Sublingual ativan. Tonight is the first night I took one after my doctor prescribed them last Monday. It seems to be helping a ton. I had a really bad food reaction, probably because I haven't eaten very much in a few days and I went and gorged on greek food, which is harsh enough on a good day, and being within the context of the past week, I panicked pretty hardcore about it and in spite of the pacing and hiding, there wasn't much changing about the situation, so I decided to pop the ativan.
I thought, in the moments it was dissolving into a chalky, gritty, nasty residue under my tongue (and sticking to my bottom teeth a little), that I would die twofold- once because of the panic and once because of the textures that were going on in my mouth- but about ten minutes later, it was finally gone and curiously enough, it seems to be working. And I'm not particularly drowsy or anything. I don't even feel the weakness I was feeling from the panic and food reaction (food reactions make me so, so weak for a while after they occur). My vision is a little blurry, but that might be because I'm too lazy to focus.
All this makes me wonder if I really should just smoke weed. I bet with all my digesty things and panic things I could totally get a prescription for it too.
Anyway.
My guy is awesome though. He doesn't know what to do with me when I'm panicking. He tried to be affectionate and I rejected the shit out of him (I am an island of panic and anybody who lands on my island is strung up by the locals), but he figured it out, I think. He took care of the doggies and stopped asking me how I was and did his best to pretend he was indifferent, even if it's so easy to read worry on him. It was cute, if not panic-inducing. I don't know why other people's panic makes me panic so bad. It's like I have to hide my panic or they'll make it worse with theirs or something. But it's not even panic. It's just concern. (Theirs, I mean.)
Anyway, he's really sweet to take care of me in whatever way I need, even if that way is staying away.
I think the ativan is making me a little more ADD than usual.
Hard to tell though because I'm usually quite ADD.
Speaking of ADD, my guy and I watched this bit of documentary film with Louis Theroux called "America's Medicated Kids" and it was pretty awesome. I don't know why I wasn't put on meds or thrown into treatment when I was young and I'm kind of glad I wasn't treated as a problem. I was telling my guy yesterday after seeing the kid in that doc who is deemed OCD and medicated like crazy because he refuses to wear a poofy coat and some shoes and I remember my babysitter, Mrs Spes, bought me construction boots, probably in grade 1 and I refused to wear them. They were light suede and now, if I had them, I'd totally wear them, but back then, I was in love with my white velcro size 12s and these boots were size 1. I took them to school with me one day, probably because I was forced to do so, and I remember vividly looking down at the inside of the heel and seeing the 1 stamped at the bottom of it. I just couldn't wear them. I crumpled them into my little cubby hole and didn't touch them till the spring when it was time to go home for the summer (my dad was there to clean out my cubby with me and found the boots). I'm not sure I ever wore a size one. I think I skipped one and went from my twelves straight to the two, but I'm not sure.
I also remember a time at the Arundel Natural Science Center (we'd go there every year) when I didn't bring my winter jacket. I brought my dad's. I was probably about six or seven and when the lady teachers saw me walking around in this huge coat, they were somehow upset by it and tried to get me to wear this girl Amanda's coat. I refused. Wholeheartedly. With tears, public ones, which never used to happen. I remember my best friend at the time peaking through the frenzy of teachers, looking at me with a sort of confused pity. I don't know if she'd ever seen me cry up till then. Anyway, they ended up calling my dad and having him bring my coat.
My point is, if I was born to these parents, they wouldn't have been so accommodating. I probably would have been drugged and spent half my day in therapy instead of doing normal things normal kids do at school. Would I have been better off in therapy? Maybe. But definitely not drugged into a monotonous stupor, that's for sure.
Some parts of my weirdness were stifled, and other parts weren't, and still other parts were treated with compassion. I wasn't seen as OCD or defective. I was seen as picky and probably with a very visible lump of quiet sadness. I don't remember anybody really yelling at me or treating me badly for my stuff. I remember confusion, mostly. On their part, not mine. They'd become flabbergasted with me, but ultimately, I suppose I was a really, really sensitive kid, so they learned to pick their battles, I guess.
[Somewhere in there, I paused for a ridiculous amount of time to look at cars. I totally want a new car now. Not a new new car, but a new used car. One I don't have to worry about again. But I still owe a shit ton on this car still, so too bad.]
Back to the panic.
I don't know what would have been different if my panic had been addressed really early on in my life. Somehow, I think the only difference would be in the emetophobia. If I hadn't thrown up so often when I was young, I probably wouldn't be so worried about it now. My poor dad. Shit, eh?
Anyway, I haven't panicked in a long time, really, and I think Friday was the first time I paced in years (and I did it again today). I do have a lot on my plate right now, but the trigger was my guy getting sick. Now that he's better, even if I'm not (I thought I was, but no...) and now that I know what the ativan does, hopefully I'll be able to calm down. But there is a lot of stuff lately that is worrisome. Here's a list that probably won't be so brief:
- Money.
I don't usually worry about money, but with my job relatively up in the air and completely unstable, my car getting older, my dogs getting older and the wedding, I am worrying more. There are a lot of things that need to be bought before the wedding, things for the wedding, like bookshelves so my house isn't saturated with boxes, and things just for living, like summer tires for the car because my tires are absolutely cooked to the point where the inside stringies are coming out.
We's spent so much on this wedding already and it feels like we have nothing to show for it... probably because we're not married yet. And I haven't actually invited anybody yet. And by the end of all this, we'll have spent more than I currently owe on my line of credit (i.e. we're blowing a sum that is the equivalent to the debt that's been looming over me for four years).
- The wedding.
What if I panic so bad I can't do it? And it's not a psych myself out question either. This is a very probable scenario. My guy's answer, "They'll all just have to wait till you're ok, that's all." Maybe, as I pound back drugs. Otherwise, the pressure of them waiting will kill me more.
There are some instances in my life when I should have been terrified and I wasn't. Like superpipe camp. Nineteen coaches, pro snowboarders at that, veterans even, teaching me how to ride halfpipe. Scary, right? Living in a hut 5000m (or feet?) above sea level with no way to get down off the mountain but by snowcat, which only came twice a day. Scary. But I kicked ass at that camp. I was driven and determined and ready and focused. I'd been preparing for that for four years at least. Maybe longer. This? No.
I kind of regret not being a little girl dreamer right now. I do. I mean, I was a dreamer, but just not the little girl kind. I never dreamed of getting married. The closest I ever came to it was pasting my head on a bride's body and my ex's head on a groom's body as a joke. That freaked the shit out of him, like I was some kind of stalker with absurd expectations. But hey, everybody was getting married around me, so some of it was bound to rub off. It just didn't stick is all.
As he lies there, sprawled out beside me, I can't help but love him. He takes care of me and things, but I swear I have never had boundaries so high as I do in this relationship. It's like he knows me so well because I've let him have access to everything, but there's this part of me that is vaulted. And honestly, it's a fucking shitty vault. It's like a vault of cynicism. It's like I'm swimming with one foot on the shore, but you can't possibly do that, so it's like I have to actively swim back to the shore, put my foot on it for a while and then eventually, I forget and swim out too far again. All the while, when I'm completely detached, I have this idea in my head that I'm not. I have this idea that I'm still clinging onto something really hard while swimming out.
As if it won't hurt me if he up and leaves at this point. As if I've managed to shelter myself enough to block out whatever bad might happen. As if these boundaries have served any beneficial purpose or anything other than self-sabotage.
I could be daydreaming about growing old with him and having that relationship where we're old and wrinkly and still giggly in public. I wish I could have those daydreams. They're the only things blocked out by these boundaries. The good things.
I think the walls came down a little while he was gone. The haze too. I'm way less hazy these days, probably partly because of the panic. But at the same time, I think different walls went up. Old walls.
I do need him. I need him in my life. It feels like my life is on hold when he's not here. No, not even. It feels like my life has regressed to two years ago when he's not here. When he left for Toronto, there was a part of me that opened back up, the panicky, unsettled part and I haven't been with him all that much since then and I think that panicky, unsettled part is still open. It explains why I couldn't panic in front of him today, why I needed him to block me out. He used to be my rock and somehow, in the past three weeks, I forgot that. Somehow, I went back to this frame of mind where I believe he can't handle me and the scary parts that come with me. But he can, as was evidenced tonight. He can and that's why I'm marrying him. He knows all the worst things about me and knows what to do with them.
Without getting too graphic, I think the ultimate regression today was using the downstairs bathroom for my panicking instead of staying up here. I haven't done that in months. I forgot that I'm allowed to be utterly humiliated in front of this guy and it not matter at all. It may not sound like it, but that's a pretty comforting notion.
- Work.
I have to start a project, but in the meantime, I have to do my work, and it's getting harder and harder with every week that goes by. At this point, I think my boss and I are completely unattached. We're professional acquaintances going our separate ways, I think. And that's fine, but for the time being, it feels like living with an ex after the breakup. It's awkward and there's this underlying icky tension.
I have to get my stuff going. I've been dragging my feet about getting the editing/translation site up once and for all, but for some reason, this other project I have in mind has sparked an interest in me right now, so I'm going to try to run with it till I lose interest or till it's successful, whichever comes first. If I do follow through, which, I'll admit, is not my forte, It really would be work I believe in and that could produce good in the world. That's all I want right now. I want to do something worthwhile. So we'll see.
So it doesn't all sound stressful, but tie it in with the money part and add some unsettledness in it and voilà! Panicky. Plus I don't want my guy to be disappointed in me either because I'm a shitty slacker with no work ethic.
- Doggies.
Being sick strains me in the doggy department. He brought them for a walk yesterday and we both brought them today, but man, the guilt of them having such boring lives was getting to me. And Boo's so slow these days too, like tired and sad, so that freaks me out too. Like, what, he's going to die soon and we're holed up in this shack of boring? Poor fucking dog. :( We need more adventures. Holy shit, let's go on an adventure tomorrow. Fuck yeah. Let's fucking go. Fourteen degrees Celsius and sunny? FUCK YEAH. Adventure time. Seriously.
I like ativan.
I have other stuff to worry about too (tons!) but I'm going to bed so I can have adventures tomorrow. Also, this ativan totally didn't make me sleepy. I'm the same as usual for 3AM. Huh. So then the main side effect for me will be.... addiction? Luckily he only gave me ten.
Goodnight!
Monday, 19 March, 2012
Sunday, 18 March, 2012
Quick ramblies because somebody's going to wake me up in about four hours...*
I'm going to sleep, but since my guy reads this in the morning before getting out of bed thereby making every word a prolongation of my sleep, I figured I'd blog.
So tonight, I voted for Nathan Cullen for the NDP leadership race. In the end, I think his policies best suit my ideas for the future and it helped that he answered a question I asked him on Twitter really quickly (that was pretty awesome) and it helped to hear him speak for two hours on the town hall by phone thing that happened a couple of weeks ago and it helped that when I put an "open to suggestions" call out on twitter, everything that came back was for Cullen except one tweet, which was for Nash. It helped too that he has the support of Roy Henry Vickers, an artist I was exposed to when I was really young. And I'll admit it, it did help to know that he was held hostage while working for rain forest preservation. All in all, I think if he wins, I might really believe in him, so here's hoping. If somebody else wins, well, nothing I can do about that, but still, this is the NDP here, so we're not talking about anybody particularly terrible.
Can I just throw this out there, without malice or any intentions or bias or whatever? This race seems to have brought up questions about who supports Israel or not and frankly, I just don't get it. My guy tried to explain some things to me today, but still, at the end of the day, I don't get it. Maybe one day, somebody will be able to explain it to me so I see both sides clearly. If that's possible.
Anyway.
In other news, we're what? *counts* Day 12 after Littles' surgery? Is that right? And she somehow made her fatty tumor incision bleed. Wtf. She's got mad self-destructive skills. Her ass tumor seems to be nearly healed though, so yey for that.
