IUD drama

May. 29th, 2015 06:29 pm
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Had my old Mirena pulled and a new one installed on Wednesday.

Dear god.

Bless the doctor, because she was persistent as fucking hell.  Bless The Actual Bear for standing there and holding my hand.  Because it should not have been that difficult, and it really, really was.  Took her like five minutes to get the damn thing in because my stupid anatomy would NOT cooperate.  It hurt pretty badly -- like, only a little worse (though less sharp) than my stupid IBS cramps, and not as bad as getting the first one in?  But it went ON and ON when the first one only took about 20 seconds.  I actually felt queasy afterward, which didn't happen before.

I spent the rest of the day achy and sore in the expected places, and yesterday I was actually muscle-sore pretty much all over -- ass, ribs, belly, shoulders, neck -- from tensing up so much.  Today, just my left buttcheek.

It kind of sucked overall, but it got done.  I am super-grateful for that.

naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
I am back from Planned Parenthood. And back from my nap. I posted briefly about it earlier, but it appears not to have propagated to Livejournal.

It appears that there is nothing terribly wrong, and barring unlikely test results, yeah, we don't have to worry about it being something Scary and Bad. They'll be calling me next week to tell me that they found nothing, I'm sure.

For the TMI-averse. )

I took a clonazepam before I went, and it helped a lot. I still got really nauseated and I was scared, but it was much less and not for nearly as long. So, experiment successful.

The woman doctor actually said that she saw I'd had some bad doctor experiences and that she was very, very sorry about that, even if they didn't happen at that clinic, and that they wanted me to feel comfortable. And I did. They were really great about talking to me, checking in with me, and being considerate of my general "I am on druuuuuuuuugs wooooooooo!!!" state. I thanked them all personally, and told the girl at the front that I had felt safe the whole time, which I did, and that I was really grateful for that. So I will probably write them a note or something so that they have some positive reinforcement there.

And they laughed at my bad jokes.

It didn't hurt hardly at all. Just a scratch. (Not that I was worried about the pain, but I am still pleasantly surprised.) I warned them about the swearing, but didn't have to deploy it.

I did use the line a friend threw at me the other day (I was so flattered) about me swearing "like a Baltic bear trainer with prostate swelling." Which prompted laughter and the older doctor guy who was there asking if I had ever met any Baltic bear trainers, which I have not, which in turn led to an "I was in the army" story that involved encountering actual bear trainers, who were apparently very angry people who swore a lot in some scary-sounding language. So that was probably, ironically, the best part of my day (besides the nap I took). Because that was very funny.

So they were good folks. And next time maybe it will not be so scary.

And I am still a little "wooooooo!" so please excuse me if I go and play with my ponies or something.

Y'all are wonderful.

ETA: Oh yeah, the best part! It cost, like, less than a fourth I thought it would! They had misquoted me wrong both times. Only this time, it was in my favor. So I have $300 more in the bank than I thought I would. Which means I can pay for another upcoming appointment without tears and recriminations. So, win.

Quickly

Aug. 10th, 2012 12:25 pm
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
The appointment went swimmingly and it appears that, barring some really freaky lab test results, I am in no danger of dying from anything girlparts-related for at least another year. More details to follow, but this is just to let the TMI-averse people know that I'm okay, and it wasn't bad and everyone was like super nice and totally understanding and gentle. And it cost a fuckton less than I was expecting.

Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to go sleep off the rest of this clonazepam. Yes.
naamah_darling: Intentionally hilarious cutesy illustration of a super-adorable anime girl with blood pouring from her crotch. (Menstrual)
Hey! It's been a while since I got really pissed off, hasn't it? I should probably do some of that soon, shouldn't I? How about now? Is now good for you?

I thought that since we are dirt-scraping poor and totally, totally unemployed, we'd be eligible for Medicaid under our state's much-vaunted "Soonercare" program. Nope. Why? Because I'm not fucking pregnant or trying to get pregnant, I don't have fucking kids, I'm not under 19 or over 65, and I have not been certified as fucking disabled yet.

Fuck everything. Just fucking fuck it.

Fucking fuck.

I've had, like, three people (professionals) ask me why I'm not on Medicaid lately when they knew I didn't fucking have kids. Fuck them for fucking asking. Fuck them, fuck them, fuck them. They deal with poor people every cocksucking day, they should fucking know. Fuck them.

I've spent my life very fucking carefully not having children I can't afford and which would only cost the state money. My reward for this? A fuck you very much and a boot on the ass on the way out. There's my thanks for being smart and careful. Thanks, Oklahoma, for reminding me that I'm not important because I am not reproducing, and that "families" means "babies."

I can get fucking nothing until I am certified as disabled or until I whelp.

