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Musing Moment 141: Post-Consultation

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This is the first day where I have the space, the silence, to really sit down and have a talk with myself about recent events.

So self… How are you? And no, “I’m fine,” isn’t an ok answer between us. I’m here for you. I will always be here for you and I need you to be honest with me; with us.

How are you feeling about having cancer?

Having cancer isn’t really the thing that bothers me. The thought of having surgery bothers me. The thought of my life depending on a daily medication bothers me. What happens if there’s a zombie apocalypse? A nuclear bomb? What happens if I’m kidnapped or taken hostage and I’m denied access to my medication? What happens if I can no longer obtain it?

Having my thyroid removed will keep me alive. I get it. There’s something inside my body that while yes, it is slow-growing, doesn’t spread, blah blah blah… it’s still trying to kill me and will succeed if I don’t remove it. I accept that. I have to have surgery in order to stay alive. But after surgery, the only reason I can keep living a “normal” life is because I live in a place, in a time, where I can give my body the thing it will no longer be able to create on its own.

So what happens if that changes? What happens if the time and place no longer work the way they currently do and I’m left without what I need to live?

Ox and I have an understanding. I called him on my lunch break at work on Friday. We talked about this. I know for a lot of people it may seem silly, stupid, to entertain such far-fetched ideas; things that will “never” happen. But I need to know. If.. IF… they did happen, what would we do?

I told him that I needed him to promise me, if this became a legitimate issue that he would take me out, or if he couldn’t do it himself, to let me do it myself.

Of course, I was in tears as I made him promise me.

If I have no control over my need for this medication, then I want to have the control to at least not suffer if I’ll never be able to get it again. I need the people in my life to understand not only is this the type of issues I’m having to contend with and reconcile within myself, I need them to understand that these are my wishes, while I’m still of sound mind and body.

Me: Don’t let me suffer.

I’ve talked to Jon and he’s agreed to be who I name in my living will, because there are no guarantees in life. This surgery is safe and very rarely are there complications… more blah blah blah blah…

Mom was about to be discharged to go to rehab when she had a pumonary emolism, ok? Don’t give me your bullshit about everythings going to be fine and I don’t need to worry about things like that.

Yeah… I fucking do because unless you can show me my contract where it says I’ll have no complications and go on to live a full life and die many, many years later, then you can’t tell me this isn’t something I need to worry about. You’re not the one literally having your throat cut open by a stranger who’s an asshole and didn’t even have time to answer your questions.

I want to have things in place just in case there’s a complication after surgery. That way the people I love aren’t left not knowing what to do because we never talked about the real shit that mattered. I’ve already started looking into a last will and who would get the hope chest my grandfather made for me and mom’s china hutch and china set and my cross stitch stuff or my magic cards. I’ve already asked Ox what would happen to the kittens if I were to die because I need to know they’ll be ok.

That’s the type of shit I’m having to think about while my patients ask me how my Thanksgiving was.

Me: Do collectors get to take their due out of the life insurance I’ve left for my brothers? Oh, yeah… Thanksgiving was nice. Not a lot happened…

Except everything happened. I was diagnosed with cancer and have had to have non-stop conversations with countless people about it and I still don’t have a surgery date because my insurance has to “approve” my surgery.

What the actual fuck?

Are you saying it’s possible to be denied a life-saving operation? Should this be something I actually put energy into worrying about because it’s a thing? I need approval for a medical procedure when I’ve paid thousands of dollars on health insurance from when I first started working until now? Thousands of dollars that I’ve never actually used for anything other than yearly checkups?

No wonder so many people have fucking issues with our health system. I’ve done more than my part and yet I need “approval”?

Go fuck yourselves.

I’m having to think about things like, “if I were to die should I be buried or cremated? If I’m buried, where should I be buried so the people who would want to visit my grave can do so without having to spend thousands of dollars to do it? If I die somewhere far away from my burial site, how expensive would it be to send my body to the burial location? Is that even a thing? If so do I have to be imbalmed to do it?”

God. So many fucking questions. And I have a group project I haven’t even really touched for school this coming week. Not to mention all of the reading for this unit that I haven’t done. Not going to feel bad about prioritizing reassuring family and friends that I’m not dying as I prepare for the possibility of my death over reading nursing school BS assignments that haven’t helped me score better on the tests because your tests are BS to begin with. Arg… >.<

There’s so much going on inside of my head that I don’t even know where to begin.

Does having surgery make you less of a cancer survivor? I mean… It’s not like I’m fighting it. I’m not going through chemo. I’m not having to do a lot of stuff that most people diagnosed with cancer have to go through. I have this surgery. It’s removed. I go about my life… That’s not heroic. That’s not really “fighting”, is it? I’m having someone else cut me open. They’re doing all the work and I’m hoping they do it well enough to not fuck up.

That seems sort of like a cheap way of fighting cancer. Not cheap as in “not expensive”. But cheap as in, “I’m not having to face the same hardships as others”, so does my experience really count? Would I really be a cancer survivor?

So that brings into question, how do I feel about mom? She had cancer. The same cancer, in fact. Do I think of her as a cancer survivor?

Honestly, I never really thought about it. I knew she had thyroid cancer at some point; before I was born. I knew she had surgery. I knew she took medication. But I never talked to her about it. I never questioned it. She was mom. She was awesome. I didn’t think to talk to her about it. I didn’t think to explore that experience, that side of her. And now that I’m facing it myself, there’s no way to go back and have those conversations.

There was this whole side of her that I never knew anything about and I’ll never know it because I never thought to ask.

