#when my mom worked at a college she sent me pics of all the nurse training dummies lol

[pancakeke]

fake medical training asses are always funny to me and then I see the price and they become even funnier. nearly two thousand dollar big fake ass.

[exitiumparit]

So since I accidentally freaked some of y’all out last night, here’s an explanation of my day yesterday.

tl;dr: I fainted (for normal and not alarming reasons) and hit the back of my head and went to the ER last night to get the laceration closed. I’m not concussed and totally 100% okay. I’ll be around but I’m limiting screen time since my head is a little woozy. 

For those of you who want the full story, keep reading, because I know some are confused lol:

So Haley has had a weird history with pain tolerance. I had seizures as a baby from my reaction to pain, but I also would have triple stage ear infections I was barely reacting to, plus I have tattoos on my rib cage. Ya girl does not make sense.

So I was minding my own business after work yesterday to do some laundry. I’d worked a long shift at my job and I’d already done some adulting, but I wanted a gold star of productivity for the day and decided to wash some towels since my fiancee and I had no clean towels. My apartment complex has a coin-operated laundry room with those fancy quarter metal slots that stick out from it. Well, while holding the basket, I accidentally jam my finger against the side of one of those metal quarter things.

Fucking ow.

I get one load of towels in and my finger is still hurting. I try and bend it, ow. My brilliant, genius level IQ mind decides ‘hey, Haley, try and pop it’

Aaaaand I’m on the ground.

So since (1) I’ve always had a really reactive pain tolerance and (2) there are tons of nerves in your hand, the pain just sent me on the ground.

The thing is, I had to choose the row of washers with a goddamn counter behind me.

I haven’t noticed yet that I’m bleeding, but I slowly get up after I realize, oh shit, I fucking fainted. I get the other load of laundry in, because, priorities, I guess??? I leave the laundry room and am walking back to my apartment when I touch the back of my head, and oh yay blood.

I’m home alone, and shout out to the absolute freaked out call I gave my mom.

She gets me sat down with a towel and a ice pack and I’m in a decent amount of pain but we’ve figured out that I’m not bleeding all that much, which is weird, because head wounds bleed like a motherfucker. 

So I’m officially at this point thinking I don’t need stitches but I might be concussed, which is freaking me out, because I’m home alone, what if??? I fall asleep??? The fuck????

My mom refuses to come up to me (in her defense she’s 40 minutes away and it was during rush hour and she was literally walking out the door but I’m bitter) but there’s a family friend that’s like 10 minutes away from me, she gets me some fresh ice and pins my hair out of the cut and I get a great picture of the wound. (Available upon request if you like gore pictures)

Now we’re thinking I might actually need stitches, but like??? It’s clotting??? WHy would I??

This is when I post the first OOC post of me being bored and wanting to send people memes. We’re fairly certain at this point I’m not concussed because I’m not nauseous, nothing is blurry, I’m responsive, I have no double vision, etc. 

Well my mom texts a picture of it to a friend of hers that’s a nurse and she’s like yeah hydrogen peroxide is not going to cut it.

That girl needs some stitches.

However, I’m 23 and only with a part time job. I have a decent savings because I was privileged with a low rent and no bills during college, but the ER sounds terrifying financially, but it’s decided we can’t risk an infection on my goddamn head, and when my fiancee gets home from work just before 11, he gets changed and we’re off to the ER after I triple check the hospital near us is in-network with my medical insurance.

#MedicareForAll

We get to the ER

Nurse at the desk: What’s up with you?

Me: I have a hole in my head and I’d like it closed

Nurse, blinking: Well alright

An hour later, I get to see the most sunshiney doctor in the world who numbs me and tells me he’ll get my head stapled. Literally no one has expressed any concern that I’m concussed, either, which was comforting.

Fun fact: a medical staple gun is like only slightly smaller than a staple gun you like, use on a wall or in crafting.

Thanks to some local anesthetic, I felt none of those two staples (if you’re into injury pics I also have one of the staples) going into my head. My fiancee and I head out after I hand off my insurance information, and then we roll around to the Taco Bell drive thru because I’m starving.

I go to sleep with a towel underneath my head to catch any extra blood smear in my hair and on a ice pack and woke up the next day....really feeling okay.

So moving forward! I really do feel fine. I’m a little groggy, for sure. My head definitely feels swollen and I’m very like, physically conscious of exactly where the staples are, which is weird, but also kind of neat. The site of stapling itself is a little tender, but I feel really......mostly normal, tbh.