I need medical care. Like, right now I kind of urgently need testing to make sure I don't have something bad. I doubt I'm in any trouble here, I do, but I would really like to be sure instead of letting something potentially nasty just slide. I deserve to be safe, to feel safe, and to have basic medical care. And I can't fucking get it.

Fucking lovely.

I am not fucking kidding when I say my pets get shit-tons better health care than I do.

Best line from The Ghost and the Darkness:

"Welcome to Tsavo. My advice to you is don't get sick."

Yeah. Welcome to fucking Oklahoma.

Golly, I think I've ranted this rant before. Six years, and nothing has changed.

If I can get the wherewithal to do it, I'm going to call around and see if the website is maybe wrong, I'm going to make someone say it to me personally, but I really don't think I'm going to get anywhere with that.

I think they'd probably love to be able to help me but can't because rich fucking assholes can't part with a tiny fraction of their millions in order to help out people who are fucking sick. Fucking parasites. Worthless dogfucking shitbags. I hope they choke to death on a camel semen and pig vomit ice dildo in a room wallpapered with child porn, while sodomizing the corpse of a first-degree relative who died of ebola and was then stuffed full of aspic and cheap heroin, and then I hope feral cats eat their faces off and piss all over everything they have ever owned or loved, and crows peck out their eyes, and rats gnaw them hollow starting with their testicles. Televised. Live. To America. Why? Because horse semen is too goddamn good for these walking shit containers.

(Also, if you're inclined to turn the comments into an argument about the recent USA health care act stuff, pro or con, just don't.)

(And if you're offended by my strong language, suck troll shit off Satan's cock in hell, you worthless fuck.)

(Aside from that, I am feeling loads better today.)
naamah_darling: Cartoony picture of a black panther with curved horns and a red ball in his mouth. He wants to play. (Jandar Sad)
Went to the doctor, had a really hard time and a super-quiet meltdown in the waiting area, and am totally fucking annoyed with myself even as I can't really blame myself for it. It's something that I can mostly control, yes. Just because I fail to completely wrestle it to the ground does not mean I have failed to control it, or that I am not trying as hard as I can. It doesn't mean that I didn't do a good job.

Everything went okay, and everyone was super nice. I do have a raft of other appointments to schedule now, though, and records to get hold of, and a bunch of shit to apply for, and I'm stressed out and kinda scared, and that's why I may be hard to get hold of.

Mostly I'm freaking out because I was ALREADY freaking out about shit. I would never have lost it in the office if I hadn't already been so goddamn fucked up with these proto-panic-attacks that slink and circle and nip at my heels, but never actually pounce -- though one did today, a small one. The skag whelp of panic attacks. I must point out in all fairness that this shit? This shit is bad, but it is not so bad compared to the playthrough 2 Asskicking Skag panic attacks I used to have to deal with. I've dealt with worse, this isn't that bad, and it probably won't get that bad again. I'm . . . off-balance, but I'm okay. I'll be okay. Tomorrow. I think.

If I need anything I will say, and it's too soon to start worrying about money for tests, so I'm just throwing that out the window until at least the beginning of next week. Knowing y'all have my back is hugely helpful.

If y'all want to help, link me to amusing Tumblrs or other interesting stuff to keep me distracted. Ask me random questions. Tell me stories about your pets, or show me pictures of pretty cats or pretty horses or something. Just don't ask me questions about what's going on.

I'm pretty swamped with sucky feelings and worry. And I hurt where she was poking at me. :(

Sad kitty is sad. Tired kitty is tired. Worried kitty is worried.

Do not want.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Sigh.

Etrigan has pneumonia. Either that or heart disease, but he seems better after a day on the antibiotics, so I'm choosing to believe it's pneumonia. We expect him to make a full recovery, but this is likely to be a pattern with him. Asthmatic cats are prone to lung infections, especially given that prednisolone lowers his immune system. I'm worried about the little asshole. He's so sweet and so . . . well, I won't say he's good, but I will say that he doesn't mean to be bad, and that counts for something. He certainly doesn't deserve this, the poor little guy.

We didn't know he had an incurable, permanent medical condition when we adopted him, and while I am not at all wanting to give him back or anything asinine like that, I just wish I had known. They say that if you can't afford the vet you can't afford the pet, and I see the wisdom in that to an extent, but if everyone assumed that their pet was going to be sick half the time there would be a lot fewer pets getting rescued and adopted and cared for. I don't think anyone wants more shelter deaths. And a lot of folks couldn't afford pets at all, which sucks, since they make our lives better in so many ways.

There just isn't an answer, and the money isn't there, especially since I need to see my doctor, and we can't afford that either. I'm having persistent, niggling health issues that are really cranking up my anxiety because I don't know what's causing them, and I can't afford to even go in to talk to people, let alone get my regular bloodwork done.

Sigh again. I hate complaining about money, but . . . well, it takes up a lot of my processing space and is making me fairly miserable.

