Awestruck

I went to the bar last night with some friends.

I didn't get home till 2am and woke up for some stupid reason at 5am because I felt compelled to re-read my donor letter.

Why? I don't know. But i'm glad I did, because I made a discovery that has thoroughly woken me up.

I've mentioned that my donor's favourite sport was cross-country skiing, and that I will be taking it up this winter to honour him. But it's more than that: I'm not just doing it as a means to pay hommage to him; I'm doing it because I have this unexplainable desire to do so. I can't explain it, but I have this urge - this hunger - for winter to come so I can strap some skiis on and feel life flowing through me. The other day I was googling Blue Mountain, which is a ski resort here in Ontario. I even was looking up winter backgrounds for my computer that had to do with people skiing because I simply cannot wait for winter to arrive. I've got my snowpants, my jacket, all the good stuff, and now all I have to do is wait.

And then I read this:
"At his memorial one of the eulogists commented that she was sure that somewhere in about November, some person would wake up and have a tremendous urge to hit the ski trails"

You know how you can long for someone? How it pulls at your heart and you sit around and wait for them and can't really think of much else? And then when you do think of them you get excited? That's how I feel about cross-country skiing. Which is strange, because I feel like I've been skiing forever even though I havent. I long to hit the ski trails the way I long for hot summer nights in the middle of January.

Strange eh?

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Not suprisingly, the most upsetting part of my day had to do with the fact that Walmart suffered from the complete inability to supply me with my favourite type of chip. Actually, two places are at fault: The Wandering Scot, for telling me that Walmart carried a full bag of cheese and onion chips, and Walmart, for just existing.

I drove all the way from the south end (where I live) to the north-west end to Walmart-ville in search of my muchly wanted cheese and onion chips. Being that it's Wednesday and thus finale night (Americas Got Talent (funny, seeing as NONE of the judges are American), and Big Brother), chips were in high demand. So i get to Walmart, find a spot, stomp into the place, ignore the greeter, and immediately send my sister the following text:

"I'm in Walmart. Where the fuck is the chip aisle?"

Seeing as I never venture into this place, the last time i was there the grocery section was in the middle. Well i searched, and it apparently had been uprooted and moved. To the other side of the store. So i get there, and examine the massive display of chips at my disposal, and not a cheese and onion chip to be found.

Not a one.

I spent 45 minutes searching.

So i figured why not try Zehrs. Nope, they didn't have them. So i decided on plain baked chips and my favourite type of dip: Gay Lea French Onion.

Well you'd think i'd be able to find the fucking thing.

NOOOOOOOOOOO.

ABSOLUTELY NOT A FRENCH ONION DIP TO BE FOUND.

But i stood there. And i paced back and forth. And i huffed and I puffed and I knocked over every one in their food-stained favourite t-shirt and their children. And damned if i'd drive to MY end of the city, to MY Zehrs, where i KNOW they have this dip! Because that would defeat the whole purpose of driving over here in the first place. *scowl*

But it payed off. Because i found it, and stomped angrily out of the store. And now i'm home, and it's 7:33pm and i have to wait exactly 27 minutes until 8pm rolls around so i can stuff my face to the beat of reality TV.

Ok, that's done.

Injection learning day went well! My nurse was awesome and i'll start the injections tomorrow, b/c i need 5 a week, and got 3 on Monday. It's not hard at all. The hardest part is ordering supplies which I will save until the last minute when I run out of things, and will most likely run out of needles and thus miss a whole week of injections. Typical, but w/e. I'll get pics and post them.

My stomach was sore the next day, and thanks to a royal canine punch in the gut from a dog who's kind've an asshole, all is well now. It was a feeling that felt A LOT like how i felt in the weeks post-tx. Honestly, it feels like i did 1000 crunches and had the post-work out soreness, but nope, i just happened to be the fortunate recipient of multiple injections in under 4 hours. Woo. Go me.

I think that's it. Face-stuffing to commense in 20 minutes.

And to JEN - my mum's hair dresser and avid reader of this blog - you rock! Thanks for being such a fan! :)

Night kittens.

Coulda been a doctor - or something

Today has been busy, and it's only 10:28 in the morning.

Everything I had to get done, I did in under an hour.

I woke up and dashed into the blood lab, with my 1 year req in hand. Being that it was 9 am I brought a book just incase the place was backed up with old people. Luckily for me, there was no an old person to be seen, and I was the only one in there. I was told to go into room 1 immediately where I sat and waited while they looked over my req.

"Are you fasting?" they shouted.
"Yes - I always do when I get blood taken" i responded.
"When did you take your meds last?"
"9 last night"

So it always goes...

Soon enough a new blood-taker lady came in who was nice enough, but she kind've lost me when she looked over my req - right in front of my face - and inquired, "Are you used to having blood taken?"

