So I haven't written in here in ages.
I went to Denmark with my mom and sister. It was fabulous. Viking ships and castles and cobblestone streets everywhere and a beach where two seas flowing in opposite directions meet and crash into eachother. We spent two nights on the island of Aero which was charming as hell and my mom drove everywhere which was impressive as hell and we did too much shopping on account of the other two people I was with and my mom's search for a raincoat (it was cold and rained half the time we were there, even though it was the end of August). Maybe later I'll go through my notes and write more about the trip, but right now it's 6-something AM and I just can't sleep so I'm writing.
The most amazing thing about the trip, I think, was that a year ago my mom was going through her breast cancer and now we were running around a foreign country from 8 AM until we passed out, usually long after 10, for ten days straight. I often felt like I had to keep up with her. Just one year after the cancer summer.
When we got back, she went to work two days later and, jet lagged as hell, her leg fell asleep and she fell wrong on her foot and fractured it. It was just a hairline fracture, but a fracture nonetheless. No cast, but one of those giant boots she has to wear for at least another week.
In other news of the bad health of beings I love, my dog got scary bloody-eye glaucoma. It was not fabulous. After months of eye drops and specialist visits, he ended up having his eye removed because it just kept getting worse and was clearly very painful. Turned out there was a benign tumor growing in there. The real fear was a malignant tumor, but tumor was definitely expected, so having the eye removed was clearly the right thing to do. He's still healing--the surgery was only a week ago and he gets his stitches removed on Monday. It looks like one eye is just closed all the time, but right now he's stuck in a cone and keeps bumping into things. Otherwise he's pretty much back to normal, going on regular-length walks and huffing and puffing at the world as he tromples about the house. I think he's still adorable.
Then there's Corvus. He's in Colorado with his mom. He left the same time we left for Denmark (end of August) and still hasn't come back. He had a recording project out there that, when almost finished, went awry as the guy he was recording assaulted Corvus's mom and Corvus (long story, but Corvus pissed him off...doesn't justify assault but Corvus did something that was, in my opinion, really rash and dumb). The guy being recorded ended up mouthing off to the judge (speaking of rash and dumb...) and landed himself a double felony conviction. With his father vouching to make sure to get him to all his hearings and whatnot, he's on probation and back in his home state, project unfinished. Now Corvus is trying to get paid for his time engineering and everything else on an unfinished record and seems to think he can't return to Chicago until he sees his money. So it's about to be seven weeks since I've seen him with no concrete sense of when he's actually coming back.
When I first got back from Denmark I missed Corvus painfully, but the longer it's been the more I feel ok on my own and just see how unreliable he is. I still love him, I still miss him, but I don't see spending the rest of my life with him, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I'm 29 and I'm happy to be with him if he gets his ass back here but I wonder about finding a Forever. I also wonder if I'm not being fair; he's only 26 and still getting his own life in order. Was I reliable three years ago? It's not much time, but for some people it can be huge. Is he just immature? Or am I making excuses for him now? I wish I knew. Either way, absence is not making the heart grow fonder, it's making the heart ask all kinds of questions and get all kinds of annoyed and impatient.
Great. It's barely after 7 AM and the workers across the street are making beeping noises with their trucks. I was hoping to get back to sleep at some point...
Showing posts with label my sister. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my sister. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Cysterly Love
As I clung to the shaggy green fibers of my bathmat and tried to concentrate on my fingers and the feeling of the floor instead of the pain in my abdomen, I wondered if I'd ever be able to eat again. I thought about Julie and her four years of tube feedings. I understood the ability to give up all food if this kind of pain was the alternative, but wondered what kind of life one could possibly have without food. Eating is such an important experience for me. I understood having all of your guts transplanted with the hope of being able to eat again. And then I thought about what the transplant did to Julie. How she's been in the ICU, sedated and waving at death ever since. What it's done to her family, with her parents now living month-to-month in Florida in an apartment chosen entirely for its proximity to the hospital and her sister now in charge of everything else back in Michigan. What is life worth? What is pain worth? Will they ever figure out what's wrong with Julie? Would they ever figure out what's wrong with me?
Mine started weeks earlier. I needed to pee even after I'd peed. I wondered if I had an extremely mild urinary tract infection. I've never had one and I'm not a very good candidate for contracting one (since I'm not having The Sex and I'm fairly compulsively clean to the point I use those flushable wipes in addition to regular toilet paper and never go more than 48 hours without showering), but they're so common and easy to deal with, I just drank lots of water and figured it would clear up on its own and if it got bad I'd go to my doctor. No big deal.
I've also been back to More Migraine Than Freedom pretty much since Thanksgiving. Maybe even before. I got stuck at my parents' house for days when my car window decided to randomly fall off its track and after the mechanic out by them fixed it, I was too dead to drive home. Then I went to NBF's house and spent two days there passed out and eating his food and occasionally taking the dogs out but he mostly did that, too.
