NITRO

Nitroglycerin
Tiny little bitter pill
I hate you so much

(bad haiku #something I don't remember)

Jabs

Today I got an 8-tube round of  blood tests for Dr. Whackadoo. Oh, and while I was there I got a flu shot.  And I'll be damned, I had to settle up a bill of $98something to get that *free* frikkin flu shot. Deductibles suck. 

I see Dr. Nutjob "No Fly List" on Oct 5, and Dr. Whackadoo on Oct 11. 
If I don't get SOME kind of drug from either one of them there will be wrath.  I'm tired of being dicked around, dammit.  I am tired of not being able to DO anything physical because some asshole can't write the right prescription.  FFS I can't even take a shower anymore - shower water actually hurts me.  I have got to find someone to help me and it's got to be soon.  DAMMIT.

My Art being used as Art!

I sold faces on stretchers to some Dutch guy and this is what he made: 

They are also wearing my skins and autopsy scar.  OMG I love it when people actually buy my crap and then make something with it that I can see and appreciate!  This is perfect Halloween horror at its finest!  Yay Dutch guy!  lol

Meh

A lovely day of dental torture and a long ass drive = rhinoceros-sized legs and screamy chest.  Dammit I should just stop trying to leave the house.

By the way, for the rest of my life if I have to have dental work of any kind, I must take antibiotics in advance of any treatment.  Yay.  Stupid heart.

Turtles Flee Harrah's for Better Pickin's

Very few turtles were at Harrah's gangplank today. I took my camera, which has lately turned into a lame piece of shit.  Although probably at least 100 pics were *taken* only about 15 are on the drive, and out of those 15 maybe one or two is worthy of salvaging.  I'm pissed. I need a new camera.

Anyway, I must have gotten the Harrah visit dates mixed up.  I need to get there earlier in the year in order to see the hundreds and hundreds of turtles - when its still really hot outside - like July or the first part of August.  Apparently the turtles are already starting their hibernating for the year.  Bah.  Turtle trip = FAIL.

I did get a plate full of grilled oysters - a dozen or so from Paula Deen which were relatively yummy.  I tried to contain myself with the rest of the buffet since I know it's loaded with butter and other evil things. Dammit.  I actually choked down a plain boiled potato with my oysters. Yuck.

I am never again supposed to eat raw oysters due to health reasons. I am also not supposed to consume sushi, however last night I actually had an entire spicy tuna roll from Benihana with no ill effects.  I did eat about a teaspoon or so of wasabi on each slice - supposedly the wasabi kills the bad stuff in the sushi.  I always ask for extra wasabi.  They bring me a golfball sized lump on its own little plate with my order.  "Oh look, it's that wasabi woman again...I wonder what she wants this time?"
 
I am so looking forward to my next exotic disease/strange sushi parasite due to my hazardous lifestyle. Yes I am a sushi eater. Dammit, I can't help myself. At least spicy tuna rolls are fat free...mostly...what fat there is is in the tuna, and it's the good kind of fat.

FLAMING SPACE BUS SUCKED UP BY BLACK HOLE

Meh.  Of course NASA has no idea where the bus-sized space trash landed. Obviously it did not land on me.  They assume the fiery bus entered the atmosphere some time between 11:30ish Friday night and 1:09 this morning. I was in bed and not wearing a hard hat.  I actually DO have a hard hat. Probably several if I looked hard enough. How fortunate for me and for NASA that my name was not on any of the various flaming parts, since I was not wearing the appropriate safety gear.

Hard Hat

If I leave the house today, it will be while wearing a hard hat to fend off any space junk that's aimed at me.  You KNOW there's a piece of something with my name on it, since my luck is so shitty.  I can only hope it falls through the roof of my house so home owners' can pay the damned thing off. 

2nd Opinions

I decided to not go ahead with the muscle biopsy. I am now seeking 2nd and possibly 3rd opinions.  Of course I have to do this within my insurance guidelines, and the wheels grind slowly if you're not actively dying. Gee.