Um......

What?

For real?

No, I'm not used to having blood taken. In the event of dying and subsequently needing a transplant, they never take blood. They save that for later when you're all well and better...In fact, I've never so much as seen a needle and have no idea what you're talking about. And please, blood-taker lady, stop staring at my port, for it is merely there for decoration and nothing else. And no, I don't have a scar from my transplant, but I do have a line that looks like a scar that I drew on myself one night out of sheer boredom.

Pft. Some people.

This kind've took me back to the time I had a bronch and the nurse forgot to put heparin in the line before she removed the needle, after I told her twice to do it. I should just leave this shit up to myself since you can't rely on anyone else to remember.

And speaking of not being able to rely on anyone...

I was at the pharmacy today picking up meds and inquiring about the Trillium Drug Plan (since I'll be 25 in two weeks and thus cut off from my parents drug coverage - weeeeee not). The pharmacist guy - who again, is nice enough - was going over my meds and I was telling him what I can take them with, what I can't, and blah blah blah, and he laughed and told me that I could probably be a pharmacist to which i thought, "Probably....wait: why am I trusting you with my meds again....?"

You will be shocked to know that at any point I did not think "you fucking idiot", and actually, the word 'fuck' never sprung into my head when referring to these people either.

So yes...all of this, and all of these wonderful thoughts, invaded my brain in under the course of an hour. I am now able to sit and enjoy my tea as I wait for lunch to roll around so i can pick up my sis from work, and then go to another appointment for immunology.

And while we're at it...I may look into changing my background again.

Don't hate.

Evil Kitteh

My precious child, Zoey

http://www.evilhumor.com/media/files7/pictures/how_to_tell_if_your_cat_is_plotting_to_kill_you.gif

*enter Twilight Zone music here*

Now run.

The 3 Stages of Studying - plus one extra

I've entered into the Studying Phase, of which I've determined has 3 stages plus one extra. I have my final exam on Monday at 8:30am and since beginning studying i've found copious ways to dick around and waste time, many of which include countless facebook status updates about my lack of studying progress. They are as follows:

April 9, 2010, 12:07pm:
on the agenda for today: study, study, study, with lots of tea on hand! Keeping the kettle full to keep me going...

April 9, 2010, 6:01pm:
...and now we enter the final phase of the studying experience: feelings of doom.

April,9, 2010, 11:39pm:
for exams, on a scale of 1 to fucked we are 'fucked'...but not quite in the realm of 'doom' ...which is one notch closer to the realm of 'hope'. at least that's what i'm telling myself

April 10, 2010, 5:38pm:
has entered into the final stage of the studying process: the 'i just don't care anymore' stage, safely surpassing 'hope', 'fucked' and 'doom' all in one svelt swoop. At least i have Doritos for later on when i inform others that i am 'studying' which will make me feel a little bit better and i may just beleive that i have in fact, studied somewhat.

So let me elaborate on these stages shall i, for those who are unaware of what they consist of:

Stage 1--> HOPE:
The first lesson of studying is that there is no hope. We're all fucked and we're all doomed on some plane. But alas, we enter into the realm of studying telling ourselves that we'll accomplish alot, remember our shit, make great notes, and most importantly, that we won't dick around. We will have our snacks, stay off facebook, and tell our friends on MSN to fuck off all because we are 'studying'. This is why stage 1 is entitled 'hope'. It is a fallacy and a lie created by ourselves in order to make ourselves feel better, all the while knowing imminent peril will greet us at some point. Fuck you, 'hope'.

Stage 2--> FUCKED:
We enter into the 'fucked' stage within the first 3-6 hours of studying. Hope can only last for about 6 hours before major emotional upset begins to leak into our system. Soon to follow are feelings of sheer panic, utter failure, ruined futures, and probable death. Your brain tells you that you know nothing, that you will never remember a single thing, and that you should've begun studying ages ago but you listened to the little ego inside of your brain and beleived that waiting a few days would still make everything 'ok'. You had it all mapped out, and now you are fucked.

Stage 3--> DOOM:
Doom. Doom surpasses fucked and is the final stage of the studying process. 'Doom' proceeds 'fucked'. When you enter into the stage of doom your heart speeds up, you become restless and angry and you begin to lash out at all things big and small. You hate your parents, your friends, your pets and especially babies. The world is coming to an end, volcanos are exploding and you feel yourself descending into a black hole of nothingness. You will never remember a single thing and will fuck up on all possible avenues. Welcome to doom: you're beyond fucked.

