railenthe: (Default)
I wouldn't turn down money though lol.

It's  been hectic. Got rid of the bugs. My Outlook account is buggin'.

My doctor discontinued my gut medicine and it's like $70/month for a month's supply if he doesn't fix it.

There is still a gaping gouge in my ceiling.

I dislocated my knee seven times last month. The good knee.

But I'm going to try to write again. I fell into this...hole, and I wasn't writing. I haven't been able to get it going. But I'm going to do it. I'm going to push forward and write again. Cooking, photography, and writing are the things that make me happy, and I haven't been doing any of them. But I'm going to change that starting now.
It's time to get moving.

...ps, if you want to feed the starving artist, feel free to toss a few at. $20 feeds me for a week with this injured esophagus.
railenthe: (Default)
I have chills from my pain, and the herb that I use in my personal medicine has been scheduled, and is now illegal to own, obtain, or use in its place when my physician is being an assistant and dragging his feet on a renewal of my refill.

The Pain is like a crosscut saw, below a rib as if looking for something to remove, then realizing that it's made a wrong turn and curving down and sawing on the dotted line that is my hernia scar.

I can't focus. I can barely function.

There are things I wanted to do today. I did none of them.

All because I have not been able to get my side fixed.
railenthe: (Default)

Pestilence Day… I don't know. Too long.

My “WTF is this Weather I'm stuck in” (for three hours in a laundromat) vine got 2.5k views. Six of us were in there, rocks and branches were flying, and a door kept banging open despite our efforts.

Still the safest place to be.

The power went out four times. I had to restart my dryer twice. I went out from exhaustion… It might have been three times. I distinctly remember being out when the power was, and back when it was once. Pills were missed. Meals were missed. Returning to the apartment—I'll advised, but the only physically possible route—resulted in a SPECTACULAR splat onto the floor, with only the package of sheets I'd bought to cushion my head. I managed to get my sleep pouch out long enough to splat into it.

Two hours into splat, I realize I am so dizzy that I can't move. Getting out is not possible. Dinner is a vending machine cupcake. And I'm in enough pain that this is enough.

I'm heavily medicated right now. Sleep is soon.

railenthe: (Default)
 On Tuesday, I had to wake up at what a relative calls “ass o'clock in the AM” to go to an appointment. It was an EEG, to get to the bottom of my migraines. So I started the day getting little electrodes taped to my scalp and forehead—about 22 of them total—and then two clamp style on my wrists—and then plopped into this chair into a dark room. They were going to do a bunch of tests to measure what was going on in


Oh it gets better. That got followed by this...this thing.


“Um, what is that?” I asked, pointing at the thing that looked like it was part of GlaDOS.


“It's a light. I need you to close your eyes, and it's gonna blink a lot.”


There may or may not have been a long “nooooooooo” from me. Blinky bright flashy lights close to my eyes make a weird noise and make me twitchy.


And this went on for...I don't know how long. All I know is my face, shoulder, and part of my leg went completely twitchy and I was told to unclench my jaw once or twice. (Couldn't do anything about it. Reflex. Twitchy means clampy.) By the time the blinky-horrible-light was gone, I was dizzy and headachey and sick. And still twitchy.


Fun fact: apparently migraines aren't supposed to do that.

The next place I had to go was beyond awkward. It STARTED awkward when security had to be called on a very public fight in a bus stop. And the bus was speeding. By the tine I got to the place I had to get directions, but apparently I wasn't ready for the exam.


Let's just say there was enforced drinking of water and the awkward discovery that, despite an intake of over a gallon of water a day, I am severely dehydrated. We skip that part of the test after three attempts and 45 minutes of waiting we get to the second part of the ultrasound.


There's this...thing that gets SHOVED and PRODDED. And a lot of asking about where the pain is and where it has been and where it's been moving if it's been moving. We're looking for two things here: the cause of strange inflammation and this obstruction we can't explain.


By the time that one is over I've been moving since six in the morning and haven't eaten since...a quarter to seven in the morning. It's a trip to fast food place before home.

Next week it gets interesting again. We got the followup from the ultrasound, and a nerve conduction test. The neurologist who thinks that the migraines might actually be seizures also thinks that the neuropathy that I've been having could be something else—like lupus or MS—and he needs to test the functionality of my nerves to be sure. In fact, he thinks that my GP has been irresponsible with his throwing around of the shingles pill and the nerve drugs without sending me to him at some point or another.