The new psych meds seem to be helping, at least. Although I want to stress that doesn't mean that everything is fine and I'm totally recovered or any of that.

Thank you for the birthday wishes, everyone who wished me a happy birthday (it was on the second, and no, I didn't make a big deal out of it because frankly, I don't care much this year). I got a few nice things and had a quiet day and there were cookies last Monday and everything was pretty much awesome. And [personal profile] bat_cheva got me these ceramic skull beads with a crackle glaze that are just too awesome and too cute for words. I have plans for them already.

I have finished [personal profile] bat_cheva's Christmas present -- you see why I'm like "Nooo, I'm not taking commissions! -- and it is awesome and adorable and I am looking forward to posting pics today or tomorrow.

I'm also working on several other ponies, and I'm in a quandary. One of them is experimental. I used the new Liquitex acrylic spray paint as a black base coat, and I don't know how well it will adhere long-term or how it will age. I'm assuming just fine, since I've never had a problem with Liquitex products aging poorly, but I don't know. I might want to sell this one, and if I do, I will make sure to note that I've tried a new paint in my description. My quandary is how long after you try a new technique do you wait for something to go wrong before you change how you do things permanently?

I do want to sing the praises of Testors Dullcote as a topcoat. Brush-on acrylic sealers are almost always a little grabby no matter how long you let them sit, and as a result they collect dust like nobody's business. Other spray lacquers tend to get glossy when they build up over multiple coats, and it's hard to get the spray up around the belly and legs of the pony without overspraying, which leaves them really wet and, even when they dry, shiny-looking. Also, I've yet to find one that was truly flat, not just satiny or matte, that did not have a kind of rough texture. The Testors goes on smooth, dries insanely fast, and doesn't get over-shiny. The finish is like silk, very much like the original vinyl, so the pony "feels" right.

The one drawback is that it's expensive as hell. Well, that and it smells awful, though not lingeringly since it dries so fast.

Still, I don't think I will be using anything else, ever. It's that good. I knew people in the customs community swore by it, but I hadn't believed the hype. No wonder it's always sold out.

I've never wanted an airbrush -- too much trouble, too noisy, too expensive, takes up too much room -- but the pony thing is making me seriously reconsider that, because topcoats and graded base coats are so difficult with brushes. Water everything down and do it three times, is what I've learned. That is working really well so far.
naamah_darling: Cartoony picture of a black panther with curved horns and a red ball in his mouth. He wants to play. (Jandar Sad)
John Scalzi is pretty awesome. A bit of hetero privilege aside, he understands. Can't say the same of all the commenters, some of whom exhibit drain-clog levels of intelligence, but reading comments is an optional thing.

I am with Jeana when she says:

So, while I’m glad about all the news coverage and backlash, I’m too upset about being dehumanized to take part in this fight. It’s hitting me on a really visceral level. I need to step away from the news to recharge for a bit, so I’ll pass on information when I can, but I doubt I can do much more than that. Yet another reminder of how the personal is political.


And that is why I have not been talking about it more.

In other simply fascinating news:

Finally getting the last topcoat on the Assassin's Creed Box of TAKING GODDAMN FOREVER. What a smelly mess. I really don't like working with oil-based paints and varnishes. "Crack a window!" "Work outdoors!" "Work in your garage!" Yeah, no. I live in Oklahoma.

The box is beautiful, though, and it should be done soon. Ish.

The whole hideous rosacea problem is improving! Slowly. Just fast enough that I think seeing a doctor about it may be unwarranted. It's aggravating, yes, but I'm glad it's getting better. It's not nearly as painful as it was. And maybe I won't have to ask my dad for $100+ just to walk in the dermatologist's door. Christ.

My mental state is overall much better, but still problematic, and worse, in a way, in that I now feel good enough to be bored most of the time, yet still unable to do anything.

I am subject to occasional fits of frustration/anxiety/rage, and these are typically brief but incredibly intense. I have no idea what is causing this, but it's really uncomfortable and occasionally -- like today -- it is scary.

I really do want to see a psychiatrist at some point, because it's becoming apparent to me that I'm not getting what I need. I used to be able to write regularly, make challenging art regularly. Now, not so much. There has got to be a way to change this, and I've been trying for years to figure it out on my own, for as little money as I can get away with. I'm afraid I've been wrong. I've been shortchanging myself all this time, trying to outlast something that cannot be outlasted, change something that cannot be changed, trying to conquer something that cannot be conquered, when what I should be trying to do is get help . . . not alone.

And all the resources I can find for mental health stuff in my area are caught up in a loop of non-informative websites or blind alleys that dead end at phone numbers and addresses with no information attached. No central "call this number and we will help you." No "here is what you need to qualify." Which means my least favorite thing: phone calls. And then, very likely, dealing with people who are not actually qualified to give me the level of care I need.

