Life is an errant shower water jet in the face.

Do you ever hop into the shower and find that there is one errant little jet of water, that acts like a heat seeking missile going straight for your face?  You move left.  You move right.  You do handstands and turn your back.  Yet it still hits you right in between your eyes, hard, and has enough cast off to go into both your eyes so you stand there blinking and cursing whatever you did to deserve an annoying spit in the face from the universe?  Yes? No?  Well for me the last few days have been one shower jet watergorby in the face, literally and figuratively.

Though I like to remind myself things could be worse. 

I had the audacity to go out with my physio girls for dinner (post to come, I wont sully that fun with today's gripe) and now am being punished by my puritanical body. If I'm honest I was on the down slope pre-dinner and if it wasn't for the joy of seeing my ladies, I would normally have stayed home and crawled up in a ball to die slowly under my doona. But, sometimes it's just worth the post-fun hijinks.

The past day and a half has been unpleasant to say the least.  Stuck in bed with barely enough energy or wherewithall to be peeved that I was stuck in bed.  Well if I'm truthful I am still in bed.  But as I'm sitting up, have scoured the sickly sludge off my body, and have managed to resist the siren call of my pjs, I feel technically, I can finally be classed as up and about. 

Really bed is the only place to be if you can't reach triple digits in your bp.  I tried.  I really did.  But swearing at my blood vessels and threatening them with all sorts of nastiness just didn't seem to work.  I also tried to be positive. I repeated "I think I can.  I think I can" ad nauseum, but that also proved about as useful as a tube of SPF 30 on the surface of the sun.  I was proud to get to a decent 92/41 by about 9pm last night, thanks of course to my Uri Geller spoon bending and healing powers of positivity.  If I could've stood up, I would have danced for joy.

Haven't eaten a great deal since Friday night. Still not hungry and just a tad nauseous, so the occasional nibble of something salt laced is probably about it for now.  I am hoping this lack of intake will aid my plans to decrease the size of my ever increasing rear end.  Hell, it has to work better than my regular method of LMAO, which is simply not working and frankly I am beginning to feel like a liar every time I type those four letters.

Note to self: do not comment or message anyone whilst in this state of uselessness.  Messages may be incoherent at best, or come out the wrong way entirely.  I've heard this is how wars start.  Well that and something about Texas Tea.  At the time you think you are exceedingly eloquent and humorous.  However, this judgement is being filtered by a brain severely lacking is O2.  Really it's the equivalent of drunk dialling, minus all the "I loves yous".

I did manage a shower yesterday, which was a feat in itself.  I made it from my bed, to the shower, onto my shower chair, managed to clean off the hideous paint pealing bed funk to a tolerable level, get out, get dressed and make it back to bed without serious incident.  This is pretty impressive even on a good day.  There have been many a time where I either, didn't make it, fell off my shower chair, or missed it when I sat down.  Naked humiliation was avoided (apart from the quick glimpse of pasty marshmallow I caught in the mirror).  No new bruises were acquired.  Go me.  I did manage a minor scalding when I forgot how to use the cold tap, but that is still a good day.  I did have one of those errant spouts.  I moved left.  I moved right.  It still found my face.  Solution.  Give in and put face washer on face, lean head against wall and let the water fall.  Much easier than fighting.

(On a good day this is about how successful my showers are) 

The rest of the day was spent either comatose or watching episodes of 30 Rock. Kenneth Parcell can get me through many a tough time.  20 minute episodes are good when your brain is mush.  Even better if you have seen the episodes before and you don't have to try and follow a plot. 

One problem with sleeping so much is you dehydrate, and if you have Bob you dehydrate at light speed.  Today I have lips with cracks the size of the San Andreas and there is no lip balm that can fix that quickly.  So today's plan is to guzzle enough water to cover today and yesterday.  This also means many a pee trip from bed to loo.  I think all this to and fro classes as my cardio for the day so no need to break out the Wii.  I will now put on my headband, sexy leotard, and Olivia Newton-John's, Physical on loop, to make me really feel like I'm on my way to buns of steel.

I'm hot, and not in the good way. Well I don't actually know if I've ever been hot in the good way.  Though I did get called a MILF by some delightful teenagers last year.  Does that count as a good or bad thing?  I'm still not sure.  I do know that I am the bad type of hot at the moment.  It's a delightful Winters day here is Aus. Misty rain, soggy world, 8C if we're lucky, and I'm rocking my Summer's best of t-shirt bare feet and rolled up trackie dacks (my attempt at pretending I am cold like normal people).  The last three night's I've slept with  either a sheet or nothing, whilst Mr Grumpy had the electric blanket on max, the doona up round his ears and lay there shivering.  The rest of the house is wearing Arctic thermals, jumpers and thick wool socks and I have heat intolerance up the wazoo.  Stupid body temp is higher than usual, and it's always high.  If I sweated I'd be lying in a salty pool by now.  All in all I guess it helps with our heating bill, especially when I'm home by myself.  You know, silver linings and all.

I think I'm going to go with the whole "and on the last day He rested" plan, it is Sunday after all.  Saturday was completely misplaced.  It is obviously hanging out with my Bedazzler and single socks.  I'm thinking about requesting a do-over.  Is that possible for a whole day?  Let me know. 

Cheers
Michelle :)

Miniature Disasters - KT Tunstall, seems somehow fitting.

Turn Away Now. "Woe Is Me" Post Ahead.

ARGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! 

(Deep breath).

That feels a wee bit better.

& @&amp ;% $# $@ #! #^ $# $# (*&;^ %$@( !!!!

Sorry it appears I still had some more frustration left. 

I apologise in advance if this post is interrupted by random swearing or screams of anguish.