A week after that, I got an ultrasound of MY LIVER.


Then I get to enjoy something that I'm apparently a few years overdue for thank to family history: a mammogram. I'm losing a lot of work to scan days and recuperating from scan days.


It's beginning to look a lot like fuck this.

railenthe: (Default)

Sitting at an improvised chair revising a chapter. It was 1:30 in the morning, prefaced with a text message of simplest nature: "Are you up?"

Nothing remains
We could run
when the rain slows
(--from Sunday)

On his birthday, David Bowie put out an absoultely smashingly excellent album, titled unpronounceably with a graphic but translateable as Blackstar. He celebrated his sixty-ninth birthday in festive fashion, we heard. I excitedly planned on getting that album in hard copy—struggle season be damned.

That was on Friday.
in which I am not particularly put together, fair warning )

railenthe: (Default)
I had two things: the fortune for my old man to be understanding, and the misfortune to come down with a stomach bug.

As we all know by now that is the worst thing for ME to be coming down with, with my history.

It's madness.

It's about a week before my neurologist's appointment. My paperwork is missing. It's been missing or a month. I have no fucking clue what I did with it. I've looked for about three hours every day, giving myself a pounding headache each time. About the only productive thing that I've done is I've cleaned underneath the stove.

Btw, moving a stove when you're ill? I don't recommend it.

They may be increasing my rent. I haven't heard a damn thing since the interview earlier this month. I had 15 hours on my last paycheck. (Does not compute.) But my food stamps got turned back on!

At some point, I'm going to break down the shiny things that have happened over the course of the year. For all the awful, there has been some nice.

But right now...I need to attempt another food and electrolytes.
railenthe: (Default)
 I am having some horrible symptoms. Symptoms that I recognize.

These are not bugs.

These lights are not there.

That noise came from inside my head.

These muscle spasms will not stop.

It’s that thing. That thing where the thing starts off with a high-level aura that makes me think it’s going to be a migraine, but then, without warning, turns into this thing that makes me feel like my bones are breaking and that maaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe I’m going to die from it.

It hit last night and knocked me out for about an hour. I was up again only long enough to take my medicine and go to bed. I was too sick to eat.

It’s kicking in again today. I got muscle spasms in muscle groups I didn’t know were there. And I know it’s because I’m on the heavy shift at work. We got slammed with a church con of some sort that didn’t want to pay two arms and their neighbor’s leg for everyone else’s rates, we’re down a housekeeper, my vacation (paid) is shifted off two days and I’m working those two days (paid vacation days on top of the regular pay).

I’m in excruciating pain, but, uh…I think that manekineko worked.

In all my time at that place we have never been busy this time of year.

…but I’m in too much pain to do much of anything today as far as interaction.

I’m going to work on Nano while my body lets me function.

railenthe: (Default)

The thing about being really poor is that when you don't make enough money to get yourself something nice for your birthday, it's a mild disappointment. There is another thing about that fact: when you manage to make just enough to pay off all of the bills that you have that month, you still manage to feel accomplished.

This month is one of those.

I looked at this week's paycheck and for a moment felt accomplished. I made an amount of money that had a two in the leading number slot instead of a one. I felt like I was getting somewhere. Then I sat down and did the math, and realized that I hadn't had as much money as I thought.

You know, I actually don't make enough money to save money for a rainy day—or, really, even a sunny day, most of the time. There just isn't that much cushion. Especially when you live in such a situation when your rent isn't even static. Mine's about to go up for no other reason than it does: it goes up when the season gets better, so that it stays at a rate of 30% of my adjusted income. The little box that I had for my savings is going to be the thing that helps me pay the bills this month.

I'd meant it to be for something else, but that can wait for another day.

…I'd like to do something nice for my birthday, but I just don't have the money to do so.

And frankly, just getting there and wanting to still be around at that point will be enough for me at this point.

Nine days.

railenthe: (Default)
Nothing happened. Nothing bad happened. I'm still not sure how to feel. I mean I'm relieved as fuck but I just have this feeling that the other shoe is about to drop. Maybe I should take a dose of the thing, or break out the dry herb vape for the emergency stuff.

[cut here]

I spent the entire day leading up to about three in the afternoon twisting myself into an interestingly shaped knot wondering what was going to happen when I finally did what I had planned: actually coming out to family.

