Thursday, February 25, 2016

Poop Diaries

I sit here thinking about all the things that have compiled to this very moment.

We forget about all of the things that have become second nature to us. Like breathing, walking, talking, using the bathroom, etc, these things become trivial things until it's no longer a thing we can do alone or with out duress.

Sitting up has been my most painful feat, minus the attempts to number 2 all day.

If I push will the stitches rip and all my insides come tumbling down like Jack and Jill, and their precious water.
Then what.
I have to explain my tears and tears are from trying to shit.

This is less than an ideal situation.

I could approach it like I just need to play 57 games of Sudoku; that putting my mind to an ultimate mind-numbing activity will coerce my body to oblige with my every wish.

Or

I could use the Ole birthing techniques; inhale, exhale and push. That would surely end in my pulling something that I could not simply push back into place. 

No, no it must be a mixture of both.
A distraction from my own pain companied by my own infliction and limitations.

Wish me luck.

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Snipped, Glued, Stitched.. All better, Right?

Well turns out I didn't die on Monday, so that's dope.
And the Tubes are gone, yo!

We arrived at the hospital at 4:45 for my 5 am check-in.
I had slept maybe an hour and a half, which is a big deal.

I had finally entered my room
I, of course, managed to get the gown that doesn't tie in the back because the string has been cut.
I try to get away with wearing my underwear and sports bra.
The nurse just shakes her head at me.

Naked it is. The gown barely covers anything.  I did shave my legs for the occasion.
I put the hospital socks on, which is out of my norm.  I don't like wearing socks, when I am naked.

I get all hooked up the the IV and the nurse tells me the anesthesiologist,  Dr. Stark was coming.

I immediately asked..
..... Tony?
The nurse said that she was a woman, and that she didn't know if her husband's name was Tony.

Poor, stupid, beautiful nurse.

Let's just say she could have been Tony Stark's wife.  She was gorgeous.

At 7:03, I entered the surgery room.

I woke up at 9:30 in my room for the night.  I was hooked up to an IV, breathing machine, pulse checker, catheter, and some things around my calves to make them move so I wouldn't develop blood clots in my legs.

I don't remember a whole lot from that day, but apparently I said some funny things.  My parent's made a list.  And took pictures.
When my brother arrived they took this one.
Apparently this is what I look like when I am sick. 

The breathing tube was weird, apparently the nose-like part on it measured my CO2 and if I took it off then the machine would beep uncontrollably, and then I would be yelled at by one of the nurses on the staff to keep the tube in.

I probably begged the nurse 87 times to take out my catheter; mixing it up how to ask her every time she came back in.
"Hey will you get me some ice chips, and oh, and take this catheter out"
or 
"What does this button do, and oh the catheter, take it out." 

That thing is the bloody devil, and I hate it. 

My brother and my older sister came to see me.  I remember more when my older sister was there.
She brought me flowers and made me watch the bachelor.  It was torture of the purest, kindest form.

I, also, received flowers from the nicest man on earth whom I can only predict will be the future Mr. to my Yard.  That poor, beautiful man will end up with me on his doorstep with a backpack, and two, one-way tickets to nowhere.  

I didn't sleep worth a damn in the hospital. No one does. 
From being so high on morphine, and the every hour wake-ups, and shots in my stomach from the nightly Nurse Gay, The night was full of misery and business, to say the least. 

I just needed to get the hell out of there.

I finally left around 6 PM yesterday.  I slept like a baby, when I got home. 

I have felt utterly useless today though, and even more, so as I sit here watching my mother fold my laundry.  She is a saint, that I know for sure. 

It feel like the incision it not as big as I had thought.  She did cut through my tattoo, which I knew would happen, but it definitely went from a beautiful quote from my favorite book, to a Rihanna Lyric. 

Graphic Picture. My Bad,

I am not going to be ashamed of my scars.  

I will just tell people I got stabbed saving kittens. Everyone loves a good stabbing by saving kittens story.

Now, I just need to learn how to get up, go to the bathroom, cough, lay back down, walk, and sit without being in pain.

Seems easy enough. 


Sunday, February 21, 2016

If I Die Tomorrow

I had a dream a few nights that I died on the surgery table.  Like, in the aspects of I didn't wake up. Nothing gory. 


Naturally, I was freaked out by this because I have extremely vivid dreams.


I went to work after, and thought about it a little. I am not really worried about dying to be honest.  I have lived a good life.


I am not trying to come across morbid, or anything. Everyone dies eventually some sooner rather than others, but I wanted to just let everyone my wishes.


First and foremost, I want to be cremated. 
But not in the way you would think.  I want to do it like the Vikings.  I want a Norse Funeral.
I don't want to be covered in stones after to create a tumulus.
Just a boat, some flaming arrows, and a river.


I'd prefer the lake near my home. Lake Arcadia.


Then scattered.  I want to have at least 3/4 cup of my  remains in each on of my Ex-Boyfriends' yard.
Minus that one that posts pictures of Luis Vuitton things all over his Instagram, that guy isn't getting any of these remains in life and in death..


And each one of my siblings, must have enough to put in a rice necklace and wear it.
EVERYDAY.
That way I remain in their hearts and on their neck.


The rest.. I don't really care. Fertilize a tree or something.


Next thing. I have already told my best friend in the world this... Naturally I was pretty turnip when I said it (drunk), but I totally meant it.


I told him that people that I have had to try to put in my life that have not been there for me, that have blown me off, that I knew from high school that were mean to me, or even my bullies now are not allowed at my Party of Life Fiesta. Nor are allowed to post pictures of us together saying that
Jesus got another good one, or claim they miss me.
That's not what you said when I asked you to go see a movie with me.


You aren't invited to my life party.
You can't act like you are going to miss someone when during there life you didn't even give them the time of day when they were alive.


I have a list.
You are welcome.
And if you show up and you are on the list, I'll haunt the shit out of you.
Some paranormal activity, crazy, you better move out stuff, spiders in your hair.
I am petty like that.


I also want my dog to get all my stuff.
Bed, clothes, and my car; Laney-bug is going to be poppin.


I don't have any doubt that I won't be fine and that dreams are silly
because my sister's cat is not going to grow life size and chase me around a field, even though he is terrifying.


Dreams aren't real, except that one that I had about that one guy...that, that was very real.


Anything could happen.
But I am so thankful of my life.
And the people in it.


There are so many things I want to do with my life. I want to take a road trip to Mount Rushmore. I want to swim with otters, but only three of them because I feel like more than that would just be stupid. I want to go to a play.  I want to fly in a helicopter. I want to drive to California and touch the ocean again.


I am very nervous.
But.
I am okay.
I got this.


I really wish I could have a beer right now.

Thursday, February 18, 2016

T-Minus 4 Days Until The Extraction

I am not going to lie.


I have started to seriously panic about this whole surgery ordeal.



It helps, that I am moderately hung over today, which means I slept like a baby last night.




What doesn't help is that I think I had a conversation with someone last night, and I don't remember if it actually happened.

If it did happen..I think I might have either some explaining to do..

or....act like it never happened.



The disadvantages of having realistic dreams.



I think I am going to go with option 2.



Well I am just in this point  now that I am worried about my body image, the healing process, and how many things that I am going to be missing out on, or things that will completely disappear from my life because of this.



By that I mean, humans, obviously.



I am doing this 5-Miles a day thing before I can't work out anymore.
I am hoping that it will make me so fit that, I will be distracted from the giant smiley-face stitching on my stomach.
I have been discussing getting a tattoo put over top of the gnarly scar such as a life like depiction of my mom peeking over my panty-line to fend off intruders.




I am a little worried about school, more so than usual.
I know it's only a week out, but being as anal-retentive about trivial things as I am....We are lucky if I don't try to do school work as soon as I wake up in the hospital.
I hope every one in my groups are ready for me to blow.their.shit.up.




If I am not smart or don't get that proving piece of paper, then what else am I?

I am not a super model.
I am instrumentally-challenged.
I am a terrible public speaker.
I am dyslexic.



I need that piece of paper, yo.


I did my acceptance to graduation letter.

They did let me know that I better keep my GPA up or I'm out...In BRIGHT RED letters.  Thanks Graduation office.  Thanks for reminding me that I use to do really shitty in school.



