A Ceramic Fish Joint

I have a longer update to write (and am actually in the middle of it) but I’m too tired and still sick so that will probably take a while. I wanted to add a quick little note here because I just opened one of my Mead Composition books. You know the kind – old school ones that are comprised of the black and white abstract splotches, has 100 wide-ruled pages. I love those things and collected a bunch when a local store was going out of business.

Anyway, I used one of them for my English 101 & 102 courses that I took my senior year. We started out with this awesome professor, who left for a better job. That year, both my art teacher and Awesome Professor encouraged me to write because I was good at it. I have my art teacher’s note tucked away in the journal I kept for her class. She was amazed at my writing (not trying to brag here, honest) and how well I related images and words. Awesome Professor had written me a small note on the bottom of one of my papers that I wanted to keep safe. I hadn’t seen it in years because I forgot I put it in the one composition books that I’ve taken to all the places I’ve moved in the last decade. The one note that prompted me to talk to him about writing is here:

You should have more confidence in your writing ability. Kerouac once said that the “unspeakable visions of the individual” shouldn’t be shut out by lack of confidence or conservative leanings.

How cool is that? I love that I have this little token of “You Rock!” from someone that I respected greatly. I’m really happy I found that wee note. In the decade since, I’ve almost always kept writing. Usually online, mostly just memories. I’ve often toyed with the idea of writing a book, likely a memoir, to turn the collection of all these years worth of replaying my past and intertwining it with the present into one large work. I’ve had a lot of encouragement to do this. Well, let me rephrase that. I’ve had a lot of encouragement regarding the quality/integrity/entertainment value of my words from my three loyal readers. (Always three. Maybe not the same three all this time, but three nonetheless.) Then, on a different front, my mom always Always ALWAYS tells me to write a book. Of course, she’s never actually read anything I’ve ever written before. She just says, “You’re smart and so funny. You should write a book!” I’m not funny in the joke telling way. More in the being cynical and sarcastic and completely over the top (while maintaining a completely serious tone and demeanor.) I think the one thing that has prevented me from starting a big writing project is that, well, I have no clue how to start. I know how to share my stories. I can definitely put a *light* spin on really dark and messed up situations. At any rate, I was really excited to find this note. I still get butterflies when I look at it, if only because someone with real expertise in the field believed in me. My self esteem is far greater now than it was in high school; even still it’s nice to have…. I don’t know…. validation maybe? I think everyone needs that sometimes.

Maybe, hopefully, one day I can create a post saying I just finished chapter 9 of 12 or something. Or at least one that says HOLY FUCK, I’m actually doing this!

That is all.

Hi. Quick update here. Just got back from the land of the undead, or “Hotel Memorial” as I like to call it. What was originally chalked up as an ordinary flu was finally taken seriously after..oh…three days of inpatient. There were tests. Various and sundry things stuck up my bum. Everything normal, so far. I could have Crohn’s disease. I could have cancer. I could have Post Cholecystectomy Syndrome. I could have Sphincter of Oddi Dysfunction. Thing is, in this area they are extremely limited as to a)testing they can do and b)expertise on interpreting said tests. So if your abdominal pain isn’t caused by your gallbladder (which is gone) or appendix (which they can’t seem to find on ANY tests for me) then they don’t know what to do. I had a colonoscopy early this morning (a day after a barium enema…let me tell you, two nights of cleansing my colon? LOTS OF FUN. Also, barium sets up like cement all up in there and it’s still not gone – not that you really wanted to know about the contents of my intestines/colon…) The barium enema was normal, but the colonoscopy showed lots of nodules in my large intestine. They took a biopsy and I should know next week some time what it might be. If they still can’t figure it out, I get to go to John’s Hopkins for more testing.

Which, by the way, is something I demanded on day…uh…the other day. I was all, “Look. You clearly don’t know what’s wrong with me. You get defensive when I research my own condition and ask educated questions/request complex testing. Something is wrong, and obviously neither the talent nor the equipment is here to help me. Either send me to Ruby Memorial (WVU) or John’s Hopkins so I can have a life again.” Doctor didn’t like that and promptly walked out of my room. I have this way of pissing off doctors. Oh, and I even got another psych consult before leaving today. You know, cause it’s prolly all in my head. So, we’ll see. The good news is that for the first time in a week and a half, I can keep stuff down. I was pretty dehydrated when I went in and my potassium was all out of whack making me all zombified. Which is appropriate, given this is the weekend for Zombie Jesus! (I say that in my head like it’s come over a loud speaker at a monster truck rally.) I’ve even kept food down; a grilled cheese and bacon sammich to be exact. Dad got it for me from the cafeteria right before I was discharged. Those things are GOOD. Especially at Hotel Memorial. I used to get them all the time when I worked there. Bacon is my favorite food group, obviously.

I guess there’s probably more to tell, like the myriad IVs I had – mostly in my feet. Especially the one that got infiltrated today and nobody would listen to me. Then, during a 20 minute colonoscopy they pumped enough fluid in the tissue of my foot that it no longer moves. Lovely, huh? Or how I completely ran out of veins and they had to start cutting my fingers open and doing a BLOODLETTING to do tests. Or, you know, the fact that I had a many foot long contraption shoved up my ass. All of these were fun and interesting experiences. Especially when they refuse to believe the pain medicine prescribed doesn’t, you know, work. Or the nausea medicine doesn’t, you know, work. Sometimes people have high thresholds, jeez! I’ve slept since I came home since I was up all night drinking something called “Go Lightly” – a laxative. I was supposed to drink a GALLON of the stuff from 9pm till 6am. I managed less than half a gallon. I had to take a sip then quick chase it with apple juice (since that was the only other flavored thing I was allowed.) It was almost like doing shots, except instead of getting shitfaced, you just shit. I gave up a little after 4:30 and decided I didn’t care anymore and was going to bed. If they couldn’t do the procedure because too much barium was left then I’d deal (I hadn’t eaten in over a week, so the fact that they ordered the barium enema test first was very short-sighted on their part, which I decided when I gave up.)

My Ziggy was so happy to see me home. Oh how he purred and mewed (well, he doesn’t really mew – he opens his mouth and says “Ack”) and walked back and forth on me and wanted held and slept on me. He’s so co-dependent. I told him that he needed to go sleep on my feets instead of my side, where he settled in. I’ve only had a Cat in the Hat at my feets for days. And, of course, my Blacky Bear which is the perfect size to hold into my side when it hurts. Yes, I am 7. And to reinforce that, my mom got me a Hello Kitty watch as a prize for having to do all these stupid hard tests. I mean, why they got to be all up in my ass and such?

I watched a lovely match of layer tennis today which went way into the realm of social media. Though, I have to admit, I miss the days when it was actually layer tennis instead of concept tennis. Ah well, it was my first one in a long time.

With that, I think I’ll go back to bed.