0063. 5 things: Day 1

I've been horribly down lately, and I emailed my friend Tibby, who I love and adore. She suggested that I start a "five things" journal. Since I haven't used this in a while, I figure that posting my Five Things would be a good move. Five Things is where I psot 5 good things about my day, every day. This is day 1.

1. I managed to get my house picked up.
2. I spent time with Monkey.
3. I made delicious hamburgers that were just a tad on the spicy side. PK loved them.
4. PK came home early and wants to spend time together.
5. I didn't have to go to clinicals today.

0058. I'm tired and irritated.

I've had so much going on in the past few weeks that I haven't had time to do much else besides... well, everything that I've had to do. School has been keeping me so busy that I want to cry. Literally. I have 4 exams when I get back from Spring Break next week. I had 1 exam the week before. I have exams at clinicals any time a good patient walks through the door and my fellow classmates don't snatch up the paperwork first. And it's ALWAYS LIKE THIS. It seems like the minute we're done with a round of exams, we're starting on another. I'm stressing so bad over school that my hair is starting to fall out (more of it is coming out while I'm in the shower than what I'm used to and it's kind of freaking me out, if I'm honest). I had my first fever blister in well over a year, which I only get when I'm stressed and/or not sleeping, so that should give you some idea of how things are going on the stress level.

And speaking of stress. I know PK doesn't like me talking about him online, but this is my personal journal, and this is where I go to vent. Surprisingly, this time I'm not actually venting about him, so much as because of him (if that makes sense?) He's been working his ass off. He goes in early and doesn't get home until after 8:00 most nights. There have been several nights that he's gotten home well after Monkey has gone to bed (at 8:30) and he usually goes immediately to bed himself because he's so exhausted. He's been working himself into the freaking ground, and I've slowly been getting more and more worried about him because on the rare occasion that he is home, all he ever wants to do is sleep. Which, don't get me wrong, I totally understand why. He's working hard. He's stressed because of everything he has to do at work (which I won't discuss here, because that's his business and not mine). I've been trying to get him to relax a little more, eat healthier, maybe even try to get up and walk (if not exercise outright), because he has a pre-existing heart condition. Even with that, it still didn't cross my mind that he'd call me while I was in class 2 weeks ago to tell me he that he thought he was having a heart attack and to come get him so that I could take him to the ER. I was all for calling an ambulance, but Mr Stubborn Ass decided he'd work for another hour or so and then drive his stupid ass home so that we could leave his car at the house. For that alone, I might have to beat him senseless. I finally managed to get him to the ER, and he ended up spending the entire weekend in the hospital. I somehow managed to not be in the room every time the doctor came in (usually getting Monkey from my mom's house so she could visit with her dad - the doctor kept really strange hours), so I never really got the straight facts on what was going on. PK has a way of hiding things from me so that I don't completely freak out. He won't outright admit it to me, but it was a minor heart attack. He's now taking steps to reduce stress (he's been coming home at 6:00 and we've actually been getting along better than ever), he's playing with Monkey outside, he's helping me fix up the house... But he's still got all this other stuff stressing him out and I don't know how to help him. I want to take all the outside stress in his life and just make it go away. If I have to see my husband in the hospital again because his stress level went through the roof and his heart couldn't handle it... well, I might end up going postal, because my stress level can't handle it. We just celebrated our one year anniversary. We're talking about the possibility of having a baby once I'm done with school. I'd like the chance for a few more anniversaries and maybe a babyKitty of our own.

And now that I've completely depressed myself. Let me rile myself back up for a minute before I run off to make dinner.

