3 Days In The Hospital

Three days in the hospital is just like three days in Vegas- you never know what day it is, random people are keeping you up to all hours of the night and you are always on some sort of cocktail- except without all the fun. With exactly NONE fun.

I’ve been fighting some form of funk since I returned from California and was on a plane filled with adults who don’t know how to cover their mouths when they cough (and apparently wash their damn hands but I’ll get to that) or sneeze. As the funk tends to do with me, it turned into a sinus infection eventually and I finally gave in and went to the dr for help when I could no longer sleep at night. Those pictures below in the eShakti skirt? I’m on day 3 of the antibiotics at that point.

Cut to day 5 around 1 in the afternoon when I am suddenly shaking with full body chills in a 69 degree house wearing jeans and a giant sweater and when I say shaking, I mean the teeth chattering type that suggest I have just been outside in the snow (we don’t have snow) in a t-shirt and shorts. That was followed rapidly by a wave of nausea and I thought of course, I’m doomed to repeat January’s lovely trick of coming off antibiotics and going right into the flu. I held it together long enough to process the images for the digi photo kids and then crawled underneath a down comforter (still wearing the jeans and sweater) and tried to get warm.

A little later the body aches came, as expected, but they were weird, wrong. If I tried to stand or walk everything hurt but if I laid down everything from the hips down and shoulders out tingled and felt dead like it was asleep. That’s when I started to get concerned that it wasn’t just the flu. My fever was 102.2 but I took some Motrin and drank all the fluids I could get down, thinking that it would pass. I also asked Twitter about Tamiflu since I wanted to die the last time I took it and I was really debating if it was worth going through it again.

A few hours later when my fever hadn’t really budged and neither had the numbness and tingling and we call my primary care (because of course it’s after hours by then) he sends us to the ER or Urgent Care but all Urgent Care’s are closed at this point. The ER is packed and I expect a long wait but we get called back for the initial trauma assessment before too long and that’s when things start to go all wonky. My heart rate is apparently out of control and I am instantly slapped on an EKG. The nurse starts asking somewhat leading questions that clue me into him thinking I’ve got meningitis and then he puts a mask on me which pretty much seals the deal there. I go back out to the waiting room, which is SUPER FUN in a mask (I could feel people wish the room was larger just so they could get away from me) and endure their stares.

They usher me into a room really quick and a very nonchalant doctor comes in and runs down what they are going to do to me: flu test, blood work, CT scan, urine sample and possibly spinal tap depending on how things go. The ran a bag of IV fluids through me at a rapid pace and did all the other tests, so I wasn’t surprised when the big tray came in the room and the nurse asked me if I had an epidural with my son. You know how epidurals aren’t fun with the giant scary needles while you are having contractions and all that? I WOULD DO 100 OF THOSE BEFORE A SPINAL TAP. The spinal tap itself wasn’t even that bad, at least there isn’t that popping in your ears but oh holy shit, your head essentially EXPLODES as soon as it’s over. I have been a migraine sufferer since age 12 and this is the worst head pain I have experienced in my life.

To counter they gave me morphine and zofran. Didn’t even make a dent and oh hey, I was now vomiting. So they gave me some other pain med and zofran again. All the vomit. I was dry heaving at one point. My heart rate that was a “concern” before was now spiking like crazy and they came in and told me I was being admitted. All my tests came back negative: no flu, no meningitis, clean urine, CT didn’t show anything crazy, blood-work shows elevated white cell count.

Finally go from ER to my room around 4am. I go through my extensive history with the nurse and then she gives me the morning round of pain med/zofran and what do you know, I start vomiting again. So I figure it must be the Zofran and ask for phenergan instead. Vomiting stops but it’s a special order from the pharmacy and has to be piggy backed onto my IV which means it takes like 4 hours to show up each time it’s ordered. I’m also given a shot in my stomach to counteract any blood clots from bed rest. A SHOT IN MY STOMACH. It came with a side of lecture about my weight and what the proper percentage of body fat is for a person so that’s always nice.

