MFA Mama

in which I have a mostly good weekend and clearly it angers the gods

*   Friday night Hotter came down with Middle Child's most recent GI bug.

*   Undaunted, and fortified with Immodium and a fabulous purse filled with snacks, we sallied forth on Saturday and saw The Hunger Games with those movie vouchers. It was excellent.

*   Sunday I mowed, edged, trimmed, and weeded ALL THE THINGS. Which is good, because it rained all damn day Saturday and rained again today and the plants (the grass included) are all growing like mofos.

*   Today was Big Child's birthday. In preparation for that I went into work an hour and fifteen minutes early, left early, ran to Trader Joe's with my rubber checkbook, and got groceries (we were out of EVERYTHING). Then I headed straight home, brought the groceries into the house, and...threw my back ALL THE WAY OUT reaching to put a package of organic string cheese away in the fridge.

*   Yeah. I can dig three-foot trenches, throw sixty-pound bags of potting soil around, hell, I can dead-lift my HUSBAND and carry him on a triumphant lap around our living room just to be a dick prove a point, but a one-pound bag of cheese sticks? Dropped me in my tracks today like I'd been pole-axed.

*   This is the worst back pain I have ever experienced, I think. Including the time I broke my goddamn back. I have taken a liver-damaging amount of Tylenol-laced narcotics and a hefty dose of naproxen (FUCK MY CLOTTING TIME! IN THE ASS! WITH EVERY DICK THAT EVER THERE WAS, THIS IS THAT BAD) and I still can't move any of my limbs without yelping. Also, my legs aren't working very well. Nobody panic, this isn't all that unusual for me when my back is acting up, it's just never been THIS BAD before. I like to think I have a pretty robust pain threshold, but this has me whimpering like a little bitch. If I don't wake up tomorrow miraculously improved I don't have any idea what I'll do.

*   Well, that's a damn lie. Unless I lose the ability to walk I will go to work anyway and be fucking MISERABLE all day, is what I'll do. But right now I don't see how I'll manage. Of course, I didn't see how I'd bake the requested triple-coconut/vanilla layer cake earlier, either, and I still did that, so I guess I'll do what I have to do and even smile during if need be. I'm just not particularly looking forward to it.

*   How are all of YOU?

today BROUGHT IT!

*   I may have a freelance gig doing something I am only marginally qualified to do for someone terrifyingly rich and important at PseudoCorp. When they asked me to meet with them I thought it was regarding PseudoCorp business, but instead they want my help with a personal project that is kind of neat but OH MY GOD DID I MENTION HOW BIG AND IMPORTANT AND RICH AND TERRIFYING THEY ARE? YES? WELL THIS IS ME DOING IT AGAIN BECAUSE GAHHHHH!

*   Okay. Deep breaths. I'm actually more qualified than I thought to do this, in fact it may be something I could start doing as a consultant on the regular if I can get over the overwhelming urge to puke on The Client's shoes and run screaming and waving my hands in the air, heedless to the enormity of my pit-stains (what, you don't sweat profusely when you're nervous? LUCKY YOU). I just...well. I have kind of a complex when it comes to rich people stemming back to my childhood when the only rich people I knew were banging The Narcissist and lavishing her with gifts, which I think my dad kind of accepted as his penance for transgressions of his own in prior marriages, but the whole thing kind of cheesed me off because it tended to throw fuel on the fires of her "I was meant for better than this" complex, with "this" meaning "me." WHOA. AWKWARD. I don't talk about The Narcissist on here (or anywhere else) much for a reason. ANYWAY. Rich people. TERRIFYING. Shit.

*   I have a strict "no turning down work" policy, however. I will put on my big girl panties and Do Lunch with the rich people next week and see where it leads. If I do a good job this might be a foot in the doorway to Better Things. So: YAY!

*   Then I came home and TORE UP the garden, and didn't even find and have to kill any venomous snakes in the process, so, you know, that was good.

*   And then...well. The boys had dinner visitation with their father tonight and I won't stoop ALL the way to juvenile lockerroom bragging, but...a bar has been raised in this house, and that's all I will say.

*   Hotter is feeling much better, obviously. 

