Recently in Friends Category

I've spoken about my friend Mindy here many, many times, about how her and her family are just really great people, any time that I've needed help, a ride, or to be taken to the hospital, there they are, ready and willing to help me.
Well now Mindy and her family need my help, your help, our help.
Her post explains in detail what is happening, but if they don't get some help, Mindy and her family, husband, son Jeff, and daughter Katie, they will be homeless.

Things have not been good recently around here. Chris and I just recently found out that our landlords must sell the house that we have been renting since October of 2008. It wouldn't be such a big deal because normally tenants are allowed to stay until the house does sell. Not in this case. They have asked us to leave by the end of this month. They are in the midst of a foreclosure and are wanting to sell asap and the easiest way to do that is get rid of the occupants so that it will be a smoother transaction for all parties involved. Except of course, US.

We may have first months rent but nothing more. We have been looking and most renters now are required to pay security deposit, first and last months rent up front. That is a lot of money to come up with in just a few weeks. A goal that we will not be able to make on our own. Our parents are all retired. They receive their social security and are budgeted to that alone. They are willing to help as much as they can but the reality is, it will not be enough. My biggest fear is that if we do not come up with enough funds that we need, we will be homeless.

Mindy and her family need our help, whatever you can spare, even if it's just $1, they need our help to come up with a security deposit, first, and last.
Mindy has always been there for me, they never ask anyone for help, they are always the ones helping others, but this time, they really need help.
If you can help, please, please, please, go to Mindy's blog and click on the PayPal donate button and give whatever you can.
And please, spread the word, link to her post on your blogs, Twitter, Facebook, wherever.
Mindy and her family need our help, I am begging for help for them.
They are really great people, so kind, loving, and generous, always helping everyone else.

About a week or so ago, I sent an email to some friends, just 2 friends, and in that email, I said a lot of stuff.
I let it all hang out baby!
Really, I did, I let it all out.
I said all of my fears, worries, concerns, I talked about my health and all that goes with it.
I talked about my fears in regards to my health, and because of those fears, my sanity.
Like, I feel sometimes like I'm completely losing my grip on everything, like when I sit down and really think about my health and the things that are wrong with me and the things that could possibly go wrong, I start to lose it a little.
Actually, I've lost it already, and so each time I think about it, I lose it a little more.
And so I said all of these things, I said all of my health issues, and I said all of the things that could possibly go wrong, and I said all of my fears, and I even said that yes, I am losing my grip on everything around me.

And I got no replies back.

I think I scared them.
I think because of how honest I was, and because of all of the things that I said, that I sacred them off, scared them away, or something.
I'm really hoping that the reason they didn't reply is because they don't know what to say, that because I just dumped all of that on them, and they really don't know what to say.
I would really hate to think that I scared them away, scared them out of my life.
I only sent it to 2 people, 2 people that I consider really, really close friends, and the thought of scaring them away, frightening them away, out of my life, scares me to death.

I hate not getting replies, especially when it's something that freaking huge, that big, that important to me, because it makes me feel like all of those fears that I have, are totally justified, and that's why I don't open up more to people.
I don't open up and talk to people because when I do, they either don't reply to me because they are scared, or I scared them away, but either way, I scared them.
I didn't mean to, I just really needed to get it all out and now that I have, I really think that I scared them away and I need them, I need them in my life.
I need them to just acknowledge that they read it, just say 'hey Kat, I read it and I don't know what to say', and that would be a totally cool, totally acceptable reply.
I would be so totally OK with that kind of reply.
But not replying at all, ugh, it hurts, it's actually physically painful thinking that I scared them away and out of my life for good.

I swear right now, that I will NEVER, ever, open myself up that much ever again.

Pink fuzzy bunnies and rainbows.
Pink fuzzy bunnies and rainbows.
Pink fuzzy bunnies and rainbows.
Pink fuzzy bunnies and rainbows.
Pink fuzzy bunnies and rainbows.
Pink fuzzy bunnies and rainbows.
Pink fuzzy bunnies and rainbows.

Things I'm about to say are really hard for me to say.
I face the possibility of a lot of people having their say about me, judging me, or anger, or pity, or hate, fear, worry.
I face the emotions of all kinds of things because of what I'm going to post here.
And I deserve whatever people have to say.
I do not deserve kindness, and I certainly do not deserve anyone else ever telling me again how strong I am or how strong they think I am.
I am not strong, I haven't been strong in years, I have not been "me" since 2001.
I lost who I was when I had to stop working outside the home, when my life was forever changed because of this body which has imprisoned me.
I am not even a shell of my former self.

I left out something that happened on Sunday, left out several things that happened on Sunday.
I left them out because of fear, guilt, and shame, and I still have all of those emotions speeding through me like a train going at high speed with no conductor at the front.
I don't know if people will understand, if anyone at all will understand, and so I am afraid, afraid of being judged, hated, pitied.
I hate people pitying me because I have enough pity and self loathing running through me to cover me for however long the rest of my life is.