Stage 4: THE EXTRA STAGE
With 'doom' being the climax of the studying stages, you begin the downward spiral into the extra stage which is the 'i just don't care anymore' stage. Basically, you've given up and you acknowledge the fact that you will probably be ok. You tell yourself that you'll remember what you can while secretly holding fears of failure. The wire around your heart that's slowly squeezing the mortal life out of you (thank you fear!) begins to loosen its grip and you start seeing colours instead of solid black and white. You are no longer tense and you allow yourself more time to dick around and waste your precious minutes. When you sink to the 'i just don't care anymore' stage, you are basically ok.

So there you have it. The 3 Stages of Studying - Plus One Extra. I feel that my obvservations are correct and that the majority of students will sympathize with the conclusions i have drawn.

So that is it for today. I must check facebook, where I remain faithfully logged on in hopes of something coming up to distract me....

Out of the rut! Confessions

I've had thoughts of wanting to die since about January.

Not all the time, but on and off. And i beleive these thoughts came along with the ex and his negative attitude as well as having too much time on my hands, that all I did was focus on the fact that it was winter, that i hated the weather, didn't have a job, or money, and there was no end in sight to any and all things depressing.

I found that once i was occupied, I didn't have these thoughts and things were perfectly fine. As long as I had something to occupy my time with, I was completely fine.

The last week has been nothing but positive.

Then last night, a thought about wanting to die crept up on me.

Why? I don't know. Probably because we're getting a raging snow storm, and I was dwelling on stupid shit like what I"m doing to do for a living once I'm older (but what 24 year old doesn't worry about that?). And then, ut of the blue, I got a sign.

Mum and I were driving home, in the middle of a blazing, blowing snowstorm. We pulled onto our steet and in the middle of our driveway, amidst the blowing snow and snowdrifts, was a bunny.

Just sitting there calmly.

Staring at us.

A sign. From Karyn. That all will be ok, and that I needn't have these thoughts all because I don't know what I want to do with my life. It's ok to be worried and scared, but it is not ok to dwell on them to the point that I want an escape through death. Not that i want to die now, because i don't, but i was thinking maybe in 10 years so I wouldn't have to pay bills, lol.

Stupid eh?

The last time I saw a bunny was the 16th, the day of my bronch. It ran in front of the car on the way to Toronto.

You know you've got true friends when the pact you made the summer you were 17 holds true. Karyn and I sat in my basement, and she said to me that if anything ever happend to one of us (meaning, one of us died) that we would come back and let the other one know.

She has held onto her end of the promise countless times.

I found myself semi-depressed today on account of the snowstorm and not having anything to do. Since my sister moved out of the house in August, her room's been vacant and got a brand new double bed. The idea of me moving into her room has been tossed around countless times, and today, I jumped at the chance and moved all my shit into my sisters room.

And i feel wonderful.

And I don't want to die.

I know that I'm not depressed, but I know that when I have too much free time that ill-thoughts creep up on me. I know I am not the only one to experience such thoughts and feelings, and if there's anything I hate more than mental oppression, it's when this stuff happens and no one speaks up about it. Yes, transplant is wonderful, but there are mental downsides that I feel people sweep under the rug.

I won't sweep this under the rug. If any tx friends are reading this and have had similar thoughts, i want you to know that they are shared and you are not alone. Please leave a comment or post in the guestbook. I'd love feedback!

So anywho, moving rooms changed my attitude. So much shit went down in my old room - illness, dying, death, breakups - just too much negativity that it was good to get out and have a fresh start. Admittedly, I was slightly afraid that i would miss it (silly, eh?) but you gotta grow up and move on at some point. Mainly, my fear was that i'd miss my bed too much because it's soooooo damn comfy. But my awesome pillows will come with me so that's good! The room itself is on the dark side (butterscotch), and my sisters room is a light yellow. It's bright, and happy and cheery and positive, which is what i need. I made the right choice and am sitting on my new bed, in my new room, writing this entry and feeling completely happy:)

AND!

Another thing to be thrilled about!

Got a call from my co-ordinator today and my latest bronch results yielded NO REJECTION. As a result, my pred dose is going down as follows:

For the next month(till March 26th) it will be 12.5mg daily.

From March 26-April 26th it will go to 10mg.

From April 26th to my 9 month assessment, it will alternate daily from 10mg to 7.5mg.

So voila.

I have nothing to want to die over in retrospect.

I have no rejection. My lung function is 98%. I have a job. I'm back in school. I'm having the time of my life.

I am alive.

It's amazing the power of the mind. It's amazing how someone else's shit can bring you so low that after all I've been through that the thought of having a future made me miserable.

NEVER AGAIN.

I AM ALIVE.

I am out of my rut. Finally.

New beginnings.

The Universal Plague

There is a universal plague out there today, affecting and afflicting everyone.

It is called exhaustion.

It is the result of the relentless snow that is falling outside my window.

Goodbye spring time, hello winter time.

Please go away.

Why did you chase away my energy? Why did you steal everyone else's like a Grinch?

