Maybe I’m not the world’s most knowledgeable about music. Actually, I’m far from it. I’m well aware. However, I’ve been enjoying Miranda Lambert’s newest album. Her voice isn’t too girly. Of course she sounds nothing like a man. It’s a personal opinion of mine that male voices are more appealing, so being that her voice isn’t high pitched is a positive in my book.
When I first heard this song, “Only Prettier,” I loved the last line. Hence the title of this posting. It’s odd for me to pay attention to anything I’m listening to, so why this lyric? Well, you could say it’s because I’m not skinny. If you decided that was the reason, you’d be right in the assessment of my weight, but not as the direst reason. I really like that she’s able to do what she wants because it’s what she wants. And, honestly, when you’re happy, you’re more beautiful than any diet or any amount of makeup could create. It makes me sad that so many people seem to forget or simply bypass the truth behind beauty.
So, what makes you happy? I’m not sure I always can answer that question, I’m not sure I could answer it now. Maybe it’s an easier question to answer when you’re actually happy. Last night I had a talk with my roommate, whose uncle recently committed suicide. She was neither close nor well known to this relative, but it was still sad. We eventually ended up on the topic of depression. I told her a story about myself from when I was 16, one I share with very few people. I am not ashamed of the story, I just am wise enough to know that not everyone can understand what happened and why I made the choices I made at the time. To be completely honest, the story may have made her incredibly uncomfortable and strange, but hopefully it didn’t. I told her how in the month following my tonsillectomy I found it hard to find even the motivation for a shower. There were a few weeks where my showers were separated by at least a week. I think things have gotten a little better. But, I don’t really know either.
Last I posted, I was headed to Missoula. Initially these appointments were made to have my regular check up with an endocrinologist and then to make sure my tonsils have healed. I can’t even begin to tell you how thankful I am the ER gave me a copy of my blood test results when I was there a couple weeks ago. It gave me the time to see how many of my numbers weren’t right. It gave me time to realize this endo appointment may be just a bit longer. I am just so glad. I’m one of those people who like to “know.” Had I been blindsided with the idea that so much of my body and its systems hates me, I may have fallen apart in his office. But I knew going in things were off, I came in with a list of questions. The appointment lasted two hours and was followed by a trip to the lab for some bloodwork to further investigate my body’s hatred.
My initial reaction to any problem, tough time, anything, is to shut off my emotions. And, really, this was pretty much the same. After a week or so of not feeling it catches up to you. I feel like I’m not exactly human. I don’t know how to answer questions, so I give facts. I tell them what I know, I do not share what I feel. In turn, the response is usually that of their interpretation of how I SHOULD feel. My boss gave me a hug. My neighbors/coworkers/roommates said the situation sucks, things are happening ‘one after another’ and then try to mention a positive. So, now that I’ve gotten everyone else’s feelings, I think I’m ready to figure out mine. My first ‘feeling’ was anger. I allowed myself enough leeway to feel anger immediately following the appointment. I am/was angry at diabetes.
Diabetes is usually my go-to for blame. And, usually, I’m right in my blame. It’s something diabetes is messing with to make me feel sick or to cause some secondary problem. But of all the problems I discussed with the endo, get ready for this, it’s big…NONE of them are diabetes related. Yes, NONE. Nada. Null. What the hell?!?!?! I seriously cannot blame my body’s sudden complete deterioration (or so it seems…I know I’m overreacting) on the one thing I thought would be at fault. It seems silly to be pissed at diabetes for not being a viable blame. Over the few years I’ve been working on discovering emotions, I’ve learned that they are silly. Often unwarranted and completely irrational. So, I’m willing to accept this silliness and be pissed off.
Now that I’m ready to move on to more realistic feelings, I feel angry and sad and defeated and done. So done. I had my mid-service review on Thursday. It was a meeting with my boss to discuss performance. In the end they give you one word answers for your strengths and weaknesses. My strength: perseverance. My weakness: illness.
