this bitch) was in September 2000.
About this time my mother had been hospitalized for EXTREMELY high blood sugar (204) that’s enough to damage her heart, plus an ear infection plus pneumonia. My family is a tad large and therefore all in the high risk category for diabetes. I had noticed that my low moods and fatigue would disappear after I ate so I assumed I was having precursory symptoms to diabetes and that the head/body aches and inability to concentrate were the onset of a sinus cold. Perhaps in hind sight I was grasping at whatever was closest for the moment.
Now for the bloody matters – well I honestly believed I was miscalculating my periods either thinking they were done when in fact they weren’t or that I was starting early (SEE: lack of concentration) . The pain of sex only happened once and was not followed by a blood bath so I thought we were simply in the wrong position and had irritated something. The next week we went to have a friend who happens to be an accountant look over our taxes. His wife is a Homeopathic Nurse and me; ever the worrier excused myself to her office while the boys perused the numbers. The first thing she said was perimenopause.
Quoted from Wikipedia if a little altered for flow (pardon the pun): “Perimenopause is the term describing the menopause transition years, in women who have a uterus, the years both before and after the final period.”
I was mildly alarmed because woman + menopause = dirty word. No one had ever talked to me about it nor had I bothered to ask. Okay here comes your second concern – I am not to young to be entering this stage of life (35) especially if genetics has anything to do with it because guess what? I first made an appointment with my Doctor and second called my mother. To which she nonchalantly went into a giggling fit about her extreme long periods and many fibroids that lead to her hysterectomy at the age of you guessed it thirty-fuckin’-five!!! I was 8 and have no recollection of my life before 11, sorry I just don’t remember anything before that. And here she’d just said another word I’d heard before FIBROIDS.
Fibroids are benign tumors which grow from the muscle layers of the uterus, they often do not require treatment but when they are problematic, they may be treated surgically (hysterectomy, hormonal therapy, a myomectomy, or uterine artery embolization) or with medication. About 2 years ago while working a night shift I damn near fainted, had extreme abdominal pain and soaked with sweat like I’d just gotten out of a very nasty shower. That ER experience is one of the reasons I stopped visiting the gynecologist.
You just made that hissing sound I heard you!
I know not going for your yearly visit is like tattooing cervical cancer on your death sentence dead girl walking slip but I HATE the “C” word. I’m not going to get into that just now. Don’t judge - just read!!!
I went to the family doc – standard blood work, listen to my breath look in my Ear Nose Throat (ENT). Wait one week for test results.
Go in for test results – it ain’t diabetes! WOW really? Surprised I be! I lay on the table, he feels my tummy and goes (I kid you not) “WHOA! If I didn’t know better I’d say,” as he runs his hand from pelvis to sternum,”That’s about 18 weeks.” This is a man of very few words and no emotion whatsoever. So I’m a little nervous as you can imagine.
I fucking snorted, rolled my eyes and laughed right in his face, “That’s not even remotely possible.” And proceed to tell the Doc about said TL. I couldn’t get that damn “P” word outta my head so I raced home and pissed on a stick just to be sure. (There is another ridiculously funny story there for another time.)
The following week he schedules an ultra-sound + transvaginal. Gggaaaahhhh!!!! SO I wait a week and have the test this sucks on so many levels - 5 bottles of water an hour before the appointment + pelvis pain and a stick jammed into your cookie jar = I hate being a girl! Wait another week for the results.
Results = buttkissangel. We think it’s a fibroid it looks like one but doesn’t act like one and we can’t see your ovaries but it’s a mass about 4 inches by 6 inches. We need to rule out…say it with me…Cancer, suggest MRI.
So the bad family doctor can’t order an MRI he has to refer me to a specialist (READ: Gyne-fuckin-cologist) please wait 2 weeks, no sex, and extra pain from the stress. Yes, the more stressed I am the more it hurts. Wrap your noodle around this I am a stomach sleeper!
Meet with the Gyno who first told me it was a fibroid (2 years earlier), get lecture, pap, blood work and wait for MRI appointment. You’ll love this. The first appointment they could schedule…
August fucking 7th.