Well you did, and we would like ours back.

I layed on the couch this aft, torn between drinking my tea and my pop, and i realized that i barely had the energy to extend my arm to grab either. My tea-addict friend Robert suggested I get a tea-IV. I suggested it go in my neck to yield greater results to reach my system sooner.

So far, the combination of tea and pop is restoring my good senses, but my legs are completely zapped of any and all energy.

I have consumed the remaining box of Ferraro Roches that were living on the coffee table.

I felt it necessary to declare to my friends that i hunker down like a vampire and close all the window shades and live as if i am in a cave, since that is how we are all feeling today.

I cannot be peeled off the couch.

I am stuck. No energy flows through me. I am crippled and immobile.

All because the snow is falling.

All because it chased away the spring time.

All because we are thrust back into winter, and we are just ready to move on.

What happened to yesterday, with the +10 degree weather? (that's around 50F for you americans).

So here we sit, amist the snow...

The Universal Plague.

In other news, i got some results back from my bronch last week.

I have streppocaucous pneumonia?

Apparently.

I had no idea; I feel fine. I went for a frigging epic walk yesterday and wasn't held back in the least. The co-ordinator didn't sound too concerned, so I'm assuming it's been caught early. I am on azithromycin for 7 days, 2 pills daily so i guess it can't be that bad!

Plague. Again.

Will use this as an excuse to lay on couch and do nothing.

I blame strep pneumonia and the falling snow for my current state.

Tea has run out. Must make more.

Revelations of a Break-Up

I decided today that I would wake up each day and greet it like a puppy. If you've never observed a puppy or a dog in the morning, I guess I need to elaborate. The first thing a dog does when you (and they) wake up is greet you with an enthusiasm that's equivalent to a cannon ball being thrust at you. Their sheer excitement and lust for the day can sometimes be astounding, and their excitement for all things life should probably be contageous all the time.

As I sat in the dining room at 7:30 am, I observed the Spawn, eternally running in circles of joy for the day that's ahead of her, for the sight of mum and dad when they wake up (or she wakes them up on her own terms), for her stomach, or for the first pee of the day, and I thought to myself, "she knows something....i could take a cue from her."

Day in and day out, regardless of the weather, regardless of if she got bitten in the face by Madyson, or grabbed from the cat who so bitchingly was hiding in her lair beneath the couch, the Spawn (she does have a name, it's Brooke) greets every single day with enthusiasm and joy. An enthusiasm and joy for something that she probably doesn't understand. And i realized, that i should do the same. Because there's no reason not to.

Yesterday I broke up with my boyfriend. I won't go into details, but i will say that a constant negative attitude on their end was the final nail in the coffin. I beleive that I allowed that attitude to rub off on me and caused me myself to be miserable some days for unwarranted reasons. And in good-friend fashion, it took a close friend to mention my attitude change to me for me to realize (tho i hadn't been feeling the relationship in a while, for other reasons too), that something had to change.

"Bree," she more or less said, "do you want me to be honest?"
"Yes," I said. "Be as honest as possible."
"You havent been yourself. You've been miserable and bummed out for no reason lately. You just had a transplant; you should be elated and ectatic every minute of every day! You got your life back! You shouldn't be down for no reason."

And that's when the lightbulb went off.

So i spent a few long days thinking about it, and while it hurt me to do, it had to be done, and I felt relief. I woke up today with a weight off my shoulders and a renewed zest for life. It's a Saturday, and I woke up at 7:15am and decided to work on my paper that isn't due until Wednesday at midnight, and I feel happy.

I feel happy.

I am happy.

I choose to greet today, tomorrow, and the next day, like a puppy...like our mentally retarded Spawn who runs in circles of joy. I choose to smile at the tiny spot of sunshine that creeps in through the window, and I choose to extract its warmth and relish it the way my Heidi Speidi does, in snatches of sleepy moments when she has no idea that I am watching. I choose to be spontaneous and silly at inappropriate moments like my Pig and Madyson, and I choose to find elation in the slow moments that allow me to just chill out and be zen like our old dog Casey.

And at the end of the day, I choose to live with joy. Joy for myself, for my donor, and for those who can't experience life to its fullest quite just yet.

And I won't let anyone bring me down.

So for all of you who are out there reading this, who have pets...take a cue from them, and allow yourself to be silly and happy, because sometimes, you don't need a concrete reason to be. Sometimes.....just be.

Post-tx life is like...

a breakup.

They say that when it comes to a break up, that it takes roughly half the length of time that you dated the person to fully get over them. So if you dated for 4 years, it would take about 2 years to get over them.

Compredre? Good.

