My life is one big ongoing reality show that no one is watching and that I'm not getting paid for.
Showing posts with label illness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label illness. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Well that's just the crazy talking....
I really truly hate being sick. I think I spend so much time being sick that I've probably forgot how the hell it feels to live my life healthy. I've coughed and hacked. Slept and sweated. I've medicated and medicated and medicated some more and now I'm just plain pooped. My taste buds are shot and the only things that sound mildly appetizing to me on a continuous basis are freezy pops and saltine crackers. Both of which I have to fight Penny for. Damn dog. I swear she doesn't get the fact that she is, in fact...a dog...and NOT a person. I'm probably a lot to blame for that but seriously I have never met a dog that is more like a person than this one.
Today I managed to sleep my way through another 24 hour cycle of life but I woke with the most horrific panic. It was raining. It was dark and Jon was not here like he was supposed to be. I flipped. It was a rainy night almost 19 years ago that my family life was changed forever, so things like this get to me.
I have a spot on my chin that was a pimple that turned into a boo boo because I can't seem to stop picking and fidgeting with things and so I had to have it covered with a bandaid and neosporin in hopes of letting it heal. It had done a pretty good job of healing until today when I woke to find that Jon had not appeared at the time that he said he would. In 15 minutes I managed to mangle the newly healing flesh.
When Jon did appear and explained his tardiness the first thing he noticed is the area on my chin. He was not pleased and immediately questioned why I did it.
Jon: Jessica did you pick at your chin?
Me: Maybe.
Jon: Maybe as in yes?
Me: Ok...yes. But it's only because I get anxious.
Jon: We have got to find something else for you to do when you get anxious.
Me: I've tried but I always resort to picking at or fidgeting with something.
....and here is where Jon felt that he was having a pure stroke of genius....
Jon: Well maybe from now on when you are nervous you can just give me a hand job! Problem solved.
Me: I don't know...I get anxious a lot.
Jon: Sounds okay by me.
Me: Just one problem.
Jon: Yeah, what's that?
Me: Chaffing.
I'd like to say that this deterred him. Instead it sent him into a fit of laughter. Men!
~JP
Today I managed to sleep my way through another 24 hour cycle of life but I woke with the most horrific panic. It was raining. It was dark and Jon was not here like he was supposed to be. I flipped. It was a rainy night almost 19 years ago that my family life was changed forever, so things like this get to me.
I have a spot on my chin that was a pimple that turned into a boo boo because I can't seem to stop picking and fidgeting with things and so I had to have it covered with a bandaid and neosporin in hopes of letting it heal. It had done a pretty good job of healing until today when I woke to find that Jon had not appeared at the time that he said he would. In 15 minutes I managed to mangle the newly healing flesh.
When Jon did appear and explained his tardiness the first thing he noticed is the area on my chin. He was not pleased and immediately questioned why I did it.
Jon: Jessica did you pick at your chin?
Me: Maybe.
Jon: Maybe as in yes?
Me: Ok...yes. But it's only because I get anxious.
Jon: We have got to find something else for you to do when you get anxious.
Me: I've tried but I always resort to picking at or fidgeting with something.
....and here is where Jon felt that he was having a pure stroke of genius....
Jon: Well maybe from now on when you are nervous you can just give me a hand job! Problem solved.
Me: I don't know...I get anxious a lot.
Jon: Sounds okay by me.
Me: Just one problem.
Jon: Yeah, what's that?
Me: Chaffing.
I'd like to say that this deterred him. Instead it sent him into a fit of laughter. Men!
~JP
Saturday, January 9, 2010
This...that...and my mother
I had thought that I was on the upward swing of this bronchitis crap. Apparently life and my body decided to bitch slap me back to reality and I had the night from hell. I had gone to have a belated birthday celebration with one of my dear friends. It was all cheese fries, gallon of daquiri's (with 6 extra shots) and "The Hangover". Oh, yeah...I forgot to mention that we are both sick as fucking dogs. Yep, we are the two ra-tards that decided traipsing around in 20 degree weather without appropriate winter gear was a swell idea ALL in the name of fashion. We are both mother's too and that means we are influencing the youth of America. Be afraid...be very VERY afraid.
Anyways, in light of our being basically poor but still wanting to celebrate another birthday we decided to not infect the whole of the world by going out for dinner and drinks and instead just kept it casual and simple. As usual we had a blast but even while we were at the store buying supplies for the cheese fries I could tell that I wasn't feeling so good. Midway through the movie both of us were wiggling around and generally not in our usual perky moods. The movie ended and I scooted on home.