I do think of her as a survivor. I do think of her as a badass; even more badass now since I’m facing something she went through. So if I think of her that way, why am I different? Why wouldn’t I think of myself in the same way, the same light, as someone who went through literally the same thing I’m going through?

That’s not fair. That’s not logically. What is it about me that makes me unworthy of the same mentality? Why am I put into a different box of “non-survivor” status?

I don’t have an answer for that. At least not yet. But I know it’s there so that’s at least a step in the right direction.

The surgeon himself is a jerk. I had to dig out my surprised face for that one… He came into the room and didn’t even know what I was there for. He “believed” I was there for thyroid issues… yeah, because the last time I checked cancer is sort of an issue… He didn’t know if I should have a partial removal or a full removal… Well… based on the information from my endocrinologist, there’s a questionable nodule less than a centimeter big in my left lobe, so her recommendation was for a full removal instead of a partial… You know, taking out everything since you’ll already have to take out the right side. It would be better to have a baseline of ok rather than a baseline of “what’s this weird shit over here going to do later down the road,” sort of a thing…

It felt like I was doing his job for him because he knew nothing about my case.

He gave me his sales pitch, telling me how experienced he was and how post-surgery would go then stood to leave. I mentioned that I still had questions, not mentioning that it was four pages worth of questions since some of them had already been covered.

Surgeon: Well, I’m already 30 minutes late for a surgery so I really can’t stay.

Fuck you, dude. If your nurse practitioner wasn’t amazing I would be looking for someone else to cut me open. Actually, I dislike you so much I almost would rather die of cancer than let you save me. Seriously. I came to this appointment because you were supposed to have time for me and to know my case, which apparently you couldn’t do either of those things.

I flipped him off when he closed the door, leaving me and Ox alone in the room, waiting, as he flagged down his NP to come clean up his mess.

The NP is amazing, though, and literally the only reason I’m staying with this particular surgeon. One of my coworkers knows of him. She used to work at the same hospital. She said even the other doctors think he’s an asshole, which is saying something. If other doctors, who are assholes, think you’re an asshole, then you must be a special type of special.

But yeah, his NP is fantastic. She was so kind and compassionate. She understood when I explained the situation about mom and how at the moment I felt relatively fine but that pre-surgery would most likely be extremely hard for me. She assured me she would be in the surgery room with me, helping the surgeon, and that she could even be with me pre-surgery if it would help. Knowing she’ll be there makes it seem more doable. I won’t be alone. I’ll know someone. She said she would most likely be the person checking on me post-surgery as well since they’ll have to keep me overnight to make sure there aren’t complications. She even answered all the questions I had in my notebook, never indicating that any of them were stupid or silly. Even my question about “Will it being winter affect my recovery?” was answered with kindness and compassion and an informative response; which depression is a big worry about surgeries in winter, in case you were wondering.

If I’m unconscious for the whole time I’m around Mr. Asshole and conscious for all the other times with the NP, then I think I’ll be ok.

The NP actually had a thyroidectomy herself… when she was 20… Holy fuck? You had just graduated high school and were told you had cancer? What the actual fuck, Universe? I want to talk more to her and hear her perspective. How did you feel being told that young that you had cancer? How do you feel now? Do you feel like a cancer survivor? Do you ever feel vulnerable or less than or unworthy because you’re missing part of yourself?

Jon, Jason, and my dad have wanted to know if I want them there. I’m not sure yet. I’m hoping to have the surgery between the 18th of December and the 9th of January. There’s a part of me who’s hoping for the 20th of December so I can avoid all of the birthday stuff…

Me: Sorry guys, I would love to have a party… but, you know… cancer… so I can’t… Maybe next year, though. Love you. Bye. : D

Oh, and trust me… I’ve been making a ton of cancer jokes. I mean… if my choices are crying about it or making extremely inapproiate jokes about it… I’m totally going to joke and laugh.

I want to have the surgery before my winter break from school ends. Though, I still don’t know what I want to do with school yet. I haven’t told my instructors since it’s been holiday break.

At the moment I’m inclined to tell my family, “No. Don’t come”. It’s the holidays. Traveling is going to be a nightmare and ridiculously expensive for something that is a borderline outpatient surgery. I mean… everyone keeps making it sound like, “You’re sick. You go to the doctor. They make you better. You go home.” Why would I have people waste time and money to be there for something when in two to three days I’ll be back at work? Shouldn’t I be able to handle that alone without having to drag everyone through that emotional and financial expense?

It’s confusing. My friend Allison, who just had a baby not even two weeks ago, talked to me a bit about that part of the situation. Which, you want to talk about raining on someone’s parade…?

Me: Congratulations! By the way, I have cancer. How was childbirth?

She said that maybe Jason, Jon, and my dad WANT to be there. That it would make them feel better TO be there, rather than being home, by themselves, no knowing what’s going on. Not being able to see me before or after surgery.

She has a point. It’s not fair of me to make decisions for them. They’re adults. They can decide if seeing me in a hospital is something they can or cannot handle. It’s not my place to say if it is or isn’t. It’s not my place to take the choice away from them.

I won’t know until early this coming week when surgery will be. I have to make it through at least another day of work, maybe a day of school, with not knowing. What if it ends up being Christmas week when it’s my turn to work Sunday at the clinic since New Tech covered this past Sunday for the Thanksgiving holiday? What if I’m unable to cover my three days at the clinic?

Even though I’ve been told by my boss, who has also gone through something similar with her thyroid, not to worry about work, I’m me and I’m going to fucking worry, ok? Telling me not to worry is like telling me not to breathe. Let me get right on that…

I worry about my team. I love my team and this is going to affect them just as much as Ox or anyone else in my life. Maybe more so since I spend so much time working beside them.