Now I just have to say focused on the good things, like being able to draw, and having olive skin in the dead of winter.  Not the negative things like losing my awesome butt, and potentially having to get a tattoo of my mom peeking over my panty-line.


At least I'll never be on Maury for finding out who my baby's daddy is. 


See, things are already looking up.









Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Me vs. The Night

One of my biggest issues I have had so far is sleeping.  When the night comes I can't seem to shut my brain off.
Normally if I drink; I will sleep very good.
It's easy to fall asleep after 5 beers, and roughly 3 shots of tequila, and/or Fireball.

But, that makes me a text book alcoholic, so naturally I keep it to only 2 to 3 times a week.
One is not an alcoholic, unless you mix vodka in your Fruity Pebbles...

By the way I wouldn't recommend it.
It doesn't taste good.
It was only one time.
Chill.


Well tonight is not one of those nights that I drank because it is 2:13 in the morning, and I am wide awake.
I think I am low-key freaking out about this surgery next week.
I know, I know it has to happen.
And I know I am in pain all the time.
And I know this could be the solution to all my problems.
It has to be.


My mind is always traveling 600 miles a minute.
I enjoy a good company to help me forget. 
But at night,  I am alone in my own thoughts.


I have straightened my hair, showered, took a bath, shaved my legs (everyone is welcome for that), painted my nails, attempted to cuddle Lane who is still not about that life, and have made a playlist of my favorite songs from 7th grade.
I have ran out of activities to occupy my time.


At the moment I am listening to the song Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis
I love this song, but the words will hit home if you are a female, approx. 20-29, who is single, or taken. But mostly single.
Take a listen; it's great.
Super messed up, but still a great song.

Anyways,  I have been searching all night to turn my brain off.
I tried turning everything off such as my phone, Netflix, Pandora, and YouTube. 
Yes, those were all on at the same time.
I drink to fall asleep, I obviously watch TV and listen to music at the same time.
The subtitles are on too.
Yes I am very good at multi-tasking.


The distractions work, sometimes.
But the sleeping is awful.

During the day is sluggish.
I still have to work, go to school, and go to the gym.
I wish I could go to the gym right now.
I have been watching one too many New Detective shows to leave my bedroom, let alone the house.
I ain't trying to be tooken.


Dang, Blogger was all types of pissed with me trying to write "tooken".  It autocorrected it 5 times before, I had to force it to commit to me.
Story of my life.


Okay I know I have been joking a lot about being worried about having a boyfriend, or something like that.  I am not worried about it in all honesty.  I like where I am at.  It's not complicated. It's fun. It's honest. I am all good.
Good things to come to those who out last the other guy at the bar.

I learned that from my folks.

My parent's story is the cutest thing in the world, and also hands down the biggest exception to the rule of relationships.
They might as well have met on Tinder and I might have believed that over this story, so obviously I have to tell it. 


So one night at the Black Cat, (I am pretty sure that is the name of the bar; it doesn't exist anymore, so it's a bit disappointing) my dad was up there and for this story to work so was my mom.  
Some random guy was buying my mom drinks, and luckily my dad was friends with the bartender, so he was giving to her for free. 
Well the other bloke end up running out of funds, and left.  
My dad and mom ended up hitting it off. 
I am pretty sure the next day my dad left for spring break with 5 of my mom's sorority sisters.
This was in March.

Well my mom's roommate/best friend told her that my dad was not the commitment kind of guy, so not to expect too much. 
So my mom never called him.  
He always had to make the effort to see her.

In June, My dad kind of proposed to my mom. 
Actually, he handed her a ring pamphlet asking her what she thought.
They joke to this day that the marriage isn't real because he never really asked.

They planned everything out and got married January 31st.  
My dad immediately had to leave to go to his first assignment in Nebraska, and my mom had to finish her Masters Degree. 
The first year they were married they saw each other 3 times, just the holidays. 

They have been married for 29 years this year.

I don't know about you but that's the cutest love story ever.  And man, do they love each other.
They my not always like each other, but they sure love each other.


You are welcome for that feel good story.


I am going to try to get some sleep.  If I am not asleep by 3:30, then I may or may not have to just have to go start drinking Bloody Mary's early.


I swear I am not an alcohol.

