Category: Health

I’M SO OLD

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | 1 Comment on I’M SO OLD

Sorry for radio silence. I’ve been real fucking depressed and anxious as hell. I believe that I mentioned my night time panic attacks previously? Well, here’s the jist: I’ve been waking up to panic attacks. Most I’ve been really proud of myself for getting under control. Counted breathing and smashing my face in the pillow to simulate a paper bag. Not that it’s as simple as that cause I start counting and I’m just counting cause I’m panicking and just speed running 1 2 3 4 5 6 1 2 3 4 5 6 likes it will summon a peacefulness fairy until I get it going right.

The other night I had a really terrible one. I couldn’t stay in bed. I was prancing around. No, I was not walking, it was more of a prance cause I was in PAIN. I bent myself over the bedroom couch (it’s MY nook) trying so hard to stretch my chest muscles open (can you get a charlie horse of the chest?). Then I was drenched in sweat and totally going to throw up. So I ran to the bathroom and hit the floor by the toilet.

The bathroom tiles were so refreshing and cool and I sat their by the toilet cooling off forever until the vomit feeling passed enough for me to leave.

Then I’ve been getting night sweats. Every. Single. Night. (The panic attacks are not nightly… As of now). Like husband is over there under the comforter burritoed in. Normally, I sleep with my beloved fuzzy blanket because it’s so light and airy. If I get too cool, I’ll pull the top sheet over it. But it doesn’t absorb sweat. So I switched to just the top sheet as needed. Keep in mind, I have a vornado fan on full blast, not 5 feet away, pointed at my chest/back. I’ve done the fan thing since Jack was a kitten. I started it to drown out the sound of him licking his ass while I tried to sleep. Kept it ever since. Though I have replaced it ONE TIME. I even travel with it sometimes when we don’t fly.

So now, every single night, I wake up drenched in sweat. If y’all have ever seen me workout or work in the yard, you know I sweat like a fountain. Once at CrossFit, one of the guys asked If I finally just dumped my nalogene over my head. I had not. So that’s how much sweat. Soaked through the sheets and you could ring out my pj pants. But there’s a fan blowing right on me and I’m soaked, so now I’m fucking FREEZING like I just got out of the pool on a cool cloudy day with high winds.

So I gotta take my pants off, but I can’t do anything about the sheet. One night I tried sleeping on a blanket so I could strip it off and then have a dry spot. I toss and turn too much so it got wadded up and I just had a wet blanket AND sheets.

So our yearly physical was coming up. I was positive I was hyperthyroid. My thyroid levels have NEVER been correct at my yearly. Anxiety, running hot? Hyperthyroid. gotta be. We fix it.

We go to the physical and I’m up first (husband and I do our blood draws and physicals together. We get twice as much time with the doctor!). It’s not my thyroid. My thyroid is perfect. I’m devastated. My doctor was like, yeah I was hoping too. How old are you? 41.

Perimenopause.

AHHHHHHHHH. WHYYYYYYYYYY?

You know the eye doctor said next time I’d probably have to get bifocals. And I’ve been balding for like 15 years and saw the dermatologist last month and he said this is as good as we can do. There’s not a higher dose to put me on. I just stay in this forever and be glad I’m not losing more hair.

Also, coincidentally, the other day I was reminiscing through old photos. Momma, Jack… I miss them. I was at 2019. Before COVID. Before mom died. Before the brain injury and 3 year trial. Before the huge weight gain of absolute despair at moms death. I looked good. I looked insanely younger. That was less than 5 years ago but I’ve aged terribly since then. I mean,sure, we’ve added boobs and a fucking awesome tattoo, but my god. Look at my face. Look at my eyes. I’m so old. And I read that you age faster after menopause. I’m fucked!

So that put me in a funk. I was feeling just so unattractive and fucked up. And now I’m approaching menopause!?

Jesus.

So I haven’t taken it well. I’m not ok with it. I’m hot. I’m not getting enough sleep and now there’s no magical pill to fix how fucking anxious I am! Like WHAT NOW, GOD? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

THIS IS SOME FUCKING BULLSHIT.

THAT’S BULLSHIT, RONNY!

So. That’s my headspace. I fell so ugly and old and anxious as fuck. Like did you know my job sucks? Did you know my husband’s job is even worse and he’s basically clinically depressed at this point and I can’t do shit about it? Did you know his job just announced there will three rounds of layoffs?

