So sick of feeling like shit

So, last night, I went back to the hospital again, because my chest has been hurting like hell again. They took an X-Ray and found nothing, which was a relief, but still no real consolation, considering it hurts when I take a deep breath. It’s pretty much along the bottom of my collar bone on my left side, maybe an inch or so below it, occasionally going down the left side of my sternum and it goes into my shoulder a bit, as well. I asked them if they could switch my prescription for Lexapro to Celexa, considering I can’t afford Lexapro, and they denied me, saying something about it being a controlled substance or something. That really pissed me off, because they just tossed the prescription for Lexapro at me without a second thought, but they wouldn’t switch it to something which is almost identical to it because I can’t afford the Lexapro.

This just sucks so fucking hard. My chest hurts and the doctors couldn’t give me any explanation as to why, and when they discharged me, they gave me a few pieces of paper with information on Pleurisy, which is an inflammation of the lining around the lungs, which my X-Ray did NOT show. When I asked about it, they just said, “Well, we had to give you something”, even though there was nothing conclusive about me having that.

I’m just so fucking depressed right now, and I’m scared because my chest hurts with no explanation as to why, I can’t get my prescription for the only anti-anxiety medication that has ever worked properly for me switched to one that could be considered the “generic” form, I didn’t get any solid answers to ANY of the questions I asked the doctors yesterday…

I keep wondering if this is how I’m going to be for the rest of my life. I’m so sick of hurting, and I’m so god damned SICK of feeling like shit. I realized earlier today that I’ve actually forgotten what it feels like to not have any pain, to not worry about something going wrong again, to actually enjoy anything at all. How sad is that? I have completely FORGOTTEN what it’s like to feel completely normal.

I try to be optimistic about things, but it’s really getting harder and herder every day to even try to keep it up.


“Hot Coffee Is Hot”

When I was growing up, the biggest joke when looking at any kind of packaging was “Do not use while sleeping”. Of course, this was a joke because, unless you’re sleepwalking, it’s quite impossible to blow dry your hair, and even if you are sleepwalking, there’s nothing you can do about it at the time, because you’re asleep.
Now I’m finding packages of peanuts that proclaim that this package “May contain nuts”. Packs of carrots have an ingredients list that consists of, “Carrots”. Beverage containers from fast food places have warnings stating that, “Hot coffee is hot”.
When I see these warnings and ingredient lists, I have to wonder just how far we have gone. Sure, we have scientists working around the clock, trying to fully understand our universe, but these people are running fewer and further between and are studying things which cannot be proven until they do or do not happen, such as the anthropic principle.
Are these warning really necessary? Do people really need to be told that carrots are carrots and that when something is steaming it’s hot? Do people who are allergic to nuts really need to be told that this package contains nuts when the package itself says “Mixed Nuts”?
I heard a joke a few years ago, stating that if we removed all warning labels, the problems with the average level of intelligence would take care of itself. I don’t think I’ve ever agreed with anything as vehemently as that. My faith in humanity has reached such a low point that I would love to see the list of runner-ups for the Darwin Awards skyrocket, as I have no doubt it would if we removed the warning labels.
In conclusion, hot coffee is hot, carrots are carrots, cashews are cashews and common sense is less common than I could ever have known.

Halloween comes and goes again

So another Halloween has come and gone. I remain candy-less, but that’s because I want to get rid of the spare tire I’ve been slowly and lazily developing. I miss Halloween when I was a kid, yeah, but I’m not sure if I really want to take part in it anymore, aside from dressing up the way I’d really like to when I go out in public.

Why I say this is actually a few reasons. The more I dress myself up for Halloween, the more strange looks I’ll get from the other adults in the area. I usually don’t mind the strange looks and have, on occasion, made snide remarks at the people who blatantly and openly stare at me. I don’t like getting reproachful looks just for looking a bit different. The people who get these expressions are also usually the people who get offended when children stare at them, so I try my best to pass these people off as idiots, which usually works well enough for me. On the other hand, though, sometimes these looks can stick in my mind for a while. Sometimes a snide remark is uttered as we pass by each other and I want to turn around and say, “excuse me? I’m sorry, does my outfit of nothing but black slacks and a black t-shirt somehow offend you in your entirely black work outfit?” It gets on my nerves. I won’t stop looking different for the sake of being comfortable in my own skin because someone else finds it “odd”, but these looks and occasional comments irk me.