*   I am starting to feel less panicky about Big Child's pending birthday. I Have A Plan. He has an Innernet Fairy Godmother who stepped in and is helping me out with the whole Red Robin thing (which is fabulous, because he will be thrilled but also because with his Asperger's if you do something ONCE you have set a PRECEDENT and if you don't do it again the next time the world will fly off its axis and crash into the sun and we will all DIIIIIIIIE...okay, not really. It's not QUITE that bad. But no matter how carefully I tried to explain it he would most likely internalize it as "Red Robin is where one goes for birthdays and we are not going this year because I HAVE DONE SOMETHING TERRIBLY WRONG" and start washing his hands raw again and making us repeat everything we say until we hit the magic number of repetitions, so: yeah), and the only thing Big Child has mentioned really wanting lately (my kids don't ask for much...they know we're poor and don't ask unless they're really, REALLY jonesing for something special) is a Hunger Games t-shirt that one of his friends has that he is convinced is ONLY sold at the very mall where the local Red Robin is located. So if I tell Big Child we have to wait until a non-schoolnight then I will have gotten paid and will be able to get him the t-shirt while we're there for dinner next Friday night. It'll kill me a little bit to buy it in person without a coupon or any cash back from eBates, but it'll make him happy so I will deal :)

*   And now I am off to bed...how are all of YOU?

some happy things

*   Thanks to a generous friend, last night I was able to go out and get bread, milk, and butter (and also? APPLE JUICE! And there was great rejoicing amongst the MFA Children).

*   I am the queen of frugality, but I did not know about this. Of course I'd just BOUGHT milk when I saw it this morning, but we will absolutely try it next time and report back on our results! Thanks, Anissa!

*   I have been sick since yesterday with GI symptoms, which sucks, but Isis gives the best snuggles when I'm not feeling well. It's like she knows:

Figure One: Behold, the vishiss killr pitbull!

*   Hotter told me a funny that I'd never heard before, and it had me howling. It's a new-to-me term: "rodeo fuck." 

Rodeo fuck (n.) - When you're doing your girl, and call her by your ex's name then try to hold on for seven seconds.

a partial list of reasons why I pretty much quit life

*   I am having a full-blown autoimmune flare, which sucks immeasurably. I've been limping around in denial for a couple of days, but had to admit today that my SI joint is in open rebellion. The funny thing is, I actually sat there all confused for a minute when it dawned on me that this was autoimmune in nature. "How odd," I though. "I haven't been under any extraordinary stress recentl--oh." While I was not, at any point, even when he was screaming his head off and frantic in the ER, concerned for Middly's life or long-term wellbeing, spending the night at St. Somebody's where most of Little Child's scariest hospitalizations took place...well, I think it broke my psyche to the point that I honestly blocked it out until I took a moment to think about what in my life might've stressed me out to the point that my body turned on me.

*   Dr. Plastic Fantastic's office e-mailed me an estimate for the procedure for Jank Jaw:

Figure One: Today I balanced the checkbook, and we have $1.26 to get us through until Tuesday, so. Yeah. Not doing THIS any time soon...

*   Apparently, Bayer doesn't feel like honeybees are going extinct fast enough. Dick move, Bayer. I will never buy your brand of 81-mg aspirin for Hotter again, or anything else you make (we use mostly generics here at Casa MFA, so this won't hurt TOO much, although we do use Advantage on the dogs...it's not the only spot-treatment for flea and tick control though!).

*   One of my children is going through a period of OCD-like behaviors and germaphobia that is...well. Let's just say that said child finding an aphid on a leaf of lettuce in their salad bowl tonight ruined dinner for EVERYONE. It was so ridiculous that halfway through the fit I plucked the offending lettuce leaf out of the child's hand and ATE IT, APHID AND ALL just to prove that that isn't something that'll kill you. Yeah, I ate a bug. At the dinner table. IT'S COME TO THAT.

