It All Makes Sense Now

I had my phone consult with my Kansas City doctor and some weird things I had noticed suddenly made a lot of sense.  Lately I've not been able to sleep, I've been generally sad, my palsy has been TERRIBLE, and my heart has been beating really fast and hard.  (That's what she said).  Like, when I lay down to sleep I can feel it pounding like crazy.  I figured it was just a fat thing, but my thyroid levels have gone WAY up.  I've been on the same dose for awhile, but for whatever reason it's all jacked up now so I have to decrease the dose.
My estrogen is in the crapper again.  It's back down to post menopausal levels.  That one is no mystery.  AND NO ONE YELL AT ME FOR THIS BECAUSE I ALREADY KNOW HOW STUPID IT IS.  I've been avoiding refilling meds as much as possible.  There are some that I can't go without for long without getting really sick, so I've been taking them like, every other day so I don't have to refill them as often.  The one I've been neglecting most is my estrogen.  I told the doctor and he said what I expected him to say.  "Take your estrogen!"  I know, I know.  So I need to call the pharmacy and have it mailed to me so I don't have to drive clear out to Johnston.
It's always so easy to tell when my estrogen is tanking.  My hot flashes get infinitely worse.

My horrific yeast infection is better I think.  Although it got a lot worse before it got better.  I finished my 7 day probiotic treatment and am now just taking regular probiotics.  The infection was under my bottom belly roll in addition to my vag, so I was feeling gross and miserable all around.
The comfrey hydrosol from prairieland herbs was a big help for the belly.  I'm finding a lot of their stuff to be useful in caring for this heap of shit that houses my organs.  The comfrey spray helped clear up the belly thing, the lemon balm spray is getting rid of my canker sore and taking the swelling way down, (my muscle relaxers give me bad dry mouth, which gives me canker sores).  I ordered a bigger bottle so I can use it as a sort of mouth rinse.  It also helped with my cold sore.  It never crusted over or oozed, and it never got any bigger than an eraser head.  So shout out to Prairieland Herbs.  I use their Wise Woman cream for my face since it gets so dry and had Squirt and Mom try the 3 citrus face cream.  My mom is in love with it now and likes how she knows what all the ingredients are.  Of course I religiously use their rosemary mint body powder, which really does last all day and keeps my sweat smell down.  Anything else of theirs I can plug?   Mmm, nope, I think that's it.  Oh wait, their lotion bars (solid lotion in a deodorant stick) are great for after swimming.  They're good at keeping the chlorine itch down.

I finished my last fat class tonight, so all of my requirements for gastric bypass have been met.  The only hurdle left is getting insurance to approve it.  I kept hearing horror stories from other people at the classes and it's got me worried.  When it comes to insurance, I think I should get special treatment. I feel like the entire insurance world should revolve around ME, and give ME what I want.  And I don't, not even for a second, find that selfish.  Those ultra rich mother fuckers can MORE than afford to cover me and every other sick person.  SO DO IT.  I swear to little baby Jesus, if they try to get in my way, I'm going to stomp someone's trachea.  I've given them roughly $5,000 this year for COBRA.  And it's not all of my money.  It's money from a whole goddamn team of people because IT COSTS SO MUCH.  This is your warning Blue Cross/Blue Shield of Arkansas.  Let me have my life back or I will tear you down, piece by mother fucking piece.

Listen To Me!!!

Jesus Christ.  Every now and then I want to smack Nathan.  He just came into the living room asking if he should throw out his old prescriptions.  I was like, "I already got rid of that stuff you're allergic to."  Then he says, "no, this is the stuff from the hospital."  FOOL!  They gave him Prednisone, Allegra, and Pepcid.  I don't care if he stops Allegra and Pepcid, but TWO DIFFERENT DOCTORS/NURSES said TAKE THE FULL COURSE OF THE STEROID.  First he was arguing with me about what it was for.  I said something like, "make sure you take the prednisone since it will help your swelling."  He tried to argue with me that it's for rashes and itching.  NO IT'S NOT.  I've taken it before goddamnit.  They give it to me for my back sometimes for inflammation.  I told him that's what the Allegra was for.  So did he take the full course?  No.  I'm sure it's fine, but he doesn't take it seriously.  Like, this one time he decided he should just stop taking his sleep medicine.  IT'S A FUCKING BLOOD PRESSURE MEDICINE, and he's been on it for YEARS.  Like, since his age was in the single digits!  They use it for sleep and menopause.  I've actually asked my doctor about switching to it.
Of course I told him not to do that, but he did it anyway, and then he got really sick with a headache and stomach shit.  DUMBASS!  You're dating a fucking medicine cabinet.  Listen to me when I tell you something is a bad idea!  Jesus fucking Christ.  It's really goddamn irritating so now I'm mad at him and he's mad at me.  Too bad for him, because I'm right.

In other news, I only have one more fat class to go.  I got a call from the bariatric center wanting to know if I was going to have the same insurance for the new year and how far I'd gotten in the class.  I tried to call them today, but the lady I need to talk to won't be in until tomorrow.  It got me a little excited.  I'm thinking about only carrying a part time load this coming semester for DMACC since this surgery WILL happen soon.  If it doesn't, I'll kill someone.
Oh, and I guess there are more classes I have to take, but I don't have to take them until my surgery is scheduled?  I'm not sure.  COULD THIS FUCKING PROCESS BE ANY SLOWER!  CUT OUT MY GUT SO I CAN HAVE MY LIFE BACK ALREADY!

Encouragement

I sent an email to my friend Trudy, the one I cat sit for all the time.  She had gastric bypass a few months ago and I wanted to see what her progress and experience had been.  Her email was very encouraging and has just made me more determined than ever to have gastric bypass.

I feel great. I eat pretty normally now, even sweets, and have no problems. I certainly don't eat as much but I think it's a lot. I keep thinking

that I'm going to gain weight but I haven't. I was in a size 2 X but I am in a size 10 petite now (sometimes a 12 for jeans). I have bought all my clothes at 2nd hand shops as there are a lot of smaller sizes. It's funny, I know that I lost weight but I don't feel any "different". I would have stayed heavy if I felt good but I got to the point of hurting all the time and not doing much. Now my one knee hurts only occasionally and I can do so much. I am even taking yoga and getting stronger. At my age, I don't really care as much how I look, but I am so glad that I feel so well.

You will be so surprised at first at how little you eat but after a year, you will be "normal". I do try to get my protein in and I take my vitamins most of the time. I eat meat, eggs, Greek yogurt and sometimes the protein powder to get my protein. It is so much easier to eat healthily as the cravings don't rule me like they used to. And I do not "diet" - I eat what I want; I just try to eat as healthily as I can.

I am so glad that you are going to do this too.

Trudy

PS: I was 200 plus pounds and now I am down to 151. Just for the fun of it, I would like to get into the 140s and I probably will as I am still losing (it seems) a pound or so every month. We'll see - no biggee. And Stephanie (my PA) says that one thing bigger people have is strong muscles that weigh more as we had to have them to hold our weight so some of my weight is muscles.

Maybe I'm Sad

I've been sleeping a lot lately.  I was doing really well getting up before noon and being productive.  Maybe it's because it's so gray outside.  Maybe it's other shit.  I fucking hate this time of year.  It's gray, there are way too many crows around, and there are people EVERYWHERE.  It's like the population of the the U.S. quadruples for 2 months.  I leave for Tuesday water aerobics at 4:45 pm.  Traffic isn't awesome, but I get there at least 10 minutes early.  The other day I was 10 minutes late because traffic was so bad.  People are ASSHOLES.  No one fucking moves over to let other cars in.  I leave 4 car lengths between myself and the car in front of me and I get REALLY pissed off when people look frustrated behind me.  Sorry, I'm turning this into a road rage blog.
Anyway, I went to the store with Nathan and there were no parking spots, then we were going to stop at Gateway Cafe for supper, but it was jam packed so we picked up one of those cooked chickens and left.  WERE DO ALL OF THESE PEOPLE COME FROM!!??

I've been thinking about Dad an awful lot lately.  I had this dream that he was grilling food at a big party.  He looked so happy, but he never talked.  He just kept laughing and looking happy and grilling.  I was walking between these white garages in a big green field.  There were hundreds of them, and in the middle was the party.  No matter where I was between the garages I could always see Dad.
For awhile I though I'd be fine not taking my higher xanax dosage, but as soon as I stopped it I got really sad and couldn't stop thinking about him.  I was going to get him some more mustache wax and shaving soap for x-mas.  I got him some from Etsy for Valentine's day.    He was so stoked because he couldn't find the stuff anywhere.  I got him a little tin of wax and a travel chapstick size.
I should go back to therapy, but I didn't like the therapist I was seeing so I quit going.  I feel like I can't be helped right now.  It's like, my feelings just have to run their course.  Listening to someone say that what I'm feeling is normal is not helpful.  I have a med check in January with January.  Haha.  That's her name.  I call all of my doctors by their first names.  Is that rude?  Should I be calling them Dr. So and So?  Whatever.

