Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Hmm, lots of shit going on around here all of a sudden…which is probably why I’m suffering exaustion at the moment (emotional and physical…which means nothing is getting accomplished).

Mum and I were talking the other day, and she was whining that her Uriologst wasn’t going to tell her anything until January, when all the testing was done, during which, she still had to endure pain and bleeding. I countered with the fact that if anything was seriously wrong, her doctor would get a hold of her before that. She, of course, didn’t believe me.

…until the next morning when the doctor called at the ass crack of dawn to schedule imediate surgery for a cyst on her kidney found during her CAT Scan. *smacks forehead* I do actually know what I’m talking about!

So mum’s on bed rest…which was fun for me, as I have to take care of her. I don’t like playing fetch *pouts* Also throws off me sleeping as she’s up longer then I usually am. I think she discovered how stressed out I am between worring about her and taking care of her, when I burst into tears one day when she asked for dinner (no, I don’t know why I did that, I just did).

Tonight, she leaves for a week in Eugene, to go to her back dr appointment, and have her kidney surgery. It’ll be nice, to get some time to decompress, before starting the stress cycle all over again.

My grandmother is a complete bitch (not that this is news to longtime visitors *grins*). For the past two weeks (er, the past two before last weekend), Mum and I literally destroyed ourselves getting that stupid yard sale going. Our shoulders are STILL hurting from moving shit around. The only reason we did this to ourselves, was Grandmere swore up/down/sidwaise that we would get half of the total take of the sale.

…which was around 600$, quite a nice chunk of change for two people who had an outstanding electric bill and an upcoming holiday to save for.

So the sale’s going great, and Grandmere comes down on the second day to see how things are going…and promptly takes 400$ (what we had at the time) and leaves. Mum asks here later about spltting the money and magically…Grandmere has no idea what mum’s talking about and requests the rest of the money from Day Two.

as;oivjoefoejvj! Bitch!

And then she has the kindness to loan us the money for the electrical bill. Anyone wonder why I hate her? Seriously?

…my fingers hurt, stupid arthritis.

As for the previous post…mum and I talked about it later that night and came to an understanding, though things have only improved slightly. Though mum now understands why I constantly complain of being in pain after she had to spend two days in pain. I told her to try imagining spending weeks or months at a time in that same bed and then imagine the pain and she’d come close to where I am. She said she couldn’t imagine it and can’t understand how I can deal with it day in and day out. I reminded her that if it’s all you know, you learn to deal. *shrugs*

For those on Twitter, I’ve finally gotten into the grove on it, feel free to come see what insanity is my every random thought.

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

So my mother has been harping on me for the past month or so that ‘we’ need to clean out the garage to get ready for the yard sale that will never happen (because the chances of my mother, my grandmother and Debbie speaking to each other at any given time is limited to nill).

Now, I hate the garage, it’s dirty, dusty, filled with cobwebs and other things that are better off buried. But I’m tired of listening to her whine so I start working on it (what happened to ‘we’, lady?), and realize just why I’ve left those boxes, bags and cupboards alone for so long.

The ghosts of the past are not easily laid to rest, and it hurts, quite a bit of the time, to watch pieces of my life fall away.

I’m a pack rat, I save almost everything of the slightest bit of meaning, pictures, postcards, letters, and those things I expected to be emotional about. But the small things…an old collectible card, a HP magazine article…those things hurt just as badly, representing a time in my life that’s over and that I can’t go back to. A part of my life buried in a dusty box, waiting for me to decide if it’s worth keeping.

So, as I’m going through this very painful process of sorting through my past and determining it’s worth…my mother starts whining I have to stop working on the garage and now have to organize the house…because some how everyone thinks it’s appropriate enough to drop things off here for the yard sale (and a bunch of crap we got from Grandmere moving).

And I can’t just stop and work on the house…because if I stop, I won’t start again. It’s so painful to even touch some of these items, let alone think about what they mean.

I just wish she’d give me some time, to finish this very painful journey so I can put it behind me.

