9.26.2005

I Think He's Avoiding Me

For anyone who possibly reads this at all, I'm sorry I've been so whiny lately, but I am having a very very bad few months. And I haven't talked to Brian in quite a while now, so that's not helping at all.

9.19.2005

Screwed Up

Brian came to visit me this weekend, and well, I guess that I wasn't in perfect control of myself. I was okay on day one, nothing untoward, just a nice day together...and then I manage to screw it all up on the second day by bursting into tears no more than twenty minutes before he was supposed to leave. I was expecting to cry, but not until after he left. Gah. He started talking about finding me someone, and you'd think he'd know by now that that's a surefire way to set me off...but he'd been teasing me earlier about it and I was okay, so I guess he thought he could go further with it.
Yeah...it's not his fault. So now I made him sad that being around him makes me cry, though it's really only when he starts going on about me finding someone new. So we didn't part too well, and now I'm all anxious, cuz he hasn't been online since...gah...I almost wish I could find a way to slip him the blog address, so he could just read what I'm thinking instead of trying to figure it out on his own...
It's so damn complicated. I love him, he's realized that he has feelings for me that he can't deny, but has no idea what they actually are, and neither one of us feels comfortable trying to date other people. Because we are not together, but then we're not exactly apart either. I think part of the reason it hurts when he tries to get me to go fishing is that (to me anyway) it seems like he's trying to get me out of the way. I know better, but...wouldn't it be easier for him to go find someone new if I couldn't do anything about it, being attached to someone else?
I gave him the box, too.

9.07.2005

Icky Medical Stuff Follows. Read At Own Risk.

For the past week or so, I have been battling an increasingly horrible sore throat. I mean, really really sucky, and also very painful. I mean, so freaking painful that I literally stopped eating and drank very very little. It hurt so much I couldn't sleep at all. Plus, I was working eight hour days and going to class. Why? No idea. Plain out stubborness? So anyway, was completely losing my voice as well, so work, of course, decided to put me on the headset or in a position where I'd have to talk to lots of people constantly. Sooo. Let's look at the factors here.
A. Malnourished Ky
B. Sleep-Deprived Ky
C. Nearly Voiceless Ky
D. Ky In Major Pain
I finally had a doctor's appointment scheduled, and went to three classes while constantly nodding off, and also desperately trying to drink some apple juice. By the last one, I gave up on my voice and held up a sign saying "Throat very very sore. Cannot speak. Doctor's appointment after class." and my teacher nodded and allowed me to participate in discussion with hastily written notes. Man is he awesome.
So yes, doctor. Go sign in, get handed stuff to fill out, which I do, cuz I was the adult! ...Even if my mom was there. But, then again, I couldn't speak.
We get sent back to another room with more stuff, which I fill out. Then to a pediactric decorated room. Gah. And I was so hoping to be all adult about it. At least it looked nice. Dinosaurs and stuff.
Nurse does my weight and blood pressure. I dunno what my blood pressure ended up being, but my weight was somewhere around 150, which freaked me the hell out. I didn't realize that I was losing weight by...not eating...y'know, on second thought I prolly should have, but I had other things on my mind at the time besides losing weight.
Anyways, doctor finally shows up, asks me to open my mouth, which I do, quite painfully. He asks me to do it again, using one of those icky popsicle stick things to hold down my tongue(I really really hate those...) and then sighed and sat back, and announces that I have an abcessed tonsil.
What the hell?
He explains that somehow my normal sore throat had passed, but infection had built up behind my right tonsil. Creating a huge hurting area which he was amazed I hadn't come for help about sooner.
Worst outlook? Tonsillectomy. Mild freakout ensues after he leaves to get an ENT doc's referral sheet, of course. I still thought it was all just a really bad sore throat. Gah. Anyway, at this point I've given up any and all pretense at being the adult in the situation, letting Mom take over.
And we go off to the ENT doc. This poor guy...it was around 5 pm at this point, so I imagine I was his last patient...he was incredibly direct. He has me in the back soon as we step in the door, in the chair a moment later, and my mouth open in the first ten minutes, spraying that topical anathesia stuff, which I wasn't expecting and so promptly spit out, so he does it again. Then I hear plastic stuff coming off something and freeze.
Giant syringe. Oh hell.
Now, I know most kids do not like shots, or poky things in general. I was phobic about shots, syringes. I mean, the only reason my ears are pierced is because it was done before I was four, and therefore I was unaware of it. I love my parents so much for that. On the other hand, I remember when I was getting blood drawn for the first time, as a little little girl, and requiring at least four doctors to hold me down, with a nurse offering me juice in an incredibly panicked tone. I just screamed and screamed til they were done. Then I drank my juice.
Mom takes away my glasses, reasoning that if I can't see it, I can't freak out. Way to go Mom. Now I'm blind and mute. And then the needle goes in.
I don't like shots without the topical anathesia. I don't like them with it, either. This felt like half and half and I had to hold my own freaking mouth open. Finally there's a whooshy sound and I feel it slide out, so I cease my panicked breathing and open my eyes cautiously as the doc tells me to spit. I see blood in the bottom of the bowl, and look up at the syringe. Yes there is blood in it, but it is also 2/3 full of yellowish gunk, which he cheerfully informs me is pus from the infection. I nod weakly. And then he repeats this process. It hurts more this time. Dunno why. Then I get handed a cup and go to the sink and rinse out my mouth til I can't see any more blood. (Which was a waste of time, I was spitting out blood for like an hour...)
And then I find that I can speak. Clumsily, yes, but I CAN TALK. Also...I can swallow. Freaking awesome.
Then I get put on 3 kinds of meds, all liquid, all tasting awful, the doctor informs me. During the visit, he admires my pain tolerance like five times. No, really, like, "Wow. Since Friday? What a high pain threshold." "The last kid we had in here like this was moaning on the floor. Your daughter must have such tolerance for pain!" ...I dunno if he was hunting for my secret (stubborn bloodymindedness) or worried that there was some reason I had such high thresholds or what...But I'm just relieved at this point to be, y'know, swallow-capable. Cuz I was starting to realize just how hungry I was.
The medicines really aren't all that bad. We ended up getting pills for the antibiotics cuz the pharmacy was out of the liquid (and I didn't have problems swallowing them anyway) and the liquid anti-swelling stuff is kinda sweet but not overy objectionable. The painkiller stuff...no idea. It says take as needed and there's been no need.
So right now, I can sleep and eat and have work off til Monday. I'm one happy Ky.