It is going to take a bit of time to figure out the dosage of medication I’m supposed to be on. There’s math and stuff to help figure out a “right” dose but that’s more of a starting point rather than a miracle number. Every person is different and every person responds differently. We won’t know until about six weeks post-surgery if their numbers are working. If they aren’t, does the dose need to be increased or decreased? After the adjustment is made it will be another six weeks before lab work and be redone to see if the dosage is better or worse. Finding the right dosage is going to be a process, a long one, and during this time because the thyroid controls your metabolism and energy levels, my moods are going to be all over the place.

If my dosage is too low, I’ll be tired and fatigued, and not the kind that coffee and a shit ton of caffeine will help with. I will be physically, bone-achingly tired because my body can’t process energy the way it’s supposed to. If my dose is too high, I basically feel like I’m on speed, unable to sleep or focus. Unable to stop or sit still. Not all that awful aside from the health complications that go along with not sleeping and the potential heart arrhythmias… At least the apartment will be clean when I die? That’s a bright side, right?

So I’m supposed to go six to 12 weeks of potential “wtf” inside my body that I have absolutely no control over while going to nursing school three days a week and working another three at the clinic and only have Sunday off, ever, to do the rest of the shit that needs to happen in my life, like paying bills and laundry, food shopping and cooking, followup appointments, vet visits, mental and emotional breakdowns…

Yeah, all of life gets regulated to a single day next semester. How am I supposed to be successful at anything with everything I have going on?

I don’t have an answer for that either, at least not yet.

I want to talk to the head of the LPN program to see what my options are as far as school is concerned. I’ve already taken out loans for the program. What happens if I stop? Does the school refund the money? It’s not like I’m, “Naw. I’m not feeling this whole nursing thing. I’m going to go be couch potato instead.” I literally have cancer and I don’t want to have to worry about school assignments while I’m trying to be mentally and emotionally ok because I’m really not mentally and emotionally ok right now.

Can I sit out this coming semester? Maybe take a prerequisite for the RN program like Microbiology? Something online so I don’t have to worry about traveling anywhere on my days off from work but still something moving me in a forward direction and keeping me “active”? Could I hop back into the LPN program but do it full-time instead of part-time? I mean… I was already having to look at cutting back my time at work anyway since the part-time program meets Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. If I’m having to cut back at work anyway, why not get it done faster? If I can’t reenter the program full-time can I wait until the next occurrence of the part-time program? Would I have to redo the first semester even if I pass it? Would I have to pay for anything if I step back for a little while or would you guys hold onto the money I already gave you? How does all of this work? Am I fucked and I have to do next semester even though in any other situation I’m sure this would be a “qualifying life event”?

Why are all of these systems so fucking broken? Why are half of my worries even fucking worries? I’m worried about not dying and who will take care of my cats if I do. I shouldn’t have to worry about approval for the surgery and how fucked am I if I don’t keep trucking along at school.

And yet, here I am, having to figure all of it out because that’s how our systems work. I have to have approval to live.

I still need to cook meals for the week. I still haven’t put my clothes away from this past Monday. I haven’t touched schoolwork in a week, which luckily, it’s been the holiday break so there wasn’t really anything major to worry about. Still… I was hoping to use this week to get ahead for the final exam. Totally did not go how I thought it would and I can’t bring myself to care. I’ll figure it out somehow, just like I’m having to figure everything else out.

For now, I’m going to go and cook since I’m hungry and after that, I’m going to cross stitch because fuck it. It’s my only day off. The only day I haven’t had to call people and tell them, “Hey, funny story… I promise it’s really not that bad, but really I’m trying to convince myself of that, too, so hopefully, you believe me because I don’t have any energy left to convince myself.”

All of my problems and questions will still be there, waiting for me, regardless if I cross-stitch or not, so I’m going to because I want to feel like I did at least one thing for myself this whole week.

Fuck you, Cancer Kevin. You’re an asshole.

Daily Post 133: Finally Back Home

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I’ve been back from Dever for a few days now. I got back Wednesday evening around 8:45. I drove home and saw Ox. We went to sleep only to wake back up at 3 in the morning. He headed to work and I drove to Fremont to cover a shift at the clinic there, then came back to Lincoln. Ox and I met up for lunch before going back home. We had Chinese at a place we’ve seen before. I really liked it and hope to continue to be able to go there on those special occasions where we go out.

Thursday evening I should have gone into the class for my last chance to participate in clinical, but I didn’t. Instead, I stayed home that evening, going to bed early to wake back up and cover a shift at my own clinic Friday morning.

I was dead. Not one of those “I’m sort of tired but it will burn off as the day goes on” sort of deads. No. This was a physical barrier of, “I’m your body and you’re asking too much of me so I’m going to make you feel like crap for the whole day because fuck you for not taking better care of me,” sort of deads.

I was ridiculously slow at everything I did on Friday and the only reason we stayed on schedule was because it was me, the float RN, and my FA on the floor and both of them were running circles around me. I’m grateful for them pulling my slack because I wouldn’t have been able to make it through the day without them.

It was good to see all of my patients after an entire week’s absence. I got to share my adventure with all of them and that most likely contributed to me being “behind”. All of the time I spent talking and catching up with people was time that I wasn’t working or making sure all of the tasks on my PCT checklist got done.

It was a pretty good day overall, just one where I knew right from waking up that surviving my day would be my main goal. Mission accomplished, if just barely.

The trip itself wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be. I ended up getting into Dever close to 4 pm. I messaged Chrys since I had time to kill that evening. I booked an Uber out to Aurora and spent the evening with her and her son. We had homemade spaghetti for dinner and EJ got to read me a few bedtime stories. Once her son was in bed we were able to chat for a bit before I had to get back to the hotel since I had an early morning to prepare for.

