It's been ages but...
Quick update for context:
Lance & I are together & happy for over 2 years now :)
Um... I am employed and going to school.
Oh! Reconnected with best friend from middle school, yay!
Er... well, I know there's a bunch of other stuff, but that's not what brought me to lj.
This fucking year has sucked. On my 25th birthday, I got food poisoning and spent 12 hours vomiting. This was the second week of January, mind you, so 2012 just jumped right in full steam with the bullshit. I took something like 2 weeks to recover properly.
February was plagued with stress at work, but otherwise pretty okay. I got some herbs for my first ever garden, and those are looking pretty swell
March was when the bullshit started up again. I began being plagued with ridiculously awful nausea and horrendus acid reflux. I would wake up feeling like someone had poured acid down my throat. This continued for days, so I went to the doctor and got referred to a gastroblahblahwtfologist. I could'nt get an appointment for 3 goddamn weeks.
Also, during this time work got more stressful AND more stupid, and my dad decided to be an asshole, only 2 weeks before Lance & I flew out there to see him. BUT WHATEVER.
Finally, last week of March, only 3 days before the boy and I get on a plane to Washington. I see the doctor, and he mostly listens, talks over me less than other doctors, though he doesn't quite seem to get the gravity of my situation. But we schedule an EGD, which is where they stick a camera down your throat to take pictures... IN THE MIDDLE OF APRIL. So again, waiting three weeks while this nausea and acid crap are just fucking constant. I'm taking apple cider vinegar to compat the acid & it's working, but doing nothing for the nausea. Finally the date rolls aound.
Turns out, I have gastritis, esophagitis, and a hiatal hernia. That's where part of your stomach is above the diaphram, which is apparently a pretty bad deal. Also, he took a biopsy, and the follow up for that isn't until NEXT FRIDAY. So basically, I have been sick and in pain for over 2 months, and I still don't know what my end goal is.
I have been missing so much goddamn work. I swear I call out sick more than I actually work. My leave time was used up back in January for my birthday food poisoning and the week of recovery that followed. I am lucky if I work 15 hours in any one given week. Also have I mentioned that I hate work? It's stressing me the fuck out and I just want to get OUT of there, but I don't know where to go. I'm too sick to be job hunting right now. Who would hire me?
And I KNOW it's stupid, I really do, but that biopsy is worrying me. I am getting WORSE, not better. Haven't spoken to my doctor since he said hello right before I was put under during the procedure, so I don't know what I should be expecting. But I know for sure that I am getting worse.
A couple days ago I went to Lance's friend Michelle's 21st b-day party. I can't drink right now, thanks to my dear darling hernia & the lovely gastritis, but in honor of the occasion, we were all doing shots at midnight. Instead of the rum that was being passed around, I drank Dr. Pepper. Not alchol mixed to taste like soda, but the actual soft drink.
On the drive home, I started feeling a little bit queasy. As soon as we got inside, I ran to the bathroom and threw up a shot-glass-worth of fucking Dr. Pepper.
I'm really scared. I'm scared that they won't understand how devastating this is to me, or that they won't be able to fix it. I'm scared that the biopsy will come back with some kind of horrible news. I'm scared that I'm going to find out next week that it isn't just a hernia and a bunch of itises, it's stomach cancer or something equally awful and probably ridiculous for me to be worrying about. But I can't help it. I'm terrified.
Everyone around me has been really great with the support, and care, and telling me not to worry and to look ont he bright side, etc. But I'm just in so much pain all the time, it's really hard to see the silver lining. I just want to curl up away from everything for a month (everything except my man, that is) and just focus on my physical and mental well-being. But I have a car, and rent, and food, and all those other pesky little bills to pay for, and so I have to make money. And to make money I have to go to work. And when I go to work I make myself ill from stress. And when I am sick from stress, my real sick seems to get worse. And when my real sick gets worse, I miss work. And when I miss work, I stress because I can't fucking afford to pay my regular bills, much less medical ones that will soon be rolling in.
Yes, I know I'm lucky in that I have a car and a roof over my head (even though we live with a friend of his moms who is charging us WAY TOO MUCH for a house that SHE ISN'T PAYING THE MORTGAGE ON, but that's another rant), and that I can even afford to eat. I am aware of all this. And honestly, I really would be very capable of being grateful for all of it if my stomach wasn't FULL OF KNIVES all the time.
Anyway, lj, if that isn't a homecoming rant to end all other homecoming rants, I don't know what is. I honestly had forgotten how theraputic this used to be. My life has been pretty damn good these past few years, and I haven't needed this outlet as badly. I feel like a derp writing "oh yay, my bf is teh awwesums!" all the time. He is, but it doesn't keep me up all night with the need to get my thoughts out of my head and into some kind of space where they will stop trying to suffocate me.
Maybe I'll try this again sometime. For now, I'm hopefully off to sleep, so maybe tomorrow I can actually make it to work in the morning! Keep your fingers crossed for me.