#i am tired and almost done with my antibiotics

[coridallasmultipass]

Ugh, I started typing an informal essay on the event, but I hit the image limit for a text post, so idk. Maybe I'll just break it up into smaller posts and ramble more in detail about each instance I was showing? A problem for Future Cori.

[lemmylemons]

Losing my shit I wish my parents would give a fuck about my health

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

It'd be great if I could go a whole month without being sick, that would just. that would be really nice.

[bobendsneyder64]

Okay so I still have this....

I fucking feel like a walking virus

[onceuponafosterkid]

Every now and then I am reminded how hard it is being an adult foster youth. I’m only 21, I don’t know what the heck I’m doing. This week was really hard. I got sick on Monday while I was at work, but I have this fear of letting people down so I toughed it out. I got home and I had a fever of 103. I took some Tylenol but I can’t afford groceries right now so I don’t have any cold medicine or anything. I took Tuesday off of work thinking I needed a day to just recover. I mean, I’m working full time, taking three classes one of which is a two and half hour in person class twice a week after work so I thought maybe I was overdoing it right? But I’m pushing myself physically to avoid what’s going on mentally and yes I’m in therapy I know that’s not good but it’s what’s keeping me alive for right now. Anyway I go back to work on Wednesday but I have a cough and a headache and I just don’t feel great but I already took a day off I don’t want to make my boss mad. After work I take an at home Covid test my foster mom gave me and it’s negative, so I go to urgent care because day three of having a fever that’s now reached 103.5 and I don’t know what’s wrong. Urgent care does a Covid test that I know is going to be negative because I just took one, and they send me home. So if they sent me home I must just be overthinking this right? Maybe it’s not that bad. But I can’t work until the fever is gone and nothing is making the fever come down the cough is triggering my asthma so on Friday my foster mom takes me to the ER and there I find out I have pneumonia. They rehydrate me because I have been unable to keep anything down and sweating so much that water does nothing for me, and they give some antibiotics and I’m able to go home while they send meds to the pharmacy and finally I’m feeling like it’ll be okay. But the Walgreens they sent the meds to is closed on weekends, and I’m not supposed to wait until Monday so I call and ask them to send it to a different location which I find out halfway through Saturday the pharmacy is actually closed. So I call back again and ask them to send it down the street to Walmart but then they never call in the meds. So I ask my foster mom to call them for me and ask them to send the meds because it’s almost Sunday and I’m starting to feel like crap again and the fever is gone but I can’t breathe and my inhaler is expired and they were supposed to send a new one. She called and they said they would send them and she said she’d pick them up so I spent today cleaning in preparation for feeling better once I get my meds and once I’m done cleaning I sit on my floor and I start crying because I feel so freaking alone. Which is stupid because my foster mom has been taking care of me this whole time, sending me food and taking me to the ER but I can’t help but feel guilty because it’s not her job anymore to take care of me and she’s got a family at home, six kids counting on her but I don’t have anyone else to go to for help. I’m 21, I’m single, my bio family has left me again and it’s just been a really long week you know? It’s not like I have friends I can’t talk to, I lost them all when the assault at Wendy’s happened so I’m just sitting here fucking crying because I’m tired and it sounds very stupid but I’ve realized that it’s nobody’s job to help me. I’m in this alone and usually I can pretend that doesn’t hurt but not this week, not right now. But that’s just what happens when you age out. You’re alone unless you can find people and apparently I’m not very good at finding other people and I don’t know why. Anyway, I just needed a moment I guess. I feel like 12 year old me sitting outside my cottage at residential wondering if I’ll always be alone. I wish I could tell her the answer is no, but at this point in time I don’t have the answer she needs so for now I’m just crying with her.

[muridae3]

Bliss in Domesticity | Harvey x Donny

In Pelican Town, Dr. Harvey and his husband Donny brighten the lives of their community with care and compassion. Despite challenges, their love and dedication win hearts, fostering acceptance.

Special thanks to @tuuna-jsgross for allowing me to use their character, Donny! I hope I did him justice.

“I understand your views, Mr. Mullner. However, the closest doctor other than myself is a forty-five minute drive away. I cannot in good conscience let you travel all that way in your current state.” Harvey sighed, setting down his stethoscope.

George stifled a cough, grumbling. “How can two men get married? It's unnatural... Hmmph.” 

“George, dear, please…” Evelyn pleaded from the other side of the bed. “Just let him treat you. I haven’t heard a single complaint about him from the neighbors, and he’s been here nearly ten years.”

This made Harvey balk. 

Ten Years?

Had it really been ten years since he and Donny ditched everything in Zuzu city to move to a failing clinic in the middle of nowhere? It seemed like yesterday, yet the change in the town was evident– the clinic, once dilapidated and failing, was now thriving under Harvey’s care. He had many patients that he cared for, including the one in front of him. 

“I assure you, my level of care for my patients has not changed. I am the same doctor I was before I married Donald. Please, Mr. Mullner, let me help you.”

George said nothing, glaring at Harvey. 

“George…” Evelyn trailed off, looking more scared than Harvey had ever seen her.

George’s gaze softened when he realized his wife’s fear. “Fine. But I’m watching you.”

Harvey nodded, his expression serious. “I understand. Your health is my priority, Mr. Mullner. Let’s get you better.”

Harvey’s hypothesis had been correct– George was battling a serious case of pneumonia. He was optimistic, though– a round of antibiotics, good food, and strict bed rest should fix him right up.

“I’m sorry about what he said, Doctor.” Evelyn sighed, closing the front door to the house. “I’ve tried to convince him that a marriage between two men is the same as ours, but he just won’t listen. He means well, but…”

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Mullner. It’s not the first time I’ve heard it, and it certainly won’t be the last. Change takes time, after all. Now, you should go back inside. I don’t want you catching cold in all this snow.”

“You can call me Granny, dear.” She said, smiling sweetly.

Harvey left her with detailed instructions for George’s care and a promise to return the next day before walking back to the clinic. 

Though it was a short walk, Harvey’s fingers were partially numb by the time he got back to the clinic. Every year, the winters seemed to grow colder.

 After struggling with the lock, he finally got inside and shut the door behind him. 

“That you, Harv?” He heard someone call from the back office.

Harvey couldn’t help but smile. His husband was home.

“It’s me!” He responded, quickly removing his coat before entering the office. 

Donny was sitting at the computer, typing notes from the day’s appointments. 

“How was your day, darling?” Harvey asked, planting a small kiss on top of his husband’s head.

“Better, now that you’re here.” Donny said, grinning. 

Harvey felt his cheeks heat up. He would never get tired of Donny’s compliments. 

“How was Mr. Mullner? I know Granny was worried about him.” Donny turned away from the computer to look at Harvey.

“You know I cannot discuss patient details with you. HIPPA and all.” Harvey began unpacking his travel medical bag. “I can tell you that he will most likely recover.”

“Oh, good.” The relief in Donny’s voice was evident. “I hate seeing her upset.”

“Me too. Coffee? It’s freezing out there.”

“Yes please! I’m almost done, I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Harvey left the office and entered the apartment, getting two mugs from the small kitchenette and setting the coffee maker to brew. 

Flopping onto the couch, he turned the television to the history channel. 

Donny soon made his way upstairs, bringing the two steaming mugs over to the tiny sitting area.

“Thank you, honey.” Harvey gratefully took the mug into his still-cold hands, reverently inhaling the scent of the steaming liquid.

“I will never get over the way you enjoy coffee.” Donny said, chuckling as he sat down.

“Without the olfactory input, the coffee experience would simply be incomplete.” Harvey stated matter-of-factly. 

Donny stretched out, propping his feet on the small end table and placing his head in Harvey’s lap.

Harvey subconsciously pet his hair, taking a sip from his mug. “We can buy a larger couch, you know.”

“I know, dearest. But if we did that, I wouldn’t be able to do this anymore. And I like looking at your pretty face.”