Second Fat Class

Feeling a little more hope now.  Hope is a dangerous thing.  I cried a little during class.  Not really noticeably or anything.  It could have been from my lack of estrogen, but I felt like I wasn't alone, like, genuinely not alone.  I know there are other people out there, but something about being in the same room with them got to me.  I could tell they were all feeling the same as me.  Desperate and too afraid to actually hope.
Tonight we talked about managing lapses and eating out.  She talked about different types of people in our lives, and how they can influence our decisions when choosing what to eat, from enablers to silent saboteurs.  The silent saboteurs are the people that, without really meaning to, tell you so often what you should or shouldn't be doing/eating that you can't help but feel like a failure.
She really gave me some stuff to think about.  I have to change my whole mindset.  For instance, we were talking about falling off the wagon.  She told us a habit doesn't just take 21 days to stick, it takes over 200 days.  And that while we feel guilty for breaking down and bingeing on cookies or whatever, we should just get over it and continue on instead of giving up altogether.  People freak out about all the food they eat during the holidays or whatever, but she said, "one day will not, CANNOT ruin progress you've made with good habits.  Your body won't instantaneously pack the extra calories on as fat.  It takes your body two weeks of receiving excessive calories for it to start turning them into fat. ONE DAY WILL NOT BREAK YOU."
I didn't know that.  Me, and everyone else in the room were kind of dumbstruck, because we've all done the exact same thing.  Try to make too many changes all at once then fail one day and decide to just abandon the whole thing.
She REALLY emphasized how if we're going to start making changes, we start with one thing, and ONLY one thing.  She said if we're used to eating 3 or 4 pieces of pie after a meal, and we manage to just eat one piece, that's a huge success, and we should treat it like one.  And it's not until we've mastered that one thing that it's okay to move onto another.
That's got to be one of my biggest problems.  I have this all or nothing kind of mentality that I need to change.  The idea of making one small change is foreign to me.

I'm pretty irritated with myself for waiting so long to go to the fat classes.  Even though they're only an hour long, I'm getting more out of them than any other thing I've ever tried.
She also talked about how she will never, never, never tell us there's something we are forbidden to eat.  When she first started out as a dietician, she'd lay out for people what they could and couldn't have.  Eat vegetables.  You can't have a cookie.  Eat lean meats.  No white bread.  So on and so forth.  She said it was the biggest failure of her career.  No one was able to adhere to the instructions.  It was when she changed her method to one of acceptance instead of denial that she started to see people succeed.  You want a cookie?  Yes.  Have one.  Enjoy yourself.  But with the surgery you'll be hard pressed to finish a whole one.  Still, though, don't try to avoid it completely.

Another big thing for me is never feeling full, or acknowledging when I feel full.  She said the surgery is perfect for that.  You don't have to wait 20 minutes for your gut to tell your brain you're full.  It's instant, and you can't ignore the feeling.  I need that so much.  I can't read my hunger signals right now.  I've been trying to eat a little, then stop for 5 minutes to see if I'm still hungry, but I always still feel hungry.

I guess the bottom line is I'm bound and determined to have this done.  I think it's the right thing to do, and I don't think I'll regret it, just like the hysterectomy.

WARNING, THIS SECTION OF THE BLOG IS JUST ABOUT SINGING, SO IT MAY BORE YOU

My voice instructor Alayna asked if I wanted to come in for a couple extra lessons before the end of the semester.  I told her I'd love to, so we arranged for Monday and Tuesday.  Well I got so flustered over my math final that I completely spaced off my time with her on Monday.  I remembered right after I finished my final, when my brains started to work again.  So I went in Tuesday, looking rather sheepish.  She said, "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here today after standing me up yesterday."  I just grinned at her and said, "now you know I have no sense of dignity or shame."  She laughed.  I think she likes me.  I hope she does, because I really like her.
I haven't thought about singing this much since high school.  Only this time, I'm really enjoying it.  I stopped singing because of Dad, and now I'm singing again because of him.  I hope his energy is somewhere in the universe, listening to me progress.  And even though she's a fucking WHORE, I'm glad I sang at my cousin's wedding so Dad could hear me one last time.   I could tell he was proud too.  When I was singing I looked out at him and he smiled and did a little fist pump.  I miss him.  I miss the way he used to be, before his mind fell apart.

ANYWHO, I got off track there.  Alayna gave me the sheet music for the songs I asked her about for next semester.  She had me do kind of a brief run through of them and then said, "people are going to tell you you're good, and they're not wrong about that, but even if you are good, you can be better, and I'm going to take you there."  So she hands me these other two songs and says, "you're going to learn these before you learn the other two.  Think of them as tutor songs.  When you can sing these, you'll be ready to take on the other two, but you're going to have to work at it."
I'm excited.  I want to work at it.  And I feel exceptionally lucky to have stumbled upon her.  Certain things seem more effortless.  When I open my mouth to sing certain things, I'm kind of shocked as to what comes out.  Singing used to feel hard and labored and I'd panic about singing certain notes or vowels.  That gradually starting to go away.  Goddamnit Alayna, you're rocking my world.
I won't go on and on about it.  Usually I just talk to Tyne since she knows what I'm talking about.  Sorry for the tangent.

These are the two songs I want to sing next semester:

O Mio Babbino Caro and Song to the Moon

O Mio Babbino Caro isn't too tough and she has me working on that one already, but Song to the Moon is a beast, and she has to find someone on campus to teach me the Czech pronunciation.
So these are the other two "tutor" songs I have to learn before she'll let me sing it.  Tyne, if you're reading this, remind me to show you the new thing Alayna's having me do when I sing high notes.  It's so simple but it works like goddamn magic.

Lascia Ch'io Pianga and (I really apologize for this next link.  The singer isn't exceptional and the video is even worse, but I had a hell of a time finding someone that didn't completely suck at it or wasn't a counter tenor) Lungi Dal Caro Bene

Goddamn Italians and their goddamn love songs.  GOD.  I yearn for something in German about beer brawls or something in French about smoking cigarettes and eating sandwiches.

Oh yeah, if I actually DO get to have my own recital, I have a few other much simpler songs I want to do.  I seem to be attracted to Irish folk tunes.  I'll link them on here.  The Moonfall song I actually did at Simpson back when I wasn't going to class.  I had to sing something for a panel of professors because I was getting an incomplete.  They gave me an A.  Haha.  Suckers.

Moonfall (Cast recording)
Swing Low Sweet Chariot (Kathleen Battle, who is the shit)
The Water Is Wide (Renee Fleming, also the shit, but I don't like her version of this)
Shenandoah (I don't like this chick, but there aren't many good videos of this song)
The Salley Gardens (Some lady I don't know
Oh Danny Boy (Another lady I don't know)

SHIT DAY

I slept way too long, my scalp is peeling and leaving chunks of skin in my hair, I have a cold sore (I've only had 2 in my life, with the first appearing 3 years ago), I just put weight on my bad knee and almost collapsed, my yeast infection medicine made my vagina itch all night, and I'm still fat.  Oh, and I need to do my math final.

WHINE WHINE WHINE

One More Thing

Mom and I stopped at a restaurant after my dr. appointment.  We were sitting there finishing our drinks when I feel a hand on my shoulder.  I turn around, expecting to see someone I know, (which would have been weird since we were in Missouri), but there was a older woman I've never seen before.  She said, "I just had to come over here and tell you, you have the most beautiful skin."  At first I thought to myself, it's just a fatty glow, but I shut off my brain and said thank you.  When she was gone Mom and I were in agreement that she was going to say I had the most beautiful hair.  My hair did look pretty awesome today.  Then we decided people must just be more friendly in the south.  Unless you're brown.

After we were done eating, we went and visited my great uncle Jerry and aunt Betty.  I haven't seen them since.....  since I was like, 4 maybe?  Jerry is dying and is in a nursing home.  He was very close to my dad.  When Betty first looked at me she burst into tears and said, "my god!  You look just like your dad!"  Later I had to pass around my necklace so they could see Dad's fingerprint.  Jerry didn't really change expression while I was there except for when he saw the print.  He kind of smiled and then looked really sad.  Naturally Mom brought a few photo albums.  Betty was really enjoying them, and I think Jerry was too.  I just kept wondering what he was thinking.  I wonder if he was irritated at all of the chatter or if he was happy to have a distraction.  When I don't feel well I get spiteful.  It made me wish assisted suicide was legal, but that's a thorny issue.
Anywho, I'm going to print out some of Dad's photos for them, and I'm going to send them a print of my banjo drawing.

The top is a picture of Jerry, my grandma and Dad, and the bottom is my dad with Jerry's head kind of cut off.  They did a lot of hunting and fishing together.

I Should Be Doing Math....

But I don't want to right now.

I just got back from my appointment with my doc in Kansas City.  He took my blood and pee and x-rayed my knee.  Now I just have to wait for them to call me and tell me the results.  I swear to god he's my favorite doctor ever.  He asked how things were going and after expressing that I was too fat for the chairs in the waiting room, I told him I was bursting with self hatred.  He's seen me struggle with getting my weight down and is even keeping my thyroid levels slightly too high in an attempt to help me lose it.  Alas, it hasn't worked.  I asked him to write me a letter to give to the bariatric center so they could give it to my insurance company.  I also asked him to use the word 'plight' since it sounds cool.  So here's the letter:

Tiffini has been a patient of mine for close to 10 years and has struggled with thyroid problems, hormonal problems and weight problems.  she has tried every diet there is and still suffers from the plight of obesity.  She has combined weight loss programs, exercise programs and treatment with thyroid hormones and still doesn't lose weight.  She had a hysterectomy about a year ago and has gained 135 lbs since, despite diet changes, exercise and taking 5 grains of thyroid daily.  She has developed osteoarthritis in her right knee and ankle stemming from what would have been a minor injury had it not been aggravated by her weight.
As a rule of thumb, when approximating what a patient should weigh, I give everyone 100 lbs for 5 feet tall and then add 6 (small female), 8 (large female, medium male), or 10 (large frame male) pounds per inch.  At 5'6" that would make her ideal weight in the range of 136 to 148 lbs.  At 315 lbs, she is between 2 to 2 and a half times that figure.
She is looking forward to early adult onset diabetes, knee replacements, cardiovascular morbidity events and a whole lot of expensive medical procedures.
I think it would be in the best interest of this young lady to pursue bariatric surgery as she has tried everything I know available.