Did you know that people on Reddit are wrong and assholes and will down vote you to hell? And that the city what’s happening page (no rules) HAS RULES. Cause I was just defending someone else who posted a bad review complete with pictures. Then the manager made a new thread to attack her and call her a liar. Then we all started going woah woah woah, a lot of people had similar experiences and posted photos in her review too. And she started antagonizing the original girl who left the review and said she faked the picture and then blocked her so she couldn’t defend herself. So that girl started a thread to ask if she was blocked or the thread was gone. So then we all hopped on the new thread joking about the insanity of it. We were having a great time and being jovial. Talking about favorite places to eat, loving crazy people drama, etc. and there were like 3 people I was conversing with and having a hoot. Then they deleted our fun thread and banned the original reviewer from the group. ON THE NO RULES PAGE. All she did was post a review and then defend herself! Bitch managers personal attack of her is still up.

AND BOEING IS ASSASSINATING WHISTLEBLOWERS!

And then I had an anxiety attack and went to bed for more night sweats.

So that’s how it’s going.

The doctor recommended some supplements I forget the name of. Probably gonna buy a $600 bed jet. But I need to buy a new salt cell and pay for the pool opening and I wanted a fancy aidirandack chair for the deck.

IM NOT DOING OK.

Stress will kill you.

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | Leave a Comment on Stress will kill you.

Last night, I woke up to a panic attack. You know you’re fucked up when you’re stressed out WHILE SLEEPING.

I have found a decent tool to help with panic attacks after a few decades. It’s the simple counting method. I chose 6. So beath in for a count of 6 and out for a count of 6. Repeat until not dead. Last night, I combined it with a variation on breathing into a paper bag.

I just looked it up, and breathing into a paper bag helps restore your CO2 balance which can get messed up when you hyperventilate and breath out too much. Interesting.

A panic attack mid sleep isn’t the best. You can’t lay still when you feel like you’re having a heart attack. For me, I always have to bear my chest because the first thing I feel is my chest muscles clamping down. At least you can lay in bed and cry for an anxiety attack. Husband asked why I did not wake him. You can’t hug pain out.

So I stretched sideways and upward to get my chest as wide as possible and buried my face deep in my memory foam pillow. Then I did the counted breathing. Well, it sounds like I handled it perfectly, but no. I tried the stretching and breathing and it wasn’t working. And I kept just counting but not breathing with the counting. Like just counting to 6 over and over again was a magic spell or something. Took a minute to get my wits about me and just smother myself until it eased up.

its nice that in my 40s, Ive finally found something that legitimately helps me in a panic attack.

Anxiety Attack: Give me hugs and I need a nap.

Panic attack: stretch, controlled counting breaths, maybe buy some paper bags.

Funny though, I got the counting technique from a Nintendo Switch YouTuber who struggles with anxiety. This is why we gotta share our experiences, y’all. 20 years of therapy and I’m using YouTube tips.

Anyway, Sherlock’s house is coming along!

On this day, three years ago…

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | Leave a Comment on On this day, three years ago…

The below Facebook post was in my memories for today. 2020 was a dark time, y’all. And this was BEFORE mom died. Fuck.

What’s funny is, I still remember being robbed in Animal Crossing, cause that cut deep. That was a place of happy innocent retreat for everyone. So getting robbed on fucking Animal Crossing of ALL THINGS. For fucks sake. How low can people be? You gonna rob people on a kids game when they’re giving you free shit. I’m still bitter about it. This is why I hate people, yall. People are bad.

But I actually forgot about the jaw thing. After the car wreck that wrecked my brain, my jaw would sometimes make a piercingly loud noise when I opened my mouth wide. It bothered husband. I think just because it was so jarring. At some point though, it appears to have stopped!

We never “fixed” the jaw issue, for the record. The physical therapist determined that it wasn’t anything harmful, just annoying. Probably cartilage built up funny when I hurt it in the accident. He said it might wear down and stop. Looks like he was right. Can’t remember the last time it made that noise. (*Que me opening my mouth wide while I type*) Neisen Physical Therapy was awesome. Wish I could afford to go get dry needling and neck work done on the regular. My neck has regressed a lot since therapy.

~~~ START: FACEBOOK POST – AUGUST 05, 2020 ~~~

I’m crying because I got robbed in animal Crossing. I let people in to have my saved up DIY recipes. For free. Someone took all my fossils and harvested the money trees I had around my town square. And yes, everyone agrees it’s my fault. But I didn’t expect to get fleeced in a fucking ANIMAL CROSSING GAME when I was being generous. And I have duplicates of almost all the fossils anyway, had they asked, I’d have given them full dinosaurs.

OK, so I didn’t cry over Animal Crossing. Not really. It’s literally the straw that broke the camels back. The tiniest most insignificant thing that just broke the levy.

There’s just too much going on. I’ve got an interview tomorrow which is awesome, right? But The last phone interview I didn’t get. It’s like the first interview I’ve done where I didn’t get a job offer. Seriously. So I’m like WTF? Did I lose my interview mojo? I’m freaking out now.

But I feel good about the job prospect but it opens a flood gate of other things: 1) back to work. I’ve been out of work since October and to go back to working 9 hour days and waking up early and being tired all the time and not having time to take care of things again? Ugh. And how will it affect my head aches? We don’t know.

Speaking of headaches, now when I can’t figure something out, I don’t know if it’s brain damage or normal. Seriously. I have to ask Husband sometimes. Like why can’t I grasp this? Is this normal?

And the ENT thinks I could benefit from more physical therapy. I’m fine with that, I thought physical therapy was working great on my neck and we finally literally THAT last appointment identified the jaw issue from the wreck. The one that causes my jaw to make obnoxiously loud noises every once and a while that bug Husband. LOL. But he decided my progress was too slow and fucking gave up on me. Can’t trust any body.

Not your lawyer either. Shitty ass lawyer. Now we’re in a lawsuit just to try to recover my lost wages — not even damages or anything. And not even the fact that i lost my job. We’re only asking for what I was due till May when the doctor said I should try work part time.

And never trust a fucking company. I’ve told so many people that and then I fell in love with Boecore. And I trusted them. And I love working for my friend, F. And they were awesome for a few months. They told me ‘oh we’ll keep you on as long as you’re making progress” — then all the sudden with NO WARNING, I get a “we’re laying you off next week” phone call. What the fuck was that? You couldn’t have told me a month ago? Some warning would be nice.

But at Least I have Husband’s insurance to fall back on. But then now there’s a deductible that has to be met. Which is why I can’t afford to go back to physical therapy. I need to go to the gastroenterologist too but I can’t afford that either. I can’t afford shit. I was upset and lonely the other day missing my fair-weather friends and Mexican food when Husband suggested Chuy’s take out But we really shouldn’t because it’s cheaper to cook.

We’ve been set back huge financially. And we thought we’d get my missed wages back, but we won’t. We were deceived. Now we’re set back on our plan of where we expected to be right now. And I know, Husband assures me we’re treading water and won’t lose the house — but we lost HALF OUR INCOME. We can’t go on forever like this. And this is my house Mine. Mine mine mine mine. I’d see it bulldozed before I thought of someone else living in it. I can’t fathom it! I was here every day it was being built. I designed it. I picked literally every single color and finish and tile in here. I sat in my bedroom and watched the sunset before there was even sheet rock.

My psychiatrist says this is all temporary. And logically I kinda know it is. BUT WHAT IF IT’S NOT? How long will it go on? How long can it go on? I miss people. I miss eating out. I miss having money.

And anyone who dares to think I didn’t earn my pay and this house can come say it straight to my fucking face because I will gladly let off some steam. I went to school for 9 years to get that damn degree. All the while being mocked for being “forever a student” even jokingly by my own family. I’ve built my career for near 15 years. I earned that pay check. Every penny.

Why can’t you trust anyone? Lawyers, employers, insurers, the general public that won’t take vaccines or wear face masks. Why can’t people just be good?

Who steals shit in ANIMAL CROSSING FOR FUCKS SAKE? Are you serious with me?

Well praise Jesus for a napping husband to sob on. He’s sweet and loving and not something I remotely earned. And Jack. I’ll go hug Jack.

~~~ END: FACEBOOK POST – AUGUST 05, 2020 ~~~

Migraines and Math

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | 1 Comment on Migraines and Math

Yall, my head hurts. I was flirting with a headache all weekend. You know where it comes and goes? Never really enough to get up and take anything though. But Tuesday I went into work and was just like… No. My head hurt and it’s only Tuesday. I can’t do this. So I took a Nurtec (prescription migraine medication can only be taken every 48 hours) and went home. That evening a tree fell on my lawn and I was like fuck it, I’m not going in Wednesday either. All this stress is not helping the migraine.

Wednesday was a headache all day. It comes and goes in waves. Like waves of headache vs waves of migraine. At one point I laid on the couch to rest and I was uncomfortable because my wrist was bent at an odd angle but I did not have the energy to move. Like to move at all. I was just in pain. Also hungry. I was going to ask husband to bring me some peanuts and medication and help me sit up because I could move my lips, but he was about to have a meeting (he works from home). So I was just like. Meh. This is my life now. Then like an hour later I heard him get up and wrangled up the energy to move my wrist finally and Louie came over for pets while I slowly recovered the will to move.

Since I couldn’t really even watch TV yesterday and my cat doesn’t like snuggles, I went to work today. If I’m gonna just intermittently read Reddit, I can get paid to do it. I’m gonna be in pain either way. I can’t miss a full week of work. This could go on for who knows how long. But bonus — it’s been 48 hours so I can take another Nurtec! It didn’t work again. But last night husband went and got me a refill of Excedrin Migraine and I’ve been living off that (I tried Tylenol first and it was a no go). Excedrin Migraine seems to ease the pain for between 1 and 2 hours — but I can only take it every 4.

Last night I couldn’t sleep well (SURPRISE!) but at like 4am, I realized my head didn’t hurt! Holy shit! I was so relieved. I still couldn’t sleep, but it was over. I had feared it was just going to keep going for weeks. So I was just happy and relieved. I was like, I can sleep now!

So yall know, I have a sleep disorder. What I usually do to fall asleep is try to think of the last dream I had and get in that mind space. But the last dream I had sucked. Steve Irwin was in it and I was helping him and another trainer with these platypus stingray things. Well, not platypus. More stingray. But like fat. Like squishmellow stingrays. They had that stingray mouth thing where their mouth is like on their stomach. And I was inside in a murky pool area that was connected to some outside pool or lake. I was supposed to entertain the baby squishmellow stingray while they worked with the adults outside. I think we were getting them ready for a show or something. So I was playing fetch with the baby. Like I had all these pool/bath toys I would throw for him to fetch. But not like dog-fetch, like cat-fetch. Where they go get it and you act all happy but they don’t actually bring it back. So me and baby squish were actually getting along OK. He liked to be petted and kept like rubbing up on my shoulder cause he was having fun. I got over the weird mouth thing. He was kinda cute. But like, he’s a baby and he got bored so he swam out to where the other two were and it was murky water so I couldn’t see him. And that messed up the training with the parents and Steve Irwin went fucking ballistic on me for not being able to just entertain baby squish.

He was really mean.

And I love Steve Irwin. He and Mr Rogers are like fucking saints. They were too good for us. So nowhere in my brain do I really think that Steve Irwin was an asshole. I’m also afraid of murky/dark water and water dreams end up with sharks and sharks terrify me so I was like fuck that dream, we’re not going back there. So I let my mind wander around to things I needed to do. I need to put out fertilizer this weekend. I’m also going to tighten up the sunsail over the new deck. It has stretched quite a bit and I’ve proven to myself that I can reach the anchor points.

So I was thinking, which anchor point should I tighten first? Because that will affect which way the shade gets pulled. So I was trying to visualize the geometry of it from above — a triangle with two points I can pull towards. But it’s not that simple because they both have to be tightened so I’m trying to visualize the outer triangle which is the anchor points and the inner triangle which is the sunsail and how I want it to shift. If I tighten one more than the other, I can almost rotate it a bit inside the outer anchor triangle. I kinda want it to pull more towards the house, so if I tighten that one as much as I can first it’ll shift the sail closer to the house overall…

BAM — Insta-pain.

IT’S MATH. That was the big problem when I had my brain injury. I couldn’t do math. At first I literally just could not even do simple math. Then as I healed, it hurt my head to do math so I had to be careful to push myself but not too far. Now my headache of 3 days went away only to come back when I try to do MATH. Fuck.

I called the neurologist today and left a message. I hope the nurse calls me tomorrow. Like maybe they could give me an Ajovy shot? But then I was thinking an Ajovy shot is going to cost 125$ and I’m hemorrhaging money right now. Also, I probably couldn’t get it tomorrow because I’d need insurance pre-approval BS. But then this afternoon, I remembered that once, they gave me Ajovy in the office. So like, maybe I can ask if they can prescribe it and I can come pick up a sample? I just want my headache to go away.

Oh and here’s what I think of when I think of weird stringray mouths. Also probably why baby squish kept rubbing my shoulder. Fucking meme.

Dammit.

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | Leave a Comment on Dammit.

Holy. Shit. So I’m reading Reddit, like I do. It’s a story about malicious compliance. Basically, this guy was getting overheated working and went to get water and his dick manager said no. So he went back to work and purposefully had a heat stroke.

Anyway, in the comments, people were talking about heat intolerance and how every time something like that happens, it can get worse and you tolerate heat less and less. And I’m like wait, tell me more.

Symptoms:

* feeling very hot in moderately warm temperatures

* excessive sweating

* not sweating enough in the heat

* exhaustion and fatigue during warm weather

* nausea, vomiting, or dizziness in response to heat

* changes in mood when too hot

What the fucking fuck! I have all of those except for the not sweating one which is canceled out by the excessive sweating one!

I have literally been diagnosed with sun poisoning before. Twice, random strangers have stopped me, sat me down and brought me water because I looked like I was gonna pass out (once at the ice cream place with friends — but we were by the drive thru so the heat exhaust from the cars was on me PLUS Alabama summer. A lady took me to a bench and sat me down and bought me a water. Then another time, I was leaving a grocery store and someone stopped me to ask if I was OK. I sat down on the curb and they went and got me water and ice).

I’m ALWAYS HOT. I just bought a fan for my desk and told Husband TODAY and K yesterday (she recommended the fan I bought) how pleased I am to have a nice fan blowing on me at work now.

And yall, KNOW I get angry when I’m hot and thirsty like no ones business.

The other day, Husband’s sister, was talking about working in a room with no AC and how she was pretty much OK until it hit 88 and I was like, no shit I WOULD DIE. No way could I work in 80 degrees. No way. And K and K2 can tell yall how I’m basically a water fountain when I work out.

So now I’m like worried, what causes this? They’re talking about underlying conditions — I don’t have diabetes. I am fat — but this was a problem when I was 175 too. I distinctly remember being crazy bitter that everyone said I’d be cold all the time when I lost weight and I WASN’T.

Husband can attest to being freezing in a robe while I have the fan turned on pointed directly at my face in a tank top.

Parkinsons? MS? Gillion Barre?

Graves disease.

Oh FUCK YOU.

Well. I guess now at least we know why I’m hot all the time. I swear to God last time I slept at the InLaw’s it was winter in the NE and I cracked the window and slept under my light weight fuzzy blanket.

I’m not crazy! Just Graves. Awesome.

Reuse and Recycle

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | Leave a Comment on Reuse and Recycle

So I’ve been taking excellent care of my tattoo. Only the best lotions and sunscreens. Long sleeves if I’m swimming. Excellent care.

So it occurred to me, I could actually take care of my face too. Right now, in mid summer, my face doesn’t look terrible. That’s because it seems swimming in the pool helps my complexion. Usually though, I have zits and tons of ingrown hairs. PCOS gives me chin and lip and sideburn hair that has to be shaved daily. Every day. So when there’s a zit or something, there’s never time for it to heal. It’s getting shaved over every single day. I don’t wear makeup daily so this makes me very self conscious.

I’ve also got a secret, I don’t use lotion. Yep (or nope?) I never developed a skin care regimen. I don’t even know where to start. But like, I decided I should try it on my face. So I went through all the subscription box stuff I just tossed in drawers over the years and googled easy facial routines. Now I’m doing a routine. Evening: Wash, Toner, Serum, Lotion. Morning: Wash, Lotion with sunscreen. I’m so fancy! So apparently you need cotton rounds to apply toner. So I bought some. But like, these are ugly. How shall I store this?

Oh yeah. That’s right. I’ve been married over a decade, and I finally have a good use for my old leather condom box. Magnificent. I’m so chuffed with my condom box.

Anyway, I’m making an effort here. Does anyone have any advice for sunscreen lotion? I bought some for $18 and it burns my eyes just like every god damn sunscreen I’ve ever put on my face. The only sunscreen I can use on my face is Sun Bum stick. It’s so solid that it doesn’t move or sweat. It’s on ’til you wipe that shit off. Everything else eventually ends up in my eye corners and burns! Help!

On my Arm Lift. And tattoo.

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | Leave a Comment on On my Arm Lift. And tattoo.

Usually, I write off my brachioplasty (arm lift) results. There’s multiple reasons. I didn’t get liposuction (would have if I knew to ask!) so I still have really big arms. I also still have that obnoxious fat overhang on my elbow. So I’m usually frustrated with it. Like I went through ALL THAT and still have huge arms. Really? This shit was so expensive too!

Also, when you compare my other surgeries, those are just far more impressive. I had a stomach pouch for years even after I lost weight so tummy tuck — huge. And boobs — they make every single outfit look better. Combine those two, and there’s so much oomph! This is the only time in my whole life where my breasts have stuck out further than my stomach. Seriously. I’m pretty sure I was fat before I grew breasts, so yeah. I mean the abdomen is just a complete overhaul. The difference is amazing. So yeah, I’m usually not too jazzed about the arms in comparison. Also huge scars. I’m not terribly bothered by the scars but I am disappointed that they looked like they would be so perfect and neat right after surgery but have since expanded.

HOWEVER (yes, in all caps), if you look at old photos, the arms do look hella better. They’re not all floppy either. There was a good bit of skin removed there. Before this, I’d never have worn a tank top to work. I’d CERTAINLY never have considered a tattoo sleeve. Fat flabby arms can’t have tattoo sleeves. Now that I have tighter arms and working on a fucking fabulous tattoo sleeve, I’m all about some tank tops.

Whenever an ad for a sale at Lane Bryant or Torrid pops up, I’m like “do they have any work-appropriate tanks tops?” I have a smallish collection of work tank tops hanging in my closet now. They’re my favorite to wear. I gotta show of my sweet tat.

I know it’s a work in progress. I can’t wait till we do the shoulder! But it’s nice and substantial and damn cool already. Hopefully, it greatly detracts from my balding head and acne/hairy/PCOS chin. No seriously, I’m having big issues about feeling ugly so let’s all look at the boobs and tattoo. Oooooooo.

I’m so so so glad it has my Jack in it. I miss him so much. I rub between his eyes and tell him I miss him. (He liked having me scratch right between his eyes sometimes). So I do frequently look at it and touch his little face. And people love it.

Almost everywhere I go, someone comments on it. Seriously. Just about everywhere. “Love your tattoo!” “Gorgeous tattoo!” “Who did your tattoo?” “Is that a cat!?” “Where’d you get it done?” “That work is amazing.” “Holy shit! I love it!” It’s a hype piece. A conversation starter for sure. I love it! Nearly everywhere I go, it’s mentioned.

(And yeah, hopefully it’s drawing attention away from my face. Look at my cleavage or something.)

It’s a Trap!

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | Leave a Comment on It’s a Trap!

This is the third time I’ve received one of these emails:

Planet Fitness wants to know how likely I am to recommend them to others. Simple, click a number. OK. But then, it’s going to take me to a survey. And that survey will ask me if I have any comments. OF COURSE I have comments. The last two times I replied with meaningful and helpful suggestions. Do you know what happened?

Those motherfuckers CALLED ME. ON. MY. PHONE. What in gods name made them think that I wanted the local Planet Fitness to call me about my feedback? NO. Fix your shit. That’s what I want. I want more barbells and for you to kick stragglers off the 30 minute circuit that are hogging the machines. I don’t want to talk to you. Fuck.

Pregnant or Fat Until Proven Innocent

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | Leave a Comment on Pregnant or Fat Until Proven Innocent

Friday I had to see my dermatologist. I’ve been on medication to thicken up my hair for about a year now. Last summer, I had a ton of growth around my head, but not up top where it shows most. Comparison of photos from last year confirms this. So he thought we could do even better and put me on a different stronger medication. He doesn’t start people on it because it long lasting, which means it takes a long time to get out of your system if it fucks you up. But since I’ve not had any side effects from the others, he was ok with it. It’s another “For Men ONLY.” one. So he verified with me, again, that I can’t get pregnant. Cause it fucks up the babies.

So having just acquired a cat, I’m getting all his records and shit, right? And this doctor is just taking me at my word that I’ve been “fixed.” So hear me out here. We’re already walking around with vaccine cards from Covid now, right? We’re half way there. Give me a little metal tag to put on my key chain that says I’ve been fixed. So when I go to the doctor and they’re like “pee in this cup,” I can jiggle my key chain and go no thank you!