I've been busting my ass for the past three days to clean my house top to bottom, organizing every room in the house (including the rooms we haven't unpacked yet because PK has to build bookshelves for my library and office, as well as get a new desk since the one we currently have it TINY, and bring the bed over from the old condo/storage unit so that we can properly set up the guest bedroom, and put up shelves in Monkey's room and hang her TV on the wall so that she has more room to play), doing all the laundry, scrubbing bathrooms and the kitchen and whatever else I could find to scrub with BLEACH (it smells clean and fresh and all that) because it's Spring Break and my mom and 3 of my aunts were coming over either tomorrow or Friday for lunch. I finally got in touch with the aunt we all consider the "matriarch" of the family, and she tells me "Stop cleaning!" (I'd texted her to tell her I was cleaning up the house and I was going to head to the store later) Then she tells me that another one of my aunts doesn't want to come this week because her grandkids (who live with her) are on Spring Break, and she wants to wait to have lunch until they're back in school.... Except the only reason I'm able to have lunch with them in the first place is because I'm on Spring Break! Apparently they've all forgotten that I'm a full time student and in school ALL THE FREAKING TIME. And when I'm not in school, I'm at study group or at clinicals. And hello? Since when do I not have a kid with a room full of toys and a TV and a backyard and a front yard with other kids their age? I mean seriously! My mom knew I was cleaning the shit out of my house. My uncle knew I was cleaning the shit out of my house. My aunt surely knew, because I go insane every time she comes over (remember the part where she's the matriarch of our family?) but I haven't been able to talk to her because every time I call her she's unavailable and she never freaking calls me back!!! I'm irritated, and to be quite honest, I'm a little bit hurt.

I have to go make dinner for the Monkey now. She's bitching at me that she's starving, despite the fact that she's eaten almost everything I have in the pantry today. She must be hitting another growth spurt.

0057. feels like every time i get back on my feet [trouble] come around & knock me down again

iTunes: Trouble - Ray La Montagne

Mood: tired, irritated, frustrated, done

Today wasn't bad. It really wasn't. I slept in a little bit, but still managed to make it to school on time. I was sleepy, but I didn't fall asleep in class. I understood what was going on (for the most part - I have a lot of studying to do this weekend). When we had a tutoring session with the director of the xray program (who is also our Principles of Radiographic Imaging II teacher), I actually understood what was going on. So, the morning wasn't bad I guess.

I had an appointment at the VA today, and driving up there is always crappy because it's a 40 minute drive (one way). I'm already really tired, and long drives tend to put me in a coma so I spend the whole drive up there and back either singing at the top of my lungs or on the phone.

The appointment I had today was for my Well Woman appointment, which is always super fun. They have a special clinic just for us chicks so that we don't have to deal with being around men while we're going to have special girl time, which I like. Unfortunately, I learned today that they're taking this option away and I'll be having my next WW appointment with my Primary Care doctor. I don't like that option so much. See, my doc is a female, but I don't always see her because she's busy. Sometimes I see a resident, and occasionally that resident is a male... and I have PTSD... that doesn't allow me to be comfortable around males (I'm honestly surprised that I'm married). Anyway. When I went into the room for my exam, one of the Primary Care docs was there to "brush up" on his Well Woman technique and I instantly froze up. My hands started shaking and I'm pretty sure I forgot how to breathe. My OB/GYN noticed and sent him out while I was changing, but the damage was done. To top it off, there's an issue with my cervix that's sending me to the Gyno specialist.

Really, the appointment wasn't that bad. I've had far worse, I assure you.

I went home after and it was early enough that Monkey was still in school so I took a little (much needed) nap. After I picked her up, she started talking, and didn't stop until I put her to bed 2 minutes ago. PK came home feeling grumpy and crappy and in an all around bad mood. I'm stressing out about money and school and everything else going on in my life. I'm ready to be done with it all and I've got SO MUCH MORE LEFT. I know 4 1/2 semesters may not seem like a lot, but when you're this burned out, it really fucking is.

I took half of a Valium earlier and I hope to God it kicks in soon because I need to not care right now. Or just be chill. Or something. I just need to chill. PK wants me to go into the bedroom and watch the fucking Godfather ("the best movie of all time!") but I don't like it so I'm procrastinating. It's not like I don't have 16,000 other things to do any way, but still. I need to spend time with my husband.