An unplanned, aggressive outing at work has already happened—survival was on the table at that point and I had to get out of there before something permanent happened to my head—and I took a crapton of vacation days all at once to sort things out. Part of that sorting out, I'll admit, was a "get affairs in order" sort of plan. I was honestly done.

But that was negotiated out of me. And everyone who dragged me off of that ledge (AGAIN), thank you.

But that still left one big thing.

My folks. Pops and my stepmom.

They've always been a little dismissive of things that they can't grab as proof or science up or things, and the last time I came to them with any of my problems I got a dismissive "UGH" and a "Yeah well what about JESUS" speech. I'd already decided today that if I got one of those I'd walk out of there. I was going to pack light: nothing for distraction other than what could fit in a coat pocket or seven.

The plan took a different turn han I had anticipated right off of the bat when they decided to pick me up. After spending a considerable amount of time panicking and seriously considering finishing the unholy terror of a taste that is the remainder of the whiskey I decided to just deal and go. Opportunity came about fifteen minutes into me being there: they were out of cold medicine and my nerves were wired enough to need a Bob Marley soda.

I used the walk to do it. I basically took the knife and ripped it all out there and went "HERE IT IS. THIS IS WHAT IT IS. THIS IS WHAT YOU'RE DEALING WITH." I scienced. I biologied. I anthropologied. I basically explained my nonbinary idenity and fluidity with every thing I had at my disposal, up to and including the family heritage. I'd gotten so stressd that I'd actually ended up reverting to a speaking speed that only one person alive—that man, my father—can actually comprehend. It's that thing where you don't type with spaces. likewhenyourespeakinglikethis. (Mom might've, but she's been gone for twenty years now. That's a whole nother angsty vent post.)

"And if that's a problem well there's nothing about it that I can do about it because it's been like that for years and I've only really just figured it out for myself and sorry if this wrecks things."

We stop on the sidewalk abruptly, and he gives me this—it's a RELIEVED look if you can believe it—and just says "Well it's about time you figured it out, and how about you stop worrying about it now?"

The rest of the walk was spent discussing everything that's been going on, the things everyone's going to have to keep straight (HAH. STRAIGHT.), and plans on maybe getting me a job that isn't going to physically disable me within a year's time.

He's going to make the effort.

I'm not getting disowned.


And I'm alternating between trying to clean up, prepping the new TV he brought me to replace the old one that the jackass left behind, and just grabbing at Marcel the plushie elephant because I just can't with this right now.

I don't know if I can actually believe things are turning around.

It feels unreal. So unreal that even the word Big Willy Shakes invented to describe it doesn't feel like enough.
railenthe: wtf!Cloud (wtf)
Among other things.

The last few months have been ridiculous.

My fibro pills had their dose doubled. Without me seeing the doctor first. That's one thing.

A couch I had brought into replace the bed and OLD couch turned out to be infested with bedbugs. Once I got rid of the couch and got rid of the bugs, it turned out that the entire building had them and it's still  fight that is going on. It also turns out that I'm allergic to those motherfuckers, and it took prescription antihistamines and sort of breaking the usual rules to get rid of the bitey bastards.

My knees have gotten worse, probably because fibro. The pain from it has spread to my hands, making typing more difficult than it used to be.

A crack has appeared in the load-bearing wall of my apartment.

*sips tea* On the upside, I've gone an entire week now without seeing one of those little six-legged bitey bastards. It's a good sign.
railenthe: wtf!Cloud (wtf)
$3.19 after the last bill of the month. No idea if I'm making rent. Burned vacation days to make up for the ridiculous pay error. No actual vacation.




*Rolls redshirts to off*
railenthe: (Default)
I have them somewhere on my hard drive but can't seem to find them right now. I haven't been able to find them for a bit.

I'm going to have to do some hunting.

On the upside, I figured out what was causing me the twitch, and I cut that medication out.

I should be able to write again in a couple days when it's completely out of my system.

So. Sunday.

Apr. 4th, 2014 01:57 am
railenthe: The Guy Too Derpy for the UAE (SUPERDERP)
I'll keep it short because I'm supposed to be sleeping:

1) Taxes showed up, as did birthday funds--those with an attached rider that I MUST spend them on something leisure. Apparently I've been looking crazy and need to unfrazzle. ...I'll post pics of what that turned out to be eventually.

2) The installments on that gigantic light bill are now rolling. It's shrinking quickly.

