Tuesday, April 17, 2012

A Fishbone is Slowly Driving Me Mad

Okay, so, as most of you know by now, whenever I say "Wow, this has been the most awesome day ever!" something horrible happens.

This was particularly evident on my birthday: (see Birthday Bashing)

Here are some pictures I drew that may help describe what I've been feeling:

You know, like a chest burster from Alien, but in my throat.

So, here's what happened.  Ready?
The day was awesome.  I had gone out with a friend and her mother thrift-shopping.  Then, we wandered around town a bit and looked at some artwork, including some awesome outside sculpture.
Then, there was dinner.  They had made reservations and included me!  YAY!  People think of me! 

This is where happy set in.

This was a terrible mistake.

I got a salad, wary that I often don't think I'm going to be having an allergic reaction to something, and then something goes terribly wrong.  I had this weird "Something bad is about to happen to me" feeling, so I figured a salad would be safe.

Technically speaking, it was.

(EDIT: Okay, as it turns out, the reason bad things often happen when I have a bad feeling is because it's really just a panic attack waiting to happen.  Otherwise, I probably would have been...well, not "fine" but less bad?  I guess?)

On this salad was an anchovy.  Three of them, actually.  They mocked me.  Since they had been sliced open and had all their innards removed, I popped one into my mouth. 

The whole thing. 

Even the head.

I'm an idiot.

I felt that there was a bone, but there wasn't really any pain.
Instead, I got this sudden warm sensation followed by a serious sense of light-headedness. 

This is generally the first sign that I've eaten something I'm deadly allergic to, so I assumed I was going to die unless I took the necessary steps. 

I calmly excused myself, saying that I thought I might be having an allergic reaction, and went to the bathroom to desperately try to vomit up the offending food item.

I couldn't puke.

This is a terrifying thing, knowing that all I had on me was a couple benadryl and an expired epi-pen.

Again, I'm none too smart.

EDIT:  I couldn't vomit because of an amazing amount of throat damage that I was unaware of even having.  But shh... I didn't know that when I wrote this entry. 

So, I sat my ass back down and drank some water, noting that the flashing warmth and panic seemed to be going in and out, which is admittedly odd for an allergic reaction.  I took the benadryl and requested that I go home.

I felt like garbage, and my housemate took care of me.

By "took care of me", I mean that he was polite enough to ask if it was okay that he was going to have a girl over and have sex and not really pay attention to me.  If I had looked worse, I'm sure he would have rushed to my aid, (Probably.  ...Hopefully) but over all I was just confused and miserable and I assume he was well aware of that.

A week went by and I was fine.  I forgot about it entirely.

Then, the fishbone moved.

This is where some may say, "Bullshit.  If it was a bone, you would have noticed the discomfort for that whole week."

Clearly, these are people who do not have chronic discomfort.
I do.
My throat is always a little wonky.  My glands are always kinda puffy.  I'm always a little physically miserable.  So, no.  I didn't notice a difference.

Every time I swallowed anything, even water, that warm sensation and head spinning flared up. 

I called Boyfriend and he and Housemate came to pick me up to take me to the ER.  They had errands to run and people to meet up with, so Boyfriend wasn't going to stay with me there.  He looked very sad about this.  He held my hand, kissed me on the head, and DID stay with me at least until I was all checked in.

(EDIT: This is the part that makes my father want to punch everything in the world.  While I am endlessly forgiving to a fault when I'm in a relationship, this doesn't change the fact that he left his panic attack ridden girlfriend at the ER.)

I was fine, obviously not dying, but very much worried and panicking. 

What I didn't know was that I was surrounded by quacks.

After waiting a thousand trillion bazillion years, I was ushered into a cubicle.  Not an examining room... A cubicle.  I waited for the doctor there.  I could hear everyone else's ailments.  I watched as a girl in the stall next to me got up and walked around a few times, explaining that she was claustrophobic.

Then, I felt myself swallow the bone. 

The doctor came in.  He was nice enough, but he looked down my throat for all of a second with a flashlight and no scope, and then proclaimed that it must not be a bone and must be seasonal allergies. 

As someone with a shit ton of allergies, I can tell you, no. 


Just no.

(EDIT: Turns out, he wasn't entirely wrong.  Check out Okay, So it Wasn't the Fishbone.)

Then, I was moved to another not-examining-room to sit in a circle of chairs with a bunch of other people where were sitting by their loved ones.

