Marathoning Four Weddings and SYTTD while I stuff my face with rice so I can start my second layer of paint. Project pics coming soon!
So we had our second real outing since I fell ill at the beginning of the month, and I did my face and wore a bra and we went to the Restore and I found my block of wood for my next project so I just have to do a little research and I'll be showing you another awesome Pinterest project. But before we went home we found a really nice park in a questionable area and THERE WERE DUCKLINGS. Be still my beating heart. One day I will catch one. And one day...it shall be mine.
I was excited. But now she's remembered how to take it off. She scratches it off with her foot. Now she only has it on for a few seconds. I'm so sad. I loved hearing the little jingle bells every time she moved :(
Me and the bf bought Celia this collar right when we got her, at the tender baby kitten age of 3 months. She hated it and ripped it off every time. We would put it on her one minute and the next we'd either realize she wasn't wearing it anymore or we'd discover it splayed on the floor somewhere. Well we're moving into the bf's mom's basement soon for money saving purposes and I really, really want her to have a collar. So in an attempt to get her used to wearing one again I put it on her, and since she's no longer a lean little 3 month old kitty and instead a year old and slightly chunky one she can't get it off. It's a miracle. I only wish I had taken a picture of the size it was at before I re-sized it to fit that little chunk, because it was TINY. But it's okay. She's still that size in my heart. Or something cheesy like that.
It's just crazy to believe that I went through a 23 day torture. It was emotionally and physically challenging, and I had very little sanity the whole time. I basically feel like Theon Greyjoy from GOT. Who got tortured forever by Bolton's bastard and now goes by Reek. Now, I realize I didn't get my penis cut off, but still. And I didn't get sickly tortured by some crazy guy who shoves stuff under your nails and hunts women with dogs and lets them eat her afterward and then flays people for fun, but still. It was pretty similar.
Who wants a recap of my month of July? Pssh, here's a better question: Who doesn't?? Ha, such enthusiasm. Alright, calm down. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?
3 a.m. Crazy burning in my stomach. Thoughts: "What the fuck? Am I on fire?" Action taken: Hurried to the bathroom, went but didn't throw up. Took Tums. Immediate relief. But wait...can...can I not--yeah, I can't breathe. Think I have asthma. I had exercise induced asthma as a kid, if this is an asthma attack I have nothing for it.
4 a.m. Telling the bf to get dressed, he's taking me to the ER. Fumbling with my phone to find a hospital.
4:10 a.m. There's one right on our street.
4:15 a.m. It's closed. Breathing is worse. Fumbling to find another hospital with 50% difficulty breathing. Find one 12 minutes away.
4:20 a.m. Yelling at the bf to drive faster.
4:22 a.m. Yelling at the bf to drive faster.
4:25 a.m. Can't find the hospital. Call. Think I found it. Pull up to it. It's closed.
4:26 a.m. Freaking the fuck out. 70% difficulty breathing. Throw phone at bf, whispers because can't talk, "Handle this."
4:27 a.m. Bf calls hospital. Finds real, open hospital, drops me off at entrance, I'm immediately taken in.
4:30 a.m. A shit ton of doctors crowd around my hospital bed. One is wearing a surfer bro seashell necklace. Wishing I could talk so I could tell him to get out of my room, I want someone who practices medicine, please.
4:31+ a.m. Get blood drawn. Get x-ray taken. Nothing's wrong. Lungs are clear. 99% oxygen in blood. No sign of asthma. Blood tests negative. Maybe it's anxiety. Here's some GERD medication, because maybe you have acid reflux. Also, I want to give you this other med that will make your tongue go numb. "No thanks."
6 a.m. Get home. Crash into bed.
Don't refill prescription. Doubtful of GERD. Believe I had anxiety attack. Stupid doctors with surfer bro seashell necklaces.
3 p.m. Totally fine. Renaissance Festival.
9 p.m. Fireworks. Minor anxiety attack, but otherwise, near perfect day.
Go to work. Feeling really dumb I went to ER. Fearful of the bill.
Go to work. Feeling really really dumb I went to ER. That bill is going to fuck me so hard. Take a nap. Wake up with huge rash. Burst out crying, holy fucking shit when will I stop dying, call sister. She says fill that GERD prescription, GERD is very serious and if left alone will erode esophagus. Good luck breathing then. Also, get Benadryl and hydrocortisone. Rash goes away in 4-5 hours. Still alive.
At this point: On one med.
Birthday. Depressed. Hospital bill. $3,037. Nauseous. No birthday festivities. Feel sick going to Jim 'n Nicks. Turn around. Drive through Panera for soup. Go home.
8 a.m. Go to work. Difficulty breathing. Tell boss. Ask if I can call doctor. If there's an opening, will go, be in work tomorrow. Call doctor. No appointments available until the 13th. "Okay, fine." Made appointment. Call urgent care. Can come in. Make appointment. Call mom. I can't breathe. "It's anxiety." "You're probably right. I'll try to stick it out." Cancel urgent care appointment. I just went to the ER. I can't afford more hospital bills anyway. Go back to work. Still can't breathe. Panting. Can't catch breath. Tell boss I'm not okay. I feel like I'm going to pass out. Leave. Go home. Bf is an hour away with mom. Call doctor. Can't wait till 13th. Is anyone available sooner? Tara, 10th. Call mom. Suggests relaxing. Probably anxiety. Take a bath. Watch something. Get your mind off it.
4 p.m. Call mom. "I just read the side effects of my GERD medication and an allergic reaction to it means difficulty breathing." Mom: "Call your pharmacy ask what other medication you can have." Call Walgreens. "Hi I'm having difficulty breathing and I think it might be because of my medication." "Hang up and call 911." "We--um...are you sure?" "Yes. If you cannot breathe you need to be contacting medical services. Hang up, call 911." "But...okay...thanks." Hang up. Call urgent care. "How do you know if you're having an anxiety attack or you seriously can't breathe because of medication?" Urgent care rep is quiet and stuttering words for three minutes. "I would call whoever gave you that medication." Call ER. On hold for 10 mins. Hang up.
6 p.m. Watching Phineas and Ferb. Trying to relax. Mom calls. How do you feel? Like I can't breathe. Where's bf? In Thornton. You should go to urgent care. Can you drive?
6:15 p.m. At urgent care. Nurse fetched despite people in waiting room. Tell her can't breathe. Might be allergic to GERD medication; allergies include difficulty breathing. Also, may have asthma. They admit me. Lungs are clear. Throat is clear, no swelling, no allergic reactions. Blood pressure perfect. 99% oxygen in blood. Nothing's wrong. But here's an inhaler and anxiety meds if it makes you feel better.
At this point: On three meds.
Call out. I went to urgent care. Bad anxiety. Will come in to work after appointment tomorrow.
Appointment. Get tested for asthma. Don't have it. Lungs clear. Blood pressure good. Tell doc I'm tired. Diarrhea. No appetite. "I'm going to test you for H Pylori." Get blood drawn. Told to use inhaler. Haven't yet because I'm scared. Go home and use it. Heart pounds for four hours. Panting. Won't use again. Embarrassed I've gone to three doctors in one week. Nothing's wrong with me. Blood test expensive, wish hadn't taken it. Wondering how I'm going to pay for all this.
11 a.m. Call office. Offices are closed, but can still reach doc at home. Reaches doc. Should inhaler make my heart race? It wouldn't calm down for four hours. Yes, that's what it does.
3 p.m. Call mom. Can't breathe. "Call doc." Call office, which calls doc. I really can't breathe. Instructed to use inhaler. Bawling on couch. I do. Mom calls, bf has to answer, freaking out right now, also, can't breathe. Takes inhaler. Calms down.
Mom drives 1 1/2 hours to pick me up. We get home and I lay down. Me and sister watch Bob's Burgers.
No improvements. Tired. Panting. Exhausted. No appetite. Family goes to kid sister's basketball game. Terrified to be alone. In such bad shape when they get back I'm reduced to a whisper. Kid sister gets whiteboard so I can communicate. I draw Louise from Bob's Burgers.