I don't mean I expect they will be ignorant, bigoted assholes -- although that is a risk when dealing with any low-cost/free mental health care here, when so much of it is run out of fucking churches -- I just mean that, like, volunteer therapists aren't going to be a whole lot of good when what I need is a formal evaluation, diagnosis, and someone to advise me on meds. Someone to talk to I can get for the asking. I need the letters after the name.

Sigh.

Because I do not want to close on a negative note, here, have something adorable:

naamah_darling: Cartoony picture of a black panther with curved horns and a red ball in his mouth. He wants to play. (Jandar Sad)
The going off the Seroquel is going well, by which I mean it's fine at the reduced dosage so long as I don't forget a pill.

If I do, it's a lot like the benzodiazepine withdrawal effects I went through when I tapered off the regular clonazepam/temazepam, which I suppose isn't that surprising considering that quetiapine -- Seroquel -- is related to the benzos, and while most folks supposedly don't have withdrawal symptoms from Seroquel, the ones who do may feel it in much the same way. It's less severe by far, and totally tolerable, but it's intermittently unpleasant, and it sometimes makes doing things not very enjoyable. And my mental energy has been quick to exhaust itself.

Other than that, I've been more alert and animated and able to think much more clearly. I've just been getting to sleep very late, and it's been harder, which is what the Seroquel helped me with.

And this week was the one-year anniversary of Tazendra's stroke. I've tried to not remember it, because it's easier, healthier, for me to weather grief that way, to just lose track of time and let days be days and not reminders of anything. It usually works well for me, but I can't forget the Ides of March, you know? So I'm trying to ignore the hurt as best I can and contemplating posting the silly song parody I started writing for her before she died. I spend every day mourning her loss, and it's still too near for me to spend a day celebrating her life. It's a nice sentiment, but that's for another time.

I really just . . . I just want to look in her cockeyed little goblin face and say "I missed you."

On the bright side, I wrote about 2,000 new words last night on Vengeance and Valor, and got some plotting done tonight, which is more than I've been able to do in the past year altogether, I think. It's a looong way from being done, still, but I'm hoping that being off the Seroquel will help, will be enough to get me writing regularly again. I really love this story, and don't want it to die just because I'm bipolar and the meds I need to take sometimes keep me from getting my shit together.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Thane)
For the record: one clonazepam (1mg) on the Tuesday before last, so that I could calm down enough to sleep. I've been managing okay since then.

This is -- will be -- my sixth or seventh night on a 1/4 dose of Seroquel; 25 mg, down from 100. This is good! I would like to go off it completely, and save it for mixed states and other unpleasant stuff like that.

I am not sure, but I think that on the lower dose I have been better able to think, better able to function. I think. I hope that's the case. It's too soon to know for sure, though, and the adjusting to the new dose is coming with its own set of minor issues. I've had more energy, but tend to get ragged around the edges faster than usual. I'm getting tired -- prodigiously -- but not sleeping as long or as soundly. I feel hung over from time to time for no real reason that I can determine, which has happened every time I've stepped the dose down, and ought to go away.

I did some bathroom decluttering and I found about a month's worth of Synthroid in one drawer. Nice. Not quite the right dose, which is why it was lying around, but close enough that I can toss it in the emergency go-bag or use it as backup. It's also likely I'll get adjusted back to that level again someday. So, yay for that.

The rosacea from hell is slowly retreating, but it's really starting to get to me. In a fit of pique I called and made an appointment with a dermatologist, but it seems to be maaaybe doing well enough that I can cancel and not have to ask my dad for the money. I don't really know what I'll do, but I don't have to decide today.

That was all terribly boring. I have nothing else to report at this time.

Carry on.

Or post pictures of sexy boots. I am in a sexy boots kind of mood.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
I can tell I'm getting better because I'm actually able to fight my mood. It's a little like finally getting the strength to work your way out of barbed wire. It's not actually any more comfortable than just laying there, it's not any easier, but you do the work all the same, hoping that it will help in the long run. No guarantees, of course. I am not sure it's an improvement at all, actually. At least, it won't be until it results in actual improvement.

For purposes of record-keeping, dinner with the in-laws last Thursday required another clonazepam. It wasn't bad or anything, just the loud restaurant and the stress of being out around other people. I've tried for years to act normal, like doing that stuff, as basic as it is, is not difficult or stressful for me. All that's done is make me feel inferior because, Jesus Christ, practically everyone else can cope with this shit. Why can't I? It really does make me feel like a pathetic person. I'm trying to get over that, but it's not easy to let go of this idea that more capable of socializing = better person.

Also for purposes of record-keeping, my pharmacy fucked my prescription up, giving me a bottle of Synthroid in a dosage far too low than what I should be on, then telling me that "their distributor changed" and that's why it looked different. Yeah, umm, no. Name-brand Synthroid, which is all that I can take, never changes its appearance, and has a different color for each dosage. I got the mistake fixed and didn't take any of the wrong pills, but I'm still annoyed.

