Wednesday, September 29, 2010

I Am So Easily Tortured

I hate needles. I hate getting shots. I hate getting blood taken.
Therefore, when the barely legal lab tech says to me: "Which arm do they use when they take your blood?"
Me: "The right."
B.L. Lab Tech: "Hmmm. Do they have an easy time?"
Me: "Yes." as my arm yelps in pain from the tourniquet.
B.L. Lab Tech: "Do they ever use your left arm?"
Me: *start to panic* "Some times. But they usually use the right arm."

B.L. Lab Tech keeps pressing on my veins in my right arm. I try to breath deeply so I don't freak the hell out.

B.L. Lab Tech: "So they use the right and have an easy time of it?"
Me: "Yes." my right arm is screaming in protest now from the tourniquet. I think my skin started to separate at the contact point.

B.L. Lab Tech: "Well, I can feel two veins here, I just don't know which one to use! *giggles*
Me: *hyper ventilating* "Really???!!!"  I restrain from yelling at another nurse to come save me as she passes by in the hall.

B.L. Lab Tech: "Well, I guess we'll try this one."

Sweet Jesus, did she just say GUESS and TRY when talking about needles and veins?!?!!
I close my eyes tightly, because you know if you can't see it happening, it isn't happening, as she finally sticks the needle in my arm.
B.L. Lab Tech: "Got it!" (i think she sounded surprised.)
Me: *moments from clawing my way out of the chair* "Oh, good."
My right arm cries out in relief as she unties the tourniquet.

As much as I like to think I can Jack Bauer my way through torture, I'd never last a second if they brought out the needles.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

All I Ask.....

I have to know, really I do. Is it REALLY that difficult to drive the speed limit? Is it? I'm not asking you to speed. I'm simply asking you to do the posted speed limit.
Not 10 miles under the speed limit.  Not 35 in a 45 during rush hour. Just, 45, maybe 50. Really, please? Could you at least???


Thursday, September 09, 2010

Slow Spiral

For several months now I’ve been feeling down. I’m having a hard time finding anything to be happy about, or that I like. It started by hating my hair. Well, actually, it probably started before that. Back when, well, we found out some not so good news. My spiral started then. I’ve been wrestling with what, if anything I wanted to share here. One day, when the bad news was more than I could take, I started an entry, of sorts, that bullet pointed my experiences and feelings. I’m still not ready to share, here. Yet. But, having put it down, having it out of my head so to speak, I’m able to concentrate. I’ve been adding bullets as things happen.

Today, though, today, I just, *sigh* I just need to vent, maybe? Get things out so I can start moving past them. So please bear with me and my pity party of one.

Yes, I still hate my hair. Even though I realize that it is just not my hair, it is what my hair is sitting on top of. My head? Well yes, in a board sense, but more, my FACE. I hate my face right now. More specifically I hate how fat it is. I pass by a mirror and am shocked, Who’s the piggy? Who’s the old angry Polish woman? (I’m polish, so I can be stereotypical about my own people, right?) My double chin is double what it used to be. My skin looks horrid. Spots, break outs, wrinkles, plain old dull. My upper arms are doughy and soft, and BIG. I don’t think I’ve had wrists since I’ve meet F. I have the wrist version of cankles. Frists? I don’t know. My stomach. Lord. The bulge. The MOUND of fat. Thunder thighs? Check and check. CANKLES, sweet heaven above, I have cankles. And sausage fingers. I have fat people fingers.

My sugar is up, as is well, EVERYTHING that should be down.

I know, eat less, and move more. It is all under my control. I GET IT. And I have been trying, but I haven’t been trying as much as I should. And the weird thing? The weird thing is, is that food doesn’t sound good to me anymore, so I hardly eat, but I’m not really losing weight. Sometimes I’m not even hungry. Sometimes, the mere mention of a certain food makes me gag. Sometimes it is the smell. The other night F made chicken and I swore it smelled like fish. I could barely bring myself to eat it. Other times I get so hungry I get ill. Everything is, OFF, and I’m at a loss as to how to correct it. There are days when getting out of bed is such a challenge. If I could just sleep for a few more hours, everything would be fine. Socializing? Who wants to be bothered with that? It is too much work.

I see, I know what it is, DEPRESSION. I’ve had bouts of it before, who hasn’t? But I’ve always managed to pull myself out of it. I’ve always managed to put it behind me and move on. Nowadays I feel like I’m treading water, I’m not going anywhere. And it all starts all over again, the spiral. The sleeplessness, the over tiredness, the flat out apathy of everyday, day after day. I’m boxed in and I don’t know how to get out.

If just, IF JUST……yes, IF JUST….then it would all be better, maybe. Right? MAYBE.


Friday, September 03, 2010