In the meantime I have steroids, which I intend to take. I KNOW it will cut back on all the inflammation I have. There are other symptoms it will likely improve, but the inflammation reduction is definite.  That means my pain will probably improve. Yay.  Too bad that relief will come along with  the hideous side effects the steroids always produce.

OK, NOW I'M WORRIED

I got sent home from the biopsy because I was supposed to have a driver with me.  I had no idea I was supposed to be anesthetized. I thought I'd get a local, if anything  Apparently they will take an ice-cube-sized chunk of muscle out of my quadriceps.  I'm not happy.

I thought this would be a relatively no big deal thing.  I didn't know I'd be mutilated AND have all the risks associated with general anesthetic, and have my tiny little grinch heart stressed in the process.  I'm pissed.

I'm calling the neurologist first thing in the morning -- his ass better be at the office.  I am supposed to go back to the surgery center tomorrow at noon.  I'm doubtful I'll be there...at least not without giving my neurologist a thorough reaming first.

Biopsy

This afternoon I have to go to a surgery center and get a biopsy. I'm not nearly as worried about the stupid biopsy as I was all the additional heart tests.  The Neuro guy says there is only a 50% chance of it showing something evil.

Meh, even odds aren't generally deemed good, however with everything else I've had taken into consideration, the odds of having yet another strange, odd and deadly disease are hopefully pretty slim.

(Shit, I should not have even spoken it into existence - too late now.)

If it is indeed something evil, I have big plans for many bacon sandwiches, fried bologna, liverwurst and cream cheese, cake with rose icing....you get the idea.

There is only one test remaining after this biopsy - a CT scan of my hurty screamy boobs. Then all the scheduled tests will be over and hopefully I can lay on my stupid couch and be left alone while I sleep a lot and watch shitty daytime tv.

Mayo

I am a big mayonnaise eater from way back.  I prefer Hellman's from about 10 years ago, before they decided to model themselves after Kraft and their texture got runnier and sloppier.  Blegh.

I like a good, premium mayonnaise.  The kind for which one must pay $5 per pint, if it can be had at all.  If you feed me home-made mayonnaise I will follow you around like a puppy every day for the rest of your life, never leaving your side, merely waiting for another taste of said mayonnaise.

Light mayonnaise saddens me.  There is something about it that is decidedly off--namely that they have replaced most of the oil with water and left out the egg entirely.  ::insert vomiting noises here::

Good old mayo is on the list of foods I must never never ever have.  DAMMIT!  The list gives the tip, "use mustard or catsup instead."  WTF? I suppose the list maker never tried to make tuna salad with catsup, or tartar sauce with grey poupon. What could they have been thinking? What could have possessed them?

But what if I have just a teeny little dab of mayonnaise on my tuna or turkey sandwich? Because teeny dabs turn into middle-sized dabs which turn into entire heaping tablespoons.  *sigh*

This also means I will never again be able to have one of my all time favorite sandwiches: The Arkansas Roundsteak:  A slice of bologna fried crisp, topped by a slice of melted american cheese, served on two slices of white bread and finished off with a generous slather of REAL mayonnaise.  Hrmph.

PLbbbbbbt

My brother was supposed to visit me this weekend.  Monday through Friday, his alter ego is a UPS man.  Apparently he hurt his back at work last week and has been consuming Vicodin like sweet tarts.  Probably no visit for me.

He did say that now that he knew my little grinch heart wasn't going to stop cold within the next few hours, he felt better about eating his Vicodin and staying home.  Meh.

It's ok, I don't think I could have put fresh sheets on the spare bed without screaming.  Not to mention the rest of my pigsty is not very stylish these days. I guess it evens out in the end.

Fall-like Poop Rake

What a lovely and cool day, perfect for poop raking, and otherwise tending my fragrant garden.  I can last a lot longer if it's not punishingly hot outside. I so wish the dogs had thumbs.

I stopped the mowing service for the year.  I managed to get  Starvin' Marvin's phone number (whose actual name is Li'l T) when he came here to sell candy for school. Hopefully he'll mow for me next year and I won't have to mess with the lawn service asshats.

I'm still weak and sickly but geezo, what a difference a day makes without a diagnosis of impending doom hanging over my head. 