They take more blood (from the same vein as before because the other arm is tied up with my IV-ow) and order another CT scan. Why? You have one already. I’m wheeled down there anyway and they take another peek at my face and head. Then I’m sent over for an MRI of my lung to look for blood clots. My what for a what? Do what? The tech makes a few annoyed phone calls while I sit in a wheel chair, “I already paid out the $500 for this test”, only to discover it’s not for me, um okay. The confidence I has it. Then back upstairs for another urine sample.

It isn’t until around afternoon time that the diarrhea starts. I inform my nurse. I have it again. I inform my nurse again. The third time I have it, I ask if maybe they want a stool sample or something? Should we be doing something about this? They finally get a “hat” for that to happen in right about shift change. That’s also about the time they show up and announce I’m having an MRI. Like right then. So…you want to stick me, a woman with liquid guts into a tube that she has no control of or quick escape from for however long? I see this going very well.

We get down to MRI and the tech informs me the MRI is ONE HOUR LONG. I inform him I have liquid guts and I am concerned about my ability to complete the test. He makes a call, they decide to put me through it anyway. Y’all. I had to stop the test three times and that was with going to the bathroom twice before we started. The MRI ended up being almost TWO HOURS before I just couldn’t do it anymore and it wasn’t even done because he had to essentially start over every time we stopped.

I get back to my room and give them the stool sample. I spent every half hour-hour back in the bathroom all night long and then they showed up again at 7 am to take me for the rest of the MRI that I didn’t finish the night before, this part with the contrast dye. Somehow I make it through that with only one bathroom break (mainly because it was under 30 minutes) and I am sent back to my room. They take more blood.

A man shows up with a giant machine to ultrasound for the blood clot in my leg and when I look at him like he’s a martian he leaves the room for a while. When he comes back he tells me that he’s not doing the test because, well surprise surprise, it’s not for me. *sigh*

I just don’t even care anymore. I can’t eat anything but saltines (that I basically just suck on) yogurt and drink flat sprite or ginger-ale. Yet the menu they keep giving me isn’t an altered diet at all. I’m weak and exhausted and in the bathroom so much I have to request baby wipes. Happy Thanksgiving.

The stool sample doesn’t come back during this day at all. The dr says he’s pretty sure it’s ulcerative colitis and c diff even without it at this point and I’ve been given gut specific antibiotics.

I get a new night nurse this night and she changes everything. She asks me if anyone explained the side effects of all the individual meds they have been giving me. The answer is no. Pepcid? Adds to liquid guts. Naproxen? Adds. She informs me that if I am walking around I can refuse the daily shot in my stomach. I start refusing meds that are making the guts worse (WHY WOULD YOU GIVE THESE TO A C DIFF PATIENT?) I pace in my room so I can refuse the shot. She also tells me that the protocol is 2 days after liquid guts stop before release even though the dr said I would get out sooner. I cry.

After refusing meds, the guts slow down. (a bit)

The final day of my stay (HOORAY) I get physical therapy and have to walk the halls and do exercises with a physical therapist. Then the occupational therapist shows up while I’m brushing my teeth and I have to do more exercises with her. You know what really gets the guts a churnin? Exercise. *sigh* My room is on contact isolation so everyone has to wear gloves and plastic covering to deal with me. I feel like I have the plague.

The dr comes at lunch time and asks me some questions, confirms his diagnosis and then asks me if I can eat yogurt. I respond that I can so he tells me he’s going to let me go home and laughs when I tell him how excited I am to take a shower. He also informs me that my white cell count is now normal, which is one of the reasons he’s letting me go.

I stay until my next dose of antibiotics so I can keep on schedule and they can work up on discharge stuff while we wait. Willy and I watch Sixteen Candles while we wait. My day nurse laughs when I tell her I’ll walk instead of waiting for a wheelchair out.

