Category Archives: your health is your wealth and this is why I’m poor

June 12, 2014

Ants Bite and Some Other Stuff

By Steph

We had to take Thing 3 to have another set of blessed ear tubes put in again to give her some relief from the blasted recurrent ear infections.  Since we live 10 miles outside of Timbuktu, we had quite a drive ahead of us and decided to throw in some family time and make the dreaded trip into a mini-vacay.

We figured the kid wouldn’t remember the tubes, but she might remember that Mommy and Daddy took her to the zoo.

Except we didn’t even make it to the zoo.  (Probably a good thing, since animals are all perverts.) (Or maybe I’m the pervert.  Either way.)

Here are a few things I learned on our way — our long, long way filled with constant chatter from one or all three kids.

1.  Thing 2’s rendition of the Rice Krispies commercial was a bit disconcerting, since he fucked it up horribly.

“What?” he says over our laughter. “It’s crack, smack, Snapple, and pop, right?”

Um….no.  Also, are you on drugs?

ricekrispies.com

ricekrispies.com

2. Thing 3 is 5 years old and is turning into a smartass.  I believe she gets it from her father.

Thing 3:  *Rolls her eyes and sighs* What-EVER!

Thing 2:  Oh no, you’re turning into a woman!

Thing 3:  Your mom’s a woman.

So, my five-year-old is making “your mom” jokes, and I consider that a parenting win.  Even though technically I think I was just insulted.

3. When we finally reached our destination, we headed directly for the pool.  The kids and the husband swam while I found the cutest little patio area outside in the sun to smoke and read the paper.  I discovered that I love sitting quietly while my kids are entertained by something that is not me and is free swimming.

This Is How It's Done.

This Is How It’s Done.

4.  After the pool we had plans for the zoo, but as usual, my body betrayed me and we decided to rest and go to an arcade instead.  The kids had great fun blowing my money, and I found out that Thing 3 thinks I am “the best mommy she’s got” because I drive “TURBO fast” in the go-kart.  Hold your applause; we were the only ones on the track.

Getting ready to tear it up on some go-karts.

Getting ready to tear it up on some go-karts.

5. Then I learned that my gallbladder/heart/liver/something on my insides really does hate me and I almost had to go to the ER because I really know how to ruin have a good time.  I was up most of the night moaning in the bathtub because I felt like an invisible murderous asshole was stabbing me in the stomach.  Luckily for him he was invisible and possibly imaginary.

5.  I learned that I am able to drive a wheelchair about as well as a car, and by that I mean not well at all.  I ran into two people, a bed, a door, and a couple of walls before the wheelchair was confiscated.

6.  The term “ants in your pants” is very apt.  This actually happens and really does cause jiggling, jumping, and general insanity while you are being bitten.  On the ass.  In a parking lot.  I’m sure there is film somewhere of me frantically slapping my own ass and screaming bloody murder.

peppysdevelopments.wordpress.com

peppysdevelopments.wordpress.com

7.  Ant bites are huge.  I have one for each cheek, so I should know.

8.  I can catch a child’s milkshake vomit in a Wal-Mart sack with a hole in it while driving down the road and not spill any. Yes, I’d like a medal.

9.  My oldest child is an angel and will make someone very lucky one day.  (I actually already knew this one.)  We got home and that kid ordered me to bed, brought me a fan and a washcloth, and helped get the other kids settled.  He’s also adorable and a genius, but calm down ladies, he’s only 15.

10.  If you go to the doctor and check every box that says, “nearly every day” on their little questionnaire and then burst into tears, they are much nicer to you than usual. Today I went to the doctor and had a total meltdown.  And that was before they did an EKG “just to rule out heart problems” and the bastard came back “abnormal.”  Of fucking course it did.  Have I mentioned that my body hates me?

11.  If you have plans for the weekend in spite of the fact that you know you should rest, your doctor will schedule an abundance of tests for Saturday, on just about every internal organ you have.  Then the following week can be spent at cardiologists, gastroenterologists, psychiatrists, and other places well known for fun and games.

12.  If you leave town for two days, your renters might take that as the perfect opportunity to leave town themselves, only they might take all their stuff and not leave any rent money.  Anyone interested in a two bedroom in Timbuktu?

 

20 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , | posted in nature hates me, parenting, random bullshit, shit my family says, small humans, total chaos, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

June 8, 2014

Bugs Are Giant Assholes.

By Steph

Ticks are dicks.  Seriously.

Commonly known as the Vampire Asshat of the insect world, ticks feed off the blood of their innocent victims.  If you are not lucky enough to live in an environment where ticks, chiggers, snakes, and other horrible slithery-crawly things abound, let me give you a visual.