0054. confused and irritated

iTunes: none - watching Big Bang Theory

Mood: confused, irritated, sad, and yet still have a bit of happy thrown in there.

So I'll start out with the bad and go to the good.

First: PK's out of town on business. This makes me sad. Why? Well, he's my husband and I love him, for one. And sleeping without him next to me isn't easy. For whatever reason, I've become used to the chainsaw buzzing that is his snoring, and it's even soothing to me. I know, I'm weird. I am happy that he went to this conference, because it means more opportunities for him at work (which will hopefully lead to him getting a nice raise, lol) and it means more contacts in his industry. So, I know that this trip will be good for him, business-wise, but personally.... it sucks. I miss my PK.

I'm confused and irritated because of stuff that happened in school. See, there's this guy in my class from last semester, who suddenly stopped talking to me. Like, flat out refused to talk to me. I never knew what it was that I did, but there were times when he was just plain RUDE to me in his desire to avoid speaking to me. I've always been nice to him, because I'm usually pretty nice to everyone. I don't like confrontation, so in an effort to avoid it, I'm a nice as I can be to everyone. Anyway. One of my friends from clinic this semester is in lab with this guy. My friend told me that the guy was talking to another girl in our class, one who I thought I was at least on acquaintance terms with, if not friendly, but I guess I was wrong... the guy was telling the girl that I'm crazy and rude and so my friend asks why they think that. The guy says that he doesn't like me because I'm "bipolar and psycho" and he asks the other girl (who is in my classes with me - the guy and my friend are in the other group of students, so we don't have classes together... it's a little confusing, I know) if I'm "as bad as [I] was last semester", and she actually said I was worse! I'm so confused, because I don't really talk much in class, if ever. I have a paralyzing fear that whatever I say will be wrong. When my friend stepped in to defend me, telling them that I'm nice, they told her that she must be a psycho too.

What the fuck?? How dare they pick on me about the fact that I'm bipolar. No, I don't try to hide it. I'm proud of the fact that I've got my issues under control. I'm medicated and staying that way. I'm going to therapy. At least I'm trying to work through my shit. Most people ignore it until it's a big fucking problem and it destroys them or someone else. So why am I psycho for it? I think I'm actually the opposite of psycho, thank you very little. And how the fuck am I rude??? I'm all peaches and cream, smiling and shit at school. At home might be a little different (I once told my BFF that I used up all my nice during the day at school, and at one point I thought I might've been serious about it)

I shouldn't worry so much about it. It's just drama I don't need and I really did have a good day today. I shot a lot of x-rays today and had some really awesome patients. I did see my first trauma though, which was... well, it was kind of traumatic, actually. I can't talk about the specifics of my patients' cases, but the trauma I saw today was an attempted suicide. Look like the patient will be ok, but it was so heart-breaking to see.

I also shot my first pediatric x-rays today... three different pediatric patients, actually! My first one was a little girl who needed a chest and 2 abdomen x-rays. She was younger than Monkey and so quiet. She just stood there, stock-still, and staring up at us. I gave her stickers because she was such a great patient. My next two pediatric patients were just as awesome. And they weren't my only good patients - I had several older patients (ok, everyone's older than the pediatric patients, lol) who were just fantastic.

So really, other than finding out about the two assholes in my class, I had a really good day. And I'm not going to let them bring me down. This is going to be a good semester, dammit! :)

0026. I hate my cats. Still.

I've never really been what you'd call a cat person. In fact, I sort of hate them. But I got Stinky for Monkey anyway, because I felt she needed an animal to grow up with, and a dog is out of the question because we live in a small condo with no yard for the dog to run in. At the time we got Stinky, I didn't know that PK was going to move in with us, because he'd been hemming and hawing over us officially living together for a while. While I'm over the moon that PK finally did move in with us, I'm not-so-ecstatic that the animals came with. Obviously.