So now I need to get this letter to the insurance chick at the bariatric center.

Oh yeah, I also went to my first fat class last Wednesday.  Nathan hates me calling it fat class, but self deprecation suits me right now.
The nutritionist, who is just adorable, taught us about the deception of food names, like Wheat Thins and what not.  Using the words all natural, thin, organic, blah blah blah.  I already knew that.  She was like, "there are always fads.  That doesn't make them right.  First it was low fat, now it's low carb, which makes me laugh.  I'm predicting the next one will be low dairy.  We'll have to wait and see if I'm right."
She taught us the finger method.  Vitamins A and C, iron and calcium are required on all labels, even if it says "not a significant source of....."  If the daily value for each is at least 10%, you raise a finger.  Then you look at protein.  If it has at least 5 grams, you raise a finger.  Next is fiber, and if you have at least 10%, you raise a finger.  Next is sodium.  If it's under 300 g, you can keep a finger up, but you don't get to add one.  If it's over 300, you lose a finger.  The last one is a choice between fat and calories.  The nutritionist says she likes to go by fat most of the time.  If the total fat content is 10% or less, or it's under 200 calories, you keep a finger but can't add one.  If the fat is over 10% or over 200 calories, you lose a finger.
The idea behind this is, after surgery, the amount of food you can eat is severely limited, so there's no room for empty calories.  You have to eat things that are nutrient rich.  So, if you evaluate your label, and you have any less than 2 fingers remaining, your food is shit.  You HAVE to have AT LEAST two fingers.
She said everybody goes home and checks their cupboard after this lesson, and sure enough, Nathan and I started plowing through.  My Chewy granola bars get zero fingers.  Surprisingly, Nathan's pop tarts got two fingers.  (One of the slides she showed us was comparing Kellog's pop tarts and organic toaster pastries.  The organic had zero fingers, and the Kellog's had two, so beware of shit that is organic, it's not always best.)
We also found that my protein shakes get 2 fingers, but I can add a finger for the almond milk I put in them.  Nathan's goddamn Ovaltine gets 4 fingers, without the milk!  I was pissed.  Aside from unlabeled fruits and veggies and meats, the fucking Ovaltine was the most nutrient rich food in the cupboards.  Even the lentils only had 3 fingers.  Duh.  It kinda forces me to look at food differently.  I don't like snacking on carrots and fruit and whatnot because I never feel full, so I end up eating crap in addition to anything good.  After this surgery I'll actually feel full and satisfied by good stuff.
The class gave me a little bit of hope, but not enough to make me completely optimistic.  I have this fear that something is going to get in my way and I won't be able to have it done.

Even the Mona Lisa is Falling Apart....

I think I need one of those throat scope things done.  I gotten this pain off and on for at least a year now that feels like a piece of glass is stuck in my throat/chest.  I think it's usually worse when I swallow pills or eat something chocolaty, but I'm not sure.  Tonight it's been terrible.  It started around noon and hasn't let up.  I put up with it through water aerobics and now I'm just annoyed.  I'm making some ginger pu-erh to see if that helps.  Ginger is supposed to be good for your gut.  I've probably got a tear or ulcer or something from taking so many OTC pain pills.  I've been trying to avoid those recently and am sticking to the muscle relaxers the doctor gave me.
I also had this rumbling that started around the same time as the esophagus pain.  It got worse after water aerobics and I had to lie down.  Eventually I got diarrhea.  It started out mostly solid and has gradually lessened in frequency and is completely liquid now.  At least I feel a bit better now.
Oh, and my knee hurts.  When I walk it feels like it needs to pop.  I get that feeling in my hips sometimes, but they usually pop immediately.  It hurts like hell for a second and then feels better.  My knee isn't doing that though.  It's the stupid knee I hurt in middle school playing softball.  The doctor then said there was fluid on it that couldn't be drained and it would give me fits when I was older.  I'm sure he didn't mean at the age of 29, but he probably wasn't assuming I'd be a gelatinous blob.
How is it I don't have cankles yet?

Fuck the Holidays

The only reason to look forward to the holidays is a day off of work.  Since I don't have a job, I don't care. The other reason is to see family you don't often get to see, but I'm near my mom and my sisters visit a lot.
I got to Grinnell on Wednesday night and hung out with Squirt and Tron.  We watched Louis C.K, which always cheers me up.
Thursday though, sheesh.  I got to sleep around 2 am, and felt like I slept well.  Mom and Squirt were bugging me to go to bed at 11, and for some reason that made me mad.  I put the quote up on facebook, so you've all probably seen it.  Mom was just calmly telling me to try and sleep, and I was freaking out and accused her of yelling, because in my head it felt like I was getting chewed out.
I heard Mom and Squirt being busy in the kitchen the next morning, so I actually woke up around 8 am.  Mom came in and got me at 11:30 and I didn't put up a fight.  However, the mattress she has hurts my back something fierce, so upon waking me she inadvertently woke a raging bitch.  I was having a dream that I was trying out for some super girl band, and there was a series of tests I had to go through, but I couldn't pass them because someone kept putting an ice pick in my spine.  I was roused several times only to realize the pain from the dream was fucking real.  At one point I yelled out from the pain, but I don't think anyone heard me.
When I was officially awake, I hobbled around some and was annoyed by my mom and sister's perky disposition.  I had 3 things on my mind: my back, my weight, and my dad.  Sometimes seeing his stuff at Mom's place gets to me, and automatically puts me in a foul mood.  My psychiatrist said not to worry, that my irritation is completely normal and will get better with time.
My back, duh, hurt, so I didn't want to go anywhere.  Then when I got out of the shower I was greeted by Mom's large mirrors.  I don't dry off in front of a mirror at home, and can't really see past my torso in that thing anyway, but Mom's are a lot bigger and were right in my face.  I was lifting my belly rolls to dry off and I totally broke down and bawled.  I made sure the fan in the bathroom was on and the door was shut because I didn't want anyone to hear me.  So I sobbed in my towel for awhile.  Mom tried to come in once and I told her to get out, and Squirt came in once and I told her to leave me alone.  I can't stand the idea of my family seeing how gross I am.  And I certainly didn't want to go to Thanksgiving at my cousin's, but I went anyway.  Thank god they have dogs.  When we pulled in the driveway I remembered there were puppies waiting for me, so while everyone else went inside, I played with the dogs for a bit.  One of them is a golden lab type named Rusty, and the other is a Husky or Malamute or mix named Bella.
You can't stay grumpy in the May house for very long.  Kathy May, my cousin, is just goddamn hilarious.  She's the best story teller and you never get that awkward, "there's nothing to say" vibe when you're around her.  Her daughter Shannon is getting married in 10 months or so, and told Kathy she needs to work on her inside voice, or, her "wedding voice" since she's pretty loud.  So all afternoon she'd stop talking and go, "oh excuse me, I forgot my wedding voice."  Maybe you had to be there, but it was so funny.  She just said it with so much sarcasm.  At one point we were all sitting around doing a puzzle and she corrected her voice volume again, and I said, "you know, when you're using your wedding volume, your voice takes on a sort of 900 number tone, so I think you're pretty much screwed since being loud and being sultry are inappropriate."  She was like, "TIFFINI, your truth is not welcome here!"  We had a good laugh.  We were talking about Facebook some and I said I don't keep many friends on it because I don't want people to know what a bad person I am.  Kathy looks at me and goes, "don't you think that's pretty much not a secret anymore?"  Hilarious.
We Skyped with Shannon for a little bit since she was at her fiance's house.
There are 3 kids, Shannon, Patrick, and Alex.  Shannon is the oldest and loves travel.  She's fluent in Spanish and does some translation work, I believe.  She's spent a lot of time in Spain, which is where Alex, the youngest, is right now.  Kathy was telling us the family he's staying with has this little 4 year old girl that is just totally enamored with him.  Kathy was like, "she hangs all over him, and he is getting just what he deserves because he's always been a trouble maker."  Again, you probably had to be there.  Kathy was expressing some irritation that he's not more fluent in Spanish.  The middle kid, Patrick, is kind of quiet and is happy working in Maquoketa as a truck dispatcher.  He likes being near home.  Maybe it's a middle child thing.  I've never felt the need to go off on my own far away, and I don't crave job success and recognition, (don't get me wrong, I'll travel if the opportunity presents itself, but I don't have this need for wild, global exploits).  I'm just happy when I'm able to pay my bills and sleep in a bed that doesn't hurt my back.  Patrick is fluent in Japanese, but he's so quiet, you'd never guess it.

Anyway, we left the May's around 5 and then went to see the crazies and bring them food.  I was completely uninterested in talking to any of them and I wasn't hungry, so I just sat on the couch and talked to Bryan.  He was sensing my irritation so he joined me on the couch and we laughed at various internet memes.
My cousin is getting a little bit of a baby bump, and she's just as goddamn fake as ever.  I seriously hope that baby dies.  I don't care how.  Miscarriage, suffocated by one of Tawny's 8 cats, SIDS, whatever.  She will be the worst mother ever.  Trust me when I say the baby is better off dead.
My aunt started off in dramatic fashion, but then drifted off to another room and was mostly quiet.  When we came in she started hugging me and goes, "I've just been crying all day, I miss your dad so much."  I wanted to punch her.  Mostly because she never sounds sincere when she says it.  She says it in a way that will garner attention.  The whole "oh poor me" routine.  I swore to myself that if I heard her say anything like, "it's so important for family to stick together," or something like that, that I would slay her immediately.  Luckily for us both, she never uttered those words.
Oh yeah, go figure, the animals at that place are stupid, and I hate them.  There's a snotty cockatiel that will try to bite you.  I fucking hate birds.  There's a cat that always runs from me because she only likes men, and there's a shitty little spaniel my aunt inherited from her recently deceased friend that bit my hand the last time I was there, so I hate it.  Fucking bitey little goddamn dog.  I'm sure my aunt is damaging it the way she damages all of her animals, like the dog she used to have that she masturbated.  Yeah.  The "red rocket" game from Southpark?  That's her.