Meanwhile, Boo is really gurgly. I think I'll have to give him probiotics for a bit. Somehow, he's been disrupted in recent days, probably on account of me sleeping downstairs one night in a panic, my guy sleeping in the basement for a few days while I panicked s'more and then my guy staying at his parents' house while I panicked yet more. But we're back to normal now, so hopefully he'll settle too. He feeds off my panic so much and so easily.
I had a shower just now, before starting this blog and on top of realizing I had three songs stuck in my head (For the benefit of Mr Kite, How can you be sure? and Ghosts- what the hey kind of a selection is that? And there may have been others too, but I can't remember), I realized that I didn't feel so shitty anymore, which is cool. I have a sore throat now though, which scares me, but my panic isn't so bad right now, which is awesome and my migraine from this morning is gone, which is awesome. The only thing not awesome (aside from the throat) is how I'm so fricken hot right now.
Speaking of which, my doctor didn't call yesterday, which can either mean my bloods were normal or my bloods aren't in yet, in which case, he'll call me Monday or Tuesday. Something on my last blood test bugs me though. I distinctly saw an H (for high) above a 3.14. He said everything was normal, which probably means whatever it was wasn't that significant (I'm thinking cholesterol? My cholesterol is always high, but both tend to be high so supposedly they cancel each other out). Anyway, I guess I'll ask next time I'm there, which hopefully will only be in May.
What else?
Yes. There's a new show on tv with Ashley Judd and I was bored and my guy was sleeping so I streamed it and it's like lady Jason Bourne. So yeah, new favorite show, even if the initial bits to set the premise were weird. I normally don't peddle tv shows (Mentalist!), but yeah, she's all full of kickassery, so yey.
I think that's it.
Goodnight.
*But I love him to death and I'm so fricken glad he's home and he's been really sexy while he was sleeping all evening, so... like... I'm a lucky girl, even if he brings home diseases that freak me out sometimes. Well, they freak me out all the time, but he only brings them home sometimes. Anyway, the point is, he's sexy. He really is the only guy I've been attracted to without pretending. It's fucking awesome. I, like, catch a glimpse of him in the light of my laptop and he's so fricken pretty. Man pretty. But sometimes, I just want to bite him a little. Not to hurt him or anything, but just because there's nothing else that's remotely reasonable to serve as an outlet for how yummy he is. I totally want to marry the shit out of his ass. :D Ok, goodnight.
So tonight, I voted for Nathan Cullen for the NDP leadership race. In the end, I think his policies best suit my ideas for the future and it helped that he answered a question I asked him on Twitter really quickly (that was pretty awesome) and it helped to hear him speak for two hours on the town hall by phone thing that happened a couple of weeks ago and it helped that when I put an "open to suggestions" call out on twitter, everything that came back was for Cullen except one tweet, which was for Nash. It helped too that he has the support of Roy Henry Vickers, an artist I was exposed to when I was really young. And I'll admit it, it did help to know that he was held hostage while working for rain forest preservation. All in all, I think if he wins, I might really believe in him, so here's hoping. If somebody else wins, well, nothing I can do about that, but still, this is the NDP here, so we're not talking about anybody particularly terrible.
Can I just throw this out there, without malice or any intentions or bias or whatever? This race seems to have brought up questions about who supports Israel or not and frankly, I just don't get it. My guy tried to explain some things to me today, but still, at the end of the day, I don't get it. Maybe one day, somebody will be able to explain it to me so I see both sides clearly. If that's possible.
Anyway.
In other news, we're what? *counts* Day 12 after Littles' surgery? Is that right? And she somehow made her fatty tumor incision bleed. Wtf. She's got mad self-destructive skills. Her ass tumor seems to be nearly healed though, so yey for that.
Meanwhile, Boo is really gurgly. I think I'll have to give him probiotics for a bit. Somehow, he's been disrupted in recent days, probably on account of me sleeping downstairs one night in a panic, my guy sleeping in the basement for a few days while I panicked s'more and then my guy staying at his parents' house while I panicked yet more. But we're back to normal now, so hopefully he'll settle too. He feeds off my panic so much and so easily.
I had a shower just now, before starting this blog and on top of realizing I had three songs stuck in my head (For the benefit of Mr Kite, How can you be sure? and Ghosts- what the hey kind of a selection is that? And there may have been others too, but I can't remember), I realized that I didn't feel so shitty anymore, which is cool. I have a sore throat now though, which scares me, but my panic isn't so bad right now, which is awesome and my migraine from this morning is gone, which is awesome. The only thing not awesome (aside from the throat) is how I'm so fricken hot right now.
Speaking of which, my doctor didn't call yesterday, which can either mean my bloods were normal or my bloods aren't in yet, in which case, he'll call me Monday or Tuesday. Something on my last blood test bugs me though. I distinctly saw an H (for high) above a 3.14. He said everything was normal, which probably means whatever it was wasn't that significant (I'm thinking cholesterol? My cholesterol is always high, but both tend to be high so supposedly they cancel each other out). Anyway, I guess I'll ask next time I'm there, which hopefully will only be in May.
What else?
Yes. There's a new show on tv with Ashley Judd and I was bored and my guy was sleeping so I streamed it and it's like lady Jason Bourne. So yeah, new favorite show, even if the initial bits to set the premise were weird. I normally don't peddle tv shows (Mentalist!), but yeah, she's all full of kickassery, so yey.
I think that's it.
Goodnight.
*But I love him to death and I'm so fricken glad he's home and he's been really sexy while he was sleeping all evening, so... like... I'm a lucky girl, even if he brings home diseases that freak me out sometimes. Well, they freak me out all the time, but he only brings them home sometimes. Anyway, the point is, he's sexy. He really is the only guy I've been attracted to without pretending. It's fucking awesome. I, like, catch a glimpse of him in the light of my laptop and he's so fricken pretty. Man pretty. But sometimes, I just want to bite him a little. Not to hurt him or anything, but just because there's nothing else that's remotely reasonable to serve as an outlet for how yummy he is. I totally want to marry the shit out of his ass. :D Ok, goodnight.
Saturday, 17 March, 2012
Littski McBarky
Barking is annoying, but at the same time, I wish she felt free enough to express herself sometimes, you know? She barks so much in her dreams and in recent memory, only barked one time, only one bark, at a seagull, while we waited for my guy at the train station earlier this week. I wonder what she's dreaming of that's so terrible. And why she dreams it nearly every night, multiple times.
(But it is pretty fricken cute.)
(And yes, I'm still awake.)
(But it is pretty fricken cute.)
(And yes, I'm still awake.)
Early morning late night ramblies...
It's foggy outside. (They don't really click bigger on account of preserving my space on here. :D)
In other news, this afternoon, I ended up with the sickees, but it only lasted a few hours, just long enough to spook me into making my guy sleep at his parents' house. I think because I'm alone, I'm okish, but if he'd been here, I wouldn't be... If that makes any sense. Right now, I'm not panicking about being sick is what I mean. And honestly, having a bottle of quick-dissolve ativan really helps with that. Just knowing they're there is kind of nice. It's all fine and good to say if you trust in God, you won't panic, but when you're scared of things that your own body goes through, that's kind of catastrophically hard to do.
I managed to eat broth and some chocolate (what?) and that's ok, minus the parts where my innards ache a little.
'Nuff about that.
It's really not that bad though.
If you know what I mean.
I didn't finish my work this week. It feels like I did... But I didn't. The upside is I get to sleep in tomorrow because my guy's at his parents' and his dad's driving him to work, which is kinda nice for me since he wakes up at the crack of ass anyway, whereas I'd probably be... um... leaving... right now. Which I guess would have worked out, minus the aforementioned pains and the fact that I'm exhausted but slightly panicky. I'm only up right now because of the panic. And the short nap between something like four and seven tonight with a couple of breaks to call my guy to tell him I miss him.
It feels like I haven't seen him in two weeks. But actually, it's getting closer to three, which is ridiculous. Stupid sickees. Stupid phobias.
Also, I think I got hit on twice today from the comfort of my own home, but I'm pretending neither happened because otherwise, I'll just be cynical. If it did happen, one was hoping in that moment that my relationship would fail (because obviously, I'm his "one") and the other doesn't know I'm in a relationship and probably wouldn't have asked me the things he did if he knew that I was. Not that they were anything bad, but just that guys generally don't ask girls anything at all unless there's some sort of motive behind it. Especially not mundane things that require long answers that may or may not be mopey.
I'm starting to worry about my hair and make up for the wedding. I don't know what to do about that. My hair person and I don't seem to be meshing right now and she doesn't work Fridays or Saturdays (I think), so... like... I don't know.
And somehow, I got stuck watching a really long slideshow my friend's wifey put together of their twins' first year and it was the sappiest, sweetest slideshow ever, and made me want babies, but then I pictured myself holding a baby and you know that feeling you have about a half hour after you nearly crash your car? It's like a weak adrenaliney shaky feeling? That's how I feel when I hold babies. Uncomfortable. Near-car crash uncomfortable. It's like everybody in the room knows I'm not cut out to hold babies. Like I'm too rigid or something. Not floofy enough. Not mooshy. My guy knows it's not true in general, but around babies, I kind of stiffen up and just not fit.
Anyway, I'm uploading a video to youtube, but it's got like an hour left or some crap, so fuck that shit.
Goodnight.
I can't wait to see my boyfriend tomorrow. Finally. And I'm not the only one too. Jemma disappeared earlier and I found her hiding in the bathroom downstairs near the bedsheets he took off the bed he slept on all week when he was a sickee (she slept beside him all week too; it was really cute). I had to bribe her with an estrogen pill and promises that he'd come home tomorrow and stay forever to get her to come back upstairs. She was so sad. :( Poor doggy.
Goodnight!
I managed to eat broth and some chocolate (what?) and that's ok, minus the parts where my innards ache a little.
'Nuff about that.
It's really not that bad though.
If you know what I mean.
I didn't finish my work this week. It feels like I did... But I didn't. The upside is I get to sleep in tomorrow because my guy's at his parents' and his dad's driving him to work, which is kinda nice for me since he wakes up at the crack of ass anyway, whereas I'd probably be... um... leaving... right now. Which I guess would have worked out, minus the aforementioned pains and the fact that I'm exhausted but slightly panicky. I'm only up right now because of the panic. And the short nap between something like four and seven tonight with a couple of breaks to call my guy to tell him I miss him.
It feels like I haven't seen him in two weeks. But actually, it's getting closer to three, which is ridiculous. Stupid sickees. Stupid phobias.
Also, I think I got hit on twice today from the comfort of my own home, but I'm pretending neither happened because otherwise, I'll just be cynical. If it did happen, one was hoping in that moment that my relationship would fail (because obviously, I'm his "one") and the other doesn't know I'm in a relationship and probably wouldn't have asked me the things he did if he knew that I was. Not that they were anything bad, but just that guys generally don't ask girls anything at all unless there's some sort of motive behind it. Especially not mundane things that require long answers that may or may not be mopey.
I'm starting to worry about my hair and make up for the wedding. I don't know what to do about that. My hair person and I don't seem to be meshing right now and she doesn't work Fridays or Saturdays (I think), so... like... I don't know.
And somehow, I got stuck watching a really long slideshow my friend's wifey put together of their twins' first year and it was the sappiest, sweetest slideshow ever, and made me want babies, but then I pictured myself holding a baby and you know that feeling you have about a half hour after you nearly crash your car? It's like a weak adrenaliney shaky feeling? That's how I feel when I hold babies. Uncomfortable. Near-car crash uncomfortable. It's like everybody in the room knows I'm not cut out to hold babies. Like I'm too rigid or something. Not floofy enough. Not mooshy. My guy knows it's not true in general, but around babies, I kind of stiffen up and just not fit.
Anyway, I'm uploading a video to youtube, but it's got like an hour left or some crap, so fuck that shit.
Goodnight.
I can't wait to see my boyfriend tomorrow. Finally. And I'm not the only one too. Jemma disappeared earlier and I found her hiding in the bathroom downstairs near the bedsheets he took off the bed he slept on all week when he was a sickee (she slept beside him all week too; it was really cute). I had to bribe her with an estrogen pill and promises that he'd come home tomorrow and stay forever to get her to come back upstairs. She was so sad. :( Poor doggy.
