Waiting...

This thing, whatever it is, has made my daily life so surreal. And complicated.

I'm sitting here, waiting for the pain to start. Just waiting for the crippling pain to come, and I really can't do anything else. I've moved some things, made some preparations, because once it comes I won't be able to do anything at all...I can't look for a subbing job even though I desperately need the money, because who knows what condition I'm going to be in this week?

So I have to just sit and wait.

It hasn't started yet, and if it doesn't start tomorrow and it decides to start the 28th I may not be able to make it to my doctor's appointment, but I need to go because I need all of my many prescriptions renewed because my insurance no longer covers them under my old doctor.

I'm also out of the good pain pills my father gave me, and if he's out, too, I'm extraordinarily screwed.

Mick and Debra had their meeting with the child study team at Manny's school so we're all waiting for their call.

So I'm waiting.

Arthur's Christmas present last year was to be a Doctor Who-esque scarf that I never finished, so now that I'm going to see him Saturday and he's been complaining about his scarf-less-ness I'm trying to get it done, so I'm knitting while I'm waiting.

Did I mention I was waiting?

I'm already sore, and the whole deal has been making the fibromyalgia worse since it started, so I'm miserable, sore, knitting and waiting x 2.

Waiting sucks.

Another Day in Hell

The past few days have been brutal, and as such I'm terrified of the pain that's coming...since this thing changes with my cycle I know I've got a little over a week before it becomes excruciating again and there's nothing I can do about it...from now til then the discomfort's going to grow incrementally until the day comes when it's unbearable. Considering that it's been getting worse with every month that goes by and last month it was so bad I cried I'm really, really scared of what's coming.

I haven't heard from the GYN about my ultrasound results. Chances are that since the CT scan didn't show anything that the ultrasound won't show anything either, but it's still nerve-wracking-- especially since they wouldn't let me see the images during the test so I don't know what the doctor is looking at, I can't be sure there's nothing.

I keep going over the CT images, making sure there isn't anything that the doctors might have missed being too focused on my stomach and intestines, any blip of anything, but there's nothing there.

So then I think maybe the ultrasound got a different angle or something...but if there was a cyst or tumor the doctor would have called right away...but maybe he hasn't even seen it yet?

So then what's next after that? An MRI? Surgery is coming as long as these things keep coming up negative.

I don't know what to do. Do I keep applying for jobs? What if I get one? Can I handle it? How can I be reliable when I know I've got semi-random crippling pain several days a month?

So if I can't work, then what? Disability? That's barely enough to live on...how would I pay my bills? Medical, credit card?

And if I went on disability, would I still be able to write? Like if I open the new blog with ads, or by some miracle I get an agent interested in me?

I'm stressing myself out now. I'm going to go knit and pretend that I'm normal.

Do Not Touch the Baby

I played with the settings again today and so far I like it. Turns out, though, that I had commenting disabled unless people were members which is not what I wanted- I'm all for anonymous comments, especially considering the subject matter I veer into. I apologize to anybody who wanted to comment but couldn't because they weren't a member. My bad. 


So that's fixed. 


I've been taking a break from creating lately- besides this blog, I mean. I haven't been working on my novels, which you think I would considering I'm looking for agents (no new responses...) and I haven't been knitting, which you think I would considering I owe my brother a scarf for last Christmas and I have the materials to make 2 scarves for me- one to match my fingerless gloves and one to match my red coat. I haven't been tatting, either, and I owe my mother a pretty large doily from last Christmas. 


And my dad's birthday is coming up. Shit. 


I've also felt like drawing lately, which is unusual for me because I'm really bad at it. I had to take a drawing class for my degree so I've vastly improved but I still suck. I've been thinking about my style, which is basically teeny-tiny and very detailed, so I'm considering doing some teeny tiny little scenes about the size of stamps. I'm not one of those people that can write on rice, but what with sewing and embroidery I'm very comfortable working in a minuscule scale. For a while I was thinking about tatting tiny pieces for dollhouses...I still might one day. 


It is SO HOT here. According to the weather channel it's 95 degrees but feels like 107. I'm supposed to hang out with my buddy Four tomorrow, but goddamn it's supposed to be 101 degrees. Ick. I hate heat...so much so, in fact, I leave my windows open all winter.


Oh, Four. 


I'm friends with such amazing people I wonder why they bother with me. Four is a voice-over artist and comedian and a brilliant writer. One day I'm going to get to say I knew him when... He's pretty much the best friend I've ever had and I love him to bits. 


My parents, unfortunately, don't feel the same way. In fact, Four and I wanted to date for a while but my parents' reactions were awful and it was one of the worst times of my life as far as my relationship with them goes. My father, especially, is incredibly racist and proud of it and it breaks my heart. One of my parents' rationalizations for hating my relationship with Four and giving me such a hard time about it is that they're trying to protect me from "other people's reactions." 


I'm just going to say that after 10 years of hanging out with Four and being besties with him the only people who have EVER even given me a dirty look about it are my parents, so work out that logic. 


There was one time in my life where out in public, among strangers, I was given dirty looks and glares and stares was a few days after I came back from London a month before my 19th birthday. My nephew Manny (my brother Mick's son) was 3 months old at the time and my sister-in-law, Manny's mother Debra, and I went to the mall to finish up Christmas shopping. I was pushing Manny in a stroller, and Deb was walking beside me and you should have seen the looks. 


Stares. Anger. Fury. Disgust. People were looking at me like they wanted to run over and take Manny away from me. It was amazing. Debra and I were shocked. 


So I decided to play into it. At one point Deb was waiting in line to pay for something and I was standing with Manny a little bit away saying, "Manny, tell Aunt Debbie to hurry up, Mommy has to get home to do her algebra homework. Mommy doesn't want to work at McDonald's anymore. Tell her. Say 'Mommy needs to graduate so she can find a new job and meet a nice man to be my daddy. I wish I had a daddy.'" 


It was awesome. 


And can I just add, by the way, that if you see a little baby in the mall and it's not related to you, DON'T TOUCH IT? That was unbelievable. At one point I had to smack this guy's hand away. He talks to me for a second, "Oh, how old is he blah blah blah" and then he reaches into the stroller. So I say, "Please don't touch the baby." 


Then he reached in again! So I smacked his hand. "Do not touch the baby!"


AUGH. It's not your baby, people! Especially if you're out in public, who knows where your hands have been?! You could have herpes for all I know. Don't touch the baby. 


Like you always ask a dog's owner if you can pet the dog when you first meet them, to make sure the dog doesn't bite or have some kind of disease or is a seeing eye dog that shouldn't be bothered or what-have-you. Don't touch people's dogs, and don't touch the babies. 


You don't know what 5'2", 19-year-old, 130 lb. white girl is going to smack you for it. 


And if she does, you totally deserve it.