Harvey rolled his eyes, blushing in spite of himself. 

A comfortable silence fell over the two, Harvey watching the television and Donny watching Harvey. 

Before long, though, Harvey’s mug was empty. He felt so comfortably warm from the combined heat of the coffee and his husband. And Donny’s head on his lap was providing enough pressure to help his muscles relax. Though he kept a rigid sleep schedule, it wouldn’t hurt to rest his eyes, just for a moment…

After the program ended, Donny looked up at Harvey and smiled, seeing he was asleep. Gently sitting up, he took the empty mugs and put them in the sink before draping a blanket over Harvey. He softly kissed his forehead before silently leaving the apartment to pick up dinner. 

Harvey woke up to the smell of something delicious in the apartment. He rubbed his eyes and adjusted his glasses, cringing when he saw his watch. He had been asleep for over an hour.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He asked, stretching.

Donny shrugged, humming an ‘I-Don’t-Know’ as he set two plates onto the table. “You just looked so peaceful. It was cute.”

“What did Gus have tonight?” Harvey got up from the couch, crossing to the small table. 

“Fiddlehead risotto.” Donny opened the box with a flourish, revealing the steaming pasta.

“Mmm. Smells good.” Harvey inhaled the scent, sitting down in his usual chair.

“Everyone at the saloon was wondering where you were.” Donny said with a chuckle. 

“Did you tell them I was sleeping?”

“I told them that their wonderful doctor was working hard to provide them the utmost care.” 

Harvey smiled slightly. “You could have woken me up, I would have gone with you.”

“I needed to walk. Being in the car all day has made me stiff.” He said, stretching.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just see your patients in the clinic…” Harvey sighed.

“Because they pay me more if I go to them. And someone has to fund your model airplane addiction.” Donny said with a sly smile.

“I suppose so.” A blush once again spread across Harvey’s cheeks. 

After dinner, Harvey cleaned up the apartment while his husband jumped in the shower. He turned the radio to the Jazz station, humming along to the music as he wiped the table down. 

He was so lost in the music, he didn’t see Donny exit the bathroom and sneak up behind him, grinning. He grabbed his waist, spinning him around and waltzing in time with the music on the radio. 

Harvey leaned his head on Donny’s bare chest, smiling at the Mermaid’s Pendant. “You never told me why you changed your mind.”

“Hm?” Donny hummed, turning them in a small circle. 

“On marriage. You said you never wanted to get married after your parents…”

“I was afraid we’d end up like them. And I didn’t…” Donny smoothed Harvey’s hair. “I didn’t want to lose you. But I realized that we’re probably more emotionally mature than they were.”

“And are.” Harvey looked up at Donny.

“And I knew you wanted to get married.”

“I would have been fine just being with you, darling.”

“I know. But I like the way the little pendant looks on you.” He said, lowering Harvey into a dip. 

Harvey grinned as Donny pulled him back to his feet. He planted a chaste kiss on his husband’s lips. “Not to ruin the moment… but you missed that spot on your neck again.”

“Ah, shoot. Care to help me out?”

“Yes. I will not have my husband going in public looking like a ragamuffin.” He pulled Donny back to the bathroom, hoisting himself up onto the counter before grabbing a razor and shaving cream. He trimmed the excess hairs with surgical precision, smiling with satisfaction as he put away the instruments and looked at his work. 

“Thanks, honey.” Donny placed a kiss on Harvey’s forehead and picked him up, cradling him to his chest. 

Harvey yelped, not quite used to the sensation even after the two decades they had been together. “How can you still pick me up?” 

“You’re not that heavy, love. Plus, I’m really strong.” He shifted Harvey to one arm, flexing his muscles to prove his point. He set Harvey down onto the bed before getting a shirt and a pair of Harvey’s pajamas.

“Thanks, love.” Harvey took the pajamas and went to the bathroom, doing his nightly routine as usual.

By the time he emerged from the bathroom, Donny was already sound asleep. He set his alarm, took off his glasses, and gently slipped into bed beside Donny. Wrapping his arms around Donny’s frame, he closed his eyes, falling into sleep. 

The next morning, Harvey woke up to a cold bed. He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders as he got out of bed, shuffling to the coffeemaker and setting it to brew.

“You forgot these, love.” Donny slipped Harvey’s glasses onto his face. He had already changed into his scrubs. 

“Thanks. You’re up early today.” Harvey said, stifling a yawn.

“I got an early appointment. And so do you, if I recall. You should get ready.”

“But it’s so cold outside… and it’s so warm in here.” He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. 

“Come on, doc.” Donny took the blanket off of Harvey’s shoulders. “I want a hug before I go.” 

“You are always welcome to a hug.” He wrapped his arms around Donny, squeezing him gently before letting him go. “Have a good day, sweetie. I love you.”

“I love you too, Harv.” Donny kissed the top of his head before leaving the apartment. 

Harvey sighed, returning the blanket to the bed and getting ready for the day. 

He pulled his jacket a little tighter around himself as he left the clinic, headed towards the Mullner’s. The winds were so strong, he could barely get the door open. 

He was surprised to hear voices coming from the bedroom. 

“I understand you’re a little under the weather, Mr. Mullner. I’m happy to reschedule if you’re not up for an evaluation.” 

“I don’t think I need a physical therapist at all.” George grumbled. “But Evelyn insisted, and I’m not paying a missed appointment fee. Do what you have to.”

Harvey was confused, but he didn’t want to violate patient privacy, so he sat in the living room, patiently waiting for George’s first appointment to end. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Doctor!” Evelyn exclaimed, exiting the kitchen. “I completely forgot I scheduled both of you at the same time. Memory’s not what it used to be.” 

“Quite alright, Mrs. Mullner.” Harvey said. “I’m happy to come back this afternoon.

“That would be lovely. Thank you for understanding. I’ll give you the late fee then, is that alright?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Harvey said, standing to leave. “I’ll see you this afternoon, okay?”

“You’re a dear.” Evelyn opened the door for him, and he stepped out into the cold morning.

He had a minute before the clinic opened, so he decided to stop at Pierre’s to pick up some groceries. 

When he left, arms full of bags, he was surprised to see Donny leaving the Mullners and headed to the clinic. 

“Donny? I thought you would have left by now.” Harvey said, surprised. 

Donny took the bags from Harvey. “I had to see my first appointment.” 

Harvey finally put two and two together. “It was you?” 

“Can’t tell you. HIPPA. But I can tell you that ol’ George is warming up to me.” 

“Finally.” Harvey said, sighing with relief. He unlocked the clinic, letting Donny go in first before shutting the door behind them. 

“I’ll put these up. I don’t have to be over in Grampleton until noon.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Harvey made his way back to the main office, setting his bag down before sitting at the computer to type out some notes.

As he typed, his mind wandered to his past with Donny. They had been happy at their hospital jobs, but neither of them had been cut out for the hustle and bustle of city life. When the opportunity to buy a failing clinic in tiny, middle-of-nowhere Pelican Town had arisen, Donny had happily agreed to follow him there. He had been instrumental in modernizing the old building, but he had been happy to resume his job as a physical therapist through a traveling agency. Even though Harvey had been worried about revealing the true nature of their relationship to the good people of the Valley, Donny had no qualms about telling people. Surprisingly, they were accepted with little pushback. Even people like George were starting to come around. The entire town had attended their wedding just six months ago. 

Harvey realized that this was his ideal life— sure, he had wanted to be a pilot, but what he really wanted was someone to go through life with. And he had found exactly that in Donny.

“I’m headed out.” Donny said, entering the main office.

Harvey stood, hugging his husband. “Be safe. I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too, Harv.” Donny said, returning the embrace. 

The two shared a gentle kiss, and Harvey relished in the fact that he was completely satisfied with how his life had turned out. 