I think that’s all of it…I’m probably missing some, wait. I know I’m missing some. Like the fact that the neuro consult they sent me is one I have been to before and absolutely CANNOT STAND. He’s horribly snotty with a terrible bedside manner and kept me waiting over an hour in an exam room for him once and didn’t understand why I was annoyed by that. He actually ARGUED WITH ME for being upset about it.

Random fact for you: alcohol doesn’t kill c diff, only bleach can breach its exterior shell, so Purell? Does absolutely dick to keep you from getting it. Hand washing like mad is really the only thing you can do on your person to try and prevent ingesting it. But of course it could be anywhere and you would have no idea. The night nurse who was free wheeling with info asked if I had recently been to a nursing home or to visit elderly relatives because that’s one of the most common ways they see it but nope. Lots of people have it in their gut already and will never have a problem with it, it’ll only show up when antibiotics kill all the good bacteria. In my case, my dr said that 1) the length of time I had been on them wasn’t long enough and 2) the type of antibiotic wasn’t strong enough. I also take probiotics everyday and increase them whenever I am on antibiotics.

Clorox wipes? Don’t contain bleach. They sell true bleach wipes but for medical settings. You should just make a bleach solution yourself.

The headache that happens after a spinal tap can last anywhere from 6 days to two weeks. The only OTC pain med that doesn’t aggravate c diff/colitis is acetaminophen which means you can take nothing that will actually help it go away. My head still hurts.

I have been following a BRATTY (bananas, rice, applesauce, toast, tea, yogurt) diet for 48 hours now. If I make it past the 2:30 mark without an episode maybe I’ll celebrate with something exciting tonight, like a sweet potato.


Last Thursday, I went to PT (physical therapy). I had no idea what to expect and reached out on Twitter with how I should dress. The greater consensus was work-out wear, which I don’t own, so I grabbed a pair of yoga pants on my way (and found out later they are see through when I bend over. *sigh*) and just wore a t-shirt and tennis shoes.

I filled out a lot of paperwork and then spent about 40 minutes with the director of the place answering questions and doing range of motions exercises before he determined the cause of all of my back pain and the burning sensations.

I have had a dislocated rib for however long and it was pinching and irritating the nerve that runs alongside it. I have NO IDEA how I dislocated it, or when, as he also told me my collarbone (did you know that is technically a rib?) neck and right hip were also out of alignment. He theorized that part of my problem is the fact that my upper back has absolutely no curve at all even though it’s supposed to, which puts strain on my spine and all connected bones. He also thought that my hip being out of alignment would cause the rest of my body to try and compensate to keep me level. Basically, I am a whacked out mess.

Of course, the interesting part about the hip and collarbone is that they have both been out of alignment for AT LEAST 15 years. I called that hip my baby hip because it visibly jutted so far out from the other one that I could carry a baby on it and always did/do. It also means that one leg of my pants drags the ground when the other doesn’t. The collarbone thing causes halter dresses to always wear funny on me and I always had to tighten bra straps higher on one side than the other. I was once getting fitted for a halter style bridesmaid dress and the tailor could not get the darts in the front to work right no matter how many pins she added. She called the head seamstress in who stood behind me and declared the problem was that I was crooked. She removed all the front pins, put two pins on one shoulder seam and it was suddenly perfect.

So while I’ve known I was crooked for a long ass time, I didn’t know there was anything I could do about it.

The therapist cracked my neck back into place, worked my collar bone back even with the other one (no easy feat) almost completely corrected my hip and popped my rib back in. It’s like magic. Crazy, loud, painful, magic. Of course the burning started up again over the weekend, so I’m not sure what is going to happen in therapy today but the collar bone and hip seem to have stayed in place.

I guess this is why people go to chiropractors, eh?

