Saturday, November 22, 2014

dead needles waiting

What in the crap happened?  I just have to remember...oh hey THERE'S the dang scarf thing I was looking for!  I once knitted this ugly infinity scarf, just to practice knitting on round needles, and to jump back in pool of yarn, so to speak.   But I'm kind of opposed to using crap wool that's made from crude oil, so I went with this beautiful teal, 100% wool stuff, and grabbed a pattern off the internets.  Then I threw a couple of colors in there because since I didn't know what I was doing, I figured I couldn't screw it up any more.  Well, it turned out itchy and ugly and I never even bothered blocking it.  But since it's all wool, now I'm going to felt it, cut it up, and see how many mason jar cozies I can get out of it.  Looking at it now, it should be a totally great looking felt mason jar cozy.  Who knew a year ago?!

That is not the one chore I would have chosen to do a year ago, if I could go back.  It would definitely be gardening.  Or maybe NOT getting the great infection of Dec '13 from which I have never truly recovered.  Being back on Botox has made a huge difference in rescue med days per month as compared to not being on Botox, but I've leveled out and worse, seem to be climbing back up.  Since progress is often cumulative, this could just be a setback.  My latest round hasn't even kicked in yet so I believe it will get better, which is good to remember.  But Sasha's back to a daily migraine, and my helpful relatives who suggest I take her to a new neurologist, I never see hide nor hair of tho' we live in the same town.  We are all effed up, and busy as hell.

I understand, this is all single moms.  This is all migraineurs.  This is all corn-allergics in multiple food-allergy families.  This is all food-allergy moms.  This is all humans.  God, we must be in the same boat, right?  Everyone needs council, and help, and medicine.  I do understand we are the shittier side of the American end of things, but we're not part of the 1 Billion humans who go to bed hungry every night.  Well, Sasha does sometimes, but only bc the abundant food is poisonous. But somewhere in there I'm still fending off a migraine and a panic attack over insidious insurance situations, with medical marijuana.  I'd much rather be processing tomatoes before the season ends and I have to figure out what else doesn't kill Sasha.  But I mean, yay I found the scarf.

I sometimes wonder if people think we're doing better than we are because we in general do kick ass, and because no one is dead yet.  I sometimes think that maybe we're more normal than it seems and maybe just having migraine make it seem worse.  Of course, then I try to have a conversation with someone, which generally doesn't go over very smoothly.

Oh wait, there was time change.  There was fall back on Nov 2, and then there was Botox which always triggers a migraine and then there was hormone week and then there was early pick-up for a damn week and a half and there were storms on and off and no fucking wonder I've had a migraine this whole goddamn month piece of shit!  I feel like 10,000 butterflies just exploded from the angry power of my mind.  I hate everything, there is no reason for this or to this, there is no stopping or controlling it.  I call bullshit.  BULLSHIT!!!

You know, I learned and re-learned some good skills knitting that ugly, itchy infinity scarf.  And then I started knitting a gorgeous, rainbow entrelac scarf.  And then I got way too sick to finish bc even though entrelac isn't super complicated, it's a teensy bit complicated and after the great infection of Dec '13, I could totally not keep up.  So then sometime after I had sufficiently recovered, I started a super easy baby blanket that is literally one stitch over and over.  And because of this past year, I'm nowhere close to finishing and can't remember the last time I picked it up.  And also insurance owes me thousands of dollars.

I often wonder if Sasha is going to survive childhood, and if I'm going to survive Sasha's childhood.  It feels like we both have a terminal illness, and I'm just going through life trying to make us suffer as little as possible until the inevitable.  But maybe I'm just completely defeated from a rough (several) year(s).  Surely recovery has to start somewhere...


Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Didn't vote, don't care

I feel better?  I felt better.  I briefly felt better about feeling worse but now there has been a tornado, a wrecker.  Nothing we can't recover from and for the love of God we've been through it so many times you'd think YOU'D THINK I could just keep stepping, right in time.

I can't even have normal conversations with people anymore.  How do you ascend or descend or transcend whatever situation you're in and explain that you lost salt, pepper, and oil, and in not feeding those to Sasha you somehow made her have a lovely new breakout/psychofest complete with two days of migraine so far?  It's not so bad we lost all the foodstores for winter or anything,  but I did lose some stuff and losing ANY stuff pisses me off bad.  Some stuff is possibly, probably salvageable but it will need to be salvaged, of course while scrambling and praying that I can:

1. Find the source of the original problem causing a very minor breakout and behaviorfest.
2. Acquire food that does NOT bring back the bigger breakout/psychofest.
3. Make new safe salt once my blocks arrive tomorrow without extending the migraine to day 5.

It's tempting to just say, "holy shit, we're fucked."  Is the room a little spinny, in here, to you?  I'm missing a funeral this weekend.  Kind of a bummer.  She was a mentor and a friend, and we used to be very, very close.  Also the girls' dad is hounding me for information and I finally got around to telling him tonight that I was a tad busy so maybe he could complete the One Job he had with regard to said information.  Is it warm in here, a little bit?  I need to do some paperwork to get refunded money from insurance assholes, and they even sent me extra copies in case I mess it up, but considering the amount of meds I'm on and my track record with screwing up paperwork while having to think clearly with 25 shit-tons of life-threatening things to take care of, I'm not sure right now is a good time to do it.

I think we caught a break though.  I don't think the beans are what gave Sasha the new bigger breakout-psycho-migrainefest.   And they're definitely not what caused the original minor breakout-behaviorfest.  Bonus, she'll eat those plain as poop 'till the cows dress for school and THEN come home.  FINGERS CROSSED EVERYONE, I WANT EVERYONE'S FINGERS CROSSED RIGHT EFFING NOW!!!

I just, I don't care who wins any elections because no one will touch what's wrong with the food, which is the root of so many of our problems, health and healthcare being one of the biggest.  No one cares about the truth.  And some year when my family isn't dying, I'll do my research and decide who sucks less.  I have absolutely beyond zero research to spare.  I have to have a lesser migraine to make salt tomorrow, I must try not to kill Sasha with it, and in my spare time I've really gotta keep Emily alive.  I vote schools stop doing food-centric activities OMGalready...#effingholidayseason