…I finally threw away my phlebotomy textbook…I don’t know how I feel about that. Kept the X-mas cards from HPfGU’s though (and for some reason the BTVS collectible cards from Robin…I really should throw those away).

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Apparently, I am no longer as young and agile as I once was and am not allowed to do the butterfly stroke with only my arms anymore…ow, ow, ow. But I know the pain means I did something good by moving my muscles.

Though, it also means I’m not getting as much work done for the yardsale as I had hoped, hurts too much to move. The best I can do today is set up charity donations for after the sale (like I want to keep all this crap around, s’why I’m trying to sale it). I love charity donations to St. Vincent de Paul’s…no more crap for me and it benifits somone else eventually (either via those who buy the cheap products or those who benifit from the proceeds). Funny thing is, some of the knicknacks I’ll probably be donating…came from charity thrift stores. I always check out Goodwill or St. Vinny’s first for cat figurines and disney toys, it’s really a never ending circle.

I just wish I could figure out what to do with my hundreds of Baby-Sitter’s Club books, they’re too ragged to sale or donate, but I don’t want to just trash them, they still have memories for me but I can’t keep them (they’re over flowing the giant trunk they’re stored in.

Hmm, there is a little girl in the block, maybe I’ll ask her mum if she might like them. Not the un-readable ones of course, but that’s still a good 50-100 free books for her daughter.

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

I saw a butterfly up close today for the first time in years.

…I can’t decide if I want to smile or sob over that fact.

Edit to LJ only: I've also discovered I need to feel something more then 'blah', 'blank', 'sleepy', 'cold', 'bored', or 'excited' in my mood themes.

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Okay, seriously, is it that hard to let me order my own damn prints? I put in all the information, splurging a bit (my rent’s getting upped so I’m getting while the getting is good), and after waiting for a weird ass ‘redirecting to page with more secure features’ message…

I get this lovely note:

(yes, that is a connection error image, your browser is not fucking with you).

So now I don’t even know if my order went through! But, I contacted them, so hopefully I’ll know. Sucks, because I probably won’t have the ‘courage’ to order them again and for a full set of 5×7’s of my best images at only $8.50…pretty rocking! *pouts*

And on a more “Real” note (not me bitching…just whining like a baby), mum had another one of her ‘let’s kick Sait out’ moments tonight. This time, she wants to sell the house and move into some sort of mental health ‘assisted living’ place…or something.

She’s tired of never having enough money to pay the bills (between us we make 1800$ a month, our house payment alone is 600$, then we have direct tv, phone, electricity, insurance (house/car), prescripts, food, pet food/supplies, heat (which was shut off), ect, plus loans to Uncle Mike and Grandmere), she’s tired of the house being a disaster because her home healthcare worker is a complete DUMBASS (seriously, ex 1: Mum put a large jar opener that needed to be washed after a year lost in the garage for “Ditzy” (not her real name) to wash…it sat there for three weeks before we got tired of it and washed it ourselves (well, mum did, she she SHOULDEN’T BECAUSE IT’S HEAVY), ex 2, I offered ‘Ditzy’ 60$ this month if she would help me organize my room which was still boxed up and slightly trashed from the room change a month or so ago. She spent two hours sitting there picking the lint off her pants while I worked because she ‘didn’t know where anything went’ (um, duh, that’s why the crap is still in boxes, no one knows where it goes).

Essencially, it’s just a lot of shit piling up at once. And I completely understand where she’s coming from, dude, it’s hard right now, life sucks big time.

But…It’s my home as well. I’m not just a roomate, I’m her fucking daugther (who else would pay 450, now 500$ a month rent for a room and kitchen access?! Plus, without my foodstamps? She ain’t eating.

It’s not just she promised I would never be without a home (which she has, several times, even swearing not to sell this house so I do always have it..but dude, it’s my childhood home! It’s where I grew up!