I'm choosing to view post-tx life in the same way, b/c to be honest, I'm having trouble coming to terms with being 'normal'. I spent so much time being busy dying, that I failed to ever register what it truely means to be normal. So the way i see it, I spent 2 years dying, maybe it will take me a full year to be normal. Initially, I was going to say that since I was on the list for 15 months, it would take me about 7.5 months to feel normal, but to be honest, that's coming up and i'm probably feeling the least normal that one could possibly feel. So i'm gonna go with, "well, I was busy dying for 2 years, so it's going to take an additional year for me to come to terms with being normal and not dying. So yeah....fuck you" kinda sentiment.

I think that's very good.

I always knew that post-tx i would struggle mentally, just coming to terms with a new way of life. If you've never spent a significant portion of your life dying, then you won't understand that it really does consume you heart and soul. You spend all your time preserving energy, and not doing anything, and becoming accustomed to not doing anything, that once you're able to, you don't really know how to function and go about doing normal things. So you sit, and you get bored, and you think about the fact that you're a total loser b/c you can't come to terms with yor new life, and you see everyone around you doing normal people things, like working (good jobs too) and going to school, and balancing it all, that you sit and wonder, 'how the fuck do i do that? how can i do what they do?' and then i realized, 'idiot, you just had an effing transplant 5-6 months ago: IT TAKES TIME!'

I constantly need to remind myself of this fact. I seem to think that I need to be moving at lightning speed and be up to par with everyone, and to be honest, half the time, I don't have the energy to. I know a huge portion is the medication, another portion is the weather (winter sucks and needs to die), and all that. My issue is getting motivated to do stuff...b/c once i do stuff i feel fine...it's just getting started. I'm enjoying school a bit more so that's good. This week was horrible: had no motivation, wanted to be eaten and lost in the couch or my bed and not move...i felt like a sloth embedded and encrusted in mud. I beleive i even resorted to sitting on the floor in the shower one day b/c I just couldn't bring myself to stand any longer.

I got my monthly IV today and i feel tons better, and I know that's another reason for feeling sloth-like. Used my port and it worked fab! Got a pic of it accessed and will post it, as well I will get another pic of my fingers to showcase how they are healing. It looks like soft, incredibly vulnerable baby skin. And it's wrinkly. But back to my IV, i'm gonna ask at my assessment on Monday if it would be ok for me to get my IV every 3 weeks instead of 4 to see if that helps? The week that i go for my IV i just feel like a total zombie and it sucks. I hate feeling like this, so I will ask!

Um what else? Also responsible for restoring me from being a zombie to being a human again, as always, is tea. Tho, i've had 3 teas from Tims today (from the hosp) and they all tasted like utter crap which is extremely upsetting to me. I like English breakfast and quite frankly, either the chick at Tims has something against me, or someone snuck in some cinnemon-like product into my tea and blatently ruined it. I dunno who or what it is, but it just tastes awful and I do not like them. I came home and made a tea and it's a little bit meh-ish, so i'll have to brew a 5th and see how it is. Megs mentioned in her blog (giving me an honourable mention, thanks darling) that she herself is addited to tea, and finds that she can fully function with about 6 teas in her system. Full credit goes to me of course. I'm somewhat responsible for this addiction. I said 6 teas a day is understandable, as it restores vitality, sanity, and is potentially life-saving. My friend Robert says that society should be thankful that he consumes 6 teas a day as it makes him approachable and is more or less an act of public service.

Either that or have a Scottish Breakfast or Irish breakfast.

I think that's it for today my children. I had a dream about Karyn the other night. It's been a long time since i've had a visit from her and it was nice. She was in the hospital (her hair had grown back too, really long), and she was in a wheelchair/gurney. She was going in for brain surgery but she knew she was dying/going to die. Either way, she was sooooooooo happy (it stood out so clearly). She was telling me stuff about being in the hospital but i don't remember it now. I leaned down and hugged her and she hugged me back and smiled, and as we hugged she said 'I love you' and i said it back, and then I woke up.

It was nice. Thanks K, it's been a while.

So that concludes today's lesson. TGIF!

"Forever Young..."

"...I want to be forever young/Do you really want to live forever?/Forever?And ever?"

HAPPY NEWS ON THIS DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After 2 years, my dear dear friend Amy V, who re-located from New Brunswick to await her second double lung transplant, got the call today and went into surgery at 4pm!!!!!!!! Any thoughts and prayers sent her way would be muchly appreciated! She waited long and hard for this and i'm sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo happy for her!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Second, and ironically, today marks 6 years since the passing of my dear friend Karyn. 6 years and i can't believe it. I miss you tons but i know you're up there watching over, and maybe you even had a hand in today's events? As i state every year on this day, Karyn was an organ donor and saved 11 people's lives. Can you define hero for me, please??

In another twist of irony, "Forever Young" was playing on the radio today and i found myself happily (and horribly) singing along to it....Did you have a hand in that too, K? Maybe? There are no coincidences...