Goodnight!
Friday, 16 March, 2012
Ramblies numbered for organizational purposes...
Alright, I'm fiendishly behind in my work so I'll make this quick.
1. I need a new career path. I feel like my blogging has suffered greatly because the only thing that is on my mind every time I blog is this "I hate my job" mantra and it's kind of crushing. This just isn't the right fit. Sitting here researching the demographics of the various neighborhoods of Ottawa is not my bag.
Speaking of bag, when I was fourteen or so, I went to Ottawa with my dad and his girlfriend (maybe fifteen?) and somehow, somewhere along the way, my bag got lost. Keep in mind here, we drove. My bag was neither at home nor in the car. It vanished. And so, I had to wear the same clothes all weekend and on top of that, being a noob at the lady things, I was in mad trouble there too. It was not a fun weekend and ever since then, I've hated Ottawa passionately. And now I have to sit here and figure out where all the chillens be? Fuck that.
Fuck. That.
2. I want to change the worrrrllllld. I don't know how though. I'm so tired all the time.
3. I think I'm voting for Nathan Cullen in the NDP leadership thing. His stance on raw materials in Canada kind of got me. I passively listened to the town hall thing on the phone (they call you and you listen in) and he was talking about how it should not be cheap to export our raw materials, that we should manufacture everything here instead and ship out products rather than dirt cheap resources. And I do agree with that. Whether it's oil or wood or whatever, I think we'd benefit from refining the stuff ourselves.
If you think about it, when we were buying the wood flooring for this house, there were two options that were available as "from Quebec": one was wood cut in Quebec and machined in Quebec and the other was wood cut in Quebec, sent to China to be machined and shipped back here. The latter was cheaper, obviously, but lower in quality on account of the humidity in transit, and we just wanted to support Quebec. So that's what we did. But that should be the only option. We shouldn't have a cheaper option that cuts out our own manufacturing sector. And yes, life would be more expensive, but we wouldn't know it because we wouldn't have these cheap laborers working in crazy horrible conditions undercutting our prices.
Will people buy our products? Theoretically, if our resources are invaluable, so would the products be if we cut off the cheap resources.
Wishful thinking? Maybe, but it's better than what's going on right now in the government where we're paying $130 a barrel for oil while we ship everything to the US to be refined at $70 a barrel. That's just pathetic. That's whoring out our resources is what that is- at the expense of our economy, our citizens and our families.
Anyhoo. He had a pajillion other excellent points that totally blindsided me, but that was the one that stuck out since my dad and I talk about it all the time anyway.
3. Boo threw up yesterday, but today, he seems fine. Although, the few days Littles was on Rimadyl made me wonder if all three of them should be on that all the time.
I fucking love those bastards.
4. I'm totally doing a Pinterest wedding registry. And I think this weekend is invite finalizing weekend. My guy's working Saturday and unless I go snowboarding (I HAVEN'T GONE YET AND MONDAY WILL BE 22C!), I will be free to finish the shit.
5. What else?
6. For some reason, numbering my topics seems to be helping me get more flow, oddly enough.
7. Till now.
8. One thing I hate about doing internet research for work on my laptop is that every time I do it, I end up getting malware or a trojan horse (today, my guy got the malware while trying to help me on his laptop and I got the trojan horse) and you know she's not going to help pay if there are bad damages.
9. Deep breaths.
10. An intern starts when school ends. Coincidentally, my work hours will likely dwindle greatly in May. Baffling.
11. It is fucking great to have my guy back in my bed again. I just want to squeeze him till I get yelled at. Like every two minutes. Granted, I still fear that he's contagious and I'm incubating, but still! I miss his ass. Lots.
12. Time to make tea and keep working on this crap that's going nowhere. Why the hell is every neighborhood map of Ottawa completely different than all the others? Useless.
13. Montreal's not so bad, in spite of somebody writing a blog to the contrary a couple years ago. *ahem*
14. My guy asked, "What kind of person decides to do that?" in a conversation about Jane Goodall. And I said, "Really? What do you think I'd do if I had the chance to sit outside in -40C with pengies?" And he answered, "Yeah, but at least pengies are pretty awesome." I can't argue with that. Makes me wonder though after having a conversation on twitter about the NDP with a wildlife biologist who is living in the Yukon protecting endangered animals. Why can't I do that sort of thing? Why can't I do something that means something to me?
15. I have a two year old project I have to get cracking on. Asap. I think the only people who know about it are SIL A and my bro and my dad. But now's the time, I think. I think so. I just need to track down the drawings my bro did for me two years ago because I don't seem to have them. I have the first drafts but I know he changed them after that.
16. And there's a children's book I have to write. And I needed an artist to draw it for me, but maybe I can draw it myself? Afterall, the subject of the book is one of the three things I can draw myself. I think. I haven't done it since high school. But in high school, I practiced a ton. (On desks, mostly.)
[Pause for drawing pictures because nothing I ever say will be quick actually ends up quick...]
What I learned from this endeavor is that in drawing vampires and monsters on desks all through high school and never drawing penguins (because then they'd know who was drawing on the desks), I lost my ability to draw penguins. :D
*Copyright Prin. (i.e. please don't steel my drawings because they're the only drawings I know how to draw. :D)
In grade eleven in the mixed media visual arts class I took, I made a cartoon where the vampire ate the head off of... wait. Lemme see if I can draw that guy still!
He was like Beaker, but more grown up. So he was standing there with his hands in his pockets because I can't draw hands (admit it, you didn't notice that the monster didn't have hands either) and the vampire floated towards him and gradually opened his mouth and ate Beaker-like man's head off. In twenty-four frames. And then you'd spin this little contraption and see it happen. It was magical. I got a really high mark on that project.
Considering I can't draw, I am kind of proud of my three and a half things I can draw. :D
Ok, back to work, for reals.
1. I need a new career path. I feel like my blogging has suffered greatly because the only thing that is on my mind every time I blog is this "I hate my job" mantra and it's kind of crushing. This just isn't the right fit. Sitting here researching the demographics of the various neighborhoods of Ottawa is not my bag.
Speaking of bag, when I was fourteen or so, I went to Ottawa with my dad and his girlfriend (maybe fifteen?) and somehow, somewhere along the way, my bag got lost. Keep in mind here, we drove. My bag was neither at home nor in the car. It vanished. And so, I had to wear the same clothes all weekend and on top of that, being a noob at the lady things, I was in mad trouble there too. It was not a fun weekend and ever since then, I've hated Ottawa passionately. And now I have to sit here and figure out where all the chillens be? Fuck that.
Fuck. That.
2. I want to change the worrrrllllld. I don't know how though. I'm so tired all the time.
3. I think I'm voting for Nathan Cullen in the NDP leadership thing. His stance on raw materials in Canada kind of got me. I passively listened to the town hall thing on the phone (they call you and you listen in) and he was talking about how it should not be cheap to export our raw materials, that we should manufacture everything here instead and ship out products rather than dirt cheap resources. And I do agree with that. Whether it's oil or wood or whatever, I think we'd benefit from refining the stuff ourselves.
If you think about it, when we were buying the wood flooring for this house, there were two options that were available as "from Quebec": one was wood cut in Quebec and machined in Quebec and the other was wood cut in Quebec, sent to China to be machined and shipped back here. The latter was cheaper, obviously, but lower in quality on account of the humidity in transit, and we just wanted to support Quebec. So that's what we did. But that should be the only option. We shouldn't have a cheaper option that cuts out our own manufacturing sector. And yes, life would be more expensive, but we wouldn't know it because we wouldn't have these cheap laborers working in crazy horrible conditions undercutting our prices.
Will people buy our products? Theoretically, if our resources are invaluable, so would the products be if we cut off the cheap resources.
Wishful thinking? Maybe, but it's better than what's going on right now in the government where we're paying $130 a barrel for oil while we ship everything to the US to be refined at $70 a barrel. That's just pathetic. That's whoring out our resources is what that is- at the expense of our economy, our citizens and our families.
Anyhoo. He had a pajillion other excellent points that totally blindsided me, but that was the one that stuck out since my dad and I talk about it all the time anyway.
3. Boo threw up yesterday, but today, he seems fine. Although, the few days Littles was on Rimadyl made me wonder if all three of them should be on that all the time.
I fucking love those bastards.
4. I'm totally doing a Pinterest wedding registry. And I think this weekend is invite finalizing weekend. My guy's working Saturday and unless I go snowboarding (I HAVEN'T GONE YET AND MONDAY WILL BE 22C!), I will be free to finish the shit.
5. What else?
6. For some reason, numbering my topics seems to be helping me get more flow, oddly enough.
7. Till now.
8. One thing I hate about doing internet research for work on my laptop is that every time I do it, I end up getting malware or a trojan horse (today, my guy got the malware while trying to help me on his laptop and I got the trojan horse) and you know she's not going to help pay if there are bad damages.
9. Deep breaths.
10. An intern starts when school ends. Coincidentally, my work hours will likely dwindle greatly in May. Baffling.
11. It is fucking great to have my guy back in my bed again. I just want to squeeze him till I get yelled at. Like every two minutes. Granted, I still fear that he's contagious and I'm incubating, but still! I miss his ass. Lots.
12. Time to make tea and keep working on this crap that's going nowhere. Why the hell is every neighborhood map of Ottawa completely different than all the others? Useless.
13. Montreal's not so bad, in spite of somebody writing a blog to the contrary a couple years ago. *ahem*
14. My guy asked, "What kind of person decides to do that?" in a conversation about Jane Goodall. And I said, "Really? What do you think I'd do if I had the chance to sit outside in -40C with pengies?" And he answered, "Yeah, but at least pengies are pretty awesome." I can't argue with that. Makes me wonder though after having a conversation on twitter about the NDP with a wildlife biologist who is living in the Yukon protecting endangered animals. Why can't I do that sort of thing? Why can't I do something that means something to me?
15. I have a two year old project I have to get cracking on. Asap. I think the only people who know about it are SIL A and my bro and my dad. But now's the time, I think. I think so. I just need to track down the drawings my bro did for me two years ago because I don't seem to have them. I have the first drafts but I know he changed them after that.
16. And there's a children's book I have to write. And I needed an artist to draw it for me, but maybe I can draw it myself? Afterall, the subject of the book is one of the three things I can draw myself. I think. I haven't done it since high school. But in high school, I practiced a ton. (On desks, mostly.)
[Pause for drawing pictures because nothing I ever say will be quick actually ends up quick...]
What I learned from this endeavor is that in drawing vampires and monsters on desks all through high school and never drawing penguins (because then they'd know who was drawing on the desks), I lost my ability to draw penguins. :D
In grade eleven in the mixed media visual arts class I took, I made a cartoon where the vampire ate the head off of... wait. Lemme see if I can draw that guy still!
Considering I can't draw, I am kind of proud of my three and a half things I can draw. :D
Ok, back to work, for reals.
Thursday, 15 March, 2012
Ramblies and bad things and things...
I hid in the basement all night last night and this morning, after driving the scary sickee to the train, I hertelled everything he touched and then bleached everything he touched (at least twice) and I changed the sheets (which sucked because I'd just changed them yesterday) and I fell asleep peacefully as the house smelled gloriously of bleach.
Except that I had endless nightmares all morning.
One involved my guy and his dad holding me hostage. It was like we were just all living in the house together nicely, but I couldn't leave. They were nice to me until I tried to escape and then things got violent and scary. I broke into the garage and tried to escape with my car, but I wasn't fast enough so I hid in the back seat on the floor behind the front seats, under the folded down seats. In real life I always hate that part in movies where they're running to the car and they're fumbling with the keys and the scary person is coming and there's just not enough time because somebody's chasing you at a faster speed than you're moving as you unlock the things and try to start the car.
[I should totally practice, just in case...]