Remember my I Haz Anger post? I hand-wrote an "I Haz Anger... Part 2" post the other night. To sum up (because the hand-written post is about 5 pages long): the cats pooped on Monkey's comforter. A few days later, I accidentally locked them in my room and they pooped and peed on my comforter, which is too large for me to put in the washing machine, so I had to take it to the laundromat. The day I got the comforter from the laundromat, they peed on Monkey's bed.

If you remember from my last post, I've been having some serious anger issues lately. I had all sorts of fantasies about how I was going to kill the cats. Antifreeze in their drinking water. Letting them out of the house. Running them over with my car. Throwing them out the window... I'm not a violent person normally, but this is getting out of control and I don't know what to do.

PK won't let me get rid of the animals. Any of them. Even though Tessa sits in her cage all the time, never played with, rarely talked to, and making a mess for me to clean up - because even though she's PK's bird, I'm the one who feeds, waters, and cleans up after her. The same goes for the cats (although PK does play with the cats a lot - they're his babies). I'm the one who feeds and cleans up after them.

And how fair is that?? Why is is that I'm the one taking care of them? They're not mine. I don't want them. And yet I'm saddled with the responsibility of keeping them alive & happy. If I had it my way, they'd be given to good homes or sold (in Tessa's case... she's worth about $3,000).

Per TwiMom227's suggestion, I'm going to write a letter to PK, stating my feelings on the situation and asking for a peaceful (and fair) resolution. The one thing I have to say though... if Ditto continues to use anything but the litterbox as his place to pee, he's got to go. I cannot and will not allow him to remain here if he does. It's not sanitary and I refuse to put my child (and myself) in that kind of living situation. Not to mention the risk of toxoplasmosis...

I had Monkey's carpet professionally cleaned today. The guy who did the room said that the smell might come back, because the carpet was fairly saturated in urine, and because it's especially acidic, it's likely already gone through the padding and is possibly starting to eat at the concrete below (cat urine is acidic, concrete is alkaline. mixing the two is not good juju). I'm going to call the landlord and ask him if we're allowed to rip out the carpet and replace it with something else. I'm thinking wood flooring, since carpet sucks. We already have to replace the wood flooring in front of the bathroom because the asshole Ditto used that for his bathroom before he discovered Monkey's room.

God, I hate my cats.

0024. I can admit when I'm being childish

So my last post was written while fairly drunk and in the middle of a tantrum. I admit that sometimes I can be a bit of a child. I'm 27, not 17. I sometimes have trouble remembering that.

The thing is, with how severe my social anxiety is, I don't want to go out often. PK has routinely told me that I've changed his entire lifestyle because he used to go out all the time and now he never goes out. Of course he gives himself away when I actually want to go somewhere and he tells me that he wants to stay home because he's "so tired" and he "never [gets] to stay home and relax because [he] never [has] time off".

Yes, I know that he works hard and often. I understand that. But why is it only when I want to go out that he's too tired for it? And why is it the things that I want to do that he's tired of (going to a bar in the area - i.e. Maribel's, Scout Bar, Monkey Bar, etc).

Maybe I'm still in the middle of my childish tantrum.

While I'm ranting... We had a "pow-wow" at work yesterday wherein we were told that we all need to help each other out. I found this a bit amusing, since my job entails filing, voicemail, whatever Boss Lady needs in the office, and backing the guys up because they're out front with students. I'd say about 85% of my time is spent in the front or standing in the office helping the guys because they know nothing.

The 2 new guys, I can totally understand why they need help. They've been here less than a month, they're bound to have a few questions here & there. But Lazy has been with us for MONTHS and he still routinely has to ask the most basic simple questions there are! And he made a comment on how the filing wasn't done Thursday afternoon. I'm sorry, would that be the day that we were so busy I didn't even have time to eat lunch? The day that I pick my kid up from school and have to RUN out the door? Yes, I believe so. And he also brought up a day where he asked me a question & I told him that I had to leave. That was on another Tuesday or Thursday. He claims it was 10 minutes before I had to leave, and yet I've routinely been late picking Monkey up because I've been too busy helping his stupid lazy ass out and taking care of students to leave right at 3:00.