Actual size may vary.  Generally the size of a freckle, not a baseball as depicted above.

This guy is the neighbor who comes over uninvited, unannounced, irritates your pets, and makes you uncomfortable and twitchy.  This little creep latches on and sucks your blood.  Hello?  How is that not a vampire?  It is.  Just because it doesn’t sparkle is no reason to write off this tiny killer.

I’ve bitched written about my allergy to meat before.  Well, this is the little bastard that caused the allergy:

viracor.com

viracor.com

The Lone Star Tick.  The cruelest and most evil insect of them all.  The one that turns you…VEGAN.  *gasp*  *pause for shock and awe*  *nods head wisely but with visible sadness.*  *looks stoic and perhaps a bit romantic*

Right?!  This shit is just effing ridiculous.  (That may be the first time I’ve ever typed effing.  It doesn’t feel right.)

But I digress.  Here are the facts about this bitch ass tick who stole my steak:

1.  Little motherfuckers are found everywhere.  It is all over the US and in Australia and other countries where ticks are known to live.  My yard is a popular gathering place for ticks.  I believe it may be the Cabo of creepy things I’d rather live without.

2.  Everyone who gets bit by a Lone Star tick is not gong to get this allergy.  And it comes in different levels, kind of.  Because I have always been an overachiever, I am not fucking around with this allergy.  If I have to be allergic to mammals, I’m taking that shit all the way.  Ye-ah, I will WIN at allergies.  Yep.

3.  The allergy is Alpha-Gal IgE — it’s a reaction to a sugar-protein called Galactose-alpha-1,3-galactose.  Some people have struggled with it for over 20 years, but research has only been done on this allergy for about the last 5 years.  (Basically, no one knows shit yet, except keep Benadryl and an Epi-Pen handy so you won’t die.)  Alpha-Gal.org has what little information there is on this allergy.

4.  The AG allergy made me allergic to anything that comes from a mammal, including milk and animal byproducts which are in EVERYTHING.  Yes, I am aware of how insane that sounds.  No, I am not making it up.

5.  Basically at this point the only things I can eat safely are fresh fruits and vegetables, along with chicken, turkey, and fish.  (I hate fish.)  (It’s growing on me.)

So, all this from a fucking tick?  The researchers think so.  Not many doctors even know about this yet, so it was hard to get the diagnosis until my blood tests came back positive for beef and pork allergies.

My doctor looked me square in the face after I described an allergic reaction with trouble breathing (anaphylaxis) and asked me if I knew that sometimes a “hard poop can make you break a sweat and feel like something is wrong.”

Oh no he didn’t.  (Yes, he actually did.  Fucker.)  I guess at 34 I know the difference between taking a shit and not being able to breathe.

Some days I handle it better than others.  Some doctors say it will go away in time (my allergist said possibly 5 to 7 years without any new bites) but some say it won’t.  I just got three new bites this weekend, while wearing bug spray and walking in a yard that had been treated for ticks.

And, I just realized, like right this second, that humans are mammals too so there goes any chance of survival if I were ever in some sort of situation where I had to eat a person to live.  Fuck.

Do you have any weird allergies?  Has your doctor ever treated you like you were a fucking five-year-old?  Do you think you could handle a diet like mine, or are you already a super healthy eater without being forced into it?  What are your thoughts on cannibalism?  (J/K, please don’t eat anybody.)

56 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in Just Being Awesome, nature hates me, random bullshit, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

May 20, 2014

Pt. 1: Is This Really My Life? Pt. 2: Yes. And that’s okay.

By Steph

I wrote part of this yesterday and was so ashamed of it that I password protected the draft.

Last night was a better night; my kids have an amazing ability to  cut straight through to my core and remind me how love feels.  I guess they pull me out of my own head, and I need that, cause my head is not always nice to me.

I wrote the second part this morning.  I am hoping that by sharing this post, maybe someone who is in the dark might see how quickly the clouds can pass. Alternately, I hope that those of you who do not suffer from depression and anxiety may get a little bit better understanding of the intensity of feeling, the fear, the anger, and the self-disgust that some of us deal with all too often.

bfmh14-copy-e1388959797718

*** MILD TRIGGER WARNING — TALK OF SUICIDE***

Alternate title:  I’m fucking broken. 

I think that it is Mental Health Awareness month.  Or maybe it’s Fibromyalgia Awareness Month.  Or maybe it’s none of those things and I am just behind on my months the way I’m behind on everything else in life.  Who knows.