It was straight to bed for me. The days of being able to bounce back from illnesses, even ones that come with shots in the rear in order to get ya back in fighting form, are getting fewer and far between. I got into p.j.'s, medicated myself and attempted to sleep. That was NOT gonna be an easy task. I started to feel like I was drowning when I would lay flat. When I would prop myself up to get rid of the drowning sensation I would have an excruciating pain in my neck. I'd begin to feel really hot then freezing cold. After about 30 minutes of turning round and round in the bed I got up.
I contemplated watching television. But I was sooooo tired. I thought about getting on the computer and writing but the only thoughts that were filling my head were how much it hurt to breath and how flippin tired I was. For your sake, my readers, I chose to spare you from that torturous hell.
When I finally did fall asleep I had the most realistic dream about my mother.
She's been on my mind a lot lately. I don't get to see my parents nearly enough. I used to spend the days of my youth trying to figure out how to get as far as possible away from them. Now that I've grown up and I'm in the middle of one of the hardest moments of my life thus far, all I seem to do is think of her and how I wish she were here near me.
The recent news of her issues with diabetes and how she now has to be on insulin injections and is having diminished visions makes those feelings of wanting to be close to her so much stronger. The fact that my mother and I can, at times, be the exact same side of a coin. I don't know about you but me I used to tell myself, daily if not minute by minute "I refuse to be anything like my mother". It's not that she isn't a good person, because truth be told she is wonderful. Big heart. Kind and full of spirit. Funny as all hell and loves to find beauty in the most simple of things. She can bring any plant to life and people gravitate to her like she's a goddamn magnet.
I guess I am just the typical woman who has to deal with her mother issues. You always see things in your parents that you want to do the exact opposite of. I made those observations when I was like 5 and carried them with me to this day. Sadly most of the shit that I said that I wouldn't do...yep, you guessed it...I've gone right on and done it. Way to be original.
I'd love to say that I haven't made a few shrinks rich off of my mother issues, but why lie.
So last night or more truthfully this morning, in a cold medicine induced haze, I had a dream about my mother owning an antique shop. It was run out of the bottom floor of this gigantic craftsman style home that I've never seen before but now can't seem to stop thinking about.
It was an extremely bizarre dream filled with people from all throughout my life. There were customers that were my old classmates from high school and a delivery driver that was one of my old bosses. To say that it was crazy would have been the understatement of the year. And I know that we are only 9 days in thus far but still it was some weird stuff.
When I finally woke up today, at the sad hour of like 2p, it was to the sound of my mom calling me on the phone. Apparently her mothering beacon had homed in on the fact that her oldest child was sick and so she had to reach out and telephonically touch me. I talked for a few short minutes before I told her that I just wanted to go back to sleep and I've been going in and out of it since then.
It's not overly exciting but that's what is going on in the world of me.
~JP
Anyways, in light of our being basically poor but still wanting to celebrate another birthday we decided to not infect the whole of the world by going out for dinner and drinks and instead just kept it casual and simple. As usual we had a blast but even while we were at the store buying supplies for the cheese fries I could tell that I wasn't feeling so good. Midway through the movie both of us were wiggling around and generally not in our usual perky moods. The movie ended and I scooted on home.
It was straight to bed for me. The days of being able to bounce back from illnesses, even ones that come with shots in the rear in order to get ya back in fighting form, are getting fewer and far between. I got into p.j.'s, medicated myself and attempted to sleep. That was NOT gonna be an easy task. I started to feel like I was drowning when I would lay flat. When I would prop myself up to get rid of the drowning sensation I would have an excruciating pain in my neck. I'd begin to feel really hot then freezing cold. After about 30 minutes of turning round and round in the bed I got up.
I contemplated watching television. But I was sooooo tired. I thought about getting on the computer and writing but the only thoughts that were filling my head were how much it hurt to breath and how flippin tired I was. For your sake, my readers, I chose to spare you from that torturous hell.
When I finally did fall asleep I had the most realistic dream about my mother.
She's been on my mind a lot lately. I don't get to see my parents nearly enough. I used to spend the days of my youth trying to figure out how to get as far as possible away from them. Now that I've grown up and I'm in the middle of one of the hardest moments of my life thus far, all I seem to do is think of her and how I wish she were here near me.
The recent news of her issues with diabetes and how she now has to be on insulin injections and is having diminished visions makes those feelings of wanting to be close to her so much stronger. The fact that my mother and I can, at times, be the exact same side of a coin. I don't know about you but me I used to tell myself, daily if not minute by minute "I refuse to be anything like my mother". It's not that she isn't a good person, because truth be told she is wonderful. Big heart. Kind and full of spirit. Funny as all hell and loves to find beauty in the most simple of things. She can bring any plant to life and people gravitate to her like she's a goddamn magnet.
I guess I am just the typical woman who has to deal with her mother issues. You always see things in your parents that you want to do the exact opposite of. I made those observations when I was like 5 and carried them with me to this day. Sadly most of the shit that I said that I wouldn't do...yep, you guessed it...I've gone right on and done it. Way to be original.