The reason that I have very brief memories of Sunday is because I made a mistake taking my medications that were given to me on Saturday.
I was given the phenergen to stop the pukes and the diars, and I was also given valium to help calm me down and help me rest.
I hadn't slept in days, approximately 7 days at that point, I hadn't eaten either because eating made the pukes and diars worse.
So I was completely exhausted and dehydrated. and still getting sicker and sicker.
The phenergen wasn't working, I was still puking and having the diars every 10 minutes, so I called my doctor, I asked him what to do, he told me to keep taking the phenergen, so I did.
Or what I thought was the phenergen.
Both bottles were identical, same color, cap, labels, and height, the same tiny print, so I kept taking the phenergen, or what I thought was the bottle of phenergen.
In reality, I was taking 2 valium every 4 hours because the phenergen's instructions were to take 2 every 4-6 hours if the symptoms kept up.
I thought in my exhausted and dehydrated state, that I was taking the phenergen, but it was the valium, and a lot of it, so yes, of course my condition worsened.
The diars and pukes didn't stop at all, and I was stumbling and staggering to the bathroom to get sick, and stumbling and staggering back to the couch.
My condition terrified the teens, they had no idea what was happening to me, neither did I, I was taking the wrong medication.
I don't recall the ride to the hospital, I don't recall anything that happened at the hospital except for the doctors talking about my white cells and some sort of infection, I don't recall things said or done by me to people, to doctors and nurses, to Mindy and my sons, to Sebastian.
Apparently, I was very nasty to everyone, yelling, cursing, saying extremely hurtful things, and I recall none of it at all.

Since learning the very next day what I had done, I've been extremely depressed and ashamed of myself, beyond ashamed, guilt is running through me so badly, that when I think about what I possibly said to people, I fall apart and start crying uncontrollably.
I hurt people, I hurt people that I love and care about so much, and I cannot forgive myself even if they forgive me.
I hate my body, I hate all of the pain, I hate all of the pain medications, and medical tests that I endure, and I hate of the doctors, and I hate every damn minute of every damn day of my life.
I hate being alive because I am a prisoner of my body, it holds me captive with it's never ending pain and the medicines hold me prisoner because my body needs them now, is totally addicted to them, I am trapped, stuck in a world of pain, hurt, and medicine that has me so tight in it's grasp that I am suffocating.

Please do not mistake me saying that I hate being alive as me being suicidal, because I am not.
I am far too much of a coward to take my own life, and no, I do not even think about suicide, I just hate this life that I live, I hate it more than the word hate can ever fully describe.
 I am just so full of guilt and shame because I have hurt people that I truly love and care for, and I honestly wouldn't blame them one little bit if they never forgive me for it, I don't expect forgiveness, I don't deserve their forgiveness, I don't want their forgiveness.
I want to feel this guilt and shame, I want it, I have earned it, what I did and said, the hurt that I caused, I earned it, it's mine and no one can take it from me.

As for my OCD, it gets worse and worse every day, my ticks get worse every day, I have caught myself in the middle of my little rituals and even though I've caught myself, I still can't stop doing them, as a matter of fact, it makes me do them again and again.
I've picked up some new ones too, I am now constantly wiping my eyes and wiping away my hair, pulling my pony tail tighter, re-arranging my head band, sweeping and brushing my hair out of my eyes, and then, if I see even a single strand of hair blowing in front of my eyes, if it will not stay in place away from my face, I will pull it right out of my head.
I grab the strand and follow it all of the way up to it's root at my scalp, and I yank it right from there, right at my scalp.
Eventually, I'll be taking some sort of medication for hair loss prevention because I'm pulling so much of it out.
Then, after yanking away even a single strand, I brush my clothes off from a sitting position here at my desk, then I stand and brush them off, and then I wipe off my entire desk, moving my mouse, the coaster I have for my cans of Diet Coke, my pencil box, my notepad, I move every single thing and wipe my desk with my right hand.
Then I wipe the monitor, and then I get up and wipe off my computer tower, and then the table on which it sits, and before you know it, I've wiped down everything within a 4 foot circle of my desk area.
It's getting worse, the ticks are getting worse, things set them off, and what sets them off the most are extreme feelings, nervousness, guilt, shame, fear, and so this week, I've put one hell of a polish on my whole computer area and probably yanked out a good couple hundred hairs.

This week has been hell for me.
I made a huge mistake taking my medications and I hurt people that I love, my sons, my friend Mindy.
I hurt them, and my guilt and shame is eating me alive and setting off my ticks almost hourly.
I catch myself crying, I catch myself barely breathing, I catch myself staring at nothing, pulling hairs out, wiping my desk, my mouse, wiping everything, and wiping in very particular patterns, always wiping everything down in an exact order, and in an exact pattern.
 
