I'm really not okay right now.
Physically, I'm a wreck. I can't keep my joints in to save my life. I'm on an on-and-off liquid diet, depending on when my jaw wants to cooperate. Just writing my notes and homework is killing my fingers, hand, and shoulder, all of which are slipping out over seemingly nothing. I'm having a hard time keeping up with things, and I'm only taking two classes. The pain is rapidly cycling between not-too-bad and absurdly-beyond-bearable. To top it off, I'm sick as shit with double ear and sinus infections. The past 5 days have consisted of high fever, puking, feeling like my face is going to explode, dizziness that would cripple the most graceful creature, and a perpetual taste of infected snot. So now I'm even farther behind because I've missed two days of work and class. Fuck.
Emotionally, I'm even worse. My disability has had be beyond depressed lately. In 6.5 hours, I go for one of the most monumental appointments of my entire life: a trip to the Ehlers-Danlos genetic specialist. In a 2-hour appointment, I'll be handed my life-long prognosis. I'm so fucking scared. And, to top it off, Andrew and I are fighting. Of course.
I'm at my wits' end with him. No, I'm still not okay with you talking to Lindsay. I don't like or respect her. She has not contributed to one ounce of good in your life or mine. She (along with your shitty behavior) had me completely on-edge for the first half of our relationship. Once you finally took her off that pedestal, you lied to me about talking to her. You were a two-faced asshole for months and months, talking to her behind my back while calling her an endless list of derogatory names to my face. Once you finally picked a side and admitted to lying to me, you blamed everything on me: my insecurities are my reasons for disliking her, my unwarranted lack of trust in you keeps me from allowing you to talk to her, my unwillingness to compromise on the issue is why you had to lie to me. No. I admit that I have insecurities. I admit that I've been less than happy about having to reach a compromise. But I've been the one pushing for compromise. I've been the one admitting my faults. Take a good, long look in the mirror tell me you're innocent. I'm so sick of this entire relationship being on your terms. You get to talk to Lindsay. You had the final say in the apartment issue. You determined when we talked while you were in California. And when I actually put my foot down and said that I needed to talk to you at an earlier time and started going to bed on my own schedule, you got angry with me, said I'm being intentionally distant. Then you tell me to be more assertive. I'm sick of this entire relationship being on your schedule, and I'm sick of feeling like the bad guy. Your reasons for wanting to talk to her are stupid. It's not because you care about her or are curious about her. It's not because you want a friendship. It's because keeping contact with an ex helps keep your faith in love, that love is some eternal bond that means you'll always care about a person. Bullshit. I haven't talked to Pat in forever. Does that mean I never loved him? Or that my definition of love is twisted? Love means eternal care, not eternal contact. And I understand that, on principal, I shouldn't dictate who you talk to. I completely agree with that. However, I believe that there are extenuating circumstances, like talking to your ex when your past with her has been nothing but shady. I just wish you didn't care about her, at all. I wish she meant so little to you that you wouldn't bother returning the IMs or texts she sends you. I wish you'd listen to me and put me first for once. After two years, I feel you owe me that much.
I'm not going to lie, the disability thing is really fucking with my head. I guess I'll find out how extreme everything is tomorrow, but just knowing that I'll be battling this the rest of my life makes me feel like less of a person. I feel guilty for being with Andrew when he had no clue that things were this bad. There are other repercussions of EDS aside from my constant dislocations which could have serious consequences to a committed relationship, but I'll go into that more when I have the official prognosis tomorrow.
When I argued that Andrew does a shitty job of expressing his love for me, he cited that standing by me despite my diagnosis and the possible repercussions should show his devotion. I can't remember the last time I've felt so horribly ambivalent about a statement. Part of me loves this, thinks he's absolutely right, that it takes a lot to stand by a cripple. Part of me wants to tear his head off. First, it shouldn't take a disability for you to prove that you're devoted. Second, and more importantly, what makes you think you deserve some gold fucking star for dating a cripple? If you think it's hard to stand beside me, try being me. My body is not my fault. Yes, the insecurities and short-tempered demeanor that come with it are my fault. But here's the difference: I've stayed with you despite all of the mistakes you've willingly made in this relationship, and you're staying with me despite something that is entirely out of my control. Which requires more inner strength?
I can't decide if I'm just overly emotional because of everything else going on or if everything I'm upset about is justified. It's 3:13 a.m. I have to be up at 6 to go to U of M hospital. I've spent the past hour and a half venting to some amazing friends, new and old. They vented, too. It was a very therapeutic night. Everyone I talked to agreed that I'm completely in the right. Even better, I listened to relationship stories that were no better than mine, people who are making similar decisions and staying in their relationships even if it may not seem like the healthiest decision. I feel more secure. Regardless of how this turns out, I know I won't be alone in my decision. Living in this house with these people is, surprisingly, the best decision I've made in a long time.
Physically, I'm a wreck. I can't keep my joints in to save my life. I'm on an on-and-off liquid diet, depending on when my jaw wants to cooperate. Just writing my notes and homework is killing my fingers, hand, and shoulder, all of which are slipping out over seemingly nothing. I'm having a hard time keeping up with things, and I'm only taking two classes. The pain is rapidly cycling between not-too-bad and absurdly-beyond-bearable. To top it off, I'm sick as shit with double ear and sinus infections. The past 5 days have consisted of high fever, puking, feeling like my face is going to explode, dizziness that would cripple the most graceful creature, and a perpetual taste of infected snot. So now I'm even farther behind because I've missed two days of work and class. Fuck.
Emotionally, I'm even worse. My disability has had be beyond depressed lately. In 6.5 hours, I go for one of the most monumental appointments of my entire life: a trip to the Ehlers-Danlos genetic specialist. In a 2-hour appointment, I'll be handed my life-long prognosis. I'm so fucking scared. And, to top it off, Andrew and I are fighting. Of course.
I'm at my wits' end with him. No, I'm still not okay with you talking to Lindsay. I don't like or respect her. She has not contributed to one ounce of good in your life or mine. She (along with your shitty behavior) had me completely on-edge for the first half of our relationship. Once you finally took her off that pedestal, you lied to me about talking to her. You were a two-faced asshole for months and months, talking to her behind my back while calling her an endless list of derogatory names to my face. Once you finally picked a side and admitted to lying to me, you blamed everything on me: my insecurities are my reasons for disliking her, my unwarranted lack of trust in you keeps me from allowing you to talk to her, my unwillingness to compromise on the issue is why you had to lie to me. No. I admit that I have insecurities. I admit that I've been less than happy about having to reach a compromise. But I've been the one pushing for compromise. I've been the one admitting my faults. Take a good, long look in the mirror tell me you're innocent. I'm so sick of this entire relationship being on your terms. You get to talk to Lindsay. You had the final say in the apartment issue. You determined when we talked while you were in California. And when I actually put my foot down and said that I needed to talk to you at an earlier time and started going to bed on my own schedule, you got angry with me, said I'm being intentionally distant. Then you tell me to be more assertive. I'm sick of this entire relationship being on your schedule, and I'm sick of feeling like the bad guy. Your reasons for wanting to talk to her are stupid. It's not because you care about her or are curious about her. It's not because you want a friendship. It's because keeping contact with an ex helps keep your faith in love, that love is some eternal bond that means you'll always care about a person. Bullshit. I haven't talked to Pat in forever. Does that mean I never loved him? Or that my definition of love is twisted? Love means eternal care, not eternal contact. And I understand that, on principal, I shouldn't dictate who you talk to. I completely agree with that. However, I believe that there are extenuating circumstances, like talking to your ex when your past with her has been nothing but shady. I just wish you didn't care about her, at all. I wish she meant so little to you that you wouldn't bother returning the IMs or texts she sends you. I wish you'd listen to me and put me first for once. After two years, I feel you owe me that much.
