Posterous theme by Cory Watilo

Struggling To Handle Teeth & Stress

P654

I'm alone and watching "Man Woman Wild" in the quiet of my home as I try to not let my teeth troubles and financial woes aggravate my adrenal crisis to a full-blown attack.

It's difficult.

There's a large amount I want to write about but at the same time I can't focus on things properly. The current status of my endocrinological system is not good. Plus my blood pressure has been staying at a very low place. Under 100 every time. Not good.

While I'm not about to jump off a bridge, if I were to fall under my current illness and just not wake up I'd be as relieved as a dead body can be. I'm so freaking miserable right now from the degeneration of my system. Pathetic? Not really. Just worn out and not having any relief or breaks just has me ready to collapse. And collapsing when alone is frightening. Seriously frightening. Nausea and dizzy spells and things feel like I'm being just spun around so I can't tell which way is up.

4th of July, 2012

Sharp pains in various areas: my left knee feels blown out again; migraine with double vision; teeth definitely reacting negatively to the double brushing; bad thoughts going in circles & teasing the migraine as it t'were. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Plans tonight to attend a local carnival with Mel & James. I've also invited a couple of others because who can turn down fresh hot funnel cake? Not me! Not before I got fat and not now. The only thing that made Atlantic City bearable was the funnel cake. That and the room service and some free video game playtime.

Looking at the feasibility and desirability of relocating to Long Beach. The biggest concern is medical, of course. But with much cheaper rent, more realistic options of buying, maybe finishing up my two-year degree, basically being close enough to LA to make jobs in the Holywood industry easy to get to for whomever I have as a roommate, it certainly does seem like I'd have a roof over my head for longer than if I stay put. Though if I get Medi-Cal and disability I'll revise that. But right now, as I look ahead, it seems like a good option for me to take seriously.

Well the migraine and jaw pain added to fry mouth and blown knee have me ready to stop this mental self discussion regarding my possible future choices. To stay or not to stay, aye, now there is a question.

Ruminate on that.

You Can't Imagine These Things

(download)

I'm laying in bed as James goes outside to smoke and I tell him I'm crying and he asks why and I say partially because of vomiting and partially because of the movie I'm watching. Well, the movie makes me think of the book and the original, not this remake of "The Manchurian Candidate." The original and book depress me incredibly because of how fucking sad it is and this remake sucks ass. They really took the teeth out and made it a pretty pussy whipped version. But vomit and the originals can still have a strong effect.

I'm hurting so much at this point it's insane. Tomorrow is my last visit from my PT, Stacy. She told me on the phone today she's really sad that our time is up because of how much she likes me and our times together. Truly a sweetheart. Thursday I'm jammed into an appointment with my new GI, which is good what with the vomit and retching and (WTMI alert) rectal bleeding. My teeth are starting to really hurt. It's probably from the double-whammy of regular brushing topped with the anti-dry mouth prescription brushing I now follow it up with. And migraines. And lower back pain from bending and moving around more than I should.

Just bad. Bad, bad, bad.

Putting on "The Life Of Birds" by David Attenborough to ease my mind. He's so awesome. And of course he works with some of the worlds best cinematographers. So great voice, great visuals, and super close to them because he has been doing this for so very long.

Petal comes over and thinks about sitting on Femme Pois, who has curled up in a cute little ball of Miniature Doxie-ness. She doesn't sit quite on her, but close enough from my angle. Petal actually let Lolita hold her down to groom her! That was a pleasant shock to watch. I think seeing Petal looking rather much larger than Femme Pois makes me smile just when needed. Wow. Coots are seriously rough on their babies. Out of nine babies, they end up starting on the third day to beat their children so that they stop begging for food and thus starve to death, leaving them with a brood of mere two or three. Pelicans do a similar thing! The Chinese were just following nature, right?

I could use a hug right now. I'll have to make do with Femme Pois and Petal as I believe my other two are with James. *Huge Sigh*

Grrrrrrr!!!!!

(download)

Talking Heads helps a little but I got my sick & dizzy ass out of bed to see my new GI only to wait half an hour and only then did I get told my new GI wants the GI who saw me in the hospital to handle my case. Never mind I don't even recall seeing a GI doctor during any of my hospital stays this year.