At the end of January, my health insurance starts paying for my migraine care again. I'm supposed to call my neurologist and make an appointment for then so we can start fixing things again. I don't know why I haven't yet. I think I'm scared it still won't help and I'm sick of getting my hopes up and being a walking pharmacy and new tests and pokings and proddings that result in maybe feeling a little better some of the time but still feeling vaguely awful most of the time.
I go through phases where I do mini-workouts at home, usually including the lame-ass push-ups where you are on your knees, lunges, crunches, and whatever else strikes my fancy. Sunday night I did a lot of crunches including the kind where you lay on your stomach and crunch up backwards. Monday the pressure in my bladder was almost painful, I had to pee all the time (no trouble when I peed and regular good ol' non-smelly almost clear yellow pee came out), and I just kind of hurt in my general low-down inner gut area. I wondered if it was the crunches. Tuesday, it was clearly not the crunches. It still hurt, I still felt like I had an old lady or preggers bladder, and let's just say pooping wasn't a particularly pleasant experience.
I called my doctor. She couldn't see me, but her associate could. Fine. Associate at 3:30 PM.
I made NBF drive me. I was feeling pretty gross, though the actuall pain was less bad. More like "significant discomfort." I told the doctor what was wrong. She squished my belly and abdomen. I peed in a cup. I used to have serious issues with that, having to talk myself down from my OCD tendencies almost as much as getting blood drawn. Apparently, I'm much better at dealing with it now. No big deal.
Tentative diagnosis pending urinalisis: bladder infection. The place that was the most uncomfortable when she squished was apparently my bladder, and this was after I'd peed. The instant dipstick test of my urine was positive for traces of blood, too, which would indicate bladder infection. So the doctor gave me antibiotics that were "known to be good on stool" and said she hoped the drugs would clear up the problem before we even got the confirmation from the lab that it truly was a bladder infection.
My doctor's office is on the 11th floor of the Galter Pavilion at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. We dropped off my perscription at the Walgreens on the first floor, got dunch at the Au Bon Pan on the second floor, and went back to the first floor to pick up my perscription and validate the parking ticket.
I dutifully took my pills that night and Wednesday morning and night. I still hurt and didn't feel like eating much, but I mixed ramen noodles with Indian mashed vegetable curry for lunch and finished off the last of my raisin bran for dinner.
I woke up Thursday some time before 6 AM in pain. I had to pee, I had to poop. I did. It hurt my guts to do so, especially the lower right part (higher than the earlier pain, but below my belly button). I still hurt. A lot. It was like the worst gas pain and/or the worst period cramps ever, but in the wrong places. The experience was like having really terrible diarhea, but with regular poop. Running to the bathroom, clutching my guts, hoping it's over, crawling back to bed without the pain subsiding, big sharp stabs, wishing to fall back asleep, back to the bathroom, not wanting to have to sit up any longer, clutching the bathmat, thinking of Julie.
I called my doctor back to say what was going on. To say I was in hell, the worst pain of my life and I get migraines. Migraines aren't so sudden. They are extreme, but at least you can adjust to them. This was sharp and intense and unfamiliar. Help. I don't think this is a bladder infection anymore, since I've been taking my antibiotics. They left a message for the doctor to call me back when she could. I don't know why I knew I wasn't in immediate danger, but I did.
I called my sister. My mom was seeing clients that day and I didn't want to bug her. This was painful, but even if it was something serious, there was no reason to have her around stressing and missing things in the waiting room of the ER or something when I knew my sister wasn't doing anything. I woke my sister up and she said she'd come in a few hours. I figured that would be fine. If I needed more immediate attention, I could call NBF or 911. Until then, I didn't want to leave the comfort of my own bed and bathroom and the run back and forth. Mostly, I wanted someone to come and walk my dog for me and deal with anything else that might arise, since I was completely incapable.
I may be buying a condo very very soon. In Rogers Park, preferably right on the lake. I have the money my grandparents left me that apparently my parents have also been supplimenting over the years, and it's sitting in a nice tust fund that's purpose from the start was to finance education and/or a first home. With the economy in the shitter, the entire housing market looks like Filene's Basement. Part of me is very hesitant to buy something here, since I'm not positive I want to stay in Chicago long-term. I miss many of my friends who live in other states, NBF is moving to San Diego to be all lawyery in a year, and yesterday the temperature hit 8 F not counting windchill.
But I have family here. And I do have friends here.
I wasn't aware that I'd fallen asleep until the phone rang. My sister was downstairs and needed to be let in. The pain was quiet now. She walked my dog, who was desperate enough to go out and familiar enough with her that he didn't do his usual apeshit barky routine. My guts were still uncomfortable, but nothing like earlier. I was afraid to eat but I kept drinking. My sister and I talked about calling various friends we knew in the health professions. My dad is a doctor (former internist turned Insurance Company Health Administration Bad Guy, except he's a good guy...) but he was still in Bermuda for some conference thing. Then my sister mentioned kidney stones. We looked them up on WebMD and I decided that sounded right, since it was right around where the pain was and it came in two big waves and maybe there was a stone hanging out in my bladder. I kept drinking water but was afraid to eat. My sister had oatmeal. We called my doctor back and left the message that maybe it was kidney stones? Just a thought.