I'm not going to lie, the disability thing is really fucking with my head. I guess I'll find out how extreme everything is tomorrow, but just knowing that I'll be battling this the rest of my life makes me feel like less of a person. I feel guilty for being with Andrew when he had no clue that things were this bad. There are other repercussions of EDS aside from my constant dislocations which could have serious consequences to a committed relationship, but I'll go into that more when I have the official prognosis tomorrow.
When I argued that Andrew does a shitty job of expressing his love for me, he cited that standing by me despite my diagnosis and the possible repercussions should show his devotion. I can't remember the last time I've felt so horribly ambivalent about a statement. Part of me loves this, thinks he's absolutely right, that it takes a lot to stand by a cripple. Part of me wants to tear his head off. First, it shouldn't take a disability for you to prove that you're devoted. Second, and more importantly, what makes you think you deserve some gold fucking star for dating a cripple? If you think it's hard to stand beside me, try being me. My body is not my fault. Yes, the insecurities and short-tempered demeanor that come with it are my fault. But here's the difference: I've stayed with you despite all of the mistakes you've willingly made in this relationship, and you're staying with me despite something that is entirely out of my control. Which requires more inner strength?
I can't decide if I'm just overly emotional because of everything else going on or if everything I'm upset about is justified. It's 3:13 a.m. I have to be up at 6 to go to U of M hospital. I've spent the past hour and a half venting to some amazing friends, new and old. They vented, too. It was a very therapeutic night. Everyone I talked to agreed that I'm completely in the right. Even better, I listened to relationship stories that were no better than mine, people who are making similar decisions and staying in their relationships even if it may not seem like the healthiest decision. I feel more secure. Regardless of how this turns out, I know I won't be alone in my decision. Living in this house with these people is, surprisingly, the best decision I've made in a long time.
- I feel:
indescribable
This is going to be the longest post I've ever written. I should have periodically updated during the program, but the whole thing was such a whirlwind. The Chronic Pain Rehabilitation Program (CPRP) completely changed my life. It was the most physically, mentally, and emotionally draining experience of my life to date. I don't particularly expect people to read this novel, but I wanted to write it for myself.
( Here goes... )
( Here goes... )
- I feel:
bored
Holy.shit.
So I've officially been in rehab for two days. The Chronic Pain Rehabilitation Program (CPRP) at the Cleveland Clinic. President Obama was here today, but things were all barricaded. Anywho, CPRP is not at all what I envisioned it'd be. I thought it'd be a lot more physical therapy and a lot less...rehab-like. It's definitely rehab. Most of the people here are in the Chemically Dependent (CD) track. The CD group has to go through a 12-step program and are weaned off of all medication. There are about 15 of us total, CD and non-CD. I'm obviously non-CD since I've taken Vicodin once in the past two months. The program takes up most of my day; I leave the hotel (which is just off the Clinic's campus) at 7:15 and get back just after 6 Monday through Friday. The program mixes physical therapy, occupational therapy, group and individual psychotherapy, biofeedback, coping skills training, and pain management medication.
After 7 years of PT, I didn't have high hopes for things, but I can already feel a slight improvement. And occupational therapy (OT) taught me today that using a lumbar pillow drastically reduces my pain while driving and sitting in some chairs. Something about the way it presses on the spine and alters your alignment. It's amazing. The psychiatrists feel the need to dig out every skeleton in my closet, which I'm really not okay with, but since my pain has been around for my entire conscious life, most of my memories are intertwined with my physical pain. I hate crying in front of people. I already have most of the "coping skills" they teach mastered (i.e. keeping busy to distract yourself from the pain, deep breathing to get through the worst of it, etc.). It's the only way I've been able to steer away from a Vicodin addiction, and seeing these guys going through withdrawal is making me very grateful for making the decisions I have. They've started me on Cymbalta and Neurontin, neuropathic/non-opioid pain medicines that double as antidepressants. Though they make me nauseous, I'm thankful for them. I am a little concerned because dependence can occur on these meds, nowhere near the severity of opioid dependence, but it still makes me hesitant. And you cannot take these meds while pregnant or trying for pregnancy, which I don't like. Regardless, they should help take the edge off for now without knocking me out or getting me hooked.
I'm meeting a lot of interesting people here, too. Some I think are full of shit. If you walk out of here "cured" after the 3-week program, you weren't fucking disabled. But a fair chunk of these people definitely have it worse than I do, and it makes me grateful that I'm not paralyzed or blind or have a high spinal chord injury that has fucked up my entire nervous system. I can still grip a fork to eat. And I can stand up on my own. I'm lucky. The CPRP emphasizes the importance of being a person rather than a patient. Most of us with chronic pain become obsessed with it and only see ourselves as a disability. When we first meet up, we instantly exchange stories about surgeries, doctors, misdiagnoses, and our years of pain and being treated as some crazy outsider. I feel normal here, which is a new feeling for me. However, they strongly discourage us from talking about our pain with each other to keep us from dwelling on it. "Pain" is a 4-letter word in the Clinic, and it isn't to be used. They also don't respond to our "pain behavior", so if I'm deep breathing or rubbing my leg or crying or whatever because of the pain, they won't acknowledge it. Which is weird. They have amazing poker faces, but the staff is amazing, and everyone is super laid back and has an awesome sense of humor.
Of course, we can't help but be curious and ask each other about our conditions when we're away from the staff, namely in the cafeteria for lunch. As part of my "initiation" to the lunch table, I was asked about my pain and medical history. After I gave them the brief overview and had to shamefully admit that no one knows what's wrong and that I have no diagnosis, one woman piped up and asked me if I had a series of other strange symptoms. I had all of them. She suggested I look up the genetic condition Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. She has it. I'd seen it before on Discovery Health Channel, but didn't think it applied to me. When I got back to my hotel room today, I looked it up. There are 6 types of Ehlers-Danlos. Unfortunately, that poor woman has the one type that shortens your life-span, Type 4. I looked through all of the symptom lists for each Type, and completely froze after reading the Type 3 description. Type 3 is called Hypermobility Type. It is characterized by hypermobile joints, frequent dislocations and subluxations, flat feet, dental crowding, easy bruising, muscle weakness (even moreso in cold), early onset of osteoarthritis, and cardiac effects, namely mitral valve prolapse. All of my joints are hypermobile. I've dislocated or subluxed nearly every major joint. I have horribly flat feet. The whole reason I got braces was from dental crowding, and they've recrowded since my braces have been removed. My yellow arm from having blood drawn today is a demonstration of my easy bruising. I have chronic muscle weakness, which is why I've needed years of PT, and it's definitely worse in winter. I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis when I was 11. And I was diagnosed with mitral valve prolapse in high school. I fit every symptom to a T. Never have I ever experienced this, and I've spent the past 12 years searching like crazy, looking up everything I could think of. And the pain this woman experiences sounds just like mine.
Now I just need an official diagnosis. There are no real tests for this genetic condition, so it's diagnosed via medical history and observation. If I could leave here with a diagnosis, I could go home with closure, and that would be the biggest step toward recovery I've ever had. The good news: Type 4 Ehlers-Danlos does not affect life-span and isn't seriously degenerative, so I wouldn't get much worse. The bad news: It's associated with chronic pain (which I obviously have) and there is no real treatment or cure. The best I can do is keep breathing, keep exercising to combat the muscle weakness which accentuates my pain, and live with it. But I honestly think I could live with this pain as long as I knew for sure that it wasn't life- or limb-threatening, that I'll live a full life, and that I've done everything I could to minimize it. I need a diagnosis to close this 12-year chapter in my life. I'm sick of playing detective.