Let’s touch on my strength first. This is DIRECTLY related to my medical status. I mean, head on, stare you in the face, nothing to do with performance. AND it was one of the innumerable times I’ve been told ‘if it were me, I’d have gone home a long time ago.’ WHAT THE HELL?!!?! What the hell other option is there? If I gave up on something every time my damn body decides to be stubborn, I think I may live in a box. Lows happen. Highs happen. Sickness happens. Is it enjoyable? Never. Is it fun? Hell no. But what’s the other option. Give up on any idea of a purposeful, productive life?
My weakness, that’s not even related to my medical issues, it IS my medical issues. When I’ve had “strength/weakness” conversations in the past we’ve discussed things that can change. Things that are character or personality strengths and weaknesses. What am I supposed to do about illness?!?! I take vitamins, I rarely miss a med dose, I pay attention to my body’s every feeling and change. I can do nothing about this issue. Nothing at all. Granted, it HAS inhibited my work production. But, is it really a weakness? I see it as more of a shitty situation.
My reactions to my review may be due to my hypersensitivity to all things medical in my life. I know this, so I am keeping it to myself. My boss doesn’t need to know how offended I am by a review that lists my sole weakness as illness. AND my sole strength as something illness related. But, I can’t tell you how much it hurts. It’s like my life is all about my dumbass fucktard of a body. Why can’t they tell me I’m open and I don’t actively participate in community stuff? What’s so wrong with those assessments?!
Back to the appointment findings…The good news: my throat is all healed, I take good care of my diabetes and the endo doesn’t feel the need to micromanage and have me fill out those damn basal rate check forms.
The less than positive news: my endo thinks I have Grave’s Disease, there’s blood in my urine which could mean nothing to cancer, my neuropathy is not related to diabetes and he felt it necessary for me to, based on a scale of 1-10, judge the possibility of me being pregnant.
Going backwards, I answered 0, there was no chance I was pregnant. He then felt it was necessary to order more tests, not a pregnancy test, to figure out what was going on in that department.
The neuropathy being related to anything but diabetes pissed me off. THAT is supposed to be diabetes’ fault. So, in a couple weeks I’ll be headed to the neurologist in Missoula to have a nerve conduction study. Oh goody! He told me it wasn’t a horrible procedure but to not expect sunshine and roses…and to expect some discomfort to borderline pain. The test doesn’t bother me. I am well aware I have neuropathy, and I’m glad he’s wanting me to figure it out as best possible. I am pissed that it’s not related to diabetes. It just means my body has more issues.
The urine in the blood. So very secretive. My body doesn’t like to have straightforward, obvious problems. It seems to take pleasure in the random, hard to find problems. Yay for that. Being that it’s so not cut out as far as what the cause of this may be, I’m choosing to not care. Well, I do care, I did the extra tests to figure it out, but I’m not worrying. When I have some idea of what the problem is and may be, then I’ll spend some time trying to figure it out.
Grave’s Disease. Well, Adam Graves was one of my favorite NHL players, perhaps it should bring me pleasure to think I may have ‘his’ disease. Being that it’s actually not named after him and it’s a shitty disease, I’ve decided I will take no pleasure in it. My aunt battled Grave’s Disease nearly a decade ago. She still bears the scars of its wrath. As a woman in my mid-twenties, with no security of a man loving me despite having one eye larger than the other in a very obvious way, I’m pretty not excited about the problems this could cause. I’m not a very superficial person and am not one anyone would tie the word ‘fashionable’ with…but I am very self aware. My aunt wouldn’t allow a picture to be taken of her for years after. At the time, as a young teenager I didn’t understand, I still loved her and didn’t know why she wouldn’t want a picture taken…now knowing this could be something I could face…I get it. I obviously don’t have an eye problem currently, but knowing it could happen, it makes me more empathetic toward her feelings of photography. Does that make sense? I don’t want to sound like a complete ass. My mother believes my aunt did nothing to treat Grave’s, I do know she treated some of the problems associated with the disease…the eye, for one. I know she still has vision problems in the one eye. The treatment options for Grave’s are thyroid suppression pills, a thyroidectomy or radioactive iodine. None of these sounds rather appealing. But, we’ll get there when we get there. My endo said I should have the results within a couple weeks. So, as of today, I have 10 days left of waiting. Have I mentioned how BAD I am at waiting? There’s nothing to be done though, so I will just have to wait.