By this time I can not get my man to hug me or kiss me because he might hurt me and I am sleeping in the living room because our bed is unforgiving to the now bloated stomach. My mood roller coaster is about to come off the rails because I feel like I am all alone and repulsive to boot. I can no longer work out it hurts to lift my leg, I don’t have the energy and I’ve started fucking up at work so badly I almost got fired! What’s worse is the insomnia is keeping me up so late I have to take the night shifts so I’m not getting to see Dash at all. Which is probably a good thing. I think the moodiness was getting to him even if he understood the hormones were in control and not me. Wee-haw aren’t we having some fun now!
That brings us to June 3rd - I was awakened bright and fantastically early given above problems to a call from the Hospital "We have a cancellation can you be here in an hour?" YEEEEEEEESSSSSSS!!! The MRI was fun especially with a head cold (another story, another time.) I know, I know but this story is hugely long. Sorry.
Doc Torture…err Gyno goes on fucking vacation whilst we await the supposedly 2 weeks it takes for the results to appear. On the 10th that little head cold is full blown sinus infection and I can’t stand because my equilibrium is shot. I actually booked an appointment with Dr. Family Fuck-up for the head case.
Low and behold I arrive to see the MRI written in Latin or some other dead fuckin’ language stapled to the front of my file and my head miraculously clears. I totally fucking forgot they asked if I wanted him copied on the results. I said,"Sure good to have all your eggs in one basket." (Teehee) He writes a scrip for antibiotics to clear up my sinus infection and precedes to read those damn results 5 fucking times before he will tell me anything muttering obscenities all the while at the page likes it’s a moron or something. The little bit I got out of him he didn’t want to divulge saying I had to talk to Dr. Torture.
So his version goes something like this: “Endometriosis (his description I swear) – when the uterine lining gets outside the uterine cavity for whatever reason. Yours has attached itself to your fallopian tube and it’s filling it with blood. My guess is she’ll (Dr. Torture) want to take it out.”
Take what out the fallopian tube, the uterus, all of it (Please god by all that is holy!!!)? This is where he decides the clam is dirty enough without his mucking about in it and I can pry nothing further from his educated non-bedside having manner.
So I managed to get Dash to book off so he can go to the appointment on the 17th to see Dr. Torture when she gives me all the big words and the judgment of the surgical court.
. . . W a i t f o r it . . .
On the 16th (can you guess I bet you can) the fucking twit receptionist with a manly mustache calls to move my appointment time on the 24th from the morning to the afternoon. WAIT A DAMN MINUTE! I have an appointment tomorrow. No she says its next week. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!! We don’t even have the results yet it’s too soon. Uhm, pardon me ma’am but Dr. Scrooge has them why the hell don’t you? I don’t know but your appointment is on the 24th.
AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
And that folks believe it or not is the funny parts. It’s not even the whole damn story but its 4 damn pages long and this is a mother of an update. I want, no I need very much to tell you about the emotional side because it’s the part I can NOT, will NOT live with!
Monday, June 15, 2009
Blubell
So we're on our way back from the Doctor's office and I'm doing these calculations ~ round-trip cab cost $24 x 20 days to heal = $480 - $ 875 (6 month average monthly income) = $ 395 and all I get for over half of my paycheck is irritation 'cause cabbies can't drive.
MADNESS I tell ya!!!
About that time Dash is driving past a used car lot we have talked about stopping into and I look over at him totally deflated and say,"Do you realize the cost of a cab for the remainder of the month is a car payment?"
And I see the wheels creaking to a screeching halt in his head as he tries to rectify our current credit score with the possibility that I will be spending more than we can afford to burn on cabs. Sort of dumbfounded he asks beseeching me not to say yes,"Do you want to stop at the car dealership?"
Up to this point we've been volleying the pros and cons of buying me a car for 9 months and the numbers won't mesh no matter how hard we try. Of course those puppy eyes and the reality that has always been my luck seep out into my words,"No."
We don't even make it half a block and I can't take one more second of this shit. We work so hard for so little pay and then it's one more thing dragging us down. But it's ALWAYS one more fucking thing!!! I look him dead in the face,"Turn around."
He does and I can feel us both putting on our armor, you know the thick skinned kind that's prepared to hear "NO" for the billionth time.