Anyway, so then I'm hiding and he's in the garage looking for me and I'm waiting for the Criminal Minds guys to burst through the door and save me, but they're just not coming. I think he broke a car window and I screamed and then Boo woke me up by throwing up on my vacuum cleaner hose.
Anyway, I figure it's a future thing. In the dream, my guy was happy and light and didn't really know what was going on and his dad was more confining and controlling. Right now, my guy is light and happy but who knows how he'll be later? Apparently, my subconscious thinks he'll be scary and trap me. My car, in my life in general, tends to be a symbol of freedom.
They also say that significant others in your dreams are not them, but a representation of your masculine side. And I guess that would also make sense because in the case of this wedding, my masculine side is rather confining. It's the part of me, I think, that never thought I'd ever get married and can't seem to let that go. As if it's some sort of weakness to get married. A failure, even.
Or maybe I'm reading too far into it and my subconscious really, really doesn't appreciate it when I watch Criminal Minds.
I still haven't gotten over this wedding thing though. I suppose most people have a lifetime to wonder and imagine about it and I didn't really have that, so now it's like this out of nowhere thing. I look at some of the girls on pinterest and they're like fifteen and have wedding boards up and are all dreaming about everything. That was so not me. At fifteen, I didn't even have a boy on the horizon. To be honest, I was more into mastering my own body rather than attempting to trust anybody else with it. *shrugs*
Who knew that much independence could be a bad thing?
Side note: I kind of like this dress, but not for the wedding. Just for wearing. In like a raspberry color or a blue or even black. Or white even. (Apparently, the real version of that dress is $549....)
Also, my laptop is overheating.
And it's funny how I'm fairly severely emetophobic but for some reason, probably because my guy never really gets sick, I'm not nearly as panicky about it this time as I usually am. Don't get me wrong, I'm still barely functional and I still am running around bleaching everything, but I'm not fetal and shaking and incomprehensible. I still managed to make him soup twice today and I even ate a half a bowl of cereal and some toast. That never happens. Ever. That's not to say I'm not still terrified, but I think between realizing I can't control everything and that I actually miss this guy when he's relegated to the basement, I can kind of suppress my super terrors about it all. Well, no promises though because he didn't get entirely sick and if I do catch his thing, I'll probably end up fetal and incomprehensible anyway.
What I've realized is unless you have this issue, you don't really understand the gravity of it and the lack of choice around it and I know for my guy, it's hard because there is a sort of nurtury care that I just can't provide in those situations, but at the same time, he has been so awesome in trying to work around me and I so appreciate that, you know? He even lets me turn on the tap for him so he can wash his hands so I don't have to keep bleaching everything he touches. Of course, he could probably do it himself if I'm not paying attention or if I'm asleep and I probably wouldn't die, but still, when I'm around, he respects my crazy enough to oblige.
Um. My neighbor's side light just shut off. That never happens. I think the light bulb burnt out. (Finally! It shines right into my kitchen.)
Also, this daylight savings wasn't nearly as bad as usual on account of having a doctor's appointment early Monday and the relief of that settling my mind enough to go to sleep reasonably early and then my guy's ill things exhausting me enough to go to bed reasonably early and then now, it's almost three and I'm really exhausted. So yey for that, however long it lasts.
And I really do miss my guy. It feels like I haven't seen him in two weeks, which I kind of haven't at this point. It is nice to see him when I turn the tap on for him though, even if we can't kiss or hug or be within three feet of each other without me panicking. I miss his smile. And the way he looks at me. And rolling over and snuggling him. And the things he says. And just generally being with him. At least tonight, I'm in my own bed instead of on the sofa, and that means I have a Littles. No doggies come downstairs to be with me for some reason, whereas Jemma is on my guy like glue when he's down there in his old bed... I even brought her a bed so she wouldn't have to sleep on the wood beside him. I bet she'd spoon with him if he asked her to. :D
Anyway, I'm going to bed. I'm so far behind in my work, which is kind of dumb because if I do get this thing, odds are I won't finish my hours this week on account of hiding out all fetal.
Goodnight.
(I'll edit this tomorrow, so sorry for mistakes and whatnot, especially since I was so ADD in writing it.)
Except that I had endless nightmares all morning.
One involved my guy and his dad holding me hostage. It was like we were just all living in the house together nicely, but I couldn't leave. They were nice to me until I tried to escape and then things got violent and scary. I broke into the garage and tried to escape with my car, but I wasn't fast enough so I hid in the back seat on the floor behind the front seats, under the folded down seats. In real life I always hate that part in movies where they're running to the car and they're fumbling with the keys and the scary person is coming and there's just not enough time because somebody's chasing you at a faster speed than you're moving as you unlock the things and try to start the car.
[I should totally practice, just in case...]
Anyway, so then I'm hiding and he's in the garage looking for me and I'm waiting for the Criminal Minds guys to burst through the door and save me, but they're just not coming. I think he broke a car window and I screamed and then Boo woke me up by throwing up on my vacuum cleaner hose.
Anyway, I figure it's a future thing. In the dream, my guy was happy and light and didn't really know what was going on and his dad was more confining and controlling. Right now, my guy is light and happy but who knows how he'll be later? Apparently, my subconscious thinks he'll be scary and trap me. My car, in my life in general, tends to be a symbol of freedom.
They also say that significant others in your dreams are not them, but a representation of your masculine side. And I guess that would also make sense because in the case of this wedding, my masculine side is rather confining. It's the part of me, I think, that never thought I'd ever get married and can't seem to let that go. As if it's some sort of weakness to get married. A failure, even.
Or maybe I'm reading too far into it and my subconscious really, really doesn't appreciate it when I watch Criminal Minds.
I still haven't gotten over this wedding thing though. I suppose most people have a lifetime to wonder and imagine about it and I didn't really have that, so now it's like this out of nowhere thing. I look at some of the girls on pinterest and they're like fifteen and have wedding boards up and are all dreaming about everything. That was so not me. At fifteen, I didn't even have a boy on the horizon. To be honest, I was more into mastering my own body rather than attempting to trust anybody else with it. *shrugs*
Who knew that much independence could be a bad thing?
Side note: I kind of like this dress, but not for the wedding. Just for wearing. In like a raspberry color or a blue or even black. Or white even. (Apparently, the real version of that dress is $549....)
Also, my laptop is overheating.
And it's funny how I'm fairly severely emetophobic but for some reason, probably because my guy never really gets sick, I'm not nearly as panicky about it this time as I usually am. Don't get me wrong, I'm still barely functional and I still am running around bleaching everything, but I'm not fetal and shaking and incomprehensible. I still managed to make him soup twice today and I even ate a half a bowl of cereal and some toast. That never happens. Ever. That's not to say I'm not still terrified, but I think between realizing I can't control everything and that I actually miss this guy when he's relegated to the basement, I can kind of suppress my super terrors about it all. Well, no promises though because he didn't get entirely sick and if I do catch his thing, I'll probably end up fetal and incomprehensible anyway.
What I've realized is unless you have this issue, you don't really understand the gravity of it and the lack of choice around it and I know for my guy, it's hard because there is a sort of nurtury care that I just can't provide in those situations, but at the same time, he has been so awesome in trying to work around me and I so appreciate that, you know? He even lets me turn on the tap for him so he can wash his hands so I don't have to keep bleaching everything he touches. Of course, he could probably do it himself if I'm not paying attention or if I'm asleep and I probably wouldn't die, but still, when I'm around, he respects my crazy enough to oblige.
Um. My neighbor's side light just shut off. That never happens. I think the light bulb burnt out. (Finally! It shines right into my kitchen.)
Also, this daylight savings wasn't nearly as bad as usual on account of having a doctor's appointment early Monday and the relief of that settling my mind enough to go to sleep reasonably early and then my guy's ill things exhausting me enough to go to bed reasonably early and then now, it's almost three and I'm really exhausted. So yey for that, however long it lasts.
And I really do miss my guy. It feels like I haven't seen him in two weeks, which I kind of haven't at this point. It is nice to see him when I turn the tap on for him though, even if we can't kiss or hug or be within three feet of each other without me panicking. I miss his smile. And the way he looks at me. And rolling over and snuggling him. And the things he says. And just generally being with him. At least tonight, I'm in my own bed instead of on the sofa, and that means I have a Littles. No doggies come downstairs to be with me for some reason, whereas Jemma is on my guy like glue when he's down there in his old bed... I even brought her a bed so she wouldn't have to sleep on the wood beside him. I bet she'd spoon with him if he asked her to. :D
Anyway, I'm going to bed. I'm so far behind in my work, which is kind of dumb because if I do get this thing, odds are I won't finish my hours this week on account of hiding out all fetal.
Goodnight.
(I'll edit this tomorrow, so sorry for mistakes and whatnot, especially since I was so ADD in writing it.)
Tuesday, 13 March, 2012
Radiating...
Laptop is struggling to survive tonight. The fan is on full and it's getting pretty warm...
So today was the endo. I guess I woke up feeling differently because after spending all last week adamant that I would never swallow this radioactive pill, I went in there today with the feeling that I should try to restore my trust in my doctor somehow. He did, afterall, save my life when I was incredibly gravesy.
So I went in there with the intention to question him to death until I trusted him again. If RAI is the solution, then there will be no argument I can make that will hold up against it, I thought. It's kind of like how I approached Christianity in the beginning, when I was still agnostic: if it is the truth, then no amount of curiosity or criticism will ever be able to change it. There is no question you can come up with that will stump it (or trump it) because if it is the truth, then it will always be the truth.
And so I laid out the two timelines to thyroid death:
RAI: 6 weeks to 12 months.
Surgery: Immediate.
He looked at me squintily and said, "Look at what you wear. Do you really want a scar across your neck?" to which I replied, "Have you seen my nose? It used to be straight. I don't care about scars."
"Do you really want somebody slicing your neck open and fiddling around in there with their clumsy hands?"
He went on to explain that the discrepancies between the internet and reality (in my case, anyway) were based on the fact that the dose he intended to give me was much, much lower than anything I'd find on the internet. I'd only have to stay in seclusion one day, he said. Not three and definitely not eight.
"But what about the pregnant women and things?"
"Well, don't go hugging any and you'll be fine."
"Princess, you realize we give this to children? We wouldn't do that if it wasn't safe."
"Shh. Don't let the media here that!"
He also checked my ear infection thing going on, "You realize this isn't my job, right?" and prescribed me something to clear my sinuses out (hopefully). I told him my entire shopping list of bodily issues and he basically made them go away. He even weighed me in at my exact same weight (147.6) as the last time, which is weird because I'm so much fatter (I know, muscle and fat don't weigh the same, blah blah, but still!). My bloods from last time were normal except one thing had an H beside it, which means high, but whatever it was, he didn't seem concerned and it was at 3.14, so it couldn't have been that high... (I'm still curious though.)
him: Of course they're normal. I would have called you if they weren't.
me: I guess so... But I still worry...
him: Calling you when there's nothing wrong is considered a courtesy now and carries a $20 charge.
(Go RAMQ? Wtf.)
me: So... like... is there anything that exists in the world that can instantly get rid of a panic attack?
him: So you're saying you are crazy now?
me: No, I've always been crazy... I've had panic attacks since I was about four. It's just that now, they're bugging me.
him: Why didn't you say anything before?
me: I was too busy pretending I didn't have panic attacks.
He gave me this low dose ativan that you put under your tongue and said that usually, after a few, the body seems to train itself that there's a way out of the panic and I might not need them for very long.
Here's hoping.
Anyway, there was other stuff said, but basically, in a nutshell, I don't feel nearly as terrorized as I did before about the RAI. It still sucks ass, but we'll see what happens. Hopefully I won't end up tubby and/or moodswingy for my wedding.
him: What's the problem?
me: Well, I don't want to end up all ragey and lose my fiancé [points to ring]. I'm getting married in August and if I'm ragey the entire time up till then...
him: Ragey? You won't be. We'll fix that as it happens.
me: So it's not like a sudden thing with the cells bursting and releasing angry things into my blood?
him: [squinting all confusedly] No...!
me: Oh.