My skin is still fucked. The medicine and the nice soap help some, but it's like it gets bad in one spot as fast as it heals in another. It hurts, it's gross, it's not my fucking fault, and I look like a zombie plague victim. Ugh. At least I live with someone who understands completely. It hurts to eat. It hurts to smile. It hurts.

On the bright side, ART! I am working on something really cool that I am looking forward to sharing with you.
naamah_darling: Lucian from Underworld next to a snarling wolf. From the dark into the black, throwbacks always have to go. (Lucian Throwbacks)
Sorry for being incommunicado. I used a lot of spoons on the sale and the resulting mailing and keeping track of everything and so forth, and have been very tired.

I have drawn for the donation prize and notified the winner. Thank you to everyone who donated or bought. I am in a much better place financially to tackle the medical stuff I've been putting off for lack of funds. I did not expect quite the response I got, but I am certainly grateful. Thank you. I wish I knew what more to say.

I think I will just give you good news! Kind of ironic good news. I went to the dentist and he patched one tooth and smoothed the other. When I went to pay – admittedly with a little trepidation . . . it was a minor repair, but right now a hundred bucks is kind of a big deal – the secretary clicked around for a few moments with a perplexed look on her face, then informed me that I didn't owe them a thing. Apparently I had a credit on my account that I didn't know about/had forgotten about and that covered it.

I was dumbfounded and much relieved. Now that I've had a couple days to think about it, I believe it's from last year when I went to have some dental work done, and pre-paid for a good chunk of it. It wound up being less complicated than I had thought, requiring only one session and not two, so we just left the credit on my account.

It turned out that I didn't need to worry about the dentist visit (though the realist in me will point out that after discussing it, we opted to try the least drastic treatment first, and the patch might not actually hold . . . there's an excellent chance it will, but we can't be sure). I feel an awful lot like the boy who cried 'wolf,' which is silly, because I do still need the money. Badly.

I need bloodwork done, and a doctor's appointment to discuss meds and general health stuff, and I will be able to afford that without any worries. The extra, if there is any, will go to buying me stuff I desperately need and haven't been able to get the money together for. Like new shoes. That's not a frivolity; I have only one pair, and they are terribly worn out. I desperately need to get back to walking a little bit every day, and I can't do that with the shoes I have. They hurt my feet.

Sargon and I have both been going through a rough patch, but I am guardedly optimistic that we are, psychologically at least, on the mend, and that we will continue to be prepared to Cope With Shit as it happens. This has not been an easy year. I am, at best, about where I was this time last year . . . I look through private journal entries from this time and they read pretty much exactly like the private ones from quite recently. I am choosing to interpret that as "At least I have not gotten any worse." Some years, that is all you can hope for.

And anyway, any year that brings you a smelly marshmallow yeti can't be all bad.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Well, my doctor is back in practice, temporarily housed in a small clinic but soon to move to his own place. This is fantastic news. This is the doctor who, when I couldn't pay for meds, made sure I had samples to get me through. He's a good guy. Seeing him again was very nice, even though I'd just gotten up and was super-groggy.

For purposes of tracking health crap and changes to same, my TSH is up and my Synthroid dose has been raised to 200mcg. Not enough thyroid meds could easily explain my lethargy, coldness, difficulty concentrating, bad skin, and poor mood. So, we're going to address that and then maybe look at adjusting my brain meds, once I'm metabolizing things properly again. I'm going to push him to medicate the thyroid issues until my TSH is very low, not just "normal," and see if that improves things.

Of slight concern was an elevated result for a liver enzyme, but that might simply be due to the fact that I had taken two different antibiotics and Wellbutrin and Seroquel and Benadryl and(I think) clonazepam within 24 hours of the blood draw. Possibly ibuprofen as well. GAH. Put like that, I sound like a walking pharmacy. Anyway, I hope that it was just caused by the meds. I certainly don't feel unwell in a worrisome way, and have absolutely no symptoms of liver problems otherwise. But that many meds, that's gotta be taxing the system. Thank goodness I'm off the antibiotics and haven't needed the clonazepam. I'll have that retested in a few weeks, if I have the money at that time.

Sold the box I put up on Etsy, so that should help. Actually, I think that may go toward buying me some good walking shoes, 'cause I ought to get back to exercising. Anyway, if it was one of youall, sing out! I will throw a surprise in for you. I need to do some more of those boxes. They sell really well and are a lot of fun. Which reminds me . . . I have some stuff for The Return of Thing I Made Thursday that I need to photograph and try to post tomorrow or next week. Also some random stuff for sale. So maybe I'll go do that now.