Life is...crazy. But I think it's starting to look up.
So I've officially been in rehab for two days. The Chronic Pain Rehabilitation Program (CPRP) at the Cleveland Clinic. President Obama was here today, but things were all barricaded. Anywho, CPRP is not at all what I envisioned it'd be. I thought it'd be a lot more physical therapy and a lot less...rehab-like. It's definitely rehab. Most of the people here are in the Chemically Dependent (CD) track. The CD group has to go through a 12-step program and are weaned off of all medication. There are about 15 of us total, CD and non-CD. I'm obviously non-CD since I've taken Vicodin once in the past two months. The program takes up most of my day; I leave the hotel (which is just off the Clinic's campus) at 7:15 and get back just after 6 Monday through Friday. The program mixes physical therapy, occupational therapy, group and individual psychotherapy, biofeedback, coping skills training, and pain management medication.
After 7 years of PT, I didn't have high hopes for things, but I can already feel a slight improvement. And occupational therapy (OT) taught me today that using a lumbar pillow drastically reduces my pain while driving and sitting in some chairs. Something about the way it presses on the spine and alters your alignment. It's amazing. The psychiatrists feel the need to dig out every skeleton in my closet, which I'm really not okay with, but since my pain has been around for my entire conscious life, most of my memories are intertwined with my physical pain. I hate crying in front of people. I already have most of the "coping skills" they teach mastered (i.e. keeping busy to distract yourself from the pain, deep breathing to get through the worst of it, etc.). It's the only way I've been able to steer away from a Vicodin addiction, and seeing these guys going through withdrawal is making me very grateful for making the decisions I have. They've started me on Cymbalta and Neurontin, neuropathic/non-opioid pain medicines that double as antidepressants. Though they make me nauseous, I'm thankful for them. I am a little concerned because dependence can occur on these meds, nowhere near the severity of opioid dependence, but it still makes me hesitant. And you cannot take these meds while pregnant or trying for pregnancy, which I don't like. Regardless, they should help take the edge off for now without knocking me out or getting me hooked.
I'm meeting a lot of interesting people here, too. Some I think are full of shit. If you walk out of here "cured" after the 3-week program, you weren't fucking disabled. But a fair chunk of these people definitely have it worse than I do, and it makes me grateful that I'm not paralyzed or blind or have a high spinal chord injury that has fucked up my entire nervous system. I can still grip a fork to eat. And I can stand up on my own. I'm lucky. The CPRP emphasizes the importance of being a person rather than a patient. Most of us with chronic pain become obsessed with it and only see ourselves as a disability. When we first meet up, we instantly exchange stories about surgeries, doctors, misdiagnoses, and our years of pain and being treated as some crazy outsider. I feel normal here, which is a new feeling for me. However, they strongly discourage us from talking about our pain with each other to keep us from dwelling on it. "Pain" is a 4-letter word in the Clinic, and it isn't to be used. They also don't respond to our "pain behavior", so if I'm deep breathing or rubbing my leg or crying or whatever because of the pain, they won't acknowledge it. Which is weird. They have amazing poker faces, but the staff is amazing, and everyone is super laid back and has an awesome sense of humor.
Of course, we can't help but be curious and ask each other about our conditions when we're away from the staff, namely in the cafeteria for lunch. As part of my "initiation" to the lunch table, I was asked about my pain and medical history. After I gave them the brief overview and had to shamefully admit that no one knows what's wrong and that I have no diagnosis, one woman piped up and asked me if I had a series of other strange symptoms. I had all of them. She suggested I look up the genetic condition Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. She has it. I'd seen it before on Discovery Health Channel, but didn't think it applied to me. When I got back to my hotel room today, I looked it up. There are 6 types of Ehlers-Danlos. Unfortunately, that poor woman has the one type that shortens your life-span, Type 4. I looked through all of the symptom lists for each Type, and completely froze after reading the Type 3 description. Type 3 is called Hypermobility Type. It is characterized by hypermobile joints, frequent dislocations and subluxations, flat feet, dental crowding, easy bruising, muscle weakness (even moreso in cold), early onset of osteoarthritis, and cardiac effects, namely mitral valve prolapse. All of my joints are hypermobile. I've dislocated or subluxed nearly every major joint. I have horribly flat feet. The whole reason I got braces was from dental crowding, and they've recrowded since my braces have been removed. My yellow arm from having blood drawn today is a demonstration of my easy bruising. I have chronic muscle weakness, which is why I've needed years of PT, and it's definitely worse in winter. I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis when I was 11. And I was diagnosed with mitral valve prolapse in high school. I fit every symptom to a T. Never have I ever experienced this, and I've spent the past 12 years searching like crazy, looking up everything I could think of. And the pain this woman experiences sounds just like mine.
Now I just need an official diagnosis. There are no real tests for this genetic condition, so it's diagnosed via medical history and observation. If I could leave here with a diagnosis, I could go home with closure, and that would be the biggest step toward recovery I've ever had. The good news: Type 4 Ehlers-Danlos does not affect life-span and isn't seriously degenerative, so I wouldn't get much worse. The bad news: It's associated with chronic pain (which I obviously have) and there is no real treatment or cure. The best I can do is keep breathing, keep exercising to combat the muscle weakness which accentuates my pain, and live with it. But I honestly think I could live with this pain as long as I knew for sure that it wasn't life- or limb-threatening, that I'll live a full life, and that I've done everything I could to minimize it. I need a diagnosis to close this 12-year chapter in my life. I'm sick of playing detective.
Life is...crazy. But I think it's starting to look up.
- I feel:
hopeful
Per Jackie's request, I'll divulge a little more about my trip to California, though most of it is evident in the pictures I put up on Facebook. :)
Seeing Andrew was beyond phenomenal, and I could've stayed curled up in bed all day with him. But we did get out of the apartment and see some stuff. We went to downtown San Francisco, or tried to, the day before the 4th of July, but everything we so packed and we both hate people/crowds, so we ended up leaving and revisiting the city the following weekend. There, we went to Fisherman's Wharf which has a bunch of shopping, restaurants, museums, and other tourist-y attractions. And we got each new rings from an Irish shop since Andrew lost the one I got him for our anniversary back in November. As much as I usually hate tourist-y things, the day was actually really nice.
There were a lot of things that we tried to do that we just couldn't. And some things that we could've done that we simply chose not to. Our first trip to San Fran flopped, as did our trips to Santa Cruz and the San Francisco Botanical Gardens, all primarily because the places were so absurdly busy that after at least 30 minutes of searching for parking we still couldn't find a single space. California is disgusting overcrowded; houses are nearly on top of each other, and the roads are packed like our rush-hour at all times. We also wanted to go to places like Sequoia or Yellowstone National Parks since we're both more the outdoors-y type people, but we knew that my knee wouldn't allow it, which broke my heart.
More importantly, the things we did do were fantastic. Our belated trip downtown was a lot of fun. We also strolled around downtown San Mateo. We were able to go to the bar together for the first time since he turned 21 in June, and we went to this brewery and pizzeria with the best pizza and beer I've ever had. So we went a second time. :) We played through Resident Evil 5 together, which I've been dying to play since its release. Nerdy, I know. We went for a mini-hike through Muir Woods National Park and were blown away by the mammoth redwoods, even though they're supposedly not half as cool as Sequoia. Still awesome. We spent a few days just driving around (since the jerk has a Mustang for the summer), primarily driving down Highway 1 which parallels the ocean, hitting up every beach we could. I'd never seen the Pacific before and had only gotten a glimpse of ocean once before (in New York two years ago), so overlooking the water for the week took my breath away. The scenery driving down some highways was more beautiful than anything I've witnessed even in Michigan's secluded areas. That's how most of the trip went: we just drove, and stopped at whatever seemed interesting. Spur-of-the-moment. Hitting up little family shops and fruit stands. Beach-hopping even though it was never more than 75 degrees. It was amazing.
God, I miss him.
And now I'm so nervous for my admission to Cleveland Clinic on Tuesday that I'm already losing sleep over it. But I'll write more about that later.
Seeing Andrew was beyond phenomenal, and I could've stayed curled up in bed all day with him. But we did get out of the apartment and see some stuff. We went to downtown San Francisco, or tried to, the day before the 4th of July, but everything we so packed and we both hate people/crowds, so we ended up leaving and revisiting the city the following weekend. There, we went to Fisherman's Wharf which has a bunch of shopping, restaurants, museums, and other tourist-y attractions. And we got each new rings from an Irish shop since Andrew lost the one I got him for our anniversary back in November. As much as I usually hate tourist-y things, the day was actually really nice.
There were a lot of things that we tried to do that we just couldn't. And some things that we could've done that we simply chose not to. Our first trip to San Fran flopped, as did our trips to Santa Cruz and the San Francisco Botanical Gardens, all primarily because the places were so absurdly busy that after at least 30 minutes of searching for parking we still couldn't find a single space. California is disgusting overcrowded; houses are nearly on top of each other, and the roads are packed like our rush-hour at all times. We also wanted to go to places like Sequoia or Yellowstone National Parks since we're both more the outdoors-y type people, but we knew that my knee wouldn't allow it, which broke my heart.
More importantly, the things we did do were fantastic. Our belated trip downtown was a lot of fun. We also strolled around downtown San Mateo. We were able to go to the bar together for the first time since he turned 21 in June, and we went to this brewery and pizzeria with the best pizza and beer I've ever had. So we went a second time. :) We played through Resident Evil 5 together, which I've been dying to play since its release. Nerdy, I know. We went for a mini-hike through Muir Woods National Park and were blown away by the mammoth redwoods, even though they're supposedly not half as cool as Sequoia. Still awesome. We spent a few days just driving around (since the jerk has a Mustang for the summer), primarily driving down Highway 1 which parallels the ocean, hitting up every beach we could. I'd never seen the Pacific before and had only gotten a glimpse of ocean once before (in New York two years ago), so overlooking the water for the week took my breath away. The scenery driving down some highways was more beautiful than anything I've witnessed even in Michigan's secluded areas. That's how most of the trip went: we just drove, and stopped at whatever seemed interesting. Spur-of-the-moment. Hitting up little family shops and fruit stands. Beach-hopping even though it was never more than 75 degrees. It was amazing.
God, I miss him.
And now I'm so nervous for my admission to Cleveland Clinic on Tuesday that I'm already losing sleep over it. But I'll write more about that later.
- I feel:
nervous
I wish I could've stayed in California all summer snuggled up with the love of my life. Being in Michigan isn't the problem - it's being here without him. I already hate being here, and I've been back home for an hour.
- I feel: lonely
I'm going to California today, and I've never been more excited for anything.
- I feel:
excited
So I suppose I have a lot to update on. Primarily medical updates.
I'm sure you're all beyond sick of hearing about my leg. Trust me, I'm sick of dealing with it. I'm having a nearly impossible time holding my desk job because the drive to and from work kills my leg. Oh, and sitting in a chair hurts. And laying down hurts. And sleeping hurts. And standing hurts. And walking hurts the worst. So I basically have no relief from the pain. I started seeing a neurologist - who, by the way, is the coolest, black, female neurosurgeon to ever live - and though I think she's an awesome person and a great doctor, I don't think the problem is neurological. I've been on neuropathic pain medicine for a few weeks, and it hasn't helped at all. I also had an EMG this morning, and after being shocked and poked with electric needles for half an hour, the doctor blatantly told me that there's no neuromuscular reason for my pain. I drove 8 hours round-trip to Cleveland Clinic two weeks ago only to hear, "Whelp, all I can tell you is that you don't need a knee replacement." Well, fuck, if that's what it takes to work in one of the best diagnostic hospitals in the country - reading a single x-ray - then give me my M.D.! That was a disappointing waste of time. Oh yeah, and then my leg hurt so bad after his exam that I collapsed in the lobby on the way out. My actual surgeon has no fucking clue what's wrong anymore and is just taking a stab in the dark by suggesting he break, rotate, and plate my femur. According to two (supposedly) good orthopedic surgeons, there's no orthopedic reason for my pain. And apparently, it's not neurological, either. Well if it isn't the ligaments, muscles, bones, OR nerves, then what the fuck is it?! Seriously CANNOT handle this anymore. I want my goddamn life back.
On a happier note, I'm doing something for myself next week. Some of you may not be happy or supportive about it, and I don't care. I've been made fun of for most of my adolescent and adult life about having no boobs. What you don't know is that I literally don't have boobs - I have tuberous breast deformity, meaning I entirely lack breast tissue, making them concave. There's no fix or cure or treatment or anything, and no amount of weight gain has or will affect my chest size because I simply do not have the tissue. I've been wearing hyper-padded bras AND special inserts for as long as you've known me. I already lose a lot of femininity to my limp, scars, cane, etc., and I'm finally financially stable enough to afford it: I'm having breast augmentation. No, I'm not getting Pam Anderson boobs. I'm just ready to do something for myself and actually be able to wear a standard bra or a fitted shirt. My surgery is on Wednesday. My parents have been beyond supportive, and I even got up the balls to tell my boss/boyfriend's mother who's a conservative CPA. I feel I have nothing to be ashamed of, and I'm super duper excited for it. Maybe it'll make me feel better since I've been so upset about my leg lately.
P.S. - I miss my boyfriend. A lot. But I'm going to visit him in California on July 1st, and the day can't come fast enough.
I'm sure you're all beyond sick of hearing about my leg. Trust me, I'm sick of dealing with it. I'm having a nearly impossible time holding my desk job because the drive to and from work kills my leg. Oh, and sitting in a chair hurts. And laying down hurts. And sleeping hurts. And standing hurts. And walking hurts the worst. So I basically have no relief from the pain. I started seeing a neurologist - who, by the way, is the coolest, black, female neurosurgeon to ever live - and though I think she's an awesome person and a great doctor, I don't think the problem is neurological. I've been on neuropathic pain medicine for a few weeks, and it hasn't helped at all. I also had an EMG this morning, and after being shocked and poked with electric needles for half an hour, the doctor blatantly told me that there's no neuromuscular reason for my pain. I drove 8 hours round-trip to Cleveland Clinic two weeks ago only to hear, "Whelp, all I can tell you is that you don't need a knee replacement." Well, fuck, if that's what it takes to work in one of the best diagnostic hospitals in the country - reading a single x-ray - then give me my M.D.! That was a disappointing waste of time. Oh yeah, and then my leg hurt so bad after his exam that I collapsed in the lobby on the way out. My actual surgeon has no fucking clue what's wrong anymore and is just taking a stab in the dark by suggesting he break, rotate, and plate my femur. According to two (supposedly) good orthopedic surgeons, there's no orthopedic reason for my pain. And apparently, it's not neurological, either. Well if it isn't the ligaments, muscles, bones, OR nerves, then what the fuck is it?! Seriously CANNOT handle this anymore. I want my goddamn life back.