Whackadoo's Nurse

Whackadoo's nurse called me and wanted to know how I was getting along on my new dose of prozac. I gave her a good talking-to.  I told her I was not sleeping because of pain, NOT because my prozac dose was too high.

Picture this...I'm sleeping, I turn over, the turn puts pressure on my ribs, causing a sharp pain, causing me to wake up.  Pain is keeping me up, dammit.  Pain.  Did ya f*n hear me that time, ya silly twat?  Usually when people make appointments with pain doctors it means they have PAIN.

Despite this ridiculous phone call, my mood has improved today. Now that I know my heart is not going to immediately blow up, I feel slightly better.  *eyeroll*

Grinch Heart

A tiny Grinch heart
Thumps and pumps inside my chest
Almost like normal

YAY

No new blockage!  Prayers/good vibes worked!

The heart doc actually said to me, "Your heart looks almost normal, well...except for that dead part at the bottom."   -.-  (The *dead part at the bottom* being where the heart attack actually occurred.)

I am still very sick, but at least I know it's not my heart, which is a relief all its own.

So now we look elsewhere for the weakness and shortness of breath. The Neurologist takes over at this point.  I get a muscle biopsy on the 20th, and immediately after that I begin taking a giant daily dose of steroids.  I should be  bulky and surly by the first part of October. If I have to stay on that dose, by December I should be able to make the power lifting team without even trying. (I am teasing, of course) (Gasp: maybe my ass knobs will fill out?)

They expect the steroids to also help with my pain issues, since they believe the pain to be caused entirely by inflammation.

And yes, I told the heart doc that the pain doc was a complete whackadoo.  The heart doc refilled my oxy, and will be calling the whackadoo to "give him a good talking-to."    *eyeroll*

Pain Quack

What a crock. He's reducing my Prozac dose.  I told him I was severely depressed.  I told him I cry every day all day for no apparent reason at all (well, other than I'm depressed).  He thinks it's keeping me from sleeping.  Dammit to Hell, I went there for intolerable pain, not for sleep deprivation. He wants to see me in 4 weeks.  He said they work on one drug at a time.  Fuck him.

Tomorrow I see the heart doc again to find out about any impending doom. I get the results of the hurty screamy echo test and the thallium stress test. The last time I was at this point, they ordered a cardiac cath to find out exactly where the impending doom was, and 3 days later I was having a bypass. *sigh*

I am also complaining about this Dr. Blotner character, the Pain Specialist, who apparently is of the belief that taking away an antidepressant is the same as prescribing an analgesic.  All I know is I cannot wait 4 weeks for a pain script.  SOMEBODY is gonna have to get off their ass and write one for me, and it better happen...um....7 pills from now. 

Incidentally, it pisses me off that prescription refills have to go right down to the wire.  Dammit one or two days is not gonna make a rats ass in terms of dosing, but it sure as hell can make a big difference in planning a car ride or a delivery or a pickup.  I HATE the stupid drug industry in all its various guises.

Hurty Screamy

Hurty screamy echo test went just as I expected...with my hand around the tech's throat and both of us screaming.  Actually, I restrained myself, but it really hurt a lot. My chest is so extremely sore and painful - I wish they'd figure out why and do something about it.

Thallium stress test also went off without a hitch.  It is merely uncomfortable and unsettling, not painful.

I will get the results of these tests on the 13th at my next visit with the cardiologist.  Or they will call me if they see something bad.  They did say to me today that if something shows up on these tests that is TRULY horrible, I would know right away, because apparently I would be whisked away in an ambulance.  Since I drove myself home, I am assuming I passed.

More tests and appointments next week.  What I really want to do is lay in my bed, take my drugs, and RECOVER, while everybody leaves me alone and I don't have to drag my ass all around town from office to office and torture to torture. 

Bidness and a Coot

The *Southern Bidness* I was complaining about a couple of weeks ago has finally been taken care of for the time being.  It was almost worth the 4 hour round trip "drive of horror" from which I now have to recover.  My legs are swollen into things that kind of look like rhinoceros legs and/or umbrella stands.