3) You know how you can tell there's an S&M convention in town? The broken doorknobs, the fursuits in the rooms, the preponderance of non-yaoi paddles (and surprisingly the commentary that it's the yaoi paddles that are sturdier, barring you making your own) and the occasional whip that gets closed in a door. There's no pictures because photos are a gigantic no-no, but I trust your imaginations.

4) Decided to take on April Camp Nanowrimo.

5) For some goddamned strange reason started putting buffalo wing sauce on EVERYTHING. I think the estrogen titan's after me.


OK. Now to get some sleep.
railenthe: (Default)


IF YOU’VE GOT A WEAK STOMACH, skip the cut. It’s a fairly graphic workday description. The TL;DR: Hours got cut because of a fairly shenanigans work situation/health situation in which orders were given to “call me off whenever the opportunity arises.”

FACT: my hours have been cut. I haven’t worked since last Sunday, right before my gigantic dick of a migraine started. (It was a doozy. Convulsions and nausea and vomiting and everything. I did nothing productive until today.)

FACT: this upcoming paycheck is going to be kind of sad.

FACT: this upcoming sad paycheck WILL do me a favor, since the aid office looks at the average of your paycheck stubs across a time frame, and a couple of them were better before this incoming one.

FACT: My tax refund is LATE and I have bills coming in to the tune of…hang on…

*stops to math*

*stops to math*

…dyscalculia (dyslexia, but with everything involving math) really sucks.



If I don’t do anything leisure-related at all payday will cover it. I don’t know what the status of any of my medications are, either, so I’m not adding that into the total either—since those are numbers that I Do Not Know.

railenthe: (Default)
This isn't on the official list of 100 Things because I hadn't honestly had to think about it, but yesterday and today, it hit me that


I mean, you've gotten me out of some seriously tough mental spots over the years, that's to be said, and even if I'm silly and goofy at times and don't always make a whole lot of sense you're always there.

And now you've gotten me out of REAL tough spot, the threat of being on the streets again with this crazy chunk of shenanigans with work and rent and medical crap.

I love all of  you and the only thing that would make it more perfect would be if this stress-related nosebleed would kindly fuck off sometime soon. <3
railenthe: (Fabulous As Usual)

Let's start with…well, how the hell does one describe THIS?


Yesterday I had a doctor's appointment.

Yes, I realize it seems that I start every other entry with that phrase, but I have a lot of doctors, and therefore there are a lot of appointments to be had half of the time. And I have to work to keep them all straight sometimes. It's a good thing that three of them are in the same building, or there would be some trouble. Anyway, the usual happened—poke, prod, measurements, weight's high, blood pressure's…actually, THAT was alarmingly low that day. We're keeping an eye on that.

I've mentioned once or twice that there's a problem with my system—peripheral neuropathy, that thing where your body's nerves are just sort of fried, misfire, and in general HURT A LOT even without provocation. The problem is, we couldn't figure out why it was happening, because I'm not diabetic. I don't have rheumatoid arthritis. I don't have MS. I don't even have your basic pernicious anemia, the B12 deficiency that would ALSO cause the problems I've been putting up with.

The last few months have been a game of Dr. House—work with a list of ideas, throw ideas at the list, throw as many medications as my constitution will allow at it, and see if it will work. Everything that we did that approach with had some problems with it—the annoying one, the time we thought it was shingles (excuse me, the time we HOPED it was shingles), the medication gave me the worst nosebleeds, and I had to drop it like a hot potato. It was unpleasant. What was MORE unpleasant was the fact that it took three instances of elimination process—dropping everything else I was taking at the time—to uncover it.

*record scratch*

I don't recommend that, especially if you're on a crapton of head-meds. It will Fuck You Up if you don't know what you're doing.

*music resumes*

Anyway, back at the doctor's office, I explain the NEW annoying crap that my system's been doing, plus the return of the stomach ulcer and the havoc it's wrought on my system in the interim. As I'm explaining the new neuropathy stuff, the doctor explains that Ulcer 2: Electric Bugaloo is because—LUCKY ME—I have severe IBS, and anything that could irritate my gut will therefore come with a free dose of the It Gets Worse trope. In my case, that means the ibuprofen that I had to take after the time I got shot wrecked my stomach a bit more hardcore than it would have otherwise. All I really can do right now is avoid any stomach irritants until it heals.