Because I’m a little woozy, I’m trying to limit my screen time, but I’m definitely, like, around! And totally okay and safe! Sorry for scaring anyone, I know someone worried I got worse, but nah, we’d just finally decided that it was just the smart thing to get stitches.

But! Yeah! I’m good, fiancee is good, cat is still great, I just have two more staples in my head for six more days or so. I might be slow to replying to some IMs/dis.cord/sky.pe because my eyes are tired. Still a dork.

Woo hoo!

edit: Oh yeah and my finger is fine. A little bruised, but just barely

[overlord-of-sarcasm]

I don’t know when I lost my faith. 

Could it have been when I was sixteen, and I was throwing up in a public bathroom because my ‘best friend’ had raped me, and my mother walked in, asked what was going on with me, why am I acting weird/etc, and I told her, and she told me to get over it?

Could it have been when, literally three months after that, a different ‘best friend’ tried to rape me, and I didn’t eat for two weeks, and my mother told me that I looked great and should keep doing whatever it was that I was doing? I wasn’t even at all chubby to begin with.

Could it have been when I was sixteen, and in my community college class, where I couldn’t get away from the guy who kept trying to take me home, and, no matter who I told, either no one believed the ‘stupid blonde girl’ or told me to be flattered?

Could it have been when I was sixteen, and at a water park with a friend, and seven guys surrounded me and tried to rip my top off?

Could it have been when I was seventeen, at the student life center in my community college, and three strangers + one friend of mine cornered me to try to force me to do a porn shot with them, and my friend tried to pretend nothing was happening?

Could it have been when I was seventeen, and, after a year of complaining about and dealing with the eczema on my hands that was so bad that I couldn’t bend my fingers anymore, my mother finally took me to the doctor to get treatment, and accused me of not telling her when the doc asked her why she waited so long to take me in?

Could it have been when I was seventeen, and I was in church class, asking questions that my teacher didn’t like, so he told me I was going to hell?

Could it have been when I was eighteen, and started having seizures, but I didn’t know it at the time (eyes rolling into the back of my head, sometimes some generalized shaking, and both during and after, 7/10 times my legs won’t cooperate and I can’t support myself), and the only people who even pretended to care were my coworkers, my Bio 112 classmates, and my philosophy professor?

Could it have been when I was eighteen and it got so bad that I collapsed/had a seizure in a haunted house (shut it down lol) and my mother, once I told her, just got mad at me for ‘allowing it to happen’? I have no control over this.

I know it wasn’t when I had a seizure/ episode in the middle of my philosophy classes, and my prof, who had an epileptic student in a previous semester, begged me (plus a few other students, so it wouldn’t be just me and him) to stay so I wasn’t driving right after the seizure.

But could it have been when I was eighteen and I was at work and I had a fit/episode/seizure that was so bad that I was out of commission for several minutes, and my manager had to force me to sit down, and I had already given up on telling my mother, cause I knew she didn’t give a damn and would probably just be mad?

Could it have been a few months ago, at nineteen, the first day moving into my new house (alone), with the roomies moving in two days later, when I came home from Walmart to find one of the old (male) tenants eating dinner there, and I panicked and went to a church thing, where I magically ran into one girl who I knew, and told her, and she found a friend of hers who was willing to have me over at her house for a few hours, then helped me to barricade the door so Jack couldn’t come back in that night? (seriously, what the fuck, Jack?)

Could it have been a few months ago, at nineteen, when I totaled my car after the first home college football game of the season (I know I shouldn’t drive with seizures, but I didn’t know that they were seizures at this point) and a truck full of boys saw me laying on my steering wheel trying to move, and, instead of trying to help, or even at least seeing if I was ok, did a Chinese Fire Drill around their car before driving off? (I will admit to laughing at this later, but still, not cool)

Could it have been the night of the accident, when I had to call a friend to tell him that I wouldn’t be able to drive to go help with the Hurricane Harvey clean up efforts in Houston the next day anymore, and it didn’t even occur to me to tell him why, because, at this point, I was so used to looking after myself that I didn’t even consider the fact that he was a paramedic, and could probably help me if I needed it?  I about cried in relief when he told me to park my car, which had overheated after not even a full mile, and wait for him to come pick me up.  Then, literally less than two minutes after he had gotten there, I had my first of several fainting spells, and he immediately recommended that I go to a doctor, but told me that I had the choice.

