I am lucky, I guess, that I am working on a unit in class right now that it very detailed and involved for the kids but I just have to be there to answer lot of questions. I am happy to do so because, for the most part, I have the answers. This is rare for me but I am teaching something I have been doing since I was in 8th grade so, I got this.
These past few days been I have been coming home between my morning class and my afternoon class and sleeping. I know every kid at university is going “Okay…and…” but for us “Big Kids”, once I’m up, I’m up. Someday’s if I am super short on spoons I will catch a cat nap but for the most part, I am on it. Adulting and the like.

**Side note, Adulting is not a “word”! I keep getting the little you can’t spell squiggle under it! What the what?!?!? Adulting is the most apt way to describe what us late 20’s/early 30’s try to do on a daily basis. Some are more successful than others. The ones who are really good earn the title Adult. I am not sure I will ever get that badge. I’m not sure I am sad about that fact. I think my mom might be.

Back to me hiding and napping and pretending the world isn’t really here. So today, I jumped out of bed. I was totally dressed. Shoes on. Phone in hand, Keys in pocket. But I was yelling yelling “Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Fuck! What time is it? I have to go! 9:30 I slept through my first class! Why didn’t anyone call. What in the hell! Noah looked at me and said “You went to work. You came back. You were going to take a nap.
You need to understand, I cannot sleep anywhere ever, You could give me a cloud of feathers and I could toss and turn. There is no perfect setting for me. I have it down to a small science but even it fails me 75% of the time. But today, I fell asleep, in bed, shoes on, keys in hand, phone in pocket, and fully clothed. I don’t remember walking in. I set my alarms, kicked off shoes and crawled in bed.

Right now, life hurts. I see a pain doctor on Friday. I doubt that is going to be a box to check when they ask you where your pain is. The port sight is the root of it all and I am hoping that once that is covered some of the emotional pain will follow suit. I have been taking Xanax like candy which just numbs me. I hate it. But it is the only thing that helps me not to drown in my own stupid self pity. I feel that even Noah is wearing thin. Normally there are others to help. He is alone.  I am a lot to handle “well”, sick is even worse. Mainly because I don’t want to be sick. Although I shouldn’t speak to that. I could just be a royal pain in the ass and he is too kind to say so.
We have been fighting. We do fight. But more than normal. Before you go asking “Who would pick a fight with a sick person?” You need to ask your self “What kind of deranged person would think they could win a fight of logic while on pain killers and anit-depressants?” and then you will realize why I have flowers and he has cookie dough in the refrigerator. (Because I will make them for him when I am not sick if I don’t eat all of it first.

Right now I feel the meds kicking in. I got new colored pencils in the mail. At least I hope they are for me. They said they are from me, but I don’t remember ordering them but that should be a side effect warning on the pain med bottle. May cause random Amazon Purchases make sure all items are returnable.  But off i go, into my cover cave to draw and pain.

But I am going to get some cookie dough first.


De flu

If I called it the flu people would tell me to stay at home and get better. They would not want me around other people. They would be worried that others might catch it too.
But when you have de flu people don’t talk about it. No one would give you a day off work despite the fact that sometimes your emotions can effect your body as much if not more as the flu does.
No one asks why or how you got the flu they just assume you were around someone who gave it to you and they go about trying to see what they can do to help you feel better.
Everyone assumes that something horrible must be happening to trigger de flu and even if that is the case, there is this feeling that at some point you should just have to “tough it up” like my boss says. “You have to do this shit. It has to get done. I don’t want to hear your excuses.” This only makes de flu worse.
Flu goes away with time and a z-pac.
People think de flu goes away when meds are right and we remember to take them. What they don’t know is that those pills are a inflatable life boat. Sometimes it loses air making it harder to stay afloat. The medications help us not drown.
When you come back to work, after having the flu people are forgiving and give you extra time and extension on deadlines.
Most people hide the fact that they have de flu behind anything and everything. They become careful and well placed liars. No one can know the truth. No one can no how often the truth gets you.

I have de flu.