Anyway.  Things are not good in the brain here lately.  I’ve noticed that a lot of the bloggers I follow seem similarly out of order.  Seems like a good time for a Canvas of the Minds post, even though my head is telling me that it will be stupid, it won’t help me or anyone else, and I should probably just stop writing altogether.  Fuck you, head.  We are obviously not on the same team right now, so you can just shut up.

Without further ado, I present a day in the life of me, my chronic pain, depression, anxiety, and potty mouth.

Monday, May 19, 2014

6:06 a.m.  Wake up.  Hobble to living room.  Want to cry because everything hurts and there’s no coffee.  Make coffee.  Wake up kids.  Take meds.  Realize that because I was sick yesterday I did not take my meds and now today is going to suck really badly.  Realize that because I was sick yesterday I did not do any laundry and this morning is going to suck badly.  Try to find clothes for children.  SUCCESS! Kind of.  At least they are not naked.  Comb daughter’s hair even though it hurts and I can hardly hold the comb.  Get hugs.  Realize that because I was sick yesterday we did not do her project and I am a failure.  Write note to teacher that likely does not even make sense.  Realize that teacher probably already knows that I am a fuckup and send note even though it doesn’t make sense.  Realize that I don’t have any cash, so kids have no lunch money.  Think about all the things I had planned on doing yesterday and feel like a failure because I was sick and didn’t do any of them.

7:00 a.m.  Everyone leaves.  Drink coffee, smoke cigarette, curse at self.  Think about what I need to do today.  Get overwhelmed and cry.  Try to get someone to take lunch money to kids.  Get irrationally angry at doctor’s office for making me get up to answer an automated message.  Pee about 15 times.  Hold head in hands.  Stare at wall.  Feed cat.  Play Candy Crush. Watch video on Facebook that makes me cry.  Go outside, sit in shade, think that I should spend more time in the sun.  Go inside.

8:00 a.m. Check email, various messages, read blogs, prepare for phone call.  Do some other stuff which I can’t remember but I’m sure I did.

9:00 a.m.  Make stressful phone call.  Shake so hard I almost drop phone.  Cry.  Decide I should lay back down because everything hurts and I am sad.  Lay down.  Everything still hurts and I am still sad.  Clench teeth and try to go to sleep.  Get up because I have to pee.  Again.  Lay down under electric blanket even though I’m hot.  Cry.  Feel nauseous and worried.  Think about a million things that I should not think about if I want to fall asleep.  Bills, kids, failure, bad mother, bad mother, bad wife, bad person, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.  Pee again.  Curse at self because I can’t even sleep right.

10:30 a.m.  Get up.  Make more coffee.  Put on bra.  This doesn’t help.   Take medicine.  Everything hurts.  Ponder how I can live the rest of my life feeling this shitty.  Think about doing laundry.  Drink more coffee.  Look at bills.  Read blogs.  Get feelings hurt for no reason.  Get irrationally angry at cat toy.  Worry how I will be able to act happy when the kids get home.  Feel bad because I know they know I am sad.  Practice smiling.  Cry.

1:00 p.m.  Decide to write this stupid blog.  Arms hurt so bad that I can’t type after first paragraph.  Curse myself, silently this time because I think I’ve been upsetting my cat with all the yelling.  Wonder how the fuck I am supposed to get anything accomplished when I feel so shitty.  Think if I was going to kill myself, I would eat a lot of meat first.  Read article about stupid meat allergy.  Eat a cup of peaches.  Smell a funny smell in kitchen and think I should clean the kitchen so it looks like it did Saturday, but then I got sick Sunday so maybe I should rest.  I hate resting.  Wonder how come I only feel like a worthwhile human being if I have accomplished something.  Wonder if just existing is this hard for anyone else?

1:30 p.m.  Realize kids will be home in three hours.  Think I should listen to some music or go for a walk to cheer me up.  Don’t do either of those things.  Think about calling my dad but know I will just cry.  Mom calls, points out that I haven’t eaten anything but one cup of peaches in the last two days.  Eat another cup of peaches.

That is as far as I’ve made it today, and looking back over that, it’s disgusting.  I don’t know what I expect to accomplish with this.  I think my initial thought was that maybe someone who didn’t have depression, anxiety, or pain could read it and get an idea of what it is like, but now that just sounds like the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.  I’m pretty sure I told myself I was going to post it anyway, because my brain can’t be trusted right now, but what if the bad idea was writing this in the first place?  This is just so stupid.

After I wrote that, I proceeded to have a full-blown, hunker down in the floor, shaking, heart pounding, terrifying panic attack.  Laid in floor and practiced breathing exercises until I could get meds, then laid in bed and focused on breathing in the good, out the bad.