Saturday, February 13, 2016

How to Date, By: A Person Who Doesn't Know How

In honor of the eve of my least favorite "holidays", I would to address my inability to "understand" "dating".
I have previously stated that I am chronic bad dater.  This is a fact.
I am very confused on the mannerisms of females and how they get guys to take them to the next level from stay the night to keep a toothbrush at there living quarters.


I can say I am pretty solid at first dates.


That being said, I could talk to the wall for 2 hours; let's be real.


I will ask you questions about yourself, such as your interest, your top 50 "favorites" of things, and tell me an interesting story. I am there because I am interested in you.  I try not to study your Facebook profile before the date.  Because God knows, I'll know your mom's name, sister's birthday, and what you got your ex Sarah from three years ago on her birthday, which is March 13th, all before you pick me up. 


I am going to be nice to the server/bartender because I've been there, and you have more than likely been there. That being said, I will walk home from our date if you are mean to the person who is serving us.  That just means you are a mean person and I probably hate you already.


I am myself. Do not. Do not expect me to get a salad as my whole meal unless I am feeling on some leafy green.  I am not modest with food.  That being said, DO NOT take me to get wings as a date until like date, at least, four.  I will suck the bone dry, bro.  No one needs to see that. I will be covered in sauce, and I will more than likely tuck in one of my 38 napkins into my shirt to spare the saucy goodness from leaving stains on my white shirt.


I am good at being myself, which is hard for the first date.  Mostly because I will have a glass of whiskey before we get to where we are going.


That being said I have run into issues that I have no idea how to fix. 
How do I take it to the next level.
What if I am feeling it more than the other person. 
That's the biggest factors because the guys I want to date are the ones that don't want a girlfriend.


When I like someone 9 times out of 10 they are way more attractive than me.  At least to me they are in my opinion so I get weirdly self-conscious that I am going to be out like last years iPhone, or the term wonder-wench.
*wonder-wench means sweetheart. 
I am going to bring it back


I might be clingy, if I like someone I want to talk to them all the time, or like hang out with them.  I feel that is the point of it.  When I really like someone,  I feel more of a burden rather than invited.  I think that has to do with my inability to read men, or that I rapid fire sent 40 emojis depicting the song "Get Low" by Lil Jon and the Eastside Boys.


I am an overly blunt person.  I can't play hard to get.  This was an issue in my last long term relationship.  He said I was "too available".  I am not good at saying no to something I want to do it because they need to "miss me" in order to want to be with me.  I say what I feel, when I feel it.
I don't expect guys to read me and know what I am feeling when I say I am fine and I am not.
So I don't like to be expected to act like I don't give a shit, when I clearly do.


I have asked a few of my guy friends the question
What makes you want to take the "relationship" from talking to girlfriend.
The most common answer has been, after good conversation and physical attributes, was
If she hasn't slept with my friends.


That was the most common answer. 
Then what.


I think I am pretty awesome. I am relatively confident. I can laugh at myself. I can be myself. Joke with you. I am very educated; in the three S's (streets, sheets, and school).
I have an at least 6.7 face, and an 8 butt.  I tell corny pick-up lines and make unfiltered comments. I like taking my guy on dates. I like to do thoughtful stuff to let you know I am thinking about you.
But....
What is comes down to is:
 Are you better than the other girl they have potential with?
Do they see you as their wife one day?
Do they actually want a relationship, with you.


Some people will say, I don't want a relationship, or I am not in a place that I want a relationship, translation this means in a nice way, I still want the ability to sleep with other people if I want to, OR I do not see myself married to you and I don't want to waste my time.


I get it. We are young. You want to date around see other people, "around the world in 80 days" this.  I really do get it.


I worry that the person I will want to be with, will never see me as a person they want to settle down with.


I don't know how to do this. 
I am worried I will end up traveling the world alone when all I want to do is take pictures all over the world eating GoGurt
Not, because it's the best yogurt but, it's travel ready and so am I.

Thursday, February 11, 2016

Sweating in Church

So yesterday was Ash Wednesday.

Okay, before I get started, I must explain a little about myself.
I grew up in a Catholic family.
I, even, taught religious education.
We were hoping it was going to give me some guidance.