I guess that makes sense. If you're hyper, you end up with all the hyper run-off (osteoporosis, heart damage, etc etc), so why wouldn't they treat you seriously when your cells are exploding and spilling their thyroidy hormones into your blood?
Anyway.
So that's that. And then this happened:
And I love my doggies like crazy.
I'm so grateful for the time I've had with my doggies and that they're as healthy and happy as they are. We're so, so, so lucky.
And I'm so grateful that Littles is happy and peaceful here and seems to be flourishing, even with her surgical healings going on...
<3
So today was the endo. I guess I woke up feeling differently because after spending all last week adamant that I would never swallow this radioactive pill, I went in there today with the feeling that I should try to restore my trust in my doctor somehow. He did, afterall, save my life when I was incredibly gravesy.
So I went in there with the intention to question him to death until I trusted him again. If RAI is the solution, then there will be no argument I can make that will hold up against it, I thought. It's kind of like how I approached Christianity in the beginning, when I was still agnostic: if it is the truth, then no amount of curiosity or criticism will ever be able to change it. There is no question you can come up with that will stump it (or trump it) because if it is the truth, then it will always be the truth.
And so I laid out the two timelines to thyroid death:
RAI: 6 weeks to 12 months.
Surgery: Immediate.
He looked at me squintily and said, "Look at what you wear. Do you really want a scar across your neck?" to which I replied, "Have you seen my nose? It used to be straight. I don't care about scars."
"Do you really want somebody slicing your neck open and fiddling around in there with their clumsy hands?"
He went on to explain that the discrepancies between the internet and reality (in my case, anyway) were based on the fact that the dose he intended to give me was much, much lower than anything I'd find on the internet. I'd only have to stay in seclusion one day, he said. Not three and definitely not eight.
"But what about the pregnant women and things?"
"Well, don't go hugging any and you'll be fine."
"Princess, you realize we give this to children? We wouldn't do that if it wasn't safe."
"Shh. Don't let the media here that!"
He also checked my ear infection thing going on, "You realize this isn't my job, right?" and prescribed me something to clear my sinuses out (hopefully). I told him my entire shopping list of bodily issues and he basically made them go away. He even weighed me in at my exact same weight (147.6) as the last time, which is weird because I'm so much fatter (I know, muscle and fat don't weigh the same, blah blah, but still!). My bloods from last time were normal except one thing had an H beside it, which means high, but whatever it was, he didn't seem concerned and it was at 3.14, so it couldn't have been that high... (I'm still curious though.)
him: Of course they're normal. I would have called you if they weren't.
me: I guess so... But I still worry...
him: Calling you when there's nothing wrong is considered a courtesy now and carries a $20 charge.
(Go RAMQ? Wtf.)
me: So... like... is there anything that exists in the world that can instantly get rid of a panic attack?
him: So you're saying you are crazy now?
me: No, I've always been crazy... I've had panic attacks since I was about four. It's just that now, they're bugging me.
him: Why didn't you say anything before?
me: I was too busy pretending I didn't have panic attacks.
He gave me this low dose ativan that you put under your tongue and said that usually, after a few, the body seems to train itself that there's a way out of the panic and I might not need them for very long.
Here's hoping.
Anyway, there was other stuff said, but basically, in a nutshell, I don't feel nearly as terrorized as I did before about the RAI. It still sucks ass, but we'll see what happens. Hopefully I won't end up tubby and/or moodswingy for my wedding.
him: What's the problem?
me: Well, I don't want to end up all ragey and lose my fiancé [points to ring]. I'm getting married in August and if I'm ragey the entire time up till then...
him: Ragey? You won't be. We'll fix that as it happens.
me: So it's not like a sudden thing with the cells bursting and releasing angry things into my blood?
him: [squinting all confusedly] No...!
me: Oh.
I guess that makes sense. If you're hyper, you end up with all the hyper run-off (osteoporosis, heart damage, etc etc), so why wouldn't they treat you seriously when your cells are exploding and spilling their thyroidy hormones into your blood?
Anyway.
So that's that. And then this happened:
And I love my doggies like crazy.
I'm so grateful for the time I've had with my doggies and that they're as healthy and happy as they are. We're so, so, so lucky.
And I'm so grateful that Littles is happy and peaceful here and seems to be flourishing, even with her surgical healings going on...
<3
Monday, 12 March, 2012
Endo...
Tomorrow's the endo. I'm pretty sure, judging by the rageys, screamies and emotionalies, that my bloods will come up gravesy. Sad times. I don't know how to navigate this without pissing my doctor off entirely. And I kind of don't want to piss him off because he is fairly well connected, I think and that would basically get me blacklisted from the healthcare system.
I'm going to bed early in the hopes of having a clear head when I see him. We'll see how that goes.
Also, putting this link here for later.
And after reading bits there, I googled what a low iodine diet would be and it basically means avoiding all of the foods I currently eat.
So yeah, it feels like an elephant of faily sadness is pressing on my lungs, but what can ya do, right?
Well, other than scream at the boyfriend for a while, cry a bit, slice a finger somehow (mystery) and then break up with him because it's what's best for everybody.
And then snuggle with him, finish the dishes, shower and bandage up the small but ferociously painful wound.
And then feel the elephant of faily sadness bearing down on everything breathey because this feeling of being a wicked underdog just can't be shaken.
It sucks to feel defective, even if you can chalk up all the negative emotions to hormone fluctuations and overabundances.
That doesn't make it ok.
I'm so lucky that these four beasties I live with are forgiving and caring and maybe a little crazy for enduring what they endure.
I hope I can sleep tonight. Hard.
I'm going to bed early in the hopes of having a clear head when I see him. We'll see how that goes.
Also, putting this link here for later.
And after reading bits there, I googled what a low iodine diet would be and it basically means avoiding all of the foods I currently eat.
So yeah, it feels like an elephant of faily sadness is pressing on my lungs, but what can ya do, right?
Well, other than scream at the boyfriend for a while, cry a bit, slice a finger somehow (mystery) and then break up with him because it's what's best for everybody.
And then snuggle with him, finish the dishes, shower and bandage up the small but ferociously painful wound.
And then feel the elephant of faily sadness bearing down on everything breathey because this feeling of being a wicked underdog just can't be shaken.
It sucks to feel defective, even if you can chalk up all the negative emotions to hormone fluctuations and overabundances.
That doesn't make it ok.
I'm so lucky that these four beasties I live with are forgiving and caring and maybe a little crazy for enduring what they endure.
I hope I can sleep tonight. Hard.
Saturday, 10 March, 2012
Saturday afternoon is for the yellies...
I've been rabidly foul since my guy got back on Wednesday night. Wednesday night was a disaster until the pizza arrived, and Thursday was ok, but I woke up really crabby and Boo threw me over the edge in the afternoon. And yesterday? It started off ok, but turned sour quickly. Now, my guy's at his parents' and I'm here with Jemma and Boo and we went to the dog park around the corner (which is shitty, but there were two huskies in there, so that was enough) and now we're just chilling out and I'm contemplating a nap but I think that's a bad idea after I ate a whole clove of garlic on some toast.
I don't know what to do about the sleeping schedule on weekends. Or weekdays for that matter. Having eight days of not waking up spoiled me, I think. Waking up on Thursday and Friday to drive him again and then being woken up today at nine thirty while he tried to be quiet to no avail is all making me crazy irate. Add Littles being on the verge of catastrophizing her incisions and I'm a ball of angst. Ticking time-bomb of angst.
I realized in the car yesterday that the only difference between a nagging wifey and her husband is the husband doesn't notice the things she hasn't done yet. She can back burner things and that's fine, but if he does the same, it's the end of the world.
Why is it that what we want becomes so utterly important and such a strong measure of their commitment to us?
There are some things I wish he cared about more. Like Littles' stitches. But I think health things are not his forte. And granted, I've assisted in surgeries and her stuff makes me nearly pass out too. But at the same time, I'm so terrified that he'll become one of the many guys I have never been able to rely on for anything. Terrified. I'm terrified that I sweep away these things when they might be telling of future troubles. I don't want to be the only one responsible. I don't want to be the one managing the household single-handedly if he's around. I'm not that kind of girl. If it's all up to me, then maybe I should be alone so I don't expect a partnership and end up disappointed.
The problem is I don't know if it's all up to me or not. Like, I don't know if he's not willing to put in the work or if I'm just focusing on things that don't matter. I mean, he works way longer hours than I do and takes care of the dogs in the morning. I barely do anything other than chores and my tiny bit of work...
But it's not even how much work we do. It's not about pulling our own weight- because there, I know I'm not doing my share. It's about feeling responsible. Like if the car breaks, that's on me. If something happens to the house, that's on me. If something happens to the dogs, that's on me too. It just doesn't feel like I can count on him to take control of things when things go awry. But is that him or is it me? You know? Is it my experience and lack of trust or is he really not going to step up when I need him to step up?
I don't know.
I think in my imagination the person I expect him to be would end up incredibly controlling. Like one of those guys who is all, "I've got this! You go sit down and be pretty." Yeah, I wouldn't be able to handle that either. But maybe sometimes?
I think that's why I'm so adamant about him making me breakfast on Saturdays even though he hates it. It's like, "I know you woke up to drive me in the middle of your night every day this week, so you stay in bed and get hungry and I'll make you pancakes," except that he spent all week working his ass off and making food for everybody else in the world, so why would he want to wake up on his day off and cook for me too? His ideal is waking up and having cereal... My ideal is where he's all, "Yey! Time with my girlfriend!" and does all these things for me even if I don't deserve any of it. Not that I'm spoiled so much as waking up on his day off feeling like a pain in his ass before I've even moved kind of blows. It kind of wrecks my mood and then every Saturday ends up irritable fight day. And then he thinks I'm an even bigger pain in the ass. And then by Sunday night, we get into a groove again and everything's great and then he goes back to work on Monday and it starts all over again.
I'd still rather have him here and wake up at 6AM to drive him every day and be woken up on weekends, but can't I have both somehow? Can't I sleep and have him around? There has to be a way.
Maybe we need to move somewhere closer to the train. Or closer to his work. Or just out of this cold house in the middle of nowhere.
Speaking of which, I have no idea what it would take to make this place homey. Seriously. I need somebody to come in here and be all, "Paint that this color and hang these curtains there," and voilà. Because I'm hopeless and the coldness of this house affects the mood here. It's like it creates panic by being so institutional. I don't know how to fix it.
Ok, I'm going to nap. My crockpot chicken is taking eons (I put the potatoes in with it this time, but they're still rock hard after three hours), so fuck it. *shrugs*
I don't know what to do about the sleeping schedule on weekends. Or weekdays for that matter. Having eight days of not waking up spoiled me, I think. Waking up on Thursday and Friday to drive him again and then being woken up today at nine thirty while he tried to be quiet to no avail is all making me crazy irate. Add Littles being on the verge of catastrophizing her incisions and I'm a ball of angst. Ticking time-bomb of angst.
I realized in the car yesterday that the only difference between a nagging wifey and her husband is the husband doesn't notice the things she hasn't done yet. She can back burner things and that's fine, but if he does the same, it's the end of the world.
Why is it that what we want becomes so utterly important and such a strong measure of their commitment to us?
There are some things I wish he cared about more. Like Littles' stitches. But I think health things are not his forte. And granted, I've assisted in surgeries and her stuff makes me nearly pass out too. But at the same time, I'm so terrified that he'll become one of the many guys I have never been able to rely on for anything. Terrified. I'm terrified that I sweep away these things when they might be telling of future troubles. I don't want to be the only one responsible. I don't want to be the one managing the household single-handedly if he's around. I'm not that kind of girl. If it's all up to me, then maybe I should be alone so I don't expect a partnership and end up disappointed.
The problem is I don't know if it's all up to me or not. Like, I don't know if he's not willing to put in the work or if I'm just focusing on things that don't matter. I mean, he works way longer hours than I do and takes care of the dogs in the morning. I barely do anything other than chores and my tiny bit of work...
