moiread: (CASTLE • tea time boys.)
I meant to start doing these every month but then I, uh, forgot. WOOPS. Also I am still looking for something simple and handy to do this for me so that I no longer have to do it by hand.

Here you go. )
moiread: (dude • stock.)
Soooo... Two and a half hours ago I randomly had an unexplained grand mal seizure while sitting outside with [livejournal.com profile] soirenoir & Co on their driveway. Was brought to the ER by ambulance because Rae is a smart First Aider. Now hanging out in Observation waiting on brain tests.

I totally intend to write about the experience, but for now I am too exhausted.

Hopefully they won't need to keep me overnight. I want to go home as soon as it's safe so that I can, at the very least, take a shower and change into my own clothes. (Although these rainbow sherbet undies Rae bought me, ASAP after I came around properly here at the hospital, are admittedly pretty fuckin' rad.)

So yeah. Not dead. Not dying. Do not appear to have scrambled too much of my brain, though there are some lingering word salad/word retrieval issues that are really annoying. (They don't seem to be happening here in text, mind you. BRAINS ARE SO COOL.) Evening else seems fine -- for a certain definition of fine, anyway -- so hopefully that one lingering thing will sort itself out soon.

Fingers crossed that it was a rare one-time thing and not a seizure disorder! Though I am seriously jealous that everyone else got to see me have a seizure but I didn't. :(
moiread: (Default)
I've been spending all of my free time with Rae ([livejournal.com profile] soire) at the hospital, or with the rest of the family, and coming home really wiped every day. I doubt this comes as a shock to anybody who knows me and my health problems, or who knows how tiring even a little bit of caregiver duty can be. But people keep acting surprised when I don't have the energy to do anything but sleep once I'm home.

They ask me, "Where have you been?"

"At the hospital," I reply. "You can follow my Twitter if you want to know what's going on, or just check the recaps when they get gathered up and posted to LJ every night."

And the conversations continue:

"Well, it just seems like you're having a rough time, is all."

Yes. My general health is not very good right now, and I'm also just getting over the flu. (Again. That was the second flu I've had in about the last month and a bit.) And people I care about aren't doing very well either. It's a rough time all around. But we're all doing our best. We're keeping our heads above water.

"Well, if you ever need to vent about what's going on, like when you come home from the hospital or whatever, to get stuff off your chest, I'm here!"

Well, thank you. But I am not angry or frustrated or depressed. I don't have anything to get off my chest. It's not that kind of thing. Stuff's going about as well as it can, and I'm happy to be there as often as I can manage it, doing whatever I can to help. This is not a burden. This is not a terrible trial under which I am struggling to cope. I want to be doing this and I am actively choosing to. These are the people I love. And beyond that, like with the medical details and all, the rest is not mine to share. So thank you, but no.

I get that the people saying this to me mean very well, and I am grateful that they care enough to approach me and try to offer something that they think might be helpful. But "talk to me, talk to me, talk to me!!!" is not helpful to me right now. It only makes me withdraw. Right now I don't have room for talking much, and little to talk about when I do. What is helpful to me right now is just patience. Patience and quiet. Give me room. Do not make demands of me, because having to tell you no makes me feel bad, and blatant grabs for my attention just make me shut down completely. Guilt-trips about how much you miss me when I responded to you just twelve hours ago are especially right out. Stuff is going on that is very important to me, and it's taking up all of my time, and everything else can wait. The stuff that can't is getting done too. I am okay. (Well. As okay as I ever am, I suppose.)

This is just how crises go. It too shall pass, and things will even out again. I'll be back before too long. So just wait, please.
moiread: (give me patience • liv t.)
So here's the sitrep:

Really bad flu, again, since last weekend. Rae ([livejournal.com profile] soirenoir) wound up back in the ER two days ago re: Crohn's, got re-admitted, and had emergency surgery this morning. (I spent yesterday there for moral support. The place is so full that they have canceled all elective surgeries until who-knows-when and the only bed they could find for her was in the plaster room where they lie people down to put casts on them.) I keep losing my voice and am hacking up giant chunks of semi-solid grey-green gunk, so chances are good I'm heading for a lung infection again like last time. My period started this morning after weeks of indecision, so now there's that hemorrhagic ridiculousness to handle for the next who-knows-how-long and in the meantime, on Monday I've got to call and book all those diagnostic tests my new gyno team wanted done as soon as I started bleeding again. More rushed ultrasounds and biopsies all next week, I suspect, and then immediately after the last one they intend to induce menopause. Previous experience with hormone treatments leads me to expect that'll be hell on wheels, but at least maybe it'll mean my period actually stops after a reasonable length of time and I don't wind up in the ER myself. (Where, of course, they will be unable to admit me; please see above and laugh along with me if you like.) Also on call for emergency childcare, day or night, I don't care, and am determined to make at least three meals that I can bring over. Though I might have to cook sitting in the walker, between the bleeding and the fact that my feet are shot because I've been too sick to go to physio all week.

If anybody knows when life intends to stop beating me in the face with a heavy brick and/or where I can go to acquire an android body, please let me know.

This is what's playing in my head today:


But hey. I could be in worse health, but I'm not. People could be dying, but they're not. ODSP could have fucked up my payment for this month and left me without rent money, but they didn't. I could be homeless, but I'm not. I could be relying on the food bank again, but I'm not. (Hell, I could be living in a place that doesn't have food banks, or that does but they're all the scary religious kind that refuse to serve people like me, but that's not the case.) We could have had a tornado too, but we didn't. I could have nothing good in my life, and no good people to support me, but that's not the case either.

It could be worse.
moiread: (facepalm • cate b.)
When you talk about having to learn to be "girly", and your friend tells you they don't get it because they think you're awesome the way you are, your first response should be to say thank you. Seriously. Two words. THANK YOU. Instead, you corrected him as if your original statement wasn't totally vague and went on about how it's not a want, it's a need, and psoriasis sucks, and makeup is hard, and yadda yadda. Seriously. Social fail. That was a compliment. Even small children know to say thank you. Be less touchy and more grateful, okay?

I think "Gratitude" should be my word-for-thought this month. I will work on it.

EDIT: Just learned how to sign it. Excellent. :D
moiread: (facepalm • famke j.)
Rob, Rae, and I were all lounging in the living room, enjoying the breeze coming in through the windows, sighing at the overtired manic hyperactive baby who lost all sense of proportional motor control like an hour ago. We are talking quietly, discussing the day...

The door jangles. In walks Rick, with his bike helmet and gloves still on. He looks over at us with this stricken expression and announces, "I was just chased home by a DUCK."

There's this moment of complete dead silence, while he just stands there staring at us wide-eyed, and then we all erupt into laughing so hard we can't breathe properly.

Profile

moiread: (Default)
Chelle

November 2015

S M T W T F S
1234567
891011121314
15161718192021
2223 2425262728
2930     

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 20th, 2017 09:41 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios