going to require surgery, I'm sure of it now
My butt makes crescent shaped prints when I blot. Blood continues to flow like a stab wound when I strain. It hurts and causes extreme muscle cramping. It's disabling, exhausting, and I'm dead certain it's not going to go away on it's own. A professional needs to slice and dice that flesh and stitch it up proper and tidy. I pray I get a professional.... Oh well, it's hard to screw this up and I'm good at self care. Mostly I'm praying a: they knock me out and b: they do it in one day and send me home for the night. Even if I'm kept overnight, though, that's not too horrible. Dan could manage the house 24 hours and I'd just miss my dog. I probably wouldn't lie awake all night, though, the drugs they'd used would knock me down. Oh it's just no use picturing it that much, I get scared remembering how awful it all feels to be operated on.
So I told Dan to plan a day soon to take me into the ER in the morning, and that he'd have to stay with me till they tended to me, and it's likely all day or till evening. I also suggested that a weekday morning would be the best time to try.
Talking about it is working me up.
So in other ways my health is improving. I think I did also have a parasite infection. Not the cause of my grief so much as an outcome. The improved focus on alkaline foods and fiber loads and smaller portions has helped with the bloating and backups. I'm not as taut in the belly or uncomfortable. I'm also being much more restrained about straining. So with the better diet, the waste is more flexible and gentle, but it's still only allowing very small amounts past and I'm pretty sure there's still something stuck up there from before. I worry about how much damage it's doing to the walls just sitting there for however long and will it soften up and is it breaking up? ~sigh~ I miss being squeamish about this stuff.
The horror. Oh the horror will never leave my memory. And there's more to come.
whew. And my friend Tom has the flu and is whiney af. Sort of. He's gone quiet, I think he's keeping his whining to facebook where he's got the right audience for it. I expressed some caring but I'm sure nothing short of getting over my illness instantly and going over to do for him what he hasn't done for me while I"ve been sick would satisfy.... We'll see. I'm just keeping quiet, knowing my sick trumps his, hoping he gets over his cold and his angst, with the return of the sun. I worry my skinny face is ugly to him now, so, well, I've learned they don't see what is, they see what they want to see. They don't hear what is, they hear what they want to hear. It's not in my control. I can be whatever person I choose, try as hard as I like to be a good person and show kindness or respect or compassion, or whatever other virtue I'm trying to practice, and they'll still what they want to see, hear what they want to hear.
At the end of the day, though, you are your own Judge. You are the watcher of your own gates. Do you deserve heaven or hell? Are you in purgatory, waiting to do a proper self assessment but too afraid to face the truth? There is nobody else who can judge you, because they saw what they wanted to see, not what was. They heard what they wanted to hear, not what you said.
I often wonder if there's a way to stop talking without having my rights abrogated and my freedoms taken away by mental health professionals. And how would I navigate those things that require data transmission? We transmit by language. It's a tedious and inefficient system but people do it natively and don't like having to do it another way. Still, so little of what there is to discuss has a point. Nobody seems to want to learn, or trust any source outside of accredited colleges. They just want to tell empty stories of anecdotes that I rarely can follow. When I do, there is no point, it's just a moment that happened and I have NO idea why it was told, except to relive the emotional effect of it.
I dunno. I don't get conversation anymore. I don't have it either. It's become a strange foreign thing but somehow when I'm around people I still go off like a little professor telling interesting tech trivia that kills the conversation. Kills it dead. I was in Oculus social alpha, an excellent forum for someone like me to practice convo skills, and noticed that nobody else would talk as if they were looking to me as a group leader and I was supposed to facilitate and encourage talk. I'd love to have that skill, I really would. I keep trying. I tried asking questions and responding and somehow still didn't get it right. They were still pretty mum. I asked where they were from, what the weather was there, volunteered same about myself. I dunno. I find it mysterious how humans decide when and where to do what talking and about what or why. I realize it's something I'm doing in my talking, but they're often so damn quiet around me I can't get them going. So Im starting to encourage myself to fall silent more and see, but I don't know how to listen politely without either drifting off or formulating a verbal response.
Lets face it, most humans aren't that interesting. You know this, it's not insultive, it's factual. Oscar Wilde once suggested that "the height of etiquette is to yawn with your mouth closed." I learned to do just that long before I got the joke. You can see the nostrils flare a bit on someone doing that.
So I told Dan to plan a day soon to take me into the ER in the morning, and that he'd have to stay with me till they tended to me, and it's likely all day or till evening. I also suggested that a weekday morning would be the best time to try.
Talking about it is working me up.
So in other ways my health is improving. I think I did also have a parasite infection. Not the cause of my grief so much as an outcome. The improved focus on alkaline foods and fiber loads and smaller portions has helped with the bloating and backups. I'm not as taut in the belly or uncomfortable. I'm also being much more restrained about straining. So with the better diet, the waste is more flexible and gentle, but it's still only allowing very small amounts past and I'm pretty sure there's still something stuck up there from before. I worry about how much damage it's doing to the walls just sitting there for however long and will it soften up and is it breaking up? ~sigh~ I miss being squeamish about this stuff.
The horror. Oh the horror will never leave my memory. And there's more to come.
whew. And my friend Tom has the flu and is whiney af. Sort of. He's gone quiet, I think he's keeping his whining to facebook where he's got the right audience for it. I expressed some caring but I'm sure nothing short of getting over my illness instantly and going over to do for him what he hasn't done for me while I"ve been sick would satisfy.... We'll see. I'm just keeping quiet, knowing my sick trumps his, hoping he gets over his cold and his angst, with the return of the sun. I worry my skinny face is ugly to him now, so, well, I've learned they don't see what is, they see what they want to see. They don't hear what is, they hear what they want to hear. It's not in my control. I can be whatever person I choose, try as hard as I like to be a good person and show kindness or respect or compassion, or whatever other virtue I'm trying to practice, and they'll still what they want to see, hear what they want to hear.
At the end of the day, though, you are your own Judge. You are the watcher of your own gates. Do you deserve heaven or hell? Are you in purgatory, waiting to do a proper self assessment but too afraid to face the truth? There is nobody else who can judge you, because they saw what they wanted to see, not what was. They heard what they wanted to hear, not what you said.
I often wonder if there's a way to stop talking without having my rights abrogated and my freedoms taken away by mental health professionals. And how would I navigate those things that require data transmission? We transmit by language. It's a tedious and inefficient system but people do it natively and don't like having to do it another way. Still, so little of what there is to discuss has a point. Nobody seems to want to learn, or trust any source outside of accredited colleges. They just want to tell empty stories of anecdotes that I rarely can follow. When I do, there is no point, it's just a moment that happened and I have NO idea why it was told, except to relive the emotional effect of it.
I dunno. I don't get conversation anymore. I don't have it either. It's become a strange foreign thing but somehow when I'm around people I still go off like a little professor telling interesting tech trivia that kills the conversation. Kills it dead. I was in Oculus social alpha, an excellent forum for someone like me to practice convo skills, and noticed that nobody else would talk as if they were looking to me as a group leader and I was supposed to facilitate and encourage talk. I'd love to have that skill, I really would. I keep trying. I tried asking questions and responding and somehow still didn't get it right. They were still pretty mum. I asked where they were from, what the weather was there, volunteered same about myself. I dunno. I find it mysterious how humans decide when and where to do what talking and about what or why. I realize it's something I'm doing in my talking, but they're often so damn quiet around me I can't get them going. So Im starting to encourage myself to fall silent more and see, but I don't know how to listen politely without either drifting off or formulating a verbal response.
Lets face it, most humans aren't that interesting. You know this, it's not insultive, it's factual. Oscar Wilde once suggested that "the height of etiquette is to yawn with your mouth closed." I learned to do just that long before I got the joke. You can see the nostrils flare a bit on someone doing that.