But it's not even how much work we do. It's not about pulling our own weight- because there, I know I'm not doing my share. It's about feeling responsible. Like if the car breaks, that's on me. If something happens to the house, that's on me. If something happens to the dogs, that's on me too. It just doesn't feel like I can count on him to take control of things when things go awry. But is that him or is it me? You know? Is it my experience and lack of trust or is he really not going to step up when I need him to step up?
I don't know.
I think in my imagination the person I expect him to be would end up incredibly controlling. Like one of those guys who is all, "I've got this! You go sit down and be pretty." Yeah, I wouldn't be able to handle that either. But maybe sometimes?
I think that's why I'm so adamant about him making me breakfast on Saturdays even though he hates it. It's like, "I know you woke up to drive me in the middle of your night every day this week, so you stay in bed and get hungry and I'll make you pancakes," except that he spent all week working his ass off and making food for everybody else in the world, so why would he want to wake up on his day off and cook for me too? His ideal is waking up and having cereal... My ideal is where he's all, "Yey! Time with my girlfriend!" and does all these things for me even if I don't deserve any of it. Not that I'm spoiled so much as waking up on his day off feeling like a pain in his ass before I've even moved kind of blows. It kind of wrecks my mood and then every Saturday ends up irritable fight day. And then he thinks I'm an even bigger pain in the ass. And then by Sunday night, we get into a groove again and everything's great and then he goes back to work on Monday and it starts all over again.
I'd still rather have him here and wake up at 6AM to drive him every day and be woken up on weekends, but can't I have both somehow? Can't I sleep and have him around? There has to be a way.
Maybe we need to move somewhere closer to the train. Or closer to his work. Or just out of this cold house in the middle of nowhere.
Speaking of which, I have no idea what it would take to make this place homey. Seriously. I need somebody to come in here and be all, "Paint that this color and hang these curtains there," and voilà. Because I'm hopeless and the coldness of this house affects the mood here. It's like it creates panic by being so institutional. I don't know how to fix it.
Ok, I'm going to nap. My crockpot chicken is taking eons (I put the potatoes in with it this time, but they're still rock hard after three hours), so fuck it. *shrugs*
Gross things.
It's a weird place I'm in still. Every day, I suppose, is different, but every day has so many things...
My guy's family seems to have a philosophy that you have to put effort into maintaining your family relationships or they'll fade away or something and this baffles me because I grew up in a family that was the opposite. We required zero maintenance and based everything on the principle that family is just there. No matter what happens, how far apart you've drifted, or even the level of animosity between you and whomever, everybody is always supposed to be there. The end result of this is that for every one time I see my family, we see his family about eight. And I mean, they're nice people and all, but there's a reason I don't see my family more often (namely because I'm a loner who likes to be alone doing alone things).
Anyway.
Tomorrow we're supposed to go over because it's his brother's birthday, except his brother isn't in town. You know what I mean? My brother wasn't in town for his birthday so it came and went and one day, we'll have a brunch and I'll have a panic attack at it and that'll be that. :D
Different, I guess.
I've been absolved of going tomorrow, to which the parents asked, "Does she not like us?"
In other news, Littles started scratching at her side incision, which is super creepy. And in the car today, she was sitting on my guy's lap and she's got this pooch of fat above her tail and she was sitting such that the pooch was sagging onto her tail and it folded her mast cell tumor incision and both of us were freaking out about it (I was probably close to passing out while driving, to be honest) until she finally went into the back seat. But man, so freaky.
As for her scratching, I put a boot on her scratchiest foot and a sock on the boot because the boot is probably rough enough to scratch anyway, but now I'm worried the sock might snag on her incision... Ah! It's so hard to patiently wait for your doggy to heal without panicking about everything.
Anyway.
Speaking of gross things, I wish I was one of those people who got, like, surface acne instead of the deep tissue kind where you feel like the only way to get rid of it is to lance your face. I hope my guy realizes that if he maintains his habit of licking my face as revenge for things, it's likely I'll look like a mutant on our wedding day.
[pause for working]
And now it's late. Bleh. I hate that blogging ends up on the back burner every day. :(
My guy's family seems to have a philosophy that you have to put effort into maintaining your family relationships or they'll fade away or something and this baffles me because I grew up in a family that was the opposite. We required zero maintenance and based everything on the principle that family is just there. No matter what happens, how far apart you've drifted, or even the level of animosity between you and whomever, everybody is always supposed to be there. The end result of this is that for every one time I see my family, we see his family about eight. And I mean, they're nice people and all, but there's a reason I don't see my family more often (namely because I'm a loner who likes to be alone doing alone things).
Anyway.
Tomorrow we're supposed to go over because it's his brother's birthday, except his brother isn't in town. You know what I mean? My brother wasn't in town for his birthday so it came and went and one day, we'll have a brunch and I'll have a panic attack at it and that'll be that. :D
Different, I guess.
I've been absolved of going tomorrow, to which the parents asked, "Does she not like us?"
In other news, Littles started scratching at her side incision, which is super creepy. And in the car today, she was sitting on my guy's lap and she's got this pooch of fat above her tail and she was sitting such that the pooch was sagging onto her tail and it folded her mast cell tumor incision and both of us were freaking out about it (I was probably close to passing out while driving, to be honest) until she finally went into the back seat. But man, so freaky.
As for her scratching, I put a boot on her scratchiest foot and a sock on the boot because the boot is probably rough enough to scratch anyway, but now I'm worried the sock might snag on her incision... Ah! It's so hard to patiently wait for your doggy to heal without panicking about everything.
Anyway.
Speaking of gross things, I wish I was one of those people who got, like, surface acne instead of the deep tissue kind where you feel like the only way to get rid of it is to lance your face. I hope my guy realizes that if he maintains his habit of licking my face as revenge for things, it's likely I'll look like a mutant on our wedding day.
[pause for working]
And now it's late. Bleh. I hate that blogging ends up on the back burner every day. :(
Friday, 9 March, 2012
Short rambly with a side of low grade mast cell tumor and a really smiley dog...
If anybody is looking for some last minute Christmas presents for me... This.
Littles is doing pretty well today. The vet called this morning with the results (already!) and she had a low grade mast cell tumor. We're supposed to be vigilant about checking for new growth and whatnot because it could potentially be cancerous, but he said he got good margins around it and there's a good chance she'll be fine. So then:
me: So... you're saying... she's invincible?
vet: Well, let's hope so.
Yes, let's.
Today, she was super playful all day. It was pretty awesome, even if on the flipside, Boo was so, so bad all day. *sigh*
I don't think I'll ever understand why Boo is so stubborn to his own detriment. I guess as Littles is a testament to never giving up hope and never becoming so cynical that you can't love those who finally love you, Boo is a testament to how no matter how stubborn you are, how rebellious you are and how much trouble you get yourself into, it doesn't actually affect how lovable you are.
He's pretty fricken lovable.
Meanwhile, when I was upset, Jemma totally became my rock. She's a little pudgy right now on account of me being too lazy, so she was even more rock-like today when I hugged her. I kind of miss her, you know? Littles is so demanding and behind her is Boo, and Jemma just blends and never asks for anything. I have to pay more attention, I guess.
Anyway, I'm going to sleep. So tired, as usual. :-/
Littles is doing pretty well today. The vet called this morning with the results (already!) and she had a low grade mast cell tumor. We're supposed to be vigilant about checking for new growth and whatnot because it could potentially be cancerous, but he said he got good margins around it and there's a good chance she'll be fine. So then:
me: So... you're saying... she's invincible?
vet: Well, let's hope so.
Yes, let's.
Today, she was super playful all day. It was pretty awesome, even if on the flipside, Boo was so, so bad all day. *sigh*
I don't think I'll ever understand why Boo is so stubborn to his own detriment. I guess as Littles is a testament to never giving up hope and never becoming so cynical that you can't love those who finally love you, Boo is a testament to how no matter how stubborn you are, how rebellious you are and how much trouble you get yourself into, it doesn't actually affect how lovable you are.
He's pretty fricken lovable.
Meanwhile, when I was upset, Jemma totally became my rock. She's a little pudgy right now on account of me being too lazy, so she was even more rock-like today when I hugged her. I kind of miss her, you know? Littles is so demanding and behind her is Boo, and Jemma just blends and never asks for anything. I have to pay more attention, I guess.
Anyway, I'm going to sleep. So tired, as usual. :-/
Thursday, 8 March, 2012
Frustrated as hell... but Littles is home! YEY! And my guy is home! Double YEY!
What a frustrating evening. I drove my guy's parents home and we stayed there for a while to hear about their trip and we used the steak I had to cook today as an alibi to get out of there when they suggested we order a pizza, but by the time we left, it was already late, so I was all, "Do you mind if I just stop to get fries to go with my steak instead of cooking potatoes?" and he was all, "No, go get your fries," so we took a detour to go get them and I left him and Littles in the car with the car running because it was going to take thirty seconds and ten minutes later, one guy's working on the order behind me and one girl's working on the order in front of me and she didn't make enough fries for me because she's a moron and he's changing the coffee filters while I'm waiting for my fries because he's a moron and ten or so minutes go by and I'm going absolutely insane because why the fuck can't they make my fucking fries already, and so I flip out and ask the cashier to give me my money back because this is just fucked up and the other girl clues in and is all, "What? She doesn't want them anymore?" and I'm all, "Why the fuck would I want to wait for you to start cooking fries now? What the fuck?" and she's all baffled and I get my money back and go out to the car shaking with frustration and I just want to punch something or cry because it's not about the fries but about being invisible and being impatient as shit and so then we go home and I'm upset and he's all, "Want me to peel you potatoes?" after asking me about eight times what kind of potatoes I want and I never answered him and so he peels the potatoes and I calm the fuck down and go cut them and put them into the pot and probably about fifteen minutes later, the whole house is full of smoke and apparently my potatoes burnt to shit and were about to catch fire and so I took them off the burner and put them on the counter which is ceramic and usually can handle anything, but no, it burnt (what the fuck burns ceramic?) and I still don't understand how it could have happened when the small burners on my stove can barely boil water on their highest setting but whatever, I throw the pot outside and the snow underneath it sizzles angrily and I open all the doors and windows and turn on the air exchanger and cry on my guy's shoulder because, like, am I just not supposed to eat ever or something and it's the most frustrating and disappointing set of events and I order pizza anyway and so then I'm trying to take my mind off shit and a girl is all, "You should start a facebook page for Littles," and I'm all, "lol" and then I think about it and I'm all, "Hey, why not?" so I do it and spend way more time than I anticipated doing it because I'm loading all the pictures from the past year, arranging them by date so when you scroll through this bullshit timeline bullshit, you see her whole existence with us and you see her evolve and stuff and so then I finally finish it and the long-ass bio I wrote disappeared, so that's a piss off, so I wrote another one and I'm all, "This one's better anyway," trying to look at the bright side of things and then I save it and I post it on that girl's wall and I go back to it and the mutherfucking timeline bullshit won't fucking scroll back past February and really wants me to beat it with a stick with nails sticking out of it and fucking facebook help is so bullshit and a huge waste of time to the point where the "user manual" they sent by email when I started the page doesn't even have the timeline layout yet because they're fucking morons who put the cart before the horse and don't give a shit about anything but how the advertisers feel and look how well that's working for asshole who called the girl a whore, eh, but whatever I wrote them an email I don't expect them to reply to and we'll see what happens because right now I could not care less about this fucking piece of shit evening that is making me take for granted that I got my Littles and my guy back in the same day and I didn't even nearly crash with my guy's parents in the car so that's pretty good too and at the end of it all, his dad thinks I'm a good driver, which I guess they wouldn't tell me I wasn't to my face, but still, I haven't resolved my issues of associating my ability to drive with my self-worth so in the meantime, it's pretty important that people like me as a driver, but seriously, what kind of bullshit day has this been and I'm so fucking far behind in my work too because I wasted my mutherfucking time on this bullshit just so asshole can steal my pictures and sell them to advertisers? Fack.