I took a long shower and shaved more carefully and completely than I do for bikini season. I figured if people were going to be poking around at me, possibly at my "lady parts," I wanted to be as well-groomed as humanly possible. The shower also felt fabulous, and I had a fear that I would check into the hospital and they would keep me, like Julie, and this might be the last good shower I got for a long time.
The doctor's assistant had called while I was in the shower. They wanted me to come in for a CT scan ASAP, but the soonest they could get me an appointment was the next morning at 6:20 AM. I could go to the ER and hope to be squeezed in some time before that, but there was a solid chance I still wouldn't get in until the next morning and would be stuck in the ER. I called back. 6:20 AM, CT scan it would be. My urinalysis from Tuesday came back with no signs of infection, so it clearly was not a bladder infection after all and I should stop taking the antibiotics. It could very well be kidney stones. Sounded like it. Then I asked about food. Apple sauce, soup, jello. I said I was feeling like eggs. "No eggs."
I had none of these foods in my apartment, so my sister and I had to go grocery shopping. But first we started watching The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, which I enjoyed very much and she fell asleep. I talked to NBF and informed him that I was crashing at his house so he could drive me to the 6:20 AM appointment. He was unthrilled but I knew right away he would do it.
My sister fell asleep and I got restless watching the movie. I hadn't eaten or taken any of my medications all day. We headed out to the grocery store.
I was in a daze and spent twice as long as usual (those of you who've been shopping with me know this is already an annoyingly slow process) picking
By the time we headed to the grocery store, I could barely walk straight. I hadn't eaten all day, which meant I hadn't taken my regular pills, and I felt like total crap. My sister was also hungry, and she's not very good when she's hungry, either. I stocked the cart with both super-bland easy to digest non-food foods and things I needed assuming I would be able to eat like a normal person again. I was really out of it but managed to do a fairly good job with my choices in the end. I also needed quarters so I could do a load of laundry before heading to NBF's house and the hospital. I wanted lots of good clean underwear and my hoodie and other things claimed by my hamper. I handed my sister my credit card so she could get in line and buy the groceries and I headed over to the in-grocery-store bank. No quarters, but customer service had rolls. I went to customer service. I pulled $10 out of the part of my wallet that has my quick-access stuff, like my credit cards, my drivers license, and sometimes cash. The customer service guy informed me that a roll of quarters was $10.25 because they charged a 25 cent service fee, and pointed to a sign. Lame. I complained, decided it was worth it anyway, told the customer service guy I wasn't bitching at him personally, since I knew it wasn't his fault or anything, and went back to find my sister starting to put groceries up on the conveyor belt. We discussed Jello shots with the check-out guy as he scanned watermelon, peach, and strawberry (oh how I wished they were intended for booze) and headed to the car. My sister really wanted to go to the bagel place by my apartment and it was unquestionably cold enough in the car to leave the groceries, so that was our next stop.
By this point, I was beyond stupid. I might as well have been completely drunk, having not eaten in a good 18 hours and going through Effexor withdrawl to boot. I wanted soup, but apparently the bagel place no longer sells soup, so I ordered apple cider. My sister did a make-your-own sandwich (all the ingredients you want for $60) with egg, salami, cream cheese, and sprouts. Weird girl. I went to pay for it and found my credit card was still floating by itself in my purse without the drivers license etc. chunk of my wallet. Where'd my cash go? Where'd that wallet chunk go? I paid with the credit card and started ripping my purse apart. I took everything out. I emptied my pockets. I went back to check in the car, including the grocery bags in case it fell in. Nothing. It was gone. Did I drop it back at the grocery store? I knew I had it when I took out the credit card to give to my sister to buy the groceries. I had to have had it to get the $10 to buy the quarters. That was the last place I knew for sure, customer service. I might have had it at the checkout, but maybe not.
We went back to the grocery store. We searched the parking lot. We asked at customer service. Nothing. We looked around the floor. Nothing. We found the guy who checked us out. He remembered us and tried to help us look. It was a very short amount of time and space between when I knew I had it and when I knew I didn't. No wallet. It contained my drivers license, one credit card, my ATM/debit card, my AAA card, my health insurance card, and probably $40 in cash since I'd just gone to the ATM the day before. I left my name and phone number at customer service in case someone turned it in, since I was sure it went missing right around there.
Back at my apartment, I called the credit card company to cancel the card and make sure no one had charged anything on the card that day. I hadn't used that particular card (it links to my parents' account and is just for emergencies) so it shouldn't have any charges.
The first charge made on the card was at Walgreens, at most 20 minutes after I know for a fact it was in my hand. Five more charges were then made at Target and Best Buy within half an hour. My ATM/debit card was only used to buy gas along the way. We canceled the cards and disputed the charges no problem, but I wished there was a way to instead make the next time they tried to use the card set off all kinds of alarms and have the police show up on the scene. The way things are now, they get to keep whatever they stole from the six transactions, even if we don't have to pay for them.