Plus, emotional issues aside, the house is trashed. The bathtub wall is coming off, it needs to be re-painted, the house stinks from years of smoking and pets who can’t figure out what a literbox is for (don’t even say it, I am doing everything I can, including owning two literboxes, I cannot figure out why Onii finds it repulsive and mus attempt to pee in my room), the front yard is molding (oregon rain + mold loves us), we have a serious ant problem, and there are cracks in the freaking windows (stupid fucking contractor).

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

So thanks to my best friend going to college and constantly barging me with details (and thus making me, un-intentionally of course, feel like a moron and loser), I’ve started to look into online schools again (especially since APU is run by a bunch of fucking morons who can’t figure out changing Malfoy to Moricia-Malfoy means my financial aid would go though no matter how many times I explain it). Due to the limited number of online university programs offering BA’s in History (my original major of choice), so I’ve been looking into Psychology, which is fast becoming another interest (yes, despite my absolute hatred of psychologists, maybe it’s from all the shit I went through, and recently what my mother has). I like helping people, and I think that this might be the best way I can do that.

It’s a slow process though, just trying to gather all the information I need on the colleges. But, here’s hoping!

In other news, I recently (day before yesterday), spent two hours writing a new resume and cover letter…yes I suck that much. But it’s done, and already on it’s way to Neopets, where I’m hoping to get a job as a site monitor. Cross your fingers!

That’s about it…except for an ordeal with Grandmere, but that’s best left for another day.

(why the hell can’t I spell ‘interest’ properly without spellcheck?! I know how it’s spelled, my fingers just keep typing intrest! *bangs head*)

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

I’m never listening to my mother again.  Seriously, next time she tells me which road to take, I’m going the other way.  Even if there isn’t an other way.

Scene: Me (the driver who hates driving large cars, like our shiny new SUV), Mum (le genius).

Mum: I want you to be careful, go slowly, and take old highway 99 (the highway in use before the shiny I-5 freeway) so that you don’t have to deal with other traffic.
Me: Right-o. *grabs keys, kisses mum and heads off to go grocery shopping before heading home*

An hour later…

Me: *happily having a ciggy while listening to George Carlin on my Ipod, watching the dark, dark road when all of a sudden OMGDEER!* Ohhhh shite! *slams on brakes and gets to know my seatbelt up close and personal*
Deer: OMGCar! *dashes*

Deer meet front bumper, front bumper meet deer.

Neck pain, meet vicodin!

OW! Fucking hell it still hurts. And the whole half an hour drive home I was flipping out that I not only damaged our shiny new car…but our insurance lapsed TODAY because we can’t find 70$ for the payment. I get to McDonalds and pull in to get dinner and see how dead I am…

Not a flipping scratch ANYWHERE on the front and side where I hit the deer. And I know I hit the deer, I felt it! Hell, I’m still feeling it.

In other news, Mum was transfered to Rouge River, down south from here by about…two hours. So I can’t visit her again, but I get to talk to her. It’s said to be a good place, so I’m happy with that. And…slightly happy I can’t visit her because things aren’t going well between us. She’s blaming me still, partially, about her depression (because I bitch and moan about being sick…it’s what I do, damnit! I complain and I like complaining!), and in addition to that, she’s still being rather verbally abusive to me, taking out her anger and frustration about things on me, yet whining when I get pissed off (and rightly so I think) about the fact I’m paying her the equivalent of 470$ without seeing a dime returned, even when she all but swears on her life she will pay me back. I know she’s my mum and some things should slide, but…I would kind of like to have a freaking dollar to myself to be able to buy a new book or SOMETHING!

Arg, and speaking of that, she did it AGAIN! I had fifty dollars left over after covering my bills and rent, fifty dollars that I was putting aside for her christmas gift (she wants a new vaccum…and I want to buy her a good one because she always buys them second hand or way too cheap and for once she deserves a decent one since that’s all she wants for Christmas).

Anyway, I’ve been holding that money hostage, even though I’ve been dying for a new book for about six months now (haven’t had one for about a year, but it’s only been recently that I’ve been craving a new one). And what does she do? Ask (more like demand) I use the money to pay our phone bill (and internet), because she can’t fucking figure out why a budget is a good idea, and can’t afford it.