I cannot tell you how many times I've told them that if I'm not OUT THE DOOR RIGHT AT 3:00 that I will be late to pick her up. And how many times I've left at 3:05, even as late at 3:10. I don't like it when Monkey is the last kid picked up. I don't like it when it's evident that she's been crying when I pick her up because she thinks Mommy has forgotten her. So fuck you for being upset that I told you I'm leaving and don't have time to answer your stupid ass question. Fuck you twice for implying that I said it 10 minutes before leaving because that shit has NEVER HAPPENED, Mr "I'm out 15 minutes before my shift is actually over".

Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that? He leaves early. Every day. And he laughs about it! He even left me by myself on a Friday when the entire office was closing at 5:00. We do NOT leave before 5:00 because the Big Boss Lady (the one who's in charge of the entire office) gets pissed if we close our doors one second before 5:00. But our boss was out that day and he & I were the only ones there. He told me that his clock said it was 5:00, so he was leaving. I told him we don't go by our personal clocks, that we go by the one in the office and even then, we don't leave until all the students are gone and/or we've been given permission by TBBL to leave. He left anyway. I should've reported it to our boss, but I didn't because he was new and I didn't want to throw him under the bus like that.

But now? Oh, I can't wait for the first Greyhound to pass by because his ass is getting tossed directly in the line of fire.

0017. I lost my iPhone, there's no music

iTunes: none. Can't find my phone & too lazy to pull up the program on the laptop

Mood: tired as fuck

I had stuff to talk about. Lots of stuff. I've been blogging in my head all day. But by the time I got home today (at 7-fucking-PM), I was so tired that I could barely stand long enough to make dinner. Thank God I made sloppy joes for PK & Monkey tonight. Those are super easy and quick to make. After I made grub, I drank my protein shake, took my meds, and laid my head down in PK's lap while he sat on the couch... and promptly fell asleep.

I didn't get to sleep too long. Monkey kept asking for more tater tots and trying to get up from the table, so it wasn't easy to stay asleep. That's ok. I don't need to sleep on the couch. Last time I did, I hurt my neck and the last thing I need is to hurt my neck again.

If you don't read the Twitloss blog, I've started a 2 week cleansing diet called Nu-Lean in conjunction with the Phentermine (appetite suppressant) pills. It's very strict, but it'll clean out my system of toxins and flush out my liver and upper GI tract of all the crap I dump into it. I can only eat a few raw almonds, water-filled vegetables (i.e. cucumber, celery, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, lettuce, cabbage...) and baked chicken or fish (no butter, no salt). I drink a TON of water, take a boatload of vitamins, quick fat burn tablets, and protein shakes. It's only for 2 weeks, but it'll supposedly make me feel better and help me to lose weight faster. I need to get over this stupid 190lb hurdle.

I updated my Kindle with an eARC from one of my absolute most favorite authors (MEGAN HART!) and am now ready to fall flat on my face. I think I'm gonna head to bed in order to prevent breaking my nose or giving myself a black eye. Nini.

0015. I haz anger.

iTunes: nothing

Mood: pissed the hell off

We have 2 cats named Stinky & Ditto. They may seem cute & cuddly, but in reality, they're devil cats sent straight from the pits of hell to annoy me to death.

The thing is, I don't really like cats. I hate them, actually. I never really have been an animal person, but in the last 7 or 8 years, I've really gotten to the point where I loathe those little asshole balls of fur who exist to piss me off.

It started with the cats my roommate Nerf & I had. Their names were Harm & Mac (yes, we named them after the characters from JAG). We didn't have the money to get them fixed, so Harm started spraying the apartment. Mac decided to follow his lead and she started peeingeverywhere. I ended up getting rid of them and paying to have the carpet cleaned, but it was so bad that the apartment complex had to replace the carpets, the padding, and have the concrete below it cleaned.