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fleas are the new locusts

I’m totally losing the battle with myself to remain somewhat positive and not be a total lead balloon because today I went to look for something in my car, for my husband (his Target RedCard incidentally because that’s MISSING), and was instantly attacked by FLEAS. FLEAS IN MY CAR BITING ME. And I did what any sane woman would do, I freaked out to my husband…I then walked into the garage and grabbed the flea powder, I covered the entirety of the interior of my car and then I walked inside and put that shit on twitter. Yes, yes, I did. I announced to the world that my car has been infested by fleas. Because isn’t that what you do when you are THOROUGHLY DISGUSTED by something in your life? You announce it to social media at large and see how many people are disgusted with you, disgusted by you, instantly stop following you or which spam accounts START following you?

I don’t even know where they came from! I drove my car yesterday. NO FLEAS.

Our dogs? NO FLEAS.

Our house? NO FLEAS.

Our yard? NO FLEAS.

The only thing I can possibly tie it to is that Sprog was hanging out in a park yesterday waiting for me to pick him up after school…maybe they got on him and he brought them into the car? They seem to be concentrated on the driver side and he drove home from the park. How fast do those blood sucking bastards even breed? Wait. Never mind…don’t tell me. I already can’t stop scratching and it was only a few moments and a few bites.

Welcome to my flea circus.

I wonder what trick I should teach them first?

this wasn’t part of our deal 2012

2011 aka the year of suck 10th anniversary edition is OVER, HOORAY!

So that means, of course, that all the crap that kept continually going wrong last year is also OVER, HOORAY! Or not. After yesterday, it’s a definite OR NOT. But let me back up a moment and fill y’all in on how things were going before I get to that bit. I haven’t really been posting much or tweeting much or FB’ing nearly at all and the reason for all of this? I have been sick since Christmas. No voice for over a week (even with vocal rest that my dr commanded) due to a sinus infection and acute laryngitis. The first few days were spent freezing my ass off in a 60 degree house underneath a down comforter and being fully dressed. Awful. No sleep. Horrible head and throat pain. Side effects from the anti-biotics include trying not to vomit for at least an hour a day, for 10 days. I will be done with them on the 12th-two days before my 37th b-day.

Then a week ago I was eating a soft taco for dinner when one of my teeth BROKE IN HALF. Yes. Fortunately I felt it happen and didn’t end up swallowing the tooth shard and also fortunate that it didn’t hurt. Even during the whole week I had to wait for a dental appt, I experienced no tooth pain…but ate soft foods for several days and only on one side of my mouth.

Yesterday was the dental appt.

I walked in at 12 figuring that something was going to happen with the tooth but not exactly sure of what. I also walked in FREAKED OUT because I haven’t been to a dentist in a ridiculous amount of years. I hate the drill, I hate the after pain (I got fillings last time with a different dentist and they did such a horrible job I couldn’t eat on one side of my mouth FOR MONTHS) I hate it all.

I left yesterday after 2 pm. OVER TWO HOURS being drilled on, having my tooth FILED, having a post CEMENTED INTO MY HEAD, having a root canal, GETTING MY GUMS LASERED and finally a temporary crown inserted. It was like a horror movie come to life. Have you ever had to smell your own flesh burning? OMG. The dentist was concerned at the amount my gums had grown into my tooth in the week since it broke and told me that she might have to cut that back. She also told me that it would be hugely sensitive and most likely painful even though I didn’t have any pain prior to walking in there so she shot me FULL UP on novocaine. 4 full syringes worth, I was numb TO MY EYE and yet I could still feel some of the gum work, they were that sensitive.

After all that work? I was given NO MEDS to manage pain. She told me to load up on Advil as soon as I got home and not wait for the pain to actually kick all the way in as by then it would be too late. Fortunately for me, I had some 800 mg motrin at home but even with that, I still feel my gums THROBBING in my head. My mouth was hugely swollen until almost 8 last night and even this morning my gums are still throbbing and swollen and tender.


