Thursday I have a procedure to get done. I'm not sure if its considered surgery, so we'll leave it at procedure. A few posts ago I talked about what led to this ridiculous adventure. Earlier today, the surgery scheduler called to instruct me to drop all aspirin and blood thinners immediately. I couldn't choke her over the phone, so I obediently surrendered and obliged. Why did I have a brain spasm? Because that means the remainder of this week I have to survive work without my increasingly beloved Perky-cet, which contains Tylenol. I don't fear a dependence of it. No seizures or foaming of at mouth are noted. Yet. But to sit eight hours on the cheapest desk chair Office Max can manufacture, while my inflamed spine reminds me I don't love myself, scares me so much I could pee myself. Incidentally, this "procedure" is to prevent exactly that that never happens.
There's a horrible cycle going on here. Working full-time aggravates my condition. I must work to cover my health bills. My health bills probably causes hemorrhoids. My butt hates my job. You see how it has no start, nor end.
*No, I don't have hemorrhoids, because if I really did, I probably wouldn't even joke about it on the internet. I have boundaries, you know? And furthermore, to better cope with the delicate subject area, I'd change the name into something absolutely adorable. Like Poopy-itis.
So yes, today has been a relatively manageable day, but the usual caution of overloading my immune system has gone into the trepidation zone. I have to carefully pace my day so that I may wake up tomorrow feeling like a normal snap-crackle-and-pop 60 year old, rather than a coiled up 95 year old. And then hold those compliant cells until the end of the week. I'm feeding myself blood-boosting smoothies and taking many sitting breaks in between standing tasks in the kitchen.
Meanwhile, my only defense against pain in the direct area of concern is a pill that makes my urine blue. Add that to the vegetable power drink I'm having and what do you get?: blue pee and green poo!
I've always said I needed more color in my life.
I apologize to the squeamish disturbed by such inappropriate talk.
For you women who are married to a man, this is nothing. We are insensitive to bodily function humor. Pillow talk is what it is.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Giggly Truth Serum Confessions
Launching a personal blog is a daunting action. Most writing usually uncovers pieces of the author's core, but no matter what approach to manipulate a particular picture of how you want people to perceive you, the truth of who you truly are still glimmers through. I could have chosen not advertise my story to the public, bypassing the announcement to friends and some acquaintances. They only would've found out about it if they are avid internet surfers or if in ten years this website boomed. I thought about it long and hard before I set on this bold move of being a little more transparent than the lock-down mode I'd been settling into. Right before I shared it, I called a family member and Husband for opinions. I was nervous about the repercussions. Reporting information and/or stories always create an emotional response, opinions, or critics. To make this work, I knew it would require a bit of private exposition unless it was purely factual. And well, it's not.
But let me tell you, I don't regret the decision. The conversation with Husband went something like: We know the situation. We're handling it. You're not planning to live a hidden life of illness. But you've been a closed book, even with friends. It felt like a secret. It even meant rejecting sympathy when I honestly needed it. Everytime I had to explain someone I've been less social or MIA because I was sick, it was like admitting a horrible shame. My positive outlook toward cope was limited so long as I postponed a genuine explanation, instead of letting it fester on the tip of my tongue.
I said a little prayer and hit send on notifications to all, rather than to complete strangers. Every muscle temporarily froze. So soon after tracking the readers' traffic chart that this website generates, I stopped checking it every two minutes. Slowly, the tension in my shoulders released and my lungs remembered to expand deeper. It played out almost like a confession. I didn't have to go into detail; I didn't have to go over this long saga of what's been leading up to this day for so long, but I embraced my reality fully. By the next day, I was catching up with friends that I had reduced contact with for fear of mine and their reaction to this news.
This week - health-wise - has been stupid; however, I've been spunkier and more productive than usual. Not necessarily more physically active, but mentally and emotionally. Without the burden of trying to conceal that I'm not the firecracker I once was, I was free to talk about other things going on in life and smile easier; despite subtle aches roaming in the body. I felt lighter and lighter as I stopped giving the problem so much attention and focusing on relationships and goals.
