Blogging is Stupid

But since I haven't posted forever I might as well.

I found out a couple weeks ago insurance denied my gastric bypass.  They called me and left a message, so I called them back and left 3 messages and never heard back from anyone,  so I called the bariatric center and they told me what was going on.  They were already in the process of appealing, so I typed up my 6 months of calorie counting and dropped it off for them to send in.
According to United Health Care, the surgery isn't medically necessary and I have failed to demonstrate a motivated attempt at weight loss.

GO.  FUCK.  YOURSELVES.

The level of hypocrisy is just off the mother fucking charts.  I call in to switch my COBRA over to an individual policy and right off the bat they ask me my height and weight.  Then they say I'm too fat for them to cover.  BUT, the surgery isn't medically necessary.  IF I'M THE EPITOME OF HEALTH THEN WHY NOT COVER ME???  Oh, right, being morbidly obese is a huge fucking problem but you're playing it down because I only have two months of COBRA coverage left.  Right?  RIGHT????

So now I'm waiting for the appeal and desperately trying to develop deadly mind powers so I can kill all of those who oppose me with a single thought.  I may need some nuclear waste.

Let's see...  anything else?  Not really.  I stopped taking my Ambien and have managed to get myself on a semi normal sleeping schedule.  I've been going to bed at 11-11:30 and getting up at 6 or 7.  I've been having trouble staying asleep throughout the night, but I've been avoiding naps, so that helps.  And I haven't been bingeing at night since I'm not taking the Ambien.
Oh yeah, I need a new chiropractor.  My Des Moines one moved to Colorado.  I'm scared to make an appointment with a new one because I figure they'll just tell me to slim down and my back will feel better.  I need to go though.  I can feel that catch in my lower back that keeps me from standing up straight.  I really enjoy embalming, but being on my feet for several hours kills my back and I usually can't move the next day.  Losing weight will help substantially, but I've always had a bad back and I always will.  TOO BAD TREATING MY OBESITY IS NOT MEDICALLY NECESSARY!!!!!!!!!!!  Dumb fucks.  Jesus Christ, I hope you all fucking die in a fire.  A fire that was started using dried feces.

I Hate Everything

My worst hot flashes are the ones where I'm drenched in sweat, but at the same time I feel ice cold.  These are the hot flashes that make me feel really lightheaded and make me feel like I'm going to pass out.  Those are the hot flashes I'm having right now.  Bleh.

I was supposed to find out last Monday whether insurance was going to cover my surgery or not.  I didn't hear from the bariatric center Monday or Tuesday, so I called on Wednesday and they told me they were playing phone tag with my insurance.  Apparently insurance had an issue with my psych clearance and length of diet and exercise.  Mercy sent them a duplicate fax, reiterating my psych clearance was crystal clear and 100% good to go, and they had 7 months of diet/exercise documentation from my doctor.  That was the last I heard.  I don't know how hard the hospital will fight for me.  There are some doctors of mine that I know will battle for me, but others I'm not sure about.  I've never really dealt with Mercy before, so I'm really anxious.

What else was I going to talk about??  I don't remember.  Maybe it was unemployment.  I don't know.  Whatever.  I don't feel good.

Oh God The Yeast

OH GOD THE YEAST!!!!!!!

Seriously.  The yeast.  I'm operating an entire bakery in my vagina.

My tea tree failed.  Now I get 3 weeks of Diflucan.

Creator/Destroyer

Had my last dr. appt before insurance submission.  When I went in I got on the scale, figuring I'd gained another 20 pounds, but I'd lost 4.  She seemed so excited about it.  I'm pretty sure I pissed it out that morning, so I told her to go to hell.  We discussed the usual, so now I'm stuck holding my breath, hoping they recognize my efforts.
My doc told me the couple of people she sees that were at my weight and had the surgery lost 50 pounds the first MONTH, then the rest of the weight came off slower.  Did I mention how violently I'm holding my breath?  I want this done before summer.
My vag is rotting out of my body, so I have a standing prescription of Diflucan now.
I hate myself so much.  SO MUCH.  Nicest thing I've heard lately?  "Yeah, you're fat.  So what?  I find you magnetic."

Lately I've been weird.  Must be the hormones and repressed desires.  I watch a lot of TV.  I won't apologize.  I've had this thing where I want everyone in my various TV shows to hook up romantically.  And I cry about it.  I think it may be a reflection of me feeling distant in my own relationship because I feel so unappealing.  It's not enough for me that Nathan doesn't care what I look like, and he loves me no matter what.  I WANT TO FEEL GOOD.  Intimacy is 500 times better when I actually feel sexy.  I want to feel sexy again so bad.  I want to feel like putting on makeup and doing my hair and putting something on other than an old t-shirt and stretchy pj pants.  Fuck this.  Fuck my life.

More Meds.... STAT

I may need to increase my psych meds.  I haven't felt this depressed in awhile.  I always dwell on how shitty I look and how fat I am, but today was the first time since college I woke up and thought, "I hate myself.  I'd be better off dead."  I can't go back to that place in my head.  It's so hard to get out of it.  At least when I was on Danazol I wanted everyone else dead.  Not myself.  As my little sister once said, "you'd rather kill others instead of yourself.  That's a healthier place for you."