"Yearbook write up found, in her pocket, at the accident scene: "Someone once told me, live for what you love, die for what you beleive in, always remember who your friends are, and when the day comes, hold your head up, it's not an end, merely a second start...never stop dreaming, dreams make life bearable. They give you hope and that's exactly what i have...this is my second start."

And i recommend you people go to my side bar and check out Merv Sheppards blog. He outlines the brilliant success Trillium Gift of Life had in 2009, seeing over 200 organ donations made. In Ontario alone, there were 102 lung transplants! WAY TO GO!!!!!!!!

**FINGER UPDATE**

Middle finger, goo-filled finger popped in the shower the other night, promptly deflating and releasing a steady stream of goo everywhere soon after. The excess skin soon caved in and made a grotesque looking pile on the top of my finger, where it remains, but is hidden beneath a bandaid.

There is no pain. Thank-you for your concern and words of support.

Crippled Update

Went to the docs today to firstly, inspect the incision from my port surgery on my neck, and second, to inform my doc of my current state of crippled-ness.

First, neck incision is fine. Not infected, just has a bundle of scar tissue underneath and will scar a little hard. She wrote me a 'script for an antibiotic though incase the inflammation doesn't go away, but i will only begin it if that is the case.

I go back in a week.

Second, i showed the doc my fingers. The verdict is in and I have 3rd degree burns. I have to put Polysporin on the blisters repeatedly and keep them covered with bandages and gauze until they erupt. The blister on my middle finger is the worst, as it looks like a dome and is roughly the size of a dime. You know those googly-eyed fish at the top? The blister looks like that. Like if it bumps into something it will explode goo everywhere.

Will keep you updated on the current state of my goo-encased crippled finger.

Crippled

I am crippled.

I got crippled this morning at roughly 11am when I made a shoddy effort to pour steaming hot bacon grease from the pan into a wobbly container, and alas, it missed the wobbly container and instead flowed freely over not one, but three of my fingers.

Soon followed were shouts of 'fuck', 'omg', 'oh my fuck', and banging. It was witnessed and said witness failed to take action and save me, and rather opted to remain in a laying position on the couch, looking over their shoulder at the actions unfolding before them.

I spent a good hour with my hand thus submerged in a cup of cold water, and any attempt at removing it proved to fail and caused the pain to come surging back with a vengence. Dad brewed me up a cup of tea, saying that the tannin in the tea would act as an agent to draw the pain out. Well, submerging my hand in cold tea worked fine, until it came to removing it from the tea, whereupon the pain surged back and forced me to re-submerge it.

I tried aloe vera and gauze. It failed.

I tried baking soda and water to make a paste. It failed.

I tried packing my hand in ice. It failed.

And then my friends, a genius idea struck me. Instead of walking around with my hand planted in a bowl of cold tea all day, thus rendering me somewhat crippled and unable to do anything, why not get out some latex gloves I have upstairs, pump the afflicted fingers of said latex gloves with aloe vera gel, and wear the glove?

Any my friends, my invention work.

I now sit here, 6 hours after being smited by the hand of disability, with a single latex glove fully loaded with aloe vera gel and it's working well:)

So what have i done today you ask? How did i manage to use this to my advantage? Well, I determined that the best way to treat a horrible, triple fingered bacon grease burn is to let said mangled fingers steep in tea, then cry, complain, cry some more, complain to anyone who will listen, and then determine that latex gloves loaded with aloe vera lotion is just as effective - and continue to complain to anyone who will listen.

Which means you people.

Leeway

I've decided/learned that I am too hard on myself.

It's pretty obvious that in my last entry I was writing from an incredible place of mental turmoil, which is never fun, and I thank all 3 people for their kind comments! Today I woke from a great sleep (got ALL my readings for school done which always helps), and then the wheels in my head started turning and i started sinking into the "what the fuck do I do with life/how do i get there?" mode.

Mistake #1: thinking too hard too early in the morning.

Mistake #2: thinking with no tea in my system.

I can write this from a state of mental clarity. I'm on my 4th tea and am feeling pretty amped. I've decided that as for work, I will put that off till around April when the semester wraps up, and for the time being, focus on school and health instead. I think having a job while trying to manage school and my health would be too much, too soon, and work can wait. I'm only 5 months out of transplant, still have frequent appts and I think that would be putting a lot of undue stress on myself that I don't really need. That was stressing me out. Stressing me out so much that i was almost physically sick with wanting to drop out of school and say fuck it all.

But finally - finally! - a mental breakthrough today! AND I FEEL FABULOUS! Stress sucks balls but I do beleive you need it in order to realize what exactly you want, and elminate just what you don't need. Regardless of how much of a bitch stress is, I do beleive it has some purpose.