Another reason I grow weary of Halloween is because of the actions of people my age. I don’t like going to parties where more than half of the attendees end up wasted at the end of the night. I don’t mind a bit of alcohol, as long as it’s something I like, such as red wine, or Kahlua, but there’s never any of either of those at these gatherings. I’m not expecting anyone to get them for me, and only me, but the majority of people who bring alcoholic beverages to these gatherings brings what they know everyone will enjoy, and when I mention Kahlua, many other people light up with enthusiasm. Back to my point, I don’t mind a bit of alcohol, because having a decent buzz while playing Apples to Apples is pretty cool. Trying to play when someone is completely wasted, on the other hand, is more of a chore in trying to keep them from passing out on top of their cards, trying to have them drink some water so they don’t feel like sixteen shades of hell in the morning, trying to keep them occupied with something so that they don’t do something stupid, the list goes on. Hanging out with drunken friends is more of a chore than a good time. It’s more of an awkward situation, listening to them talk about something that makes no sense (a friend of mine ranted about “his macaroni” for twenty minutes once), trying not to squirm when they clutch onto you for support, even when they’re sitting down and the back of the chair could offer more support than a moving person, pretending to ignore the noise when they finally run off to the bathroom to vomit and them coming back shortly after thinking that because they just vomited that it’s time for more. Trying not to squirm again when they lean over you and talk two inches from your face, as if you wouldn’t be able to hear their insanely loud drunken ramblings from thirty feet away in a crowded room, and their breath absolutely reeks of whatever they’ve been drinking.

Okay, I’m getting off topic.

When I was in high school, I loved Halloween, because the people who made fun of me stopped for just that one day. There were no jeers of, “Hey! Halloween isn’t for another month!” A few times, people actually dressed up as my sister and I. Granted it was a satire of what we usually did, but it was still flattering nonetheless. On those days, I was a god in my own right. I could say and do whatever my morbid little mind could think of to scare the living hell out of someone, and it was expected of me, so people didn’t care if I scared them, or dressed up, or anything like that. Nowadays, people expect it of me to a degree that I feel like dressing down for Halloween just to confuse them and tell them that I’m dressing as a normal person, just because of how much it’s expected.

When you become your own stereotype, it feels good to change it up once in a while.

I don’t know, I’m just getting a bit tired of the whole feel of this overblown and endlessly commercialized holiday. I wish, though it will never happen, people stopped trying to make it something “cute” for their kids to enjoy. When I went out trick-or-treating as a kid, I expected to have the shit scared out of me. I don’t know if it was my own desensitization, but I started getting scared less and less every year. Eventually, I wasn’t scared at all anymore and took it upon myself to scare other people, because everyone else was too busy making things “cute” and “fun”. Now, I’m kind of bored of it.

Oh, well. Maybe next year will be a bit more fun.

Preparing once again…

For NaNoWriMo! 8D

I’m still working on Family Values, and I’d like to finish it by the end of NaNoWriMo this year.

The synopsis I have for Family Values right now on the NaNoWriMo website is this:

Demons live on earth. They are segregated and treated poorly, as if they were inferior. Hunting them has become a sport, capturing them, a game. The largest Hunter in the world has been killed by one of his own prisoners and one demon has been captured by the devil himself. Now, a journey into hell and back will decide the fate of the world, and possibly existence itself.

I think that’s a fairly catchy synopsis, and possibly the best blurb I’ve written for Family Values since I started writing it. lol

I have no idea if I’ll end it at the 50,000 word marker (or shortly after that…I don’t want to cut it off mid-sentence, y’know). I want to do multiple books, but I don’t know if I want to finish this one with everything being happy-go-lucky at the end, or semi-happy-go-lucky with something dark on the horizon, or even possibly just as everyone is heading off to battle, or something. I don’t know.