Last night, I watched Knight and Day on DVD. At some point in the movie, Cameron Diaz is administered a truth serum. It was some experimental technology that made her laugh and enjoy spitting out thoughts on the forefront. I thought to myself, "This is what it felt like this weekend". No, it is not the Percocet talking. The half- tablet is not that powerful. I exposed myself a little bit, although of course, just a few aspects of life, not all. I reconnected with friends. I'm doing it through one of my favorite mediums: writing. And I received an overwhelming understanding and awesome response. It's off my chest. I feel I've that I've man-handled a huge part of the challenge life has thrown at us.
All this is very mushy and layered. Normally, I would prefer to twist this into some form of sarcastic humor, but as long as I'm in the spirit of motivation, I'm gonna suck it up and continue sounding like a self-help book for another paragraph. This might be a personal experience, but like I've said before, I share to relate. I hope other people, especially younguns or withdrawn ones who are very aware of this critical and harsh world, can find ways to express themselves. Keeping things bottled in only create stress, a confused heart, a conflicted mind, and constipation. Not out of proportion either. Listing every emotion on a Facebook status is NOT healthy. There is a balance of knowing who, when, how, and how much, to share. But it's so liberating, and even surprising, how being genuine and truthful can grow confidence. It took me a while to come clean, but now I have a buzzing giddiness to brag about, and more space to welcome more challenges.
But let me tell you, I don't regret the decision. The conversation with Husband went something like: We know the situation. We're handling it. You're not planning to live a hidden life of illness. But you've been a closed book, even with friends. It felt like a secret. It even meant rejecting sympathy when I honestly needed it. Everytime I had to explain someone I've been less social or MIA because I was sick, it was like admitting a horrible shame. My positive outlook toward cope was limited so long as I postponed a genuine explanation, instead of letting it fester on the tip of my tongue.
I said a little prayer and hit send on notifications to all, rather than to complete strangers. Every muscle temporarily froze. So soon after tracking the readers' traffic chart that this website generates, I stopped checking it every two minutes. Slowly, the tension in my shoulders released and my lungs remembered to expand deeper. It played out almost like a confession. I didn't have to go into detail; I didn't have to go over this long saga of what's been leading up to this day for so long, but I embraced my reality fully. By the next day, I was catching up with friends that I had reduced contact with for fear of mine and their reaction to this news.
This week - health-wise - has been stupid; however, I've been spunkier and more productive than usual. Not necessarily more physically active, but mentally and emotionally. Without the burden of trying to conceal that I'm not the firecracker I once was, I was free to talk about other things going on in life and smile easier; despite subtle aches roaming in the body. I felt lighter and lighter as I stopped giving the problem so much attention and focusing on relationships and goals.
Last night, I watched Knight and Day on DVD. At some point in the movie, Cameron Diaz is administered a truth serum. It was some experimental technology that made her laugh and enjoy spitting out thoughts on the forefront. I thought to myself, "This is what it felt like this weekend". No, it is not the Percocet talking. The half- tablet is not that powerful. I exposed myself a little bit, although of course, just a few aspects of life, not all. I reconnected with friends. I'm doing it through one of my favorite mediums: writing. And I received an overwhelming understanding and awesome response. It's off my chest. I feel I've that I've man-handled a huge part of the challenge life has thrown at us.
All this is very mushy and layered. Normally, I would prefer to twist this into some form of sarcastic humor, but as long as I'm in the spirit of motivation, I'm gonna suck it up and continue sounding like a self-help book for another paragraph. This might be a personal experience, but like I've said before, I share to relate. I hope other people, especially younguns or withdrawn ones who are very aware of this critical and harsh world, can find ways to express themselves. Keeping things bottled in only create stress, a confused heart, a conflicted mind, and constipation. Not out of proportion either. Listing every emotion on a Facebook status is NOT healthy. There is a balance of knowing who, when, how, and how much, to share. But it's so liberating, and even surprising, how being genuine and truthful can grow confidence. It took me a while to come clean, but now I have a buzzing giddiness to brag about, and more space to welcome more challenges.
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