moiread: (hugz • sarah s.)
Well. That was a thing. It's done now and I'm not dead and that's about all I can say to recommend it.

From now on I should really trust my own instincts on what pain drugs to take before procedures instead of going with what the doctors recommend, because god damn it was not enough. Though I shouldn't ever have cause to Plan Better Next Time ever again, at least not for this particular procedure, because this is the last time I am ever doing this. If it fails, I am done. I am just done. That is what I kept saying the whole way to the hospital and home again, and to anyone who would listen. I am done.

This bit gets a little crass and graphic. )

Though actually, to be fair, the bedside manner at the women's clinic at the Riverside is quite wonderful, generally speaking. It is exactly what you would want at any other time.

My good things for today are:

1) There was a local beekeeper selling his honey in the lobby of the hospital, so I got to talk about honey and beekeeping with him while I waited for my ride to come. He was a lovely old man who has been running his bee farm for most of his adult life and he seemed really delighted to talk about it with someone who knew a little bit and was curious to know more. He had my two favourite honeys (clover and cinnamon-infused), so I bought a jar of each off him, along with some flavoured honey sticks that reminded me of Farthing Party in Montreal and walking through the MJT with Tim.

2) When I got home, I found a parcel waiting for me from my friend Harry. Inside were some really lovely red long-stemmed paper roses made from recycled processed elephant dung, because my friends are awesome and they know what will tickle me. Even though laughing hurts right now, I needed a laugh, and I got it, and it was worth it. The timing was pure wonderful kismet. Bless.

Going to take some more drugs and try to nap.
moiread: (GLEE • antidepressants.)
I guess I should update. It's at the point now where people have been sending me emails asking for proof of life and besides, it's something to do.

I had a triple infection before Christmas -- ear, sinus, lungs -- that turned into bronchitis and then pneumonia due to multiple doctors not taking me seriously. I seem to finally be infection-free as of last week (yes, really, it dragged on that long) but in other ways I'm still recovering. I have been unable to work or DJ or be social (even on Skype or similar, because of the holycraplungrestriction), so I've been playing a lot of Star Wars: The Old Republic. And writing, when I have the energy, which is something I haven't done in years. I suck less than I expected for being so out of practice, which was a wonderful surprise but is somehow also psyching me out. Part of me is afraid it's a fluke and that if I continue, I will start writing more accurately (as in worse) and be a failure. Because my brain is stupid. (We already knew this. I have the diagnoses to prove it!)

Of course, my recovery from sad 18th century convalescence is just in time for hormone-laden IUD attempt #3, which some of you may remember is the reason why I've been on crazy chemically-induced menopause for the last four months. After today, if all goes well, we continue the menopause for two months to give the IUD time to settle and then take me off the drugs and see what happens.

The IUD procedure is in a little less than four hours. I should be asleep, and I had been sleeping, but they gave me some drugs to take the night before and HOLY FUCK I AM IN PAIN NOW because of them. Whatever this "softening the cervix" is, it's excruciating, and it woke me up. Hard. Apparently these are the same drugs used as abortifacients early on in pregnancy and as an alternate labor-inducer later on, but I don't have contractions, just screaming cervical pain. I have been lying here in bed crying for the last hour, and we all know I have wicked pain tolerance so that should give you some idea. I managed to hobble around the apartment trying to find my emergency Oxy stash but I think I'm out. What swell fucking timing.

I wish I still had some pot and a working vaporizer. Right now I am willing to chance the seizure risk (if there even is one, since that neurologist has turned out to be pretty whack) just for some pain relief and some sleep.

Times like these, I wish I wasn't single. I am always the one taking care of everybody else, and just once I would like to be the one receiving pot scones for procedure pain instead of making them.

Maybe that can be my new benchmark for possible partners: Would you get out of bed at 4am to drive to my dealer and then come home and help me get high? If so, apply within. Include resume. Must like foreign cuisine, terrible/awesome sci-fi movies, and loud rambunctious sex.

God it hurts. I don't even want this. I'm only doing it because it's one more thing I can say I tried, and if it does happen to work, well, okay then. It will be useful. Not as useful as actually solving the problem, but good enough that I can live with it. I don't expect it to work, though, and frankly I find it cruel to ask me to go through this much pain and nonsense over and over with new inventive variations.

But what do I know? I'm just a stupid baby machine too young and naive to have grasped my real true purpose as a woman. Asking the medical community to please make my pain stop is just me being short-sighted! This will all be worth it later when I start popping out sprogs, I'm sure.