As we park a salesman is walking out with 2 customers and we're doing our best not to look poor. I have to wonder to seasoned salesman if this facade ever works? He zeros in on us, turns out to be a good-natured guy, gives us room to look, not to pushy asking all the right questions and side-stepping the obviousness of our situation.
Sits us down, runs the numbers and asks if we want to run it past the bank?
I don't know if you've ever had those moments when you have to worry about ONE more inquiry on your credit history or not but it sort of feels like someone decided to park a boat on your face.
I look at Dash. Dash looks at me and we silently are gearing up for the "can we think about it" escape speech when Mr. Calzone senses the fish wiggling for all it's worth on the hook he says,"You have some concerns."
He leans back in his chair steeples his fingers together gets up from his chair holds up one finger and leaves us in his office. I'm sure both of us felt like a deer in headlights - where did he go - 10 minutes passes he's still not back, we're uncomfortable and wanting to run. I can feel our tension like lightening in a thunderhead building. When he returns he's smiling.
Not only did he get a bank to agree to our chosen car and price without checking our credit but also a cash back bonus. Enough to pay off 2 of our high interest rate credit cards for half the APR and do a little necessity shopping. The money that freed up made it possible to make the car and insurance payment.
PLUS! Yes I said plus, there's more - this bank specializes in people like us struggling to rebuild our credit history by doing all the right things and seemingly getting no where, IF after a year all our payments are ON TIME they will offer us a personal line of credit no questions asked!!!
I swear the tide just shifted, I'm numb of course we agreed and we are now 3 short months away from that 1 year line.
Let me tell you about the car and then I will connect the spooky dots for you, m'kay? Good. It was a Blue 2008 Dodge Avenger that had been used as a day rental with 24561 km.
Now for the Spooky - It took 2 days to file all the proper paperwork for pick-up and while we anxiously awaited word from Mr. Calzone when it would be ready I began trying to decide on the cars' name. I know some people think this is silly but it is a tradition handed down from my father all Dodge vehicles in our family must have names starting with the letter "B".
So I settled on Blubell because of the color. When we went to pick up the car we learned that Mr. Calzone was not in fact a salesman but none other than the sales manager and owner of the dealership! He does not broker deals hasn't for 5+ years he's to busy normally, we just happened to catch him as he was escorting out some customers from years past that dropped in to say hello.
The plate that we did not order personalized had part of the name I had chosen on it. So had I not had my accident we would never have been going to the doctor on that day, had I not told Dash to keep driving that extra 1/2 block we wouldn't have gotten Mr. Calzone and I still can't explain the plate.
So many good things have happened since I hurt my knee it just amazes me. Looking back at it hind sight being what it is (20/20) I really believe I had to get hurt in order for the good things to come.
Sometimes even when you're down fate smiles.
MADNESS I tell ya!!!
About that time Dash is driving past a used car lot we have talked about stopping into and I look over at him totally deflated and say,"Do you realize the cost of a cab for the remainder of the month is a car payment?"
And I see the wheels creaking to a screeching halt in his head as he tries to rectify our current credit score with the possibility that I will be spending more than we can afford to burn on cabs. Sort of dumbfounded he asks beseeching me not to say yes,"Do you want to stop at the car dealership?"
Up to this point we've been volleying the pros and cons of buying me a car for 9 months and the numbers won't mesh no matter how hard we try. Of course those puppy eyes and the reality that has always been my luck seep out into my words,"No."
We don't even make it half a block and I can't take one more second of this shit. We work so hard for so little pay and then it's one more thing dragging us down. But it's ALWAYS one more fucking thing!!! I look him dead in the face,"Turn around."
He does and I can feel us both putting on our armor, you know the thick skinned kind that's prepared to hear "NO" for the billionth time.
As we park a salesman is walking out with 2 customers and we're doing our best not to look poor. I have to wonder to seasoned salesman if this facade ever works? He zeros in on us, turns out to be a good-natured guy, gives us room to look, not to pushy asking all the right questions and side-stepping the obviousness of our situation.
Sits us down, runs the numbers and asks if we want to run it past the bank?
I don't know if you've ever had those moments when you have to worry about ONE more inquiry on your credit history or not but it sort of feels like someone decided to park a boat on your face.
I look at Dash. Dash looks at me and we silently are gearing up for the "can we think about it" escape speech when Mr. Calzone senses the fish wiggling for all it's worth on the hook he says,"You have some concerns."
He leans back in his chair steeples his fingers together gets up from his chair holds up one finger and leaves us in his office. I'm sure both of us felt like a deer in headlights - where did he go - 10 minutes passes he's still not back, we're uncomfortable and wanting to run. I can feel our tension like lightening in a thunderhead building. When he returns he's smiling.
Not only did he get a bank to agree to our chosen car and price without checking our credit but also a cash back bonus. Enough to pay off 2 of our high interest rate credit cards for half the APR and do a little necessity shopping. The money that freed up made it possible to make the car and insurance payment.
PLUS! Yes I said plus, there's more - this bank specializes in people like us struggling to rebuild our credit history by doing all the right things and seemingly getting no where, IF after a year all our payments are ON TIME they will offer us a personal line of credit no questions asked!!!
I swear the tide just shifted, I'm numb of course we agreed and we are now 3 short months away from that 1 year line.
Let me tell you about the car and then I will connect the spooky dots for you, m'kay? Good. It was a Blue 2008 Dodge Avenger that had been used as a day rental with 24561 km.
Now for the Spooky - It took 2 days to file all the proper paperwork for pick-up and while we anxiously awaited word from Mr. Calzone when it would be ready I began trying to decide on the cars' name. I know some people think this is silly but it is a tradition handed down from my father all Dodge vehicles in our family must have names starting with the letter "B".
So I settled on Blubell because of the color. When we went to pick up the car we learned that Mr. Calzone was not in fact a salesman but none other than the sales manager and owner of the dealership! He does not broker deals hasn't for 5+ years he's to busy normally, we just happened to catch him as he was escorting out some customers from years past that dropped in to say hello.
The plate that we did not order personalized had part of the name I had chosen on it. So had I not had my accident we would never have been going to the doctor on that day, had I not told Dash to keep driving that extra 1/2 block we wouldn't have gotten Mr. Calzone and I still can't explain the plate.
So many good things have happened since I hurt my knee it just amazes me. Looking back at it hind sight being what it is (20/20) I really believe I had to get hurt in order for the good things to come.
Sometimes even when you're down fate smiles.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Much Ado
My last post was 4 days before I took a header off my bicycle (no I wasn't wearing a helmet).
I may not have mentioned that I had been riding my bike or walking to work (during inclimate weather - read fucking BLIZZARDS) since I got the job back in November of '07. Mind you that work is only 4.5 km (2.75 miles) from home and took 20 minutes by bike on days without snow drifts.
Snow drifts = evil fucking city doesn't clear the side walks because sane people don't use them when it snows! On those days depending on the depth of said snow drift (with the added pleasure of heaping snow on the sidewalk from plowing the roads) it could take anywhere from 1.5 hours to 3 hours to walk there. And yes I did this 3 times that first year.
I'm sure you're sitting there wondering why I would do such a thing. Well techniclly the city I live in and the city I work in are 2 different cities and the line ends abruptly in the middle of a very steep "V" shaped bridge therefore the bus from my home city to my work city does not run across said line. A cab would cost me $12 one way (here's another pickle for you - the cab company from my home city will drop me off in my work city but will not pick me up there!)
Now I make a petty sum and my shifts run anywhere from 4 hours to 8 hours normally, it would take me 3 hours of work to make the round trip cab fair (you do the math). It really wasn't that bad even during the blizzards, I only cried during the last half hour of the last one.
Any-who back to my accident. I had just left work for the day a Sunday no less on the weekend Dash is away so he's just started his 4 hour trek back from Ottawa at the same time I head home. It was of him I was thinking as I got to the verge of that steep "V" shaped hill, crossing the last residential street for the next 10 minutes. The sidewalk that takes up on the other side has a nice 90 degree curve before the hill actually begins, on a busy thoroughfare.