Overall, it was a fantastic way to decompress from the trip out there and a very nice last minute addition to the trip. Having some social time with someone I care about was definitely restorative and a pleasant break from my normal routine. I made it back to my hotel room around 9ish. I met my roommate for the event and was pleased that she seemed pretty nice. Her name was also Jen. Go figure. XD

The first day of the event was decent but long. I didn’t sleep well the night before and had to fight off a headache for most of the day. We got into things like the MBTI and communication skills and conflict resolution. All sorts of psychology things, so I was fairly engaged through most of it.

We created our own personal credos and then graded ourselves on how well we were living up to it currently. Balance was one of the things on mine and the area where I graded myself the lowest.

I’ve picked up a lot of overtime for the coming two weeks. This week is going to be my only “normal” week work wise and that’s still with having to take the final tests for my CNA class, so even it isn’t going to be all that restful.

I need to remember to maintain balance and to not burn myself out. I need the things that make me feel fulfilled and which recharge me. I need time to grocery shop and do laundry and meal prep. I need time to go to the dojo and the gym. I need time to sleep enough at night so I don’t limp through my days depending on coffee to survive. I need time with Ox to feel connected with him. I need time to have phone calls with Jon and the other people in my life that I love. I need time to cross-stitch and write.

I need “me time” and I can’t have that if all I do is work seven days a week.

So while I can’t really back out of the obligations I’ve already given myself, I can be more mindful going forward and that’s what I intend to do. The new year should see things being a bit smoother. The new tech will be with me for a few weeks to train on our machines. We just hired a new RN since the other one wasn’t working out. She has to give 30 days at her current job, but it should only take her about eight weeks to go through the training process. I’ve already talked to my FA about taking time off of work in February to visit Florida. I could see Jon. I could run the Warrior Dash that’s held there. Big Bad said he would be interested in running it with me. I guess that means I have to work on that whole running thing again so I don’t suck. I could see my old teammates and patients. I could see a handful of other people from my inner circle. I could have lunch at my sports bar.

There’s all sorts of things I could do that I’ve wanted to do. It gives me something to think about and look forward to.

Chrys ended up having Wednesday off since it was a federal holiday so she drove me to the airport. That was also a nice change of plans. Both the fight out and back were non-stop flights on fairly small planes so I got to have a window seat by myself rather than being stuck between two people the whole time.

When I got to work Friday I had an email saying I had made it to phase two of the leadership application process. I haven’t worked on it any more than the rough post I wrote the other day, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot.

As far as this weekend goes… I’ve paid bills. I’ve gone through my email inbox. I’ve gone through the pile of papers that was next to my computer desk. I’ve unpacked fully. I’ve done laundry. I’ve meal prepped and am back to doing low carb meals. I’ve sent a message through Facebook to my sensei explaining my extended absence. I’ve bought Christmas cards to give to my patients. I’ve cleaned and dusted my computer desk with plans to open up my computer tower to clean it out later in the week with Ox. Ox has also been extremely helpful. He’s washed the sheets for the bed which we made together. He’s helped me fold the laundry and put it away. He’s cleaned his own areas of the room so it’s not as cluttered or icky feeling anymore.

He went grocery shopping with me yesterday where we had lunch together, just us. We got a new shower curtain and bath mat set this morning while we were out getting aluminum foil which he set up for me while I put bacon on the cooking sheets for breakfast. Go, team!

Spotify sent out their end of year stuff. I’ve listened to something like 4500 new songs this year. That’s almost 12 songs a day. And here I thought I slacking on expanding my music selection.

I finished the fairy cross-stitch pattern I’ve been working on, so I’ll most likely make a post with all of those progress images. I’ve started a new project, but since it’s for Ox and he’s not allowed to see it under penalty of death, I won’t be posting progress images of that one either. I’ll save posting a completed image of it until after Christmas once he’s had a chance to open it.

My class is almost over. This coming Tuesday I have the final test for the class and I sign up for state testing. Thursday is the state written test and for those signed up, the state skills test. Everyone else will have to wait until the following Tuesday to complete their skills test. Part of me wants to go on Thursday and be done with it. The other part of me wants to wait until Tuesday so I have more time to freak out and/or study. Mostly freaking out though since I know that’s what I’ll do.

I really do have other things my time would be better invested in other than freaking out but there you go.

I’m sure there are other things I could write about in regards to my trip or the events leading up to my departure as well as the events since my return home, but I feel this post covers a lot of it.

Ox and I have been doing well. He was supportive of me while I was gone, including taking a phone call where I asked if I could be honest. He said yes and I admitted to wanting to come home while tears rolled down my cheeks. It wasn’t a bad trip, but when you’re an introvert surrounded by 650 other people, forced to participate in team trivia where they ask which Super Bowl did the Broncos most recently win… you kind of just want to curl up in bed under the blankets and hide. Only you can’t because then your roommate is going to want to know what’s wrong or think you’re weird and can’t handle human interaction.

Ox promised that I could come home and hearing those words, as silly as they may seem, made me feel more ok.

We’ve had a lot of sexy time since I’ve been back. Totally ok with all of it. Just yes. All of the yes.

Anywho, aside from feeling like I’m caught back up for the most part with life, I think that’s about it. For now, I’m going to go cross-stitch before working on some discussion posts for my class later in the day. The rest of today should be fairly calm and relaxing. No working on the addition. No trips into town. Just hanging out and resting before what should be a fairly normal day at work tomorrow.

