Adventures in the ER


Got to love trips to the ER right? Three hours to get a bed. And I have duck dynasty for roommates where one of them injured their dick and is letting their IV beep uncontrollably. I wish I could make that up. He seriously walked into the ER waiting room, holding his junk, blood running down his leg with his wife and friend and was all “ya’ll need to be fixin’ this up!” When they put me in the bed next to him 3 hours later Ken and I had to try to hold back our laughter at the absurdity of it all, because the guy kept making dick jokes from behind the curtain that divided us.

BUT, the reason I was there. I have had this pain in my left flank for 3 days that was growing. Hoping it was just muscular, I was just trying to ride it out. When I couldn’t roll over in the bed without wanting to scream though, that’s when I decided I needed at the very least, drug intervention. I was worried it was my kidneys again and I didn’t want to take chances with that. I hadn’t slept much in days over this. So off to St. Mary’s we went, where we waited 3 ridiculous hours in wretched pain in the ER while totally ambulatory got beds before I did, even after I checked in. I understand the concept of triage ALL too well. I’m no stranger to hospitals or even working in healthcare where you make those types of decisions, but from what I observed, this was bullshit. Nothing I could do to change that though, you’re at their mercy while you are there.

Turns out, after one UA, a CT, and a ton of blood work (which i have yet to see the actual results of, but never fear, crazy healthcare lady WILL get that) It was all muscular and there was a lot of inflammation in the muscle tissue surrounding… kidney area. So i wasn’t far off identifying WHERE the pain was at least. Big sigh of relief that it wasn’t my kidney at all though. Muscular inflammation I can wait out and work with. So with a nice dose of torodol and dilaudid to get me started, I was sent home with some pain killers and anti inflammatories to get that process started. I’m trying to lightly stretch it out at home, and do all the usual muscle pull types of things and following up with my doc because I was supposed to see her two months ago anyway. I’ve just been too fatigued to do so.

I hope that guy gets home with his dick intact. That catheter bag is going to go down awesome at the hunting club I bet.


There’s No Place Like Home.

Going home is always so cathartic for me. Traffic sucks but I just love being back in DC even for just a few days. I’m excited to hop on the metro today for old times sake, a little of the traffic nonsense on the Beltway was even comfortingly familiar. Today I woke up to DC news. I learned that a taxi accidentally followed the Obama motorcade through the security gates and is in hot water, and another guy tossed a back pack of nothing in particular over the White House fence. Just another day in the district. But still its news that I miss hearing because I don’t get to hear about all the hotspots and suburbs I’m familiar with anymore. Funny, sad, bad, memories flood back and I enjoy it all as I watch TV, drive the streets, shop in stores or eat out and meet up with local friends and family. I do not hate this place, not at all. Its my heart. It’s just the traffic of having to plan my day around 6 hours of whats considered “rush hour” that I hate.

Today we are taking my grandmother refrigerator shopping. On the metro. As city people do. I’m expecting her to act lost just as usual, towering over the crowds, even though it’s at a stop we are both crazy familiar with. What would really funny is if we had to actually take a fridge home on the metro, but alas, they deliver for free. I’m pumped about the metro anyway because I spent half my life as a subway rat and it brings back all sorts of crazy, creepy, hilarious and even annoying memories for me. I might take my camera and pretend to be one of those tourists I hate so much.


Letters From Quarantine

It’s been 5 days since the quarantine at House Woodland began. We arrived home on Sunday with Ken feeling pretty bad, sore throat and congestion. After a terrible sleepless night, for me, due to his snoring and angry retorts when I tried to move him he was full on sick the next day. We managed to attend a doctor’s appointment and head to the grocery store for what would be the last time in the near future.

Day 2, Ken had moved to the couch so I could get some rest, but it didn’t matter. Whatever this was, I succumbed to it anyway. Sore throat, nose at a full stop, and chest congestion out of nowhere. Migraine city had come for a visit too. I am glad now I withheld my Enbrel this week because that would have only suppressed my immune system more and this hell would have gone on a lot longer.

There was soup to be slurped and Netflix to be watched, and dual moaning was heard across the Woodland abode.

However in an effort to brighten our spirits we did make one kick ass french cut crusted rack of lamb for New Years dinner, that was hands down the best thing I have eaten all year. Being sick wasn’t going to suck ALL the joy out of New Years even if we did pass out by 10 and there was no toasting or kissing.

Stir crazy began to set in the next day and between coffee, naps and TV we proceeded to make one hell of a dent at purging the junk on our downstairs floor for our upcoming move. I’m more than proud of us, and doing it while sick? We are beasts. We are now slowly working on aspects of the second floor believe it or not.

Like previously stated, it’s now day 5. Symptoms have improved on both of us, but we are not ready to be released back into the world just yet. We gaze out the window longingly but the harsh freezing temperatures of the outside air would harm us should we venture out I’m sure. I hope we survive this. I’m writing to document our last days should we turn on each other and fail to successfully co inhabit this domicile any longer.

Peace out.

Driving Ms Eileen. Crazy.

I had the greatest snippet with my ultra conservative Fox News loving, Ann Coulter reading, Sarah Palin worshipping Great Aunt the other day. Sometimes I forget what music I have on XM in the car……

Car ( playing ” Back That Ass up” )


Me: (snickering) “Sorry about that, forgot to change the channel.”

Eileen: “WELL. That’s certainly not very CHRISTIAN music now is it.?”

Me: “I never claimed to be a Christian. I’m an Atheist.”