*   And then I went outside to grab some seedlings that I bring in at night and stepped down barefoot on a huge, juicy slug. *GAG*

*   And how are all of YOU?

my body is an asshole

*   I am home sick today, which I can ill afford, but the stomach bug that felled Middle Child over the last Daddy Weekend got Hotter, Little Child, and Big Child yesterday and today it is my turn. I'm actually less sick than I thought I would be when I took stock after the alarm went off and kind of regretting staying home, because I *probably* could have at least APPEARED to keep it together at work today, but...meh. Probably I could use the rest. I've developed a whole new fear of what my body will unleash on me if I don't listen to it lately...

*   Speaking of which, yesterday was a horrible day with Jank Jaw; Hotter reported that the night before last it sounded like I was chewing rocks in my sleep, which I guess accounts for the ringing earache and splitting headache that lasted ALL DAY. Eff me. I am starting to think the grisly procedure the oral surgeon suggested might be warranted, after all (although there is a huge difference between "warranted" and "going to happen" because of "money").

*   The above might have SEEMED like I was just whining, but apparently calling my body out on stuff shames it into toeing the line. Remember the weight issue? Well, now look:

Figure One: Yeah, I dunno either, but I'll take it! Five weeks into the diet, and I am down by 0.2 pounds. Still, things are heading in the right direction! I was seriously considering calling my endocrinologist and asking him to weigh in (SEE WHAT I DID THERE?) on this, because while on one hand going to the doctor for anything short of "arterial spurting" at this point goes against every frugal little fiber of my being, on the other hand gaining a significant amount of weight while active and on a reduced-calorie diet is potentially a sign of Things Going Awry that ought to be addressed. For now I'm just going to keep watching this and blame the steroids.

*   I feel like all I talk about anymore on here is my stupid health, which is not what I want this blog to turn into AT ALL. What would y'all like to hear about next? Possible topics include DIY drip irrigation, how I haven't used shampoo in over a month and don't miss it a bit, homemade dishwasher detergent, and what's growing in the garden. Also I read the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy if anyone wants to talk about that. How are all of YOU?

oral surgeon, etc.

*   I have lived in MFA Town for nearly thirty-three years of my thirty-three and change and managed to make it until yesterday without ever knowing there was a cookie-cutter office complex off Main Rural Drag with at least eleventy-five hundred oral surgeons', dentists', and maxillofacial surgeons' offices. AT LEAST. And they all had the same tooth-with-roots cutout on the side of their building, and the same three signs reading "ORAL SURGEON," "DENTIST," and "MAXILLOFACIAL SURGEON." And the same color and font used to paint their names on their office doors (the only variation in these offices was the names--I didn't even see any damn address numbers). After I found the office I was meant to go to I got out of the MFA Minivan and kissed the ground on my hands and knees, giving thanks for small favors like only seeing THIS place once in my life to date. Although I am sure it will be appearing in my anxiety dreams FROM NOW ON.

*   The oral surgeon seemed very smart and was quite engaging, which...well. I instantly wonder about him, because men who are people-persons usually lead me to make stupid decisions. Be that as it may, since he did have an advanced degree and years of surgical experience, plus the personal recommendation of Dr. JewishName, I heard him out on his interpretation of my Jank Jaw.

*   Jank jaw is jank, y'all.

*   Dr. PlasticFantastic thinks the next (and also, in my case, the LAST, on which more in a moment) step would be arthrocentesis of the temporomandibular joint.

*   Arthrocentesis (go ahead, Google Image that shit, I'll wait) may or may not work. My insurance company may or may not agree to cover it. It may or may not be a good idea for various reasons inherent to both general risks and specific physical oddities of mine. If it doesn't work, though, I either have to figure out how to live with the symptoms (which currently I do) or pursue pain management as an ongoing part of my permanent medical "team." Which? Barf. But my connective tissue disease (which I had stupidly neglected to put on my intake paperwork because seriously what would that have to do with my clenching and grinding my jaw? OH EVERYTHING APPARENTLY IN THAT AN ENTRAPPED PIECE OF DETACHED CARTILAGE IS BEHIND THIS BULLSHIT) makes any kind of open joint surgery (YES HE MENTIONED THAT) dumb(er even than for the general population--joints are like engine cases, people, you open them and it voids the warranty no matter how skillful you are about it). Bottom line is, my body is going to do what it's going to do, and any attempts to stop it will be temporary at best and crippling at worst. 