I fear that I'm going crazy, like really, truly, going crazy, like my brain is starting to shrivel up and dry out, like I am not going to be ok, like eventually, I'll be locked away or I'll be one of those crazy cat ladies who talks to her cats because they can't talk back, because even if you say hurtful things to them, they have no idea what you are saying and then I won't have to feel so guilty.
I hurt people that I love and care for, I made a huge mistake with my medications, I never do that, I never ever have taken the wrong medication, and because I did, I ended up hurting people that I love, and I am so so sorry, but I am not wanting forgiveness, I am not worthy of forgiveness, I am falling to pieces because of this damn body that imprisons me.
It's grasp is tight, it's prison walls are growing smaller, and I am in a place that I hate, a body that hurts me more and more each day, and I am full of guilt, shame, self pity, self loathing, and I am not forgivable, I do not want it even if it's there.

Please forgive my blogging absence since like last Tuesday I think?
Yeah, Tuesday.
Anyway, I've been battling an illness again, and this past weekend was pure hell for me and the teens.
I had a ton of stuff going on, I caught some sort of stomach thing that Mark had caught but in me, it mutated into the stomach thing spawned from the very bowels of hell, and it was also the "end of the month" pain medicine wise, so I was short a few days just like every month which resulted in my stomach being even sicker than the stomach thing that I was dealing with.
But I got the pain medicine taken care of by my doctor, but the stomach thing stayed and got worse, and worse, and worse as each day passed.
I was so sick that I was completely unable to eat or even drink anything at all for about 3 days, and if I tried to take even super small sips of water to wash down my pain meds and now some seriously strong antibiotics and phenergan that the ER gave me on Saturday to try and stop me from vomiting,  I ended up even more violently ill than I was within just minutes of taking them.
All the vomiting and diars I was dealing with is not exactly the best weight loss supplement, but I did drop 9 pounds from Wednesday through to today.
Hey, weight loss is weight loss for this fat chick, it all counts to me no matter how I lose it. 
But I was so ill that the teens got really scared for me and made me go to the hospital again on Sunday, and that was the absolute worst day of my weekend.

I only have brief recollections of actually getting to the hospital on Sunday, I know that my friend Mindy took me, that Sebastian called her, and I recall being put in a wheelchair, and then the next thing I remember is waking up on a hospital bed in the ER with an IV in my right arm and 2 doctors standing over me and talking about my high white cell count and a massive infection that they couldn't locate just yet.
While I was out, they drew blood and ran tests, ran a cath line and took urine samples, and they were talking about the possibility of cancer.
Again.
I have an unnaturally high white cell count, it's always been high, but it's been extremely high since my first spine fusion in 2006, but apparently it was really super high this time, and so they threw around words like cancer, again.
I've already been down this road, I've already had tons of cancer tests, but here they were, talking about it and I admit to getting, and still being, really, really scared.
I was in the ER on Sunday from about 3pm until almost 10pm, they pumped in bags and bags of fluids because I was so dehydrated, they gave me about 6 doses of Zofran because it was obvious that the phenergan hadn't helped me at all, and about 6 doses of dilaudid for all of the stomach cramping and pain that I was in, but I continued to be violently ill, so violently ill that they had to bring in a portable toilet for my room.
I know, TMI, and it was embarrassing and humiliating, and I hated every damn second of it, but being hooked up to an IV and getting sick so rapidly, I wouldn't have been able to make it to a bathroom if I tried.
Puking and the diars at the same time, ugh, and the nurses kept coming in to check on me and clean me up, and there was some sort of brownish liquid in my vomit that concerned the nurses, so they went and got the doctors again, and they kept calling the lab to make them hurry up with the blood test results so they could try to figure out what I had so that they could treat me properly.
By the time they released me, they still didn't have the lab results back yet, so they said they would fax them to my doctors ASAP, and then they sent me home with some more antibiotics and a script for Reglan which is another anti-nausea medication and it also "speeds up the the rate at which the stomach empties into the intestines."
They gave me that in the hopes that whatever this thing, infection, whatever the hell it is that is in my gastrointestinal tract, will get the heck out.

I'm very lucky that I have medical insurance, Medicare, and a drug plan through Humana, because if I had to try and get a health insurance quote right now, I'd be laughed out of the offices.
I have a few friends who have no health insurance at all and they have medical issues that they have to pay for out of pocket, hundreds and hundreds of dollars to go see their doctors and get their medications.
Every month when they have to go to their doctor, they have to make sure they have enough money to pay him, hundreds of dollars, and then enough money to pick up their prescriptions that the doctor writes, hundreds of dollars, and they struggle and struggle to be able to pay it every month.