*deep breath*
But holy shit is it fucking amazing to have this little Runtski and my favorite man home.
Runtski with her sparkly pink e-collar on:
Her slices and dices:
I love her to death and I don't know how I'll ever manage to live without her.
But whatever, he's waking me up in two hours and by God I'm going to mutherfucking snuggle the shit out of him till then.
Because I can.
Frack.
*deep breath*
But holy shit is it fucking amazing to have this little Runtski and my favorite man home.
Runtski with her sparkly pink e-collar on:
Her slices and dices:
I love her to death and I don't know how I'll ever manage to live without her.
But whatever, he's waking me up in two hours and by God I'm going to mutherfucking snuggle the shit out of him till then.
Because I can.
Frack.
Wednesday, 7 March, 2012
Littles surgery day (and other things)...
Littles is at the vet till tomorrow. I'm supposed to go get her anytime after 9:30, so we'll see what time I wake up.
I didn't do any work today, mainly because I was exhausted and just felt the need to take a day off in spite of the fact that I don't work all that hard anyway. Slacker.
My computer fan is obnoxiously loud right now. Irritating.
It's weird to be here with just Jemma and Boo. Somehow, I think this is deliberate. Suddenly, amidst all my confusion about this wedding situation, I find myself back to where I was a year and a half ago with no man and no Little dog. The difference is now it doesn't feel quite enough. Now the idea of being a career-oriented person doesn't feel like me. I don't think it ever was me; I think I just made do with what I was facing. I wasn't going to get married because the only men I dated were terrible, so it only made sense that career was supposed to be my focus, you know? I do like nice cars and nice shoes, sure, but I don't need the best cars or the most expensive shoes. I think I do like a good bargain more than I like either of those. I'll take my half price used luxury car and my third of the price sale rack Chie Miharas.
I read this article about baby rearing a while ago that said to beware, as a new mother, of touch saturation and how that can impact your relationship with your hubby (or I guess significant other, whoever that may be), and ever since I got Littles, she's been clung to me every day to the point where I do get annoyed and just want to have some space for my skin to breathe, so I can totally see how having a baby cling to you all day every day would do that too (even more so than a Littles). Now that she and my guy are both gone though, it's like there's an echo all around me. It's like the house is empty. Jemma and Boo are more peaceful, but I don't think they're more happy. We'll see tomorrow, I guess, when everybody comes home (finally!).
It was pretty funny though when I asked my guy where he slept in his parents' house, he said he slept in the dog's bed (which is a twin-sized bed because she's that spoiled) and she promoted herself to his parents' bed. :D I like that the guy I'm going to marry does things like that for a dog. It's so fricken sweet.
Meanwhile, last night, in the depths of the night, long after I wanted to go to bed, I had a really upsetting conversation that involved name calling (I refrained, other than pointing out that he was being an asshole to me) and the other person telling me to shut up a couple times. Normally, I'd hang up on that sort of thing (not without explaining first, obviously), but I felt like I had to try to get him to see some things... I don't know.
Suffice it to say that after hearing about that guy's relationship, I'm glad that in my relationship, my guy and I feel we're able to provoke the other to change and grow out of bad habits and behaviors that are to our detriment and to the detriment of our relationship. I like that about us. I like that I found somebody I can grow with. I like that he grows. It's pretty awesome.
Anyway, I'm exhausted again. I have to learn to blog earlier in the day. I have tried a few times and always end up really ADD about it, so I put it off. I have to learn to focus more, I guess. Block out distractions, and stop seeking out distractions.
It sucks too because I'm torn between absorbing this last opportunity to sleep in undisturbed and going to get Littles as soon as is humanly possible. We'll see, I guess.
Oh, and I guess I should post what I know:
She got out of surgery around four, I guess, maybe three thirty, and seemed to wake up quickly. I had asked them to put a cone on her because she's gnaw-y and I asked them to biopsy the mass, to which they said if the vet wasn't confident about what sort of tumor it was, he'd send it out, but he might not need to.
After Sears called me and I suckered myself into an extra two years of warranty on my dryer (I don't trust it; hence me suckering myself as she didn't try to sell me anything at all), I called the vet for an update. Everything had gone well and she was resting comfortably. They were sending the tumor to be biopsied (eek! Is that a bad thing?) and the results would be in in seven to ten days. I could go get her at 9:30 tomorrow, they said.
I'd brought food this morning, but they said it probably wouldn't be necessary, but when I called, I mentioned that she can't eat grains and I offered to bring food and they agreed, so I went at around seven thirty to drop it off.
The vet's sister was at the reception and all enthusiastically asked me if I wanted to see the tumor. I hesitated, forgetting that I do have a biology degree and this sort of thing is actually pretty cool (you forget these things when it's your own doggy), but I eventually agreed. It was a creepy little thing. Well, not so little. It was about two inches in diameter and maybe one inch thick. Kind of a disk of fatty-looking tissue with some brown bits intertwined. Hopefully the brown bits don't mean anything. The only horrible part about looking at that tumor was when I flipped it over and saw the furry side. It was well attached to her skin, so it all came out in one piece. So creepy to see Littles fur on one side of it. Gah.
She went to get the file to see if he'd removed her inverted nipple, but she couldn't read the vet's writing so that was inconclusive. I kind of hope not because it feels like enough trauma as is.
She told me Littles was asleep and I could go see her. And that she looked really cute in the pink sparkly e-collar, which she assumed was mine since the vet never seemed to have anything but clear ones. It wasn't mine... but when I silently crept into the room to peek at her while she slept, she did look fricken cute in her tiny sparkly pink cone.
I also caught a glimpse of my bill-to-be. There was a 75, 65, 20, 50 and 200, among other numbers, but those were the ones I retained. This is going to be a costly endeavor, but she survived, so fuck numbers, right? I fucking love that little dog. She is such an amazing dog. I am so, so lucky to have met her and to have been able to know her.
Did I mention that when my guy and I argue, she puts her body between our faces so we can't see each other anymore?
Yeah.
Among other things- like how we call her "Sympathy Dog" because that's her super power. She smells tears.
She's an amazing dog.
Anyway.
So yeah, tomorrow. We'll see if I wake up. I hope I do. Kinda. She's in good hands, but I'm eager to have her home for icky-bottom snuggles.
Goodnight.
I didn't do any work today, mainly because I was exhausted and just felt the need to take a day off in spite of the fact that I don't work all that hard anyway. Slacker.
My computer fan is obnoxiously loud right now. Irritating.
It's weird to be here with just Jemma and Boo. Somehow, I think this is deliberate. Suddenly, amidst all my confusion about this wedding situation, I find myself back to where I was a year and a half ago with no man and no Little dog. The difference is now it doesn't feel quite enough. Now the idea of being a career-oriented person doesn't feel like me. I don't think it ever was me; I think I just made do with what I was facing. I wasn't going to get married because the only men I dated were terrible, so it only made sense that career was supposed to be my focus, you know? I do like nice cars and nice shoes, sure, but I don't need the best cars or the most expensive shoes. I think I do like a good bargain more than I like either of those. I'll take my half price used luxury car and my third of the price sale rack Chie Miharas.
I read this article about baby rearing a while ago that said to beware, as a new mother, of touch saturation and how that can impact your relationship with your hubby (or I guess significant other, whoever that may be), and ever since I got Littles, she's been clung to me every day to the point where I do get annoyed and just want to have some space for my skin to breathe, so I can totally see how having a baby cling to you all day every day would do that too (even more so than a Littles). Now that she and my guy are both gone though, it's like there's an echo all around me. It's like the house is empty. Jemma and Boo are more peaceful, but I don't think they're more happy. We'll see tomorrow, I guess, when everybody comes home (finally!).
It was pretty funny though when I asked my guy where he slept in his parents' house, he said he slept in the dog's bed (which is a twin-sized bed because she's that spoiled) and she promoted herself to his parents' bed. :D I like that the guy I'm going to marry does things like that for a dog. It's so fricken sweet.
Meanwhile, last night, in the depths of the night, long after I wanted to go to bed, I had a really upsetting conversation that involved name calling (I refrained, other than pointing out that he was being an asshole to me) and the other person telling me to shut up a couple times. Normally, I'd hang up on that sort of thing (not without explaining first, obviously), but I felt like I had to try to get him to see some things... I don't know.
Suffice it to say that after hearing about that guy's relationship, I'm glad that in my relationship, my guy and I feel we're able to provoke the other to change and grow out of bad habits and behaviors that are to our detriment and to the detriment of our relationship. I like that about us. I like that I found somebody I can grow with. I like that he grows. It's pretty awesome.
Anyway, I'm exhausted again. I have to learn to blog earlier in the day. I have tried a few times and always end up really ADD about it, so I put it off. I have to learn to focus more, I guess. Block out distractions, and stop seeking out distractions.
It sucks too because I'm torn between absorbing this last opportunity to sleep in undisturbed and going to get Littles as soon as is humanly possible. We'll see, I guess.
Oh, and I guess I should post what I know:
She got out of surgery around four, I guess, maybe three thirty, and seemed to wake up quickly. I had asked them to put a cone on her because she's gnaw-y and I asked them to biopsy the mass, to which they said if the vet wasn't confident about what sort of tumor it was, he'd send it out, but he might not need to.
After Sears called me and I suckered myself into an extra two years of warranty on my dryer (I don't trust it; hence me suckering myself as she didn't try to sell me anything at all), I called the vet for an update. Everything had gone well and she was resting comfortably. They were sending the tumor to be biopsied (eek! Is that a bad thing?) and the results would be in in seven to ten days. I could go get her at 9:30 tomorrow, they said.
I'd brought food this morning, but they said it probably wouldn't be necessary, but when I called, I mentioned that she can't eat grains and I offered to bring food and they agreed, so I went at around seven thirty to drop it off.
The vet's sister was at the reception and all enthusiastically asked me if I wanted to see the tumor. I hesitated, forgetting that I do have a biology degree and this sort of thing is actually pretty cool (you forget these things when it's your own doggy), but I eventually agreed. It was a creepy little thing. Well, not so little. It was about two inches in diameter and maybe one inch thick. Kind of a disk of fatty-looking tissue with some brown bits intertwined. Hopefully the brown bits don't mean anything. The only horrible part about looking at that tumor was when I flipped it over and saw the furry side. It was well attached to her skin, so it all came out in one piece. So creepy to see Littles fur on one side of it. Gah.
She went to get the file to see if he'd removed her inverted nipple, but she couldn't read the vet's writing so that was inconclusive. I kind of hope not because it feels like enough trauma as is.
She told me Littles was asleep and I could go see her. And that she looked really cute in the pink sparkly e-collar, which she assumed was mine since the vet never seemed to have anything but clear ones. It wasn't mine... but when I silently crept into the room to peek at her while she slept, she did look fricken cute in her tiny sparkly pink cone.
I also caught a glimpse of my bill-to-be. There was a 75, 65, 20, 50 and 200, among other numbers, but those were the ones I retained. This is going to be a costly endeavor, but she survived, so fuck numbers, right? I fucking love that little dog. She is such an amazing dog. I am so, so lucky to have met her and to have been able to know her.
Did I mention that when my guy and I argue, she puts her body between our faces so we can't see each other anymore?
Yeah.
Among other things- like how we call her "Sympathy Dog" because that's her super power. She smells tears.
She's an amazing dog.
Anyway.
So yeah, tomorrow. We'll see if I wake up. I hope I do. Kinda. She's in good hands, but I'm eager to have her home for icky-bottom snuggles.
Goodnight.
Tuesday, 6 March, 2012
Littles goes for surgery tomorrow... eee.
So I'm a little less nervous about my health today, even if right now, I have this piercing pain in my lungs and throat. It's highly unpleasant.