Some of the other positive news from the endo were related to my meds. I have gotten to the point where doctors take note of how MANY meds I am taking. It’s costly and makes me feel like I’m a sick person, so I mentioned the desire to remove a few from my regime. He felt that it was unnecessary for me to be on my cholesterol med. I’ve stopped taking Ambien, but still not sleeping. Since Ambien did not help me sleep, I figured what’s the point. He approved my self-doctoring removal of Ambien. He also started me weaning myself off Cymbalta. Cymbalta was a pain in the ass to get on. I was sick for nearly 3 months. So, I’m on day four at a half dose of Cymbalta. My body is hating me for it. It hates everything I eat. It hates letting me sleep. I feel like I have the flu. I feel shaky and jittery. BUT, I will be off the stupid med. He did put me on a new thing for neuropathy, which also helps with sleeping. It’s only one small pill at night though. I’ve also finished my antibiotic, steroid and antifungal meds. I am proud to announce I only take Novolog, Cymbalta (til I’m weaned off), this new med, Metformin and a birth control. I know that seems like a lot, which, in the “real” world it is a lot of medication for one mid-twenties female. But, I’m working on accepting how not “average” I am. My reality is not the same as the “normal” world. Screw normal. Who needs it. This may just be a defense mechanism, because I honestly still SO badly hate being the exception. I want to be the rule. I will probably never be the rule, the sooner I can get over the desire the better. Plus, being the exception means I’m more interesting, right? More appealing? More unique?
My coworkers/neighbors don’t even know what to say to my face anymore. I wish they knew how much that hurt. I don’t blame them for this reaction, I really don’t. I’m not mad at them. They’ve resorted to asking my boss what’s going on with me. She doesn’t feel comfortable answering and tells them it’s okay for them to ask me…which of course they never do. One of said neighbors/coworkers came by my house today to ask me if he could borrow something, he ended up asking me what was going on. I told him. He doesn’t know what to say. He said it sucked, it seems it’s just one thing after another and politely laughed when I mentioned at least I could drink again now that I wasn’t on antibiotics or pain meds. He also then said I should come to tonight’s campfire. So, I may take a shower, put on real clothes and make my way out and try to be social. I’ve felt anything but social as of late, but I suppose I can try.
God, look how depressing all this is! Do I get an award for most depressing dblog? I hate that I’m so far from my typical positive mentality. At first I felt bad divulging all this mess, over the last few months. Now, I think I’ve come to terms with it…this is where I’m at right now and this is what’s going on, why not write about it. I just wish I had something more humorous or witty to focus on in my commentary. Oh! I guess I have two potentially NOT terribly mood-depressing stories…
I saw a baby bear on the side of the road on Monday. He was absolutely adorable. We are now the closest of friends.
I nearly ripped my ear off. Unbeknownst to me, I had sunburned the top of my ear, which then blistered. I was brushing my hair and the brush nicked the top of my ear. It tore the whole blister off! It hurt for a few days and is now well on its way to healing. But man, it was certainly unpleasant. Poor ear. :[
Well, I made an effort to lighten things up. Effort counts for something, yes?
Oh! My sugars…I’ve hit below 300 twice today…one of which was 298, the other 246. Can’t get them down. It really isn’t helping with me already feeling crappy. Ha! At least I can blame diabetes for…umm, bad sugars?