Memoirs of a Nobody

Mum goes in for neck surgery on the third (she has a broken neck), instead of spending the day paniking as normal...

I'm on the Build a Bear Website, creating a blue coloured bear for her (her favorite colour, her favorite species, and her favorite store). I just wish I could go up to Eugene and build her an actual bear, but I'm sure the factory workers will put some love into it for me.

...now to stop trying to build a Hannah Montana bear to go with my Lola Tiger (yes, I themed my tiger from build a bear after Lola on Hannah Montana, I'm such a spazz).

I saw the ENT the other day (my hearing's getting worse and the ringing in my ears is actually getting painful)...he couldn't fix any of that (he claims my hearings perfect...maybe because the audiology exam is geared towards that, but that's a different issue), and unfortunately he confirmed something I really, really didn't want to hear.

My balance will never come back, and will in fact (as I've noticed) get worse.

Which means any thoughts of going back into gymnastics or dancing (even as an amateur), riding a bike (bicycle or motorcycle), basically anything really that requires balance, is lost to me. Which kind of crushes a few dreams. I always wanted to take up gymnastics and dance again, re-learn what was once muscle memory and pick up where I left off...

...And I always dreamed about owning a Harley. Granted, I can own one, but unless said Harley comes with training wheels, it won't be going anywhere.

So, that's that.

The technology has not caught up enough to reverse Meneres Disease yet, and I will probably not be a candidate by the time it has.

I've always had poor balance thanks to my inner ears (also the reason I get carsick), but now that it's getting worse, it's kind of sad, all the things I won't be able to do anymore. And just to give you an example, I can't even do a handstand (my balance says I'm straight, but I'm not), nor can I do a cartwheel properly, I end up off course (diagonal or falling over instead of straight). It's those small things you miss.

I would give up a lot, just to do a cartwheel...

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

we can have a combined monthly income of 13,700$ and not pay the bills on time?! Seriously, it should not be this fucking hard!

And mum’s “brilliant” new plan? She’s going to sell the house, and we’re going to move into apartments.

EXCUSE ME?!

First of all, we worked out ASSES off for this house. We paid it off once, and yes, things are a bit tight at the moment, but we usually manage to survive. I am NOT willing to give up 16 years and my fucking FUTURE so that she can play happy renter and line someone else’s pocket.

I will not leave this house until I am dead or we have sold it at a decent price for a NEW house, not some crappy apartment, thank you very much.

She had this whole thing where she would sell the house to a guy for 100,000$ up front and payments for the rest…except, she’s not realizing, after paying off the morgage (which, I don’t recall how much it is, but it’s not 100,000)….that’s a nice fucking down payment on a new house, plus, if the guy’s making payments…we don’t have to! His payments can be re-directed directly to the morgage of said new house.

Logic is not my mother’s fortay at the moment.

She’s also finally thinking about allowing me to become her payee…though she keeps changing that. Last night I went from becoming her payee, to splitting the bills down the center, to…whatever the fuck she’s come up with overnight. She can’t make up her mind, and we just keep getting further behind because she can’t manage her money (and yes, I can take her to court and get power of…whatever it is over money, but doing so would involve my family, because they always stick their noses into shit, and there is no way I’m letting my money grubbing, controling bastard of an uncle anywhere NEAR our money. Ours! No touchy!).

…I’m getting so fucking tired of this mess. I will admit it, I want out. I can’t say that to my mother because she’ll go ahead with her asanine plans and get rid of the only asset we have and I DON’T want that…but I’m so tired of all this crap. I’m tired of having every cent of my money being taken for bills she should have paid. I’m tired of opening the door to servicemen who are there to shut off one utility or the other. I’m tired of never knowing if I’m going to have electricity, water or heat the next morning. I’m REALLY fucking sick of paying 500$ rent (out of 680$ income) and then having to be -300$ in my bank account because if I don’t overdraft my account, I’m going to lose something…like the electricity last month…I’m also tired of being overdrafted by 300$ and still expected to pay 500$ rent the next month (hello mum! One cannot make 800$ out of 680!)