 I tried to pull over around every 30 minutes and get out of the car to walk around a bit - I was warned to do that by the heart doc, in case I had to take any longish drives, to try to help prevent clots.  I don't think I'll ever attempt to fly again unless it's first class, or right on the wing where the extra leg room is.  I doubt I could afford to fly first class so it looks like I am doomed to Chinese Fire drills every 30 minutes or so.

If I am needed somewhere in the country and they can't wait for my slow ass to drive there, they'll just have to do without me, dammit.  Or maybe the train if I could get a sleeper.  That might be fun, but the train is notoriously slow - it takes even longer than driving.

I met the most charming old coot today.  He was like the grandpa you always wanted and kind of resembled a human-sized lawn gnome, minus the stupid hat.  He was adorable, in a coot-like way, and and we had quite a conversation.

I finally make it home, after all damned day to find that SOMEONE (Tater) has *skizzled* the living room rug.   ::shudder::    Like I needed to scrub the damned rug after an all day torture session with business types.  Dammit.  Tater is now locked in the sick room.  I have demolished two entire cans of spot shot and ruined a bunch of bar towels.  Frikkin dog.  This will require the rug doctor.  Ugh.  Rice and chicken for the big old doofus...and I'm considering muzzling her when she goes out in the back yard to stop her from eating whatever the hell she's eating.  Nasty.  Ugh.  Phooey. Rug scrubbing hurt me - will probably be extra sore tomorrow.

:(

I cannot possibly take one more syllable of bad news. I am shutting down for the day, and possibly for tomorrow so my head does not explode.

Hanging On

One more day and I get to see the neurologist. Maybe he can help with the pain or the inflammation causing the pain, or even some of my weakness. I really hope so. I don't want another heart operation.  This has just GOT to be something else and not another blockage.  I think if it was a blockage they would have seen it the first time.  At least, I hope this is the case.

This particular neurologist I had seen last year at which time he ran a bunch of tests.  I had a follow-up visit scheduled with him, but his nurse called me and said he had left the country for whatever reason and they wouldn't let him back in - apparently he was on the watch list.  Jesus.  So now he's back, and not a moment too soon.

One more day.  I've been doing that a lot lately, hanging on for one more day.   Sometimes hanging on for one more hour. I hate grasping at straws, but the neurology straw is only one of two I have left.

420

The cardiologist's nurse actually suggested I get some smoke.  I asked if I could get a prescription.  Nope, this is not a state in which they hand out prescriptions.  Naturally.

Besides, I'm sure smoking would help my heart. She said, "No, silly, you eat it, or take it in a pill."  *sigh*

I'm sure IF I could come up with something it wouldn't be in edible form, or pill form for that matter. And I'm not in a brownie baking mood, FFS.

Look, I have a bad heart.  My bad heart is not getting better. WTF is the big deal with prescribing narcotics if I'm not gonna get better?  WTF is wrong with you people?  I HURT, goddammit, I hurt.  How much more plain can I be? You can actually look at my chest and visually see where it hurts.

I have to look into hospice care, pending next week's tests.  Maybe they won't be so tight with the friggin drugs.  This is beyond ridiculous.

Empty Bucket

I always wanted to ride a mule to the bottom of the Grand Canyon.  Nope, can't do it - too physical.

I always wanted to ride standing up on the back of a circus pony. OMG too physical. Besides, I would have had to had started training for it some 45 years ago.  I did realize however that horse acts were the most reliable of all the circus animal acts and if I had to be in a circus it better be involved with horses in some way.

Tail of the Dragon.  *sigh* Riding it in a car just ain't the same.

Oyster feast trip to New Orleans, followed by bignets every morning. Yeah, right. Would probably drop over dead the second day.

Lobster feast trip to Maine.  Meh.  Not sure I could choke down a lobster without a generous supply of butter.

Hawaii - and I wanna stay in one of those tree house huts that are accessible only by taking a 4WD vehicle up a river.  (Actually for this one I probably wouldn't survive the plane ride.)

Almost forgot this one: Have a grilled cheese sandwich with a glass of ice cold golden guernsey milk. ahhhhhh. My favorite dairy breed AND bar none, the best tasting milk on the planet.