This coming week is the calm before the storm, but I’m already planning for that. I have a container of chili in the freezer. I want to make a batch of chicken taco soup which freezes nicely as well. I want to prep well in advance since I’m going to have so little time in the next two weeks to truly meal prep. I’m doing a keto BLT salad this week which seems to be doing well. I tried it yesterday. I might add more bacon to it the next time I make it, but overall I think it turned out well which is good because it was cheap and simple to toss together. Another meal I can add to my arsenal for the coming battle.

It was a good trip, but I’m glad to be home. And with that, I’m off to continue with my decompressing.

Daily Post 087: Kittens Make Everything Better

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Today was a day. Most of it sucked but there were moments of awesomeness that I feel I do need to put into writing so I can appreciate them after I’ve slept.

It started by waking up this morning. I didn’t sleep well last night so I woke up tired. It started with remembering that today was “The Day”. The day the schedule changed at work. The day that was full of new and unknown. It was the day I wasn’t looking forward to and I spent most of the morning mildly dreading the moment where I would have to get into my car and drive myself towards what I knew would be structured chaos.

It’s also the start of “The Week”. The week where I get back on top of my health goals. It’s the Monday where I start tracking what I eat and watching my carbs and counting my protein. It was the first morning of eating my breakfast rice. I want to modify it a bit next week but overall it wasn’t bad. I had my Bang energy drink along with my decongestant pill. I had my cigarette with Ox.

I was going to survive today. And with that mentality, I trudged to my car and drove through the dark to work.

I never realized how bright the moon can be until I moved to Nebraska. It’s just past the full moon so it’s still fairly large. Large enough to make the 4am darkness not feel so dark.

I made it to work at my normal time, pulling into the parking lot at the same moment my FA did. We both went into the clinic where an A-Level alarm was going off for our water system…

Not an ok start to my day, Universe. Thanks…

The alarm was for water temperature which is a big deal because the water system itself is ridiculously expensive and sensitive. If the water gets too hot things can break or not function or deteriorate too much… it’s just bad juju.

We ended up getting that sorted out but at the cost of time. Instead of being able to walk into work and just do my thing we had to wait roughly 20 minutes before being able to really move forward with things. We recovered, thankfully, but then patients started showing up. Of course one of the first ones ended up being late and running into other people’s time. A few other patients had problems with their accesses… By the time everyone was on I was ready for a break from the floor.

I guess it was noticeable because Mrs. K asked me if I was ok. I said I was tired and homesick, which is now my secret way of admitting to grieving. It’s easier to say “I’m homesick” than to explain that I miss my mom and that mom was always “home” and that I just really want to hear her voice or feel her hug me one more time.

Mrs. K said that if there was anything she could do to let her know. She also took that moment to let me know that she enjoyed working with me. She said that I’m a hard worker.

It made me feel good because the last time we worked together I felt like I didn’t hold my own. I felt like she did way more than me and that she must think I’m a slacker. Hearing her words helped a little, but not enough to make me not dread the coming change over.

I took my morning break, eating one of my almond bars. All too soon I had to go back to the floor.

Change over was rough. Mentally. Physically. By the time our last patient showed up, our super non-compliant one, I was done. I didn’t have it in me to chit-chat with him and pretend to be cheerful. I just wanted to do my job and go have lunch because I was starving.

Mrs. K came over and said I was awesome. I had made sure all of the machines were set and all of the documentation was caught up because that’s another big part of my job. While she was nearby I asked if I could request a huge favor. I asked if she could initiate the treatment for Mr. Non-compliance.

She said she would; that she didn’t mind. It allowed me a break from everyone. It let me catch up on all of the PCT tasks I hadn’t been able to get around to. When she asked if she could go to lunch first I didn’t mind. When I went to lunch I had my chef salad and messaged Sir since I had an email regarding him.

That led to a conversation that didn’t help my day. I don’t want to go into details. I really, really don’t. At the same time, this is something frustrating that I need to write about.

I’m not going to let my blog, my dairy, create more drama in my life than it already has. I say and write what I write. While the meaning to me may be clear in the moment of my writing, I have often gone back and reread my own posts and have seen first hand how words can be confusing or seem as if something else was meant or implied.

So… Just for clarification; when I said I was done with Orlando, I meant I was done with the tasks I still needed to take care of. Things like getting off the lease or switching over the internet account or getting my stuff from Warren. Things like figuring out why my CPR certification wasn’t in my teammate file or contacting my old FA. My “to-do” list no longer has anything regarding Orlando on it, so, in my mind, that means I’m done with Orlando.

I’m not done with the people there. I’m not never visiting. I don’t think the state should go burn in hell and everyone along with it. But, in a way, I am done, so that’s what I said in my post.

And just like with the Orlando section of my to-do list, I’m done writing about this moment in my day. I’ve written about it. I’ve acknowledged it. There’s nothing further I wish to say about it on here. I feel like anything more would be petty on my part, not that I don’t feel like it’s already slightly petty but I don’t know what to do.

This blog is supposed to by my spot. My area. I’m supposed to be able to write freely here about whatever I want, however I want. I don’t want to feel like I can’t because other people react to it in whatever way they do.

I hate how I feel like I have to edit the one area of my life that I still have as an emotional outlet. I don’t have the dojo. I don’t have my mom. Let me have my blog.

The rest of the day was itself. It didn’t get better. It didn’t really get worse either. It tried to be on par with an average day at my Orlando clinic and it almost succeeded. Almost.

I racked up 6.2 miles on my Fitbit with over 4000 calories burned. I’ve started wearing it again to get a feel for an average day. It’s more information I can take to my trainer tomorrow.