*   So I have to decide whether I want to pursue arthrocentesis (in theory--in reality I don't know for certain how I will feed everyone for the next six days and surgery? OH HAHA, YOU SILLY GOOSE!), which may relieve current symptoms, most likely on a temporary basis, or just shrug and choose to live with this evenifIcouldaffordtofixit.

*   Hotter's computer is totally dead. Like, giant lovingly hand-built paperweight attached to desk-sized monitor dead. He is very sad about that. And bitter. By which I mean prone to sniping at loved ones. But he's so upset I don't even really want to call him on much, so I'm gardening tons. "That's fine for you," he groused at me yesterday, "but what about MY rage and anxiety?" Implication being that I should come the fuck inside and keep him company. "I can't address YOUR rage and anxiety," I said, "I can barely handle my own." And I kept on digging, so. Yeah.

*   My health, aside from the various ongoing TMJ/ENT/Asthma clusterfucks and despite my major "diet/lifestyle/headspace adjustment," is not what I would like for it to be. I am retaining a TON of water right now (by which I mean more than ten pounds' worth that appeared literally overnight), which is uncomfortable, unsightly, and unsettling. I am starting to fear that my autoimmune bullshit is waking and stretching preparatory to looking for a nice snack. I don't want to talk about my health. If you asked me to describe it in one word I'd hiss at you like a cat.

*   So things are...not good here. At all. How are YOU?

things I'm doing to try and feel better

*   This (Dr. Mom gets two thumbs up from me).

*   Making this a lot.

*   Sleep.

*   Garden, garden, garden (it's good exercise, it's soothing, AND it creates food which helps address a lot of my anxiety about how we'll eat this summer if Temp Agency #1 doesn't have anything for me after PseudoCorp).

*   Cordyceps sinensis (yep, could be total woo, but the endocrinologist who suggested it to me tracked my p.m. cortisol with labwork and if it didn't make a huge difference that was one helluva coincidence/placebo effect).

*   No sugar. Very few white carbs.

*   No stress. I just refuse. Everything is wonderful and fine here, and I'm going to keep saying it until it is true, god dammit.

ENT

*   The ENT office was huge and cushy and efficient, and ran on-time. The very nice ENT, Dr. JewishName,** first came in to meet me and have a cursory look into both ears/tap around on my face and head. He pronounced my GP to have "dropped the ball" and Bad Ear's eardrum to be "not as awful as I'd expected," and sent me for an immediate hearing/audiology workup. My hearing in Bad Ear is diminished, but I didn't TOTALLY bomb the hearing part of the test. The sucky-puff thingy to check eardrum flexibility showed a diminished range of movement on Bad Ear's side, but apparently only to the degree that's to be expected in a recently-ruptured eardrum, not to the point that it's not moving because it's stretched tightly outward with fluid or infection. It's just stiff and creaky like everything else on my body right now. "You should have come and seen me a month ago," said the nice ENT. "I would have been a hero. I could've relieved all of your discomfort and speeded your healing by popping a tube in that sucker," said the ENT indignantly, while pinching and manhandling the area around the former pustule (it drained en route to the appointment, apparently, and is still a little sore but Dr. JewishName felt no tract or swelling of the underlying tissues and said to just keep using hot compresses and topical stuff on it unless I spike a temp/grow a horn). "Open and close your mouth a couple of times, please...ohhhh. Yep. I think this is coming from your temporomandibular joint. Are you under any extraordinary stress?"

*   Dr. JewishName then took me to a "procedure room" and had me lie down. He crawled Bad Ear with a microscope, then torqued my head and neck around some thoughtfully. "How's THAT?" he asked, digging the tip of his thumb into my head directly in front of my tragus. "GAHHHH!" I yelled. "Uh huh. Yep. There's nothing I can do for this. I treat it sometimes with steroids, but if those haven't helped and you haven't developed a fever it's most likely not autoimmune or infectious, and I'm going to say it's PROBABLY musculoskeletal, which is usually stress-related. You're going to have to see an oral surgeon about this. All I can do is give you some pain relief you can safely take before a potential surgery...NSAIDs...mishegas!"