I'm also having pelvic pain again, so I'm scared to take my estrogen.  I really wish I hadn't had to push my appointment back, but it's coming up soon.

Grave

I was still fuming about my aunt stealing my dad's grave marker when I was on my way out of town, so I stopped at the cemetery.  My cousin has put all this detritus on Grandma and Grandpa's grave, and it looked like she had put a wreath or something on Dad's.  The wreath was godawful so I threw it away in the trash can they had sitting there and pulled out some stupid looking plastic flower stumps.  Then I took one of the plaques sitting on Grandma/Grandpa's headstone about tears and Heaven or some bullshit and put it firmly in the ground in front of Dad's grave.  If she fucks with it again, I'll bite the rest of her goddamn fingers off.

Crazy

I'm in Grinnell right now helping the high school kids not suck at painting their set for the spring musical.  I'm staying with Mom, and since we've both been sad lately we ended up talking for a long time about Dad.  Maybe it's because I was watching Ghost Adventures.  She told me my piece of trash of an aunt was high and left this message on her phone saying Mom and us girls were going to be damned to hell for not having a tombstone put on Dad's grave yet, and we were going to hell for putting "the family" through this.  We had other bills to pay before we thought about getting a tombstone, including insurance for the house that my aunt is living in illegally.  And we've already picked out a stone.  (As far as the house is concerned, there's this thing with the title 19 stuff she gets.  They paid to redo her house or something.  You're not allowed to have bills in your name at a second property and you have to live in the house.  Well, she's been living at my grandma's house for a few years now, and has someone paying her rent to stay in her house.  Not cool and very illegal.) 
Anyway, she went to the cemetery and pulled out Dad's grave marker so we wouldn't be able to find his grave.  RETARD, he's right next to Grandma and Grandpa, and we all already know where his ashes are buried.  Fucking moron.  Regardless of that though, I'm pissed.  First of all that's theft.  Secondly, he hated his fucking cunt of a sister.  She's fucking evil, and so is my cousin.  I hate them both so much, sometimes it consumes me.  At least I don't have to have anything to do with them anymore.  They deserve all the misery they live with now plus more.
After Mom relayed this story to me, she asked, "are you ready for another shock?"  Well duh, yes.  So Mom was having lunch or something with Dad's "girlfriend" Deb.  She's pretty nice and she loved my Dad.  Awhile ago my aunt lost part of her fingertip, and she had told all of us that Deb turned on the garbage disposal while she was digging something out and it chopped her finger.  Deb told Mom that's not what happened.  Dad and my aunt fought all the time, and one of the fights I know about he punched the shit out of her face.  Dad was worried for a long time that us girls hated him because of it and lied, saying she fell or something stupid like that.  I wasn't mad.  I didn't give a flying fuck.  If I had to live with her I would have broken her face too.  Well I guess they had been fighting again, and my aunt was doing this thing where she was jabbing her fingers into Dad's chest, over his heart.  Mom said she's seen her do it to John, my aunt's boyfriend, and it hurt him bad.  Well she did it to Dad and it pissed him off.  He grabbed her hand and fucking bit the tip of her finger off.  Deb said she saw it, and she saw him actually spit the tip of her finger out of his mouth.  Afterward he went to his room and locked himself in, and my aunt went to the garage and curled up in the fetal position and just mumbled to herself.  This doesn't make me mad either.  I wish he would have chopped her goddamn arm off, BUT, it's just so clear how far gone he was before he died.  Now that I'm studying the human body more in depth in school, his insanity and his cruelty make more sense.  Bipolar disorder, brain damage from a car accident, brain damage from years of ignoring his sleep apnea, brain damage from his pain medication abuse, brain damage from his heart attacks. 
Now that he's gone, I feel protective of him.  I've bad mouthed him more than anyone throughout my life, and I think I was justified, but my little sister said it best when she wrote, "he was a terrible person, be he loved his kids ferociously."
It's easier to see that now, so I feel like I have to defend the Dad I knew when I was little.  The Dad that knocked a goddamn bull off its feet when it pinned my older sister.  The Dad that held my little sister's head to keep it from moving when she fell off the hay elevator and cracked her skull.  The Dad whose lightning reflexes kept a tamping post from falling on my head when we were doing chores.  The Dad that gave us rides in the tractor bucket and gave us all the money in his wallet when we wanted to ride the heart flip and the sidewinder at the county fair.  The Dad that brought me back a hammock from Austria because he knew I wanted one so badly.  The Dad that taught me not to take shit from anyone.  The Dad that was so proud and bragged about his daughters to anyone who would listen throughout his whole life.
Dad's lawyer/our lawyer told us that Dad would come into the office sometimes, fighting mad and red in the face about one thing or another.  His will, Grandma's will, whatever.  The lawyer said he knew exactly how to calm him down.  He just had to ask about his daughters.  It was like a light switch would go off, and he'd calm down and start smiling while he talked about us.  I have to stop, I'm crying and can't see the computer screen.