I'd love to say that I haven't made a few shrinks rich off of my mother issues, but why lie.
So last night or more truthfully this morning, in a cold medicine induced haze, I had a dream about my mother owning an antique shop. It was run out of the bottom floor of this gigantic craftsman style home that I've never seen before but now can't seem to stop thinking about.
It was an extremely bizarre dream filled with people from all throughout my life. There were customers that were my old classmates from high school and a delivery driver that was one of my old bosses. To say that it was crazy would have been the understatement of the year. And I know that we are only 9 days in thus far but still it was some weird stuff.
When I finally woke up today, at the sad hour of like 2p, it was to the sound of my mom calling me on the phone. Apparently her mothering beacon had homed in on the fact that her oldest child was sick and so she had to reach out and telephonically touch me. I talked for a few short minutes before I told her that I just wanted to go back to sleep and I've been going in and out of it since then.
It's not overly exciting but that's what is going on in the world of me.
~JP
Friday, September 18, 2009
Penny's Thought of the Day...
Thank god she is so damn cute or her attitude on how I'm dealing with sleeplessness over being her doggie nurse made would really piss me off!
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Penny's Thought of the Day....
I had thought that I would keep "Penny's Thought of the Day" on hiatus for a bit while she recovered but since she has a legion (okay like 10) of fans she felt that she owed them a post. Here's a little montage to show you that while she is a little "looped" from the concusion she is on the road to recovery.
We aren't out of the woods yet. The doctor says she's at about 90% and there is still a worry of a hemorrhage or even a brain aneurism. She will have to remain in a constant state of rest either quietly with me or in a padded kennel. Again I laugh at the idea that my dog has ended up in a padded cell before I have.
We are so grateful to not have lost our Penny. Another loss of a family pet so soon after losing 2 dogs less than 3 months ago would have put us all over the edge. We are thankful for the great care she has received at our veterinarian. She will go back in a week to check and see how the cortizone is affecting her motor skills. So far she can stand, semi bark and responds to her name. She has a ravenous appetite and is eating up ALL the cuddle time.
Thanks for all the love and well wishes.
~ JP & Penny
Thursday, September 10, 2009
The Laundry Standoff...
The standoff between me and the clean laundry that I am told needs to be folded and not just chucked into each determined owners room has now reached day 3. I'm pretty sure the clothes are winning as it seems they have a quality of kriptonite to Superman effect on me.
Every time I attempt to go near them I am overwhelmed with frustration and the strange urge to drink my weight in alcohol.
I've contemplated burning everything and starting over, but Jon has brought up the very obvious financial liability that this possesses. God, I really hate when he is all logical.
I'm wondering what ever gave me the idea that being at home and not at a full time job was such a brilliant idea for how I should spend my time. Then I am reminded of the debilitating illness that brought me to this place. And for once I'm not talking about the depression.
I can hear the laundry taunting me from the couch and I am forced to remind it that A) I am NOT on facebook and B) I am more than capable of folding it all but I am choosing not to.
This internal exchange is room for pause and makes me think that being cooped up all day with inanimate objects may not be the best thing for someone of my mental capacity. This realization makes me tired and therefore I announce that I am going back to bed.
There is an audible groan from the laundry piles, which I realize is actually Penny rustling about underneath the stacks of shorts, t-shirts, towels and socks. Just when I worry that I will have to launch a search and rescue team for her safe return from the depths of clothes mountain she wriggles free albeit inside the pant leg of one of Jon's pairs of boxers and looks longingly at me.
I am pretty sure she is telling me to fold the laundry so she and the other dogs can reclaim the couch as a jungle gym. Or maybe she is asking me to rescue her from the boxers.
Great....now I am being mentally scolded by piles of clothes and 3 dogs. My day is going down hill fast.
~JP
Every time I attempt to go near them I am overwhelmed with frustration and the strange urge to drink my weight in alcohol.
I've contemplated burning everything and starting over, but Jon has brought up the very obvious financial liability that this possesses. God, I really hate when he is all logical.
I'm wondering what ever gave me the idea that being at home and not at a full time job was such a brilliant idea for how I should spend my time. Then I am reminded of the debilitating illness that brought me to this place. And for once I'm not talking about the depression.
I can hear the laundry taunting me from the couch and I am forced to remind it that A) I am NOT on facebook and B) I am more than capable of folding it all but I am choosing not to.
This internal exchange is room for pause and makes me think that being cooped up all day with inanimate objects may not be the best thing for someone of my mental capacity. This realization makes me tired and therefore I announce that I am going back to bed.