***************************************************************************

Part 2

When the kids got home yesterday, things got considerably better.  Thing 2 came home from school not feeling well and after a big hug, he went straight to bed.  I hope he is not feeling the same way I’m feeling.  My mom made us dinner and talked to me for a while and also gave me a big hug.  Thing 3 fell asleep on my lap watching the Bachelorette, after we chose some pictures of her to send to school and picked a favorite book for her to take.  Thing 1 is so funny.  He cracks me up all the time.  We made some jokes about the guys on the Bachelorette, and he offered to carry Thing 3 to bed; so sweet, always watching out for me.  Husband came home and I filled him in on the Bachelorette and then we watched Jimmy Kimmel.  Godzilla, people?  Really?  Oh, that was hilarious.  Then I went to bed and it only took me probably an hour to fall asleep.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

6:25 a.m.  Husband wakes me up.  I don’t speak to him.  Go get coffee and meds.  Everything hurts.  Get Thing 3 dressed and brush her hair, wake up Things 1 and 2, and am happy to tell them they have clean clothes in the dryer.  I am happy that we did Thing 3’s homework last night.  Husband shares video of movie trailer — I will watch anything with a talking raccoon, especially one who has to adjust his balls.  (I’ve got issues.)

7:15 a.m. Everyone leaves. It was a good morning.  I drink coffee, look at email and Facebook and messages.  Get sleepy.

8:00 a.m.  Go back to bed and sleep like a baby for 2 hours, even though the phone woke me up midway.

10:00 a.m.  Drink coffee.  Think about stuff I need to talk to the doctor about.  Think about making a list.  Play Candy Crush.  Think that maybe it’s okay that my brain is so fucked up sometimes, since a lot of highly creative, talented people struggle with mental illness.  Decide to add this to my post from yesterday that I never posted and even password protected because I was so ashamed of it.  Marvel at the difference a day makes.  Feel thankful that the tide turned once again and that I am still here on the beach.  Think about trying to build something stronger to hold onto for next time.

43 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in Blogging, thoughts, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

May 7, 2014

People of Walmart Fight Back

By Steph

Today has been overly eventful. I feel like a fretful child who has just come from a birthday party (with clowns) where she ate too much cake and is now crying because she is tired and sticky and has to bathe.

Except I didn’t go to a party, I’m not a child, and I’m not planning on bathing.

My day started with a two hour drive to see an allergist who actually knows her ass from a hole in the ground. It was refreshing. The actual allergy testing, not so much.

And I did this voluntarily. I told you I was crazy.

Believe it or not, I actually have a normal-sized arm. Pictures can be deceiving.

I was early for my appointment because I underestimated how awesome I am at directions, so I ended up with some free time to explore the town. I deduced that the citizens of this place would be fancier and in better shape than my unkempt self, basing this solely on the ungodly amount of gyms and hair, nail, and tanning salons.

This would later prove to be an utterly false assumption.

I’m sure you’ve all seen People of Walmart. If not, you better go take a peek. I’ll wait.

walmart

And you thought I was weird.

Anyway, I was super tired by the time I got to the store. I gathered up my few purchases after searching all over that motherfucker for mothballs just like I do every single time (they are by the ironing boards, just like always), and went to the checkout.

I chose Express Checkout 20 Items or Less based on the cashier. Not too old, not too young. The old ones are slow and follow every single rule. I don’t have time for that price check bullshit. I’ll give you a dollar for it. The really young ones are the same way. What you want is a checker who has been there long enough that the brainwashing has worn off, or one who just loves people so much that they will do anything in their power to make your shopping experience end well.

There was a group of three shoppers in front of me; Dad in an electric cart, and a grown man and woman who in my mind became brother and sister, but in reality I have no idea.  Anyway. I knew we were all fucked when my perfect cashier up and left. The young man who replaced her was one of those guys who you know just loved telling people, “I’m sorry. It’s store policy.” while staring at you blankly even though you have a binder and obviously know how to fucking coupon, dude!

The lady in front of me didn’t like it either. He was screwing up her coupons, the line was getting all long and shit, and her face was getting red and blotchy.  Next thing, Checker-Guy walks off with a coupon, presumably to verify something, but I think he was just gassy.