*   So, you know, the appointment wasn't a waste of time. I both showed up and walked away with a plan to see a specialist who should hopefully FIX ME, yes, but at least now I have something to take at night when I am not working or driving or doing homework or kicking the garden's ass. 

*   I am VERY IMPRESSED that I cleared the residual resistant bugs from Bad Ear with nothing but my native immune system, Ciprodex drops, regular neti pot rinses and everything-the-innernet-said-to-try-that-didn't-sound-dangerous. GO, ME! It's nice to feel like I had something to do with that what with all of the positive dietary and lifestyle changes I've been working on making. Over all this is FABULOUS NEWS, not only in that I went into this appointment with all of my pills, my mouthguard, and a spare pair of panties in my purse (because I was so sure I'd end up either in Club Med for IV antibiotics or having surgery) and was able to then leave the office and meet my kids coming off the schoolbus and hug my husband, but also in that MY IMMUNE SYSTEM DID ITS JOB FOR A CHANGE!

*   I am less excited by the news that this is most likely a result of chronic known issues, and there's no five-minute fix to the discomfort to be had, but oh well. I have an appointment April third with the oral surgeon Dr. JewishName recommends, and in the meantime I am doing all I can to keep my stress levels down. 

*   The fact that Hotter adjusted the "new" fridge shortly after I replaced as much of the spoiled food as I could afford to and froze it all solid (exploding a glass water kefir bottle and all of the eggs in the process)...well, shit happens. We'll figure something out. 

*   The way Pfeffer escaped from her hutch and climbed onto and devoured much of what was on my seedling and cutting propagation table...well, I can't kick her ass over it but SERIOUSLY OMG IT WAS LIKE FLUFFY WHITE GODZILLA. Still. Calm blue oceans. Noooo stressss...

*   One more day of steroid tapering. Zen. Thoughts.

*   And how are all of YOU?

 

**   I don't know what it makes me that I was so relieved when I found out the ENT I would be seeing had a very Jewish last name. I felt like one of the little old ladies from my granny's Jewish Old Folks' Home who would reportedly roll into the ER and screech "GET ME A JEW!" But I found it immensely reassuring, and did the equivalent of throwing Ashkenazic gang signs by putting part of my oral history into Yiddish, and at that point the doctor did slow down and seem to become even more compassionate and attentive so GO TEAM ABRAHAM!

So. Much. Rage.

*   Today I had The Rage. I keep trying to tell myself it is just the steroids, but you know what? While I am sure they are not helping, and also that I am overreacting to at least a CERTAIN extent, there is also a lot of really infuriating shit going on.

*   To wit: my ex. I don't know if CATHERINE! stopped putting out, or he needs his psych meds adjusted, or he has some kind of post-concussion psychotic break happening or WHAT his deal is, but he has sunk to new lows of sucking at life (which is REALLY SAYING SOMETHING) and also general interpersonal offensiveness. If I told you what he recently did in relation to my children, and the bullshit he threw out to try and deflect my righteous outrage, you would bang your jaw on the floor. It's ridiculous! But I probably shouldn't go into specifics! Even though I'd love to, because even Hotter and I have to laugh at this shit so you would just DIE!

*   Yesterday's work-drama. Oh my word, y'all. It is over with, dead and buried, forgotten, and business as usual except one person CANNOT seem to let go of it. And that person? Is typing this. It's not so much the drama itself as the fact that it clued me in to a certain naivete I had been guilty of when it came to PseudoCorp. And this is so dumb, but see, I had kind of lionized the corporation as a whole and built it up in my mind to the point that finding out it had feet of clay all along is breaking my heart a little. Probably it's for the best that I figured that out or else I would have been devastated not to be hired on permanently, but...well. It's kind of like how the therapist of my formative years used to pry and poke and prod as to why I always defended my father (who was no angel, really, in fact not even remotely CLOSE), until one day two years in I looked at her and my chin started to wobble and I bleated "because SOMEone has to be good in all of this!" And she sighed and said "no, not really, although it's very human to WANT to see it that way."