Eileen sucked in her breath SO hard I thought it was going to suck the car and all of us right into a black hole. Meanwhile my grandmother erupted in laughter in the backseat and later told me it was the funniest thing she had heard anyone say to Eileen in a LONG time.

Speaking of my godlessness, my dad specifically wrote in his card to me that he hopes God will step up and show me that “I Am Here” so that I believe once again. Uhhhh. I appreciated the rest of the sentiment, why did he have to go and throw that awkwardness in there? Religious fundamentalists just cannot help themselves can they??

If This Were a CD, My Thoughts Would be Songs

I bought this nifty keyboard case for my iPad so it would help me you know….write easier. Guess what I haven’t been doing? A whole lot of writing, I can tell you that. LLLIIIIIFFFFEEEE. I’m living it, I want to share it but I’m just too damn tired to be bothered sometimes to be honest. SO, here’s a post of non sequitur thoughts that have some to maybe no relevance to my life but are in my head.

My brother turned 20 and that’s neat. He is the youngest and he is getting all “growed up.” I also just had a semi frustrating dream about him last night in which I was SUPER pissed off because he was being a jerk and refusing to do the dishes right.

Ken, the CATS, and myself are all bumming it at grandma’s this week. Yes, the cats too! It was a family road trip to DC this year. “Over the river and through the woods to grandmothers house we go!” The cats were less than pleased with the car ride but they are treating this place like one huge cat resort where love is dispensed at every turn and treats reign down from the sky. I think they are going to be ok.

Every time I merge onto the Beltway this week I end up regretting it. Obscenities are screamed, road rage is had. DC, baby, I’m home for Christmas.

Danica Mckellar, “Winnie” from the Wonder Years, was on TV talking about doing a lesbian make out scene and I felt REALLY old.

I’m going to have all sorts of fun in a few weeks with electrodes and a bed. Nope, its not some sort of 50 Shades of Grey thing, sorry you got excited. It’s a sleep study to be evaluated for sleep apnea and restless leg syndrome, one of which I can pretty much already tell them I have. I mean, out of control twitching? KINDA HARD TO MISS. I did not even bring this up with the sleep doctor, he picked up on it from my intake paperwork which was nice. I did not have to go in there sounding like a hypochondriac, my medication list I gave him was already mind blowing enough.

Speaking of, my SSDI case is moving forward. Ken and I both received extensive quality of life sort of packets to fill out regarding my daily pain and activities, blah blah. We have 20 days to complete it. Fingers crossed.

LARPing for Jesus

The fascinating conversations I have with my childhood BFF. LARPIng remains a subject of great hilarious interest to us, having hung out in the nerdtastic circles throughout our lives. I love my D&D playing husband quite dearly, but I have to draw the line at Live Action Role Playing.


This conversation went on to include how WE would LARP for Jesus, and the equipment we would need. I decided I’d be on the opposition, it felt like it was only right…someone needed to play the Devil’s Advocate here, if we are all practicing for the big one.

Inkblots and Imaginary Friends.

Lately I have hit this level of exhaustion that has rendered me just too exhausted to write. It’s not that things haven’t been going on, because man have they ever, but just living through them have been enough at the moment. Writing about them, that’s just had to wait. Until the Klonopin wore off and I had my mind back that is. Klonopin is one of those great drugs that calms you down but also kind of renders your brain useless to cognitive thought, so writing is damn near impossible.

Did you know that psychologists still use those inkblot tests for things? I had NO IDEA either until confronted with my very own set last week. Now THAT was fun. Apparently I just see the inside of the human anatomy in everything, and I think she was surprised at my graphic detail on that. And I saw the bat signal on one. But really there was a point where I looked at her and exclaimed “COME ON! A two year old just splattered paint on that,” and refused to “see” anything else. Apparently that wasn’t an acceptable answer and finally I told her “fine, it’s a body.” From the best of my Internet research when I got home, while my answers aren’t standard, I got the conceptual idea of the inkblot cards right, and it safe to say I’m not schizophrenic. That was on the table?! Schizophrenia?! (One little breakdown and they think you might be full blown schizophrenic, that I will never understand. I was never climbing the walls, talking to imaginary people, threatening to hurt ANYBODY or the like.) I’m going to be skeptical of the whole inkblot method though anyway, it’s too much guesswork and not enough proven accuracy for me. Luckily the rest of my visit was more in depth and focused on better diagnostic methods concerning my issues.

I’m convinced this one is Optimus Prime.

The summary of our week beyond that consisted of some high stakes finances. It’s like poker, only with our utilities, cable, and rent up as collateral, and we are playing with groceries. Ken’s car unexpectedly died and won a all expenses paid trip courtesy of our checking account to our house from the middle of the road. Now we have one car for the rest of the month. So there’s that to be excited about. Negotiations for obtaining my medication for my Rheumatoid Arthitis are tense and frustrating as its being held hostage somewhere between my doctor’s office and the mail order pharmacy. No one really knows, they both say someone else is fucking up. I’d also like to throw in here, that no one seems to give two flying fucks what i have to say about it because they have pushed this process through every step of the way despite my concerns, and every step of the way it’s ended up a problem for ME. Either way, I’m in terrible pain and no one is sending in back up. Stay tuned. It’s a developing situation.

Bad Cat Friday

He also missed the window this morning and fell straight into the dry food bowl, sending it flying all over the room.

He got caught in the window this morning when I attempted to shut it, because he was crammed between the sill and the screen and refused to move.

Good times for the Kittens Woodland.