I attend as often anymore.
It's not that, I don't believe in something bigger than me, or I think that organized religion is a crock of shit.  I just have too many questions, and growing up in the Catholic religion; asking questions was not exactly acceptable.

If I go to church now a days, it is to please my mother.  She is super religious, and if it makes her happy, I am there.
So as my parents relatively go every weekend, I go on Jesus' Birthday, Mother's day, Easter, and that's about it.
The longest services, naturally.
I have no particular interest in the priests at the church I attend, I mean they are stand up dudes but, their english is not so great, and for someone who has to watch movies with subtitles, we can see my struggles.

I didn't realize until we pulled up that, I had a hole in my shirt right over my boob exposing my red sports bra.
Yeah I am surprised I didn't catch fire when I walked in yesterday.
I like to keep it as classy as possible.

At the service, I was sitting there in my own thoughts like I normally do. I try not to sing because it's very similar to a dying cat, so I like to spare myself from as much judgement as possible.
I make eye contact with the alter boy who looks to be about 16.
I weirdly look at him because, he looks identical to the guy I have been seeing, so I try to keep my thoughts as Christ-like as possible.

After the singing, the standing, the kneeling, (sounds like a Weird Al Version of a Jack Johnson song) We get to the gospel, like I said earlier, the english...not so good.
So I try and listen as hard as possible,  they mention something about hypocrites and the synagogs, and the praying in your room.
I could relate.
When I pray,  I talk to God like he is my homie, I'm like...
Sup God, It's Kelsey again.  Thank you again for not listening to my prayers back when I wanted to marry that drug-dealer.   But I was just seeing what's up, and if like you were having a good day but I seriously need a favor..

Well we then go up for Ashes.
After this goes down, and I am back at my seat; I am in my own thoughts again.
As I am thinking there, I look up and there is this little baby, probably about 6 months old (that age could be completely off; I have no perception of age), and she is cute.
And I don't normally think babies are super cute that early, but this one was different.
She was wearing a red shirt with a heart on it, and a red Gerbera daisy in her hair.
She looked dead in my eyes, and I looked into hers.
She turned her head when her mother, who was stunning, kept walking by.
It's like she stole a part of my soul.

I swear, I do not have baby fever.  I do not want a baby right now.  I am not trying to trick some dude into getting me pregnant.
(That last one is funny...Because you know....it's impossible...)

But, I think something takes you over, and you start recognizing things more when something is called to your attention, or if you are looking for it.
For example: A red car.  You notice more red cars if you are looking for them.

I think you get the picture.

This baby looked at me, and I looked at her, and I realized that I might never have that situation happen to me, you know carrying my midget person that has like half my DNA at church up to get ashes.
 really don't ever worry about babies in my every day life, and when I do I write about it.

I straight up ugly cried in church.

No single tears, I mean it was quiet, but I sobbed with a lot of very visible tears.  It was awful.
I couldn't stop.
So at this point I am wearing a shirt that is  too large on me with a hole in it exposing my bra, and I am sobbing.
As a whole, I looked like a needed more Jesus, then the service was offering.

I guess it could have been worse, I normally fall asleep in church, so I guess I am moving up in the world.

Pray for me.


Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Can I love Something Other Than Myself.

So I have always wondered if I wanted children.

The idea of like sticky children walking around crying and yelling and destroying things.  It really freaks me out. Like why are they always that sticky. 
I was a nanny once and I realized I could not handle having 3 children.  I would end up drinking as much as their stay-at-home mom did. 
Don't worry I think they had an intervention for her and she is in rehab...
I have always seen myself, even a few years ago, adopting children.  At least one.  
I'm not sure why I just have.

I know what I am about to say is not the same thing at all; I get it. 
You don't have to tell me.
But May 25th of 2014, the greatest joy I have ever known was born.  Lane.
My girlfriend from Tulsa posted these pictures of this little baby thing, and I knew I had to have her.  

I was out drinking every night, and I was definitely in the craziest point in my life.
I had like blonde hair, bleach blonde hair.  And going through the worst break up of my life.

I am doing good now, but I was pretty psycho for a cool minute, not like burn our old place down psycho, but like raging alcoholic psycho. And I cut all my hair off.  It's fine. 