My sister sat me down and made me eat applesauce and soup. I started to regain my basic brain functions. I did laundry. My sister looked at Facebook and potential three bedroom places for rent in Portland, Oregon. I packed a bag with clean comfy clothes for the next day and enough clean underwear to last a week (I'm not sure why) and she handed me over to NBF by 8:30.
UNFINISHED
Mine started weeks earlier. I needed to pee even after I'd peed. I wondered if I had an extremely mild urinary tract infection. I've never had one and I'm not a very good candidate for contracting one (since I'm not having The Sex and I'm fairly compulsively clean to the point I use those flushable wipes in addition to regular toilet paper and never go more than 48 hours without showering), but they're so common and easy to deal with, I just drank lots of water and figured it would clear up on its own and if it got bad I'd go to my doctor. No big deal.
I've also been back to More Migraine Than Freedom pretty much since Thanksgiving. Maybe even before. I got stuck at my parents' house for days when my car window decided to randomly fall off its track and after the mechanic out by them fixed it, I was too dead to drive home. Then I went to NBF's house and spent two days there passed out and eating his food and occasionally taking the dogs out but he mostly did that, too.
At the end of January, my health insurance starts paying for my migraine care again. I'm supposed to call my neurologist and make an appointment for then so we can start fixing things again. I don't know why I haven't yet. I think I'm scared it still won't help and I'm sick of getting my hopes up and being a walking pharmacy and new tests and pokings and proddings that result in maybe feeling a little better some of the time but still feeling vaguely awful most of the time.
I go through phases where I do mini-workouts at home, usually including the lame-ass push-ups where you are on your knees, lunges, crunches, and whatever else strikes my fancy. Sunday night I did a lot of crunches including the kind where you lay on your stomach and crunch up backwards. Monday the pressure in my bladder was almost painful, I had to pee all the time (no trouble when I peed and regular good ol' non-smelly almost clear yellow pee came out), and I just kind of hurt in my general low-down inner gut area. I wondered if it was the crunches. Tuesday, it was clearly not the crunches. It still hurt, I still felt like I had an old lady or preggers bladder, and let's just say pooping wasn't a particularly pleasant experience.
I called my doctor. She couldn't see me, but her associate could. Fine. Associate at 3:30 PM.
I made NBF drive me. I was feeling pretty gross, though the actuall pain was less bad. More like "significant discomfort." I told the doctor what was wrong. She squished my belly and abdomen. I peed in a cup. I used to have serious issues with that, having to talk myself down from my OCD tendencies almost as much as getting blood drawn. Apparently, I'm much better at dealing with it now. No big deal.
Tentative diagnosis pending urinalisis: bladder infection. The place that was the most uncomfortable when she squished was apparently my bladder, and this was after I'd peed. The instant dipstick test of my urine was positive for traces of blood, too, which would indicate bladder infection. So the doctor gave me antibiotics that were "known to be good on stool" and said she hoped the drugs would clear up the problem before we even got the confirmation from the lab that it truly was a bladder infection.
My doctor's office is on the 11th floor of the Galter Pavilion at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. We dropped off my perscription at the Walgreens on the first floor, got dunch at the Au Bon Pan on the second floor, and went back to the first floor to pick up my perscription and validate the parking ticket.
I dutifully took my pills that night and Wednesday morning and night. I still hurt and didn't feel like eating much, but I mixed ramen noodles with Indian mashed vegetable curry for lunch and finished off the last of my raisin bran for dinner.
I woke up Thursday some time before 6 AM in pain. I had to pee, I had to poop. I did. It hurt my guts to do so, especially the lower right part (higher than the earlier pain, but below my belly button). I still hurt. A lot. It was like the worst gas pain and/or the worst period cramps ever, but in the wrong places. The experience was like having really terrible diarhea, but with regular poop. Running to the bathroom, clutching my guts, hoping it's over, crawling back to bed without the pain subsiding, big sharp stabs, wishing to fall back asleep, back to the bathroom, not wanting to have to sit up any longer, clutching the bathmat, thinking of Julie.
I called my doctor back to say what was going on. To say I was in hell, the worst pain of my life and I get migraines. Migraines aren't so sudden. They are extreme, but at least you can adjust to them. This was sharp and intense and unfamiliar. Help. I don't think this is a bladder infection anymore, since I've been taking my antibiotics. They left a message for the doctor to call me back when she could. I don't know why I knew I wasn't in immediate danger, but I did.
I called my sister. My mom was seeing clients that day and I didn't want to bug her. This was painful, but even if it was something serious, there was no reason to have her around stressing and missing things in the waiting room of the ER or something when I knew my sister wasn't doing anything. I woke my sister up and she said she'd come in a few hours. I figured that would be fine. If I needed more immediate attention, I could call NBF or 911. Until then, I didn't want to leave the comfort of my own bed and bathroom and the run back and forth. Mostly, I wanted someone to come and walk my dog for me and deal with anything else that might arise, since I was completely incapable.
