So, I technically started my internship.
I also have a school-class that is supposed to… help? Somehow?
I don't know.
All I know is that I look at the homework and make a face.
Apparently part time unpaid internships plus a three credit class don't count as enough to do for financial aid, so I'm a little bitter about that.
…Also, we take our big test by week three, so what the Hell is the rest of the class for other than irritating otherwise busy, stressed, and not-paid students?
I guess to give us time to retake it if we fail.
...Hope I don't need that.
It's my first week at the hospital and already I have been able to make a lot of connections to Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
I find this both comforting and horrifying.
It's exciting though.
I'm getting a calendar, I have a desk with a phone, and I'll even have a key to… things.
Now, what made this sort of Alice-like was
A. the computer system is actually called ALICE, and
B. running around following my supervisor in order to meet new people was a little like following the White Rabbit.
I found myself dragging behind and wondering if I was going to lose her in the endless maze that is those hallways.
At one point, looking for a key for me, we went to someone higher up.
Everyone is really nice, by the way.
This is a very good thing.
This particular very nice higher up person had a bowl of keys.
My key was not in said bowl.
She lamented the fact that she was unsure as to what the keys were even for.
Someone else had handed them to her a while before.
They said things like, "Bin 2" and "Desk" but no indication of what such bin may contain or where such desk might sit.
Yep.
I have been walked around that area of the building a few times now and I still have no idea how to get from point A to point B.
All I know is that they keep the interns in the basement.
No, like, seriously.
It wasn't nearly as scary as had been described, but the hallway is sort of thin and there isn't really a ceiling, so much as exposed pipes and such.
A little Silent Hill-y, but I had no fear of Pyramid Head or anything.
Once you get into the room, it's actually very cozy.
Admittedly, it is a little odd to know I am physically replacing a previous intern.
This makes sense, but it's still a little jarring to realize that her stuff was once right here, where my stuff is.
I know she just moved on and may have even gotten a nice cushy job somewhere, but I had a sense like she was dead.
I'm pretty sure she isn't dead, but I didn't want to ask.
That seemed rude.
Either way, any worries were replaced knowing that I have those cubical walls where you can pin stuff up like a giant corkboard.
Dad told me not to cover it in Batman.
I'm an adult and I'll do what I want.
Overwhelming horror returned when I had to record not one, but THREE voicemails.
I don't like the sound of my own voice, and recording things always leads to my sounding like I have eight thousand sticks shoved up my ass.
That actually wound up more harrowing than getting a needle shoved in my arm right before then.
Oh, wait…
Did I not mention that?
Yeah. You know. The PPD for tuberculosis and such.
We had gotten my photo for my ID, and run over to the nice nurse to ask about what proof of what immunizations I'd need.
Working in a hospital and occasionally wandering into the ER makes this pretty freaking important.
Once there, suddenly my supervisor has her arm exposed like, "LET'S DO THIS" and I'm sitting there saying, "Yes, hi, I'm terrified and confused and you just took a syringe out of like a mini-fridge? and what is happening I don't even-" and suddenly a needle was happening in my arm.
Now, obviously I've had this done before, and I had actually signed the needed paperwork…
BUT HOLY CRAP PANIC.
I apparently don't like getting that kind of thing sprung on me, but in all fairness, if it hadn't gone that way, I would have had a lot of trouble mentally gearing up for it later.
This way, it was done.
Also, the thing didn't swell or anything.
Just a little bruise.
The nurse was even super cool because she used to be an allergy person at my allergy… place.
So we talked about the drops and how they're working, and she told me that since I have allergies, my skin would do exactly what it did, so I didn't freak out.
Mind you, any little red splotches are not only usually very brief, but often a creation of my own brain-pan anyway.
It's the worst of super powers.
WHEW. Okay. So. That's that.
Donna is still going strong… (www.rowyngolde.com/donna)
OH! If anyone would like to submit guest strips for Deddrie.com, send an email to deddrie@gmail.com!
Since updating that has taken a huge backseat to Donna, my internship, my class, my relationship, my sanity, and so on, I'm looking for help to fill in that gap.