I will leave you with a gorgeous Brazilian boy to drool over. I don't know what it is, but man, they make some beautiful people down there. Beautiful, lippy, soft-eyed boys with perfect skin. Yum.
naamah_darling: Lucian from Underworld next to a snarling wolf. From the dark into the black, throwbacks always have to go. (Lucian Throwbacks)
Random things:

Just uploaded the cover and text for my first e-book to Smashwords.com and am waiting for it to finish sorting itself out so that I can test it. I am . . . terrified. Terrified that it won't have worked and I will have to format the whole thing over again, terrified that there are typos in it, terrified that I did the wrong thing when I edited the shit out of it. I am also really excited.

All those hateful body image problems are back in full force. It was nice to have a break from them for a while, but I guess it's too much to ask for all this shit to fuck off altogether. "I wish I could get rid of this fucking thing!" is not a healthy way to feel about your meat. It's pretty fucking miserable in here right about now. Thankfully I have really good company.

Gaming with my new character is working out well. Second session tonight. I think he'll make a superb airship pirate captain. I miss the Baron like needing shoes in snow, but it'll pass. Whiiine. Anyway, this new guy is juuust selfish and impulsive and thoughtless enough to do some really entertaining shit, so we're all just sitting back with boxes of popcorn and waiting for him to fuck up dramatically. He's already done it once, much to everyone's amusement except his. Short list of stupid shit to demand when you are aware there are people who want to get rid of you: "HEY! I want to see my sister! Let me into her locked room that I know there is no way into and, conversely, no way out of but this heavily guarded door! Let me in there RIGHT NOW! Wait . . . something's wrong with this idea. I should probably think about thi--NEVER MIND DOOR IS STILL CLOSED MAYBE SEE TO THAT CHOP CHOP!" He's not stupid, but he doesn't always think things through. This should be interesting.

Put in an order at www.rileystreetartsupplies.com, got the wrong thing in the mail, then discovered I had ordered something else by mistake because the picture on both listings was the same. I'd ordered one of the ingredients in a kit, and I had meant to order the whole kit. Not surprising that I was confused, but embarrassing. I emailed them and they answered me the next day saying that they were sending me the thing I had meant to order for free, sorry about the mistake. So, I am not angry with them at all. Their prices are pretty darn good, and apparently their customer service is OK. They've kept me as a customer. Smart. The downside is that my new project still won't be finished for Thing I Made Thursday, so I'll have to find something else. Still, overall a positive experience.

And, last, and possibly most thrilling, I have some sort of hard mass under my ribcage on the left side. I don't know if it's one of those things that has always been there, and I only just noticed it, or if it's new. I don't go feeling around my ribs, you know? I'm having no symptoms, there's absolutely no pain, it doesn't hurt to press on it, and I don't have fucking insurance or money to pay for tests so I'm just going to ignore it and hope it's either supposed to be there, or is harmless.

Because that's what passes for health care in this cockfuck country. Don't get sick. And if you do, try not to need help.
naamah_darling: Lucian from Underworld next to a snarling wolf. From the dark into the black, throwbacks always have to go. (Lucian Throwbacks)
Random things:

Just uploaded the cover and text for my first e-book to Smashwords.com and am waiting for it to finish sorting itself out so that I can test it. I am . . . terrified. Terrified that it won't have worked and I will have to format the whole thing over again, terrified that there are typos in it, terrified that I did the wrong thing when I edited the shit out of it. I am also really excited.

All those hateful body image problems are back in full force. It was nice to have a break from them for a while, but I guess it's too much to ask for all this shit to fuck off altogether. "I wish I could get rid of this fucking thing!" is not a healthy way to feel about your meat. It's pretty fucking miserable in here right about now. Thankfully I have really good company.

Gaming with my new character is working out well. Second session tonight. I think he'll make a superb airship pirate captain. I miss the Baron like needing shoes in snow, but it'll pass. Whiiine. Anyway, this new guy is juuust selfish and impulsive and thoughtless enough to do some really entertaining shit, so we're all just sitting back with boxes of popcorn and waiting for him to fuck up dramatically. He's already done it once, much to everyone's amusement except his. Short list of stupid shit to demand when you are aware there are people who want to get rid of you: "HEY! I want to see my sister! Let me into her locked room that I know there is no way into and, conversely, no way out of but this heavily guarded door! Let me in there RIGHT NOW! Wait . . . something's wrong with this idea. I should probably think about thi--NEVER MIND DOOR IS STILL CLOSED MAYBE SEE TO THAT CHOP CHOP!" He's not stupid, but he doesn't always think things through. This should be interesting.

Put in an order at www.rileystreetartsupplies.com, got the wrong thing in the mail, then discovered I had ordered something else by mistake because the picture on both listings was the same. I'd ordered one of the ingredients in a kit, and I had meant to order the whole kit. Not surprising that I was confused, but embarrassing. I emailed them and they answered me the next day saying that they were sending me the thing I had meant to order for free, sorry about the mistake. So, I am not angry with them at all. Their prices are pretty darn good, and apparently their customer service is OK. They've kept me as a customer. Smart. The downside is that my new project still won't be finished for Thing I Made Thursday, so I'll have to find something else. Still, overall a positive experience.