The front tire goes off the sidewalk into the grass and along the curb, my body continues on a straight if airborne line. I'm not clear on the blow-by-blow but I think the back tire kicked up behind me launching my flight. What I do remember is that I became entangled in the bike at some point before stopping my forward momentum with my face. When I try to reconcile the physics with the aftermath I still don't understand how I ended up with the injury that debilitated me.
I felt my nose go up towards my forehead and my lip go down towards my chin and feeling the sand paper like cement along my right eye. The same sensation traveling through both palms of my hands and the pressure of my weight upon my knees. Eyes closed I begin to take stock in my mind of possible breaks and hurts, but I really can't feel much - adrenaline is a curious thing.
I start thinking about getting up slowly and it felt...
...you won't believe and I doubt I'll do it justice with words but ...
...it felt like my soul got up a full 10 seconds before the rest of me, like I was standing there with my hands on my knees looking at my body and yet unable to see it because I was standing there not laying there. Without actually feeling it my body did what my soul had done 10 seconds before. I remember thinking "I know I hit my head but it wasn't a solid blow and nothing hard enough to kill me so I'm not dead".
Once I'm up I start to notice that 2 vehicles have pulled over and 3 women have spewed out onto the roadside. I believe they were asking after my well-being but it was strangely silent, even the passing cars made no shoosh as they drove on by. I'm to busy taking inventory once more and still feeling nothing as I watch blood drip off my face and onto the sidewalk. I was sort of transfixed by those droplets and the pattern they made as they splattered to earth. And noticing that before I got up my head was even with the curb. Another 5 feet and I'd have been in traffic.
I remember telling the nice blonde lady that it looked worse than it felt while the other 2 women got Kleenex out of their car and one of them handing me a phone. Having left my own at home that day. The one day I forgot it, stupid how shit always seems to happen like that. I don't need my phone often nor use it often but the one time you need it you don't have it.
These women are asking if I need a ride to the hospital and I'm picking up the blasted bike and telling them I think I'll just walk home. That must not have been the case though because I hand the bike to the blonde lady who puts it in her jeep and I got into the passenger side and start to laugh.
Mumbling alll the way home and thanking her for her kindness. The blonde lady telling me her frantic story about having to drive to far until she could turn around because of the recently installed median. Saying she's scared because it'll take to long and I start to wonder how bad this little accident really looked because to tell by her voice and nervousness she thought I was dead or dying while she tried to get back to me.
In this day where most people are happily self-centered and willfully blind it is nice to know that there are still kind people in the world!
So I put the bike away, climb the stairs to the couch and lie down because the shakes have started. My daughter bless her has climbed the rest of the stairs and come back with alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, q-tips and band-aids and is cleaning me up (she's 13). Amazing creature I don't think I had a lot to do with the absolute wonderfulness that is my little Ladybug, but I love her! I lie there for an hour and the pain that wasn't has become mild throbbing, so I decide I'm hungry and get up to make it and something gives in my right knee. It felt like a fracture losing it's tenuous hold.
The pain is agonizing so I try to do that mind over matter thing as I watch (and this is no exaggeration) my knee slowly bloom into a cantaloupe sized ball just off to the left of the knee cap. I'm groaning and crying, my dad calls and is talking to my daughter who begin to joke that I'm being dramatic and causing my own pain while I search in vain for a position that doesn't hurt. At this point I deign it necessary to call Dash and request he hurry along. I don't know how he did it but he made a 3 hour trip into 1.5 hours.
I managed to find the place with no pain once we make it to the ER the Triage nurse asks me on a scale of 1 - 10 how bad the pain is and when I say zero she calls me a liar. This after giving me a lecture on the example I'm setting for my daughter by not wearing a helmet and it's always the second question everyone asks when I tell this story the first being, was a riding a motorcycle or a a bicycle?
I've come to believe the X-ray room was devised as a torture chamber for anyone stupid enough to be doing anything that might break a bone. Nothing broken so they wrap it and prescribe percocet for the pain. I'm happy and scared all at the same time, knee injuries are serious business aside from the fact that the Doc says no work for 2 weeks. This is a big problem in more ways than one - money first and at the time I was the only one with open availability so the boss had no one to cover and I'm blubbering about how I'm going to fix that, while my 2 dearly loved ones keep telling me now is not the time to think of others. Might as well ask me not to breath.