We didn't stay very long, and now I'm in Davenport with Tyne and B-Rye until Saturday.  Bryan said we may go to the shooting range tomorrow, which would be awesome since I've only ever fired a BB gun.  I'm sure I'll suck because of the palsy, but whatever.  I'd like to know how to handle a gun when the zombie apocalypse comes.
Saturday we go to my good aunt's house on my mom's side of the famliy.  I have the same dread that I had for today, but at least one of my aunts that will be there had gastric bypass a long time ago, so they all understand weight bullshit, and they won't be fake or delusional or crazy.

300

I was wondering when I'd see that 3 in front of the other two numbers in my weight.  I went to the doctor today.  She's going to back date all of my gastric bypass forms for insurance.  She said, "you've been at this for quite awhile, there's no reason to start from scratch and make you more miserable."  She asked about my back and I told her it's always been shitty.  Then I started bawling.  Just from a culmination of horse shit.  She's got me on 2 muscle relaxers now.  One has a pain killer in it.  If that doesn't work I'm supposed to call in.  She had me stand and try flexing my back in different positions.  Then she had me lay down and tried lifting my legs.  She could barely move my left leg because my hamstrings are so tight, so I'm supposed to really try and stretch those.
I still feel like shit, and the cats have done nothing but piss me off today, so I'm playing Left 4 Dead with Nathan in an attempt to cheer up.

An Idea

I'm trying to draw more.  It helps my mood, I'm relatively good at it, and I can possibly sell it.  I'm having a problem that I've always had when it comes to drawing.  I can never decide on a subject matter, so I'm all over the map.  My professor in college scolded me for not developing a signature style.  Well I've got kind of an impressionist style down, but I still want for ideas.
A co-worker from Iowa Telecom, Shari Workman, is a fantastic photographer and has given me permission to use her photographs to draw from.  Right now I'm so reluctant to put stuff up on Etsy because of copyright stuff.  I've always just grabbed photos off the internet to draw from.

So....  I had a new idea.  I've always loved human anatomy and that was the main thing I drew in college.  Since I'm in this sort of limbo full of turmoil regarding my body, I feel like I should draw myself.  I don't want to sit in front of a mirror because I just can't hold still for very long.
I just need a lamp for more extreme light and dark and a sheet to put behind me or on the ground.  I'm not sure who I'd ask to take my picture.  I'm leaning toward Squirt or Dee right now.  I think this could be therapeutic, like Mary Lundberg's cancer art.

Fuck

My self esteem has really hit the skids.  I can't stand the look of my body.  I can't stand the look of my face.  I don't want Nathan to touch me.  I don't want to go out, and I don't want people to see me.  I feel like the fattest thing on the planet.  I feel like a slug.  I feel guilty about everything I eat, even if it's a carrot, and I feel guilty every time I feel hungry.  I think, "you shouldn't be hungry, fatty.  You should never eat again."  My hot flashes have been terrible and every time I wake up, whether it be in the morning or afternoon, I'm soaked in sweat.
Skinner is supposed to come over sometime this weekend to look at one of Dad's violins he was interested in buying.  I don't want him to come over because I'm a blob.  I didn't even want my mom to see me tonight because of the way I look.  The person on this planet that couldn't possibly love me anymore, and I don't want her to look at me.
I have a doctors appointment on Tuesday.  I'll be taking the sheets they gave me at the fat clinic for her to fill out.  Maybe she'll hear my plea and back date some of them so I don't have to keep waiting and waiting for insurance approval.  After the 6 months of doctor supervised diet, the only thing I have left to do is the 4 fat classes.  The session for this month started last Wednesday.  I thought all day about going, but couldn't bring myself to go because I didn't want to go out in public, even if it's to benefit my weight loss!  How stupid can I get??  I'd be surrounded by people like me!  It's completely unreasonable, but I can barely describe the depth of self loathing I feel.  I wonder how much I'll weight when I go to the doctor.  Last time I was 290.  I'm probably up to 500 or something.  I hate myself.

Erg

I am in a horrible mood.  I've been snapping at everyone.  I'm not mad about anything, I'm just in pain.  It's my back AGAIN.  This time it's weird, it only really hurts when I'm standing up or sitting in a certain position.  If I lay down it goes away completely.  Mom stopped over here tonight to drop some stuff off on her way to church, and I bit her head off, along with Nathan's.
I don't think anyone can really understand unless they have a bad back.  Mom also asked if I'd made any progress with the bypass surgery.  That made me snap again.  While being obese doesn't help my back at all, it's not the cause of the pain.  Mom said something about how maybe they'd address my back pain after the surgery.  I barked that I don't need a diagnosis, I just need to go to the chiro twice a week until I feel better.  I haven't been to the chiro forever.  Several months.  My insurance only pays for so many visits, and I reached the max a long time ago.
I already know what's wrong with my back.  I don't need anyone to tell me what's wrong.  I need to lose weight so I can actually stretch again.  Oh yeah, Mom asked if I was stretching to loosen up my muscles, and I yelled, "I'M TOO FAT TO STRETCH!"  And I am.  It's easier when I'm in the water, but my gut really gets in the way.
So then I had to apologize to Mom and Nathan, but I wanted them both to just go away.  It just hurts so bad, and I hate living in this body.
Has anyone seen the movie Powder?  There's a part where a group of guys go hunting, and while a deer that has been shot is dying, Powder touches the arm of the hunter and the neck of the dear, and transfers the fear and pain into the hunter.  I wish I could do that.  I feel like people think I'm faking it or it's not as bad as I make it out to be.  I wish I could just touch them and then they'd know.

At this point I don't even care if I get hooked on pain killers.  I DON'T CARE.  I just don't want to hurt anymore.  I'm getting scolded for all the OTC medicine I take to try and dull the pain.  I know I take way too much.  I know it's hurting my stomach and my liver.  I'm not a moron.  But there's a trade off.  Just like there was a trade off with my hysterectomy.  I have hot flashes and other problems now, but it sure as hell beats being doubled over in pain all the time.

When I was referred to Marshalltown for my pelvic pain, before the first laparoscopy I had where they tried to burn off the endometriosis, I was telling the doctor how I coped with the pain.  I told her I could go through a whole bottle of Aleve in a day, and if that didn't help, I'd have a friend squeeze my hand as hard as they could, until I yelled out that it was too much.  It distracted me from the stabbing sensations in my gut.

It wasn't until after that that my doctor gave me Tylenol 3, and eventually Tylenol 4 for the pain.  They wouldn't give me anything until they could actually SEE one of my ovaries sticking to my uterus.  I wasn't making it up.  I'M NOT MAKING IT UP NOW!

I'm always nice to people on the phone, but when I called my doctor's nurse, I bit her head off too.  She was taking her sweet time looking up my info, and I was holding my breath because my back hurt so bad, and finally I just said, "hurry it up!!!"

I'm tempted to go to the ER, but I don't want the bill, and I don't want to have to wait for a bunch of x-rays and listen to lectures about my weight.  And I don't want steroids.  They always make me feel weird and puffy, and I'm fat enough as it is.

All of this bullshit making me feel bad for Nathan.  I hurt too much for sex.  I hurt too much to shower and put on clothes, and I hurt too much to do housework.  (I do most of the housework anyway, so that shouldn't bother me as much as it does.  He doesn't need a medal for vacuuming and loading the dishwasher and taking out the trash).  So he comes home to me, laying on the couch in my underwear, stinking to high heaven.  I'd like to feel good so I can actually get up and put some makeup on and give him a quality bj after a long day at work.  Poor guy.
Although he's the one I'd most like to have feel the pain I'm in.  I really don't think he gets it.  And he makes the biggest fuss over little injuries he gets.  Come on over to my world for a day, baby.  You'll wish you were dead.

A Half Assed Update

I'm sleeping a lot better with the CPAP machine, but now I've got some rebound insomnia from trying to quit Ambien.  I didn't get to sleep until 8 am yesterday morning and I slept until 5ish pm.  
In other news, I feel fat.
When I was painting at the high school this week, I looked at the side of the ladder I was using to discover a warning not to exceed 225 pounds.  I poked Tron and said, "I'd better go, I'm too fat for the ladder."
The ladder held up fine, although my knees and hips were a bit sore from going up and down the damn thing for 10 hours over 2 days.  Oh well.  At least I could climb it.

Also my $130 MiracleSuit fell apart on me.  The underwire came popping out and there was a big rip in the bust.  I bought a Speedo for 50 bucks, but the top of it fit all wrong.  The torso and ass were fine, but my tits were bulging out the sides and pulling the straps down.  I had to order a $70 Enell sports bra to go with it, since those are the only bras that can minimize my tits, and they're just generally fantastic.  The combo of the bra and suit look a little funny, but then again, my fat looks funny, so whatever.  It worked great in the pool and I didn't have any tit issues during shallow water boot camp.
Squirt is on a mission to fix up my MiracleSuit.

NOTE:  I will be accepting payments from Enell for plugging their product.
SECOND NOTE:  I will take down my negative comments about Speedo and MiracleSuit if they send me money.

Goin' Lesbo

I have such a lady boner for Canine Romantasist right now.  Someday her philanthropy will be recognized by the greatest world leaders, and she will be the envy of all of her peers.  YOU'RE THE GREATEST, DEE!!!