So I'm stuck waiting to see what can happen, if they can double book to get me in next week. Just ridiculous bullshit. I hate hate hate GI stuff. The doctors, appointments, medications, all of it. Fifteen plus years of trying Eastern and Western. Fasting and cleansing and still I'll have bouts of a week of non-stop vomiting. Just miserable.

Watching "The Dark Crystal" 25th Anniversary DVD with a Lolita asleep effectively on my shoulder. Femme Pois curled up next to me on the couch as per her norm. Ein and Petal are both in the pet beds in my bedroom. Anyway, I'm watching the DVD for what I believe is the first time. I can't recall ever watching the movie before. Whether that's true or not doesn't matter because it feels like the first time. It's very lyrical. Very beautiful. Definitely draws you in and haunts you as other, later, movies seem as though they've been heavily influenced.

Aba sent a link out to a few of his old school raving buddies, of which I'm most definitely one. My first thought was about Josh and Aba and Grace and the crazy night the recording was from. My next was how much I wanted to share it with Shawn - the music and the fun math Aba attached. It's SO difficult reining those thoughts in. Talking to James in the car about how I know he doesn't care about me the same way and how it hurts so much. Still hurts incredibly. But like everything else I need to mask it and hide this terrible heartbreak.

My health and Diane's leap and the one year divorce anniversary and all of it has me drowning in a sense. Oh well. Time to migrate from the living room to my bedroom. Wheeeee!!!

Saturday Afternoon Blues

(download)

Blue skies.

Bright blue skies.

Outside my bedroom deck and small windows I see blue.

Some green from the trees adds a connection to the ground, whereas the white (fluffy) clouds drift by leaving no connections but to themselves.

My GP yelled at me in her gentle voice. No loud yells, just a worried tone remonstrating me because I avoided dealing with my Addison's and made myself much more sick. So a steroid shot upon reaching home, an extra dose of pills yesterday, and another shot today.

Three separate minor infections around my outer ear. Bruising appearing on my legs out of nowhere. And odd open small areas of skin I've never touched for the dermatologist to look at and tell me they mean nothing. Though bruises appearing like those clouds with areas that look picked at may mean nothing, they're certainly still abnormal enough to cause a second look.

A person I care about very much nearly died this week. We had plans to meet so I could use my last Souley Vegan voucher on a meal with her and James. When I contacted her to confirm she responded she was in the hospital after a series of events that nearly ended up with her death. Instead I luckily could take the lead and treat her, her mom, and James. It went over my voucher but the cost was minor to what it nearly was.

Last night after James had gone to his room to sleep after we had a full evening of discussion wrapped around the documentary "Shut Up Little Man!" there were noises that added to my encroaching full on screaming from the heebie-jeebies panic attack which I finally realized was merely the loud reverberations from his snoring and the echoes from his fairly empty, and thus echoey, room. Still had the panic attack but at least I wasn't hearing things from losing my mind.

It feels at such times as though I'm in yet another David Lynch movie. I've already been in so many! It gets tiresome. And worrisome. I wonder at such times where the breakdown began.

The whippets leading me to scare the hell out of Steven? The beach, full moon, making out with Aba where he swears he and so many others saw the Mother Ship? The car rolling over after jerking back and forth after the single sound of the double "Oh Shit!" and the crawling through the ketchup blood? Earlier? Later?

Rachel jumped. Diane jumped. Barrett with a hole in his heart. Fidelia hanging against the mirror on her door. Ivan and his lungs filled with fluid. Emma thrown from the back of a pickup. Del and Kathy in the car with me, one thrown, one crushed. The list stretches far back and in some way it stretches even further forward.

But my friend skipped the odds. I couldn't let go of her hand when we were finally alone and she could open up her heart to share how close and bad it was. I hope I tmissed those bullets? Because I keep wanting to cry from a mixture of fear and relief and an overflowing of love.

The air coming through my door and window brushes past me, feeling oh so lovely. Other words might fit but lovely fits ch better than most others currently. Refreshing. Light. Cool. Pleasant.

I keep falling asleep. So stopping here. Before I fall asleep yet again in the midst of my writing. Over and over.

Definitely must get a booster steroid injection. ŸI'm feeling this adrenal crisis escalating beyond the floating bruises. And so forth.