*   The Twitter. I have put myself in a time-out on there, and haven't even corrected my last (misspelled) tweet. Ordinarily I love the Twitter with every fiber of my social-media-addicted, ADD-riddled being but...lately, dating back to BEFORE the steroids but oh boy, right now ESPECIALLY? Well. It's just a steady stream of 140-character long reasons why a lot of people need to SHUT THEIR HOLES ABOUT THEIR FIRST-WORLD PROBLEMS FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND DECENT. I spent a large portion of my lunch chatting with a very understanding friend, and listing all of our mutual friends who need to shut up and why they needed to shut up and how one in particular needed to shut up and then maybe go and hang themself in a closet and then she, as one of very few people who could say such a thing to me (especially right now) and have me not only not tell HER to shut up but also listen, suggested that I take a break from the Twitter until I was less ragey. And she is right. Because if I do not then I am in serious danger of being abhorrently unkind to a number of mostly-undeserving people, and I am doing an absolutely MISERABLE job of following my self-proclaimed motto of Plato's "be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle" inside my head, and I am kind of starting to horrify myself. I don't even like admitting this. But I figured I would, because a lot of the time people are all "OMG I NEED TO TAKE A BREAK FROM TWITTER AND THE DRAMA" and I am all "seriously? TWITTER is stressing you out? Pansy!" If anyone knows how many calories are in one's own unspoken words, let me know so I can plug that into MyFitnessPal, mmmkay? There's no drama with anyone on there, though. I just need to take a powder, possibly until the steroids are out of my system.

*   And finally, and this is probably what's driving all of the above EXCEPT for the mishegas with my ex (who just sucks objectively speaking no matter what is or isn't wrong with me or society as a whole): I am just so VERY goddamn angry about my health right now. A few weeks ago I felt like I was on the way to being healthier than I have ever in my life been, nothing was wrong with me that wasn't being controlled nicely with maintenance meds (except for my eyes but, well, those at least do not HURT), and now? Well, as much as I whine on here about my health, there is plenty that I do NOT go into (largely because my ex has attempted to use my health against me in a court of law and Stalky used to go on and on accusing me of making my medical history UP, which damn, I am NOT THAT IMAGINATIVE OF A WRITER...but also because it's fucking depressing and at one point in my life I laid down in that and wallowed for a bit and it wasn't a good look so I try not to dwell on it), and as of today there are, in addition to the ENT clusterfuck y'all know about, not one but TWO (completely UNrelated, either to the ENT situation or each other) additional issues that surgeons ideally ought to address in the very near future and seriously WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK? I am SO MAD. Even if I had the money to just have this all of this taken care of in an expedient and minimally-painful manner by competent medical professionals like some kind of fancy person it would involve AT LEAST THREE OPERATIONS, one of which would temporarily have a major impact on my motherfucking MOBILITY and I am THE BREADWINNER IN MY FAMILY and can barely make my HEALTH INSURANCE premiums, nevermind afford the 20% coinsurance I'd have to pay to get this shit fixed!

*   I think the above would be enough to give just about anybody The Rage, but as is so often the case, down at the bottom of all The Rage is The Fear. Because all of the last bullet point is just logistics. There is also, time and money and pain and fury aside, the fact that of all the times--and there have been more than I can count on one hand--I have gone under the knife it has NEVER ONCE GONE ACCORDING TO PLAN. There has ALWAYS been AT LEAST one hideous complication, and most of the time it isn't even anybody's fault, and rather something no one present could have predicted or has ever even SEEN, but at the end of the day I end up going in with one problem and coming out with bone sticking out where it doesn't belong, or MRSA sepsis, or a piece of gauze erupting from my scar, or hemorrhaging, or a nearly-lethal drug reaction, or SOME GODDAMN THING to the point that it is like I am CURSED, and while I want as much as anyone in their right mind would to have these things that are currently wrong with me fixed because they hurt and also because intellectually I know that the various situations are untenable in that they will cripple me or cause me ever-increasing pain or rob me of one of my senses or possibly even my LIFE if left unaddressed IT SCARES THE HELL OUT OF ME TO CONTEMPLATE SIGNING ON FOR ANYONE TO HAVE ANOTHER GO AT ME BECAUSE MY MOTHERFUCKING LUCK SUCH AS IT IS IS SURE TO RUN OUT EVENTUALLY.

