Ugh, I'm feeling so nauseous and tired right now. The feeling of powerlessness is enveloping me and I don't have the strength to fight it off.

Pancreatitis

It is pancreatitis. The area of the pseudocyst is slightly inflamed. I don't have to go into the hospital (yet). I can stay home and get rest. I have anti nausea drugs and pain pills to keep me comfy. As long as there is no vomiting I don't go into the hospital. I did volunteer (grit teeth) to be incarcerated if the doctor wanted to be (over) cautious. I held my breath when I made the offer. (-;

Its a 101 degrees. We broke a record heat level today. ....feh....I must go hide in my bedroom with my air conditioner set on the freezing nipple setting.

More info later, I'm too tired right now.

I do want to stress that it might be nothing more than a flu bug. I am nervous, but confident. I am not going to freak out this time. If it is pancreatitis, its a "mild" case. I keep trying to get some sleep but its not workin' out. Between my nervousness and the 75 deg temp at 1:30 AM its an almost impossible task.

SOAP OPERA

Ugh. I was trying to step away from the negative stuff on my blog. My punishment for such a daring maneuver is 2 days of nausea and a doctors appointment to make sure I'm not developing pancreatitis. I have mild pain in all the bad places, hopefully that's just a coincidence. I think its just the heat outside taking its toll on my PacNW body that is still healing from last weeks procedure. The temperature hit 96 degrees today. So I'm crossing my fingers, that heat is the cause...

I am starting to feel like a hypochondriac, even though I know that's not the case. I wish I could see myself more of a victim instead of feeling like a weak whiner. Sometimes I feel like maybe I'm responsible for where I am in my life right now. That has to be an irrational reaction to not having control. Yes?

ODE TO TESSA
I love cats. I always have at least one cat in my life. My latest addition to my family is Tessa. She is now ten months old and becoming her own person. I raised her since she was three weeks old. I taught her how to eat and drink. However, I quickly learned to wear a feeding shirt. I used an eye dropper to feed her water and fed her cat food mush off my finger. She was scared of her litter bowl, I would pet her as she learned to go poop. She stayed on my chest to play, rest and observe the world. I couldnt leave her alone in a room without hearing her desperate squeal for help. I ended upcarrying her around the house whenever I left the room. When I left the house I always wrapped her in a blanket and snuck away. She wouldnt allow anyone to pick her up / away from me without screeching bloody murder. I think Tessa believes I am her mother and acts accordingly. She bathes my chin and my nose as a duty. If I try to move away, she holds my face with both paws "to steady" me. And as disgusting as it sounds she also digs for imaginary fleas on my chin and nose. My bond with her is the 2nd strongest bond I have ever formed with a cat. Her personality is solidifieng into an independant, bossy and expectant little Miss. But I have noticed these last couple weeks that she has been doting on me with her attention. I love her very much and adore her as if she were my own child. She has made things a lot easier to cope with these lately. (-:



Tessa's Description: She looks like a miniature long haired black fox. Favorite Foods: chili, radishes and Doritos.
Unique traits: She cant or doesnt meow, she chitters like a squirrel. Her fox tail is as long as the rest of her body.
Cutest trait: Drive by nose kisses. From out of nowhere she will sneakily run up on me, Eskimo kiss me and run away
before I can grab her. This usually happens 3-4 times a night.

Ok Im done being soft and mushy. (-;

I want to share one of my favorite poems from D.H. Lawrence. The first time I read this I was 14 yrs old and repetition of life dominated my interpretation. At age 36 I now read this and the fragility of life is casting long shadows, hiding much of the beauty. When I'm 75 I want to read this and understand my life in these words.


KISSING AND HORRID STRIFE

I have been defeated and dragged down by pain
and worsted by the evil world-soul of today.

But still I know that life is for delight
and for bliss
as now when the tiny wavelets of the sea
tip the morning light on edge, and spill it with delight
to show how inexhaustible it is:

And life is for delight, and bliss
like now when the white sun kisses the sea
and plays with the wavelets like a panther playing with its cubs
cuffing them with soft paws,
and blows that are caresses,
kisses of the soft-balled paws, where the talons are.

And life is for dread,
for doom that darkens, and the Sunderers
that sunder us from each other,
that strip us and destroy us and break us down
as the tall foxgloves and the mulleins and mallows
torn down by dismembering autumn
till not a vestige is left, and black winter has no trace
of any such flowers;
and yet the roots below the blackness are intact:
the Thunderers and the Sunderers have their term,
their limit, their thus far and no further.