And it’s not just the money, I’m tired of being abused. I’m tired of being yelled at or bad mouthed because I can’t get out of bed and clean up the living room her dog tore up. I’m tired of being left alone when I’m violently ill so my mother can go spend the day at a place that makes her cry when she gets home (and I’m really fucking tired of her crying every day…it’s not her fault, but damn does it hurt me). I’m tired of my needs always coming last.

…maybe I’m just tired.

My mother and I got into a blazing row last week about how I was being ‘lazy’ and I’m always sick and that she’s doesn’t want to hear about it anymore since I don’t do anything around the house. Rather funny…for someone so lazy, I now have a home healthcare worker who will come to work for 50hrs a month to help me get around the house, bathe, eat, ect. Apparently the goverment and my doctors are seeing actual medical conditions, not ‘laziness’.

Grandmere managed to ruin another holiday, though I guess I can’t blame her this time. Just as we were going to start the BBQ for the fourth…life alert called us to tell us she was being rushed to the hospital. No idea what’s going on except that she’s waiting on a surgery…I’m sort of surprised she’s lasted this long, but I doubt it’ll be much longer.

…I still don’t know how I feel about the fact she may soon be very much out of my life. I mean, I’ve wanted it for years, prayed for it, but now…she’s my grandmother, even if she is the most wicked, evil, spiteful woman I have ever met.

I think the stress of Grandmere is what’s pushing my mother over the edge right now…and while I understand that, it’s still not making it a very happy place when I have to take all the bitching and fighting and…everything, just because she needs to lash out.

Sometimes…I wish I could just run away. Disappear and have my own life. But I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t leave my mother. For one thing, I’m too damn scared of what she’d do if I’m not around to keep her going…and for the other…I love her, despite the constant stress.

In utterly un-related news, I’ve discovered I can’t be without ciggerettes right now. I ran out hours ago and have not stopped scratching my arm since. Only, since I don’t have nails, I’ve been scratching at it with a toothpick. It’s all red and irritated.

I hope mum’s check comes in the mail today…maybe she’ll buy me a pack of smokes (while they’re still on sale for 2.75!)… *hopeful look at the mail*

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Amusing things overheard in the ER:

“Sir, we have your wheelchair, now please put your penis away.”

Also, mum’s going to yell at her doctor tomorrow for telling her for years that if she doesn’t quit smoking she’s going to die, when two days after she quits she ends up in the Emergency Room. Thankfully just for her breathing, turns out she wasn’t having the heart attack we feared.

Also turns out, I’m not allowed to follow behind mum’s ambulance anymore after I almost crashed into it due to not paying attention.

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

As this post contains information of a medical and personal nature, I’m cutting it early.

( TMI Warning )

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

So mum goes in for her sugery tomorrow. At last count, she had a 20% chance of survival, which means there’s a 70% chance that I’m going to be burrying my mother sometime within the next three days.

Is it any wonder I’m stressed beyond all reason?

My mother brought someone in to help her after the surgery and this woman is driving me absolutely insane. She won’t leave me alone, constantly bothering me with questions or comments. I just…want to be alone to work and distract myself and I don’t really give a fuck if she’s going to the store or bed…heck, I don’t give a fuck in the slightest about ANYTHING she’s doing, yet I constantly know because SHE. WON’T. LEAVE. ME. ALONE!

ARG!

And if she gives me another disapproving look I’m going to deck her I swear to the GODS.

In other news, my grandmother is losing her bloody mind due to kidney failure. She’s currently in the hospital on dialasis, and when she first got there, she thought she was in a church (though, to her credit…it’s rather hard to tell the diffrence considering it’s a catholic hospital and you can’t escape that fact), also, she called my mother the next day claiming she was being kidnapped and to get the police down there (she has access to a phone, I’m just rather thankful she didn’t actually call the police).

Anyway, my Uncles are here (well, two of them, apparently the rest of the family has willfully forgotten I have three uncles). My uncle Micheal (the rich one), is currently ‘locking down’ all of my grandmother’s belongings. It’s rather…well it’s partially amusing and partially annoying, as he does this so he can later take control of the estate when someone dies (he did this with my Great Grandfather and promptly lost most of the value of his estate, and then absorbed the rest of it into his accounts). My mother is pissed at this, as she’s the one whose been here and dealing with Grandmere for the past sixteen years instead of them and doesn’t think that my uncle should reap the rewards.