*   I don't know, y'all. The only other time in my life that I have felt so helpless, and angry, and scared, and dangerously close to straightjacket-crazy was when Little Child was a tiny baby in the hospital for weeks on end and nobody could figure out what was wrong with him. It started to mess with my mind. I started to tell myself lies like "they are only running all of these tests and doing all of these procedures because I told them he did x, y, and z and I will just TAKE IT ALL BACK and tell them I was wrong or hell that I just LIED and they will leave him ALONE!" I literally had to put poor Little Child down in the hospital crib wailing at one point and take a step back, because I wanted so badly to grab my baby and run out of there. But this time it's me. I was talking to Hotter today and saying that maybe I'd just cancel that ENT appointment Monday since I felt a LITTLE bit better and it's not like anybody with a medical license had looked in my ear so maybe I was MISTAKEN about the eardrum and Dr. Anonymous was reacting to my IMAGININGS and...he very kindly said it was up to me, which forced me to admit that that was a bad plan, but my point is that sometimes in a situation like this the ONLY way to not do something utterly stupid is to take a step back, but I can't exactly take a step back from mySELF. 

*   FuckshitcocksuckingsonofawhoregodDAMN!

*   Plus also? Steroids! LET'S GO LIFT HEAVY THINGS AND THROW THEM AT PEOPLE! WHO IS WITH ME?

people in hell just want a cold drink

*   Neurology and Transplant went well, thank goodness.

*   Things got a little hairy at the dentist, because I am sick AGAIN, like doctor-sick, and was going to cancel part of the planned work, but they are so nice they told me I could pay the rest next week. So Hotter got Phase One of the dental work done.

*   Then I went to the doctor (my actual doctor's office doctor), where things went utterly to shit: apparently I am "out of antibiotic options due to allergies" and "beyond the skillset of a general practitioner." They want me to "see a specialist" and "talk surgical options." But surgeons are specialists, which is a higher co-pay, and if I can't afford the $40 that would be, I sure as hell can't afford any of the things said specialist would do (just for shits and giggles I looked up ear tubes on Anthem's website last night and they are $800 APIECE after insurance). I could, however, give the fuck up and burst into tears on the spot for free, so that's what I went with.

*   The doctor (not MY doctor, but one of her partners), to his credit, said he would do his best to treat me given that a specialist was not currently an option and had his nurse give me a whopping big shot of steroids in the ass. He doesn't think any oral antibiotics would help me at this time, but sent me home with some steroids and says that's my best bet right now for staying comfortable and upright, but that he really thinks I need ear and possibly sinus surgery.

*   We came home to find that the refrigerator AND freezer had quit, and all of the food has to be tossed. Naturally we'd just been shopping.

*   I...don't even know what to do with this. Apparently I am seriously ill and there's no fixing it without money I don't have, and if I can't work I can't make any more money, and I don't even know what we're going to EAT when all the nonperishable stuff is gone because I had shopped to stock the pantry in advance of spending all the money on Hotter's teeth, and now that is gone. I appreciate the suggestions to try and talk to a social worker, but the thing is, we're not poor enough yet that Social Services would step in. If we get that poor, I will absolutely talk to a social worker. But first I'd have to lose my job due to being too sick to work, so...I guess give it time? Fuck me.

*   I seriously think I am losing my shit, y'all. The nurse came to give me the steroid shot and I bent over the exam table and she did her thing and then I stood up and she saw my face and was like "oh my, are you OKAY it's OVER NOW" and I was like "lady my behind is the least of my problems" and then on the way home we saw a truck with one of those metal cage-boxes in the bed full of hunting dogs and I burst into loud, open-mouthed sobs and came undone entirely. "WHY THE HELL DO PEOPLE DO THAT TO DOGS," I shrieked at the top of my lungs. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?" I don't think it was about the dogs, obviously. I think maybe until I am at least a little bit more sane or end up hospital-sick and out of work and can get some government healthcare to straighten my ass out I should get off the innernet and tend to other things. The kitchen floor, for example, is covered in blood that leaked out of the defunct freezer from all the thawed venison, and my landlord is apparently on a plane to Japan and unreachable until tomorrow. Fuck. Me.