This makes me seem like I'm not a clean person. I am. I have OCD and I routinely bleach everything in the house. If it doesn't smell like bleach, it doesn't smell clean to me and that makes me insane (told you - OCD). On weekends, I've been known to get in the corners with a bucket of bleach water & clean the baseboards with a toothbrush. I blame my mom for making us do this when we were kids, but I also thank her for it,because my house is spotless. And I usually get my security deposit back when I move (obviously, I didn't in the other place).

When PK moved in, Ditto came as part of the package. He had another cat named Sam as well, and I really loved him (he was more like a dog than a cat, and he was cool as hell), but he died shortly after they moved in from heart disease. Ditto is friendly, but he's definitely PK's cat. He climbs into PK's lap when he gets home, and sneaks up to PK's face to try and get kisses from him. It's really cute to watch, actually.

Because I wasn't sure if PK was going to move in or not (at the time) and I wanted Monkey to have a pet to grow up with, I got Stinky from my mom (Monkey re-named him... he used to be Gibbs -from NCIS- but when he moved here, his food got changed to indoor cat food, and his tummy didn't adjust right away... Monkey said he was STINKY! and it stuck).

So now, I'm stuck with 2 cats. And a bird (her name's Tessa. She's relatively cool, except for the fact that she tosses her food out on the floor all around her cage... and her cage smells weird, even right after I clean it out -- birds are gross).

The reason why I haz anger? Last week (the week before?), when PK was at rehearsal, I was hanging around the house. I was on the phone with my cousin MamaDee when I decided I was going to head into my room to watch my shows. When I walked into my room, I noticed that it smelled pretty strongly of poo in there. The bathroom connects to our bedroom, so I went to close the door while whichever asshole was in there could finish & cover it up with the entirely too expensive cat litter I have to buy every week. But the odor didn't leave when I closed the door.

I walked over to my side of the bed so that I could take off my jewelry before launching an investigation as to where the hell the smell was coming from. And that's when I saw it. Stinky was sitting on my bed... next to a fresh pile of dung.

Even though I was still on the phone with MamaDee, I started freaking out. I screamed at the cat (who promptly RAN out of the bedroom) and started gagging (I don't do well with poop - it's gross). Then I started crying because a) there's poop on my bed b) I don't have any clean sheets and c) I'd just cleaned out the litter box. I scoop it out daily, but I replace the litter at least once a week. Like I said before: OCD.

So, I hung up the phone, picked up the nasty & flushed it, then set about the task of washing both sets of sheets so that we'd have something to sleep on. I called my mom and cried. I called Jaime and cried (sorry about that - I'm a whackjob, I know). And then I put on my big girl panties and dealt with it. Of course, I kicked the little bastards out of my room and haven't allowed them back in since, but that's beside the point.

When PK got home, I calmly told him what happened, and then told him I couldn't handle it anymore. There's no reason for either cat to be shitting on our bed. There's even less reason for Ditto to be peeing on the wall by the bathtub or by the main door to the bathroom (I've caught him doing it).

I have anger issues sometimes. I may have a long fuse, but once my temper blows, it's explosive and you don't want to be in the way when I go off. And when I saw that pile on my bed, I saw RED. I imagined throwing the little fucker out the window and praying he hit something on the way down (we live on the 2nd floor). I've imagined kicking them clear across the room. I would NEVER harm an animal that way, but I've certainly imagined it.

I've been asking PK for a few months now to fix Monkey's door. It doesn't latch properly, and the cats sneak in there at night. It's cute when they want to sleep with her, but when I was leaving her closet door open all the time, they took it upon themselves to pee in there. I borrowed my mom's steam cleaner to clean the carpet in there, and started closing the door. I thought that was the end of it.

I was wrong.

Tonight, Monkey was being difficult and didn't want to go to eat her dinner. We've been having issues with her not wanting to eat unless it's chicken nuggets, hamburgers, or mac & cheese, so we sent her to bed without anything else. I always feel bad when I do it, but if she doesn't learn, she'll never eat what she's given.