At this point, my legs were killing me. My cart happened to be next to the empty checkout which, had it held another cashier, could have saved us all some grief, Walmart. So I took a seat on the bagging carousel and opened my Coke. The cashier finally returned and never said a word about the delay. Let me remind you that we were in the Express Lane. He finally gets all the lady’s coupons in and…she thinks he messed up. She requires a printout and then verifies each and every coupon, I assume for each of her 20 items BECAUSE THE SIGN CLEARLY SAID 20 ITEMS OR LESS. She was obviously very flustered and I felt for her, I really did. It wasn’t her fault she was trying to save money and her dad is disabled and her brother wears funny pants. Goddamn it, life.

She goes to pay (finally) and drops her debit card. Of course, since this is a fucking comedy of errors, it falls between the motorized cart and the counter. She can’t reach it and Dad seems oblivious, or maybe he just wasn’t moving fast enough for her. Next thing I know, she grabs the basket of the motorized cart with both hands and shoves it backwards, Dad and all, directly into my shopping cart, which slams into me, knocking me off my perch in the bagging area and into the wall of the checkout behind me. All this happened so fast, I didn’t even have time to curse. It was like a row of dominoes, and I was the last one.

Or get your ass kicked; either way.

Or get your ass kicked; either way.

Doesn’t-Give-A-Shit-Cashier didn’t even look at me. Violent Coupon Lady paid for her stuff and stomped away.  Silly-Pants Brother laughed at me (I laughed back) and asked if I was okay, and Dad In the Cart said “Whoa. This thing has reverse?”

I was over my limit on interacting with people before I even went in the store.  Then I got assaulted. With a shopping cart. Today I have been poked, scratched, told my nose is crooked and has a crease in it and that I have dark circles under my eyes, was covered in itch dots, had blood drawn, talked to 11 strangers, and been knocked ass over teakettle in a grocery store.

fort

78 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in Just Being Awesome, random bullshit, total chaos, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

April 21, 2014

Deep Thoughts, Brought to You by the Easter Bunny

By Steph

Have you ever heard of Behavioral Therapy?  Well, in a nutshell, it’s supposed to teach you to think happier so you will be happier.

However, I am an asshole, and as such, I usually think not-nice comments in my head when people suggest that I should “think happy thoughts.”

But.

source: sodahead.com

source: sodahead.com

I just had something of a breakthrough here, sitting on my couch in my second day of the same pajamas, eating leftover Easter candy, and hurting so badly that I curse at myself when the phone rings or I have to pee because then I have to hobble around and that hurts even worse than typing, which is really quite painful since my hands, wrists, elbows, and shoulders are all screaming.

Makes me wonder why I’ve spent so much money on therapy, if I can just come up with this shit on my own and not have to shower or drive.  Anyway, I presume you are on the edge of your seat?  Dying to know what I’ve discovered?

Okay, okay, calm down.

I was sitting here, as mentioned above, and I was feeling really, really shitty about not getting anything accomplished today.  By that I mean I’ve done a load of laundry and made a couple business calls and that’s it.  Oh, and I closed the dishwasher so the kitchen would look cleaner.

So I was basically giving myself a silent talking to and just, you know, berating myself because I’m not able to do all the things that I could do before.  I was thinking about all the time that is just gone, disappeared, because of the chronic migraines.  All the time that I will never get back, spent recovering from an allergic reaction or a migraine or from a trip to the store.  And I was thinking about all the time lost, spent just staring at the wall because I was so depressed that doing anything but that was just impossible.  And about all the time I’ve wasted crying, and how feeling so bad today (physically) makes me want to cry more because it makes me feel worthless and like a failure when I’m not able, either physically or mentally, to do what I’ve decided needs to be done.

Then today I thought, hey, at least I’m not in bed with a migraine.  If I had a migraine right now, or an allergic reaction, I’d be throwing up and maybe even have to go to the emergency room.  I wouldn’t be able to talk to the kids when they get home, or see my husband, or write anything, or watch t.v. or anything except throw up, try to breathe, hold my head, and cry.

So, really, today is not so bad.  I mean, I’m still in a lot of pain and I’m not going to get any housework done, make dinner, or do anything that means I have to get out of this heated chair, but…at least I’m able to be in this heated chair.  My kids can come snuggle me here and their voices won’t make my head explode.  I’m writing this, and although it’s no masterpiece, I’m pretty sure I’m making sentences, which is more than I’m capable of some days.

So that was my breakthrough.  On days like today when I’m feeling bad and feeling guilty for feeling bad and for what I’m not doing, maybe I should instead think about what I can do.

This is weird and I kind of feel like smacking myself.  I think I just gave myself permission to relax.  Or, maybe I’m high on sugar and chocolate.  I don’t know, and I don’t know how long this strange phenomenon is going to last, but I am glad it’s here for now.

33 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , | posted in random bullshit, small humans, stuff I made up, thoughts, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor