Archive for the ‘Fuckbrain’ Category
March 21st, 2008 | Author: trancejen
I’ve been debating about what I would say, you know; whether I would post some amusing yet inane story about going out, which I do approximately once every month or two after hauling my body out of the sizeable dent in the sofa, or whether I would post the real deal.
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Things are not good. I’ve been experiencing numbness in my face and hands for a while now but it’s been getting severe and accompanied by a weird painful tingling. This is something I can live with, but I guess the hand thing indicates trauma to the slipped discs in my neck from frequent falling that might require surgery. I’m having an MRI on my neck next week to find out more. The numbness in my face is a little more serious and my neurologist has ordered a brain MRI this week and a spinal tap pending the results.
I’ve also been losing control of my bladder and bowels, particularly when I fall. I guess no matter how politely you say you’re shitting yourself, you’re shitting yourself even more if you think it sounds polite. I am so embarrassed and disgusted by this that I can’t even begin to express it. And the fact that my son has seen this…
… I don’t have the words.
I do a couple of shots of Immodium if I plan to go anywhere. The other day I had a spinal epidural injection and all I could do was lie there and bite my tongue, praying I would not shit myself on the table while the handsome doctor lodged a fucking needle in my lower back.
This is unreal. This, me, who used to fucking pray, scream, cry and go to extreme measures to be able to take a shit.
I feel like I am living a nightmare.
Time is passing quickly, oddly enough. There hardly seems to be enough time to sit and while the day away watching endless Law and Order reruns. I blink and an hour is gone.
At night I think about suicide. I think about the bottles and bottles of pills I have at my disposal, but then I think about the shrink’s warnings that most people that OD end up brain damaged. I think about the razor blades in the box under the bed, but then I think about my mother finding a mattress soaked in blood.
I think about Jadon and what his life would be like. I think perhaps he would be pretty fucked up. I think perhaps he’s pretty fucked up now, watching his mother seize and piss herself on the floor. I think that I don’t fucking know which is worse.
I am so scared right now. I am so fucked up.
I am so lost in this. I am so terribly lost, and nobody can find me.
October 4th, 2007 | Author: trancejen
My doctor is now referring me to some big muckymuck doctor in Indianapolis. This isn’t too shabby because it is only be two and a half hours away by car, but of course the guy has a waiting list that stretches out until January.
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At this point I am no longer seething with anger about being dumped by the Cleveland Clinic. I’m more numb about the whole thing. I must admit that I had high hopes that the Cleveland Clinic was going to place me in their little Jetson-esque Cleveland Clinic machine and cure me, but hey, that in itself was a bit of a pipe dream, no?
Anyway, this dude in Indianapolis is supposed to be great with autonomic nervous system dysfunction (junction, what’s your function?), so hopefully he’ll be of some help.
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In other news, I am thoroughly sick of apple pie and so are all my neighbors.
In still other news, I still am not running my new laptop because I still have no router THANK YOU DELL. However, I can report that it is very nice and shiny and runs everything but the internet just ez nice ez you please.
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July 27th, 2007 | Author: trancejen
Goin’ to the Cleveland Clinic in October. They do accept my insurance, and it’s all set up. They’re one of the best neurology clinics in the country, so I’m pretty psyched.
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Now I just need to find a ride. And lodging. Thankfully I have ample time to do so.
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July 26th, 2007 | Author: trancejen
Just went to the neuro.
Goin’ to Mayo clinic.
‘Bout fuckin’ time.
Happy Thursday, babies.
July 10th, 2007 | Author: trancejen
Why do I continue to go to hospital after hospital for test after motherfucking test when I have already HAD all of these tests?
Hey, Doctors: I am not a laboratory rat. Leave me alone.
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I have glue in my hair and I am crabby. I am going to eat a peanut butter sandwich and then go float in the cold pool.
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If anyone knows better soothing agents than peanut butter and jelly and cold chlorinated water, I wish they’d clue me in.
Happy Tuesday.
January 19th, 2007 | Author: trancejen
‘SUP 
YOU MAY NOTICE THAT I LOOK LIKE POOP 
THAT’S BECAUSE IT’S NO-MAKEUP EEG DAY 
US WHITE FOLKS WEREN’T CUT OUT FOR THIS NO MAKEUP SHIT 
GOT ALL HOOKED UP TO STUFF 
PLUS SOME LOVELY HOSPITAL COUTURE 
AND GOT MY HEAD ALL WIRED 
(NOT FUN LIKE IT SOUNDS) 
TOLD MY KID THAT HE IS CORRECT AND THAT I AM, AS SUSPECTED, AN EVIL DROID WHO MUST BE PERIODICALLY RECHARGED 
WAS WATCHED THROUGHOUT THE PROCESS BY THIS CAMERA, AKA “THE MAN” 
EVEN WHILE USING THIS LOVELY TOILET PROVIDED FOR MY CONVENIENCE 
I ASSUMED THIS WAS A JOKE AT FIRST 
IT WASN’T 
THEY POKED MY POOR HAND TO DEATH UM, BY THE WAY FOLKS 
THIS IS JUST A FUCKING RING YOU GUYS READ TOO MUCH INTO SHIT HONESTLY 
BY THE SECOND DAY I WAS PRETTY DAMNED BORED 
HANDILY, THE TV WAS TOO FUCKING FAR AWAY TO SEE 
I DID GET SOME FLOWERS 
FROM THAT GUY BULLSHIT 
BY THE THIRD DAY, LACK OF SLEEP AND COSMETICS HAD STARTED TO MAKE ME A LITTLE SQUIRRELY 
OK, MAYBE A LOT SQUIRRELY HEY, YOU FUCKING PEE IN A BUCKET FOR THREE DAYS ANYWAY, NOW THE DOCTORS WILL HAVE A CLEAR PICTURE OF WHAT’S HAPPENING IN MY BRAIN 
YEAH, I THOUGHT SO, TOO.HAPPY WEEKEND.
By the way, should you ever need to get super glue out of your hair = acetone. Yeah.
November 14th, 2006 | Author: trancejen
I was downstairs for five minutes and didn’t get the damned phone in time.
“This is 555-1212. Please leave a message.” *BEEP*
“Hello – Ahhh – Hi, this message is for Jenny-fahr Trance – Ahhhh – regarding the message that you left for me – Ahhhh – Oh yeah, this is Doctor Something – Ahhhhh – Ummmm – Yeah… anyway, I was calling about your Topamax, and um, yeah… I think we don’t need to do a taper, we can just go with a lower dose for right now – Ahhhhh – And um, yeah. Um, could you just call me back, and – Ahhhhh – we could maybe discuss this further. Yeah. OK, bye. This is Dr. Something. OK, bye now.
Good to know I’m not the only one who gets flustered when faced with voice mail.
Happy Tuesday. Again.
September 6th, 2006 | Author: trancejen
So today was EEG day.
Last night I was directed not to eat or drink anything after midnight, and then to sleep from midnight until four AM only. They were very specific about this sleep schedule thing. Midnight till four ONLY! No nodding off at eleven-thirty, brain patient!! No sneaking that extra half hour in the wee sma’s, either. Twelve to four is what you get.
I knew that this was not going to happen. For starters, I only sleep at night with the aid of a magic pill, and without it I am up – hi, hello, let’s read a novel, let’s watch some movies, let’s listen to some tunes, I’m in it for the long haul, we don’t need no steenking sleep.
My friends and I used to refer to this as “wedging”, probably because the next day one feels as if a wedge of wood has been jammed between one’s eyes.
I didn’t take the pill because with it, I am out for the long haul and will sleep deeply for at least nine hours. Getting up after four hours of sleep is not an option. You can roll a Mack truck through the TranceCave, but other than drooling and kicking the covers across the room, I will not respond.
At midnight I lay down and realized that my eyes were not going to close. I tried to think about the most boring things I could think of. Math. Lawn care. An in-depth analysis of the vitamins my father thinks I should be taking in addition to the many that I already choke down every day.
Wide fucking awake. The kind of wide awake in which your brain and body let you know that you, my friend, are not going to be drifting off to dreamland anytime soon. You, my friend, are going to be staring at the clock.
Fortunately I can’t see my clock without my contact lens in.
I lay there for around two hours, possibly drifting off for fifteen minutes or so, finally said, “Fuck this,” and woke up and painted my nails.
I never paint my fingernails.
Being up at five AM and not being allowed to have coffee sucks more than being the meat in an Ann Coulter-Rush Limbaugh sandwich with bleu cheese and fried shit on the side.
I do not like five AM unless I am either drunk or holding a very large espresso.
After showering and getting the J-Man ready for school, I headed over to my neighbors (my wonderful, amazing neighbors, who have no qualms about driving me into the pit of Hell) and we departed for the east ghetto.
I have had very little experience with EEGs, except for the 24-hour variety, in which they superglue wires to your head and send you home with a little monitor, warning you harshly not to rip your wires out.
This EEG seemed to be going in about the same direction, with a technician rubbing little parts of my tombstone-like forehead and scalp with alcohol and then attaching electrodes with some sort of goo, but I was then asked to lie down on a bed.
“I can’t lie down,” I thought. “I will go directly to sleep.”
When lying “still” I can usually feel myself jerking in some way or another most of the time. Whether this is mild seizing or whether I am just a fucking spaz I’m really not sure, but I suppose I’ll know now. My eyelids were twitching away and my left shoulder was doing some sort of elaborate hip-hop move, and to be honest I felt like a big twitchy idiot lying there.
Then I was directed to close my eyes. I was out in about three seconds, but I think I must have had some type of small seizure, because when I woke up she was calling my name and I was swallowing repeatedly, which is usually something that happens post-seizure.
Then she took a strobe light, stuck it two inches from my face, and cranked it up.
Holy Jesus.
I thought my brain was going to fucking implode.
Chances are pretty good that I have experienced something more painful than that, but I don’t remember it and I don’t want to.
I don’t know whether I seized or not, I just remember feeling like I was having a really, really bad time with some really, really awful drugs and that I was fading in and out of consciousness like I was about to croak.
Then the tech was calling my name, and I was done.
After being de-wired, I made it out of the room before dry-heaving in the hall and groggily finding my way down to the lobby, a trip that I am not quite sure how I made.
My neighbors (who, once again, are saints walking this earth) got me to the car somehow, and I passed directly out, waking up to “JENNIFER. JENNIFER.” in my driveway.
Then I went inside and slept like a corpse for four hours. I guess the neighbors and my mom were in and out of the house a couple of times, checking on me to make sure that I was indeed alive.
I don’t know why the test affected me so strongly or why I feel so incredibly shitty, but I’m still seeing little boxes in front of my face and I have a splitting headache.
Tomorrow is the tilt table test, in which the doctor will actually tries to induce dizziness and nausea by tilting me up and down on a table and giving me medicine to abruptly raise your heart rate while doing so.
Can’t fucking wait.
Happy Wednesday.
September 3rd, 2006 | Author: trancejen
I am le tired.
I think it says much about my state of mind that I could not possibly give less of a shit that it’s a holiday weekend. In fact, I could not give less of a shit that it’s a weekend, period. Saturday, Sunday, Monday, holiday, it’s all the same fucking twenty-four hours to me these days.
Wake up, take pills, take a nap, wake up, take pills, take a nap, spend some time with my child, watch a little tube, take pills, go to bed. Throw some internet usage and a few doctor’s appointments in there and there you have my week.
I’m a little tired of being sick this week. I am tired of my own head and I am damned sure tired of my own body.
There are no parties, there are not even any invites, because people know by now that I don’t have a ride, and that even if I did I probably would not feel well enough to come and last a whole day without feeling like shit and having to leave, and then there is the fact that I might have a fucking seizure, and no one wants to see that shit.
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Or maybe I have just walled myself off for so long that I’ve alienated myself from everyone.
I don’t know. I’m just really fucking lonely these days.
I have friends coming into town in a couple weeks and I am so thankful for that I can hardly stand it, because it will break up the horrible monotony of staring at these walls.
I get so sick of this house that sometimes I shut my eyes in denial and my muscles go slack and I sink right into the floor as if it was quicksand, and then as I am sinking my mind goes blank and I forget to be sick of it at all, and then I become this person who has completely forgotten what it is like to be free, and that in itself is enough to make my heart break.
August 30th, 2006 | Author: trancejen
Our seventeen-year-old cat, Ollie (Oliver North), is having seizures. She has been having them for quite some time.
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Rather than feeling some sort kinship with this animal, I am instead unreasonably and inexplicably annoyed by her. She howls morning, noon, and night, and nobody can get her to shut the fuck up.
About a month ago, we took her to the vet, who gave her a shot which immediately stopped all seizure activity and quieted her down. This lasted for the entire month. Nothing of consequence happened to this cat during August. She was as calm and as happy as a cat could be.
The vet is apparently one hell of a neurologist.
The miracle shot didn’t last forever, though. Now she’s spazzing out again, falling off of furniture, flipping out on the floor, and, to quote my son, “imitating Mommy”.
This time, I’m going to the fucking vet, too. I want to be normal for a month.
As long as he doesn’t take my temperature.
Happy Wednesday.