On a happier note, I'm doing something for myself next week. Some of you may not be happy or supportive about it, and I don't care. I've been made fun of for most of my adolescent and adult life about having no boobs. What you don't know is that I literally don't have boobs - I have tuberous breast deformity, meaning I entirely lack breast tissue, making them concave. There's no fix or cure or treatment or anything, and no amount of weight gain has or will affect my chest size because I simply do not have the tissue. I've been wearing hyper-padded bras AND special inserts for as long as you've known me. I already lose a lot of femininity to my limp, scars, cane, etc., and I'm finally financially stable enough to afford it: I'm having breast augmentation. No, I'm not getting Pam Anderson boobs. I'm just ready to do something for myself and actually be able to wear a standard bra or a fitted shirt. My surgery is on Wednesday. My parents have been beyond supportive, and I even got up the balls to tell my boss/boyfriend's mother who's a conservative CPA. I feel I have nothing to be ashamed of, and I'm super duper excited for it. Maybe it'll make me feel better since I've been so upset about my leg lately.
P.S. - I miss my boyfriend. A lot. But I'm going to visit him in California on July 1st, and the day can't come fast enough.
- I feel:
depressed
I'm so proud of Andrew, but I'm having a really hard time with him being in California, and he's only been gone 3 days. 3 down, 109 to go...
It doesn't help that I work for his mother, and she's a partial owner of the company, so her/his last name is on everything. And with the time difference, he doesn't get off work 'til 9 p.m. my time, we can't use night minutes on our cell phones until midnight my time, and I have to be up at 5:30 a.m. for work on weekdays.
Fuck this game. Hard.
It doesn't help that I work for his mother, and she's a partial owner of the company, so her/his last name is on everything. And with the time difference, he doesn't get off work 'til 9 p.m. my time, we can't use night minutes on our cell phones until midnight my time, and I have to be up at 5:30 a.m. for work on weekdays.
Fuck this game. Hard.
- I feel: lonely
Haven't updated in a while. Figured I should.
Got my final grades in (like, a week after graduation) and earned my 4.0. So all goals achieved. :) I'm starting to look forward to grad school in Fall already, even if it's only at Eastern. Not looking forward to the GRE again, though, but I've begun preparing all over again and have 6 months to boost my confidence.
I never thought I'd say it, but I really like being back home. I finally have a family, for the first time in well over a decade, and it's beyond awesome. I've taken the past two weeks to just relax and do what I want. I've spent some time with Andrew, played video games (finally), and drew a picture. Honestly, this drawing is my all-time favorite. The pictures can't do it justice. It's an 8.5x11, and the amount of detail I put into it is a little ridiculous. It looks like a black-and-white photograph, which is exactly what I was going for. The patience paid off.
The photograph inevitably washes out some detail, but the scanner pretty much destroys the integrity of a drawing, so this is better than nothing.
Andrew and I are...I don't know. Very roller-coaster-esque lately. Some days are amazing. Most days I want to wring his neck. All those little faults that I could ignore in the early stages of a relationship are painfully obvious now a year and a half later. I'm hoping his internship and our temporary long-distance status will help us rekindle the romance. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?
I hate when I feel insecure about our relationship. I always end up having really bad/awkward dreams. I'm so goddamn insecure.
I have a summer job that I just started today. Andrew's mom hired me to work full-time for the summer. She's a CPA, so I'm helping out around the office, filing and filling out the bullshit paperwork that would be a waste of time for the salary employees to do. It's not a bad gig. 10-hour days staring at a computer screen are a little harsh when you aren't used to them, but it's $11/hour , 40 hours/week, sitting in an air-conditioned room. Hard to complain, though my knee is already finding reasons to be bitchy.
I've decided to start trying to look more feminine in an attempt to boost my self-esteem. I had to buy work clothes since I owned nothing business-casual, and I bought girly stuff that could reasonably be worn with jeans. And I've been wearing makeup. It's strange, but I think it's helping.
My summer quest: get a diagnosis for my leg. After 12 years, 14 leg braces, a dozen steroid injections, 6 years of physical therapy, every diagnostic scan known to mankind, 5 surgeries, and several consultations, there is still no diagnosis to explain the excruciating, debilitating pain in my right leg. I need to reclaim my leg and my life. I'm going to Cleveland Clinic a week from Friday, ranked #3 in the country for orthopaedics. Hospital #1 doesn't take my insurance and is in NYC (a.k.a. hella expensive) and Hospital #2 - Mayo Clinic - won't see me for at least 3-6 months because I had "surgery". I had a complete meltdown upon hearing this. I really, really wanted to go to Mayo Clinic, and I didn't fucking have surgery. I was awake for the entire "procedure". I was given a shot of novocaine to "numb" the skin (which is already permanently numb from nerve damage from previous surgeries), then he pumped a little water in there is help create some extra space as he stuck a small camera in my leg to look around. He scraped my bones and pulled on my tendons without me having any pain medication or anesthesia so I could feel if he was hitting the source of my pain. It was the most painful ordeal of my entire life. I screamed on the operating table for an hour in sheer agony, and he found absolutely nothing wrong. Biggest waste of time and pain. And now, because of that, I can't go to the one place I wanted to until August, which is far too late for them to actually act if they find something wrong since school starts up again in September. I'm still devastated by this, and I fought tooth and nail to get them to reverse the decision. No luck. I might choke Teitge when I go for my follow-up appointment on Friday. It will likely be the last time I see him.
Wow, this is a novel. Sorry, guys. Bed time for now. Have to be up at 5:30 again for work.
Got my final grades in (like, a week after graduation) and earned my 4.0. So all goals achieved. :) I'm starting to look forward to grad school in Fall already, even if it's only at Eastern. Not looking forward to the GRE again, though, but I've begun preparing all over again and have 6 months to boost my confidence.
I never thought I'd say it, but I really like being back home. I finally have a family, for the first time in well over a decade, and it's beyond awesome. I've taken the past two weeks to just relax and do what I want. I've spent some time with Andrew, played video games (finally), and drew a picture. Honestly, this drawing is my all-time favorite. The pictures can't do it justice. It's an 8.5x11, and the amount of detail I put into it is a little ridiculous. It looks like a black-and-white photograph, which is exactly what I was going for. The patience paid off.
The photograph inevitably washes out some detail, but the scanner pretty much destroys the integrity of a drawing, so this is better than nothing.
Andrew and I are...I don't know. Very roller-coaster-esque lately. Some days are amazing. Most days I want to wring his neck. All those little faults that I could ignore in the early stages of a relationship are painfully obvious now a year and a half later. I'm hoping his internship and our temporary long-distance status will help us rekindle the romance. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?
I hate when I feel insecure about our relationship. I always end up having really bad/awkward dreams. I'm so goddamn insecure.
I have a summer job that I just started today. Andrew's mom hired me to work full-time for the summer. She's a CPA, so I'm helping out around the office, filing and filling out the bullshit paperwork that would be a waste of time for the salary employees to do. It's not a bad gig. 10-hour days staring at a computer screen are a little harsh when you aren't used to them, but it's $11/hour , 40 hours/week, sitting in an air-conditioned room. Hard to complain, though my knee is already finding reasons to be bitchy.
I've decided to start trying to look more feminine in an attempt to boost my self-esteem. I had to buy work clothes since I owned nothing business-casual, and I bought girly stuff that could reasonably be worn with jeans. And I've been wearing makeup. It's strange, but I think it's helping.