Not that I'm bitter or anything. I'm allowed a bit of melodrama right now.

I wish I could just say I've had enough and hit a stop button. Not in a suicide way, but just in a fed up with this stupid shit kind of way. I have developed as much strength of character as I need. These lessons have been very thorough. You can turn it off now. We're good. I promise.

Okay, I seem to have found a position that doesn't hurt as much. It's kind of a weird hunched-over one, which doesn't make sense to me anatomically, but I am not going to disbelieve so hard I pass it up. If I prop myself up with enough pillows, I can probably get some more sleep, and bad sleep is arguably better than no sleep at all.

I'm sorry my life is so depressing lately. But honestly, I put it here so that I don't have to keep dregging it up in my regular one-on-one social interactions. It lets me keep those more normal. It seems to work out. But I will try to post about things that are more awesome/funny/interesting soon.

PS: If you ever find the stop button, let me know.

Posted via LiveJournal app for Android.
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: (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: (giggle • kristin k.)
Somebody just sent me a certain fun toy from Venus Envy, my favourite local store for sex-related items. I have no idea who did it, since it came gift-wrapped with a gift receipt and with these sorts of online purchases, the return address is the store it was bought from. VERY CLEVER, YOU.

So whoever you are: Thank you!

I'm always playing Vibrator Fairy for my friends, but apart from Meg ([livejournal.com profile] chaedyn), the friend who bought me my very first sex toy when I was seventeen, nobody's ever played Vibrator Fairy for me before. I am very very amused.
moiread: (it's a funny story • camilla b.)
Chelle: Oh god I'm having sudden stabbing monster cramps.
Chelle: If I have to have the evil deathplague flu AND my jesusfuckingchrist period (AGAIN) at the same time, I may very well throw myself out my goddamn window.
Rose: You live on the ground floor.
Chelle: Hush. You weren't supposed to point that out.
Chelle: You're totally messing with my tantrum chi, here.
Rose: I'm sorry!
moiread: (zomg! • kate m.)
Oh my god, these people are my heroes. They sing dirty dirty ditties and they make me crack the hell up.

Totally NSFW but also totally AWESOME. )
moiread: (facepalm • famke j.)
And I mean that in several different ways.

From [livejournal.com profile] bitchgoddessdm, a NSFW story that made me laugh so hard I cried:

My, What A Big Pepper You Have )
moiread: (tampon • stock.)
Shani ([livejournal.com profile] scien), who is my friend and sister-in-arms for all things sexual health-related, has made a period post where those of us who are currently menstruating, or who have particularly crappy menstrual issues, or who just simply want to bitch about menstruation in general, may go and do so. It is a place to rant and use gruesomely descriptive adjectives and froth with the CAPSLOCK on and cuss and compare notes. You can even fill out a poll full of more gruesome descriptors, for lulz. ;D

The post is here. I certainly made use of it, and thought some of you might want to do the same. We can make it like an angry hate shrine to the great bleeding vaginal god in the sky.
moiread: (well then! • cate b.)
This subject has come up a few times over the last couple of days, so I thought I'd ruminate.

I post a lot of really TMI things, whether they be about my physical health or my mental health, and sometimes people wonder why. They are not the type of people to share information that personal with anyone except maybe a best friend, therapist, and/or doctor, so the idea that I do, and that I put it on the internet no less, is boggling to them. I understand that, wholeheartedly.

But for me, this is a really, really useful tool for both diagnostic and therapeutic purposes. Sometimes there are things I need to articulate to process, and doing so at what amounts to a blank page is usually a less problematic way of going about it than doing so in real-time with another person, since sometimes other people -- no matter how well-meaning -- can say exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time. (Which doesn't mean that I don't talk to people directly, because I certainly do, but maybe not for the deep-down working-stuff-out bits. It's usually better if I dump on them less and analyze by myself more.) Other times, I use the things I've written to track patterns -- depression cycles, ways of thinking, habits that impede instead of promote healthy behaviour, etc. The fact that I can go back to any given point over the last nine years and see where I was at with regards to just about anything is invaluable! The same goes for physical health, too, in that at any time I can go back and see exactly what I was experiencing on what dates -- symptoms, medications, procedures... Considering my list of health problems is pretty substantial, being able to keep track of it all in my head is absolutely impossible, so you can see it might be of some use to me.

BUT HEY. Now that that's out of the way, excuse me while I go talk about some TMI things in my next entry. You may not want to read it.

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Chelle

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