Oh, look.  Some people have loved ones.

A nurse man came in and handed me a little bottle.  I thought about keeping the bottle because it reminded me of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, but filled with a numbing drug, rather than something else.

I was told to chug it.

Then he ran away.

Okay, yes, I was in the ER so if I had keeled over, someone would have (hopefully) noticed and done something, but I'm used to a doctor or nurse sticking around when I'm taking a new medication to see if there is any bad reaction.

Nervous, I drank it down.  It numbed up my throat, but since I wasn't really in any direct pain to begin with, making my throat numb and making it warm and even more difficult to use for swallowing just made me panic even more.

Thankfully, it wore off quick.

The nurse came back and asked if it helped.  When I said no and why it didn't help, he let me leave.

...Then a nurse looked at my chart, back at me, back at the chart and said, "Oh, this is totally a fishbone.  This doesn't make sense as allergies.  It'll pass."

Thank you nurse lady.

So, a week after that, I'm fine, until it flares up again.  It wasn't as bad that time, but still jarring and a bit fucked up in the grand scheme of things.  I called the ear, nose and throat doctor to make an appointment and this happened:

So, okay.  Two weeks isn't bad.  I had already gone that amount of time with this bone reeking havoc on my life, so fine.


And then it got worse. 

No more warm sensation, or spinning... But my throat was healing whatever had been scratched up, and so, still, it's difficult to swallow and sometimes to breathe.

I noticed that tilting my head felt better, and found myself doing it all the time.  Even when talking to people.

After a while, I stopped eating, afraid of what it would feel like.

Even with barely any food in my stomach, I started getting nauseous.

I became weak, walking around on the floor on all fours, because when I stood up, I'd just fall over.

And then finally:

Which somehow led to me questioning my entire position in life and what the Hell I'm doing at 26 instead of following my dreams.

It was like the stages of grief, but with more stabbing pains in my stomach from trying to digest a freaking bone and nothing else.

I've gotten a system of eating everything very slowly and trying to take benadryl on occasion to reduce swelling.  I see the doctor in three or so days.

(EDIT: As it turns out, what I did during this time turned into what some do on purpose as the "Apple Juice Detox Diet" and I would not recommend it.  I did lose fifteen pounds but to begin with, I was only about a hundred.)

Really, I just want to know if it's itchy and extra puffy now because it's healing, or if I'm just infected.  We'll find out soon.  Woo.

(EDIT: Again, check out Okay, So it Wasn't the Fishbone for more.)

Thursday, April 12, 2012

My To-Do List Vs. Reality

Thing I should be doing:
Updating Deddrie.com

What this entails:
Drawing a freaking comic, scanning it, posting it.  It's not that complicated.

Thing I say to myself:
"Is it really that hard to do a stab joke?  Deddrie can be crude and stupid.  That's why he's so great.  This doesn't have to be so thought out!  We have FANS that are waiting!"

My insane rationale for not doing it:

"But... I have these that are too big to scan and I'm waiting to do that so I can edit and... and...  and...  ..."  There is no viable rationale. 

Thing I should be doing:


What this entails:
Reading stuff I find interesting, writing brief responses, and drawing a bit.  You know, that thing I love doing anyway.

My insane rationale for not doing it:

I'm not sure exactly what I should do, and I want to impress this class.

...So I do... nothing?  Kay.  What?

Thing I should be doing:
Going over Moth again and publishing the damn thing.

What I'm doing instead:
Occasionally writing bits of things that could go into other things and then forgetting what notebook it was in or just scrapping it... 
OR starting an entirely new story with the characters. 

Thing I should be doing:
Planning out the comic of Mr. No and doing another page of Donna.
Mr. No animation

Reason I should be doing these things:
They'll actually be publishable and I could move on with my damn life.  I mean, look at them.  Interesting shit, right?

Reason I'm not doing this:
I... don't know.  Fear of screwing it up?  No idea.  Donna, at least, it's a matter of finding someone to do color and backgrounds, but also a matter of having the money to pay someone to do said color and backgrounds.  ...It's a bit of a vicious cycle.

Thing I WANT to do:
Play Alice: Madness Returns

Legitimate reason I want to:
I played the first game over and over on the computer.  As an enormous fan of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and everything even mildly related to it, I loved this game.  I loved the Psychological elements and the character designs and... everything.  LOVE.  So, I bought the sequel as soon as I could.