My bucket gets emptier every day.

5 days

I am so horrifically sore I can barely move. My natural inclination is to wrap my arms around myself just under my boobs and press as tight as I can.  That actually does make my chest feel a little better.  It makes me wish they still taped ribs.

(Which now makes me wonder about some kind of soft corset or even if a longline bra would help me--I see more catalog orders in the future).

 My first appointment is Wednesday.  I just have to hang on until then. Until then I will just have to continue to suck. Wednesday at least provides some gimmer of hope, however small.

Oww

Surprising how much faster days are flying by when I'm trying to get better and nothing is working.  All it does is seem to amplify how much time I DON'T have. Like today I said to myself, "Holy crap, it's Friday."

I've been watching Animal Planet a lot. The news depresses me so much I can no longer watch it.  Animal Planet is pretty depressing in its own right, with their plethora of mangy, dying dogs, cats trapped in sewers, and skeletal horses. 

Maybe I should start watching nothing but cartoons with a sprinkling of comedy channel thrown in for good measure. I am attempting to find a craft or something I can do, but I just don't have the concentration or focus.  I have a complete inability to *do* anything other than lay around and try to be as numb as possible.

My standards have lowered considerably.  Instead of wanting them to fix me, now I just want the pain to stop. I hope somebody can do something soon - I can't stand much more.

No Dick! + (New Addendum)

A friend started me thinking about icky old Dick Cheney and his shitty heart.  He told me if I get discouraged about my heart, I should think about Dick Cheney, and all the multiple heart surgeries he's had.  I reminded him old Dick had unlimited money and the best health care package in the country. 

I would like to talk to icky Dicky, however, politics aside.  I just want heart info from him, if he'd even give it to me truthfully.  He is 20 years older than I am, but I'm sure his information might help me.

I want to know if everything he eats tastes like wet ashes?  I want to know if he cries for most of the day? I want to know if he feels helpless or if his ribs feel like they're going to fly open every time he coughs?  I want to know if he feels like he's going to faint if he takes more than 5 or 6 steps?  I want to know if he's too worried or too afraid to sleep.

I'll never know. With that little pump thing he's wearing I expect they're probably prepping him for a transplant as soon as a heart becomes available.  He'll be one of the few that gets a heart while the rest of us drop like flies around him.

Addendum:  My friend John E. says Dick Cheney has never cried a day in his life.

*A dear friend of mine wrote a poem/rant in honor of this particular blog post (and for me)...it warmed the little cockles of my heart, it did. The link I originally used no longer works so this is his poem, just for me:

The Two Hundred Fifty Sixth, September 13, 2011

By D. M. Lee

I have a very dear friend
hard to believe I know
her story asks a question
no one wants to address

she is trying to recover
following heart surgery
it is not going very well
she struggles each day

bills take all her money
weakness drains her too
unable to do very much
self-esteem taken away

wondering every morning
if today is her last day
will she have more life
ever able to live it again

television adds insult
floating across the screen
the face of Dicky appears
her tax dollars at work

She struggles for treatments
he has all the best care
she can't make appointments
he has doctors come to him

she has not shot a friend
she did not begin any wars
only supported a nation
that is turning their back

we conveniently forget
those that need our help
wounded veterans, the poor
lost children, and homeless

where are the priorities now
that hypocrisy becomes law
care only for the wealthy
providing for their greed

compassion is left behind
the charge of those who care
typically poor themselves
yet they can still find ways

shame upon the narrow
the greed filled and blind
who only seek their pleasures
missing the real point of life

I will pray for my friend
giving the hope that I can
knowing how she struggles
as I cry at the injustice of greed

Cancel

I had to cancel a vet appointment I had this afternoon for Tater's annual shots & stuff.  I'm just too weak to do it.  Naturally I was pouring tears the whole stupid time I was trying to talk to the vet staff.  They understand, at least.  Tater is put on hold until they figure out what's going on with me. 

I quite possibly might be all cried out for the day.  My head feels strangely far away from the rest of my body--kinda floating above me like a Macy's parade balloon.

I'm afraid. The only thing I can do is try to sleep and hope I feel a little better when I wake up.