Pain in the a…

area around my right breast. It is ridiculous. After last nights adventure to the ER we were armed with anger and the right information.  Someone had to be held accountable for the crippling pain I have been feeling in my chest.
But today seemed to be worse than last night. Still no answer from the pain clinic (absolutely NO surprise there!). But the BEST line came for the Radiology department who placed my port. They cut into my chest. Tunneled into my muscle tissue. Shoved a foreign object in me. Stretched my skin over the device. And, put a tube through my throat and connected it to my jugular. PLEASE keep in mind, I allowed all of these things to happen. But I allowed them to be done by professionals because I thought that I trusted them to take care of me past just the procedure on my chest.
This is honestly nothing short of abuse. I trusted the people. This was going to be hard and would hurt but that they would make this as easy as possible for me. I trusted them to take care of me. But that didn’t happen.
It started with my platelet transfusions. When the platelets where not going fast enough, instead of getting a pump, they grabbed a large syringe and just started to pull them from the bag and push them through the IV. I got the entire infusion in roughly 10 minuets. I was already beyond anxious, this did not help. I had asked for something for anxiety and I was totally disregarded. I would have been okay if someone would have said “We cannot give you anything yet.” Or anything along those lines.  But I am fairly sure when a patient says they are feeling very anxious the proper response is not “Okay.” I kind of felt like there should have been a “You have fun with that.” that could have followed. Finally I went back and I received medication and was out… for a while. At some point I woke up trying to breath but not to move. I had been partly conscience because I had clearly been crying in pain for a while. My cheeks were wet and the nurse was wiping them away. I felt the pain so much in and a tried to restrain so hard I felt blood vessels pop in my eyes and around my fingers where I grabbed the blanket. I heard voices but nothing audible. I was out again within seconds.
After it was all over I over heard a voice say “Next time they need to fully take you down to surgery to place your port. We never should have done that in this department.” I was not groggy enough to not be scared. I hurt even then. When I asked for something for pain, they said that was not something that Radiology could do. Then they send me home. They had done something they never should have done and then they were not willing to help make it better. They left me black and blue and assumed that I was someone else’s problem now.
They have beat me and left me for…well…for what ever happens. If this had happened anywhere other than a hospital, these doctors would be in jail. They assaulted me. It became assault when they refused to step up and help heal the wound they caused. Is that not part of the Hippocratic Oath? To save and make better a patient life? I’m not asking for a boob job. Just something to help me so I can hold my son before he turns one and starts to wonder why his mum won’t hold him no matter how high he reaches. Why she can wrestle with him on the floor. Why she cannot kiss on his neck and scoop him up and eat his tummy.

I want my life back.


Wburg Day 3/Trip to the ER

So this post is a 2 part post so, hang in there.

The last day of Williamsburg started out…hung over. I was fine. Noah on the other hand did not have the years of practice that I had and was not quite as ready to face the day as I was. At first he wanted to lie about until our evening plans. But around noon he managed to rally and we were off on an adventure in Historic Williamsburg. If either of us had really been history buffs, arts and craft junkies, or founding father groupies, we would have purchased tickets to all of the ins and outs of every historic building on the grounds. But we had purchased tickets to another event for that evening.
It just so happened that the historic theatre would be showing, that evening only, the National Theatre’s production of Amadeus . What are the chances? It was like a mini piece of London had followed us on our mini vacation. It was serendipitous.  It  made my heart smile. I quickly looked up the menus for restaurants in the area and found one that had the meal that was most fitting to our outing. The location, Dog Street Pub. The meal, Fish and Chips with a side of smashed peas. It was even raining. The only thing I was missing was a cup of Pimm’s. This suddenly turned our little mini-vacation along the east coast in to a vicarious trip over seas. As the lights dimmed I almost started to cry.
The production was nothing short of breath taking. It felt like a privilege getting to see such an amazing performance. When the show was over I was full of energy and hope. This overwhelming desire to go work to create art that was even half as powerful as what I had seen came rushing through me. I asked the theatre managers if I could take a look around the theatre. It was so late, but they could not have been more obliging. As they shut down for the evening they explained how the theatre had actually been designed by Rockefeller. The architecture reflected Radio City Music Hall, but on a much smaller scale. It was charming and beautiful. The lobby smelled of popcorn but also had a small scent of cigar from when that was common place in Theatre lobbies. As we were walking out the door, the house manager asked “Would you like the poster? The show was tonight only. We are just going to throw it away.” I don’t know who answered faster. It was the perfect memento from our trip to Williamsburg.
The next day we were ready to come home. We missed Eli and we missed our home. Our trip was nothing short of the adventure we needed with a little bit of excess fun sprinkled on top. I love road trips and I cannot wait for our next one!


