Which I am…I got sick. The hideous headaches from hell and let’s throw up, too. Water, 7-up, anything. Now i have a fair amount of fix-me-ups at home, as does anyone who had chronic illnesses. I have pills, I have hiney pills that work for my head or for puking. I have calm down pills. I have several injectables that set my hair on fire and one that literally takes my breath away.
So I play Chloe, Medicine Woman and try to figure out what set me off (an exercise in futility) and what I can do to short circuit myself.
Precious fucking little.
So I’ve been on the liquid and puke diet for five weeks and five days and one thing I can tell you is that this Irish peasant is not wired for starvation. Seriously, if there is a famine, people will probably eat ME. I have lost some weight…40 pounds. Since I’m mainly at home in my stay at home get up, I haven’ t noticed it so much but I went to the market to day in my old, formerly snug jeans.
A) I looked like I had clown pants on and
B)the clown was not me.
So there is going to be some merciless purging of the closet. I’m taking my winter things over to the hotel to store so I can actually see what it is that I have.
So I’ve been in and out of the hospital over this dehydration thing…I am usually very picky about the placement of my IV lines and now I am so sick, I don’t care. So I’m spend my hospital and ER time hooked up to fluids and Diladid. (That stuff is for people who are dying. In the IV, it is seriously serious pain relief.)
Or I’m at my clinic, hooked up to three bags of saline and my regular shots, just not in my hiney. Evidently I looked as sick as I really was, since I was in a room with the door being flung open every five minutes.
So today, I FELT GREAT. I felt like myself, only without a headache. A whole 24 hours. And then I started scratching a hole in my stomach where it is so hot. When I was in college, I scratched a hole into the skin of my hand down to the bone. I still have the scar. So I discovered I have tried to dig a hole to my sore liver. There is a reason why your liver is stuck under your stomach, intestines and rib cage. It is to keep you from digging it out. I feel just like that guy in mythology who was having his guts eaten by wolves for time and all eternity. It HURTS. And I don’t remember what he did, but that was some pretty unhappy curse tossed his way, since I am getting the guts gnawed by ravenous animals crossed with a red hot soldering joint right under my sternum with a side of mule kick.
So I get the galloping draft horse hoof in my sore head…honestly, sometimes I have to check to make sure it really isn’t shattered. Take a pill. Take this, Try that. Get eight ounces of papaya juice into me. Drag out the ice wraps because my head is in flames. Think maybe I’d like to eat something but everything, including ice smells so medicinal and tinny I can’t stand it.
I had big plans for tomorrow but I’m pretty sure I’m going to be shackled to my friend, Mr. IV Pole for three hours in the morning. I’ll pace until then.
So if you are worried about anything, go on to sleep.
I’ll worry about it for you. I’m going to be up all night praying to Mary and little baby Jesus all night long anyway. I can take requests because what I want is pretty boring ” Joseph, Mary and sweet little baby Jesus! My head hurts! Ow Ow Ow” gets a little repetitious, so really, give me something else to ask for. I’m sort of stuck for material.
The good thing is that my stomach is all empty and on fire (when you are like this and you’ll know when you are, drink some big swigs of cold water. Then you won’t be torturing yourself with the Exorcist type emesis. Makes it easier on yourself.)
So send your requests. My line will be open until about 0800.