Also, a huge extended thanks goes out to English Breakfast tea for playing an imperitive role in restoring my sanity. I'm on #5 right now, and i feel sane. To again, quote my friend Robert, "It's a public service that i drink caffine....otherwise, don't come within 1000ft of me"

I agree - i'm quite a miserable bitch w/o tea in my system.

So yes, gone with stress. I'm done my readings for the week, i've come to academic conclusions (go see guidance and career councelor on Monday to get my career on track - which i finally know how to do!), don't worry about work, and just chill, and be zen, and enjoy every moment i am blessed to experience.

Hope you're all lovely.

Now comes the scary part

Life.

Oh life.

You slap me in the face at the worst of times.

You scare me when you creep up on me and remind me that it is time to remove myself from my sick little bubble that has kept me safe for these past 2 years and finally emerse myself into this world called 'life'. While it was not the most fun thing I could have ever done, you did have perks: worries were small; things were taken day to day; my days were governed and planned by how i felt and how much energy i had; i wore sweatpants all the time; i didn't need to worry about going out and finding a job or being back at school; i had no commitment to anything.

And now...I'm 5 months out, and while no one forced me to enroll back in school, i've got 1 online course that i'm doing and already feeling stress for; i want to start applying for jobs so i can get work and make up some much-needed money, maybe finally graduate in the spring(?), work a lot in the summer (which will be fine b/c i won't have academic commitments then - weeeeee!)...and maybe apply to a college to go through for counceling? We'll see...

So yea. I've been a ball of stress trying to make my way through this crazy jungle called 'what the fuck do i do now, life?' phase. It's scary when it just shows up unannounced. I no longer feel safe and protected by having the leisure of saying 'i'm a student', because honestly, i'm way past being a student, i want to be out there and doing a normal job...or at least something more focused rather than an undergrad.

One. Thing. At. A . Time.

I know.

But fuck.

Life. You're here; but why must you be so scary!?

Feeling Fab

Today's the first day in a loooooooooooooooooooong row of days that i feel 100% content and happy with everything in my life. With all the emotional turmoil that went on with me last week I'm finally feeling back to my old self and i'm so grateful that i have returned.

In celebration, i feel like making a nice homemade creamy chicken potato vegetable soup. Of course i decide to do this on a day where I can't actually utilize the kitchen as we're getting a new stove and fridge, so it looks like i'm gonna have to haul out the slow cooker and use that. I don't know what it is, but for once i'm full of energy and can't fathom a full day of sitting doing nothing. I want to be out and about and it feels nice!

It's so cold that I almost lost my hands today in the 2 seconds that i was outside. The dash from the car to the Scottish Shop made me almost lose my most valuable appendages and I think a nice home made soup is just what this weather calls for!

I want this feeling to laaaaast!

Hope you're all well and feeling fab!

Olan Mills - Purveyors of Awkardness since 1890

http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/2009/12/08/headfakes/

To quote one genis comment from the aforementioned link, "Good to know the greatness of awkward photos has been around for over 100 years..."

Many on the site speculate that this photo could be amongst the first original 'headpile' photos, which were huge in the 80's (anyone remember Full House or even better, Step-by-Step?). If you inspect the photo closely you will see that it's the chick in the front who's really at fault for the awkwardness in this photo, what with her day hat being half a foot in height thus subsequently blocking the person behind hers veiw, causing the entire family to lean over at opposite angles and in the end making the general formation of awkwardness possible.

I can just imagine them going, "lets do something silly!", thinking they'd throw the photog for a loop by going out their way to create the awkwardness for one and all present on that April day of 1890. What fails to do it for me is the lack of smiling...(something to do with the flash stealing your soul or something...)

That's all for today. Class dismissed.

Welcome, December

I'm pretty sure if i look out my window and at the thermometer I won't see the temp listed as any actual numberical value but rather it will just read "COLDER THAN HELL" instead. Yes, my people, winter has officially descended upon us and if ever there were a time when people ran the risk of freezing their genitals off, it would be now. We now enter the season most responsible for depression, suicide, and highly expensive vacations. Goodbye sunshine, beaches, and sandles; hello mittens, hats, scarves, colds, flu, the shakes, weight gain, misery, and diahrrea.

It's not even winter yet and I'm already counting down the months until spring time: 3 to go. And why is it that Februrary - the shortest month of the year - seems to be the longest and is always the coldest? February drags on and on and on....summer flies by. It makes no sense to me but whatever.

Yesterday saw me in a state of 'blah' followed by a little 'bleh' and 'meh' on the side. I was feeling restless for some mysterious reason and it didn't go over well with me. No matter what I did - or didn't do - i could't be satisfied and felt like i should be doing something else. I felt like I needed to spaz but even then, spazzing wouldn't help.