It's one of 'those' weeks.  Usually I can find my happy place, but not today.  I've tried, I have.  I've done the deep breathing.  I've tried my yoga.  I've had my coffee and put on my soothing oils.  And still my bad attitude persists.

Today is one of those days where I just want to sit in a corner and sob my heart out.

Today is one of the days I want to slap myself for being a pathetic woman.


"Oh my God, what has happened?", you ask.  And to be honest I don't know.  It's just crap.  Yes Bob is messing with me, but that's nothing new.  Really nothing extraordinary has happened, (well I guess there have been a few things but nothing that I really want to discuss on my blog, no offence peeps but some things need to stay off the WWW).  But in reality crappiness is something that happens periodically in life and most times I can suck it up, do what needs to be done and move on.  But this week......ugh.  This week it's beyond me.

I think sometimes everything just builds up and up and up and one little innocuous thing is all it takes to send you over the emotional edge.

I looked down in the shower today and saw that yet again, there was a wookie residing in my drain.  That was it.  Stupid I know.  I looked at that moist and manky pile of hair, soap suds and epithelial rejects covering the drain and my heart sank.  It's not the first time this has happened.  I lose so much hair each day I am surprised that I'm not bald.  Every time I shower it's the same story.  Every time I brush my hair I end up with my own personal shag pile rug at my feet.  But today I just looked at it and thought, "I am so over this.  Not even my hair is safe from the effects of Bob".

I know it' stupid to be so upset over such a little thing.  I want to slap myself.  In fact I may just go do that.  I know there are many worse things going on in the world, but it was that finally straw.  Can't I have just one part of my body free of the effects of this stupid disorder.

Arggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

(Sorry told you it was likely to pop up again).

It comes in the long line of stupid stuff you lose when you get sick.  Stuff that shouldn't matter but still does.  It matters because it's little and stupid and shouldn't ever be an issue.  It sits in there with all the other things that women my age don't normally have to deal with or consider.  It sits in there with all the other choices and independence that have been stripped away one by one.


For example, I can't stand anything tight on my stomach.  I have become elastic granny girl.  A belt, normal waist band on a pair of jeans, stockings, all things that are now pretty much not an option any longer.  High heels really are out too.  I have balance problems one a flat floor in bare feet, so 4 inchs and tip toes are not really my friend.  In many respects my Dorothy Shoes were an "in your face" to Bob.  I am determined to wear them out at least once.  I also know it's probably stupid I'm just choosing to ignore that fact for the moment.  Add in that alcohol is a no no, standing in line is complex, that I am developing adult acne (I'm 30 freaking 7), that.........well I could go on and on and I'd want to slap myself again and the way I bruise I'll have a face like an aubergine and that's not a good look.  Today petty is winning.


Sleep is eluding me this week.  Last night I think I managed a max of 2 hrs straight. There was half an hour here, and half an hour there, but that's about it.  Unfortunately, that can't sustain you physically or emotionally for long.  I know I'll crash at some point and do the whole coma sleep routine.  I only hope it is sooner rather than later.

Last night my feet decided to balloon up.  Not unusual really, but this time they were up on the coffee table and still ballooning.  In fact they were heading towards blimp territory, so much so that Mr Grumpy said "Wow you're having a swelling day. I've never seen them like that".  And that's saying something as we are 4 years down the track now and little about my body should be surprising anyone.  Even the rug rats had to come over and have a look.  The youngest thought it'd be hilarious to write his name on my feet by pushing his finger.  Sexy yellow letters surrounded by lovely shades of lilac and crimson.  Even today they continue to tingle away and look puffy. 

Me and the Bearded Lady, Freak Show here I come.

(photo from here)

Today's game is nausea.  Unrelenting waves of heat and nausea.  Some days I wish I could just vomit and get it over and done with.  But no my body wont play that game today.  Mind you, the days I don't want to vomit are usually the days I'm bent over my porcelain lover all day long.  Even water is making me want to throw.  Add in the spinning head and it's fun fun fun.

I know my bp is particularly low today (and yesterday) as is my heart rate.  This seems to mess with my ability to cope dramatically.  Bp below 90 systolic equals hair trigger for the water works.  I'm sure there is some physiological link for this because it happens every time.  Mind you sometimes a big sobbing cry is just what I need.  It's like a valve to release the pressure that build and builds.  Once it's over I feel lighter, tired too, but lighter.  I say this as someone who hates to cry.  For me it has always been equated with weakness thanks to a whole lot of family baggage that would take 5 therapists and a century or six on the couch to resolve.  I don't judge others, just myself.  I have this stupid idea that I should be able to cope no matter what.  I'm working on that, but it does add another layer of stress to deal with on days like this.  Maybe is a galaxy far far away I can get past that one.

I know most of this is transitory.  Bob likes to spin the symptom wheel each day to see what he'll throw my way.  A moment of excitement each morning to see what he'll dish out.  One day nausea, the next day dizzy, the next day un-co, the next day............but today logic is beyond me.

I feel like a whinger.  I am a whinger.  I want to get back to that false veneer of happiness I can usually present so well.   I'm sure if I say I'm okay with my lot in life I will eventually come to accept it.  My CBT training says it'll work if I stick to it.  And most days I do.  Just not today.

Today I'm not going to fight it.  I'm just too tired.  Today I'm going to ride the wave.  As long as I find a way to tread water rather than drown I think I'll be okay.

In the words of Scarlet O'Hara, "Tomorrow is another day".  Can I request that it hurries the hell up.

Sorry for this woe is me moment.  We will resume normal programming next week.

Michelle

I'm not asking for pity by the way.  I'm just venting.  I'll probably regret posting this tomorrow, but that's the way it goes.  Today I'm going to expose my petty, whinger, pathetic side, to the world.  Tomorrow I'll shake and slap myself.  I'll break out the can of "harden up princess", and go back to ops normal.