[bomberqueen17]

a week

hoo boy it has been A Week.

i keep thinking that i haven't worked all that hard this week really, but then i think about what's been going on, and like, yeah ok, i have done a lot. i've been really really tired every night. i've had almost no free time. i thought about going to see the barbie movie since everyone is, but i really truly simply just did not have time. behind the cut is just me sort of loosely recounting this week, minus the hospital adventures. (My finger is healed, if weirdly itchy in one spot, and I've got four more days of antibiotics about it?)

i spent time every day over at dude's aunt's house with his mom. i hadn't thought she'd need me thursday but then she texted to ask when i was coming, lolsob, so i got my laundry hung out and went over. i just hadn't asked, and i had assumed she'd mention it, and had built it up that i was going to get stuff done for myself that day. but then i didn't. i only went over there for a couple of hours, but it wore me out.

today we were only there for maybe an hour, not quite, and dude came too and we got a bunch of stuff removed. i keep not quite believing there's more. but there's more. there's always more.

i spent thursday afternoon and all but about an hour and a half of friday cleaning my own basement. and my own basement is not nearly so good. it's awful actually. there's so much shit that i put away not very carefully and it's wrecked now and honestly why was i keeping it anyway, and i need to just-- get rid of it, and i don't.... know... how... it's exhausting.

and i know, I know! what would make it so much easier, is that so much of the shit I have hoarded, not to put too fine a point on it, is stuff I want to use to make things, and if I just had like. IDK like maybe a week, let's say. During which I could just. Lay out and work on a bunch of projects with no other obligations. I know what would happen is I would realize that a lot of these carefully-hoarded things I've set aside to craft with are garbage really and my time would be better spent working with better materials. And then I'd throw them out! I know this sounds like wishful thinking but it has actually happened several times, I think I'm finally good enough at the things I want to do as hobbies that I feel able to let go of things that haven't worked, let go of things that aren't ideal, etc. We found out where all the textile recycling places are while clearing out Auntie's dragon-hoard of fabrics, and now I know, and I could let stuff go to that, I know I could. They take old shoes! I could do it.

I just don't have the time, which is frustrating. And so a lot of the cleaning I did is just rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. but those deck chairs are rearranged now, and the crucial thing is that when the movers come to take away our broken dryer and poorly-functioning washing machine, and give us Auntie's working ones instead (her washer is even OLDER than my nearly-unusable one from the 70s, it's kind of amazing, but ilke, you know what, why not, it would be amazing not to have to stand there holding the knob down the whole time it fills) they will be able to get in and out easily and we won't be paying them $225/hr to shimmy around my piles of junk. The front of the basement is now just like. Well I even mopped the floor, ok, so, if that means anything.

It doesn't, except to me. But there it is.

I am so tired. We got the guest bed taken apart; we're getting a fold-out couch in there instead, from Auntie's house, so that the room is more usable as an office. We'd been discussing that change for a long time. I was dreading to find out what's under that bed but it turns out almost nothing, refreshingly. Two strange boxes that contain things my sister left there when she lived in that house in 2007, but apart from that, just a whole lot of dust. Now that that's cleaned up, probably Dude's allergies will be better actually.

I knocked off work at 4:30 pm and took a shower and then we went out to dinner, and I made dude come for a walk with me around a local park, to do a Pokemon Go thing. He was amused. I asked him if he was having fun and he said "I have put myself into a place where I am enjoying this" which is familiar, honestly; I do that all the time. I realize a thing is just what's happening so I decide that I'm going to enjoy that however I can manage to, and usually it works.

I did get a tiny bit of writing done this morning, too, so there's that. But mostly this week was spent going through things and clearing out Dude's aunt's house. And that's what it is.

I'm headed back to the farm tomorrow. I need to work out how to cram things into my car effectively. I believe in myself. It'll be fine.

I'm so tired, and it's a chicken week coming up so I need to get my shit together. It'll be fine. I'm fine. God I could really use a whole day just-- mostly in bed. Wouldn't that be something! No I'd get too anxious. But a day reading. OMG Martha Wells put a new book out like a month ago and I haven't even bought it. Haven't even read an excerpt or summary. Haven't even looked at it. What would it be like to have time for that!

Someday.

[laurelnose]

good news! I don’t have a brain tumor 🥰

so basically what happened is

mid-december: i acquire Debilitating Migraine, 10 out of 10 worst pain I’ve felt in my entire fucking life Migraine, worse than the time I spent three weeks recovering from major surgery completely sober because I am inexplicably resistant to just about every class of painkiller I’ve ever tried Migraine. (I actually only rank the surgery experience about a 6 out of 10 on the pain scale.) we get the migraine down to Bad But Manageable by locating several new Christmas light strings that turned out to be flickering at speeds the human eye could not detect but my human brain certainly could and throwing them all out. I make a doctor’s appointment.

last week: I finally see my PCP. she prescribes me a triptan, which is an abortive med that is meant to stop migraine attacks. the triptan decreases the headache but does not remove it entirely. also, the damn thing keeps getting worse again. I try it three times over the week, which is the maximum number of times you’re supposed to take a triptan in a month. almost like you’re not supposed to have more than three headaches in a month or something?? weird. well, technically I haven’t had three. it’s all the Same Damn Headache.

this same day I also pick up a topiramate prescription, which is a preventative. i am advised i can start the topiramate even if i am not pain free. maybe if i give it a day or two it will help even if i am currently having an attack??

wednesday i see my PCP for followup and tell her i am still in pain. she offers to get me squeezed in to have an intramuscular toradol (heavy-duty NSAID) shot. this kicks in within 20 minutes and doubles my migraine pain. I was at 3-ish and now I am at 6 and unhappy about it.

i do not come back down from the level the toradol kicked me up to. i survive thursday by not doing very much of anything.

uh? holy shit? yeah, sure?

friday the pain becomes unbearable. back up to an 8, which isn’t the worst it’s been but it’s also Day Forty Fucking Two and I’m so tired. I leave work early & go to urgent care where they pump me fulla benadryl and dexamethasone. absolutely none of this is fun — the dexamethasone feels like a panic attack and the benadryl makes me dizzy and light-headed + makes it very hard to think of words? what the shit do people take benadryl recreationally for? but! the pain diminishes dramatically. after the IV’s done they get me in for a CT scan and are like hey! you don’t have a brain tumor! (I was not actually worried I had a brain tumor but it’s always nice to rule it out.) but you do have a sinus infection and a bunch of fluid buildup that’s probably triggering the migraine. (really? but I haven’t been congested?) yeah, no, it’s really deep in there. do you wanna do antibiotics and sudafed about that to clear up the fluid?

saturday morning the head pain is back but it’s mild and it feels LIKE A FUCKING SINUS HEADACHE and not a migraine anymore oh my god. Guess what kinds of headaches are fucking fixable and tend not to be intractable and unpreventable. It’s also like, a manageable amount of pain? It hurts but I feel okay?? I get thru work without taking my breaks in the dark with a heat pad? I look at headlights on the dark road coming home and am not immediately debilitated? 😭 Maybe in a week and a half when the antibiotics course is done I will actually just be Fine??

I really shoulda gone to urgent care back in December. Too bad I didn’t quite realize you could go to urgent care for migraines until I’d seen my PCP for the first time and that couldn’t happen earlier bc, well, appointments are hard to come by.

I’m wondering in hindsight if the triptan WAS kicking the migraine more effectively than I thought it was and i couldn’t tell because I had a sinus headache underneath (which kept bringing the migraine back). this also explains why I was getting decent results with Vick’s VapoRub LMAO. Like some people do swear by menthol for migraines but it was probably helping the congestion too.

anyways this is why I’ve been quiet. I will be quiet for a little while longer probably bc the sinus headache is still not fun but it is getting better. in fact i had to get up and eat breakfast to take my antibiotic but it is sunday and i don’t actually want to be awake so i think i’m going back to bed

i am never letting anyone talk me into taking another NSAID ever fucking again.