Anyway. We sent her to her room to put on her jammies. She kissed PK good night & I told her to climb into her bed and I'd be there in a minute for prayers & to tuck her in (I was cleaning up the kitchen from dinner). She went into her room and shouted "Mooooommmmm! There's pee on my bed!" I immediately thought she'd accidentally wet the bed, although there wasn't anything there this morning, and she hasn't done that for months. So, I went in there and she pointed to a yellowish stain on her white down comforter. I leaned down to smell it, and sure enough, it was cat urine.

WHAT THE FUCK?

Then, she pointed to her (closed) closet door and says "Mommy, there's poop!" And I immediately yell for PK because I'm livid again.

He comes into her room, sees the pee on her bed and the poop by her closet, and immediately walks out again. At first, I'm pissed because he's not dealing with it, but then he comes back in with a toolbox and starts working on her door to keep the little fucks out of there. He tried his best, but wasn't able to fix it tonight. He's going to have to get a file and a chisel and work on it.

And yeah, I'm happy that he's finally working on it, but I asked him to fix her door or to teach me how to do it months ago. He used to tell me that he likes the fact that the cats go in to sleep with her at night and that's why he wasn't fixing it, but honestly... I think he was just being lazy. And that pisses me off too. Because if he hadn't been lazy, the asshole cats wouldn't have been able to defile her room.

I want to get rid of the stupid fucking cats and never have to deal with them again. But I can't. Because they're not mine, and PK & Monkey love them. I will say this though - when they die, that's it. No more cats. No more birds. No dogs. No guinea pigs. No hampsters. MAYBE we'll get some fish. But I refuse to get any more animals that I'm going to have to take care of (when I don't even like the stupid things!) and are going to make a big fucking mess.

Edit: Yes, I know it's kind of funny that they pooped on my bed. It's disgusting, but it's funny. I can see that through the haze of anger. But it's disgusting, unsanitary, and just plain wrong, so I reserve the right to be livid.

0013. weight, diet, exercise, blah.

I don't look good this heavy. I don't feel good this heavy. So rather than just whining about it, I'm going to do something about it. I went to the doctor and got back on Phentermine and am opting to take the B12 + Lipo shots (http://looseweightez.com) under a doctor's supervision, of course. I'm also getting ready to buy an elliptical machine to stick in my living room and use while I'm watching TV. Aaaand, I'm starting to do my menus again. This one has 10 days on it. I just bought a crock pot, so I'm going to Google some healthy crockpot recipes and go crazy with it.

Tuesday October 5, 2010
hot dogs -- last night of "freedom"

Wednesday October 6, 2010
baked fish & "chips"

Thursday October 7, 2010
Vegetable meatloaf & garden potato salad

Friday October 8, 2010
pot roast & veggies

Saturday October 9, 2010
sausage & peppers

Sunday October 10, 2010
shrimp scampi

Monday October 11, 2010
curried chicken & rice soup

Tuesday October 12, 2010
chicken & mushroom quesadillas

Wednesday October 13, 2010
pork & rice (PK's recipe)

Thursday October 14, 2010
three cheese macaroni w/turkey breast

Friday October 15, 2010
chicken-zucchini alfredo (might substitute shrimp instead)

0010. it's so hot and i need some air

I posted over at the Twitloss blog today, and kind of went way off in the other direction of what I usually post. Why? Because I've got heavy stuff on my mind and I had something to say.

My friend, who I'll call Smith (he works with PK as a locksmith) was diagnosed with cancer a couple months ago and underwent brain surgery to remove a tumor on the 1st of this month. He is not the first person I've met with cancer... I actually shared a womb with someone who had cancer.

My twin was diagnosed with Burkitt's Lymphoma when we were 3 years old and spent the next year at Texas Children's Hospital. I lived with my maternal grandparents at the time, because my parents were divorced and my mom was living at the hospital with Twin. He's been in remission and "cancer free" for the past 24 years (praise God and hallelujah!), but he's just the first in a long line of people that I know who have had cancer:

• maternal grandmother (died)
• maternal grandfather (died)
• paternal grandmother (died)
• paternal grandfather (in remission)
• maternal aunt (died)
• maternal great aunt (died)
• paternal uncle (in remission)

This is just the list I can think of off the top of my head, and doesn't count the family members with skin cancer. That list should basically say "everyone on my mom's side of the family" because pretty much everyone has had something removed/burned off. This is why I'm terrified of the sun and have SPF in everything - makeup, lotion, lipstick, chapstick, etc.

