Oscarisms

After my SCA I couldn't remember the initials ICD let alone implantable Cardioverter defibrillator. Could not do it. While referring to it, it became that THING, the Thingy, you know the Thing. Then it needed removed. Months later I was going back under for a new fangled subcutaneous one. It was to be called a Thing 2. But upon waking up I'm told, Thing 2, died a quick death, and therefore Thing 3 was in me. Thing, Thing 2, and Thing 3. Altogether have caused untold pain in my life. Four surgeries in total. Implant, Explant, Debridement, and Implant. The initial implant site under my left collarbone can hurt like hell. It's a strong deep ache at times. The actual device sitting along my left ribs though causes PAIN. Red hot fiery pain. Without being careful, bending over can feel like the device is tearing it's way out of me. Something simple like tie-ing shoes, is agony. Lower cupboards, the fridge, items off floor can cause me to see stars the pain is so sever

My son, my little boy, not so little any more actually, did something these past four months so far outside his comfort zone that I'm not sure I could be any prouder of him ever. The Aspergers kid, the autistic one, you know, "that" kid. The one no one is friends with, the one that is always left out, the one that always feels alone. Yeah, him. As an option in the first term of Grade 7 he was stuck in both Art, a disaster waiting to happen, and Drama, a what were they thinking choice. Art, the place where you get dirty, you touch texture things, stuff gets under your nails, stuff is on you after washing. The absolute worst place a sensory kid could be. He touched the clay, he moulded the clay, he had an idea in his mind and he brought it to life. He shaped, formed, and fired a Tar Pit Monster. Then he painted and glazed it. I get this call will you come pick me up? He didn't want it broken on the bus. It's awesome. Drama, the kid that can't stand even putt

My fear, anxiety , my absolute terror of needles, dentists, blood had me hyperventilating and crying in the chair at the dentist before I even saw The dentist. I felt like a complete baby yet had no control over any of it. Is this my new normall? I received  the lecture on trying to save the tooth with a root canal and crown but no guarantees. Without that tooth I have nothing on that side to chew with or hold my top plates in place. This in turn will trigger my TMJ.  Me the person that is phobic about proper oral hygiene and freaks out at bad teeth, has this issue and three other cavities. I'm heartbroken, scared and just horrified. Simple $$$ dictates it be pulled. The dentist very sneakily snuck in the first needle and it hurt. It was like a huge electrical shock against my tongue and cheek.  The tooth disintegrated under the tool, and needed to be drilled out. It was terrible.  It froze well but lots of pressure. How do I make the change so the rest of my life is no

I had a massive breakdown crying spree on the stupidity of higher education a couple weeks ago. I received a beautiful brand new accounting certificate in the mail.  During the summer all Canadian accounting organizations merged into one. I went from being a CMA to being a CPA. EXCEPT I'm on permanent disability, never to work in accounting again, mailed the new certificate in error during the merging of data bases. I worked so very hard to get an education, to ensure it was in a field that would always exist, to ensure I'd never be on the poor side of poverty again.  The uncertainty of life is hard. 

If spring is seen as a new beginning is fall seen as an ending? The dormant browns blanketing our scenery would seem to think so. There I'd nothing to indicate any hope ahead, just more bleakness.

Crying at the drop of a hat. Tears for any sentimentality. Emotion carried on the cuff. Ready to explode at the tiniest thing. Emotions are overwhelming.

I'd gone into hospital July 13, released October 19.  I couldn't walk more than a few steps unassisted.  I hadn't done a stair in 4 months.  I get home and my house is three stairs up from ground level.  There I am in a wheel chair with no way in.  I was so determined. I crawled out of the chair and up those stairs like a baby learning how.  Scraped knees and palms. Once I was inside the wheel chair came in. But our house has weird halls and it was virtually useless.  

The needle sticker dudes attitudes killed me in hospital.  I had no veins, none at all.  Yet the needle stickers were "it's just a little prick". OMG.  No it isn't "just a little prick".  You will try three times. Then in ten minutes someone else will try three times then ten minutes after that someone else will try three times. Do that every single blood draw that was scheduled every three hours, day in and day out.  It's "NOT JUST A LITTLE PRICK). It's 72 little pricks ... 72.  And the sly comments  "oh if it was that bad you would have a Picc line".  "It's not really that bad".  I knew what needed to be done, where it needed to be done, and what it needed to be done with. But what did I know, I was JUST the patient. I couldn't have a Picc line due to infection. I blew out IVs and central lines. I had anesthesiologists come and try to find veins with ultrasounds. I had my feet used. It was traumat

What does a person do when they are breaking? When there is nothing to look forward to? When there is nothing but pain? When there is nothing but anguish? When there is nothing but a deep black hole of nothingness? There truly isn't an explanation or understanding of depression until you are there. Every single time you've hit rock bottom and think you can't possibly go down any further and yet something happens to go even deeper. I was recently asked by something what I did with my time. I had to think about it. What time? The time I don't have because I put out one fire after another? The time that's spent just surviving rather than living? Speaking with some people recently about the subject of suicide. It's not like I'd ever deliberately kill myself, it's a matter of just not wanting to live. Not live like this. Why did I fight so hard to live? Why was I so stubborn? Would it have been better to just fade away?

Gender finding was brand new when we had our kids. Both my husband and I said it didn't matter, we just wanted healthy babies. Some family and friends really gave us a hard time for not finding out. But we held firm. It doesn't matter as long as it's healthy was our reply. We were given that illusion of "healthy" for years until two very different diagnosis gave us two very special needs kids.  First at age 7 our youngest, our boy is diagnosed with Aspergers. Which a while later is changed to autism, ADHD, possible odd, and high anxiety. Certainly a handful to deal with every single day. Followed at age 12 with our oldest, our daughter being diagnosed with a sudden Arrythmia death syndrome long qt type 5.  what we wanted above all else, healthy kids, was denied to us. We thought we wouldn't be able to handle special needs kids, but we are. As parents we find that strength from deep within. 

Here is the Wiki Definition. In psychology, confabulation (verb: confabulate) is a memory disturbance, defined as the production of fabricated, distorted or misinterpreted memories about oneself or the world, without the conscious intention to deceive.[1] Confabulation is distinguished from lying as there is no intent to deceive and the person is unaware the information is false.[2] Although individuals can present blatantly false information, confabulation can also seem to be coherent, internally consistent, and relatively normal.[2] Individuals who confabulate present incorrect memories ranging from "subtle alterations to bizarre fabrications",[3] and are generally very confident about their recollections, despite contradictory evidence.[4] Most known cases of confabulation are symptomatic of brain damage or dementias, such as aneurysm, Alzheimer's disease, or Wernicke–Korsakoff syndrome (a common manifestation of thiamine deficiency caused by alcoholism).[5]

One day, then another, then another. So many days all strung together. Where do they go? I realized tonight that I don't like to start things because I'm scared I'll fail at them. Weird thought eh? So I just don't. I don't want to be a failure. I want to be a success. My entire life others made me feel less. Less worthy, less able, just less. I just can't seem to put myself in that spot of making myself feel less. I didn't used to be this way. (Bad grammar eh?) I used to start all kinds of stuff. I used to take risks. I used to put myself out there. But now, I'm safe, secure (but oh so unhappy), in this little box I live in.