Scary Scary

I'm sitting here feeling terrified about my future, so I thought I'd blog.
It hasn't taken me very long to get used to my CPAP, and I can tell it's working.  I didn't fall asleep until 5 am today, but I woke up feeling rested around 1 pm, which is 8 hours of sleep, like normal people get.  I felt sleepy during the day, but I didn't take a nap.  I felt like I could power through the sleepiness.  I've also started cutting my Ambien in half.
At one point in the morning I woke up and pulled my mask off.  I drifted off but woke up 3 different times with a big inhale, like I hadn't been breathing.  It wasn't the gasping most people describe, but I don't snore, so my gasping is a bit more subtle.
So my fear of dying in my sleep has decreased, and I'm starting to feel a bit more functional even though it's only been a couple of days.  I hope it only gets better.  Maybe I'll feel more like trying to find a job since I don't feel like a dried out turd on a long stretch of road all the time.  Seriously though, it's hard to describe how shitty I feel all the time.  And when you think about it, each time I go to sleep, my heart and brain die a little from oxygen deprivation.
Maybe once I start to lose weight I'll feel even better, and more like I'm suitable for the workplace.

Thanks Dad

I just called the sleep center.  I have obstructive sleep apnea.  I have to wait for the equipment place to call me so I can go and get a machine and learn how to use it.  The lady said I had 9.3 events per hour, meaning that's how many times I quit breathing.  She said that's pretty low, but my oxygen level dropped to 76, which is REALLY low.  So, I'm all freaked out now.  And I have a ton of questions.  Every time I talk to the sleep center, they talk to me like I already know all of this stuff.  I don't know anything!  Or they act like someone already told me.  When I called the center I thought they were going to give me a full diagnosis or whatever, but the lady just goes, "you need a CPAP, who do you go to for medical supply?"  I was like, "wait, wait, wait, what's my diagnosis?  What does that mean?  I don't have a medical supply place, I've never done this before!"  I still don't have all the answers I want, so I'm gonna have to call and talk to a nurse or something.  I'm not scheduled for a checkup until January.

A Scary Thought

I've been afraid to go to sleep since my sleep study.  I'm afraid I'll quit breathing or something and die.
And I had another thought.  What if it's my Ambien that's making me fat?  Maybe it's not as hormonal as I think it is.  After my hysterectomy I couldn't sleep, so I started Ambien.  My weight gain really started to take off and get out of hand.  I started hormone therapy to no avail.  In the meantime I'm still taking Ambien every night.  It doesn't help me rest, but it makes me binge eat.  If I indeed have sleep apnea, is it from the Ambien?  Is it doing more harm than good?  Is it relaxing my muscles so my throat collapses, keeping me from getting good sleep and thus making me tired and hungry all day and then binge again when I take it at night???  What the hell is going on??  I want to get off of it.  I'm going to start lowering my dose.  I'll call my doctor and see if it's okay to cut them in half.  I know some pills you aren't supposed to cut.

Oh, and happy birthday to my dad.  Born 10/10/53 - Died 8/3/11

Sleep Study

I had my sleep study done Wednesday morning at 2 am.  I got there around 1:15 and it took about an hour for them to get me hooked up to all the wires.  It was kind of annoying, but I got to watch TV while they were doing it, so I was entertained.
The first wire they hooked up was supposed to be under my left ribs.  When she told me that I was like, "the study will be over before you can find my ribs."  I think that made her uncomfortable, so I downplayed the fat jokes.  I had two wires on each leg, a whole bunch on my head, one by each eye, one on each side of my jaw, three on my chin, one behind my left ear, two on my chest, and two things that went up my nose.  One was an oxygen meter and one was a temperature thing.  Then I had this big thing the wires were all connected to that I had to carry with me if I wanted to move.  The bed was actually quite nice.  It was one of those adjustable deals, where you can raise the legs or raise the head.  I always sleep with a ton of pillows under my legs to keep pressure off of my back, so using that deal instead was kind of nice.  I'm glad I brought my own pillow because theirs were crap.  If I have to go in and do it again I'll bring my own blanket too.

So, the girl that was hooking me up said, "it looks like you're doing the split study."  I told her I had no idea what that meant.  Apparently I should have read the packet they sent me in the mail.  Oh well. With the split study, they started me off with those wires up my nose, then they came in 4 hours later and put a CPAP mask on me.  I asked what that meant and the girl said in the first half of the study I met criteria for needing the mask on.  I was kind of pressing for more information, but it seemed like she wasn't allowed to tell me or something.  Like, does that mean I have sleep apnea?  What does "criteria" mean?
Anyway, so they put that mask on.  I was able to sleep the first half of the night, but once they put that thing on, it was all over.  I woke up about every 20 minutes.  The mask itself wasn't uncomfortable, but there's a constant flow of air that comes through it.  Breathing in is really easy since you've got this rush of air, but breathing out and pushing against it is a real bitch.  It was like trying to breathe out through a stuffed up nose.  And you can't breathe through your mouth or all of the air from the mask whooshes out, and that feels really weird.  The technician said if I didn't breathe through my nose they'd have to put a strap around my chin to keep it closed.  I'm a nose breather anyway, so that was fine.
I had these weird dreams the whole night about some shirtless guy that kept coming in my room to check on me, but he was threatening my family while he was checking my wires.  It was kind of fucked up.
The technicians had to come in my room a couple of times during the night when wires came unhooked, but other than that they left me alone.  There was a microphone mounted to the bed so if I needed help all I had to do was talk and they could hear me.  There was a speaker system too that they could speak to me through.  At one point in the night I was tossing around because I wanted to lay on my side but they told me to try and stay on my back.  Someone came over the speaker and told me I could turn over if I wanted.  It was kind of freaky.  Another time I was kicking a lot and someone asked if I was ok.  I tried to tell them I was fine, but the air coming through the CPAP made it hard to talk.
I woke up at one point and turned on the TV and saw that it was 1:30 pm so I told them I was up.  There were no windows and no clocks in the room and you couldn't have your cell phone on, so I was switching through channels to try and find the time.
Unhooking everything went a lot faster and I took a shower there since there was all of this gunk in my hair from the electrodes.  When I was driving home I was trying really hard to pay attention.  I slept so shitty I was really tired and went up on the curb a couple of times.
I have to wait 3-4 days for the results.  I'm not looking forward to talking to that stupid doctor again.  I've already developed an intense hatred of him based on our one meeting.
I REALLY don't want to have sleep apnea, but I'm pretty sure that's what they're going to tell me.  So I've been thinking about that and wondering, have I always been like this and just didn't realize it?  Is it because I'm so fat?  Is it because I'm taking Ambien?  Is it relaxing my airway or something and causing it to collapse?  I just don't want to sleep with a mask for the rest of my life.  I can tell you that when I'm laying on my back, my tits and chest fat push up against my throat and makes it feel like I'm choking, so I hope losing weight helps this.  I'm still just assuming.  I don't even know what's wrong with me.
I hope they saw how much I clench my jaw when I sleep.  I always wake up with it hurting.  That's one of the reasons I don't sleep with my mouth open.  I'm too busy clenching.


In other news, I went and saw January about my meds, since I called in and requested the increase in Xanax when Dad died.  I was telling her about what was going on and she was so nice about it it made me cry.  When I was talking to her I realized I prefer talking to her as opposed to my therapist.  I don't think I like my new one.  I miss Peg.  She was perfect for me.  Anyway, January said not to worry about being on the higher dose of Xanax.   She was like, "you've got a whole spectrum of problems going on right now.  Losing your dad, sleep, weight.  Just work on slowly getting better, and it sounds like you're going through grieving normally."  That made me feel a little better since I've felt like an inadequate bum lately.

I'm going to wait for this migraine I have to go away then do some homework.

I Almost Forgot....

The asshole was asking me about my meds.  He goes, "these are all depressants and will make you tired." I know.  He gave me this look like, "you'd better get off of these."  I gave him a look back that said, "don't fucking touch those meds if you want to live."  Cock monger.

Ass. ASS!!

Some doctors are just huge asses.  This is why I drive to Newton for my regular doctor.  I HATE finding new ones.
I went to my sleep study consult this morning, and everyone there was so great and so nice, except the doctor.  He was such a dick.  He's got the huge book I had to fill out in front of him, stating why I was there, and he very briskly goes, "so what do you want?"  I told him I wanted help sleeping.  Then he says, "so what's the problem?"  YOU HAVE A HUGE PACKET IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE YOU DUMB PIECE OF SHIT.  READ IT!!!  So I mumble through some of my issues, the whole time imagining slamming his face into his desk over and over.
He repeats all of the questions from the form, and I answer them again, and then he asked about family.  I told him my dad had sleep apnea.  He asked if Dad wore a mask to sleep, so I said, yes, he used to.  Then he goes, "well why doesn't he wear it anymore?"  So I said, "because he's DEAD."  Then he got all apologetic and acted like less of a dick for the rest of the consult.  He said my circadian rhythms were all messed up.  Duh.  I already knew that.  He said he doesn't think Ambien is helping me at all.  He asked if I was ever short of breath, to which I answered, "yes, because I'm fat."  Then he was like, "oh, that's not what I mean."  Whatever, you penis.  Whatever.  He said sleep issues can cause weight gain, since your body tells you to eat when you're sleepy, because it needs energy to stay awake.
That made me think my weight gain is a more complex issue than I thought.  The absence of estrogen makes my body freak out and hold onto fat.  I can't sleep at night because I wake up with hot flashes or whatever, then I eat more because I'm tired.  I don't know.  Whatever.