Now onto the health front. Not something as pleasant but something that needs to be said. My port is not healing as fast as I was told it would. I have been feeling like a wuss for being in so much pain but last night was the breaking point. I slept maybe 2 hours total out of the 7 I tried to get. Work is also causing more and more stress. I feel like everyday I am being thrown one more hoop to jump through. It is no longer a matter of standing my ground and NOT saying “How high?” when they say “JUMP!”. I can no longer jump and they are getting more and more rude and short tempered. This is not helping any aspect of my healing.
Tonight I cracked and had to go to the ER. Basically, they cannot help me until the people who operated on me look at me first. For what ever reason, the people who operated are doing their best to make me feel like I am the one in the wrong for being in pain. So now, I have my two best people on it. Tomorrow, Noah and Mom are going to fight to make them give me answers and help me with the pain until I am healed. I cannot sit out on bed rest for a week while I get better. But the baseball sized bruise on my chest suggests otherwise. Something has got to give. And it is not going to be me. Not any more.
I am so lucky that I have people who love me and who are willing to fight for me. I have people who are willing to pray for me. People who are texting me words of encouragement. Even just my students who smile at me and tell me “Thank you” for class. I am lucky. I will not let this dark over shadow the amazing light I have in my life. This light will defeat this darkness. I know it will.


Anxiety level 10

This is not a drill.

I joke because it’s the only thing I can do to punch back the tears that are forcing their way into my eyes and now down my cheeks.
I have picked the glue off my incision. Luckily it has healed enough to not do any damage. I am writing to occupy my hands. Words will be misspelled. tough.
I hear my son starting to fuss in the other room and I hold my breath. Please don;t wake up. Mommy can’t do it right now. My can’t hold you. not because i don’t want to but because i actually cannot without physical harm to myself. but i would. i would save you. you have saved me. it would be the least I could do. some how knowing that makes me feel better about my self. I exhale.
Noah has run out to fix my mistake. to help save me in the 12th hour like always. i do not always need saving. but we all need saving sometimes. right?

am i alone?

i hope not. the page is getting harder and harder to see. i’m sorry but all hope of good words has flown away with my breath. my shallow breath. i am trying so hard to breath deep because that is what you should do, right? He fussed again. i have got to breathe more quiet.
I have typed this 5 times now. something about the pattern brings me calm. even if it is only for this moment. Shift, enter then pressing the number with my pointer finger on my left hand. careful. not with a fist. hand lay flat. touching each key like a piano key. the pattern is calm.

noah is home. i know he is not happy. no knight is ever happy after having to fight a battle. but it is done.

and the storm is passing

here i can be honest. here i can be me.


When you want to write

but your boss text you that your new start time is 20 min. before what it use to be.


66 days to go!


Last Day of Williamsburg?

Is what this post should be about, but it’s not.

I have the longest day back since having my port placed and it has really taken it out of me. In addition, I decided to earn some good wife points and sneaked off with Noah to the cinema tonight. I know, I know, we should go support Theatre! It’s our art! It’s our craft! And it’s because it is those things that when I have been at rehearsal for 7 hours that I would like to get away. I love what I do but even the best of us need to lock ourselves in a dark room, with a box of butter covered popcorn, an ICEE, and a loved one and watch a story with a happy ending. Well, at least that’s what Noah likes, and every now and then I am happy to oblige.

All that being said, I am going to leave you with this Beat Poem.

A green jeep. A bumper sticker on the right. In white. It reads
I like Guns
and Jeeps
In the back of the Jeep
Rainbow hula hoops
*snap *snap *snap *snap