It's not even right. Let's see...vomited so much from Tuesday through Thursday that I had to be hospitalized Thursday night. Saw Dr. McGillvary at Prompt Med an immediate care center. (I love her and if she ever goes anywhere, I'm going to try and get her in a heartbeat!) and she pretty much had me admitted Thursday night due to severe dehydration. I lost 6lbs in 4 days. You don't just do that unless you've lost water. A metric fuckload in other words. Though pretty much the doctor on call Thursday is on my shitlist, because she was on call, she took over my care to speak...and I honestly think I was released way too soon. I spent most of yesterday and today puking my guts up. I'm getting a little relief now. And that's pretty much thanks to my green friend. And Dr. Porter, who I saw at walk in this morning. I've been taking the medicine (I throw up everything that goes into my stomach, ugh) and he gave me sublingual (under the tongue) medicine to help with stomach pain and a compazine suppository to MAYBE help with the fucking constant vomiting. And when I say constant, omg. It's been insane!
I have an appointment my Dr. in 2 weeks. Fucking A. Honestly, if I'm not seeing some real help this time, I'm leaving her and going to either, the doctor Dad goes to...or leave Sandcreat entirely and try and find somewhere that will take my fucking insurance.
I'm really, really hoping and praying to God that I will feel so much better by tommorrow. It's Halloween, damnit! I want to go out with my kid. :(
Every single medication I've taken at home...has not worked on my vomiting in the slightest. In the hospital, they gave me Zofran. THAT shit works, but guess what my insurance doesn't cover it-unless I'm actually hospitalized. Phenergan doesn't work. I believe I threw up more after I got the shot today from the Dr that was supposed to stop it and the compazine doesn't work (though I'm taking it because I don't think it's hurting me)
Guess how many bong hits it took for my stomach to feel miles better, enough for me to eat a half a can of chicken noodle soup (mostly broth)?
Three.
How fucked up is that?
Oh, and add this to the list of shit that can only happen to me. I was taking a walk LAST Saturday, and reading my book (yes, I walk and read at the same time). This is a slow neighborhood. Not exactly watching where I'm going. All of a sudden, this 9-10 year old boy comes barreling around on a bicycle. Not exactly watching where HE'S going. You see where this is going?
Kaboom. I'm flat back on the sidewalk, slamming my head and upper back in the process. The kid lands on me, so he's fine. I, on the other hand, am still having a residual headache and massive upper back pain. The joys of getting older. Fuck. I pass out for a few seconds though because one minute I'm on the ground with the kid on top of me and the next second the kid is beside me screaming, "LADY, HEY LADY, WAKE UP! ARE YOU OKAY? LADY WAKE UP!" and my first words, "You okay, bud?" He was. I'm glad the kid is okay though. I couldn't have stood the guilt had he hurt himself too. Little fucker, however, landed on me. He was able to avoid getting hurt by landing on my squishy ass.
Went to the ER Saturday night because I thought there was a chance I was concussed, but I wasn't. Woke up Sunday morning with agony in my upper back. Agony. So I go to Prompt Med. Dr. Lovins is there (WTF? Seems everyone who quits Sandcrest ends up at PromptMed). Well, she gives me 21 Soma (muscle relaxer) and forty vicodin. I'm like 0_o. Yeah, have never been given quite that much before. I didn't even get close to taking all of it.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
I must admit, Veggie, you are right.
I had a strange obsession with owning a snuggie. I love blankets, and I think, a blanket with sleeves, perfect! I'm not over the age of 65 yet so I will not be wearing the thing in public. Ever. People my age and younger do this, and as much as I thought this was going to be the coolest invention ever made, I do not think the snuggie look is stylin for the ages of 13-65. They should be forbidden public wear for those age groups.
So a week ago, I buy one. I go to CVS and bought the one that donates money to breast cancer research. That would be the only positive part of the Snuggie experience. It was bright cotton candy pink Snuggie with a pocket. I'm over the moon.
Until I get the fucker home and I realize something. Snuggies are not for short people. I am a short person. 5'3" and a clumsy mc'klutz even when I don't try to move with a 6 foot blanket in my path because I do forget to pick the fucker up. I'm glad that my superpower is that I do not trip. My elementary school was a combat zone. I had to train my brain to never trip. Not that the snotnosed fuckers wouldn't try. I'm clumsy, I drop shit and bump into shit, bump into people. I will never be comfortable in a china shop. But I do not trip.
After the age of 65, I'm going to aspire to the wear the most loud, ridiculous, bedazzled crazy cat lady clothes. Because if you live to be so old, you should be able to say and wear and do whatever the fuck you want. I don't think I'd ever be obnoxious to someone who isn't obnoxious to me, but after that age (except in extreme cases of pissing me off, then I'll let you know now) I will let you know exactly how much you suck as a human being.
The Snuggie has become my most expensive cat blanket. Jinxie loves it.
She loves Scott and will claim his lap when he gets home. But I've been going for walks lately, and Scott tells me that Jinxie will wait by the back door and cry the entire time I'm gone. We call her puppycat because she will follow me everywhere and she feels she must at least go into every room I'm in. I haven't been to the bathroom by myself in years. I have never had or met a cat that is so much a baby. And it's so funny. Every once in a while when I let her go outside with me (which isn't very often) and when she gets the urge to leave the yard (even rarer still), the timing of the cars around here is brilliant. Because she forgets that now when she goes into the backyard, she's going to see those big scary things that make big noise move, and she'll flatten on the ground, look back at me and cry, then when I'll pick her up she'll cling to my shoulder. She'll forget about being brave for while.
I'm convinced this cat is made entirely out of sunshine, cuddles, kisses and love.
So a week ago, I buy one. I go to CVS and bought the one that donates money to breast cancer research. That would be the only positive part of the Snuggie experience. It was bright cotton candy pink Snuggie with a pocket. I'm over the moon.
Until I get the fucker home and I realize something. Snuggies are not for short people. I am a short person. 5'3" and a clumsy mc'klutz even when I don't try to move with a 6 foot blanket in my path because I do forget to pick the fucker up. I'm glad that my superpower is that I do not trip. My elementary school was a combat zone. I had to train my brain to never trip. Not that the snotnosed fuckers wouldn't try. I'm clumsy, I drop shit and bump into shit, bump into people. I will never be comfortable in a china shop. But I do not trip.
After the age of 65, I'm going to aspire to the wear the most loud, ridiculous, bedazzled crazy cat lady clothes. Because if you live to be so old, you should be able to say and wear and do whatever the fuck you want. I don't think I'd ever be obnoxious to someone who isn't obnoxious to me, but after that age (except in extreme cases of pissing me off, then I'll let you know now) I will let you know exactly how much you suck as a human being.
The Snuggie has become my most expensive cat blanket. Jinxie loves it.
She loves Scott and will claim his lap when he gets home. But I've been going for walks lately, and Scott tells me that Jinxie will wait by the back door and cry the entire time I'm gone. We call her puppycat because she will follow me everywhere and she feels she must at least go into every room I'm in. I haven't been to the bathroom by myself in years. I have never had or met a cat that is so much a baby. And it's so funny. Every once in a while when I let her go outside with me (which isn't very often) and when she gets the urge to leave the yard (even rarer still), the timing of the cars around here is brilliant. Because she forgets that now when she goes into the backyard, she's going to see those big scary things that make big noise move, and she'll flatten on the ground, look back at me and cry, then when I'll pick her up she'll cling to my shoulder. She'll forget about being brave for while.
I'm convinced this cat is made entirely out of sunshine, cuddles, kisses and love.
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