I may be buying a condo very very soon. In Rogers Park, preferably right on the lake. I have the money my grandparents left me that apparently my parents have also been supplimenting over the years, and it's sitting in a nice tust fund that's purpose from the start was to finance education and/or a first home. With the economy in the shitter, the entire housing market looks like Filene's Basement. Part of me is very hesitant to buy something here, since I'm not positive I want to stay in Chicago long-term. I miss many of my friends who live in other states, NBF is moving to San Diego to be all lawyery in a year, and yesterday the temperature hit 8 F not counting windchill.
But I have family here. And I do have friends here.
I wasn't aware that I'd fallen asleep until the phone rang. My sister was downstairs and needed to be let in. The pain was quiet now. She walked my dog, who was desperate enough to go out and familiar enough with her that he didn't do his usual apeshit barky routine. My guts were still uncomfortable, but nothing like earlier. I was afraid to eat but I kept drinking. My sister and I talked about calling various friends we knew in the health professions. My dad is a doctor (former internist turned Insurance Company Health Administration Bad Guy, except he's a good guy...) but he was still in Bermuda for some conference thing. Then my sister mentioned kidney stones. We looked them up on WebMD and I decided that sounded right, since it was right around where the pain was and it came in two big waves and maybe there was a stone hanging out in my bladder. I kept drinking water but was afraid to eat. My sister had oatmeal. We called my doctor back and left the message that maybe it was kidney stones? Just a thought.
I took a long shower and shaved more carefully and completely than I do for bikini season. I figured if people were going to be poking around at me, possibly at my "lady parts," I wanted to be as well-groomed as humanly possible. The shower also felt fabulous, and I had a fear that I would check into the hospital and they would keep me, like Julie, and this might be the last good shower I got for a long time.
The doctor's assistant had called while I was in the shower. They wanted me to come in for a CT scan ASAP, but the soonest they could get me an appointment was the next morning at 6:20 AM. I could go to the ER and hope to be squeezed in some time before that, but there was a solid chance I still wouldn't get in until the next morning and would be stuck in the ER. I called back. 6:20 AM, CT scan it would be. My urinalysis from Tuesday came back with no signs of infection, so it clearly was not a bladder infection after all and I should stop taking the antibiotics. It could very well be kidney stones. Sounded like it. Then I asked about food. Apple sauce, soup, jello. I said I was feeling like eggs. "No eggs."
I had none of these foods in my apartment, so my sister and I had to go grocery shopping. But first we started watching The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, which I enjoyed very much and she fell asleep. I talked to NBF and informed him that I was crashing at his house so he could drive me to the 6:20 AM appointment. He was unthrilled but I knew right away he would do it.
My sister fell asleep and I got restless watching the movie. I hadn't eaten or taken any of my medications all day. We headed out to the grocery store.
I was in a daze and spent twice as long as usual (those of you who've been shopping with me know this is already an annoyingly slow process) picking
By the time we headed to the grocery store, I could barely walk straight. I hadn't eaten all day, which meant I hadn't taken my regular pills, and I felt like total crap. My sister was also hungry, and she's not very good when she's hungry, either. I stocked the cart with both super-bland easy to digest non-food foods and things I needed assuming I would be able to eat like a normal person again. I was really out of it but managed to do a fairly good job with my choices in the end. I also needed quarters so I could do a load of laundry before heading to NBF's house and the hospital. I wanted lots of good clean underwear and my hoodie and other things claimed by my hamper. I handed my sister my credit card so she could get in line and buy the groceries and I headed over to the in-grocery-store bank. No quarters, but customer service had rolls. I went to customer service. I pulled $10 out of the part of my wallet that has my quick-access stuff, like my credit cards, my drivers license, and sometimes cash. The customer service guy informed me that a roll of quarters was $10.25 because they charged a 25 cent service fee, and pointed to a sign. Lame. I complained, decided it was worth it anyway, told the customer service guy I wasn't bitching at him personally, since I knew it wasn't his fault or anything, and went back to find my sister starting to put groceries up on the conveyor belt. We discussed Jello shots with the check-out guy as he scanned watermelon, peach, and strawberry (oh how I wished they were intended for booze) and headed to the car. My sister really wanted to go to the bagel place by my apartment and it was unquestionably cold enough in the car to leave the groceries, so that was our next stop.
By this point, I was beyond stupid. I might as well have been completely drunk, having not eaten in a good 18 hours and going through Effexor withdrawl to boot. I wanted soup, but apparently the bagel place no longer sells soup, so I ordered apple cider. My sister did a make-your-own sandwich (all the ingredients you want for $60) with egg, salami, cream cheese, and sprouts. Weird girl. I went to pay for it and found my credit card was still floating by itself in my purse without the drivers license etc. chunk of my wallet. Where'd my cash go? Where'd that wallet chunk go? I paid with the credit card and started ripping my purse apart. I took everything out. I emptied my pockets. I went back to check in the car, including the grocery bags in case it fell in. Nothing. It was gone. Did I drop it back at the grocery store? I knew I had it when I took out the credit card to give to my sister to buy the groceries. I had to have had it to get the $10 to buy the quarters. That was the last place I knew for sure, customer service. I might have had it at the checkout, but maybe not.