I spent the next 10 day sleeping on a mattress on my living room floor which was central to the bathroom, kitchen and TV. High on percs and bored as hell, daytime TV sucks. There are 4 staircases in my townhouse and I couldn't possibly negotiate those.
I did manage to go back to work after that but there were certain things I couldn't do and some I had to do sitting on the floor. After 4 days I went to see my family doctor who informed me that the Bursa (bag of fluid behind the knee) was filled with blood and he could A.) stick a needle in it and drain the fluid - which if not wrapped tightly and always for the next 30 days refill or B.) leave it alone and let it reabsorb naturally.
What kind of choices are these? I opted for natural and he prescribed more percs. How do people work on these? I put those on my nightstand and took Tylenol 1 with codine to get through the day and the percs so I could sleep. I am a stomach sleeper so imagine not being able to do that.
Now came the new problem - I can't ride my bike because my knee is sort of stuck at a 90 degree angle if I want no pain and a cab will cost $24 round trip everyday for 20 day that's @ $480 almost more than the measly bi-weekly paycheck.
Pictures to frighten and amaze - these were taken after the 10 days
And that would be the beginning of story 2 - Blubell
I may not have mentioned that I had been riding my bike or walking to work (during inclimate weather - read fucking BLIZZARDS) since I got the job back in November of '07. Mind you that work is only 4.5 km (2.75 miles) from home and took 20 minutes by bike on days without snow drifts.
Snow drifts = evil fucking city doesn't clear the side walks because sane people don't use them when it snows! On those days depending on the depth of said snow drift (with the added pleasure of heaping snow on the sidewalk from plowing the roads) it could take anywhere from 1.5 hours to 3 hours to walk there. And yes I did this 3 times that first year.
I'm sure you're sitting there wondering why I would do such a thing. Well techniclly the city I live in and the city I work in are 2 different cities and the line ends abruptly in the middle of a very steep "V" shaped bridge therefore the bus from my home city to my work city does not run across said line. A cab would cost me $12 one way (here's another pickle for you - the cab company from my home city will drop me off in my work city but will not pick me up there!)
Now I make a petty sum and my shifts run anywhere from 4 hours to 8 hours normally, it would take me 3 hours of work to make the round trip cab fair (you do the math). It really wasn't that bad even during the blizzards, I only cried during the last half hour of the last one.
Any-who back to my accident. I had just left work for the day a Sunday no less on the weekend Dash is away so he's just started his 4 hour trek back from Ottawa at the same time I head home. It was of him I was thinking as I got to the verge of that steep "V" shaped hill, crossing the last residential street for the next 10 minutes. The sidewalk that takes up on the other side has a nice 90 degree curve before the hill actually begins, on a busy thoroughfare.
The front tire goes off the sidewalk into the grass and along the curb, my body continues on a straight if airborne line. I'm not clear on the blow-by-blow but I think the back tire kicked up behind me launching my flight. What I do remember is that I became entangled in the bike at some point before stopping my forward momentum with my face. When I try to reconcile the physics with the aftermath I still don't understand how I ended up with the injury that debilitated me.
I felt my nose go up towards my forehead and my lip go down towards my chin and feeling the sand paper like cement along my right eye. The same sensation traveling through both palms of my hands and the pressure of my weight upon my knees. Eyes closed I begin to take stock in my mind of possible breaks and hurts, but I really can't feel much - adrenaline is a curious thing.
I start thinking about getting up slowly and it felt...
...you won't believe and I doubt I'll do it justice with words but ...
...it felt like my soul got up a full 10 seconds before the rest of me, like I was standing there with my hands on my knees looking at my body and yet unable to see it because I was standing there not laying there. Without actually feeling it my body did what my soul had done 10 seconds before. I remember thinking "I know I hit my head but it wasn't a solid blow and nothing hard enough to kill me so I'm not dead".