I'm lucky, in a way, to be disabled.
I have medicare, my doctor co-pays are very low, my prescription co-pays are very low, I remind myself just how lucky I am every single time a friend tells me about their horror story of trying to make sure they can pay for their doctors.
But at the same time, I hate my life the way that it is, it's just one thing after another with me, and I'm exhausted from it all.
I didn't sleep again last night, so I tried to get some sleep this morning around 8:30am.
I only slept until 10am, and when I woke up, I had started to break out in hives again.
On my face only this time.
My right eyelid was all puffy and itchy, my lips all puffy and itchy, and then various little hives on my face.
It really sucks to have it be one thing after another all of the time.
I never catch a break.
If it's not back and/or hip pain, it's arthritis pain in every joint, if it's not that, it's a cold, if it's not that, it's a stomach issue, if not that, it's my body breaking out in hives.
Every month I can count on being down with something.

This is what I looked like this morning.
 













Don't I just look so pretty?

The teens and I have so much to do before we go to Maine, so many things to take with us because of how long we'll be there, so many things to take care of here at the house too, that it feels like I should just hire a long distance moving company to help me pack and organize it all.
I have to go to a store and buy myself a pair of jeans, I don't own any, I wear shorts or cotton capri pants all year round here, or I have been borrowing Mark's jeans when it's cold and I need to go somewhere.
While at the store, I need to get a few t-shirts, and a package of tube socks for the 3 of us to share.
I have to get help putting on my socks and boots while in Maine, but it's better than having freezing feet the whole time.
I need to make my list of everything that I need to take, medicines, personal care items, I need to get all of my medical cards ready for the airport, that's always so much fun going through security, so I just make sure that I have everything in my hand to show them.
I need to make sure that the teens have enough warm `clothes and socks too.

I also need to get the netbook and stuff ready to go, that will be in my carry-on, not in a suitcase, not even going to risk it.
I need to finish programming all of my contacts into my new cell phone, and learn as much about using it as I can, take the manual with me anyway.
And then I need to have Mindy come over so that we can go over everything about the cats feeding and stuff because she's watching them and the house for us while we're gone.

There's so much more too that I can't even remember right now, but I will, and then as soon as I remember it, I need to add it to the list so I don't forget it again.

I'm now a regular at the Doctors Hospital ER, I should get like a badge or something.
ha ha
I had broken out in hives again on Thursday, they were all over my body, really bad all over my body.
Both of my eyes were nearly swollen shut, and the hives were spreading everywhere, even on the top of my head.
When my left hand started tingling, I made the decision to go to the ER Thursday night around 6:30pm.
I have high blood pressure, so I was concerned about that, like maybe I was having a heart attack or something.
It wasn't busy, thank goodness, I got right in, and when the doctor came to see me, she said I had the worst case of hives she had ever seen.
Both of my eyes were almost completely swollen shut at that point, my face, neck, torso, head, shoulders, every inch of me was covered in raised red welts.
The hand tingling thing was a hive growing larger and right on top of a nerve in my hand, and that's why it was tingling so bad, the nerve was being squished by a giant hive on the back of my hand. 
She asked me if they were "literally" everywhere on my body.
I said yes, they are every single place that there's skin.
She said "Aww, that really sucks, but we're going to take care of it right now, hang in there just a few more minutes."

She had the nurse start an IV line, and then they pumped in 8 different medications to get rid of the hives, stop the itching, something  for the pain, and one med to ease my stomach because the other drugs are known to cause stomach issues.
She warned me what the side effects of the drugs were, and she asked me if I had a ride home or was I driving.
I told her a friend was going to come back and pick me up.
She said good because 1 of the drugs can make people fall asleep within minutes of getting it. She also told me that a couple of the drugs were like taking an appetite suppressant, that I would not feel like eating anything at all during the whole week that she's got me taking the meds.
She was right about that, I haven't wanted to eat hardly anything at all, I just don't have any appetite, none whatsoever.
Which sucks because we got the Girl Scout cookies that I ordered, on Thursday night when Mindy brought me home from the ER.
Many thanks as always to Mindy and her family for helping me out when I need to go to the hospital and stuff.
She's truly a great friend to have, I am very lucky to have her in my life.

I went in at 6:45 pm, and was not let go until almost 11:30pm, that's not too bad considering that all of that time was actually spent on a bed in the ER with an IV line and getting the itches and welts taken care of.
I've spent an enormous amount of time in bed this weekend, she wasn't kidding about the drugs making me tired, I was out like a light man.
I definitely enjoyed the sleep because I have insomnia really bad a lot of the time, so I totally didn't mind falling asleep and staying asleep for a full 6 hours at a time.
I took them all weekend long, and yup, they make you dead freaking tired.
I've probably had the best sleep of my life this weekend and got it because I was broken out in hives.
I need to get the name of that medicine, I hope that it's a sleeping pill and not like a drug to cure things.
They could totally market and sell it as a sleeping aide.