It can have however much swearing, violence, and so forth.
Ideally, hand me an idea for a script/concept, and anything you'd like me to post under the comic about where to find more of your work or who you are/lwhat you do.
Woot!
Lastly, we are done the casting for EVE and are now in the beginnings of funding!
Check out www.isitEVE.com, like us on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/eveindiefilm), or follow us on Twitter @EVEindiefilm for more news!
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Before I begin this particular post, I'd like to state that I did this to myself. I chose to put myself in a situation where I was facing my allergy phobia in order to hopefully start a treatment for lessening my allergy burden.
This was not easy, and yes, it was uncomfortable.
However, I fully support people getting a skin test in order to get allergy shots, or to go on the drops, which I'm already on for my bazillion food allergies.
Mind you, they don't work for everything. I probably will always have a couple deadly food allergies, but the idea is to lessen the overall load. Becoming more tolerant to some things allows the body to chill a little bit about the more dangerous ones.
I even had my mom and my Knight in Pinstripes right there with me. Rob drew things for me:
With all that said, yes, I was stuck with a thousand needles and it was terrifying.
In fact, Rob drew that too:
However, obviously, I did not die.
I even had a panic attack at one point, but managed to somehow stifle it into a series of stupid jokes.
One of which was actually, "Well, I'm not dead. So, you know, that's better than I thought would happen."
Rob illustrated my emotional journey:
The constant joking and being silly while clearly exaggerating was partly to calm myself down, but also to make sure the nice lady giving the test wouldn't feel bad. Then, consequently, when she laughed, I felt like it wasn't a huge deal either.
This entire "personal story" aspect of this blog has a lot to do with the power of reshaping our stories and finding humor and beauty where there is otherwise pain.
Now then...
The day went pretty smoothly. My mom picked me up from my apartment to take me to my parent's house. Rob was at work in the morning, but took the afternoon off just to be supportive.
*Insert proud grin*
Meeting at my parent's house just wound up easier than meeting at the doctor's office, with it's three or four waiting rooms and such.
I spent my morning desperately trying to ignore how nervous I was, and did this by doing the following:
1.) Playing stupid dress up games online, including games that allow a person to have careers. Some of these careers are easy enough to really have, while others are almost impossible to get in real life.
2.) Staring at my toys and thinking about ways they could do a whole television series of just the minions from Despicable Me.
I freaking love those guys.
3.) Eating bacon and eggs, lovingly prepared by my momma, 'cause I'm an adult.
There are very few foods that don't freak me out, and bacon is one of the consistently "safe" foods for me. I can't even explain why.
A lot of the foods I go to are heavily processed and probably inherently unhealthy on some level or another, but having no allergies to preservatives or dyes and ALL the allergies to organic foods on their own anyway...
I just don't care.
If I'll eat it, awesome.
Rob showed up, we hung out for a bit, and then we were off!
When my name was called, my heart dropped into my stomach, but knowing I had some support made me breathe again.
At that point, Mom had Dad on the phone, who was asking for a play-by-play. If everyone had their way, that tiny room would have been filled with people. I felt very loved.
The first part of the test was on my left upper arm and did not involve any needles.
It was maybe a third of the size it was supposed to be, because I asked to not test for any foods. I'm already on the drops for specifically food allergies, so it would have been a waste of resources and my patented Rowyn-panic.
This was just a tray of tiny pokey things on top of the skin, yet the reaction to a couple of them was instantaneous.
She had marked where the first tray would start with a little heart, so sideways, the first to react (grasses) looked like a little face.
Rob and I both drew what it looked like:
His was somehow more accurate:
"I am the grasslord"
Yes you are.
The left arm slowly got more and more itchy, though most of the dots of allergens didn't react at all. That's a good thing.
The ones that DID react, however...
And then came the right arm.
OH MY CRAP.
So many tiny little needles. I tried to just not look.
Mostly, it didn't hurt. ...I was still afraid though. I think I kept it in check well. I was told later that despite me openly stating my crippling fear, I apparently handled it like a pro.