Life is for kissing and for horrid strife.
Life is for the angels and the Sunderers.
Life is for the daimons and the demons,
those that put honey on our lips, and those that put salt.
But life is not
for the dead vanity of knowing better, nor the blank
cold comfort of superiority, nor silly
conceit of being immune,
nor pueriIity of contradictions
like saying snow is black, or desire is evil.

Life is for kissing and for horrid strife,
the angels and the Sunderers.
And perhaps in unknown Death we perhaps shall know
Oneness and poised immunity.
But why then should we die while we can live ?
And while we live
the kissing and communing cannot cease
nor yet the striving and the horrid strife.

D.H. LAWRENCE

Lets talk about fear

If you have been following my site you know about my pancreatitis ad nausea (grin) and the lingering after affects. Aside from the medical information I haven't discussed the emotions involved. In the world of Pancreatitis support groups a common theme is wrung out over and over again, fear of "The Sick". That sounds like a low budget Sci-Fi film but its the best description for the feeling. The Sick is an entity that completely takes over your life. Its an unwelcome companion that questions your every move, thought and action. The sick stayed with me for 6 months total. The last 2 months of The Sick were filled with bad days and not-too bad days. However, for the first 4 months, 24 hours a day I was ill. A satisfactory comparison is drastic air turbulence. Your stomach constantly being pushed in any random direction all the time. The slightest "wrong" smell will trigger an attack of nausea that will last for days. Sitting, laying or even just fidgeting wrong can make the room spin and your stomach float. You learn to breath in tiny breaths that don't make your lungs expand. You find the position that least disturbs your stomach. I found that if I reclined at a 45 deg angle, with my left leg propped up on 3 pillows, right leg extended flat, right arm to my side and left forearm on my head I felt better. So I would freeze in that position for hours. The Sick makes every bite of food an unknown. I tried not to skip meals, but often I had no option. When I was with friends I tried to hide the affect my stomach was having on the rest of me. But I would start getting a greenish-ashen look to my skin and it would send off alarm bells to people around me.

After the first 30 days of this you want to blow your fucking head off.

Flash forward to last Friday

The needle guided drainage of the pseudocyst and its dangers of triggering Pancreatitis. The morning before the procedure I had my first panic attack EVER, in my whole life.
I was being prepped for the procedure when out of my mouth the words "I cant do this" fell out. Suddenly, I couldn't breath and I felt like I was having a heart attack. I couldn't think straight and I wanted to escape to a dark corner! The staff tried to keep me calm, but I couldn't pull myself together. I'm not proud of the fact that I cried, but I just couldn't help it! I was so scared! I said "I want to go home, research and think about this some more." I wanted out of there! Nobody would tell me where my clothes were stashed! I even questioned my surgeons medical credentials! I argued that since the Pancreas is still a mystery to medical science, that they didn't really know what they were doing! I told the surgeon that it was all guess work using information gained from years of working on parts of the body he understands, therefore logically his knowledge and training doesn't apply to the unknown pancreas. So lets just wait till we can find a better solution! I babbled and argued and almost hyperventilated before I was injected with something to calm my tantrum. I cant believe I did that to those people, I am still so embarrassed. *blush*gnash teeth*

In recovery my surgeon joked that I argued my case so well, that he feared having his license removed to practice medicine. He told me he would pay me off not to become a lawyer. Thank goodness he has a sense of humor. I already sent the medical staff a card with an apology.

I'm still frayed at the edges and a little jumpy as I'm healing from the procedure. However, I wonder how long the mental scars will need to fade away.

I will survive

(feel free to have Cake's version of the song reverb in your head)

I'm a survivor of whatever is thrown at me. I rarely land on my feet. Usually I land on my ass. But I always get up and limp away.

I was born 2.5 months premature. In 1966 that was a big deal. The doctors told my mom not to get to attached to "it", since "it" wouldn't make it through the night. After 4 weeks in an incubator I' was freed!

At age 1 I almost died from a severe allergic reaction to pineapple. sheesh..pineapple?

At age 2 our house burned down and I was saved by our family dog. I know that sounds like a hoary cliche, but wait, it gets worse. The dog was a "Lassie" type of collie too.

Age 3 my father almost killed me in a drunken rage, I have the scar tissue on my head to prove it too. Back handed me into a China Cabinet. Didn't see him again until I was 27.

Age 4 A freak tornado hit our school and I was in kindergarten class at the time. Killed a bunch of kids and teachers. The only tornado our town ever had.

Age 5 The neighbors house exploded from a gas leak. The explosion took out part of my bedroom. We weren't home at the time. It was suspected arson but never proven.

Age 6 A busy year. Car door not shut all the way and no seatbelt. I fell out while going around a curve but the tongue of my shoe snagged on the unused seatbelt. I spent an eternity staring at a fast moving tire. Step father tried to drown me made the scenario look like I fell out of our boat fishing. Didn't figure that bizarre memory out until I was an adult.