Insane reason I'm not doing it:
I have trouble with point with one, look with other controls and I'm too stubborn to learn in order to play a game I waited over a decade to play.  My real reason?  Imagined embarrassment. 

I'm so frustrated by these types of controls (based on when I was, like, thirteen or something) that everyone else is awesome at, that I'm actually afraid to even try, thinking I will look stupid.  Mind you, I can play when I'm ALONE IN THE HOUSE, but I'm still assuming someone will come in and see me failing and be like "Wow.  Noob" even though no one cares how I play MY damn game.  The roommates in my head are drastically worse than any of my actual friends in real life.  I know this.  So, I keep myself from playing a game, and instead watch videos and cry about how no one will play the game for me, so I can just watch it... Knowing I'll be frustrated when they aren't doing what I would do. 

I know this is stupid. 

Thing I should be doing:
Doing a better post.

Reason I'm not:
Honestly, it's like a baby depression. 

I have so many things I want and should do, that I'm just overwhelmed and not doing anything. 

Because of a lack of comments, even though people post on other things about it, I don't believe anyone is reading this.

Also, I'm hyped up on Benadryl because a fish bone is ruining my life.  ...I'm sure I'll do a post about that eventually.

Thing I'm doing instead:

"Stupid games on internet" is what that says.  I'm not rescanning.  Nope.  Not gonna.

In other news:

Sunday, April 1, 2012

April Foo- Fuck you.

 I may add illustrations to this later.
EDIT: I added some illustrations!  Woo!

You know that thing where I'm the daughter who is really neurotic and has some really fucked up anxiety issues?

And, remember how when I was a kid, people said I didn't have a sense of humor because I couldn't bring myself to laugh if something wasn't funny?


As it turns out, I still can't take a joke.  At all.   Oh my god.

So, well meaning boyfriend has this plan in his head, and it's a funny plan.  It pokes fun at all the issues we've had and conquered and he knows I can take it because I'm a smart cookie.

So, after I've had a long day of sitting for six hours with a man who talks a lot but says very little, and I've been looked at and scrutinized for this person's make up class and then made to look quite literally like a clown... I come home.

...The make up part wasn't so bad.  It was the application of the base that was bad.  The teacher had to explain, loudly, which areas of my face needed to be covered up.

Apparently this is how some people see me: 

Which makes me feel like this:

So, I go home.
We have a wonderful rest of the day. 

I am very happy.

Typically, I'm so paranoid, that when I'm happy for too long, I flip shit, thinking something horrible will happen to screw it all up.


Why make me right for no reason??  WHAT?

Boyfriend was just gone for ten days across the country with a friend of his and I missed him dearly. 

Boyfriend today says, via text, "Soooo...  I have some interesting news..." and waits for me to come up with all kinds of ridiculous and exponentially more and more horrible things until he finally says that he is going away for a couple of days with said friend.


So, seeing that it's April 1st, I say, "Or, it's just an April Fool's joke.  Good one."

He tells me that he wishes it was.

Here is mistake number one.  When your neurotic, anger prone girlfriend who has abandonment issues calls you out on fucking with her, the joke should be over.

No no.  Not my boyfriend.  He's an all or nothing kind of chap. 


So much.

I hate everything.

So, I ask if he'll be back home tonight or if he's leaving right away.  ...and he doesn't answer for a while.  I start ranting about how he should at least CALL ME like a decent human being and how, no, I don't think he's so evil that he purposefully brings me so high up just to drop me farther down. 


He gets home, we chat for a while.  I show him that I'm okay with him leaving.  I'm upset, but okay.  We laugh.  We are very cute and happy.

Then, he tells me it was all a joke.

To anyone else, this would be hilarious.  Watching it happen, it would have been.



It takes me a while of asking him very quietly to stand up so I can hit him as hard as I can in his stomach.  I tell him I won't go for his balls, and I will let him tighten his abs first. 

I'm five foot nothing and I weigh about a hundred pounds.  He's a foot taller than I am and significantly stronger. 

I was so angry that he was honestly a bit concerned for his well being. 

This is the most rational thing he did this evening.

I resort to plucking out a nose hair of his that had been bothering me for a couple of days.  If I'm going to cause him pain, it may as well be productive.  Then, he hugs me, and I send him on his merry way.

So... Never mind.  It was a joke.

...I can't tell if I'm happy. 

...I hate this holiday.