Tuesday, January 11, 2011
New Doctor...new start?
I've been having a really shitty couple of days.
The night, before last, I was up all night with chest pain- intense chest pains- pain that went into my back I couldn't move, couldn't think, because I was in SO much pain.
And yet, still didn't let Dave call 911.
I really thought I might just fucking die that night.
And still I would rather be in my own fucking bed than in a hospital.
Call me psycho- I don't care- I've been called WAY worse.
Luckily I'm still FUCKING HERE, Bitches!
If you know me, you know that I don't fear pain. EVER.
I don't feel pain like normal people.
I've had my insides OPEN for months! After my C-section with Violet. I had gauze stuffed into me every single day for three months.
Now that's fucking pain.
It was like being stabbed, every fucking damn day for months.
Fun times. Fun times.
Then again, this is coming from me, the same person who, when I was younger- would run into doorknobs with my FACE, just for the fuck of it. I didn't feel pain.
I see how strange this is now, that I'm older- not much wiser though.
I always felt- "alien" to say the least.
I have an appointment with brand new doctors- plural- today.
I'm just hoping they don't stick me in the hospital-especially since there's supposed to be a big snow storm tonight- weekends, bad weather are both the WORST time to be stuck in a hospital.
Another worry- that they don't listen to me.
They see how young I am and think I have to be making this shit up.
Even though it's documented.
This one REALLY pisses me off.
Especially once they hear I'm bipolar.
Then they just think I'm crazy!
I don't fear surgery, even though I DO fear hospitals.
I'm not scared of getting cut up, sliced, whatever you call it.
It's the fact that in the hospital- you can get sick with something else and way more severe. Like a horrible blood infection that tries to kill you not once, but twice.
Yeah...fun times...fun times.
I hope you realize I'm sarcastic...very very sarcastic. It's the center of my very being.
I just found out that people who have had open heart surgery- are called part of "The Zipper Club" because they have the most amazing, coolest scar ever, going down their chest.
I do have a "thing" for scars, if you could call it that.
I love scars. I do.
Now I'm waiting til I go to my appointment.
If they listen to me- that's a good sign.
If they dismiss me right way...very very bad sign. Very bad.
Who knows? Maybe they'll actually find out what's wrong...and FIX IT!
Be it through surgery and/or medication, I don't care- I just want to feel myself again- not tired all the time, not out of breath, not in pain.
I don't fear medication- meds are my friends :)
I guess I have high hopes.
Plus this whole experience is making me feel very depressed.
Totally- NOT FUCKING COOL!
I had a very strange dream- thanks to benadryl- that I was weighing myself and I weighed 250 lbs! I freaked...and then realize I had weighed myself with all this luggage. And when I weighed myself again without the luggage I weighed...87 lbs!
I'm guessing this dream means I have a lot of extra baggage-
And I'm not talking about my big ass!
hummm...like I needed a dream to fucking tell me that?!
Wish me luck!
Sorry this blog is all over the place- but that's what my mind is like- CHAOS! COMPLETE CHAOS!