Age 7 Winged by a car. A friend and I were riding bikes in the woods, through the trails, and shot out on to the road blindly. He ended up on the hood of a moving station wagon with a broken nose and a broken arm and collar bone. I caught the side view mirror and the passenger window with my face. concussion, split lip and 2 teeth gone. Ow. Bike was run over and destroyed

Age 8 climbed to the top of a 60 foot tree. I slipped and fell 16 feet. I eventually landed on a thick branch and almost passed out looking down 44 feet. I cracked two ribs and fractured my wrist.

Age 9 At the grocery store a mountainous 10 ft high stack of dog food (50lbs each) fell over on me and my brother. We were buried but somehow ended up in a hollow spot of the collapse. My Brother's right collarbone snapped like a twig. I heard the snap, sounded like a tree branch breaking.

Age 10 My brother (younger) and I would tease the neighbors bull. *sigh* /-: We would wait for him to get far away and the run across his field. He would of course charge after us. One day he tricked us and ended up close to us and chased us into the bullpen. we were stuck in the rafters of the bullpen for 5 hours until our family finally found us. The bull stayed in the bullpen hoping to gore at least one of us.

Age 11 Our family was almost wiped out by a reckless driver on a country road with a blind curve. He came up behind us at 90mph on a 50mph road ,swerved away at the last second and into oncoming traffic. Hit a car head on killing 2 people. My brother and I were in the back of our truck and saw everything.

Age 12 Managed to slice myself open from my elbow to my wrist while playing. A sharp piece of metal under our "slip and slide". I lost so much blood it was almost too late to save me. 32 stitches.

Age 13 Mt St Helens erupts. If it would have blown out the other side we would have been vaporized and killed.

Age 14 My Stepfather in a drunken Vietnam vet PTSD rage almost killed me. He grabbed me by the throat and slammed me into the wall. and choked me until I passed out. He thought I was dead and fled the scene.

Age 15 I came within seconds of killing myself. Life sucked and it wasn't getting any better. I don't remember what stopped me.

Age 16 Again, My Stepfather in a drunken Vietnam vet PTSD rage almost killed me. He grabbed me by the throat and slammed me into the refrigerator and choked me until I passed out. Later that evening (when I regained consciousness) he was sleeping, I put a (his) gun to his temple, woke him up and told him if he ever touched me again he was dead.

Age 17 I got in a fight with a bully and put him in the hospital. My rage was out of control. I was arrested and held for 3 days. After I was released I left home, quit school and got a job. I didn't want to be that person I was becoming.

Age 18 At work, while unloading freight a forklift somebody else was driving tipped over on me. I ended up in the driver compartment safe. I was 5'6", if I were any taller my head would have been crushed.

Age 19 A drunk driver passes a slow moving tractor on a two lane road into my path. He is driving a 4X4 (little dick) big truck and we lock eyes as he barely misses killing me head on. He scraped the whole right side of my Toyota car with his huge tires. He ends up in the ditch. The farmer from the tractor pulls him out of the truck and gives him a beating. Later on when the sheriff's deputy arrives he kicks the crap out of the guy too.

From the age of 20-24 nothing life threatening happened. Ahhh the good old days. but then I turned 25....

Age 25 I acquire ocular cellulitis, a flesh eating bacteria. In a matter of 10 hours, in the hospital almost dead.

Age 26 A cat bite becomes infected and even after receiving a tetanus shot I still get blood poisoning. Back in the hospital again, touch and go for a couple of days.

Age 27 I acquire ocular cellulitis again. same place, same scenario.

Age 28 My allergy to pineapple rears its ugly head. Me and a friend get pizza. Canadian bacon and pepperoni. 10 minutes into the meal I became seriously ill. I asked the pizza guy about the pineapple, sure enough, At first they accidentally put pineapple on it and then took it off. A trip to the hospital, and a night stay later, I survived but felt like hell for a week.

Age 29- 33 good times...no injuries or diseases.

Age 34 I acquired ocular cellulitis again. other side of face and eye, same scenario for recovery. The doctors have a theory that my immune system doesn't fight off internal bacterial infection like most other people. duh...

Age 35 Gallstones, Gallbladder, Liver infection, worn esophagus, worn stomach lining, pancreatitis, heart failure, lung infection, blood poisoning and finally....Death.

Age 36 Pancreatic infection and dangerous life threatening medical procedure. But I'm alive and a survivor.

Years ago there was a stupid study that said Left Handers die 7 years sooner than Right Handers. I call Bullshit! But I don't think my death will be a convincing disclaimer of the study.

Oh yeah and I'm a Tranny, so what does that say about my chances...