Thursday, September 25, 2014

LIfe is Funny, in A Really NOT funny way!

I have been a participating member of society for 39 long and functioning years, so I am not sure why it still surprises me that people are self entitled MORONS, who feel like they can walk in and take over shit like they own it.  And furthermore, I have no idea why I feel like I need to be the bigger person who makes it ok for this to happen so that tsunami waves of shit don't roll in causing mass chaos everywhere for everyone else.

They say shit rolls downhill, right?  Well some days, I feel like if that's the case than I am at the bottom of that hill, in a hole dug at the bottom of said hill, being covered in shit.  If I'm not at work trying to mind my own business and not bury a pair of scissors in some self entitled morons forehead for their ignorance and all around rudeness, I am sitting in an urgent care facility thinking I have a sinus infection and a spider bite, only to be told I have shingles.  ON MY FACE.  Which ya know, just HAPPENS to be the most dangerous kind of shingles someone can get because it's all like near my FUCKING EYE AND BRAIN and stuff so now I have to worry that I will go blind and start slurring my words even when I'm not drunk - which isn't much lately because of the aforementioned self entitled morons and all the scissor stabbing that needs to take place.

I'm trying to be all unicorns-and-rainbows-coming-out-of-my-ass-happy ya'll....really, I am.  But life is having a really good time fucking with me and seeing how many things it can throw at me before I finally flip my shit and go all sniper coo-coo on top of a 7-Eleven taking out tailgating drivers and people that still bump Snoop Dogg out of the sub-woofers in the trunk of their beat up Hondas.  It's gonna happen.

Let's take inventory of the last two years.

  • I spent EIGHT long months being tested to find out why I was in pain all the time.  I was poked, prodded, violated, de-blooded, medicated, shocked with nerve conductors and cat scanned to death to find out why my vision was blurry, my feet/hands/mouth were numb and why I had a never ending migraine.  These were just on the non-Muscato days, mind you.  My husband isn't a Doctor, no matter how often he likes to play that game.
  • I received a diagnosis of MS.  Not something anyone wants, but at least it was a diagnosis.  Over the course of six months I would try several different medications and treatments, each one making me more sick than the next, NONE of them bringing me any relief or comfort.
  • After another round of testing (over two more months and several more doctors), it was determined that I did NOT in fact has MS, but I had my original diagnosis of Lupus and the cherry topping to that would be another diagnosis of Fibromyalgia.  OK, then.  You're funny, life.  Real fucking funny.
  • Just as I start to get my shit together and find the right combination of meds (and also regulate a severe B-12 neuropathy), I happily head off to my nieces 2nd birthday party only to BLACK THE FUCK OUT, trip and fall IN A WALGREENS PARKING  LOT and break my arm.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  • Arm heals.  Life resumes.  Things are starting to get back to normal once again.  I harmlessly go in to see the GYN for a yearly exam and some hormones.  What does she find?  Why a lump of course!!!  So, let's schedule a mammogram in TWO MONTHS and a BRCA test and then you can decide whether or not you would like to live in fear of WHEN you may or may not get breast cancer, or just have them puppies cut right off and  take a brand new pair for a spin.  Who wouldn't like a brand new pair of perky titties for their 40th birthday courtesy of their health insurance provider, right?  I mean hell, that lump could have just saved me $5k!!  Oh look, a silver lining! *insert sarcasm here*
  • And then......shingles.  On.  My.  Face.  Because why would I get it on my stomach like a normal human being?
I am pretty sure that in a past life I was the office bitch who tortured everyone.  Or I pulled the whiskers off of small kittens.  Or kicked crippled kids.  Surely, I have done SOMETHING to deserve this much aggravation.  

They say God never gives you more than you can handle.  And the joke is that God must think I'm a badass.  Am I mean, I AM.  But for reallies God, can you let someone else be a badass for awhile because like, I'm really, really tired and my face is sore from fake smiling for people.

But until then, I will drink and be merry.  And I will keep looking for that fucking silver lining everyone talks about.  And if anyone wants to go digging up my ass for those unicorns and rainbows I was talking about, go right ahead, but be warned, my sarcasm may or may not smell alot like refried beans today so Happy Hunting!

Friday, September 12, 2014

If you only knew...

They say you have to crawl before you walk.  Four years ago when I made the decision to change my life, I had to learn to do everything.  I had to learn to sit up, roll over, crawl, stand, take my first steps…well, you get it.  But after some time, I was in a full on sprint all the time.  Nothing could stop me.  I had the world in the palm of my tightly clenched fist and nothing was going to unravel it from my fingers.  Or so I thought.

My once brightly lit star is slowly dimming against the night sky that is currently my everyday life.  The days pass by so fast that I seldom notice the rays of the sun on my face, because I’m always wishing for the darkness to come so I can close my eyes and shut out the noise of the world around me.  The rumbling is like thunder in my ears all the time.  The tears like a never ending rain shower all around me.  The things that once made me so happy are now the things I avoid.  My daily runs replaced by evenings in front of the TV mindlessly ignoring the glare of the TV in front of me.  My once loved yoga practice now a distant memory as I stretch and yawn myself into my yoga pants, only to count down the hours until I can crawl under my blankets and rest my aching head on my pillow.  My once able body is now on fire, screaming in agony, fighting my every movement, forcing me through every second of every day.  A moment of reprieve doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight. 

The people I love – they’re supportive.  But, I can almost hear the sighs and eyerolling as each new doctor’s appointment reveals some new annoyance, yet they remain supportive nonetheless.  I wake up every day hopeful that it might be better than the last, but the moments of joy come few and far between.  I avoid social situations, anything that requires me to force a smile, anything that requires me to answer the everyday question “How are you doing?”  I would rather engulf myself in some TV reality series so I can invest myself in someone else’s life and ignore my own, even if only for a little while.

I’m not sure what I spend more time doing these days – reflecting on what my life has become or deflecting from the reality I’m too afraid to face.  I want to feel normal again.  I want to be happy again.  I want to remember why I lost all this weight and got “healthy”.  I want to be a good wife, and mother and friend and daughter and sister.  I want to be ME again.  But I am lost behind this porcelain mask with a painted smile that is quickly fading against the sunlight.  I’m becoming almost non-existent.

If my life were the directions on a shampoo bottle it would read:
Wake up.  Shower.  Remember to nod and pretend to pay attention.  Smile.  Go to sleep.  Rinse and repeat.

Some days I can barely walk.  Some days my eye balls hurt to even be in my skull.  Some days I want to rip my head off my neck and throw it in the garbage disposal because it hurts so badly.  And no one seems to be able to fix me.  No one seems to LISTEN to me.  And every time they fix one thing, something else is fucked.  It makes it hard to find the light at the end of this very long tunnel.  I’m driving on a thruway in a broken down jalopy of a vehicle, running out of gas and there are no rest stops or exits in sight. 

This pity party is lonely.  Depression is the devils mistress.  She is a wretched bitch who only takes and never gives anything in return, aside from more pain and depression.  Fibromyalgia is like a jackhammer that never stops vibrating against your body.   And aside from the physical, the emotional aspect is what cripples you the most.  In the words of Ron Burgundy: Anchorman, “I’m stuck in a glass cage of emotion!!”.

It’s time to break the glass.