Oh, and THAT'S the good news.

Next thing that happens, doc orders me to stretch out on that cold table thing and starts prodding at places
To my shock, EVERYTHING IS RAW. (Especially the ulcer zone.) The bad leg goes twitchy when he gets to it, just like it did at the neurologist's office, which I explain when he jumps—it's a fairly violent twitchy, like if everything in the leg was a joint and he hit all of it at once with one of those reflex-hammer-things (I have no idea what those things are called).

It's at this point that the doctor informs me that now we KNOW what we're dealing with, and that there is no way my insurance is going to cover these medications.

"What are they?"

"Gabapentin, Neurontin, that sort of thing."

Fuck, I think. "That sounds like fibro meds."

"If I were you, I'd think about filing for partial disability, or medical, both if you can manage it."

Fuck, I think again. "What if I did and it didn't work?"

"Keep at it, make'em tired of seeing you, and as SOON as you even get a MAYBE," he says, "get back in here, because if we can't get this managed, it WILL get worse."

"Ain't gotta tell me twice."

So, what Friday boils down to is this: the neuropathy diagnosis was an UNDER-diagnosis with a dose of optimism, hoping that it WASN'T worse than that. What we're actually dealing with is fibromyalgia, which is a step ABOVE your garden-variety neuropathy—for one, it doesn't take the diabeetus to show up. Medicine knows jack shit about it, or what causes it, or why it hits who it hits. It doesn't kill, but boy will it make your life hell.

But there is an upside:

railenthe: wtf!Cloud (wtf)
Still alive.

On meds again.

Double ear infection.

Gotta love my luck.

Got a ridiculous idea that may involve an AU in which Tira from Soul Calibur and Kefka meet.

...yes I realize that is NOT SAFE FOR ANYTHING.
railenthe: (Default)

Actual content--interesting things, 100 Things, challenges, fic, original content, basically me NOT being a reclusive dick--will return on Saturday, October 19th.

Why then?

That's a day after I get back from my NEXT doctor's appointment.

The fact is, things keep getting worse. My leg has flared to the point where it feels just like the beginning, the muscle having wasted to the point where it is visibly thinner than the other leg. My arms and legs are a searing, burning pain throughout half of the day, my eyes are a painful, scrapey mess, and--the most annoying thing right now--motherfucking ESTROGEN. My brain is so scrambled, it's like the brainzaps are the norm now and sudden bursts of clarity are the brainzaps now. Friday, I'm hoping to get some answers.

I WILL answer to comments dropped here--[personal profile] kuro_pantsu, we need to work on a schedule for braaaaaaaaaains the thingy, and I figured out why my brain couldn't figure two things at once--that cocky bastard WAS a vet--FOR THE OTHER GUYS.

[personal profile] alkonost_storm, when I get back, we can eenie-meenie-minie-moe any RP to start up again and I am NOT allowed to argue. (TL;DR--I'm your bitch for the evening!)


railenthe: (Default)

I know I’ve been a little antisocial lately, so here’s a friendly fennec fox to break the ice.

Anyway, I got to the doctor today, and told him that yes, I want the Topamax for my migraines because it’s making me functional; yes, I know that it’s not a good idea to take medicines prescribed to someone else; yes, I was taking the risk anyway because otherwise I was intentionally overdosing myself into a torpor to get a modicum of rest; and yes, I know there would be bloodwork involved and GUESS WHAT, I’m already fasting so come at me doc-bro.

I also explained the annoying as hell blisters that I’m getting in my mouth, the odd lesion/laceration that’s cut its way around and into my cheek outside in, the weird-ass blisters and raw areas, the total numbness that my feet and arms are getting, and the fact that three hours of last Saturday went missing. Oh, and the stupid knee, and waking up and my leg being as responsive as a log.

We’re looking at a couple forms of anemia to be the GOOD!bad news that we find. I say that because the OTHER thing that everything matches up with IS IN FACT LUPUS and we’re doing all this blood work to actively attempt to rule THAT out.

I’m thinking protein shake then bed.

railenthe: happy OMG snake (OMG snake)
Which means I am going to have to take a bit of time to adjust to it. The new stuff wrecks my appetite (seriously, I have yet to be actually hungry) and I'm sleepy as fuck.

But I don't even have a low grade headache. At all.

Like... nothing. At all. Zip.

So I'm going to enjoy that for a while.

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