My summer quest: get a diagnosis for my leg. After 12 years, 14 leg braces, a dozen steroid injections, 6 years of physical therapy, every diagnostic scan known to mankind, 5 surgeries, and several consultations, there is still no diagnosis to explain the excruciating, debilitating pain in my right leg. I need to reclaim my leg and my life. I'm going to Cleveland Clinic a week from Friday, ranked #3 in the country for orthopaedics. Hospital #1 doesn't take my insurance and is in NYC (a.k.a. hella expensive) and Hospital #2 - Mayo Clinic - won't see me for at least 3-6 months because I had "surgery". I had a complete meltdown upon hearing this. I really, really wanted to go to Mayo Clinic, and I didn't fucking have surgery. I was awake for the entire "procedure". I was given a shot of novocaine to "numb" the skin (which is already permanently numb from nerve damage from previous surgeries), then he pumped a little water in there is help create some extra space as he stuck a small camera in my leg to look around. He scraped my bones and pulled on my tendons without me having any pain medication or anesthesia so I could feel if he was hitting the source of my pain. It was the most painful ordeal of my entire life. I screamed on the operating table for an hour in sheer agony, and he found absolutely nothing wrong. Biggest waste of time and pain. And now, because of that, I can't go to the one place I wanted to until August, which is far too late for them to actually act if they find something wrong since school starts up again in September. I'm still devastated by this, and I fought tooth and nail to get them to reverse the decision. No luck. I might choke Teitge when I go for my follow-up appointment on Friday. It will likely be the last time I see him.
Wow, this is a novel. Sorry, guys. Bed time for now. Have to be up at 5:30 again for work.
- I feel: all over the place
By Sunday, I will have:
- ditched the lease on my Ann Arbor apartment for Fall
- found a new place to live in Ypsi
- rejected/deferred my acceptance (and scholarship) to U of M
- been accepted into EMU's math master's program
- gotten a GA spot in the Math Department
- taken 3 final exams
- finished 2 problem sets for Dr. J's class
- finished my thesis
- gone to 2 birthday parties
- graduated with my bachelor's in math with a 4.0 cumulative GPA and double/highest honors, completed within 7 semesters.
This week - and, in general, my life - is a whirlwind.
- ditched the lease on my Ann Arbor apartment for Fall
- found a new place to live in Ypsi
- rejected/deferred my acceptance (and scholarship) to U of M
- been accepted into EMU's math master's program
- gotten a GA spot in the Math Department
- taken 3 final exams
- finished 2 problem sets for Dr. J's class
- finished my thesis
- gone to 2 birthday parties
- graduated with my bachelor's in math with a 4.0 cumulative GPA and double/highest honors, completed within 7 semesters.
This week - and, in general, my life - is a whirlwind.
- I feel:
accomplished
Parties this weekend were fantastic. There were two in Fraser on Saturday (yesterday). First, I went to Pat's going-away party since he leaves for the Army on the 14th. I honestly thought things would be a little awkward. He and I have talked on and off since our break-up 2.5 years ago, and I had a bit of a falling-out with that group of friends immediately after our break-up. But, gladly, it wasn't awkward at all. I had a great time catching up with old friends, watching some beer pong, and just general bullshitting. We exchanged numbers and agreed to hang out over summer, so now I actually have something to look forward to this summer in Fraser. :) Afterward, I went to Tato's for a get-to-get-her reunion party. I still don't know what happened to us. We all just went separate ways. We were so close all through high school with sleepovers nearly every week for years. Our paths were just all so different, we couldn't keep up. This was the first time we've all been together since graduation nearly 4 years ago (with the exception of Zogas's funeral, which was hardly a good reason for a reunion). That was an equally good time. It was great hearing about where everyone's going and where they've been. I can hardly comprehend how much we've all changed and how much we've experienced. High school feels like a lifetime ago. Again, numbers were exchanged, and I really hope to see them again over summer. No excuses. I will get out this summer and try to keep those friends. I'm sick of making excuses for being a recluse.
As phenomenal as yesterday was, I'm still in a funk. Andrew and I got into a huge fight that started Thursday and carried into Friday. We haven't talked since Friday night. In the year and a half we've been together, we've never gone a day without talking to each other. It's weird. But, honestly, it's kind of nice. I really do think he's right for me. I think I'd have an incredibly hard time finding anyone that's half as good for me as he is. But we definitely have problems. We've been talking about moving in together since December, and we even started looking at apartments together for the Fall. I knew he was never fully settled into the idea, but when talking about apartments, he'd allude to living with me far more often than he alluded to living alone or with a friend. I thought I had a chance. Then on Thursday, he told me he's signing a lease with his friend Mac this week. I lost it. I just feel really led on and dumb for getting my hopes up. But, of course, this is far more than just a living arrangement. It's a testament to the seriousness of our relationship and our individual maturity levels. I feel mature enough and totally ready to live with him. We've already unofficially lived together for a total of 8 months, so the only difference now would be paying rent together (which we'd both be paying with student loans). I don't want to get married. Not any time soon. I don't see living together as part of a progression toward marriage. I'm about 98% sure I'll have to leave the state in a year to find a job, so there's no way this living arrangement could become permanent. I just wanted to spend time with him. We don't have much time to see each other as it is, and right now we have easier schedules and live closer than we would next year. We currently see each other about 3 days a week, but we spend a large chunk of that time doing homework. I feel that our relationship would be much better if we lived together because we wouldn't have to stress and work so hard to squeeze each other into our schedules. Living together, we'd automatically be around when free time came up, and we could spend that time together rather than trying to schedule "free time." I feel like he's not at my maturity level and/or just isn't as into the relationship as I am if he's not ready for this step. So now I just want distance. I'm in an "I-don't-need-you" mood in a shitty attempt to prove that I'm not invested in this relationship and that his decisions don't hurt me. He asks for my opinions on things, but I don't think he actually internalizes them. He immediately comes up with a counterexample or rebuttal to refute whatever argument I can come up with. I can't change his mind. I don't feel he takes my opinions in consideration when making decisions. It's the same problem we had with the Lindsay situation (his ex). He knew how much his talking to her hurt me, and he agreed with my reasons for not talking to her, saying that she's been nothing but shady in the past and he doesn't trust her motives. But, despite agreeing with me and supposedly understanding how hurt I was, he continued to talk to her. Hell, he lied to me for a month and a half and kept talking to her behind my back because, as he tells me now, he thought my reasons were unfounded...even though he previously agreed with them. He's always so goddamn back-and-forth. I'm so sick of his ambivalence. So, again, just like the Lindsay thing, I have to let him do whatever he wants since he'll do it regardless of my opinion, and I'll either have to deal with it or leave him. I don't know which one to do. The Lindsay situation and the apartment are pretty much the only things we've fought about (real fights, at least - we've certainly bickered about other things), and I feel I've been the only person sacrificing for this. When will he prove to me that he's really invested in this? That he's willing to do what he needs to do to make me happy? I know he can't necessarily just appease me in this situation. You really can't/shouldn't live with someone if you don't want. That's guaranteed to kill the relationship. I just wish he wanted this as badly as I did, and I wish that for once when agreeing with my opinions he wholeheartedly agreed, rather than just to saying stuff to appease me in the moment.