There is an audible groan from the laundry piles, which I realize is actually Penny rustling about underneath the stacks of shorts, t-shirts, towels and socks. Just when I worry that I will have to launch a search and rescue team for her safe return from the depths of clothes mountain she wriggles free albeit inside the pant leg of one of Jon's pairs of boxers and looks longingly at me.
I am pretty sure she is telling me to fold the laundry so she and the other dogs can reclaim the couch as a jungle gym. Or maybe she is asking me to rescue her from the boxers.
Great....now I am being mentally scolded by piles of clothes and 3 dogs. My day is going down hill fast.
~JP
Thursday, September 3, 2009
He just called me the smelly kid...pretty lame as terms of endearment go.
So I'm sick. Yeah, big whoop di do. The "illness" has been going on for over a week now. Add that crappy feeling on top of the lingering depression and you find yourself with a pretty stinky sticky situation.
Okay...I'll just put it out there. I haven't showered. There I said it. Go ahead with the thunderous, in unision, mock disbelief/disgust...WHAT?? EW?? SERIOUSLY?? No shower?? AT ALL??
In all my snotted up nose and Vicks crusted ailment I really, honestly, didn't think anyone noticed my failure to remain hygienic. I have brushed teeth, hair...washed hands and face, but when it came to showering per say...ummm, yeah...it's been afew couple days. Okay...fine...it's been exactly 3 1/2 days since my ass has met with a shower on an intimate one on one basis.
I've just been so sick. All I've wanted to do is sleep. Drink water. Pee. Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Drink hot tea. Pee. Pee. Pee. Sleep. Ok...I'm pretty sure you get the point.
Today has honestly been the first day where I have been in the right frame of mind and not all looped out on cold medicine to trust myself alone in a shower and not require one of those bathing chairs that old people use. I was going to venture out to soccer tonight for Han's practice. But as the time edged closer I could feel the fever coming back, my chest was hurting and the cough. UGH...that fucking cough!
So I took a pass and decided to stay at home. As it is we got an email from one of the coaches that her kid (that she brought to the last practice on Monday and that a bunch of people held) has been diagnosed with hand, foot and mouth disease. Thank god I didn't hold the child or seriously I would be in an ER with that on top of this flu-y cold'ish thingy that I've managed to catch while sequestered in my house.
As Jon was getting ready to leave with Hannah I made mention that maybe I will take a bath or shower. Jon was ALL over that. Of course instead of just brushing it off and walking away I have to know why it is that Jon seems so happy over the fact that I am going to bath.
His response?
"Well babe...your kind of like the smelly kid", he says with a mild chuckle.
What? The smelly kid?? Me???
I tried to be hurt about it and then I got a whiff of myself. DAMN...how the hell did I miss that??
Apparently having a barrier of snot between your sense of smell and the odor that is well...yourself...can really gloss over the stench that one can create just from sleeping and being sick.
I had to concede that for once Jon was correct and now I am off to delouse myself.
~JP
Okay...I'll just put it out there. I haven't showered. There I said it. Go ahead with the thunderous, in unision, mock disbelief/disgust...WHAT?? EW?? SERIOUSLY?? No shower?? AT ALL??
In all my snotted up nose and Vicks crusted ailment I really, honestly, didn't think anyone noticed my failure to remain hygienic. I have brushed teeth, hair...washed hands and face, but when it came to showering per say...ummm, yeah...it's been a
I've just been so sick. All I've wanted to do is sleep. Drink water. Pee. Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Drink hot tea. Pee. Pee. Pee. Sleep. Ok...I'm pretty sure you get the point.
Today has honestly been the first day where I have been in the right frame of mind and not all looped out on cold medicine to trust myself alone in a shower and not require one of those bathing chairs that old people use. I was going to venture out to soccer tonight for Han's practice. But as the time edged closer I could feel the fever coming back, my chest was hurting and the cough. UGH...that fucking cough!
So I took a pass and decided to stay at home. As it is we got an email from one of the coaches that her kid (that she brought to the last practice on Monday and that a bunch of people held) has been diagnosed with hand, foot and mouth disease. Thank god I didn't hold the child or seriously I would be in an ER with that on top of this flu-y cold'ish thingy that I've managed to catch while sequestered in my house.
As Jon was getting ready to leave with Hannah I made mention that maybe I will take a bath or shower. Jon was ALL over that. Of course instead of just brushing it off and walking away I have to know why it is that Jon seems so happy over the fact that I am going to bath.
His response?
"Well babe...your kind of like the smelly kid", he says with a mild chuckle.
What? The smelly kid?? Me???
I tried to be hurt about it and then I got a whiff of myself. DAMN...how the hell did I miss that??
Apparently having a barrier of snot between your sense of smell and the odor that is well...yourself...can really gloss over the stench that one can create just from sleeping and being sick.
I had to concede that for once Jon was correct and now I am off to delouse myself.
~JP
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