[infinityonhighvevo]

i know it’s personal but if you are ever interested in sharing that story on here i’d be interested in hearing it! <3

hehehehe thanks anon i love talking about my heart problems <3 medical story time below so trigger warning for all that; tldr i died but i got better

so i’m in my first semester of my sophomore year of college and i get sick. i’m the type of guy who gets sick a bunch but, having just come out of a COVID spike in the area i lived in, i was nervous. i go to the doctor and test negative so i assume it’s just a miserable cold. (i test negative another twelve times throughout the ordeal.) i have a fever for a few days; it goes away but i’m still coughing, short of breath but not wheezing, and tired. i’m sick like this for like six or seven weeks (yeah, weeks) before i go to my doctor again. after a clear chest x-ray she’s like, okay, your lungs sound like ass, it’s walking pneumonia, take ten days of antibiotics and get another x-ray if it doesn’t get better

meanwhile, i can’t walk anywhere because i can’t breathe, i have to stop while walking up the stairs to my fifth floor dorm room because my heart races any time i do more than two flights, my feet are crazy swollen, i have to sleep sitting up because i can’t breathe lying down, and i keep waking up at like 2 in the morning to pee because my muscles are so weak i genuinely can’t hold it. basically, i’m super gross. (and, as it turns out, dying.)

the ten days of antibiotics go by and i’m sicker than ever. i go get a second chest x ray through my school’s medical center. (which sucks, by the way. the people care but they can’t do shit.) i get a call at the end of the day from them: they want me to uber to the er for a CT. yeah. uber. props to them for not saddling me with an ambulance bill but i was for real dying and they should have done it anyway. my good friend is luckily free to drive me, though, so i scarf down some microwaveable mac and cheese (because college) and off we go.

i sit in the ER with a former friend for six whole hours before i get taken back. i get tested on, i throw up my maccy cheese, and finally at 2am i get told by the er doc, very bitchily, that i need to have a procedure done. i am the type of deathly ill where my brain just isn’t cognitively functioning, so i do not understand what he is saying. i ask if he can wait until the morning so my parents can be there. he rolls his eyes and is just as bitchy to my surgeon father who i call on the phone. i don’t end up having the procedure done, and my mom comes to get me first thing next morning. she takes me to the hospital my dad works at. i get my lung drained!

the x-ray that my school had sent me to get showed that my right lung had almost completely collapsed. for context, each lung can hold about a liter of air. i had 850mL of fluid drained from my pleural space, which is the sac surrounding the lung. it had almost completely collapsed my lung. the procedure was gross but not that painful. they stick a syringe between your ribs and pull the fluid out. you get numbed, so it just feels like weird pressure, but the fluid itself is nasty and murky. i felt better after my thoracentesis—still sick, but better. they kept me overnight for observation, thinking that it was just bad pneumonia from my asthma and that everything was fixed.

everything was not even close to being fixed. i slept like ass and felt even worse. at like 8am they did an echocardiogram, which is basically a heart ultrasound. by 10am i’d been moved up to a different wing and was shaking hands with the guy about to break my sternum open and save my life by stopping my heart for a few hours.

basically, i had a strain of strep that travels in the bloodstream. it had, by sheer force of terrible luck, infected my mitral valve, completely destroying it. we think i had a congenital defect, but the valve was so fucked when i got to the hospital that they literally couldn’t tell. if i hadn’t had surgery when i did, i think i would have only lasted another week. i got open heart surgery to replace my valve with a prosthetic, and then a pacemaker surgery five days later because my rhythm didn’t come back on its own. i got put on hardcore antibiotics for like six weeks that i lowkey became allergic to at the end.

overall, it was not a fun experience but it did dramatically shape me as a human being. i’m now a cyborg and i get cold/numb fingers and toes really easily. also my scars turn bright red when i drink, which is a fun party trick. i’m bluetooth enabled, which is terrifying, and i get special treatment at the airport, which is nice because i like attention. the best part? built in icebreaker for the rest of my life. the worst part was the dying. obviously.

seriously, though, if you’re short of breath for a while, have a fever at any point, and have swollen feet, have someone carry you to the hospital. those three together are big indicators that your heart is fucked.

[shion-yu]

Gave myself almost-pneumonia and my couch looks like a damn stock photo.

Since the whole time I’ve been like, “Am I living one of my shitty fanfictions? Coz this sucks.” Let me tell y’all a story.

Cold weather sucks as a severe asthmatic. I moved to the South so I didn’t have to deal with the frigid winters of upstate NY. I’m basically on and off sick until Spring comes (and then there’s allergy season but I digress). I think it’s helped some, but my lungs are just fucked up ok?

Anyways I went to a concert last Saturday and it was freezing. Then I went to the zoo on Sunday with a friend and it was also cold and swarming with kids who don’t know how to cover their mouths when they cough. It was a great weekend but by Tuesday I was sick - great. I had some warning bc my friend I went to the zoo with said they got sick yesterday. But it just seemed like a minor cold and I’ve been through this a million times, I truly did not think it was gonna get too much worse. My asthma was mostly under control and I rested a lot all week.

Thursday I’m more tired, but I start nebulizer treatments and even skip ice skating class and reschedule it for Saturday bc hey, I’m responsible. But Friday I start to feel worse. Like to the point where everybody at work is like wtf go home and one of them told me she’s gonna get me holy water. But it’s okay, it’s still been SO much worse and I’m really fine.

Saturday morning I wake up and I feel like I’m cured. So I go to ice skating class. And maybe I take a little walk in the rain. Bad fuckin idea. By the end of the day I’m having full blown asthma attacks one after the other and sweating like crazy. My abdomen is aching from coughing so much that it hurts to sit up. But I really don’t want to go to the ER. Not again. So I message my pulmonologist and hope I can just say never mind I’m good now by the time he answers on Monday.

That brings us to today, Sunday. I woke up at 6am after only 4 hours of sleep because I can’t stop choking. I’m sneezing and coughing up fluorescent green stuff, my throat tastes like blood and I have a fever. I really, really didn’t want to go to the doctor but it’s time. I drag my sorry ass to urgent care where the entire hour I sit in waiting, everybody who walks by gives me a ‘goddamn’ look because I’m coughing loud enough to alert the entire damn office. I’m so embarrassed bc what if they think I’m being dramatic and wasting time - again? I awkwardly explain my situation and the doctor sends me for CXR. When it comes back he says “Well, you don’t have pneumonia yet but see alllll this stuff here? That’s inflammation. I’m gonna prescribe antibiotics and (way heavier) steroids and you might have bronchitis already but your asthma is so bad that it’s indistinguishable by now. Also with your lungs you probably won’t be able to tell you have pneumonia until it’s pretty bad.”

So anyways, that’s my week. At least I got a lot of writing done for Whumptober - didn’t have to dig very deep to find enough misery to go around to all my fav OCs lol.

[cbk1000]

So, I'm going to do a long post on my health issues because I haven't really gone into much detail, and there’s a Lot, and maybe this will help someone else. Under a cut, not for anything graphic, but just because this is long as fuck.

I'll note first that for at least a year, maybe longer, I've been having really bad fatigue and brain fog, like struggling to concentrate and not fall asleep at my desk in the middle of the afternoon kind of fatigue. I have to drink a cup of coffee or two before I write just so I can have enough caffeine to get me through a couple of hours of wording. I blamed it on my poor sleep, which for about the same amount of time has been really bad: trouble falling asleep no matter how exhausted I am, waking up multiple times a night, and always waking up feeling extremely tired. Turns out these are all common signs of iron deficiency, which I didn't realise at the time.

Back in February one night after working out I suddenly had a weird sensation in my throat. It felt mildly swollen, and my tongue felt kind of tingly/numb. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before and I assumed it was a mild allergic reaction, though I was confused because I hadn't eaten anything new and I couldn't think of any new environmental exposures that would have done it. I take a Benadryl; no change.