Cause the doctors always think you’re pregnant. I get that it’s probably a big lawsuit thing, but no matter what you’re at the doctor for — you’re peeing in that cup. I could have my arm ripped off and be holding it in my other arm and they’d want to make sure I wasn’t pregnant. When I had my gallbladder out, I couldn’t pee because they hadn’t let me have fluids for 24 hours (thank GOD they’re updating those rules) and the doctor got mad and asked the nurses why I wasn’t ready. “She can’t pee.” So they did a cath FOR A PREGNANCY TEST. Give me the keychain. Hell, use the cute red hearts like the rabies tags.

‘Cause any ailment on a female is because they’re pregnant or fat. Both of these things must be ruled out before you are considered for any treatments. Who gives a fuck if you’re dying. Have you considered losing weight? ALL the doctors ask that. “Have you considered losing weight?” Like no, that never occurred to me, actually, why do you bring it up? My dermatologist asked this Friday and I was like “I used to be 400lbs.” And he was stunned. Then I was like “I’ve lost 15lbs in the last year.” So then he shut up. But man if it isn’t always babies or you’re just fat.

Oh and while we’re handing out official medical tags (not those bracelets you can lie on cause you buy them yourself — I want official issued tags), I want a “high pain tolerance” one. Like I’ve decided for minor shit, I’m probably going to go to urgent care rather than my real doctor. We have a doctor shortage right now, so all the doctors are swamped. And the urgent care isn’t bad. But if something hurts, I gotta see my doc. ‘Cause he’s treated me for 20 years and he knows if I say it hurts, I aint lying. He’s seen me in states where he’s like “I don’t know how you’re just walking around right now.” New doctors think you want pain meds if you say it hurts. And I’m like listen, you don’t have to give me pain meds, I’m telling you it hurts because it motherfucking hurts and I feel this is vital to your diagnosis.

So yes, I’d like an official “fixed” tag (which should also net me discounts like it does for pets) and a “high pain tolerance” tag, please. Thank you.

Mammograms Don’t Hurt

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | Leave a Comment on Mammograms Don’t Hurt

I work a 9/80 schedule. That means I work my 80 hours over nine days instead of the usual ten. So I get every other Friday off. Long weekend! Not really. Everything ends up getting scheduled for that Friday off. So yesterday was a LOT.

I met with the lawyer at 10. Our lawsuit is OVER! (Kinda mostly.) I signed over the settlement check and he wrote me a check for our cut. So we paid him, plus all the stuff like depositions, and he handled negotiating BCBS down to like half of what they paid and sent them their check. The only catch is, we didn’t pay back disability. I had short term disability for two months and the contract you sign states that if there’s ever a settlement, you have to pay them back. Well, we weren’t allowed to bring that up in court. So my lawyer wants to argue that I don’t have to pay it. He sent them a letter over a month ago and they haven’t replied back. So he gave me three options: Just send them a check for the full amount out of my good heart, let him keep negotiating (though he hasn’t heard from them), or just leave it be and wait to hear from them. He recommended and I chose the latter. The contract states that if they do come after me for their money, he still represents me and will negotiate with them. So yeah, IT’S OVER!

Oh, and it was tornado weather. So it was windy as FUCK. So after the lawyer I came home to take a nap, but kept getting alerted by the phone and weather radio for a million things. We were fine tough. Just a trashcan in the yard.

At 1:00, I had to go to the gynecologist. This is always fun. Men don’t have to put up with this shit. I made the appointment because I had been having a lot of pelvic pain and thought maybe my IUD had shifted. So they took my back for an ultrasound. Had me undress (yes, guys — the ultrasound is done from the inside) and did their thing. Then they had me get dressed and moved me to another room for the doctor where I had to undress again. I think this was kinda stupid. Like I’m already naked and up here on an exam table, why we gotta do this twice? Why did I just get dressed?

So I haven’t seen the GYN since I had my tubes removed which means I was way over due for a checkup and a pap smear. So of course we had to do all that. I didn’t mean to not get my pap smears, I just kinda forgot that was a thing I had to do. I have a lot of doctors, okay? So I was toying with having my IUD taken out because I obviously don’t need it, so why have it? A few people had recommended I do an ablation to get rid of periods instead. (I’m writing this as an informative subject, if you’re wondering why I’m writing this). So an ablation would burn out my uterine lining and well, if that’s gone, no periods! My doctor said we could totally do that if I wanted, but she didn’t recommend it. She says it can mask uterine cancer. So stay with the IUD it is.