Anyways, I contacted my girlfriend from Tulsa, and told her that I had to have her.  
Baby Lane 
So she was mine.  I changed a lot because of her.  I had to like step up and not go out anymore and take care of my girl.  I wanted to like call her and check on her.  My parents were helpful when I had to work and stuff, but dude she was super cool.

I like her.

In a sense, she saved me.  I was on a path of destruction and she saved my liver from more scarring that I already have.
(That's a fact; my liver has scarring....That's a whole other story) 

But my point of this is that I didn't think, or know if I could love something like it was mine when I didn't have it. 
If that makes sense. 

But I could.  
I love her like she came from my loins. 
Yeah.. Loins. 

She sleeps with me every night. We hang out.  She barks when she hears something, so naturally I always feel safe.  I mean she isn't going to protect me because she is terrified, but I will get a pre-warning to, like, get strapped before things are about to pop off. 

I definitely think adoption is like a top consideration, if I decide to have children. 


Big Lane and Mommy. 
Or I'll just have 37 dogs.

Both are very plausible.





Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Let's Get It On (On With it Remix)

I am back to feeling like myself again.


A little obnoxious,  kind of outspoken, and extremely awkward.


I still need to take a real shower, but one thing at a time.


So GUESSS WHATTTTTT......


I  have a surgery date.


T, The real MVP Nurse calls; her causal tone is always very comforting
"Kels? Pen that 22nd date in we are good to go."


February 22nd, 2016.


19 days.


I am so ready.  I will be able to get ahead with all my classes, and be able to focus on not ripping out my catheter out.


I have never had one before. I am interested to see if I can feel myself going or it's just like oh surprise, you're going.


Yes catheter means what we feared, I'll have to at least stay in the torture chamber overnight. I'm not a fan at staying overnight in the hospital.
It smells weird. 
You end up with like 48 blankets that were once warm on top of you. 
You always get this sniffle, cold thing when you leave that last for 24 hours because everyone in that place is swarming with germs.
The whole thing ends up being a mess. 
And we already know I do super terrible on medications from the doctors.


It's cool, I am excited to get this done.
I am ready to start healing.
But, after today I know that I can seriously get through this and be better for it.

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Well That Could Have Been Bad.

Well turns out that medicine was way worse than I thought.

So I quit taking that medicine for my nerve pain on Friday.

On Sunday night I had a slight cough and took the proper dosage of cough medicine and went to bed.

When I woke up Monday morning something was very, very wrong.
I wanted out of my own skin.
I need to get out of my own body.
I was purging stomach bile.
I was trembling.
I was losing my balance.
I was seeing double.

I stumbled down to my mother's bathroom.  I sat on her bathtub counter.   I looked at her and tried to say
"Something isn't right"
It came out in a stuttered mess.
I began to cry.

She stopped what she was doing and held me.

Something is very, very wrong.
I couldn't even tell her what was going through my head.

There were no colors in my eyes, only blackness.



(I debated putting this up. But I am. I have shared this with the people I trust most, but this needs to be known. My father took this picture to show the doctor.)


I needed to calm down.

My dad and mom laid me down on their bed.  I was so lost.
Once I calmed down enough to speak so they could understand me.

My dad emailed my professors, and put a bunch of blankets on me.
We called my digestive doctors's office.  They were less than helpful.
We finally made our way to see a doctor.

Finally we were told that their was
"an adverse effect of the combination of medicines" and that I was "going through withdrawals" of this awful, awful medicine.

Ironically enough, it was the first time I didn't feel abdominal pain.



I am still going through some of the withdrawals.
Still very shaky, anxious, uncertain, sweaty, panicky.


It has to run its course.
It's better right now.


I am hopeful that this feeling will leave me alone soon.


I wasn't kidding when I said listen to your body. 
This medicine might work for some people, but I was not one of them.
I have never been so fearful in my life. 
I really didn't know if my body could have handled all of those "drugs".


I joked earlier about being a terrible drug addict.  But who would be?


I share this because you need to be aware of what you put in your body.  I was na├»ve enough to think that if the doctor gave it to me; it must be safe.  That is not always the case.  I hate to say that, but it isn't.  I am lucky that this combination didn't kill me.
Never Again.