It's after normal office hours, so I decide to have Mr Jenn take me to an urgent care clinic to give me something for the inflammation in case it gets worse.

Doc asks me the usual questions about what I ate, feels my throat for swelling, looks in my mouth, etc. Throat is maybe a tiny bit red, but looks pretty normal. He says just to cover all the bases and because it's going around, he's going to test me for strep.

Strep culture comes back positive. I am genuinely shocked because I have had strep before, it was the worst sore throat of my life, and I felt super sick. I feel fine, aside from the weird feeling in my throat, and it doesn't actually hurt, it's just an uncomfortable sensation. Doc says I probably just caught it early.

I start antibiotics, some prednisone for the inflammation, and also my period. (Which I didn't think was relevant at the time, but looking back I believe it was.)

I feel fine; just a teeny bit run down, but I'm on my period and I have strep.

A few days after starting my period, I start feeling a little worse. Not terrible, just generally Not Well. I ask Mr Jenn if he'll do the grocery shopping (we usually go together) because I just don't feel up to it.

It's a long holiday weekend thankfully, so I have more time to get back on my feet before returning to work. I spend the weekend chilling on the couch with Mr Jenn watching movies. I don't feel absolutely wrecked, but I don't feel well enough to do much more than lie on the couch watching movies.

Tuesday I go back to work. I feel pretty crappy: shaky, weak, just generally shitty. I try to push through but only manage a couple of hours of work and then clock out and take a sick day. I'm concerned because I'm 7 days into a 10 day antibiotic course at this point, and I should be almost back to normal, not feeling way worse than when I started. I decide to lie down and see if I feel any better.

I start feeling AWFUL. So poorly I call Mr Jenn at work and ask if he'll come take me back to urgent care (I don't have a primary care doctor at this point) because this is completely abnormal and I should probably make sure this isn't some complication of strep.

Go back to urgent care, doc feels my throat and looks in my mouth; throat looks fine and he's not seeing any indication the strep is worse. He tells me to stop the Prednisone; some people can have a gnarly reaction to it even during a short course. He also advises me to get my thyroid checked out when I'm able to get established with primary care, because that could potentially be causing some issues.

I go home and spend the day on the couch feeling violently nauseated and ill.

I work a couple of hours a day the next few days, but can't manage much more than that. I'm not feeling nauseated anymore, but I'm very weak and shaky and can't even sit up for long because I feel so crappy.

Friday I'm feeling a little better; but then Saturday I notice I'm having some heart palpitations. It's not super bad, but it's never happened before and I'm very fit with no history of heart issues so I was a bit concerned, but just kept an eye on it.

Sunday I'm having bad tachycardia. My heart is racing when I'm just standing at the sink trying to wash my face. I'm feeling incredibly weak and overall terrible. One of the urgent cares in town has an EKG machine and will do cardiac assessments, so I decide to go there because I'm trying to avoid the hospital if possible.

Urgent care turns me away because the doctor on duty that day isn't comfortable handling cardiac issues, so I have to go to the hospital to get checked out.

I'm so weak I have to hold myself up on the front desk when checking in. I am too weak to stand without holding onto it for support and genuinely feel like I'm dying. I honestly cannot remember the last time I felt that horrible.

Hospital runs a bunch of labs, and does several imaging tests to check for a heart attack and pulmonary embolism. After a couple of bags of IV fluids my heart rate drops to normal and I don't feel back to normal, but I do feel far stronger. Doc says he can't find anything, but that doesn't mean there isn't something to find, so come back if I develop different symptoms or it gets worse.

I lay around on the couch Sunday and Monday.

Tuesday morning I wake up at like 2:00 shaking and feeling horribly weak. I decide to drink some Gatorade and eat some Saltines and see if that helps.

It doesn't. I've gone out to the couch to eat and drink so I don't disturb Mr Jenn, who is still asleep in the bedroom. Seamus is keeping me company, though, so there's that. I go back and forth about what to do. I feel genuinely awful.

I get dressed and wake poor Mr Jenn up at 4:00 and ask him to drive me back to the hospital. My heart is pounding again and I feel like I'm about to keel over.

Hospital doesn't want to redo the imaging tests because it's unlikely anything has changed there after a couple of days (and I had a normal EKG), but they run some more labs including a mono test and give me some more fluids. Doc is stumped. Says maybe it's some kind of virus doing this. (I have been tested for Covid, mono, and a couple of flu strains and all tests have come back negative.) I am discharged.

I update my boss because I took another sick day Monday and let her know I won't be able to work Tuesday either. I am absolutely exhausted when I get home and pass out for three hours, wake up, and feel like I could sleep a million more.

My boss is a former ER nurse and is super concerned about my heart rate and that I feel poorly enough to keep calling out sick, because that’s not like me.

Over the next couple of days she has me check in with her every couple of hours. She has me noting down my symptoms in detail and also making sure I'm eating every hour even though my appetite is poor and drinking plenty of water as well as electrolytes. That way if I have to go back to the hospital I can show that none of these issues are caused by dehydration or blood sugar issues from not eating.

Electrolytes help my heart rate a bit; some days it's almost back to normal. I don't feel as bad as when I first went to the hospital, but I'm still very weak and poorly and it's a struggle to keep my heart rate down.

I start getting terrible chills every day. Like, cold-to-the-bone, can't warm up even under a pile of blankets or in a hot bath. I never run a fever, but the chills are every day and last several hours usually. I always sleep with the fan on even in winter but can't run it now because I'm so cold all the time.

My heart rate goes back to 140+ bpm standing at my sink washing my face. I'm also having shortness of breath and chest pain at this point. I update my boss, and she says she thinks it's time to go back in. She offers to meet me at the hospital to help me advocate for some tests that might find something (she wants them to do an echocardiogram, which is an ultrasound of the heart, and blood cultures).

Hospital runs some more labs, and does an echo. Doctor says structurally my heart looks good, but he's seeing what might be an indication of pericarditis (inflammation of the sac around the heart). It causes a brightness in that area, and while that can sometimes be caused by flashback on the monitor, he says that coupled with some of my symptoms makes him comfortable giving a presumptive diagnosis of pericarditis. Standard treatment is a week of high dose ibuprofen for the inflammation, and I'll also be put on acid blockers to protect my stomach.

[britcision]

Family death mentions ahead friends

So one of the things I learned in the arrangements for my grandmother’s funeral is that their local priest remembers me

Pretty sure I only ever met him once; he moved in long after we’d left the country, and when I went back for visits church was not a part of them

He was the one who did my grandfather’s funeral

That was an interesting time, and the first time I noticed I am actually dogshit at handling things emotionally; emotionally, I’m usually fine. Sad, tired, got a key on depression, but never what you’d call the depths

No, all of those things get autorepressed before I know they’re there, so my disabled ass processes everything physically

0/10, do not recommend this. I don’t even know what’s stressing me out half the time, I have a crazy flare and have to reverse engineer what’s wrong around that

So I was, y’know, even less disposed to socialising than you might think around Grandpa’s funeral

Didn’t go to the wake, didn’t really talk to anyone. I wrote something for him and I read it in the service, and then we went to see the hole and pour his ashes in

My grandparents lived around the corner from that church before I was born; their direct garden neighbour is the graveyard, and they used to get to church through a pair of abutting doors that led from their garden to the priest’s garden, and then immediately into the graveyard

So when I told the family to go on without me, I’d head home, well, there was no real hesitation

(I do know the legal way around, the new priest wasn’t keen on strangers coming through the garden but I suspect Granny converted him before the end

But I am the grandchild Most Likely To Just Go Hop The Graveyard Fence)

And I sat there for a while, mostly just existing

And the priest came over to see to things, because everyone else had left and he saw them go, and he didn’t think I’d be there

He offered to come back later, but it was fine. It needed to be done, and I wasn’t doing anything that would be affected by it

He warned me a couple of times that it could be hard for people, and he really could just come back, but it was fine