In other news, tomorrow, Littles gets this removed from just above and to the left of her tail:
So that's terrifying. She's currently asleep on my guy's pillow in the cutest little pile of Littles ever. We spent the evening taking boring real life videos of each other and playing with the piggy we bought on Sunday.
This one ended with my card being full while I tried to take the focus off her saggy udder... (The part where she bows, I was pretty sure she'd end up lying down on the camera but she just ended up standing over me, threatening some sort of unpredictably bizarre action of some kind.)
Playing with the piggy (I still haven't figured out how to get around focusing manually while videoing)-
At one point tonight while lazily webcamming with my guy, he woke Boo up by yelling at Ella and Boo gave me this look that was so fiercely angry... It was kind of scary and bizarre. I think one of the things I'm most afraid of with these dogs is that one of them might develop a sort of brain tumor or residual injury of some kind that causes them to become spontaneously aggressive. That would break my heart because they've been such sweet doggies their entire lives, you know? I think maybe he was having a bad dream or something. Maybe. Probably about Ella taking his bone. (She still has it back at her house now. :D)
It's funny how I have tons of energy and then I come to blog and it disappears. It's like using my brain to empty itself is too much...
This weekend is the worst weekend of the year for me as a night owly with potential DSPS: daylight savings. :( The bane of my existence. And all these morning people who complained about the end of it in the fall will complain about it again now and then their complaints will turn to "Yey! It's light out outside at night!" proclamations, and I'll be the only one left saddened by it till the fall.
:(
Anyway. I should go to sleep. I haven't been blogging much substance lately, have I? There are only four things on my mind lately:
- My health (scaryscaryscary)
- Getting married (scaryscaryscary, but also fun)
- Doggies getting older (scaryscaryscary, but also sad)
- Getting my website up so I can quit my job and go off on my own (scaryscaryscary, but mostly lazy and lacking in knowledge and know-how).
So yeah, life is pretty boring. Boring is good sometimes though.
I'm debating on whether or not to go snowboarding after I drop Littles off at eightish. It would keep my mind off Littles being in surgery.
LOL! I just checked and the half price rate doesn't apply tomorrow and next week at Mont Blanc. That blows. Not sure if it's worth full price to go anywhere... I guess I could go to costco on my way back and see if they have tickets to anywhere decent. That's one thing that sucks about living where I live is the hills in the Eastern Townships and Vermont are that much farther. :-/ I'd much rather go to Vermont than ride in the Laurentians. The snow's better, the people are nicer and it's generally warmer and a little less windy too.
We'll see how tired I am, I guess. I'm probably better off just going night riding somewhere. *shrugs*
Ok, I'm going to sleep.
(Oh my gah, Costco has Smuggs tickets again. Oh my gah! Sooo far, but it's my favorite... Ah.. Decisions. I wish I could be functional in the mornings... bah.)
Ah, this video! I just found it by accident on this blog with almost the same url as mine and it's probably the best rescue video ever, according to me. (Please try to watch it to the end, even if it seems hard to watch at first.)
You can see a fuller (sadder?) video of the assessment here.
Ah! Ok, now I'm really going to sleep, tears and stuffy sinuses and all. :D
In other news, tomorrow, Littles gets this removed from just above and to the left of her tail:
So that's terrifying. She's currently asleep on my guy's pillow in the cutest little pile of Littles ever. We spent the evening taking boring real life videos of each other and playing with the piggy we bought on Sunday.
This one ended with my card being full while I tried to take the focus off her saggy udder... (The part where she bows, I was pretty sure she'd end up lying down on the camera but she just ended up standing over me, threatening some sort of unpredictably bizarre action of some kind.)
Playing with the piggy (I still haven't figured out how to get around focusing manually while videoing)-
At one point tonight while lazily webcamming with my guy, he woke Boo up by yelling at Ella and Boo gave me this look that was so fiercely angry... It was kind of scary and bizarre. I think one of the things I'm most afraid of with these dogs is that one of them might develop a sort of brain tumor or residual injury of some kind that causes them to become spontaneously aggressive. That would break my heart because they've been such sweet doggies their entire lives, you know? I think maybe he was having a bad dream or something. Maybe. Probably about Ella taking his bone. (She still has it back at her house now. :D)
It's funny how I have tons of energy and then I come to blog and it disappears. It's like using my brain to empty itself is too much...
This weekend is the worst weekend of the year for me as a night owly with potential DSPS: daylight savings. :( The bane of my existence. And all these morning people who complained about the end of it in the fall will complain about it again now and then their complaints will turn to "Yey! It's light out outside at night!" proclamations, and I'll be the only one left saddened by it till the fall.
:(
Anyway. I should go to sleep. I haven't been blogging much substance lately, have I? There are only four things on my mind lately:
- My health (scaryscaryscary)
- Getting married (scaryscaryscary, but also fun)
- Doggies getting older (scaryscaryscary, but also sad)
- Getting my website up so I can quit my job and go off on my own (scaryscaryscary, but mostly lazy and lacking in knowledge and know-how).
So yeah, life is pretty boring. Boring is good sometimes though.
I'm debating on whether or not to go snowboarding after I drop Littles off at eightish. It would keep my mind off Littles being in surgery.
LOL! I just checked and the half price rate doesn't apply tomorrow and next week at Mont Blanc. That blows. Not sure if it's worth full price to go anywhere... I guess I could go to costco on my way back and see if they have tickets to anywhere decent. That's one thing that sucks about living where I live is the hills in the Eastern Townships and Vermont are that much farther. :-/ I'd much rather go to Vermont than ride in the Laurentians. The snow's better, the people are nicer and it's generally warmer and a little less windy too.
We'll see how tired I am, I guess. I'm probably better off just going night riding somewhere. *shrugs*
Ok, I'm going to sleep.
(Oh my gah, Costco has Smuggs tickets again. Oh my gah! Sooo far, but it's my favorite... Ah.. Decisions. I wish I could be functional in the mornings... bah.)
Ah, this video! I just found it by accident on this blog with almost the same url as mine and it's probably the best rescue video ever, according to me. (Please try to watch it to the end, even if it seems hard to watch at first.)
You can see a fuller (sadder?) video of the assessment here.
Ah! Ok, now I'm really going to sleep, tears and stuffy sinuses and all. :D
Monday, 5 March, 2012
Whinies, screamies and ramblies...
And so, I'm back by myself again after about a day and a half of having a boyfriend. Ella just wasn't settling in, so he went to stay at their place with her instead. It was weird to leave him behind and weird to feel like I had an alibi to get out of there (I wanted to get my doggies something chewy and the closest dog food store closed at five...).
I totally don't need an alibi with this guy...
I think after all this time, it still hasn't really hit me that this guy is staying. I mean, I love him to death, but leaving him there today, it felt like maybe he'd remember he was comfortable there and doesn't feel at home here. I wouldn't blame him- this house isn't all that homey. I don't even know where to begin to make it homey. I'm just not a homey home kind of person. I'd like to have a homey home, but I just don't know how to do it.
Anyway.
I realize now that I tend to expect him to be multiple people. Like, I expect him to say things to me and do other things when he's away from me. But everything he does is consistent. Makes it really hard to find discrepancies.
I'm lucky he's patient, aren't I?
It is an amazing thing though. Being with him sometimes feels like being transported to a different era of my life. Today, lying on his parents' couch while he ate an icky tuna sandwich, we could have been any age at anytime. I think whether we're now or if we had been ten years ago, we could have had the same afternoon together. It's really bizarre and awesome how well we mesh. It's peaceful and miraculous. And baffling sometimes.
I don't know if I'll ever get over the idea that this kind of thing doesn't actually exist. I don't know that I'll ever feel at home in it. I know I'm redundant about this, but it really does mess me up. I still can't believe I'm getting married. And it's not the "I can't believe I won the lottery" kind of thing, so much as... um... well, it's the same kind of thing as that time I got into Ryerson's photography program when 900 apply and 40 get in. It's just not supposed to happen. The difference is I'm totally marrying this guy even if I end up concussed to the point of losing most of my eyesight and my camera breaks (those were among the many reasons I didn't attend Ryerson). The other difference is that while this feels out of place too, marrying him doesn't feel wrong.
And this week, in spite of my health being kind of shitty right now in a scary way, I kinda do want his babies again. For a while, I got used to the idea of it just being us after I got the graves' again, but now I kinda do want a little screamy screaming up the place and making us giggle and cry and frustrated.
If my body can do it. And if my life is long enough too...
Today, after a freak out about my health, he told me no matter how long he has with me, he'll never regret any of it and he's glad he gets to spend whatever time he has with me. And he's the sweetest guy in the world, and even if I talk about death things (so far always unreasonably) and he gets uncomfortable, he still is there for me anyway.
I really am super lucky.
I don't know how I got to be so lucky. God knows I don't deserve it, especially not more than anybody else would. And especially when I spend so much time being so morbid for no [diagnosed] reason.
I miss him.
And I guess I'm not all that excited about this week... Work, seeing if I really should worry about my health or not, Littles' going for surgery to remove her ass tumor on Tuesday (she'd better survive) and my guy is gone till Wednesday afternoon. I can't wait till he's home for good.
Anyway, I'm going to sleep. I planned on it two hours ago... I get to sleep in though. Like... YEY!
:D
(I'd still prefer him to be here though...even if that means driving him to the 6AM train.)
I totally don't need an alibi with this guy...
I think after all this time, it still hasn't really hit me that this guy is staying. I mean, I love him to death, but leaving him there today, it felt like maybe he'd remember he was comfortable there and doesn't feel at home here. I wouldn't blame him- this house isn't all that homey. I don't even know where to begin to make it homey. I'm just not a homey home kind of person. I'd like to have a homey home, but I just don't know how to do it.
Anyway.
I realize now that I tend to expect him to be multiple people. Like, I expect him to say things to me and do other things when he's away from me. But everything he does is consistent. Makes it really hard to find discrepancies.
I'm lucky he's patient, aren't I?
It is an amazing thing though. Being with him sometimes feels like being transported to a different era of my life. Today, lying on his parents' couch while he ate an icky tuna sandwich, we could have been any age at anytime. I think whether we're now or if we had been ten years ago, we could have had the same afternoon together. It's really bizarre and awesome how well we mesh. It's peaceful and miraculous. And baffling sometimes.
I don't know if I'll ever get over the idea that this kind of thing doesn't actually exist. I don't know that I'll ever feel at home in it. I know I'm redundant about this, but it really does mess me up. I still can't believe I'm getting married. And it's not the "I can't believe I won the lottery" kind of thing, so much as... um... well, it's the same kind of thing as that time I got into Ryerson's photography program when 900 apply and 40 get in. It's just not supposed to happen. The difference is I'm totally marrying this guy even if I end up concussed to the point of losing most of my eyesight and my camera breaks (those were among the many reasons I didn't attend Ryerson). The other difference is that while this feels out of place too, marrying him doesn't feel wrong.
And this week, in spite of my health being kind of shitty right now in a scary way, I kinda do want his babies again. For a while, I got used to the idea of it just being us after I got the graves' again, but now I kinda do want a little screamy screaming up the place and making us giggle and cry and frustrated.
If my body can do it. And if my life is long enough too...
Today, after a freak out about my health, he told me no matter how long he has with me, he'll never regret any of it and he's glad he gets to spend whatever time he has with me. And he's the sweetest guy in the world, and even if I talk about death things (so far always unreasonably) and he gets uncomfortable, he still is there for me anyway.
I really am super lucky.
I don't know how I got to be so lucky. God knows I don't deserve it, especially not more than anybody else would. And especially when I spend so much time being so morbid for no [diagnosed] reason.
I miss him.
And I guess I'm not all that excited about this week... Work, seeing if I really should worry about my health or not, Littles' going for surgery to remove her ass tumor on Tuesday (she'd better survive) and my guy is gone till Wednesday afternoon. I can't wait till he's home for good.
Anyway, I'm going to sleep. I planned on it two hours ago... I get to sleep in though. Like... YEY!
:D
(I'd still prefer him to be here though...even if that means driving him to the 6AM train.)
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