Do you share the blue skies?

Health Stuff

P589

So my ear infection(s), all outer, stem from my Addison's Disease and the high levels of stress my body has been going through, according to my GP. So a booster shot when we got home and either two more over the next two days, or the pills increased for several days.

The GI guy scheduled me for an endoscopy and a sigmoidoscopy for the end of the month to see if he can see any reasons for the vomiting and retching and blood from not good places and even the inevitable constant nausea.

The stress and strain overwhelm me and I found myself asking James if I'm in some kind of ororoborous (sp?) hellhole? Am I depressed this badly because my body can't handle the adrenal insufficiency or does my depression cause the adrenal crisis? Did Shawn's financial punch out of nowhere cause my ear to get three different places of infection or do they both happen at a similar time to cause me to want to follow where first Rachel and then Diane have led?

The pain and nausea are bad. The doctors have either seen it all before or they know to just mask their concern under quick explanations. But my GP saw me with no notice today. She offered yesterday. James and I both thought it highly unlikely she could fit me in, but called anyway. She said come in now. So we did and I've got a topical antibiotic and directions to use heat compresses and up my steroids for the next few days.

The similar situation with my GI guy. Two days notice squeeze me in and a quick push for a look inside to see, if anything, what's up. It doesn't weird me out anymore. But Steven and Erica's old joke about me being the making of some doctors name and reputation as he finds some new syndrome or disease attacking me sometimes hits a little too close to home. It's not for real, but it could be...if you know what I mean?

As usual, my terrible health days get hidden by my mask and I'm actually looking CUTE when I look in a mirror. How? No clue. But I do. I have a seriously cute look going on today. Feel like death but look beddable. I never get it. Maybe I've had to hide it for so long the mask has become almost immaculate and immediate upon the worse my illness gets. I don't know.

I wish I had somebody here that could document it. A cuddle buddy to massage the pain in my ass from the shot and twirl my hair through their fingers and photograph me in between the series we both enjoy getting sucked into. Oh well. I'll try for a quick self portrait and then go back to my Netflix and animal hoarders and how badly it makes me feel because my sister and I grew up with one who has all the ones I've seen beat. Her animals. Our chores. Now Greg's. It hurts because I know it hurts him though he hides it best he can from her. He loves her. Their love is incredibly codependent but that's their business. I just worry for both of them, incredibly. I bury it deep though, just like most things in my life.

Wrote Shawn a love letter. Why? Because it hurts enough when I bottle it up. So I may as well give him the truth so my Addison's doesn't have yet another stress buried deep killing me. Literally killing me. No joke. No melodrama. No lie.

The picture sucks, but it's all I can do to sit up long enough to snap it. Maybe tomorrow I'll still look cute enough to mask the disease ravaging my life - some people get it so it barely hurts. And some, like me, get hit a bit harder.

You Can't Imagine These Things

(download)

I'm laying in bed as James goes outside to smoke and I tell him I'm crying and he asks why and I say partially because of vomiting and partially because of the movie I'm watching. Well, the movie makes me think of the book and the original, not this remake of "The Manchurian Candidate." The original and book depress me incredibly because of how fucking sad it is and this remake sucks ass. They really took the teeth out and made it a pretty pussy whipped version. But vomit and the originals can still have a strong effect.

I'm hurting so much at this point it's insane. Tomorrow is my last visit from my PT, Stacy. She told me on the phone today she's really sad that our time is up because of how much she likes me and our times together. Truly a sweetheart. Thursday I'm jammed into an appointment with my new GI, which is good what with the vomit and retching and (WTMI alert) rectal bleeding. My teeth are starting to really hurt. It's probably from the double-whammy of regular brushing topped with the anti-dry mouth prescription brushing I now follow it up with. And migraines. And lower back pain from bending and moving around more than I should.

Just bad. Bad, bad, bad.

Putting on "The Life Of Birds" by David Attenborough to ease my mind. He's so awesome. And of course he works with some of the worlds best cinematographers. So great voice, great visuals, and super close to them because he has been doing this for so very long.