Once I'm up I start to notice that 2 vehicles have pulled over and 3 women have spewed out onto the roadside. I believe they were asking after my well-being but it was strangely silent, even the passing cars made no shoosh as they drove on by. I'm to busy taking inventory once more and still feeling nothing as I watch blood drip off my face and onto the sidewalk. I was sort of transfixed by those droplets and the pattern they made as they splattered to earth. And noticing that before I got up my head was even with the curb. Another 5 feet and I'd have been in traffic.
I remember telling the nice blonde lady that it looked worse than it felt while the other 2 women got Kleenex out of their car and one of them handing me a phone. Having left my own at home that day. The one day I forgot it, stupid how shit always seems to happen like that. I don't need my phone often nor use it often but the one time you need it you don't have it.
These women are asking if I need a ride to the hospital and I'm picking up the blasted bike and telling them I think I'll just walk home. That must not have been the case though because I hand the bike to the blonde lady who puts it in her jeep and I got into the passenger side and start to laugh.
Mumbling alll the way home and thanking her for her kindness. The blonde lady telling me her frantic story about having to drive to far until she could turn around because of the recently installed median. Saying she's scared because it'll take to long and I start to wonder how bad this little accident really looked because to tell by her voice and nervousness she thought I was dead or dying while she tried to get back to me.
In this day where most people are happily self-centered and willfully blind it is nice to know that there are still kind people in the world!
So I put the bike away, climb the stairs to the couch and lie down because the shakes have started. My daughter bless her has climbed the rest of the stairs and come back with alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, q-tips and band-aids and is cleaning me up (she's 13). Amazing creature I don't think I had a lot to do with the absolute wonderfulness that is my little Ladybug, but I love her! I lie there for an hour and the pain that wasn't has become mild throbbing, so I decide I'm hungry and get up to make it and something gives in my right knee. It felt like a fracture losing it's tenuous hold.
The pain is agonizing so I try to do that mind over matter thing as I watch (and this is no exaggeration) my knee slowly bloom into a cantaloupe sized ball just off to the left of the knee cap. I'm groaning and crying, my dad calls and is talking to my daughter who begin to joke that I'm being dramatic and causing my own pain while I search in vain for a position that doesn't hurt. At this point I deign it necessary to call Dash and request he hurry along. I don't know how he did it but he made a 3 hour trip into 1.5 hours.
I managed to find the place with no pain once we make it to the ER the Triage nurse asks me on a scale of 1 - 10 how bad the pain is and when I say zero she calls me a liar. This after giving me a lecture on the example I'm setting for my daughter by not wearing a helmet and it's always the second question everyone asks when I tell this story the first being, was a riding a motorcycle or a a bicycle?
I've come to believe the X-ray room was devised as a torture chamber for anyone stupid enough to be doing anything that might break a bone. Nothing broken so they wrap it and prescribe percocet for the pain. I'm happy and scared all at the same time, knee injuries are serious business aside from the fact that the Doc says no work for 2 weeks. This is a big problem in more ways than one - money first and at the time I was the only one with open availability so the boss had no one to cover and I'm blubbering about how I'm going to fix that, while my 2 dearly loved ones keep telling me now is not the time to think of others. Might as well ask me not to breath.
I spent the next 10 day sleeping on a mattress on my living room floor which was central to the bathroom, kitchen and TV. High on percs and bored as hell, daytime TV sucks. There are 4 staircases in my townhouse and I couldn't possibly negotiate those.
I did manage to go back to work after that but there were certain things I couldn't do and some I had to do sitting on the floor. After 4 days I went to see my family doctor who informed me that the Bursa (bag of fluid behind the knee) was filled with blood and he could A.) stick a needle in it and drain the fluid - which if not wrapped tightly and always for the next 30 days refill or B.) leave it alone and let it reabsorb naturally.
What kind of choices are these? I opted for natural and he prescribed more percs. How do people work on these? I put those on my nightstand and took Tylenol 1 with codine to get through the day and the percs so I could sleep. I am a stomach sleeper so imagine not being able to do that.
Now came the new problem - I can't ride my bike because my knee is sort of stuck at a 90 degree angle if I want no pain and a cab will cost $24 round trip everyday for 20 day that's @ $480 almost more than the measly bi-weekly paycheck.
Pictures to frighten and amaze - these were taken after the 10 days
And that would be the beginning of story 2 - Blubell
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