I go in for the actual study on October 5th at 2 am.  They try to accommodate people's sleeping habits, which is nice.  They had me try on some CPAP masks.  I can't remember if they said they put one on everyone, or if they were just trying it on for future reference.  If this is sleep apnea, I really hope the gastric bypass helps.  I don't want to sleep with a mask for the rest of my life.
I can control the thermostat in my room, and there's a ceiling fan.  I may bring my own little fan.  I'll have my own bathroom and shower.  I have to wear pants to bed though.  BLEH.  Fuck pants.

Oh yeah, while I was in the waiting room, this guy had actually fallen asleep in his chair.  And everyone in the clinic was obese except one old lady.

I had a terrible thought going home.  I am my father.  Sleep issues, weight issues, bipolar disorder, tremors, all rolled into one.  At least I avoid tobacco and I don't drink anymore.  And I'm not on pain killers.

Short Update

My sister took care of me this weekend and looked up how long my COBRA lasts.  I thought it was 12 months, but it's 18!!!  This would be a larger victory if I could afford the COBRA on my own.  Derp.

My sleep study consultation is tomorrow at 11 am.  I'm not looking forward to it.  I have a feeling they're going to scold me.  It's only supposed to last half an hour.  I had to fill out this huge packet.  Maybe something good will come of this and I'll be able to get a good night's sleep for once in my life.  Even when I was little I had a "noisy brain" and couldn't shut it off long enough to sleep.  Seroquel helped that a lot, but I got to a point where I was sleeping the majority of the day.   I quit taking the Seroquel and didn't have anymore real problems with sleep until my surgery.  Now I'm always tired, no matter how much sleep I get.  Curse this wretched body.

OH.  I got a massage on Sunday.  I helped Nathan move all of his furniture on Saturday and my back went out.  I also sprained my other ankle.  Not the one I rolled kickboxing, thank goodness.  During the massage my back was KILLING ME.  There were a couple of times when I wanted to yell at the guy to stop, but I'm glad he didn't.  He was working on my ass since I told him that's where my muscles get the tightest.  He used pressure on these 6 different spots on each cheek.  For the last spot he kind of pushed my ass cheek up, hard.  When he was done with my second cheek and did the shove up thing, my pain went away.  My back is still kind of stiff, but I'm amazed by the good it did.  Maybe I'll start doing that instead of the chiropractor.  I get a total of 5 minutes on her table for 45 bucks.  I can get a whole hour of massage for 60 bucks, and I think you all know how much I love back rubs.  "Back rub slut" is the term Nathan uses.
Tyne and Squirt, after he was done with the massage, he pulled the sheet up over my back and tickled me!  For the rest of you that may sound weird.  He didn't actually tickle me, he ran his fingernails over my back and gave me goosebumps.  My mom's done the same thing since my sisters and I were babies, and all three of us are addicted to it.  Each time we're home we fight for a spot next to Mom so she can tickle our backs.

Everything Is Falling Apart

I just called an insurance company to see if I could replace my COBRA.  They said none of their policies covered gastric bypass, and that they wouldn't even cover me, despite never having a lapse in coverage.  I'm too fat for them to cover.  I'm too fat for them to cover, but they won't help me lose weight.  WHAT THE FUCK GOOD ARE YOU??
There is nothing good in this world.  Nothing means anything.  There is no hope for me.  There is no hope for people like me.

Pew Pew Pew

I'm not in the mood to write an insightful blog, so this is going to be kind of rambling.  I wasn't in the mood to write several pages for my law homework either.  Whatever.

So my first fat meeting was on Tuesday.  It took FOREVER.  My back hurt and I sitting around in those hard chairs for several hours.  It made me incredibly irritable.  However, since I was in a fat clinic, the chairs were double wide!  That was a plus.  A PLUS SIZE!!!  GET IT????  Derp.  The first thing I had to do was fill out some stupid paperwork, then they took my weight and measured my body fat, then took my measurements and my picture.  They did a front and side shot so I'll have something to compare with later on.  All the ladies at the clinic keep saying what a great smile I have, but I can't see it behind the fat.    I had to sit through an hour long deal explaining each of the surgeries, lap band, sleeve, and bypass.  I was trying to guess what each person was in for, and I was only right for one them.  This woman who was about 500 pounds was going to get the sleeve (I thought bypass), a 300 pound man wanted the band (I figured bypass for that one too), and a 250 pound woman wanted the band ( I got hers right).  I was also trying to guess if anyone in the office had gone through weight loss surgery.  I guessed none of them had, but found out today 2 of them have.
The lady doing the meeting was really nice and she gave us a lot of detail, which was nice.  I didn't know you couldn't take any anti-inflammatory pills after the surgery because they'll eat a hole in your gut in a matter of hours.  You can only take Tylenol or get shots from your doctor.  I love Aleve, but I'm cool with Tylenol and god knows I'm not afraid of shots.
After the meeting I had to wait forever to talk to Mel, the insurance chick.  My coverage is actually really good, and one of the rare policies that covers the sleeve.  HOWEVER, she totally popped my bubble when she started talking about how my documentation of diet and exercise probably wasn't precise enough, and I'd have to go through another 6 months of doctor supervised shit.  I find that infuriating since I've been fighting this for a year and a half now.  I'd be less concerned about it if I wasn't on COBRA right now.  My last month for COBRA is December, and if I can't get the surgery by that time, my policy will switch and I'm not sure what their requirements will be, and if I have to start over AGAIN, I'll be livid.  Fat and livid.

This morning I had my surgeon visit.  They weighed me again and did blood pressure and shit.  Despite my disgusting fatness, my blood pressure is really good.  That's something I suppose.  So the doctor went through a lot of stuff I already knew about, but he also said a lot of that I found kind of comforting.  He was talking about how the top of the stomach (the fundus) is where the nerves that make you feel full are.  The stomach is about the size of a football, and sometimes it can take someone a couple plates of food before they feel full.  I feel hungry ALL THE TIME so that made me feel a little better about getting the hunger grumps so easily.  He also talked about the percentage of excess weight that can be lost with surgery.  The average for bypass, over a 5 year period is around 50 to 60 percent.  (I think that's what it was, Dee can correct me if I'm wrong).  I don't feel like getting out the paperwork to check.  He said the average weight loss with weight watchers was 1%, or maybe that was the success rate.  I don't remember.  Whatever it was, I felt a lot better about having it done after talking to that guy.  He thinks my complications will be very minimal since I haven't developed any obesity related illnesses yet.  Other than high cholesterol.
The surgeon signed a paper that will be sent into insurance now, and I'll just plan on seeing my family doctor monthly until I hear from Mel.
I called to schedule a sleep study today to sort out the restless leg deal, and I'm just waiting to hear back from them.

So that's my update.

On a lighter and unrelated note, I had my first voice lesson today.  My teacher is very eccentric.  She's a broken down 70 year old diva.  She was an opera singer in New York for 25 years.  I'm not sure how I feel about her personality yet, but I can tell I'm going to like her technique.  She was teaching me a new warm up designed to focus my sound, and she stops me after a bit and goes, "my god, you have out of this world potential!  I'm going to have fun with you."  That made me feel pretty good, considering I've felt like a piece of crap lately.
Later in the lesson she said said she couldn't sing me any examples because she hasn't sung in years and just lost the ability to do it.  She said, "you're just going to have to trust that I was really good."  I'm glad I'm finally getting back to using my talent.

Kick Ass

I think I just had a breakthrough while watching Kick Ass.  Like, as in the issue I'm having the hardest time with since Dad died.  I couldn't save him.  I couldn't save him from himself.
Back when I was in therapy with Peg, I had to try and work through feeling responsible for everyone.  Like, picking fights with Dad so he wouldn't hurt Mom or Squirt or Tyne.  I would get really annoyed if I felt something was out of my control, and most everything was then.  So now, I feel like I was responsible for Dad, or that I should have been, because he couldn't take care of himself.  I doesn't matter what I would have done though.  He would have destroyed himself regardless.  And I couldn't save him.

I can save myself, though.  I have control of that.  My first fat meeting is tomorrow @ 12:30.

Save Yourself

Couple Drops of Pee

I'm being all nostalgic and looking at old pictures at Mom's place right now and would just like to say I CAN'T FUCKING WAIT TO BE PRETTY AGAIN.  I CAN'T WAIT TO LOSE WEIGHT.  I'm so impatient I could just pee my pants.

My God, A Blog Update!

Why hello everyone.  I haven't blogged in awhile, so here's what so many of you have been begging for! (By so many I mean 2).

I'm still feeling shitty after Dad's death, but I'm back in therapy, so I think that will help.  I'm going every Monday, then we can taper off as needed.  I'm sure I'll continue to need xanax for awhile.  I can really tell when I've skipped a dose.  I'm still having dreams about Dad.  He never speaks in the dreams.  He just follows me, either in his recliner or on foot.  It's kind of funny that since he's died, I've stopped having dreams about killing him, or him trying to kill me.  It's like, mission accomplished I guess.  Maybe it's supposed to mean the universe wastes nothing.  Nothing just ceases to be, it just changes form.  Maybe Dad's still watching me in a different form.  The same thing happened when my grandpa Steele died, although I never had dreams about him after he died.  I always dreamed of killing him, and as soon as he died, they stopped.  Good riddance to that ass wipe.  

I'm enjoying (sort of) my new classes at DMACC and am getting back in the swing of water aerobics.  It feels good to move around in the water.  It's slightly easier since I've stopped using the aqua jog belt.  I find it impossible to sink since I carry my own floatation device around my gut, so I see no need for an extra one.

I've got my first fat meeting set up on the 13th of this month.  A nurse will go through insurance stuff with me and we'll schedule a meeting time with the surgeon.  I really hope we can get this done by December.  Being in this body is a nightmare.