We went back to the grocery store. We searched the parking lot. We asked at customer service. Nothing. We looked around the floor. Nothing. We found the guy who checked us out. He remembered us and tried to help us look. It was a very short amount of time and space between when I knew I had it and when I knew I didn't. No wallet. It contained my drivers license, one credit card, my ATM/debit card, my AAA card, my health insurance card, and probably $40 in cash since I'd just gone to the ATM the day before. I left my name and phone number at customer service in case someone turned it in, since I was sure it went missing right around there.
Back at my apartment, I called the credit card company to cancel the card and make sure no one had charged anything on the card that day. I hadn't used that particular card (it links to my parents' account and is just for emergencies) so it shouldn't have any charges.
The first charge made on the card was at Walgreens, at most 20 minutes after I know for a fact it was in my hand. Five more charges were then made at Target and Best Buy within half an hour. My ATM/debit card was only used to buy gas along the way. We canceled the cards and disputed the charges no problem, but I wished there was a way to instead make the next time they tried to use the card set off all kinds of alarms and have the police show up on the scene. The way things are now, they get to keep whatever they stole from the six transactions, even if we don't have to pay for them.
My sister sat me down and made me eat applesauce and soup. I started to regain my basic brain functions. I did laundry. My sister looked at Facebook and potential three bedroom places for rent in Portland, Oregon. I packed a bag with clean comfy clothes for the next day and enough clean underwear to last a week (I'm not sure why) and she handed me over to NBF by 8:30.
UNFINISHED
Thursday, July 03, 2008
remiss
In an email from a friend: "I've missed reading your blog posts - have you given up on Annabell Jo?"
Hell no. Out of the habit. Distracted. That's bad enough, but I'm not giving up.
I'm still migrainy. Nowhere near as bad as they were, but I've had almost zero days with zero pain and symptoms. They're just more livable, and I'm doing a lot more around them, and I'm only really losing maybe a day or two a week instead of only having a day or two a week. I've sold my cards in person more than once now, and my aunt and uncle are hiring me to do some stuff on their website that can be done whenever I'm physically able. I want to take one class in the fall back at school, but I'm not there yet. There's a whole lot of tests and a few doctors' appointments I need to make to hopefully get me to that point, but first I need health insurance.
I still don't have health insurance. On the phone yesterday with the iChip people makes me think I'm really, really close, but I would have said that months ago, too, so I don't want to get too excited. The adjuster from iChip had the exact same problems with the idiots at my last insurance company that I did (it took her EIGHT CALLS to find someone who could give her my policy number, something I was never able to get in writing), so that made me feel a little less crazy.
My car is still "in the shop." It's now done except for a tire, which wasn't the result of the accident (Chicago pothole(s) damaged the tire and wheel itself), so it's out of pocket, so I got a tire for half the price online that has to be shipped from Saturn or something. I'm borrowing my sister's car until I get my own back, which my sister just loves, but my parents are redoing their kitchen which somehow translates to also repaving their garage and outdoor parking space thing, so my sister's car needed a place to stay anyway, and parking is terrible around her summer sublet apartment in the now-cool South Loop.
She and I went to the Taste of Chicago yesterday and had a very nice time. It was as uncrowded as the Taste gets, and I think I was sufficiently distracted by food and being the Person With a Sense of Direction to ignore my persistent mid-grade migraine long enough to have fun. With two strips of tickets (a total of $16) and "Taste sizes" only (each booth offers one of their items as a smaller portion for 3-4 tickets), the two of us had:
My grandma turned 85 yesterday and this past weekend most of my maternal extended family converged on San Diego. That's where NBF is for the summer and I almost didn't see him at all because he is a big fat poo-head. My mom's sister hosted the whole thing (she lives there) and she's pretty fabulous. That side of the family is much easier to deal with in general, since they say what they mean and don't care how much money you make. On the other hand, my grandma can be pretty difficult, but also people have stopped being nice to her and about her. And my siblings were being total schmuck-heads to me in general. Let's just say it was a real test of my Newfound Positivity (thank you therapy...I'm not sure if I'm being sarcastic).
Speaking of therapy, big revelation this week: being less loud and/or obnoxious and/or "annoying*" and generally changing what I say and how I act to fit a situation isn't "giving in," it's more like being a teacher altering your methods until the students understand. My therapist is very good.
That should be enough for now. I need to get my ass back writing again in less than seven weeks.
*My sister thinks I'm annoying. All the time. She tells me so. All the time. It's swell.
Hell no. Out of the habit. Distracted. That's bad enough, but I'm not giving up.
I'm still migrainy. Nowhere near as bad as they were, but I've had almost zero days with zero pain and symptoms. They're just more livable, and I'm doing a lot more around them, and I'm only really losing maybe a day or two a week instead of only having a day or two a week. I've sold my cards in person more than once now, and my aunt and uncle are hiring me to do some stuff on their website that can be done whenever I'm physically able. I want to take one class in the fall back at school, but I'm not there yet. There's a whole lot of tests and a few doctors' appointments I need to make to hopefully get me to that point, but first I need health insurance.I still don't have health insurance. On the phone yesterday with the iChip people makes me think I'm really, really close, but I would have said that months ago, too, so I don't want to get too excited. The adjuster from iChip had the exact same problems with the idiots at my last insurance company that I did (it took her EIGHT CALLS to find someone who could give her my policy number, something I was never able to get in writing), so that made me feel a little less crazy.