I helped him step down my grandfather’s ashes for when the next person would be interred

(It’s a very old graveyard and while not 100% full as far as I know, they did have a special paved garden where you could pick which stone to have your ashes under along with anyone else in the parish

Very communal, you get all mixed in. As you may suspect, this is not a church holding stock in bodily resurrections)

And we talked a bit about the garden and how that all worked, and I helped fill in the hole and stole a stone

And that was the first and last time I met him

He asked if I’d be okay to go home on my own, and I did not tell him I could just hop the fence. I went around in the street like a good adult and everything

And that was the only time I ever met him

But when they were arranging my Granny’s funeral last month, apparently he mentioned he remembered me

I couldn’t be there this time, being both devoid of an immune system which makes air travel and the UK specifically dangerous as hell, and also sick with some stupid little cold of my own that has lasted a month and will not leave or let me sleep

(Not COVID, I checked, and a round of antibiotics ALMOST kicked it on its head… and then two days ago nope we’re back to up every couple hours because I can’t breathe)

I wrote something for my mother to read, but it just… never occurred to me that he would remember me

The old priest there knew me since before I could walk (I suspect he has passed), and was party to both good and bad childhood stories

This new guy was younger than my parents, we met once and I don’t think we’ll ever meet again, but I have been repeatedly told that I make an impression, even when I’m not trying to

I guess some people are not up for a peaceful chat about death rights while burying their loved ones, but I just…

I’m not sentimental about what is left behind

The important part is what has left, and the body itself needs to be dealt with

He was my grandfather, and it made sense to me to help put him to rest

To do the last thing I ever could with his earthly remains and make sure he was interred with love

It’s apparently not something I should ask anyone to do for me when I’m done, but I don’t mind that. I won’t be there, and I’m not really worried about what happens to the meat that occasionally consented to do what I wanted it to

It is possible that growing up playing chase in a graveyard and nicking shiny stones off the graves gives you a somewhat skewed view of death, but I’d have to talk to my older siblings more to be sure

(I don’t know if the priest even knows I have an older sister. She might have visited their area on her honeymoon, but all the relatives she stayed with only had horror stories to share with me later

She didn’t come for our grandfather’s funeral when my brothers and I did

She doesn’t care about anything but her husband and now her kid, but in a very… obvious way

She barely spoke to any of them

She flew out to see our Granny before she passed with her baby for a day or so, which personally I agree is a better call than going to the funeral, but I dunno if she would have seen him - she could be flying completely under the radar)

I guess I’ve just been thinking about the imprint we leave behind when we’re gone

As a family we tend towards being loud, obvious, and usually weird (on one side - the other tends towards loud, gregarious, and aggressively organising events)

I met that guy once, for probably no more than twenty minutes after the hour long service

He’ll probably never have cause to think about me again in his life, unless he tells that story

But I’ll always know him as the priest who moved in and asked the nice little old lady behind not to cut through his yard, entirely unknowing that she would in fact be organising every church do for the next two decades and would be a stranger for about another week tops

And apparently he remembers me staying behind, chatting about death and interment while we poured the dirt back into the hole and squashed it down until the stone could fit snugly again

We did discuss how many people it would take for it not to go down properly, but they do have a plan in place - that’s why they rotate the stones, so they have about the same volume of people under them

I don’t know if my grandmother was cremated

If she was, it was three days before Bonfire Night, and they just barely missed the very funniest funeral possible, but I don’t think the family will be ready for that observation for a few more years at least

If she was, I don’t know if they’ll put her under the same stone

I think I asked if you could make requests, but it’s been a long time; I don’t remember the answer

There will be a couple extra tenants in there with them, if they do, which would make her very happy. She was a compulsive host all her life

You also don’t exactly get only your own loved one’s ashes back from the crematorium

I think you can make a special request and pay extra, but it is much less energy efficient to cool and clean the oven between each body

You just sort of get the sweepings at the end of the day, portioned out between everyone

You can also have your ashes specially compressed and turned into a diamond at a different company or all sorts of other things, but you need a lot of ash to make a very small diamond because the key word there is “compression”, along with “heat”, “pressure”, and “extreme”

It may be worth storing more than one person’s worth of ash to make something more notable

There would be something poetic in having your ashes mixed with your partner’s into a single stone for the rest of eternity

I do sort of want mine to be tossed off a tall building in a wind storm though, so that’s for the rest of y’all

Organise the polycule and go for a statement piece

But do put one of those anti moisture bags in with the ashes while you’re waiting for everyone else to go, because the brick would probably be harder to ship by weight

It is entirely possible that I’m just weird about death all on my own, honestly

But if the worst thing some people can imagine is there being just… nothing at all, you just stop existing, that sounds pretty good to me

Like my Granny, I am also a compulsive entertainer - I’m pathologically bad at just sitting and hanging out at peoples’ houses. We have to be going somewhere, doing something, have some form of outside stimuli

Even just “you’re with everyone you love having a wonderful time forever and ever” sounds exhausting

Living is hard, people are hard, and I have ADHD so I guarantee I will find a way to get sick of eternity even with all the wonders of the universe to explore

All I want is peace and the chance to just stop

Failing that, I nominate we all build the tumblr island as whatever lies beyond and develop post-vital memes that will take decades to bring the newly dead up to speed on

[artmann100]

Fundraiser Update (November 13, 2024)

Fundraiser Update (November 13, 2024)

I have WONDERFUL news… I go home on November 18th! I am beyond excited and hope to stay there this time for good! We have now been dealing with everything with my health for 23 months now. Brad has been so strong during this period time and has kept me going on days that I just thought I could not keep going. On those days I could tell he barely had enough to keep himself going, but he gave all he could to me! I want to thank everyone that has given to the fundraiser and that has sent us positive thoughts, vibes, and prayers. You will never know how much they mean to us.

We were able to get the carpet cleaned in the Family room along with me chair. So we are hoping that helps to keep me from getting sick again. I just got off of a 14-day regiment of antibiotics so going home right after that is going to help immensely. Or so we hope!

On Friday (11/8) I graduated from Physical and Occupational Therapy. They said I had hit all my goals and there was no further for me to go… I was really happy to hear that. I have been doing all of my exercises and walking as much as I can handle here in my room… I still get tired out really easily but I am also working on that.

We will be having home health care come in. I will be having PT and OT and nursing at least once a week. This time we are hoping to get a different wound nurse since the one we had was not the most observant with the wounds. She let them get really bad and kept telling us that what we were questioning about them was just fine. When I got back in here to the nursing home and they took cultures I had things in the wounds that should not have been in there. So like I said we are hoping to have a new nurse.

With me going home we will still have to be buying our own supplies…not as many as if we did not have home health coming in, but they never order enough. Or what they do order is wrong, that I am either allergic to or that tears my skin and causes more wounds.

You get the idea. We still feel like the walls are closing in, with no relief in sight untilI am able to get back to work on a regular basis. Even then it is (of course) a matter of waiting until the next pay cycle… with all the other normal bills still needing to be paid (again, of course).

So what would anything you donate to us go for? Right now, rent is our absolute highest priority, then medical supplies, then bills, and finally groceries (Brad can only eat so many Ramen noodles!)

As I have mentioned before, if you are not comfortable simply donating money, please feel free to check out Brad’s Etsy shop, where he is selling original artwork from his time in the gaming industry.

Regardless, we both thank you in advance for your generosity. It continues to be my sincere hope that the next update will be that everything is taken care of and that I am finally done with all this situation. I hate putting Brad through this and can never thank him enough for staying by my side. Our best friend Andy, who we consider a brother, has been a godsend during these almost 2 years. He brings Brad over to see me every week and has been our lifeline for Brad. We will never be able to thank him enough.

But please know, any help you can give us will always be appreciated.

Thank you in advance, Jess and Brad.