Jack smiled again and said, “Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? What does Treachery have to lose if the ultimate act of treachery is committed?” He dropped his smile and a seething scowl replaced it. “I lose what is rightfully mine! The realm of treachery is rightfully mine, because I am Treachery itself! The task with which the gods themselves charged me at the beginning of time is the exact opposite of Pandora’s jar. While the jar unleashed anger, hatred, disease, what have you, the last remainder inside the jar was hope. My task is to grant hope, happiness and success. When the person is finally where they want to be…I destroy everything in one fell swoop.”
Frўdæ looked between his father and the monstrous creature, confused.
“What kind of god would charge anyone or…anything, as the case seems to be, with such an act?”
“Why, yours, of course!” He stood up and started pacing around the living room. “The gods deemed that for every action, there needs to be an equal, but opposite reaction, something Newton discovered, but applied to physics. Even though he was correct in his application, he didn’t know that the same law applies to everything, including spirituality, gods, and literally everything else. Thus, my friends, the moment Pandora allowed her curiosity to get the better of her, I was born.” He stopped pacing and faced the two of them with his hands spread wide and his wicked grin playing across his face again. His smile faltered and he began to slowly pace again. “Unfortunately, my one and only rule is that I cannot lie to the subjects whom I choose to help. In your case, this is actually very fortunate, because this means that when I tell you that I have no intention whatsoever to destroy your hopes and dreams of returning your loved one home…I am telling that absolute truth.”
Frўdæ raised his hand to stop him. “Wait a minute…if you were charged to destroy the hope and all that once it’s been built, how can you tell us that you won’t do it to us, too?”
Arodin stopped pacing again and said, “I can assure you, because I choose who I help. I choose what happens to them. There has been only one other person who I did not destroy afterward, and there were no consequences. If I say that I will not demolish your task once finished, I mean it with all sincerity.”
He walked over the Frўdæ and Kazbyron and placed a hand on each ones shoulder. “I must warn you, my friends,” he said gently, “Time is strange between Hell and earth. Yes, Frўdæ, I left that message in place of your cigarettes, which I have in my bag, if you want them back. By time is strange, I mean that while it has been little over a month since Lukiber has been gone, years may have passed for him. If the nine lords have done as they planned, he will not be the same person you remember him being. From the moment he left with Léviatān, he became someone…something completely different than you remember. You will have to remind him of who he is which I can assure you will feel next to impossible when you try to do so.”

I’m also looking for proof-readers, so if this excerpt interests you and you can give a decent critique, please don’t hesitate to contact me!

Lexapro and an amazing nurse

While I was in the hospital, I mentioned to the nurses that I have anxiety/depression issues, so they put me on a daily dose of Lexapro to help me with it. I normally don’t like any kinds of medication or pills or anything like that, but it really did make me feel better. When I was discharged yesterday, the nurse told me I was supposed to have a prescription for it, but she didn’t have the paper with her. Knowing that we don’t have enough money for it, I told her that was fine, and I generally don’t like to take anything for it anyway and that I really don’t like pills or medications. She said okay and let me leave without it.

Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that I was feeling so good because I was still on it.

Now, I’m feeling the effects of it wearing off, and it’s hitting me HARD. I feel like shit. I’m sad, my anxiety is coming back full force and I’m hyperventilating again. One of the nurses, Jen, who is the GREATEST NURSE IN THE WORLD (more on that later), actually put me on the Lexapro BECAUSE I hyperventilate while my anxiety is acting up, and I was in for a collapsed lung. She had a momentary epiphany when I told her about my hyperventilation and immediately put me on it.

Seriously, I can feel everything rushing back, and it’s absolutely terrible.

Anyway, I was going to talk about Jen for a bit and let you all know about the greatest nurse in the world.

When I first had the procedure to have the tube inserted into my chest done, I was in the most pain I have ever felt, and the first thing I did was ask if she could stay with me for a little while. I asked, because one of my deepest fears is being alone. She held my hand throughout the procedure and kept saying things like, “you’re doing fine”, “the worst is over”, and all those good things. So, I asked her to stay with me for a while, because I was so afraid. She held my hand with both of hers and said that she’d stay for as long as she could until she had to get back to work, but until then she would stay. I actually started to cry because of, not just the pain, but how kind she was. While I have met some truly kind people, she is honestly right up near the top.

For the rest of that day and the next day, she took over everything when it came to taking care of me. There are two nurses on duty in each wing at all times, one for checking the vitals and bringing things to the patients, another for giving out the medications. Well, Jen did everything for me. She brought me the incentive spirometer a few hours after the procedure and told me what it was for and how it would drastically help me. If you don’t know what an incentive spirometer is, here’s all the info you’ll need. For the rest of the day, she was hustling and bustling around me, making sure I was using it. The first time, I got only 1,300 ml. The average lung capacity is 6,000 ml, so that was a fraction of what I should be able to do. So, she, being the good nurse, says, “I know you can do better than that, I think you’re just worried about how much it might hurt, so I want you to try it again”. So I tried again, and got just a little more, 1,500. By the end of the day, I was getting almost 3,000. When she saw, she flailed a little bit and goes, “I am going to sleep SO well tonight!” and gave me a fist bump. The next day was the same thing, really, but I progressed all the way up to 4,000, which is the max for the incentive spirometer. When I got the plunger up all the way, she actually told me she was surprised and proud of how quickly I was able to do so.

When the night shift started at 7pm, it was part of her job to take the new nurse around and show them all of the new patients. When she was showing me to the new nurse, she told her that she had better take good care of me, and she really looked like she meant business when she said so.

Seriously, because of her, I had a great time recovering from this, and I’m actually planning on sending her something along with a thank you card. Not sure what I’d send, though.

Anyway, just posting something for the sake of posting.