I had thought to workout after work, but those plans quickly faded early in the day. The only thing I wanted was to be alone, so even the thought of going home made me want to break down and cry in my car.

Jon had tried calling me during the day, so once I was off the clock and in my car giving myself a high five for not actually breaking down, I called him back.

We chatted for a while. It felt good to bitch about my day to someone who understands. He got to tell me about his day and how he’s doing in school. It helped me feel more ok about going home. More like I could do it.

When I got home Ox was waiting on the front porch. I like it when I come home like that. The first thing I see is him. I get a hug before I even get inside the house. I’m able to decompress outside before crossing the threshold. None of the badness can follow me inside. It’s not allowed to.

We stayed outside for a while, me explaining my day and all of the frustrations that went with it. He listened, never making me feel bad or that I was blowing things out of proportion. I know a lot of today’s overwhelm comes from being tired, but it was still a rough day regardless of that fact.

Eventually, we went inside the house. I had two 1/4 burger patties. I’m still about 2000 calories under so there’s that going for me.

I’m tired. I’m fed. I have training in 12 hours. I’ve been approved to work at the clinic tomorrow by myself so I can start tackling the NFACT training I want to do. That means I’ll get a bit of overtime this week.

I got my paycheck figured out today. At least partially. so there’s that.

I did well today. Even if it was a lame day, I did well.

Even Mr. Non-compliance wasn’t all that bad. He told me he was talking with my FA and mentioned how he really liked me because I was kind and sweet and how my FA said that she really liked me, too. That I’m a good worker and she’s glad to have me on the team.

There were good moments in my day. I got to talk to two people who matter to me, even if it was only via the phone. I got to come home to a safe place, even if it doesn’t always feel safe from an introverted standpoint.

I don’t want to go to sleep thinking today sucked when it really didn’t, so I’m not going to.

Today was rough, and I survived. The schedule won’t be as new on Wednesday and I’ve set the clinic how I want it prepped. No other techs will need to be at the clinic from this point on so I won’t have to rely on someone else to do things the way I want them done. I’ll know what I’m walking into. Hopefully, on Wednesday there won’t be an A-Level alarm going off so the day can start properly. Normally. Smoothly.

Today was a start. A rough one, but any start is better than no start.

Oh… and kittens… because kittens make everything better.

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Daily Post 069: Lazy Sunday

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It’s Sunday.

I woke up to sunlight streaming through my curtains. I was nice and warm for once. It was a picture-perfect moment of the start to a lazy day. One where you cuddle with your significant other for longer than you should. One where you eventually make your way into the kitchen and make a special breakfast and plan a leisurely day of doing nothing in particular. Maybe a few chores, maybe a random trip out to someplace you’ve talked about going to but never actually seem to have the time to go do…

It feels like that type of morning.

I’m not tired, but there really isn’t drive or motivation to be overly productive. It’s a nice day. I don’t want to crush it under the weight over everything that “needs” to get done because very few of my tasks are actually needs.

Friday morning my FA sent me a text message saying the Nebraska FA had contacted him and I might be receiving a phone call. Nothing about if the email was good or bad. Nothing to prepare me for anything. Just, “Hey, I got an email. You might get a call.”

I replied back saying thank you and went about my day. I had lunch with a friend who I recently reconnected with. She was before Sir. Before Mother Earth. Before Jarrett. I went to a BDSM convention with her in St. Louis one year; her and another person.

I know why we lost contact. It was because of me. It was because I became scared that things were going too far too fast and instead of communicating I went ghost instead. I stopped replying to messages. I deleted accounts. I’ve thought of her fairly often since our last time together. I’ve wondered how she has been, what trials Life gave her to overcome. I’ve wondered if she’s still in Orlando or if she moved away like she talked about.

She sent me a friend request on Facebook early last week. I accepted. We’ve talked a bit. We agreed to have lunch on Friday since we both had that day off. It was a good outing. It was nice hearing about her experiences and being able to share mine. It was nice being able to say, “I might be moving soon and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye.”

I got to explain what happened between us and to say I feel I would handle the situation differently now. I’ve grown since then. I’ve had three or four years worth of experiences. It’s one of those moments where I don’t know how to describe it. I’m still me. I’m still the same person I have always been, but, at the same time, I’m different. I’ve learned things about myself and about Life. I’ve learned things about other people and how words and mean different things; can have different intentions.

My fear of commitment and being trapped in relationships is something I understand better and can talk through now. I’ve learned that even though a fair amount of the relationships I have been in were negative, that not ALL relationships are like that, and not every “us” said to me is a chain obligating me to stay or change something about myself.

I still plan to move if everything works out. Meeting with this person doesn’t alter anything. It gives me a chance to have closure for something in my past that I didn’t know how to handle and possibly to nurture a friendship that didn’t deserve to be punished or die simply because of other past hurts.

It stayed a simple lunch even though we both still felt a connection. We may meet again before I leave. It may or may not progress past the point of a simple meeting. She has her own relationships now and I have mine. If anything did happen we both agree that it would be more of a “One last good memory” type of encounter. Our paths are different then what they were and that’s ok. Different doesn’t mean bad.

While I was at lunch with her I received an email which I almost wrote off as a spam message. It was saying that I had an unclaimed check and that I needed to reach out to them to figure out how it should be handled.

Upon looking further into it, it was an email from Full Sail regarding my last check from them. I never cashed the check and since it’s tax season, they’re trying to reconcile their accounts. They wanted to know what I wanted to be done with the money.

Um… there’s 1k sitting around with my name on it?

Yes, please. Like… not just yes, please, but like… holy shit, you have no idea how much that could help me right now, yes, please.