My car is still "in the shop." It's now done except for a tire, which wasn't the result of the accident (Chicago pothole(s) damaged the tire and wheel itself), so it's out of pocket, so I got a tire for half the price online that has to be shipped from Saturn or something. I'm borrowing my sister's car until I get my own back, which my sister just loves, but my parents are redoing their kitchen which somehow translates to also repaving their garage and outdoor parking space thing, so my sister's car needed a place to stay anyway, and parking is terrible around her summer sublet apartment in the now-cool South Loop.
She and I went to the Taste of Chicago yesterday and had a very nice time. It was as uncrowded as the Taste gets, and I think I was sufficiently distracted by food and being the Person With a Sense of Direction to ignore my persistent mid-grade migraine long enough to have fun. With two strips of tickets (a total of $16) and "Taste sizes" only (each booth offers one of their items as a smaller portion for 3-4 tickets), the two of us had:- rib tips from Robinsons No. 1 Ribs
- cumin-dusted fries with mango chutney from Vermilion Latin-Indian Cuisine
- jerk chicken with red beans and rice from Vee-Vee's African Cuisine
- chocolate-dipped frozen baby banana from Aunt Diana's Candy Makers
- samosa from Arya Bhavan
- alcapurria (pork filled banana dumpling) from Sabor Latino
My grandma turned 85 yesterday and this past weekend most of my maternal extended family converged on San Diego. That's where NBF is for the summer and I almost didn't see him at all because he is a big fat poo-head. My mom's sister hosted the whole thing (she lives there) and she's pretty fabulous. That side of the family is much easier to deal with in general, since they say what they mean and don't care how much money you make. On the other hand, my grandma can be pretty difficult, but also people have stopped being nice to her and about her. And my siblings were being total schmuck-heads to me in general. Let's just say it was a real test of my Newfound Positivity (thank you therapy...I'm not sure if I'm being sarcastic).Speaking of therapy, big revelation this week: being less loud and/or obnoxious and/or "annoying*" and generally changing what I say and how I act to fit a situation isn't "giving in," it's more like being a teacher altering your methods until the students understand. My therapist is very good.
That should be enough for now. I need to get my ass back writing again in less than seven weeks.
*My sister thinks I'm annoying. All the time. She tells me so. All the time. It's swell.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
cutting remarks
While packing up on Sunday, my mother found a package of razor blades. She asked me why I had them in her subtly accusing tone.“You mean the ones for my matt knife?” I asked.
“I guess.”
“They’re for my matt knife. I use it for crafting, when I make cards and stuff.” Pause for effect. “And for cutting myself.”
Sometimes, I just have to fuck with her, and I made it immediately clear I was indeed fucking with her. I don’t cut myself. In fact, I can’t even listen to other people talk about cutting skin, for self-mutilation, surgery, or by accident. But my mom has absolutely no faith in my overall sanity or ability to function, and any time I give her even the slightest hint that I’m not 100%, she takes the chinks in my armor as proof of my inability. For a long time I thought all this was in my head. My mother still insists it’s all in my head, yet it’s swelling up now to conveniently coincide with her newly empty nest. I’m pretty sure the last time it was this bad was when my sister went off to college. But obviously, it’s me. God I wish she liked pets. She needs a pet. Or my sister. My sister is much better at handling my mom’s invasive need to be needed.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
you waited almost a week for THIS?
Things that need to suck it:
It's been a very long-seeming week, even though nothing particularly happened. I spent much of it writing my parody of Bartleby the Scrivener for my fiction class. Otherwise, I mostly just went to class, wrote other random crap so my head wouldn't explode, and then Friday night I went to open knitting at this yarn store by my school. That was good, forcing me out of my cave and meeting new people and such. Good for me. I deserve a cookie.
My sister called me last night to ask what she should do about my cousins' dog who just ate chocolate while she was babysitting them. Fortunately it was only a little chocolate and the dog was fine, but this was after she herself went to the emergency room earlier that day to get 12 stitches in her finger she sliced instead of an avocado. Earlier in the week, American Airlines canceled her flight and then lost her luggage for 5 days while she had to keep buying underwear and borrowing clothes.
I saw an infomercial for the Tattoo Factory and now I want one, and though I don't actually think I'll get one, if I did, I would want this artist.
- the internet
- school.
It's been a very long-seeming week, even though nothing particularly happened. I spent much of it writing my parody of Bartleby the Scrivener for my fiction class. Otherwise, I mostly just went to class, wrote other random crap so my head wouldn't explode, and then Friday night I went to open knitting at this yarn store by my school. That was good, forcing me out of my cave and meeting new people and such. Good for me. I deserve a cookie.My sister called me last night to ask what she should do about my cousins' dog who just ate chocolate while she was babysitting them. Fortunately it was only a little chocolate and the dog was fine, but this was after she herself went to the emergency room earlier that day to get 12 stitches in her finger she sliced instead of an avocado. Earlier in the week, American Airlines canceled her flight and then lost her luggage for 5 days while she had to keep buying underwear and borrowing clothes.