So i went to bed at 8pm.

And woke up at 9am.

I slept like a champ. A CHAMP I SAY! 13 glorious hours of nothing but sleep. And i feel tons better! I'm keeping myself occupied in my room by writing out herbal remedies to things (shut up, Ashley) and the like. Anything to give me a change of scenery that was yesterday. It's grey and miserable today but i feel a lot better and that's all that really matters to me!!!!

I can't think of anything else to write though. If i do, I shall post it, but until then, stay classy my kittens.

When Doctors do Weird/Human things

like...

- eat muffins

- kiss babies

- spit in your eye by accident

- drool accidentally whilst talking to you

- are seen in public doing normal things

- walking babies

- with their family

- smoking

- eating in general

- on their blackberries

- laughing at normal things

- laughing with friends

- doing non-medical things

- sleeping

- wearing clothes that aren't scrubs

- wear winter coats

- doing nothing

- sitting down

- talk about person shit that doesn't pertain to you

Have you seen doctors doing normal things? Normal things that for doctors, thus become weird? Alex and I are having this conversation and we came up with quite the list.

What are your observations of bizarrenes?

In other news, the trip to TO was good yesterday. No more amphotericin nebs, down to 15mg of pred, arranging port-o-cath surgery, and am taking T2's again after being mauled by an over-enthusiastic doctor yesterday who crushed me.

"Great to see you!" *squish*

Technology this...

...technology that.

Are we really so lazy these days that we can't carry books around in our bags and need some contraption created by Amazon to digitally upload books to read? Are our fingers so crippled from fucking around on BlackBerry and Facebook and MSN that we physically can't bring ourselves to flip a damn page anymore and have to resort to merely touching a 'one-touch' button and have some computer chip do it for us? Because that's where it seems the world is going.

I just saw a little news feature on an iBook, where, god forbid people set foot in a book store and roam around whilst looking for desired literature to enjoy...No, lets just go online, upload the book, and only enjoy the 10% of it.

I dunno about you, but maybe I truely am a book whore. Maybe i put too much emphasis on having the physical thing in my hands. I like the feel of books - the weight, the design, the feel of the pages and covers and stuff...I like the smells of new and old books...and I like watching my collection grow!

I think if i had an iBook I would cry, b/c i'd have nothing to show for my sick addiction. There'd be no sense of accomplishment at the end b/c there's nothing to book mark all the pages you've actually read through. It's just touch, touch, touch, you're done. I dunno.

Maybe I have mental issues. Clearly i've put too much thought into the iBook.

Still no mailage from the Wildertimes. I'm beginning to think Canada Post hates my soul. To quote Jenna, "If Canada Post had a crotch to kick..."

Which i aptly came up the rear and replied with, "I'd kick it right in its ambiguous genitalia."

Today will be spent in my new Reading Hole - a lovely tiny couch located away from the kitchen and thus food and all the way over in the living room, where i will promptly melt into the asthetically ancient fabric of the 1980's style couch and into the world of either An Echo in the Bone, Galway Bay, or Dawn on a Distant Shore...

Oh Life...

I would like a little motivation, please.

A sprinkling would be sufficient for this mind 'o mine.

Reading chair+grey sky+heating pad on back+tea= incredibly comfy and unlikely to move any time soon.

I feel like if someone came into this room and grabbed my arm, they could just pull me off of this couch and i would deflate and melt into the hardwood floor.

I am just not motivated today, and I feel like I should be. But alas, here I sit, on this grey Sun Day, staring at my cats fat ass and a scummy fish tank, (and i stare longingly at the vacant fire place which dad swears he'll clean out and eventually light for me), and there isn't really any other place I would rather be.

Besides frollicking in a forest - if i had the energy to do it, which I don't.

I don't think anything is wrong with me from a medical stand point, i think it's just one of those days. Thankfully i've been on that stupid tummy medication for over a week now that the feeling of antsyness has disappeared. I am a very lucky girl.

Random, but here is what i've eaten today:
- 2 and a half peices of bacon
- 2 peices of multigrain toast with honey
- a Nature Valley bar
- a tea

Not too bad really, and probably doesn't really warrant a work out, but i still want to go for a walk at some point b/c there would be nothing worse than falling into that lack-of-exercise trap and melting into a puddle or pile of goo over time. There's nothing that makes me sadder than seeing fellower tx'ers who've gone and let themselves get fat after having their life given back to them. THAT WILL NOT BE ME. I CAN BREATHE AND I WILL NOT WASTE IT.

But i guess i'm entitled to a few lazy days?

My thing is, i know once i get off said lazy ass and walk, that I will feel better.

Oh why can't i live hear a rainforest? That would be motivation enough.

Until then, children. Enjoy your lazy sunday.