[qtti]

Here is an uninteresting complaining post

So I got s UTI and I noticed it a week ago. I called the emergency like to get antibiotics and I managed to get them the next day. I took the antibiotics, which was a three day cure... I felt a bit better, but not completely so after taking the cure. I imagined it would continue to work its magic after the pill-taking period...

Only to find out that I came back WAY FUCKING WORSE. I called the emergency like again, like help me wtf this wasn't enough??? And I was sent to give an urinal sample. I've not slept more than six hours each night, I wake up to be in agony and fuckload of pain in my bladder each morning, this morning being now exception... each time I do my business in the bathroom now I can't help but silently scream in agony... I fucking hate this. It worst there and awful, just exciting as well.

Anyways, since giving the sample, they managed to figure out pretty fast that yes indeed, I have a UTI (duh) and that it was caused by E.Coli. however, I've had to wait an extra entire two day with these fucking awful symptoms for them to figure out what antibiotics would work best. I've taken a stupid amount of painkillers (both paracetamol and ibuprofen) to manage and drunk a fuckload of cranberry juice but the symptoms are like a wave, getting better at times, only to find myself almost crying because I'm hurting to much.

I was told their lobarotorium tests would be done today so they can write me the right antibiotics, and I am like so sick and tired... I've had this fucking infection for over A WEEK now. That's a stupid long amount of time compared to the fact that I've been contacting the health care people right away when I've experienced worse symptoms. Anyways... its almost 6am and the call line for health care stuff opens up at 7:30 ... and then, I hope and so help me god, they finally have their tests ready, because I can't fucking handle this pain anymore. I'm gonna end myself if this keeps on going, I wanna be healthy again!! Aaaaa!! AAAAAAA!!! I WANNA STOP THIS PAIN?!?!? I CANT TAKE THIS ANYMORE IT KEEPS GETTING WORSE!!! But no, I don't have a fever of back pain, so we good like that....... but I'm scared it is getting there... I really need those meds fr...

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, MARCH 24, 1991 God, I wish moving day would hurry the fuck up and arrive. 8 more days!

I spoke to Andy last night. He’s really happy. He says it’s beautiful and that there are so many stores, and everything’s cheaper, including a movie theater with current movies that only cost a buck. He also says that even though Phoenix is a huge city, it’s spaced out so you don’t feel claustrophobic. He says maybe I’ll be out there sooner than I think, and says he misses me. I miss him, and Donna sounds really nice. I had spoken to her here before Andy left. Her mother Diane sounds nice, too. He says there are tons of singing contests and that no doubt talent agents go there and there are 22 gay bars. Can you imagine 22 gay bars?

I’m so psyched to move, but wanting to be what I want to be means I’m gonna need to get out of the area in a few years. I don’t want to ever have to say goodbye to Kim, either. Or Steve. Steve sounds really eager to check out Deerfield for himself too, after I told him all about it.

Kim’s so in love with me. I mean really. She told me how she had another wet dream about me, but she really is sincere and true straight from the heart. Even though I’m not sexually attracted to her she’s so right as a person. That’s the way it always works. Sexual attraction may be forbidden, but no more settling! I’ve done that for 25 years. If not getting someone who I’m attracted to inside and out means being alone, I’ll be alone. Plus, why get what I want for just 2 or 3 weeks?

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 20, 1991 I feel shitty, so I’m not going to write much. I couldn’t fall asleep till almost noon yesterday and I had to get up at 6:00 and then an hour later I went grocery shopping. I have felt very groggy all day. Or night, I should say.

Kim called about a vacancy next door to her. She’s going to talk to the owner, but it’ll no doubt be too expensive.

I’m dead tired so I’m going to bed now.

TUESDAY, MARCH 19, 1991 Now I’m even more pissed than I was last night as these antibiotics are like speed. I’ve only slept 2 hours in 30 hours. I just spoke to Kim about it and I think Andy tried to call me this morning. I know he called Brenda but when he called me, I never got to the phone in time. It turned out that Kim wouldn’t have been able to come down last Saturday anyway. I pray I don’t sleep too late tomorrow. I need food, then Wed. I see Martha.

Kim is such a super person. I’m so grateful for her helping me take care of this infection, getting me out of Crack Alley and much more. I told Kim about my ear surgery on building my outer ear and about going to Mass Eye & Ear Infirmary 3 years ago. I told her how the chief of ear surgery took CAT scans which they didn’t have when I was little, and determined that if he opens the closed-up opening, I should hear. I also told her the operation never got done as no one wanted to bother taking me and I didn’t want to disrupt their lives. There’d be a few visits besides the operation itself and several follow-ups. I explained I was too chicken to go alone and didn’t have the money for all these bus tickets back and forth from Boston. Also, the hospital people would never let me go home by bus after having major head surgery. Lastly, I told her with mom being 1400 miles away and Tammy with 3 kids, a husband and a business, there was no help there, either.

She was just as thrilled at the thought as I was even though I tried to block it all out of my mind. I tried telling myself I was born partially deaf, stay that way, it’s nothing new. Her eyes watered as well as mine and she half begged, half demanded she take me through this operation maybe this summer. She said it would thrill her and make her just as happy.

Also, she said I’m stuck with her no matter what. That’s ok with me as she’s one in billions of decent people I can ever get. I told her 3 or 4 years ago, she’d have run like hell and she said, “You never know. You may have been surprised.”

MONDAY, MARCH 18, 1991 Boy, am I pissed at myself and frustrated in general. I just can’t kick my schedule back on days. Bill’s coming tomorrow and I need to go do some food shopping. Also, I want to see Jessie before I leave to get my bathing suits back and see if she wants Toffee. I’m sick of taking care of him. Besides that, I have not seen Jessie or her son in ages.

Both Kim and Andy probably aren’t too happy as I was sleeping when they were due to call.

Yesterday I woke up after 4 hours with an attack. It’s always 4 hours after going to sleep. I woke up mega congested and was so bloated that I could say I was 4 months pregnant and be believed. So, Kim called on her break and came and brought me to the ER.

The doctor I liked took care of me in Fast-Track as the main ER room was swamped. Even though she’s married, me, Kim and several others who work there feel she’s bi. She drops enough hints anyway with the way she was looking at me and asking me all kinds of questions about my being gay with utter interest and fascination. She even told me she liked my underwear. Thought they were quite cute.

My problem turned out to be not a yeast infection but rather a urinary tract infection and I let it go too long. That’s why the congestion never got any better. When you have two different infections and you take medicine that kills only one of them, the other one worsens while the first infection comes back. She gave me Seldane to take along with my Theodur and an antibiotic called Bactrim and crotch cream to ease the irritation.

I received a check from fuel assistance for $488.

I really want to get a new stereo, but first I’ve got to start getting boxes.

Kim came over after Friendly’s, after the ER and took back with her some packed boxes. She was supposed to bring them back over and get more stuff when I fucking overslept.

SUNDAY, MARCH 17, 1991 Well, Andy’s now in New Mexico and will be arriving in Phoenix tomorrow. I haven’t spoken with him since he left on March 12th except for last night. He either calls collect or I call him since it’s Kevin’s problem. I don’t know if I remembered to write about that or not but when Andy was here, he got the phone put in that name and he gave a phony social security number.

When I move the phone will be under Maria S and it’ll be listed. My monthly charge will be $16 and whatever cents. I will not have call-waiting as that has become a major annoyance. Especially if I’m talking long distance or having a serious talk and don’t care to be interrupted. Call-forwarding I don’t need as Kim and I plan to keep our front doors open, therefore, I’ll hear my phone if it rings. I can live without 3-way calling for a while. In Deerfield, they only have pulse dialing anyway.

When I went to call the phone company here in Springfield, they insisted on speaking only to dear old Kevin himself. So I called Hank, my old neighbor from Oswego St., to be Kevin and he did.

I have arranged for Nervous to collect my final bill and either ditch it or keep it. Of course, he’ll keep it. Of course, he’ll probably open it and read it, but that’s fine with me.