Oh and I have a freaking colonoscopy scheduled for the 17th but you can’t have taken any pain meds for 5 days prior which would be the 12th. I HIGHLY DOUBT my face is going to stop hurting in two days.

$500 with insurance (have to meet this year’s deductible)


pray for those kids “a little bit”

Before the scandal broke, I knew nothing of Penn State. I had no idea who Joe Paterno was and I honestly didn’t care. I am not a football fan, I will never be a football fan. This morning I saw Joe Paterno say “pray for those kids a little bit” and I wanted to crawl through my screen and punch an old man smooth in the face. Pray for those kids A LOT.

When they then interviewed some crazed fan who was pissed that he was ousted “before he was ready” I actually screamed in the privacy of my bedroom. How about the boys that had their innocence taken from them? Learned lessons about fucked up people in life way beyond their reach? How about them? BEFORE THEY WERE READY, indeed. I am so fucking angry. SO ANGRY.

I have been disgusted and horrified as this whole thing has played out but I have also largely stayed away from it. I haven’t read the court records because the little bit that has come through my twitter feed is enough information for me. I know how those kids could be failed. I KNOW. While I am disgusted and horrified, I am also not exactly shocked. I know what it was like when I reported my own molestation, when I went through my own testifying. How I had to DO IT MYSELF. How my fucking mother told me about my father going after my babysitter. How she saw the bruises on us but did NOTHING. When I was later raped and didn’t bother reporting it…what that was all like. I know. I know how hard it is to be a victim in our system. How hard it is to hope that anyone is going to help you and blame yourself when they don’t and I know how long those scars stay with you.

I know the life long damage that fucking rat bastard has inflicted on all those boys. ALL THOSE BASTARDS have inflicted. How every person that put their own gain, their own fear, their own delusion in front of helping those boys have inflicted yet more pain and more suffering.

I know that seeing this all play out and watching these idiots on tv ROOTING FOR THE BAD GUYS is inflicting still more. I know that seeing celebrities like Ashton Kutcher open their idiotic mouths and share in the damnation of these kids? I know that is yet another scar, yet another wound. Teaching the victims that standing up for what is right is going to be met with aspersions, riots and support for the predators? More negative language in their own heads that they have to fight to overcome again.

And all for what? Fame? Football? Money? Because the innocence of youth, something you can never EVER get again is a fair price? Ruining countless lives is a fair price?

Every child deserves the wonder of being a child. Every child deserves the feeling of being SAFE. Every child deserves the feeling of being PROTECTED. Of being FREE. Every child deserves a HERO.

My son knows what happened to me and I hate that. I hate that he has to know that there are even people out there that could do such things. I hate that his own rose colored glasses view of the world has to be damaged. I hate that there is such evil lurking but I will be damned if I am going to allow it to actually touch one hair on his head and not do anything about it. Or to touch the head of anyone in my presence kid or no and not do anything about it.

and then he shook his fist at me…

It’s FINALLY winter in Houston. Last night was 29 degrees and it’s currently 34 outside, which means it’s time for the hubs and I to have our annual winter thermostat wars. You may have seen my call for your winter thermostat setting on twitter last night. When I put that post out there, he made sure to specify that I not sway y’all in anyway with any further information, just put a poll out to see what y’all keep things set at, he also wants me to supply him with not just an average but a mean and mode as well. HOLY HELL.

Listen. My husband is a freaking REPTILE. Cold is not his friend at all. Last night’s little dispute included a tirade wherein he informed me that he’s a homeowner who is not homeless (obvs) who should have a nice cozy warm house, not be freezing cold in his own house (shaky fist optional). People, our thermostat had just turned down to 66 and we have a DOWN FREAKING COMFORTER ON OUR BED. DOWN. He bundles up when we have the house at 68 and grumbles about it. Meanwhile, I am nearly sweating my ass off at night trying to sleep. Last night I kicked the comforter off all together and slept under the sheet only. I want it COLD when I sleep and then bundle under a heavy comforter, not warm and toasty AND under a comforter of toasty warmth. UGH.