Petal comes over and thinks about sitting on Femme Pois, who has curled up in a cute little ball of Miniature Doxie-ness. She doesn't sit quite on her, but close enough from my angle. Petal actually let Lolita hold her down to groom her! That was a pleasant shock to watch. I think seeing Petal looking rather much larger than Femme Pois makes me smile just when needed. Wow. Coots are seriously rough on their babies. Out of nine babies, they end up starting on the third day to beat their children so that they stop begging for food and thus starve to death, leaving them with a brood of mere two or three. Pelicans do a similar thing! The Chinese were just following nature, right?

I could use a hug right now. I'll have to make do with Femme Pois and Petal as I believe my other two are with James. *Huge Sigh*

Grrrrrrr!!!!!

(download)

Talking Heads helps a little but I got my sick & dizzy ass out of bed to see my new GI only to wait half an hour and only then did I get told my new GI wants the GI who saw me in the hospital to handle my case. Never mind I don't even recall seeing a GI doctor during any of my hospital stays this year.

So I'm stuck waiting to see what can happen, if they can double book to get me in next week. Just ridiculous bullshit. I hate hate hate GI stuff. The doctors, appointments, medications, all of it. Fifteen plus years of trying Eastern and Western. Fasting and cleansing and still I'll have bouts of a week of non-stop vomiting. Just miserable.

Watching "The Dark Crystal" 25th Anniversary DVD with a Lolita asleep effectively on my shoulder. Femme Pois curled up next to me on the couch as per her norm. Ein and Petal are both in the pet beds in my bedroom. Anyway, I'm watching the DVD for what I believe is the first time. I can't recall ever watching the movie before. Whether that's true or not doesn't matter because it feels like the first time. It's very lyrical. Very beautiful. Definitely draws you in and haunts you as other, later, movies seem as though they've been heavily influenced.

Aba sent a link out to a few of his old school raving buddies, of which I'm most definitely one. My first thought was about Josh and Aba and Grace and the crazy night the recording was from. My next was how much I wanted to share it with Shawn - the music and the fun math Aba attached. It's SO difficult reining those thoughts in. Talking to James in the car about how I know he doesn't care about me the same way and how it hurts so much. Still hurts incredibly. But like everything else I need to mask it and hide this terrible heartbreak.

My health and Diane's leap and the one year divorce anniversary and all of it has me drowning in a sense. Oh well. Time to migrate from the living room to my bedroom. Wheeeee!!!

Well, Hell.

I've really stretched myself, going out to every promised thing no matter how I felt. My right ear has two slight outer infections. One in the stretched lobe and the other at the bottom of the outer canal. And besides being effectively physically wrecked, my mental state is worrying the heck out of me too.

Went to Souley Vegan with James last night and to The Fillmore for the Comedy Central taping of Amy Sch? I can't remember her last name and I'm hurting too much to dig around for it. Anyway, James drove and we picked up Mel. I took them out to the Taco Bell before rolling on up to the small but growing line. Wheelchair and cane moved us to the front and got Mel a chair of her very own.

Driving through my old neighborhood was slightly painful. There's where I lived across from Josh with Aba trying every so often to patch up a friendship and Grace would shake her head at what I would tolerate. That's the roof where Paul photographed me in one of our shoots. There's where I did my 6am party with Christopher and others. Hell, that's where I ran into Kurt in yet another of our 25 year intertwined cosmic bumps. That's where I saw a friend fall out his window whilst I was coming down off an acid trip. And so on...

It just bubbles down low so it seems like it can't hurt anymore. But Diane just brought so much to the surface and I can't push it back down. Down that hill is where Fidelia hung herself on her bedroom door and Daniel had me move in that room upon my return from the UK. It's like my head is trapped in these echoes and I desperately need somebody to love and protect me as I become more ill because it's too scary doing this by myself. Today I had pain and sweats and heart palpitations and this weird ear infection thing and yet I still got dressed up in a dress James picked out for me as "really cute." I added Mylinn's shawl and my first mother-in-law's rhinestone necklace, and wondered why I had dead friend's accoutrements as my first choice. Some red lipstick and, while I'm fat and in a wheelchair, I was ready to go out to see why I'm here.

No answer.

At least not yet.

My ear's bleeding again. The stretched part, not the canal part. Sigh. Huge, heavy sigh. The pain in my arms and stomach and tailbone and so forth has me worn down. But I'm still not a lemming.

Again, at least not yet.