Could it have been the night after this, when I went to the store with my roommates, and a guy forgot his drivers liscence at the register, and I offered to run it out and see if I saw anyone who looked like him, and I went to the parking lot to search.  I looked absolutely horrible, I was stiff, and sore, and exhausted, and I just wanted to sleep, but I didn’t look like I belonged on the streets.  I saw a guy who looked like the guy in the ID pic getting into a truck, and when I tried to talk to him, he assumed I was homeless and told me that he didn’t have any money. (His face as I explained the situation was priceless, though)

Could it have been two weeks after the accident, when, after I had passed out no less than seven times, I finally went to an on-campus (super cheap) clinic, where they told me that this actually seemed super serious, and tried to load me up in an ambulance to take me to a hospital for tests, and I had to call my mother to ask for her permission/opinion, and she said that there was no reason that I should need to be seen, and essentially told the docs to screw themselves?

Could it be when I was picked up by my same paramedic friend (Matthew), and he told me that I really needed to go to a doc, and I wanted to, but I would need to use my parents insurance, and my mom already said no, that I didn’t need to go to a real doc, and he told me to call her so he could talk to her, and she said “You may be a paramedic, but I’m her mother, and have been her mother for 19 years. Exactly how long have you been a paramedic? My point exactly.  I’m also old, and so I know what I am talking about.” Then hung up, and he looked at me, and told me that I needed to see a doc, but understands that my mother disagrees, and gave me what was essentially a standing offer for a ride to the hospital if I needed it, and tried to help as much as possible, but couldn’t really do anything further?

Could it have been two weeks ago, when I was working (ushering at a football game) and I had an episode/fit, and couldn’t stand up, and my supervisor (great guy, I go to church with him and his kids) saw and made me sit down, and called the medics, and they took a few readings, then tried to get me to stand up, where I nearly fell on my face, making them get a wheelchair? They took me to the medic bay, where I had no less than 5 EMTs and 1 nurse telling me that these things that I’d been experiencing for the last 1.5+ years were seizures, and that I might have epilepsy, and they tried to put me into an ambulance (again), but I told them I couldn't afford it.  Their response was that, if it really was epilepsy, I really couldn’t afford not to.  So I tried to find someone to take me to the hospital, but no one answered, or they were busy. Finally, I called Matthew up again.  He picked me up, and wouldn’t let me call my mom. (lol) The EMTs made sure that they would be able to handle it if I passed out in his car, and off we went to a hospital. Matthew made me wait until after I’d already given blood and urine samples and was in a hospital room before calling my mom to tell her. I know that I lost my faith in her when she informed her crying teenage daughter who was in a fucking HOSPITAL BED that there were cheaper ways of trying to get attention.

Could it have been five days ago, when I had a seizure while riding my bike, and barely had enough control to jerk my bike right, into an empty parking lot, rather than left, into oncoming traffic, where I crashed and laid for what felt like an eternity, trying to regain control of my body enough to finish the two mile ride back home, and no one so much as sent a second glance my way?

But could it have been three nights ago, when I went country dancing at a bar with a group of friends the night after I stayed up all night studying, when I had a seizure while dancing, and managed to stagger and collapse against a wall, rather than in the middle of the dance floor, and, due to both these factors, ended up laying near the wall waiting for my friends to be ready to leave before someone informed the management of the girl who was passed out on the floor? They got my friends, and I had to be carried out by two of my (large) male friends.  I think it was when someone congratulated my friends on getting the obviously underage girl so drunk and my friends had to tell the guy that I was sick, and he didn’t even apologize, more so than the fact that I had a seizure at a bar in the first place.

Could it have been, just maybe, the fact that, as a female, I always carrying a visible weapon to deter the possible predators, and I know that, no matter what happens to me, I will always do my best to beat the living shit out of anyone who so much as dares to attempt to sexually assault someone else, and yet I still fear what will happen when that day comes? Will I be punished, for defending a girl? Or will I be punished, for ‘embarrassing a man by helping him out’? Will someone else stand up for me the next time? Cause I know that I’ve almost always been entirely on my own before. I don’t want to place my trust in someone, only for them to be the one who attacks me.  Again.