We also argue over ceiling fans (him off, me on full blast) he has a woobie for the couch that is a faux shearling and today he wished we had a newer laptop so he could work from home in front of the fire. I am of the mind that you can always put more on but there is a point where you just can’t take any more off and I would rather be in a sweat shirt or under a cozy blanket than sweat. I hate sweating. Ick.

if you don’t have anything nice to say, disappear from the internets

apparently. At least that’s what I’ve pretty much done when it comes to the blog. We went to San Antonio over the weekend to cheer my cousin on at the Rock N Roll Marathon (and try to spot Jen, which sadly didn’t happen) and I have felt like ass ever since we came home. Every day is a new exercise in something making me cranky as all get out and I have been hella busy trying to get stuff done for the Etsy shop. I should also be getting things done around the house, hello pit of despair, but maybe this weekend. It seems that when cranky and headachy, I can only deal with so much….

Speaking of, I saw my mother yesterday. My birth mother, the one I haven’t laid eyes upon in what, 15 years now? This whole family business has had me on edge since the get but I tried to put it aside because from what my Aunt told me, they really didn’t have much contact with her, then yesterday I am looking through my second cousin’s SYTYCD album (yes, she went to their traveling road show thing) and all the sudden my heart hits my stomach. Oh, hello maternal unit. UGH. Of course she wasn’t tagged in the picture (and so far, doesn’t have a facebook) but given my reaction I knew it was her. The years of drinking and spending all her time in casinos has not, shall we say, been kind, so she looks quite a bit different but later my second cousin wrote in her name (with incorrect spelling btw) so it’s confirmed.

Now I have this

in my head. *sigh*

ah, the highs of parenthood, always so short-lived

So we got Sprog’s report card over the weekend. Can we just say, not pretty?

I don’t know how to deal with this shit y’all. I am all out of ideas. No amount of reward or punishment seems to work. Every grading period is a new battle ground and I am so fucking tired. He is a brilliant child, not in a blowing smoke, sunshine and rainbows up your ass kind of way, but truly he’s brilliant and yet, he’s the laziest-least motivated kid I have ever met in my life. He wants to go into animation, he WANTS to be an animator, work on video games, develop them and such? HE’S FAILING ANIMATION.

The mind, it fucking boggles, you know? What do you do with that? What do you do with a kid who fails at the thing he WANTS TO DO? It doesn’t have any home work, so it’s ALL AT SCHOOL! He has a F in WORLD HISTORY! WORLD HISTORY! The one taught by coaches and is nothing but fucking worksheets. It’s a joke. Yet, there he goes. And yet, geometry? B! Chemistry? High C! English II? A! WHAT THE FUCK? The hard shit? Passing with no problem. The easy shit or the shit that he supposedly actually cares about? Failure of epic proportions.

Sorry for all the cussing…I just am so frustrated I could scream. You know he can’t get his learner’s permit until he passes. He has been 15 since last school year and still not a full passing report card. Can you believe it? I can’t.

I want to cry.

fyi: you’re rude

Today I was going to post a list of things I can’t do/don’t do well/do weirdly but instead I am starting the day riled up and ticked off and unfortunately y’all are reaping the benefits of that situation.

He who shall not be named #1 whispering in someone’s ear the moment people walk in the room? Freaking rude. It didn’t go unnoticed. P.S. Doing it again later in someone else’s ear? Just added insult to injury. If you have something to say, man up and effing say it or hold it and say it later when we are gone.

He who shall not be named #2 it is possible to give someone a compliment without insulting someone else at the same time. You need to think about what the hell you are saying, unless of course you intended your dig, in which case, fuck off. I mean that sincerely. If you meant that dig, you are clearly a delusional asshole.

Anyone else rude that I need to add to my shit list today? I’m pissed.