I have a form I need to print out, fill out, scan, and email back to the business office, but in roughly two weeks I’ll be receiving what should have been my last paycheck from the school. I feel like I don’t deserve all of the positive things happening in my life at the moment. I’m so used to things being hard. I’m so used to struggling and fighting for everything, and now, suddenly, pieces are falling into place. When it looks like something won’t work out some random event happens which solves the problem before it even has a chance to present itself.

Sort of like the situation with the apartment. If Ms. Side Chick moves in, she would take over the accounts. I would close mine, she would transfer hers. Poof. Done. Warren would pay his rent money to me as a way of paying back what he owes. I would annihilate my credit card which would leave me able to focus on the car and then the last bit of student loans I have.

It’s not just a pipe dream. Life could actually not suck soon.

All of this is dependant on the people in Nebraska actually wanting me. It’s the last bit of puzzle piece I’m waiting for official confirmation on. I’m hoping that happens next week. At the very least I plan to talk to my FA and ask about the email. I mean, come on, at least tell me if it was good or not. Jeez… >.<;

Saturday I worked. It was a pretty smooth day. I was able to get to sleep extremely early. Around 7 pm. I woke up feeling able to get through my shift. It’s surprising how much a full night of sleep can change your perspective of the day.

I came home and thought about playing WoW. I did get online and putts around a bit but I turned in early again. Ox doesn’t have internet at the moment because his modem needs to be replaced and a tech can’t get out to his house until Monday. Even if he had been online I don’t think I would have stayed up very long. There wasn’t interest or motivation for higher level thinking. Instead, I went to bed, curling up with my blankets and pillows, falling asleep with the light on and my contacts in until 3:30 am when my alarm unceremoniously woke me up.

I got up and at least took my contacts out before shutting off the light and falling back asleep until roughly 8 this morning.

I’ve talked to Ox, and not just text messages either. I’ve used my phone more in the past month than I have in the entire time I’ve had it. We… talk. And even though I’m introverted… it’s nice. It’s nice to hear his voice. I enjoy starting my day with an actual good morning. I enjoy talking about what I might get done, or how work is going. I enjoy hearing about his day.

I enjoy talking about… everything with him. Which is weird. We both talk about things we haven’t talked to others about, and those we usually preface it with, “I feel awkward/vulnerable saying this…” we still say it and then we discuss why we feel that way before we actually address whatever it is we’ve admitted to.

All of my connections with people are unique. Everyone is different in their own way and everyone has their own flaws and shortcomings. Until Sir, Warren #1 had been my healthiest relationship communication wise. Since then there has been Big Bad. And now Ox.

I don’t know. It’s interesting to see the evolution of my relationships.

I know part of it may be new relationship energy, but I also am aware how that too is different. In a way, it’s similar to how it felt when I first started seeing Big Bad. It’s not fireworks and explosions and fiery passion. It’s more of a content, “this is safe” sort of feeling.

With Big Bad it was most definitely “safe”, with Ox it’s more “home”. A feeling of belonging.

I knew I would most likely never meet Big Bad’s family. With our age difference, his divorce, his kids… there’s a lot that I don’t think works in our favor to ever have a happily ever after. We love each other, but we both started the relationship saying we weren’t looking for anything. We didn’t want commitment. We wanted a companion and to not be alone. We wanted to be accepted for ourselves.

I guess in that regard I’m the one who’s changed. I’m the one who wants a home and to feel like I have a family again. I’m the one who wants to come home to a hug and a kiss on the forehead. I’m the one who wants to fold the laundry and snuggle on the couch before going to sleep.

I’m the one who wants more.

And maybe that’s unfair of me. Maybe Big Bad wants more, too. I don’t see that “more” happening, though. I don’t know what else to say about it. Maybe this is another moment where I should have communicated more and didn’t and because of that something has been potentially lost. Or maybe this is how this universe is supposed to play out and in another one, I did talk to him. Maybe in a different universe, a different life, I stay and we live together and I have a happily ever after with him.

It’s a pretty thought. Thinking that I could have potentially been happy in all of my relationships. That we worked through our differences and found peace and harmony together.

Right now, I feel more content that I have. I’m content with the thought of leaving and continuing to find myself. I’m content with the thought of moving on from my past. I’m content with living in what people consider the middle of nowhere.

I guess that’s as good a way as any to sum those emotions up. I’m content. With my choices. With my possibilities. With my repercussions.

I am making MY choices rather than letting others make them for me and that gives me a feeling of stability and ownership over myself that’s… comforting, reassuring.

I do plan to be a bit productive today. I need to print out the form for my check. I want to go to the gym since I haven’t in almost a month. I want to donate plasma since any extra money I can get will help make this transition smoother. I want to grocery shop for the coming week so I can meal prep on Tuesday.

I want to actually make a to-do list today and do it.

That’s where I’m at this morning. It feels like I’m ready for Life again. I’m ready to take steps forward.

It’s a good feeling.

Musing Moment 110: Trust Issues

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I had thought to make flashcards today to study for my certification, but sitting here at my sports bar with most of everything else already done I feel the need to write instead.

I had therapy today and during it, I realized something I guess I’ve always known.

I have trust issues.

Only… it’s more than that.

I don’t trust my friends to be there for me when I need them. I don’t trust my brothers to help me when I fall down. I don’t trust anyone to be there the way mom was and because of that, I feel alone.

I knew I felt alone because mom died and I knew that I don’t think anyone else in my life is reliable. I guess finally realizing the real reason behind being lonely is what’s so sobering.

Out of everyone in my life, all the people who care about me, there isn’t anyone that I would want to do a trust fall with.