[fgjhfdrtgfd]

December 11th, 2017

What a fucking year. I’m glad it’s almost over. I’m glad and heartbroken at the same time. To think this will be the last year of my life that I will be able to spend time with my grandmother devastates me. At the same time I just want to put this year past me and start fresh in 2018. So many new things are going to happen which I’m sick over but I know the hard choices to make are the right ones. It would be so easy to stay at home, hanging out with my brothers, working a stupid job and going to community college. It is much harder to take the big step of moving out, transferring to a University and throwing myself into an entire new world. I can’t stand change and everything in my life is about to change. It’s a whirlwind. I’m grateful I quit my job at the FF a few weeks ago and have had this time to rejuvenate myself and get back to where I should be mentally and physically. I needed the time to grieve at my own pace and to have the alone time I have craved over the last year. Looking back I can’t believe how quick it went. I forgot how many days I spent working, driving to Hoag, sitting at the hospital, driving home and then doing it all again. It was crazy. Yet somehow I held myself together during that time. I don’t know how I did and I can’t believe I did. I rose to the occasion and was strong for everyone around me and I’m very proud of myself for that. I was surprised to be fine after she passed but expected it to stay the same. The waves of sadness started slow and then came in more frequently as they still do. Now it mostly catches me by surprise. Walking in target through the women’s clothes section. Walking in Kohl’s and seeing all of the Christmas stuff. Seeing pics of other girls dealing with family members hospitalized. Random things like this are now effecting me more and more. I miss her. I keep thinking I need to call her or when I’m cooking rice I think to call and ask how much butter and then I remember. It’s the strangest thing.

It is important to note that I expected my entire life to shatter when she passed when I was younger. And it didn’t. I don’t know if I’ve prepared myself well and that helped but even for people like my mom who took it so hard, she is still going along just fine. It’s odd how the world keeps turning. Life goes on and the world doesn’t end. I have learned since I lost such a crucial person to my life and things continued on just fine, that I can really handle anything thrown my way. I was blessed that I was open and honest in my love for her and grateful to have had such a unique and loving relationship with her so that definitely helped.

I have found ways of coping that are not ideal for my mental state. As always, I am focusing on guys to distract me from my sadness of losing her. At least my focusing consists of things in my head and not me being a whore. I became infatuated with one of my Gma’s nurses in the CCU named Mish. It made the hospital days better because I would actually make myself look half decent and had something to look forward to that didn’t consist of my Gramma being sick and in pain. He was very sweet and different and even invited me to go to Peru with him. My mom loved him and thought he was beautiful of course. He asked for my number and stuff and asked my mom where I was one day and said he liked smart people. I still want to sleep with him just because of the story. My gramma actually had a dream I married him and went travelling or something. Haha. Her and my damn mom always trying to marry me off.

Mish took my mind off Moe for quite some time. After I sent Moe that huge text in January of this year I didn’t hear from him for a few months. Then he started to randomly reply to things here and there every other month or so. He texted me when my gramma passed which was nice. I never received a response of any substance to me pouring my heart out to him though. And I think somehow I knew I wouldn’t get one. I don’t know why he is the way he is. I don’t know if he really doesn’t care or if he just that scared to be vulnerable. Both of those don’t make complete sense. I have this story in my head that he loves me as I love him but looking at it realistically, there is no evidence of this. Many words have been spoken by him to me but there have been no actions to prove the things he has said. I need to focus on that because nothing else is real. Only actions are real. I haven’t seen him in over 2 years so how the fuck could I still be so entirely caught on him? I have isolated myself from the world so that’s definitely a potential reason why I haven’t gotten over it. My mind only knows to go back to him so that’s what it does. I remember when I was younger and caught on TJ and then Garret and then of course on Nick. All of these guys I truly thought I would marry and end up with and love forever. Did any of that happen? Fuck no. So I don’t trust what my heart tells me about Moe either because it’s been wrong many times. How can I trust myself when I led myself in the wrong direction time and time again? Moe messaged me on thanksgiving and told me I was beautiful and that he will always love me. No matter what. And I put 🙄 and he said forever n ever. I said lol. And then he says one day we will be bffs again. Well no one day we won’t. There’s too much history there’s too much chemistry now. Why can’t he just leave me alone for good? I don’t know what to do anymore it’s driving my crazy. I want the relationship to begin or I want it to be out of my head for good. I want clarity from him but I don’t know how to respond to him anymore. We are so far from what we used to be when we were younger there’s no going back. I miss our friendship and the guidance he gave me because he is similar in so many ways. I don’t have people I can talk to like that because no one else is so it sucks that we’ve ruined this. And I just want to be with him and I don’t know why I’m not. I don’t know why he has to be like this. I know there are lessons to be learnt for both of us but it’s time for me to have another signifact other and I can’t imagine it begin anyone other than him.

Again, I have always been ready for the next step when the other person isn’t. And I always have to deal with being sad initially and then getting over it and then hearing from the guy saying he still loves me and it’s always too late. And it fucking blows if this is another episode of that.

Anyways, I’m in palm desert. Been here for 4 days and have read 3 books in that time. I am in better physical shape than I ever have been and my passion at the gym has been reignited. I am ready for life to blossom and for new opportunities.