Get a voicemail from doc. Tested positive for H Pylori. I'm to pick up amoxicillin, clarithrymocin, omeprazol. Stop taking GERD medication. Me and mom high five that something's finally wrong with me and I'm not insane. Start antibiotics. Mom makes appointment to see allergist at the buttcrack of dawn. After much research, 40% of people with GERD get H Pylori, and allergies and asthma go hand in hand. We think my allergies have developed an infection in my nose, which drains down my throat, which formed an infection in my stomach (H Pylori), which causes GERD.
At this point: On five meds.
Go to allergist. I don't have asthma. Stop using inhaler. It's not doing anything. Because you don't have asthma. Can't do any tests because you're on a shit ton of meds. But I don't really care. Take Flonase and montelucast. Now go away. Wait, is my nose infected? No. So it didn't cause H Pylori? No. Spend day coughing inhaler up.
Not feeling great. Bf picks me up. We go to dinner. Make two trips to bathroom. Not feeling confident enough to leave the comfort of my family's care. Get in the car to leave, have a meltdown in the front yard. Watch Bob's Burgers for the hour drive back. Call out. Still not great. I just started antibiotics. Can push till Sunday? "Be here Sunday."
Testing myself for work. Try to do dishes, panting, out of breath. Call out for another week.
4 p.m. First heartburn since ER. Freaking out. Burning. Hurts. Take two Tums even though I'm on antacid pills which I take two times a day. Can't breathe. Holy fuck I can't breathe. Bf calms me down. Alleviates after 5 hours.
Taking it easy. Terrified of heartburn. Doesn't lay down all day. Difficulty breathing.
3 a.m. Wake up with upset tummy. Run to the bathroom. Goes. Dumps trash out of trash can, holds on lap while I dry heave 5 times. The last two stuff comes up but my reflex swallows it. I stand, pull up pants, kneel by toilet, heave, yellow bile comes out. It burns. It's so nasty. It's pure acid. Pain goes away, but I'm shaky. Very shaky. Gets applesauce. Turns on TV. Sits on couch, assure bf I'm okay. Stomach hurts. Can't stop it. It hurts. Forces self to lay down. Maybe will throw up again. Falls asleep on couch. Wakes up at 7, moves back to bed.
Call doc. Leave voicemail. Why am I getting worse? Shouldn't I be getting better?
Get call back from new girl. Says she'll ask doc my concerns and promises to call me back that day. Never calls back.
Call office. "I never got called back." "I have her message here. She wrote Tara said to make an appointment." Make appointment.
See doc. Ask a million questions. Finally get my answers: "H Pylori causes an overproduction of stomach acid, which causes GERD-like symptoms, which causes asthmatic symptoms." Which means I have H Pylori. Which also means I don't necessarily have GERD or asthma.
Boom. Got the answer backwards, but did eventually get it. Even though it took 23 days. But now, I'm finally feeling okay. Which is the only reason I was able to write all that. Huzzah.
Here's a little short I wrote for Figment.com as an entry to the contest Molecules. You had to write something under 800 words about someone who would do anything to be popular. So, without further ado, I give you "Ned vs The Populars":
NED VS THE POPULARS
“I want to be popular.”
Her nose scrunched in mild distaste. “Why?”
He sighed. “Because. I want to be liked. And I want people to throw roses and flowers at me when I pass.”
Daisy put one more brushstroke on the canvas before she looked at him. “Roses have thorns.”
“And you’re allergic to basically every flower out there.”
“I’m willing to endure it.”
“That’s not even what happens when you’re popular.”
“But I want it.”
“Being popular means you have to socialize with people and be nice to them and be friends with other popular people and wear fashionable outfits.”
“I can do that.”
“But you hate all those things.”
“I can change.”
She gave him a long hard look. “You really want to do this,” she said, her voice flat.
He watched her seriously. “I really want to do this.”
She sighed. “Then I’ll help you.”
POPULAR TRAINING DAY 1
“First of all, you probably want to get fit. Do fifty pushups.”
“I’m hardly in the right attire to do fifty pushups, Daisy.”
“I told you to wear sweats.”
“I don’t have any, I threw out all my uncool clothes last night.”
“Huh. So what does that leave?”
“Three shirts and some socks.”
“Looks like we need to go shopping then.”