Rob drew some stuff during this whole right arm process, like the Cheshire Cat telling me to relax:
And his way of telling me I was very brave for facing my fear:
He actually printed out a certificate of "Bravery at the Doctors" for me to frame on the wall. He even signed and dated the thing.
By the end of my twitches, wincing, and bad jokes, my right arm looked like this:
Rob expected me to just pass out once the adrenaline wore off, and I'm surprised that I didn't.
Instead, I just wanted to eat and not be touched ever again.
Back at my parent's house, my father told me that Batman himself had heard about my appointment and how brave I was, and had asked him to give me an awesome Bat-signal magnet.
Yes, I'm 27.
Shut up.
I'm the goddamn Batman.
Later, "chicken for dinner" turned into this:
Oh, you mentioned a food in passing? LETS HAVE THAT TOO.
...My broccoli isn't drawn well.
...That's broccoli in the middle on the bottom there.
...
Anyhoo, then Rob and I went back home.
I cuddled up in my robe, going from itchy and awake to exhausted and a little dizzy.
It wasn't horrible, but the ick came in waves.
To get my mind off the crap of it, Rob played American McGee's Alice: Madness Returns so I could watch it like a cartoon.
It's a pretty game.
I wasn't going to sleep at a reasonable time that night, and I wound up hungry again. Rob, being amazingly Rob-like, scrambled an egg for me.
I'm going to be pretty freaked out the first few times I get the allergy shots. However, I've been on the drops for forever, and I'd be getting the shots in a safe setting, surrounded by doctors and epi-pens.
I was told the red dots from the test would be there a few days, and a day later, they are almost entirely gone. Clearly, I'll be able to handle it.
I have a year to decide. After that year, I'll need to be tested again, and that's crappy, so screw it. I'll do the shots.
Now to figure out my insurance!
Stress is a common factor in my life. It just is. It's so common that I tend to flip out even more when things are going smoothly, because that isn't what I'm used to.
Stress is a family trait.
However, how we deal with that stress has some different variation to it...
Though most of our ways of handling stress end with us curled up in a little ball on our beds. I've noticed that pattern.
When my mother is stressed, she goes into denial:
And then goes to sleep until the problem goes away.
When my father is stressed...
Sometimes he handles it really well:
Other times, he turns into an ogre:
Makes unintelligible noises:
And eventually goes to sulk in the bedroom.
Then there is my sister.
When she is stressed:
When I'm stressed:
...
Well, you probably know about that by now.
Also, migraines run in the family, partly, I'm sure, because stresssss runs in the family.
Like the other stress-bed responses, when I have a migraine, I generally go to bed, hydrate, take a pain killer, and cry a lot until it stops.
But, that was before Rob.
My Knight in Pinstripes is relentlessly...
Himself.
See, me having a migraine was a problem.
And Rob? He fixes problems.
He fixes problems whether you like it or not.
So, first thing was first.
My Halloween mug was presented to me filled with filtered water and along with that came a pain killer:
He read to me.
Can we just process that?
Rob freaking read to me. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, specifically. Not even a full chapter in, I was happy.
Even though my head felt like it was trying to both implode and explode, I felt loved, and that was helpful.
Next, I mentioned, briefly, that I was cold.
SUDDENLY THERE WAS MY FUZZY ROBE.
Again, I was pleased. I felt like an asshole though, because I didn't know what to do with someone really actively taking care of me as an adult, let alone who wasn't my mom or something.
Still, it was nice.
We cuddled on the sectional couch:
Once light didn't make me want to rip out my eyes, we watched the animated Disney Alice (well, half of it)
And I was pleased to be nestled until I was sleepy and pain free between Rob and my sandworm.
(There are pictures of the real thing in Birthday Bashing)
All things said and done, it was a MUCH better experience than just being comforted by a pillow.
Fabric paint is my friend.
For sweatshirts to sport my favorite things:
To fixing shirts that previously fit me but had stains:
To making ridiculous things just so they glow in the dark:
Weeeee!