She also mentioned that now that I’m 40, it’s time for mammograms. I told her I didn’t think I could do mammograms because I have implants. I was wrong. She asked when my last one was. Never. She was shocked that I didn’t have one before my implants. I shrugged. Apparently, this really surprised her because she mentioned it again later in the appointment. Anyway, she gave me the paperwork to schedule the appointment and I went back out to the waiting area to drink water so I could pee in a cup.

Oh yeah, if you’re gonna make me pee in a cup, I need ADVANCED NOTICE. I don’t know if all yall have some special muscle that lets you pee on command, but I do not. If I don’t have to pee, I can’t. So they told me to pee in a cup and I was like, “I’m not pregnant.” Apparently, they check for a lot more than just that so I wasn’t getting out of it. But I had just gone to the bathroom when I left the house — like normal people do. So I had to wait in the waiting room and drink 64 ounces of water.

While I was in the waiting room, I decided to bite the bullet and schedule the mammogram. I knew if I didn’t, I’d put if off forever. I call them up and I’m like “hey, what are the odds I can get in today?” So they called the clinic and surprise! Can I be there in 10 minutes? AWESOME. So I peed in the cup and left.

Turns out the mammogram place is literally next door to my GYN. I thought they meant a building over, but they meant the same hallway. So time to do this. I’ve always heard mammograms hurt. They smush your boobs in between two plates to take pictures and it’s horrible (supposedly). So I was not enthused. I told the person this. She had me put my fist on the machine and clamped it down to show me how much pressure there would be. Instant relief. WTF? Who complained about this? We really need a counter campaign to let woman know this is not a big deal. It doesn’t hurt at all! If you’ve had sex, you’ve had your boobs squeezed so you know what it feels like. Is it awkward? Hell yes. Is it pleasant (when a machine does it)? Nope. Is it painful? Not at all. Every year we have stuff shoved up our vaginas for exams but women are complaining about breast pictures? Suck it up. I just had three different tools shoved up my vagina while I was naked and in stirrups and let the doctor feel me up — that was WAY WORSE than some pictures of my boobs.

Oh and the mammogram lady was shocked I’d never had one. “They put implants in you without doing a mammogram?” Yep. She couldn’t believe it — especially “at [my] age.” So apparently, that’s a thing. How was I supposed to know? Ladies, if you get implants — do a mammogram first. It’s a thing, apparently. Oh and the lady said I was insanely lucky they had an opening. It usually takes 2-3 months to schedule a mammogram but so many people had canceled because of the weather (and school being closed) that they had openings. Cosmic alignment win!

So then I picked up some Chicken Salad Chick for myself and K. I’m not usually on that side of town, so if I am, I pick up a large container of Olivia’s Old South for sandwiches. Then I ran in Target for some Lily’s chocolate chips for brownies. I was gonna go by Publix, but at Target I could get quest pizzas! They were out of the chocolate chips and their freezer section was closed. God dammit. But I did use their restroom because, yall, I drank a lot of water in that waiting room.

Then I took the lawyers check to the bank. I was worried because that side of town had lost power (remember, it’s tornado weather). They were back up though! So I got to deposit the check and even got them to write me a cashiers check so I could pay for the air conditioner repairs. All the money is going straight to the mortgage. Mr C does not believe in debt. So we gotta pay off the house before we do anything else. He said I can get a new car when we pay it off though! Of course he specified we have to save for the car and not take out a loan. But still, once the house is paid off, we’ll be saving a ton each month so it won’t take long. I wanna get a hybrid cross-over or small SUV. So that’s something to look forward to! He’s the one who needs a new car but he doesn’t want one. I don’t wanna drive a tiny car anymore. I wanna win in a car wreck. I’d totally drive a truck, but a small SUV would be way more functional. Also, cheaper than a truck.

So then I dropped off K’s chicken salad (she likes the one with the cranberries — ew) and I renewed our car tags online. Plus I baked brownies. How fucking productive was I? I did ALL. THE. THINGS. I was so proud of myself! Now I’m not gonna get dressed today. I earned it.

So ladies, remember: MAMMOGRAMS AREN’T PAINFUL. It doesn’t hurt! Insurance covers them! Go get them when your doctor says to!