I'm also in a personal funk, which may be why I'm taking the Andrew thing so hard. I've applied for scholarship stuff left and right and keep getting rejected. I didn't get the fellowship. I didn't get the Senior Thesis scholarship. I didn't get a Symposium scholarship. But they gave scholarships to people like Don and Grant (who I truly like and respect, but still) who only presented at Symposium because they were required to for a class. I promise you my thesis was a shit ton more work than their fucking class project that they presented as a group. I just feel like I'm working my ass off for nothing. I'm graduating with Highest Honors from the Honors College in 3.5 years with a 4.0 cumulative GPA in math, and I'm twice published. Yet none of it is good enough to deserve ANY recognition. I'm so sick of it. I fucking give up. So now I'm entering grad school in June for a program that I'm not even sure I want to do and I have to pay for all $50,000 of it out of pocket because God hates me. Seriously, I've been through enough in life already. When will I get a fucking break?! Alright, I need to stop writing before I reach the point of wanting to choke myself.
As phenomenal as yesterday was, I'm still in a funk. Andrew and I got into a huge fight that started Thursday and carried into Friday. We haven't talked since Friday night. In the year and a half we've been together, we've never gone a day without talking to each other. It's weird. But, honestly, it's kind of nice. I really do think he's right for me. I think I'd have an incredibly hard time finding anyone that's half as good for me as he is. But we definitely have problems. We've been talking about moving in together since December, and we even started looking at apartments together for the Fall. I knew he was never fully settled into the idea, but when talking about apartments, he'd allude to living with me far more often than he alluded to living alone or with a friend. I thought I had a chance. Then on Thursday, he told me he's signing a lease with his friend Mac this week. I lost it. I just feel really led on and dumb for getting my hopes up. But, of course, this is far more than just a living arrangement. It's a testament to the seriousness of our relationship and our individual maturity levels. I feel mature enough and totally ready to live with him. We've already unofficially lived together for a total of 8 months, so the only difference now would be paying rent together (which we'd both be paying with student loans). I don't want to get married. Not any time soon. I don't see living together as part of a progression toward marriage. I'm about 98% sure I'll have to leave the state in a year to find a job, so there's no way this living arrangement could become permanent. I just wanted to spend time with him. We don't have much time to see each other as it is, and right now we have easier schedules and live closer than we would next year. We currently see each other about 3 days a week, but we spend a large chunk of that time doing homework. I feel that our relationship would be much better if we lived together because we wouldn't have to stress and work so hard to squeeze each other into our schedules. Living together, we'd automatically be around when free time came up, and we could spend that time together rather than trying to schedule "free time." I feel like he's not at my maturity level and/or just isn't as into the relationship as I am if he's not ready for this step. So now I just want distance. I'm in an "I-don't-need-you" mood in a shitty attempt to prove that I'm not invested in this relationship and that his decisions don't hurt me. He asks for my opinions on things, but I don't think he actually internalizes them. He immediately comes up with a counterexample or rebuttal to refute whatever argument I can come up with. I can't change his mind. I don't feel he takes my opinions in consideration when making decisions. It's the same problem we had with the Lindsay situation (his ex). He knew how much his talking to her hurt me, and he agreed with my reasons for not talking to her, saying that she's been nothing but shady in the past and he doesn't trust her motives. But, despite agreeing with me and supposedly understanding how hurt I was, he continued to talk to her. Hell, he lied to me for a month and a half and kept talking to her behind my back because, as he tells me now, he thought my reasons were unfounded...even though he previously agreed with them. He's always so goddamn back-and-forth. I'm so sick of his ambivalence. So, again, just like the Lindsay thing, I have to let him do whatever he wants since he'll do it regardless of my opinion, and I'll either have to deal with it or leave him. I don't know which one to do. The Lindsay situation and the apartment are pretty much the only things we've fought about (real fights, at least - we've certainly bickered about other things), and I feel I've been the only person sacrificing for this. When will he prove to me that he's really invested in this? That he's willing to do what he needs to do to make me happy? I know he can't necessarily just appease me in this situation. You really can't/shouldn't live with someone if you don't want. That's guaranteed to kill the relationship. I just wish he wanted this as badly as I did, and I wish that for once when agreeing with my opinions he wholeheartedly agreed, rather than just to saying stuff to appease me in the moment.
I'm also in a personal funk, which may be why I'm taking the Andrew thing so hard. I've applied for scholarship stuff left and right and keep getting rejected. I didn't get the fellowship. I didn't get the Senior Thesis scholarship. I didn't get a Symposium scholarship. But they gave scholarships to people like Don and Grant (who I truly like and respect, but still) who only presented at Symposium because they were required to for a class. I promise you my thesis was a shit ton more work than their fucking class project that they presented as a group. I just feel like I'm working my ass off for nothing. I'm graduating with Highest Honors from the Honors College in 3.5 years with a 4.0 cumulative GPA in math, and I'm twice published. Yet none of it is good enough to deserve ANY recognition. I'm so sick of it. I fucking give up. So now I'm entering grad school in June for a program that I'm not even sure I want to do and I have to pay for all $50,000 of it out of pocket because God hates me. Seriously, I've been through enough in life already. When will I get a fucking break?! Alright, I need to stop writing before I reach the point of wanting to choke myself.
- I feel: depressed
Bah.
Quick updates, I suppose. The trip to Philly sucked. Royally. I didn't fit in at all. Most of the people I met were Ivy League students. Most of them were already in grad school. And literally everyone I met did some ridiculous form of community service. So all I heard all weekend were things like, "I'm finishing my Ph.D. at Stanford in biochemistry...", "I spent my summer in Venezuela reading to elementary school children...", "Yes, I took a year off of school and toured Nicaragua, Cambodia, and Nigeria volunteering in orphanages..." These kids haven't worked a fucking day in their lives. It was disgusting.
Rich Bitch #1089723487: "Why, yes. I love Zambia. I've been there twice to benefit AIDS victims. And how did you spend your summer?"
Me: "Uh...I had my 5th knee surgery and worked the graveyard shift at Burger King. $7.25 an hour to work 9 p.m. to 4:30 a.m. It sucked..."
Rich Bitch: "Oh...right..."
^That summed up the whole weekend. So, surprise surprise! I didn't get the fellowship. Whatever. I wouldn't want to meet with those people 3 times a year anyways. Bitches.
I graduate from college in a month. Where have the past 4 years gone?! I'm more scared than excited at this point, but I'm hoping that changes once I start my graduate program.
Undergraduate Symposium went awesomely on Friday. I had the biggest turnout I'd ever experienced at a Symposium, like 25 people, and got great feedback. I was very proud of it.
Sarah and Jeff's wedding was this weekend, and that was fun. It was really good seeing old friends and playing catch-up. And I've got another weekend of reminiscing coming up, which I look forward to. Andrew and I are doing well. Can't complain. We're working on stuff, and we make an incredible team.
Is it July 2010 yet?
Quick updates, I suppose. The trip to Philly sucked. Royally. I didn't fit in at all. Most of the people I met were Ivy League students. Most of them were already in grad school. And literally everyone I met did some ridiculous form of community service. So all I heard all weekend were things like, "I'm finishing my Ph.D. at Stanford in biochemistry...", "I spent my summer in Venezuela reading to elementary school children...", "Yes, I took a year off of school and toured Nicaragua, Cambodia, and Nigeria volunteering in orphanages..." These kids haven't worked a fucking day in their lives. It was disgusting.
Rich Bitch #1089723487: "Why, yes. I love Zambia. I've been there twice to benefit AIDS victims. And how did you spend your summer?"
Me: "Uh...I had my 5th knee surgery and worked the graveyard shift at Burger King. $7.25 an hour to work 9 p.m. to 4:30 a.m. It sucked..."
Rich Bitch: "Oh...right..."
^That summed up the whole weekend. So, surprise surprise! I didn't get the fellowship. Whatever. I wouldn't want to meet with those people 3 times a year anyways. Bitches.