And, last, and possibly most thrilling, I have some sort of hard mass under my ribcage on the left side. I don't know if it's one of those things that has always been there, and I only just noticed it, or if it's new. I don't go feeling around my ribs, you know? I'm having no symptoms, there's absolutely no pain, it doesn't hurt to press on it, and I don't have fucking insurance or money to pay for tests so I'm just going to ignore it and hope it's either supposed to be there, or is harmless.

Because that's what passes for health care in this cockfuck country. Don't get sick. And if you do, try not to need help.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Understanding Someone With Chronic Pain.

This is a pretty damn good resource for folks who have chronic pain issues to share with friends, family, etc. It's short, covers a lot of the basics, and isn't written antagonistically.

Thought I would share it here since I know many of you deal with this.

Here's my favorite bit, which ties in with my loathing for unsolicited medical advice.

Be sensitive when suggesting medicines or alternative treaments. Prescription drugs, over-the-counter medicines and alternative therapies can have side effects and unintended consequences. Some may not appreciate suggestions, and it's not because they don't want to get well. They may have heard of it or tried it already or some may not be ready to cope with new treatment that can create an additional burden on their already over-burdened lives. Treatments that haven't worked carry the emotional pain of failure, which in and of itself can make the person feel even lower. Of course, if there were something that cured, or even helped people with a particular form of chronic pain, then they should be made aware of it. There is worldwide networking (both on and off the Internet) between people with chronic pain. Those can be good resources. Be sensitive in how you bring it up.

On the other hand, never be afraid to ask them about how satisfied they are with their treatment. Mark Grant says that it is important to ask helpful questions about whether the chronic sufferer thinks their treatment is satisfactory or if they think their pain is bearable. He suggests that people rarely ask these open-ended "helpful questions" that would help the chronic sufferer to open up and really talk.
It's good stuff overall, and possibly useful as an educational tool.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Understanding Someone With Chronic Pain.

This is a pretty damn good resource for folks who have chronic pain issues to share with friends, family, etc. It's short, covers a lot of the basics, and isn't written antagonistically.

Thought I would share it here since I know many of you deal with this.

Here's my favorite bit, which ties in with my loathing for unsolicited medical advice.

Be sensitive when suggesting medicines or alternative treaments. Prescription drugs, over-the-counter medicines and alternative therapies can have side effects and unintended consequences. Some may not appreciate suggestions, and it's not because they don't want to get well. They may have heard of it or tried it already or some may not be ready to cope with new treatment that can create an additional burden on their already over-burdened lives. Treatments that haven't worked carry the emotional pain of failure, which in and of itself can make the person feel even lower. Of course, if there were something that cured, or even helped people with a particular form of chronic pain, then they should be made aware of it. There is worldwide networking (both on and off the Internet) between people with chronic pain. Those can be good resources. Be sensitive in how you bring it up.

On the other hand, never be afraid to ask them about how satisfied they are with their treatment. Mark Grant says that it is important to ask helpful questions about whether the chronic sufferer thinks their treatment is satisfactory or if they think their pain is bearable. He suggests that people rarely ask these open-ended "helpful questions" that would help the chronic sufferer to open up and really talk.
It's good stuff overall, and possibly useful as an educational tool.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Documenting this for the sake of remembering.

Aaand that's the third night at the lower Seroquel dosage. If this is doable at all, it's going to be by a narrow margin. My sleep has been shorter and more restless. On the one hand, I'm fully alert when I wake up, and I'm not falling asleep in the middle of every day. Getting a little tired, maybe, but not just dropping off. I can also feel some of my mental agility returning. Unfortunately, I've also been cranky. Don't know if that's related.

The hell of it is that I know I'll come back around to a point where I need to raise the dose again, and I'll be right back to zombietown. I really don't like that feeling.

I need to discuss this with a doctor, but . . . Christ. I'm not up to starting over with someone new right now. I'm just not. There are so many conversations I don't want to have.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Documenting this for the sake of remembering.

Aaand that's the third night at the lower Seroquel dosage. If this is doable at all, it's going to be by a narrow margin. My sleep has been shorter and more restless. On the one hand, I'm fully alert when I wake up, and I'm not falling asleep in the middle of every day. Getting a little tired, maybe, but not just dropping off. I can also feel some of my mental agility returning. Unfortunately, I've also been cranky. Don't know if that's related.

The hell of it is that I know I'll come back around to a point where I need to raise the dose again, and I'll be right back to zombietown. I really don't like that feeling.