Everyone in my life has either let me down or proven themselves to be unreliable.

In a way this realization makes me feel more solid, more stable. At least I know the reason behind my feelings now. At least I know the logic behind not believing anyone when they say something to me. At least I know why I go through these seizing moments of isolating loneliness when things get hard and I feel like I can’t find a solution. At least I know why I don’t reach out to others when things get overwhelming.

No one else is handling their own shit, so what would make me think they can help me with mine?

I can’t talk to my older brother about my emotions. I can’t not clash with my younger brother. I can’t depend on Warren to pay rent. I can’t count on work not to fuck me over.

I trust my blacksmith, but our lives do not cross the way normal relationships do so he cannot be the type of safety net mom was. He can be there in as much capacity as he is able to be, but that’s all. I trust Big Bad as well but pride would prevent me from asking for help if I ever needed it.

Everyone else has a giant wall between me and them. Some I allow closer than others, but no one is on the inside anymore and it was interesting realizing that.

I don’t even know if it’s right for me to say I love people anymore because realizing that I don’t truly trust anyone makes me question how “true” the love I feel is. I feel if you don’t have trust you can’t have anything. Trust is the foundation for everything. So if I don’t trust the people in my life how can I say I love them?

Maybe there are different types, different degrees, of love? I do believe that to be true. I love my patients differently than I love my brothers. So maybe it’s more realizing that the love I feel only goes so far. It only covers so much. Most likely not as much as other people love me.

While people may trust me to be there and to come through, I do not trust others to do the same for me because history shows me they won’t.

I have stopped believing words. People can say anything they want to me. I will hear them and I will make a mental note of what was said, but I won’t truly believe what they say until I see actions which support it.

I’m evaluating my relationships again. I’m realizing how many of them are with people who are content to merely exist rather than to truly live. It’s easier to not do things. It’s easier to not come through. After all, we’re friends so I’ll understand right? It’s not personal. Things just “didn’t work out”.

I think I’m done with those mentalities. I think I’m done bleeding pain and energy into things that aren’t going to change. I think I’m ok with having the trust issues I do because those people have earned my lack of trust.

Maybe this is where quality over quantity comes into play.

I never thought of myself as having many friends. I thought the ones had were of quality, but if I don’t trust them then how healthy are those relationships? Is it worth continuing to maintain them when it feels one-sided and parasitic? Would I be better of being slightly more alone, have slightly fewer friends, but know the ones I do have are trust-worthy and really will be there when I need them?

Wouldn’t it be better to know the numbers in my phone are ones I can call and, no matter what, receive help?

Looking at it that way I wouldn’t have more than 10 numbers.

It’s something I need to meditate on further.

The past two weeks have been hard. I’ve worked 56 hours each week. I’ve had to give up the dojo because I can’t afford both it and rent. I’ve been looking into donating plasma to keep making ends meet. I’ve decided to go back to school for Nursing. I’ve talked to two advisors who want me to pursue becoming a professor and who have helped me map out how to get to that point in life.

I spent Saturday evening with my blacksmith. Monday evening I spent with Big Bad. Mother Earth and I have made plans to go to Daytona Saturday night to watch the sunrise Sunday morning.

There are certain facets of life that suck. I’ll never see Mr. W again. We had to call EMS for him. If he’s alive he’ll be going to a different clinic now, one closer to his facility. I never got to say goodbye to him. I never got to hold his hand and say, “I’m glad I met you.”

Those moments are so fleeting. I’ll never be able to say those words to him and there’s a part of me who so desperately wishes I could. I let that moment go and I will never be able to get it back.

Every class I miss at the dojo is a moment that cannot be redone. Every time I work past when I’m supposed to and I give up something I wanted, it’s gone for forever. Every time I don’t say words I’m risking the chance to never say them again.

I told my blacksmith about losing my patient. He said the first step is realizing it’s not my fault.

I know it’s not my fault. I know mom’s death wasn’t my fault.

I don’t feel guilt.

I feel helpless. I feel like I do all these things and yet they still die.

He said the next step was to realize that as healers, at best, we are speed bumps in life. We cannot stop death. The best we can hope to do is prolong life for a fraction of a second more and to accept that we did our best and healed as fully as we could.

Maybe that’s where I’m at. I feel helpless because there is nothing I can do to stop death. I am powerless, weak, small, and mortal in the face of Death and I always will be. We all will be. We are but humans.

All I can do is live my life to the fullest I can in the moments I have.

I think I’m done with the relationships where I don’t feel there is trust.

I think this is another phase, another transformation in the journey of my grief. I know people will be hurt but I also know I deserve better than hollow promises and empty words.

I owe self-respect to myself.

I’m figuring things out. I’m taking steps forward. Some of those steps are going to take me away from people. I think that’s part of life, though. Part of the journey.

I know I’ll figure it out.

Those aren’t hollow words. That phrase is a fact.

Mom always had a way of convincing me to hold on even though I wanted to give up.

I’m holding on for you, mom. Some things super suck right now but I’m not going to let Life win. I’m going to figure it out and I’m not worried about all of the blood, sweat, and tears it’s going to take. Part of me wants it to be hard. I want to get to the end and have the ability to throw up my middle fingers and to scream in anguish, frustration, pride, and triumph until my lungs give out and my throat is raw.

Fuck you, Life. Fuck all of your complications. Go on and make it hard. I’ll still crush it because I refuse to accept defeat. I’m going to make this, all of this, work, and there’s nothing you can throw at me that will stop me. Not money problems. Not trust issues. Not fear or worry. Not sleepless nights or 16 hour days.

I will do more than exist. I will live my life and you can’t stop me.