Okay, so maybe I’m painting him with a tainted brush, since I honestly don’t know what he’s thinking, I’m just going by what I’ve seen and what my mother’s told me…it’s hard to imagine that this man I looked up to could be so underhanded…then again, we are related by blood.

He’s apparently looking for a new job, and I HATE him for it, because of who he’s in talks with. I would kill to work for this company, seriously. It’s one of the hugest and best companies to work for. But, I guess that’s what happens when you have skills and talent. I’m still attempting to learn how to properly code a website without having to whine to my best friend that I crashed it.

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Just got back from the hospital.

So, this morning I discovered I was bleeding from a place that one generally should not be bleeding from, and this continues through out the day. All though out, I attempt to get my mother’s attention about it, but the fact does not sink in until six pm when she finally realizes what I’m saying (and by this time, I’m in the bathroom, vomiting.

Mum, being the smart one (and the one not in the bathroom), presses the First Responder Emergancy button, and we wait.

And Wait…and wait…and mum’s cellphone rings.

WTF?!

It’s First Responder, explaining the cannot get through. We get an ambulance to the house.

Saity goes back to puking as the ambulance guy comes in. Saity goes vroom to the hospital. (on the way, it took me about two minutes for my fuzzy head to say my birthday, 1/18/81, I also get stabbed for an IV but it’s pretty much a crap out).

I get examined, nearly puke on the doctor, and then he gives me the great news that I need a rectal exam.

…

….

GAH!

So after a brief panic attack as I had flashback to events ten years ago that are not good things, we proceed.

…I now have more respect for my gay characters then like..ever. Seriously. Especially the virgin ones.

OW!

Good news is, I have hemroids, bad news…no idea what’s causing the un-bearable pain, the nausea/vomiting, nor the fuzzy headedness. So now I have to fight with my GP over beleiving I have these symptoms (which mum has witnessed and told him about), or another trip to the ER when things get trippy again.

My ass hurts, both my wrists hurt (they did a second IV at the hospital) and I still want to puke up my liver. Also, we’ve discovered that if we have a message waiting on our voice mail, our First Responder doesn’t work…yay for planned emergancies?

…How was your day?

Edit: After a bit of rest, and finally reading through the information I recieved at discharge, apparently i also have a severe case of stomach flu and slight dehydration…yay?

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

My mother apparently ‘ratted me out’ to her therapist about cutting up my arm. Not a big deal, it’s not like she can do anything, but apparently she ‘threatened’ to put me in a long term care facility ‘for my own safety’.

( Cut for talk of cutting and other 'issues' )

So mother and I had a midnight run to the truck stop to get ice cream and candy. On the way home, mum was eating her candy bar and suddenlly gasped (causing me to take the appropriate measure of slamming on my breaks).

Her front left tooth fell out while she was eating.

We get home, and she heads to the bathroom to check it out, giving a little scream at her apperance. I comence making fun of her (in a gentle way! Really!) I think she's getting slightly agrivated by my constant references to the good ship lolly pop and asking Santa for new teeth (though she still giggles if I play it off just right).

But I've had my fun, Monday we have to start calling around to dentists.

*giggles manically*

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Take all your pills and divide them by number and size.

No, this isn’t a meme, I’m just dolling out pills for the month. And it’s a bit disheartening.

Daily I take 1½ pink oblong pills, 1 beige round pill one yellow and white striped capsule, and one beige oblong pill.

Then we get into the ‘when needed’ bottles (which is more and more), which include two small white round pills for sleep, one large horsepill and one small round pill for swelling, two large oblong pills for pain, about five puffs of an inhaler for astmah, one large beige triangle for migraines, one dose from a nebulizer for breathing, and one small white pill that supposedly tastes like peppermint for spasams.

And that’s just what’s prescribed, that doesn’t include two daily vitamins, one daily alergy pill, one daily dose of cough syrup (or more depending on the season), two asperin’s for wrist and ankle pain, and a partrige in a pear tree to round out the set.

…my 70-year-old grandmother doesn’t take this much crap.