I need to discuss this with a doctor, but . . . Christ. I'm not up to starting over with someone new right now. I'm just not. There are so many conversations I don't want to have.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Bookish)
Finally saw Inception. Amazing movie. Don't understand why people complained it was hard to follow. Also don't understand the feather-plucking frustration people experienced over the ambiguity of the thing. That was the entire point of the movie. Coming down on one side or the other would have cheapened it.

I say that as someone who is not overly fond of ambiguous endings. Too often, not wanting to state something outright is either hamhanded shorthand for "You are watching GREAT ART" when it is not, in fact, any such thing, or it's a sign that your narrative is not actually very interesting because you've relied on mystery to sustain interest. Neither was the case here.

Had friends over for movie night tonight and chased Inception with The Amazing Screw-On Head (always a hit) and Tremors, which I think says something about our taste, and what we require in our entertainment: only that it entertains. As I said to [livejournal.com profile] bat_cheva when discussing movies that are unpleasant for unpleasantness' sake, "I am not terribly entertained my by my own depression." I don't demand cheerful cheerful alla time, but I really can't abide movies that feel like, if you're having a good time, you obviously aren't paying attention to what's REALLY IMPORTANT.

Uhh. What else?

In the interests of documenting this shit, I lowered my Seroquel dose by 1/3 last night to see if that would reduce the constant tiredness. So far, I'm doing okay. Haven't fallen asleep once today, although I really do want to take a nap right now.

This shit is so frustrating sometimes. You want to find something that works and then keep doing that thing, and when that's just not how it is for you it gets annoying fast.

We're in the process of putting together a splash page for Pride and Prostitutes, like the pretty freaking awesome one I did for Vengeance and Valor. I really kinda wish I had a Western-style saddle and someone who's built like Dolly and Delilah and is willing to have their cleavage photographed in a corset.* Because that would make for some serious AWESOME. Sigh.

And, to wrap up this random post of randomness, I have not made you look at my cats lately, so here is a picture of Sif being adorable and laying in our gaming chair:

Butter Fat, Yellow Cat

Captioned by [livejournal.com profile] akttog: "Iz cumftbl, onest."

Tomorrow: expedition to awesome flea market of awesomeness. Hope it's open. Gotta love Oklahoma and hours like "Wednesday through Friday during the day, open most other days if I feel like it."

* N.B.: No, I can't do it myself. I'm way, way too fat through the arms and shoulders and neck. And everywhere else, frankly. That's not me getting down on myself, that's me admitting I am sooooo not built like Scarlett Johannson, which can hardly be held against me.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Bookish)
Finally saw Inception. Amazing movie. Don't understand why people complained it was hard to follow. Also don't understand the feather-plucking frustration people experienced over the ambiguity of the thing. That was the entire point of the movie. Coming down on one side or the other would have cheapened it.

I say that as someone who is not overly fond of ambiguous endings. Too often, not wanting to state something outright is either hamhanded shorthand for "You are watching GREAT ART" when it is not, in fact, any such thing, or it's a sign that your narrative is not actually very interesting because you've relied on mystery to sustain interest. Neither was the case here.

Had friends over for movie night tonight and chased Inception with The Amazing Screw-On Head (always a hit) and Tremors, which I think says something about our taste, and what we require in our entertainment: only that it entertains. As I said to [livejournal.com profile] bat_cheva when discussing movies that are unpleasant for unpleasantness' sake, "I am not terribly entertained my by my own depression." I don't demand cheerful cheerful alla time, but I really can't abide movies that feel like, if you're having a good time, you obviously aren't paying attention to what's REALLY IMPORTANT.

Uhh. What else?

In the interests of documenting this shit, I lowered my Seroquel dose by 1/3 last night to see if that would reduce the constant tiredness. So far, I'm doing okay. Haven't fallen asleep once today, although I really do want to take a nap right now.

This shit is so frustrating sometimes. You want to find something that works and then keep doing that thing, and when that's just not how it is for you it gets annoying fast.

We're in the process of putting together a splash page for Pride and Prostitutes, like the pretty freaking awesome one I did for Vengeance and Valor. I really kinda wish I had a Western-style saddle and someone who's built like Dolly and Delilah and is willing to have their cleavage photographed in a corset.* Because that would make for some serious AWESOME. Sigh.

And, to wrap up this random post of randomness, I have not made you look at my cats lately, so here is a picture of Sif being adorable and laying in our gaming chair:

Butter Fat, Yellow Cat

Captioned by [livejournal.com profile] akttog: "Iz cumftbl, onest."

Tomorrow: expedition to awesome flea market of awesomeness. Hope it's open. Gotta love Oklahoma and hours like "Wednesday through Friday during the day, open most other days if I feel like it."

* N.B.: No, I can't do it myself. I'm way, way too fat through the arms and shoulders and neck. And everywhere else, frankly. That's not me getting down on myself, that's me admitting I am sooooo not built like Scarlett Johannson, which can hardly be held against me.

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naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
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