POPULAR TRAINING DAY 2
“Talk about a steal, huh?” Ned was saying, looking through his bag of new clothes. “Two shirts for the price of one?”
“I know, and with Taylor Swift’s face on them?”
“Let’s just say she didn’t know I was trouble when I walked in.”
“So shame on her.”
“Wait, you don’t think they’re uncool, do you?”
“What? Everyone loves Taylor Swift.”
“I mean I would think so.”
“Who doesn’t love her. Name one person.”
He shook his head. “None.”
“It’s like hating puppies. And burritos.”
“It is. It’s actually exactly like that.”
“Okay so fashionable clothes acquired. What’s next?”
“Okay so now we work on your fitness.”
“Okay tell me what to do.”
“Do three jumping jacks.”
Ned did three jumping jacks.
“Cherry pickers. Do some cherry pickers.”
“Okay how many.”
After a few he started panting. “Okay that’s a lot.”
“Good, now go run around.”
“Just…just go run around? Like the room?”
He started jogging in circles. “For how long?”
He stopped, out of breath as he put his hands on his hips. “Good. I think that’s good.”
“I’ll bet you already have a six-pack.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it.”
“Let’s look later.”
POPULAR TRAINING DAY 3
“Alright so step three is get a popular girlfriend.”
“Patty Moore. The most popular girl in school.”
“But she’s already going out with Mason Cusack. Who’s hot, rich, and probably related to John Cusack.”
“Mm. Good point. He’s really hot.”
“He’s like half Matthew McConaughey half Ian Somerhalder and half Angelina Jolie.”
She shrugged. “He’s kind of pretty.”
“But I’m good looking too.”
“Yeah. Yeah. You’re a matured handsome, like George Clooney and Donald Sutherland.”
He made a face. “Why so old? Do I look old?”
“No, you look normal.”
“So why so old, then?”
“I said you’re matured. It’s like aged wine. Or cheese.”
“So I’m aged cheese.”
He shook his head. “Okay never mind. So step three: Be more irresistible than Mason so Patty will notice me.”
“So take bits and pieces of the three halves that make up Mason and apply them to your life so you’re just as beautiful.”
“Okay, like what.”
“Like look more like Matthew McConaughey, become a vampire, and have six children.”
“I don’t think that’s what makes Angelina Jolie so pretty, though.”
“Yes. You’re right. She does her eyebrows. Maybe you should pluck your eyebrows?”
“I’m not doing that.”
“And you can’t become a vampire…”
“And you look nothing like Matthew McConaughey.”
“You know what, never mind, you’re fine.”
THE NEXT DAY
“So you’ve graduated from Daisy’s School for Populars and it’s time to go out there and shine. Shine like you’ve never shined before.”
“I don’t feel particularly shiny.”
“Think sparkly vampires and you will.
“I don’t know, Daisy…”
“Ned. You passed with flying colors. Go ask Patty out.”
“But what happens if she says yes?”
“Then you go out with her.”
“But what do we talk about?”
“I don’t know.”
“If I was going on a date with her I probably wouldn’t say anything.”
“But you want it to go well.”
“Then buy her beer or something—”
“Give her money?”
“I’m not paying her for going out with me—”
“I wouldn’t mind either of those things.”
“Okay you know what? I’m just gonna wing it. I’m going to go out there and ask her out.”
“You go boy.”
“And if she says no, then we’ll think of something else.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“We might have to kill Mason, who knows.”
“I’m not killing Mason.”
“I mean it probably won’t come to that, but still.”
“I’m not killing Mason.”
“We’ll try to think of other things but that’s our last resort.”
“That’s, no, that’s not, no one’s killing Mason.”
“Okay. Here goes. If she says no, we’re killing Mason.”
It's well over 800 words but who cares. You can't limit magic.
Perfect sick show. Easy going, lighthearted. I don't have to be stressed out by favorite characters whom I've adopted as my own kid and watch as they cheat on a really good boyfriend and then cause him to cheat on his wife later in the season (ahem RORY). Even though right this second Rachel is being a home wrecking slut as we speak. But I never adopted her as my kid. So it's fine.
We took another drive on his lunch break and I got some better pictures. Until I got nauseous. And made him drive home.