I’m getting so fucking sick of this. I really, really am.

…and my neck hurts! *cries*

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Now that I’m not tripping out on Vicodin and sick to death, I thought I’d ad some things to the previous post…mostly me being weird.

Learning Experiances: I know know what an EKG sounds like when the alarm goes off. I was left alone while hooked up to the machine while waiting for…hell if I can remember, I think I was waiting for the nurse to come in with my anti-nausia pills. Anyway, I discovered if you tap on one of the sensors (for me, it was the one on my upper right shoulder), you can make the lines dance up and down. I spent about five minutes making the lines dance until the alarm went off and mum smacked me (Why no, I haven’t grown-up, why do you ask?)

( Anal penetration information )

Aggrivations moment: Dr. Smith, learn active listening skills, I was doing lamaze breathing to control the pain and hardly paying attention to the two of you and I still saw you tuning out my mother as she was describing a weeks worth of symptoms. In fact, you looked like you were reviewing your grocery list instead of listening to her. Knock it off or next time I’ll puke on you.

Embaressing Moment: Besides the whole event…having to ask to be allowed to go to the bathroom as I was rather trapped in bed. Also bursting into tears when I found out I needed an exam.

All in all, it wasn’t really that bad of a trip to the ER. Low wait time, professional people and no one yelled at me for my panic attack. And now I’m feeling rather shiny, if slightly sore and nausious.

Edit to Add: I was organizing my graphics from the past two years, and got to wondering how many icons I created from images I coloured myself (basically, from a black and white image) so…I counted:

( Coloured )

Turns out…it’s 90 our of 496. Not as many as I thought, but still quite a bit to colour in.

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

Just got back from the hospital.

So, this morning I discovered I was bleeding from a place that one generally should not be bleeding from, and this continues through out the day. All though out, I attempt to get my mother’s attention about it, but the fact does not sink in until six pm when she finally realizes what I’m saying (and by this time, I’m in the bathroom, vomiting.

Mum, being the smart one (and the one not in the bathroom), presses the First Responder Emergancy button, and we wait.

And Wait…and wait…and mum’s cellphone rings.

WTF?!

It’s First Responder, explaining the cannot get through. We get an ambulance to the house.

Saity goes back to puking as the ambulance guy comes in. Saity goes vroom to the hospital. (on the way, it took me about two minutes for my fuzzy head to say my birthday, 1/18/81, I also get stabbed for an IV but it’s pretty much a crap out).

I get examined, nearly puke on the doctor, and then he gives me the great news that I need a rectal exam.

…

….

GAH!

So after a brief panic attack as I had flashback to events ten years ago that are not good things, we proceed.</em>

…I now have more respect for my gay characters then like..ever. Seriously. Especially the virgin ones.

OW!

Good news is, I have hemroids, bad news…no idea what’s causing the un-bearable pain, the nausea/vomiting, nor the fuzzy headedness. So now I have to fight with my GP over beleiving I have these symptoms (which mum has witnessed and told him about), or another trip to the ER when things get trippy again.

My ass hurts, both my wrists hurt (they did a second IV at the hospital) and I still want to puke up my liver. Also, we’ve discovered that if we have a message waiting on our voice mail, our First Responder doesn’t work…yay for planned emergancies?

…How was your day?

Edit: After a bit of rest, and finally reading through the information I recieved at discharge, apparently i also have a severe case of stomach flu and slight dehydration…yay?

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

My mother is currently suffering from a stabbing pain in her side (Upper left). It was so severe we were about to call the parametics…but I kept being delayed from calling because first she had to get dessed (in a matching outfit no less), then she had to find her med list, then she had to eat…

Then suddenly the pain was better! >.>

I’m currently observing her, and constantly carrying my First Responder pendant, so that help is just a button press away.

Oh yeah, that’s another thing, apparently my illness’ are so bad, I now have a First Responder unit (much like Life Alert, Life Line, the ‘I’ve fallen and can’t get up’ units). I’m twenty-seven…and I get to now wear a pendant that my grandmother wears…yay!