This is also why I am super fucking paranoid about my health and my daughter's health. I don't want to take risks with either one of us. They used to make fun of me in the military for going to the doctor all the time, but because I have such a thoroughly documented medical record, I get 70% disability and free healthcare (for my service-connected disabilities) through the VA. My daughter didn't lose her hearing when her ear infections got so bad that they required surgery... twice. So yes, I fully advocate going to the doctor when you're sick and getting regular yearly physicals. That's actually how Smith was diagnosed - his doctor refused to refill his blood pressure medication without a full physical, and he found a lump on Smith's lymph nodes in his neck.

Smith is doing really well, and I'm happy to say that as of this morning, he was due to be released today. I know he's ready to be at home and to start the long road ahead of him (chemo and radiation). He's a strong person and a wonderful guy. I'm praying that the treatment works fast and that he's healed quickly.

Even though he's doing as well as he is, it was really hard for me to see him in the hospital last night. I'm not used to seeing Smith in any capacity other than having fun and living a full happy life. Add that to the fact that hospitals are kind of traumatizing for me (when people I care about are being treated... not when I'm working there - for those that are worried about my decision the be a nurse), and by the time I got home last night, I think I cried about 2 gallons AND I called almost everyone I know that smokes and begged them to quit (including my mother, my cousin, and PK).

PK's at rehearsal tonight, so I'm going to cuddle with Monkey for a little while, then I'm going to do some much-needed studying. Hopefully reading about Texas History, Government, and Medical Terminology will get my mind off of things. I'm pretty sure it'll put me to sleep. LOL.


iTunes: Britney Spears - Breathe on me
Mood: pensive & a little sad

0008. nothing about you is typical

iTunes: Britney Spears - Unusual You
Mood: irritated

We got a call at 1:00am saying that one of our friends had been involved in an accident. This friend has had his share of accidents, so I'm sorry to say that we weren't incredibly surprised. In fact, he's nearly killed PK twice in a matter of months. They were in such a bad accident that PK broke his chest. Yes. His chest. It's possible to do, I promise.

Our friend is ok, which also isn't much of a shock. He's never the one that gets hurt when he tears off in his suped up car. We're waiting on information about our other friend who was in the car. The last we heard, he was bleeding out of his ears and being taken to the hospital.

PK and I have been talking about the friend who was driving and have decided that Monkey will never ride in the car with him. Neither will I. PK is a grown man who is capable of making his own decisions, and sometimes he does get into the car with our friend, but he's always scared to do so... so most of the time, he insists that he (PK) drive instead. I've let my younger brother ride home with our friend a few times, but I'll be refusing that offer next time, despite the fact that they only live down the street from each other.

It's not that I don't like or trust our friend. I just don't trust his driving. He's reckless and doesn't care about anyone except himself. I'm very close to one of his daughters, and I'm terrified that I'm going to have to hold her while she cries when he kills himself or someone else.

PK has tried to talk to our friend. His parents have talked to him. His friends have talked to him. I don't think that me saying something would help if everyone else hasn't helped. This accident was minor, and apparently his car doesn't even have that much damage. But he and another friend spent the night in the hospital because of his recklessness and hotrodding. And he laughed about it this morning when he talked to PK! "Oh, I don't remember why the accident happened. But I do know that my car isn't really that messed up..." He doesn't remember having the accident, but he knows the exact damage done to his car? Sorry, I don't buy it. He just doesn't want to admit that he fucked up again and that he was being stupid and dangerous and could have killed someone.

He hasn't yet. But if he doesn't pull his shit together SOON I'm afraid that he will.