I went to my primary doctor today, as requested by the fat doctors.  She was glad I was doing water exercise, and recommended I try doing recumbent bike, or try to do some treadmill stuff.  I told her I used to love doing the arc trainer, but I don't fit between the bars anymore, and when I did the treadmill, I was so sweaty and sticky and fat that I got a raw spot between my ass cheeks.  I just sighed and said, "I have so many fat problems.  Jesus Christ."  My doctor is so great though.  She told me not to give up hope.  I told her that Dad just died of a heart attack at 57, and she told me to make sure I tell the nurses at my meeting.  I'm also supposed to bring the journal I kept when I was counting calories.  She recommended I start doing that again.  It's a smart idea.
I asked her about losing weight before surgery, since that was something that Dee had mentioned.  They like you to lose some weight before surgery.  She said that might just not be plausible for me, since calorie counting and exercise have not yielded any results.  She said the hysterectomy essentially turned me into a 50 year old woman, but that with some time and with the surgery, I should be able to get my life back.  She said I've got a lot of medications and a lot of hormonal problems that are really slowing down any progress, and that the bypass should give me the push I need to really drop weight.  She said she's seen people in similar situations to mine, and they've had amazing results.
We talked about sleep apnea, since I told the fat doctors I'm always tired.  I told her I had put Nathan on the look out and he hadn't noticed anything.  She asked if I moved my legs a lot or got Charlie horses at night, or felt "the heebie jeebies" in my legs.  I told her I'm constantly moving my legs, from the time I try to sleep to the time I wake up.  I get a weird feeling in my quads that makes me need to move them.  She said it sounds like restless leg syndrome, and is arranging a sleep study for me.  I should hear back on that in about a week.
I also had her look at this little rash by my nose.  It used to be on my chin, but then it healed up on my chin and went to my nose.  It's only on one side and it itches like crazy.  I even made a homemade cream for it, since I'm trying to become a witch doctor in my spare time.  I thought it was just dry skin or irritation from hormone shit.  She told me it looks like acne rosacea, and it can be caused by menopause and made worse by hot flashes or anything that causes extra flushing of the face.  It can also be made worse by stress.  I SURE DON'T HAVE ANY OF THAT GOING ON RIGHT NOW.  DERRRP.  SO...  now I have to take this antibiotic twice a day for three months, then I can back off to once a day, then I can switch to a topical cream.  It's pretty much like having herpes and having to take Valtrex, but every now and then you'll have a break out, even though the medicine is keeping it in control.  I told her what the hell, throw another pill on the pile!
She really is a great doctor, and some of the menopause/hysterectomy stuff she's been through herself, and every time I got there she's like, "it'll take time, but we'll get you on steady ground."
I sure as hell hope so.

Whatever.

I have an appointment with my doctor on September 7th to talk about my weight and dieting efforts again.  Then the bariatric department will continue with the process of getting my gut removed.

I had a dream last night that Dad came back to life.  He was sitting in the back seat of my car, since I was taking him home.  He said to me, "I'm dead and you'll die to if you don't do something."  Then he held up a piece of paper that said "age 33."  Meaning...  If I don't do something about my weight soon, I'll die when I'm 33.  I know it was just a dream, but it freaked me out.  The rest of the dream I was trying to find a home for an abused puppy while Dad watched me from his recliner.  Everywhere I went, he followed me in the recliner.  I had the feeling that I missed him, but at the same time I had a feeling of dread because he was back.  I don't know how I'm supposed to feel right now, and I'm glad I have therapy on the 29th.  People seem to think I should be fine with Dad's death because he was abusive.  But nothing is ever that simple.  It was that simple with my grandpa.  I fucking hated that piece of shit.  But this is different.

Part of my healing process is starting to sing again.  I'm taking voice lessons and joining choir at DMACC.  I get 3 credits out of it.  I'm glad I'll have a full load this fall.  It will give me something to do, but at the same time, I'm stressed out about it.
I always thought of myself as strong.  Strong as an ox.  But now I feel weak as a kitten.  Every little thing stresses me out or makes me panic.  I panic when I wake up, if I manage to sleep.  I panic at night, when I'm trying to get to bed.

I don't know.  I don't know anything.  I can't handle anything.  I feel like I've regressed back to my mental state in high school in a matter of a couple of weeks.  I'm REALLY leaning on my medicine right now.

In Loving Memory.....

This is a little write up my mom did when she and I couldn't sleep.

In Loving Memory of Terry Galen Steele

MUSIC

Terry often talked about the many great people that he used to play his banjo with.  He said he could live without his legs, and would be okay as long as he had his hands and could play.  He said he "sang with his fingers."

He admired his uncle Vic who taught him to play the fiddle.

Terry was offered a job with the Ozark Opry in 1976, but turned it down.  He felt traveling was no way to raise kids, and he had his eye on Mary.

There are many memories of going to Columbia, MO yearly to watch different bluegrass groups play every half hour for 3 days.

Tyne was 10 days old when she went to her first jam session.

Tiffini was 2 when Terry and John Purk went to various bluegrass festivals.  Tiffini wanted nothing to do with John, so he bribed her with M&M's.  She then would sit on his lap.  Years later, when visiting Mary's family, Mary's brother Paul was teasing Tiffini and said, "you don't know who I am, do you?"
After thinking a little while, she responded, "John Purk?"  Mary realized she needed to spend more time with her family!

FAMILY

The girls grew up with music.  Tyne started violin lessons at age 3.  By the time she graduated high school she could play 9 instruments, including, (but not limited to), piano, bassoon, clarinet, violin,  and contrabass clarinet.  Tyne was an All State performer on bassoon, and plays with the Quad City Symphony in her spare time.  Tyne is also an accomplished vocalist, specializing in harmonizing with her sister, Tiffini.  They've performed together in variety shows, for funerals and for weddings.

Tiffini inherited her singing voice from the Steele side, and also played piano, trumpet, french horn and mellophone.  Tiffini was an All State vocalist in high school and the youngest in the high school to obtain an outstanding performer award in singing.  She went on to win the senior choral award, and had several roles in musicals starting in middle school.  She was Marian in the Music Man, Maria in the Sound of Music, the narrator in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, and was asked to join the cast of Big River as a soloist.  With nothing but bluegrass played in the Steele household, Tiffini in her rebellious teen years asked, "why couldn't I have been born into a classical family?"  The family had a good laugh.

Alexis chose the theatrical route.  She was in many high school, college, and community plays, and went on to join the Brownville Theater Company during college.  She also lived in Pennsylvania for a few months, working at a Renaissance festival.  Since then she has had small roles in local movies, including playing a zombie in the upcoming film Collapse.  Alexis now lives in Chicago, continuing to nurture the acting bug.  When Alexis was born, Terry's comment after the announcement of "it's a girl" was "look how long her fingers are!  She'll play the violin or banjo."  Alexis has shown interest in learning to play the mandolin, and will hopefully continue to blossom musically.

Education was important to Terry.  He wanted his girls to have more opportunities than he had.  Terry did not get a degree and he did not want that for his girls.  After high school, Terry went to Northeast Missouri State University (now Truman University) for one year.

WORK

Work was very important to Terry.  He was proud of the fact that he helped pour the concrete for the Robintech building in Grinnell.  His employee number was 1.  He stayed with this building throughout his career in plastics.  He did everything from blending the PVC powder to extruding to calibrating dies.  He worked his way up from foreman to tool and die manager.

Terry was able to travel for work, going to Austria to purchase equipment 3 different times.  Terry loved history and was able to tour a concentration camp while in Austria.

He worked with Henry Corbel from France and Henry proposed a challenge to Terry.  If he could get a certain percent of bubbles out of the product, he would give him half a bottle of wine.  Terry exceeded the challenge, and received a full bottle of wine.  At that time Terry didn't drink, but that's not what was important to him.  He loved a challenge.

Terry also worked with Horst Eigruber from Germany and understood the language enough to communicate and defend his knowledge when discussions were held in German.

Terry was told by another Austrian co-worker, "you must move to Austria, you can learn nothing more from the United States."

ANIMALS

Terry loved horses.  The family raised and showed Appaloosa's and POA's.

Terry shared his love of dogs and hunting with his grandpa, "Booger" Steele.  Tyne was 5 months old when she went on her first coon hunt.

Terry loved fishing with his uncle Jerry. One year Terry was in big trouble when he talked Jerry intro going fishing on his anniversary.  Jerry called his wife and said they were going to be a little late.  Betty, his wife, responded, "you'd better be catching a lot of fish!!"  They definitely did.

Terry built a barn for the horses.  After the shell was constructed, he designed and built the stalls and doors himself.

KNOWLEDGE AND SHENANIGANS

Terry loved the challenge of computers.  He crashed the home computer 4 times just to see what he could get away with.  He read each computer manual from front to back.  He loved to read and he loved to learn.  He never simply read a book, he memorized them with frightening accuracy.

Terry had his friend and right hand man at work, Rich Wedmore, play Santa for the girls.  One year, when the girls were getting a little older, Tyne went to Terry and whispered, "I know what Santa drives.  It's a red truck."  Tyne was then strongly warned that she was not to tell her sisters.

Terry was a practical joker at work, and if he saw someone with plumber's crack, he'd make a point of pouring some coffee down the offending butt crack.

RANDOM MEMORIES

Terry was an amazing physical specimen in his day, flexible and strong.  He was proficient in some gymnastics and could easily pull off the iron cross.  He was a skilled martial artist as well, which definitely impressed Mary.

On many many many occasions, he used his knowledge and strength to save each member of his family in one way or another.  Whether it was knocking a bull off its feet when it threatened his young daughter, or protecting his sister from an abusive boyfriend, even after taking a shovel to the face, Terry was always there to help and was fiercely protective.