The bf texted me that yesterday while he was stuck in traffic on the way to get his car, and my mom texted me that this morning. She handles me so well. Nothing fazes her.
The bf bought his first car today. Tons of payments scheduled for the next 500 years of our lives, but what says adult more than that? Nothing, that's what. So I had to get his picture in front of it even though it was night and blurry and you can't see anything--you still need a first car pic.
The only bright side to all of this is I'm finally on the diet I've been meaning to go on. Well. Forced to. And I'm too scared to eat anything that's not oatmeal.
Wake up time. The scariest part of the day. I had a good night's sleep...but it all goes downhill from here.
Yesterday I had my first heartburn since the 3rd and it was just as scary. It hurt, I couldn't breathe, and it took the better half of the night for it to go away. Then I got nauseous, felt sick, and was joined by a throw up bowl. They're vicious cycles: I have gerd, which makes it hard to breathe. It makes it easiest when I lay down, but when I do I get heartburn and can't breathe even more. I have a stomach infection. It makes me exhaustingly tired and gives me nausea and diarrhea. I drink a lot to stay hydrated, so then I have to go to the bathroom every few minutes, which I'm too tired to do. AND THEN I get hungry since everything's coming out, but like last night I wasn't trying to eat since I would be going to bed soon and didn't want more heartburn. It all sucks pretty bad right now. But that hasn't happened since the 3rd. And it certainly hadn't happened where I had both gerd and infection problems at the same time until yesterday. So. If it happens again or something like it: I'm not getting better, I'm getting worse.
10:00 am, right now:
Scariest part of my life.
I fucking love this shirt. My sister got it for me for my birthday. Amazingly it's tight around the boobage. Nothing's ever tight there. Maybe my prayers are finally being answered...
Or it's just too small.
Finally made my Lana Del Rey CD. And the answer is yes. I love her more than all those bitches who have loved her before.
The fam wanted to go to the pool. And I wanted to go too. But I couldn't walk there or swim. So they drove me down a block and I sat in the shade and listened to Lana Del Rey Radio which never actually played Lana Del Rey and ate applesauce. In Mom's yoga pants. Since I didn't have the strength to pack anything when she picked me up. It was nice. (Not the radio not playing Lana Del Rey part. But everything else).
So everything's all sorted out. Finally. As far as I know. It only took two weeks. Of excruciating agony. "Will I be able to breathe today?" Hm, maybe. I'm speechless. So pictured above is my life now. Left, antibiotics. Middle, the pills I take twice a day. Right, just a wonderful pic of all the shit I had to take to the allergist appointment today. Feast your eyes.
There's something wrong with me. Like, diagnosable. Doc just called saying I tested positive for H Pylori. Now...allergic rhinitis (what I have had for the past year) gave me a bacterial infection in my nose, which I have been swallowing, which then causes GERD (what I went into the ER for), which gave me a stomach infection, which gives me shortness of breath. And allergies and GERD causes asthma (what I have now). So. I've been prescribed two antibiotics, and an acid reflux pill. And hopefully it all goes away. BUT we have to figure out how to keep this all from happening again. I have an appointment with an allergist tomorrow at the buttcrack of dawn. He'll tell me what's up. Wish me luck.
All I can ever think when I see the name Aziz (such as Aziz Ansari, for example), is that part in The Fifth Element where the priest keeps yelling at Aziz for better lighting. I hope one day I befriend Aziz, so that yelling "Aziz, light!" will be normal and not weird and we could continue living out our lives with those super soft blankets he has in his house according to Parks and Rec.
The bf has had this Yoda backpack he got from Disneyland like five years ago. And since day 1 I have made it clear that Yoda makes me cry. And I've proven it on several occasions. Well I got a text from Mom while her and little sis were at Disneyland saying she got one. And sent me a pic. And I threw up. He's just nasty. That's all. He's a puppet that sits on your back while you train to be a Jedi and he eats all your snacks. It's disgusting. And he's not the only one; gremlins. The animatronic Jaws. Basically anything fake that people give life to freaks me the fuck out. Anyway, I was sitting on the couch in my family's spare room and what do I see straight ahead? Yoda. Hence the post title.