Nervous hasn’t gotten his butt up here yet as he’s been working almost 70 hours a week. He says he will as soon as he finds the time. Also, he sounds impressed by Deerfield and my new apartment. I wish Feinstein’s and the Bucket of Cruds would fire him till April 1st.

I have had some very pleasant talks with Mary who still feels bad about what she did. She should, too. I told her that after what happened I was tempted to go to her workplace and make mincemeat out of her there, but didn’t want to get jumped by lots of people who worked there or were customers. I also didn’t want to get arrested either. She said, “I don’t blame you.”

SATURDAY, MARCH 16, 1991 Since I haven’t written in a while, I shall update the last two subjects I wrote about. First of all, I guess there isn’t an arrest warrant out for me. It’s really weird, though, as I came home one afternoon and found a subpoena shoved under my door. It said I must go to court on March 21st. That’s crazy as I never knew they gave you second chances. I’m not sure yet what I’ll do about it, but I sure as hell ain’t worried. Nor do I really give a damn as again, Jenny got what she deserved.

As far as Brenda goes, I did not speak to her for a few days after she snapped me out, but after that, we had some decent talks. She said it’s the coke that’s screwing her up and ruining her life. I admire the fact, once again, that she can admit she’s got a problem but I don’t want to be involved with her cuz of it. Also, the fact that I’m not attracted to her and that she’s not my type still stands. I guess I can now understand some of those that dumped me all the while saying I wasn’t a bad person. I’m not a bad person, just not their type. I just want to be alone more than ever for 10,000 reasons. There’s nothing wrong with being alone, though. Me, myself, and I make a great team.

So, my other news is that Andy left on March 12th. I feel he took a great piece of me with him. I feel alone. I miss him. However, I’m happy for him at the same time. Also, I’ve had a lot of problems with him so I’ll enjoy the break from that.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 6, 1991 Well, now there’s a warrant out for my arrest (I think). I wonder if sweet little Jenny will call me about it. Oh well. When I’m ready to take care of it I will.

I am now at CC waiting for Martha. I took the bus here as I am in no mood to associate with Brenda. She’s doing everything I used to do which I haven’t done for many months. She pushes me away and she takes her anger out on me and it all always comes down to sex. She said she wanted to make love to me one more time before I move. I told her I didn’t feel it would be a good idea cuz of how she always says she’s all or nothing. She says she can’t have sex every now and then. She says it’s for memories and that she’s not asking for sex once a week. I told her again, as a reminder, I broke it off with her cuz I felt I wasn’t what she wanted and that we didn’t have enough in common. I also told her I felt it was the right thing to do. It’s happened to me so much and it happens to everyone else all the time, too. This is the 90s. So, last night she was grouchy and she snapped at me.

My hatred towards people only continues to grow and grow. I’m sick of people!

MONDAY, MARCH 4, 1991 I got that apartment!! It’s gorgeous, but it is a little different than Kim’s. I like it better.

Kim and I spoke with Mom and at first, she refused to listen, then Kim melted her right down to the ground. I knew she would. Mom was impressed with the area, which she’s familiar with, everything the apartment has to offer, the price, and Kim and Mark. She kept telling Kim she was a guardian angel. That is true in a way.

I’m moving on April 1st and I’ve sent Russ a written notice. Brenda and Jimmy are also moving on the 1st. Jimmy bought a house here in Forest Park and Brenda’s moving to Palmer. Bonny moved this March 1st.

The night I saw the apartment, Kim and I went roller skating at Interskate 91. I had a blast. I hope to get new skates, though, cuz mine suck. They’re outdoor skates anyway.

Kim came over today and brought back with her some odds and ends. Big bulky stuff that’ll take up valuable box space.

I forgot to mention I had a really good talk with both Nervous and Mary D.

Also, I was right all along about Kim. Kim is very happy with Mark. He’s a great guy but Kim feels he’s too quiet and not exciting in bed. I guess, even though Mark is 28, he’s only been with one other girl before Kim. Kim also told me that she had a wet dream about me and that she’s fantasized about both males and females. Whether Kim is married or not, she’s definitely my type pretty much, but why are they always ugly? I mean Kim’s not ugly, but she’s plain. Even Brenda’s better looking. It goes to prove more and more that God forbids sexual attraction for me personally for some reason.

[kittyintheocean]

chronically ill and guilty

“what did i do to deserve this?!”

is the question i yell out into my bedroom,

directed at no one in particular,

my ears throbbing in pain,

it is late october,

i am eighteen years old,

i have one of the worst ear infections she’s ever seen,

my mom,

a veteran of nursing,

a twenty year service,

had told me,

i am no longer a child,

but i feel the guilt and shame,

the same way i did at eight years old,

at the forced confession

i do not understand what i have done wrong,

sitting at my kitchen table,

my small hands clutching a pen,

staring at the lined paper,

i put my entire life up to this point under a microscope,

anything goes!

no matter how small!

in all i was only able to think of five things

the following sunday it takes me all of five minutes to confess,

the priest asks me,

“is that all?”,

sensing that he doesn’t believe me,

i stretch the truth for a couple more,

in trying to clean the dirt off myself,

i’ve gotten blood on my white dress,

my penance is two “our fathers” and a “hail mary”,

despite digging every sin out of its grave and slinging the flayed corpses at the priest,

it is still not enough for my grandmother,

i feel her glaring bullets into me as i come out of the prayer booth,

i feel bile in the back of my throat,

blood pooling in my mouth,

i don’t know what i’ve done wrong!

i’ll fix it i swear!

please please PLEASE!

just tell me what i did wrong!

after this i would grow to have an obsession with cleanliness and illness,

every illness proof of wrong doing,

the pain the least i deserve,

dirt and blood i try desperately to wash from my person,

i began puberty when i was nine years old,

always telling me to “sit properly”,

i feel my grandmother telling me more frequently now,

with an almost vicious enthusiasm,

her stares of disgust every time i fail to sit with my knees together,

occasion doesn’t matter,

it seems to be her favorite thing to say,

it even has a little hand gesture,

a back and forth sweeping motion over her knees,

so she can express her disgust,

even when she can’t talk

i am fourteen at my great-grandma’s funeral,

it has been a long weekend,

and i had busied myself the week prior perfecting “amazing grace” on violin,

i sit over on a chair by the piano where my dad sits,

i am tired,

as i stare at her sparkly blue casket thinking of how much she loved me my brother and my parents,

my eyes sweep over the room where someone is giving a eulogy,

i make the mistake of looking at my grandmother,

she makes the gesture,

her eyes and face holding an expression of cruel glee,

i don’t remember if i adjusted my knees,

but i remember the same bile at the back of my throat,

the same nausea,

the same blood in my mouth,

she has poured blood on me and has tried to convince me that i was the one who spilled it in the first place,

i am not sure what to believe at this stage

my mom sits on my bed,

she carefully threads medical paper into my ears so the antibiotics can work,

as the entrance to my ear canal is swollen shut,

my ear canals so swollen you can see it from behind the shell of my ears,

i’m exhausted and can hardly stay awake,

yet i feel immense guilt every second i am on this day,

my grandmother has decided on an impromptu visit,

despite not asking us if the timing worked for us,

my mom is exhausted after cleaning the house,

too tired to move,

i feel horrible that i couldn’t help,

she tells me not to worry,

i’m sick and should be resting,

i recognize that her words are nothing but true,

unfortunately this does little to quell the guilt that gnaws at my throat and insides

ever since my great grandma’s funeral i’ve done my best to avoid my grandmother,

not like she has repaid the favor,

oh no,

in fact she seems to attempt to force her presence and hateful ideals on me even more,

i express that i am sick and do not want to see her,

she barges into my doorway anyways,

disregarding me as usual,

clearly expecting a warm welcome,

she is aggravated that i do not wake up from my sleep happy to see her,

and i’m happy to say,

i feel guiltless about how i reacted