It Hurts

I don't know how much I can really write about this subject.  But I'd like to get out what I can.  Forgive me if this post is just a cluster fuck of random thoughts.

When I was a wee one, I idolized my dad.  He was strong, he was protective, and he was kind.  When I got just a bit older, it became obvious he had a temper.  Most of the time, everything was fine, but every now and then he'd blow up and it terrified my mom, my sisters and me.  When I started high school, things got progressively worse.
I've listed a bunch of stuff he did in the past, and I don't really want to remember it right now.  By the time I got to college, I think he was at his worst.  I avoided going home, and my sisters and I begged Mom to get a divorce.  When the divorce actually happened, there was a restraining order and I reached the apotheosis of my anger.  I didn't speak to him for a year.  The restraining order didn't involve calls, so he called the house quite a bit to talk to my mom.  If I answered the phone, I'd scream at him to go to hell.  Every night I prayed for him to die.  A few times he was on the brink, and I wanted him to tip over the edge so badly.
After a whole lot of therapy, a diagnosis of bipolar disorder, (for dad and I both), and many delicious pills, I felt better, and started rebuilding my relationship with him.  It was a slow process, and when I did spend time with him, I felt like I had to fake my affection.  I always kind of felt like that, even up to the end.  I could never forget the evil things he did, but at the same time I remembered what a good man he used to be.  It was hard for me to understand why he was the way he was, but more recently, it became kind of obvious.  Mental illness, combined with a lifetime of physical pain, (beginning with a TERRIBLE car accident when he was in high school) and a subsequent addiction to pain medication, made him deteriorate quickly.
He was so intelligent when he was younger, and during his career as a tool and dye specialist, he traveled the world, helping develop plastics, primarily in Germany and Austria.  He could have been anything he wanted.  He was a brilliant musician, and although he couldn't read music, he was a master and could play anything by ear. Banjo, violin, guitar, basically anything with strings.
As his health declined, it got harder for him to play, and he gave it up for a long time.  He started playing with a band again a few years ago, which brought him a lot of joy.
The more he crumbled, the more he isolated himself from any friends he had.  He hyped up and made up stories that made him look like some sort of super hero.  It would be easy to say he was just a delusional braggart, but I don't think he could handle the idea of becoming feeble, and he spent so much time in this dream world, that it became real to him.

A lot of people have asked why I didn't confront him about stuff he did to us in the past.  I honestly think it would have literally killed him.  His delusions kept him from realizing what a tragedy his life was, and how horribly alone he was.  I know he had glimpses of reality, and seeing his reaction to those periods of lucidity broke my fucking heart, and I don't mind that he leaned on drugs and fantasy to keep going.

Talking with his girlfriend Deb today was like a knife in my heart.  At one point he was considering doing meth.  She freaked out at him and told him to get rid of it or she was out of there.  He threw it out, sat down in his recliner and broke into tears, sobbing "please don't leave me alone."  I completely lost it and had to have my sisters and brother in law take me to Tron's house.  I cried uncontrollably until I fell asleep on him.
I got that same heartbreak when we went over to the house to kind of make amends with our insane aunt.  She had some pictures of him sitting out.  He was so happy in all of them, and when I got to one of him grinning from ear to ear with me sitting on his lap, I just thought I would die.  I haven't been able to really stop crying since then.
It's like a Shakespeare tragedy.  Everything seems so senseless and avoidable, but in the end it all turns to shit and you're left wondering why.

I seem to do okay until I think about how lonely was.  I just can't take it.  I didn't think this day would be so hard.  I've expected it to happen for the last 5 years.  Now that it's actually happened, I feel crushed and empty.

I'm finding some solace remembering the last couple of times I talked with him.  The most recent was the beginning of June.  I was cat sitting for my fucking bitch of a cousin, (long story), and he came over to visit.  I was working on accounting, so we talked a little about my classes.  He talked about himself for a long time, which I was fine with since I know he didn't have anyone to talk to.  At one point, after telling some story about how good he was at something, he stopped, leaned back, and closed his eyes.  He said, "God, why did you do this to me?? ......... you didn't, I did this to myself.  I had this coming."  That was one of his lucid moments.  I couldn't take it and I started bawling.  I spilled my guts to him.  I told him I'd been mad at him for so long, and hated him at times, but that seeing him lose everything and spend his days miserable and lonely made me sick with sadness.  He wiped my tears away and said he loved me, and that no matter what, he'd always be proud of all of us girls.  We cried together for awhile, then both got a little more light hearted, and he went home.  We had talked for about 3 hours.

Not long after that I was sitting at home, thinking of childhood shit, and I had to call him.  I couldn't stand it.  I told him I just called to say I appreciated him, and that through all the bullshit and misery, I remembered all the good things he did, and the times he literally saved out lives.  Like the time one of our bulls had Tyne pinned up against the fence.  Dad ran straight at him and plowed him over.  He literally knocked the bull off of its feet.  There was another time we were out in the barn, and one of our iron tamping posts had fallen over and was going straight for my head.  I didn't notice until I saw Dad's hand come out of nowhere.  He had seen it and ran up and grabbed it before it hit me.
When Alexis fell off the hay elevator and fractured her skull, Dad kept Tyne and I calm.  I called 911 and he stayed with her in the barn, completely calm, making sure her head was stabilized and that no one moved her until the ambulance got there.  
There were other times that I don't remember, but have heard stories about.
While I was telling him about the things I remembered him doing for us, we both cried again.  He didn't stay on the phone long, but I was glad I had called.  That was the last time I talked to him before he died.  I bought him a father's day card, but I never took it over to him.  I asked the funeral home to burn it with him.

The night after he died, I couldn't sleep.  Mom couldn't either.  We just stayed up and talked.  We were talking about how behind he was on all of his payments, and Mom mentioned something my aunt's boyfriend had said.  Dad was too proud to ask for help.  It used to be that he'd call Mom when he needed help figuring out a budget or something, but as bills piled up, and he lost control, he couldn't bring himself to ask anymore.  I can't be mad at him for leaving so much debt, and letting his life insurance lapse.  I just can't.  All I can think about is him, alone, trying to pay his bills, but constantly being hounded for money by my cousin or other leaches that saw him as an easy mark.  What was he going to do?  Help his niece or pay the water bill?  He helped his niece.  He helped people he thought needed him.  Once, when he knew I needed some money but knew I wouldn't ask, he said to me, "I want to give you this.  I want to help you, because you never ask me for anything.  You're independent, just like me."

I thought I slept last night.  I hadn't slept in about 30 hours, so I took 3 Ambien out of desperation since 3 am rolled around and I still couldn't keep my eyes closed.  I thought I slept, but Mom told me I was yelling out in my sleep all night.  Bryan said I calmed down around 8 am.  Mom still couldn't sleep and was up and around all night, and she said at one point she put her hand on me and asked if I was alright. I don't remember any of this, but apparently I told her no.  And I'm not.  I'm trying to be, but I have this overwhelming feeling of guilt that I'm having problems with.  I need to go see Peg, my therapist.  She knows all about my situation.  She was my therapist during the worst of things, and helped me get past the uncontrollable anger I felt.  I need her to help me again.  Should I have made more of an effort to keep him involved in my life?  Is it ok that I was still kind of mad at him?  How the hell do I work through all of these goddamn contradictions??  I HATE HATE HATE feeling this way.  I wish someone would give me a pill to make me stop feeling.  I wish I could have seen him before he died.

On the car ride home tonight, I took the opportunity to really let stuff out.  I cried, hard.  I screamed and screamed and screamed until my throat hurt and I thought I would puke.  I'm in pain, and I don't know what to do.

I love you, Dad.  I'm going to miss you.

Pappyson

Dad died.  Things have been BEYOND a cluster fuck here, so I'm stressed out and don't want to talk about it on here right now.  I'm pretty sure most of the people that read this are friends with me on facebook, so you all have the details by now anyway.  I'll post more when I've got a clearer head.

Interesting.....

So Mom was telling me about this lady at her church that had gastric bypass, and after she lost a lot of weight she looked really good, and her friends wouldn't talk to her anymore because of her success.  I thought, "what the fuck?"
I'm very lucky to have really supportive friends and family.  I feel bad for that woman.  My friends and family don't care what I look like.  They love me for who I am.

This is a weak blog, but there you go.

Product Plug

This product plug is for PrairieLand Herbs.  Kudos to your wise woman face cream, kudos to your plantain infused oil, and double kudos to your rosemary mint body powder.
The wise woman face cream has healed up the nasty eczema that's been on my chin since my surgery.  It also healed up the dry itchy patch on my arm that I was convinced was cancer.
The plantain oil has helped a couple of things.  I have a crack on the side of my mouth from... opening it too wide or whatever.  The oil cleared that up, and I also put it on a canker sore and it was gone the next day.  I used it on a spot on Nathan's leg that was super itchy.  The next day it was almost completely healed.
Now for the powder.  OH GOD THE POWDER.  When I get out of the shower, I immediately burst into flames.  I have a fan on me and all that and it's just miserable.  I tried regular body powder, but it just felt kind of sticky, so I hated putting it on.  This stuff, rosemary mint arrowroot powder, is AWESOME.  It's silky smooth, it smells so minty and fresh, and you get a big cooling sensation as soon as you apply it.  It's the only reason I find showers tolerable right now.
I can't wait to order more, and I've ordered some plantain tea.  Plantain, (the herb, not the fruit), is excellent for detoxifying blood and a bunch of other shit.  Couldn't hurt to brew some up and cleanse the system.

In other news, I would like to drug myself into oblivion so I can sleep.