I saw an infomercial for the Tattoo Factory and now I want one, and though I don't actually think I'll get one, if I did, I would want this artist.I am very addicted to coffee again.
Enough procrastinating. I need to be writing these papers. They're only 3-6 pages long, but one requires research that I know must exist but I'm not finding. Want to write it for me?
Enough procrastinating. I need to be writing these papers. They're only 3-6 pages long, but one requires research that I know must exist but I'm not finding. Want to write it for me?
Friday, January 19, 2007
Lots of words without saying anything
I feel like whining. My body still hurts from yesterday's fall. The bruising on my knees is surprisingly minimal, but I seem to have pulled something in my back and my right arm and hand are distractingly sore.
Today I went laptop bag shopping with my mom and sister. I actually got them to come out to me, since I thought we'd have more luck at one of the many cute stores in my general area than we would out in the 'burbs.
We went to over a dozen different places and saw many fabulous bags, but my stupid computer is too big. I was running around with a measuring tape and a sinking heart. I love my computer. That is why I want to bring her with me to school and around in general to do my writing. But with the wide screen, there is nothing that will accommodate her. In the end, I thought I found something that would be big enough, and it certainly was long enough, but I wasn't even thinking about the width. I'm going to try to return it tomorrow (assuming I get up before I have to leave for my improv class) and actually bring my computer with me this time and shove it in bags to see. Maybe I should just go online, but I like to try bags on because I am a small person and sometimes they look silly on me. My sister suggested I use the school's computers and just carry around a flash drive, but I tend to like to write in my own random found spaces and I write significantly faster (and frequently better) on a computer than I do by hand. It's kind of like my musical instrument or piece of sports equipment. Yes! It is my tennis racket and it needs a case. I am not going to leave my racket at home and use the ones at the club.
I'm making headway on my alcoholism. I've been keeping my fridge stocked with quality beer and drinking about one a night at home alone. Right now I'm enjoying The Poet oatmeal stout. If I am lucky, the alcohol content will be enough to counteract my deep dark nap I took around 7 PM. Not the smartest move on my part. Sunday I have to be at work by 8 AM. Giant piece of poop. I can't be on this weird schedule of half-sleeping through the night then crashing late evening. And then school on Monday. What are the odds I actually make it to all of my classes this time? I've been very good with my improv classes, so I'm hoping that will carry over. No more hiding in my room and refusing to shower or leave. That is not one of the seven habits of highly effective people; it is one of the habits of useless depressed people. I want to be effective, not useless.
I Georged one of the steaks from my freezer tonight. It sucked. I need to figure out the practicalities of snacking and shopping for Healthy Annabell, now that I am trying to be healthy. You know, aside from that whole alcoholism thing.
May I please go to sleep now?
Today I went laptop bag shopping with my mom and sister. I actually got them to come out to me, since I thought we'd have more luck at one of the many cute stores in my general area than we would out in the 'burbs.
We went to over a dozen different places and saw many fabulous bags, but my stupid computer is too big. I was running around with a measuring tape and a sinking heart. I love my computer. That is why I want to bring her with me to school and around in general to do my writing. But with the wide screen, there is nothing that will accommodate her. In the end, I thought I found something that would be big enough, and it certainly was long enough, but I wasn't even thinking about the width. I'm going to try to return it tomorrow (assuming I get up before I have to leave for my improv class) and actually bring my computer with me this time and shove it in bags to see. Maybe I should just go online, but I like to try bags on because I am a small person and sometimes they look silly on me. My sister suggested I use the school's computers and just carry around a flash drive, but I tend to like to write in my own random found spaces and I write significantly faster (and frequently better) on a computer than I do by hand. It's kind of like my musical instrument or piece of sports equipment. Yes! It is my tennis racket and it needs a case. I am not going to leave my racket at home and use the ones at the club.I'm making headway on my alcoholism. I've been keeping my fridge stocked with quality beer and drinking about one a night at home alone. Right now I'm enjoying The Poet oatmeal stout. If I am lucky, the alcohol content will be enough to counteract my deep dark nap I took around 7 PM. Not the smartest move on my part. Sunday I have to be at work by 8 AM. Giant piece of poop. I can't be on this weird schedule of half-sleeping through the night then crashing late evening. And then school on Monday. What are the odds I actually make it to all of my classes this time? I've been very good with my improv classes, so I'm hoping that will carry over. No more hiding in my room and refusing to shower or leave. That is not one of the seven habits of highly effective people; it is one of the habits of useless depressed people. I want to be effective, not useless.
I Georged one of the steaks from my freezer tonight. It sucked. I need to figure out the practicalities of snacking and shopping for Healthy Annabell, now that I am trying to be healthy. You know, aside from that whole alcoholism thing.
May I please go to sleep now?
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