I graduate from college in a month. Where have the past 4 years gone?! I'm more scared than excited at this point, but I'm hoping that changes once I start my graduate program.
Undergraduate Symposium went awesomely on Friday. I had the biggest turnout I'd ever experienced at a Symposium, like 25 people, and got great feedback. I was very proud of it.
Sarah and Jeff's wedding was this weekend, and that was fun. It was really good seeing old friends and playing catch-up. And I've got another weekend of reminiscing coming up, which I look forward to. Andrew and I are doing well. Can't complain. We're working on stuff, and we make an incredible team.
Is it July 2010 yet?
I fucking hate how beautiful you are.
Aaaand my boyfriend's a lying douchebag. I've encountered larger fallacies within a relationship, but this one still hurts. A lot. Particularly because I didn't think he had it in him. And because he was lying to me about talking to his ex, which he KNOWS I'm horribly insecure about, for good reason (for a reference/refresher, see my entry on June 18, 2008).
There's the open window. There goes the trust in our relationship. Sweet.
There's the open window. There goes the trust in our relationship. Sweet.
- I feel:
uncomfortable
Oh, and in other news, I made it to the final round for the fellowship! It's a national teaching fellowship. If I get it (keep your fingers crossed!), I'll receive a stipend for tuition, a stipend for housing, and money for classroom supplies for the next 5 years. All I have to do is go to their conferences 3 weekends per year and send them transcripts to prove that I'm not failing, which is noooo problem-o. So, yes! I have an interview in Philadelphia in two weeks (March 13-15). They're flying me out for an all-expenses-paid weekend for the interview. I've never traveled alone, so this ought to be interesting. Wish me luck! If I don't get this, I get to pay for all of grad school on my own 'cause this program doesn't let you be a GA.
Salt Lake City has the most beautiful scenery I've ever witnessed.
Andrew and I went to SLC for Spring Break. I've never been out west at all, and that was easily the farthest I've ever been from home. It was an amazing experience. He's a big skier, and he and his father try to get out there to go skiing once every year or two. They went together last year and said they'd bring me with them this year. However, Andrew's dad is no longer in the best of health and is busy with work, so he gave us a good chunk of money (and let us borrow his car) and insisted that the two of us went. We had to drive since we couldn't rent a car out there (we're too young), and the 30-hour drives were brutal, but they were well worth it. Yay for a super, super cheap, week-long road trip!
Of course, a day into the vacation, the camera I've had for 4 years broke. So I had to buy disposable cameras. As soon as I get them developed, you'll see pictures on Facebook. The mountains were so unbelievably gorgeous. And downtown was equally beautiful. SLC is easily the most clean and up-kept city I've ever seen. And while the Mormons may seem a little crazy (yes, the Joseph Smith story about the Mormon religion from South Park is 100% true), they are by far the nicest people I've ever met. And the Mormon Tabernacle Choir gave me shivers.
Spending 9 straight days with Andrew was also incredible. I already miss him terribly, and we just went our separate ways two hours ago. I hate weekdays.
Andrew and I went to SLC for Spring Break. I've never been out west at all, and that was easily the farthest I've ever been from home. It was an amazing experience. He's a big skier, and he and his father try to get out there to go skiing once every year or two. They went together last year and said they'd bring me with them this year. However, Andrew's dad is no longer in the best of health and is busy with work, so he gave us a good chunk of money (and let us borrow his car) and insisted that the two of us went. We had to drive since we couldn't rent a car out there (we're too young), and the 30-hour drives were brutal, but they were well worth it. Yay for a super, super cheap, week-long road trip!
Of course, a day into the vacation, the camera I've had for 4 years broke. So I had to buy disposable cameras. As soon as I get them developed, you'll see pictures on Facebook. The mountains were so unbelievably gorgeous. And downtown was equally beautiful. SLC is easily the most clean and up-kept city I've ever seen. And while the Mormons may seem a little crazy (yes, the Joseph Smith story about the Mormon religion from South Park is 100% true), they are by far the nicest people I've ever met. And the Mormon Tabernacle Choir gave me shivers.
Spending 9 straight days with Andrew was also incredible. I already miss him terribly, and we just went our separate ways two hours ago. I hate weekdays.
- I feel:
sleepy
I got my acceptance from U of M yesterday. :)
Even though I was pretty blatantly told (repeatedly) from the woman in charge of admissions that I'd be accepted, I'm still glowing. I'm so, so excited for this program.
My leg is still a bitch. Surprise, surprise. I had a nuclear bone scan done two weeks ago which, not surprisingly, came back negative. So I'm having an exploratory arthroscopy done on April 30. It's only a pseudo-surgery, so I won't count it as knee surgery #6, but it still sucks. I graduate from college, and 4 days later, go back in to get my leg cut open. Lame.
I think March and April might kill me? It'll be interesting. My thesis is completely kicking my ass. Talking to Dr. J makes me feel like a complete 'tard. His Math 479 class is kicking my ass, too. But I got the only 100% on the first Math 416 exam. :) Confidence boost? I just have a lot of papers and projects due in March and April. A lot. And my thesis, which I'm presenting at Symposium. Oh, and Sarah's wedding is the same day as Symposium, which is awful. And I interviewed for a fellowship on Tuesday. If I made it through that round of cuts (which I'm kind of doubting - I hate interviews) I'll have to go out to Philadelphia in March for a face-to-face interview. We'll see.
And then I start grad school in June! Yay! And I get to live in my super cute new apartment in September! :) Now I'm glad I made the leap and signed the lease for that before my official acceptance..
Even though I was pretty blatantly told (repeatedly) from the woman in charge of admissions that I'd be accepted, I'm still glowing. I'm so, so excited for this program.
My leg is still a bitch. Surprise, surprise. I had a nuclear bone scan done two weeks ago which, not surprisingly, came back negative. So I'm having an exploratory arthroscopy done on April 30. It's only a pseudo-surgery, so I won't count it as knee surgery #6, but it still sucks. I graduate from college, and 4 days later, go back in to get my leg cut open. Lame.
I think March and April might kill me? It'll be interesting. My thesis is completely kicking my ass. Talking to Dr. J makes me feel like a complete 'tard. His Math 479 class is kicking my ass, too. But I got the only 100% on the first Math 416 exam. :) Confidence boost? I just have a lot of papers and projects due in March and April. A lot. And my thesis, which I'm presenting at Symposium. Oh, and Sarah's wedding is the same day as Symposium, which is awful. And I interviewed for a fellowship on Tuesday. If I made it through that round of cuts (which I'm kind of doubting - I hate interviews) I'll have to go out to Philadelphia in March for a face-to-face interview. We'll see.
And then I start grad school in June! Yay! And I get to live in my super cute new apartment in September! :) Now I'm glad I made the leap and signed the lease for that before my official acceptance..
- I feel:
content
Whenever you hear stories about great love, the first thing they mention is appearance.
"I saw your mother from across the room, and I swear she was glowing. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen."
No guy will ever tell this story about me.
I just feel ridiculously unattractive and trapped in my own body.
I'm not completely hideous, but I'm certainly no beauty.
And the cane destroys any image of femininity I can begin to conjure.
Not to mention, I can't work out, so although I'm not technically overweight, I feel like I am.
I feel like a freak.
My leg has been awful this weekend. Absolutely awful. Crying and screaming. Literally screaming.
Even Andrew treats me differently when I'm in pain.
I mean, I'm glad you're not trying to come on to me while I'm in excruciating pain.
But I instantly go from being this somewhat cute, strong woman to being this frail, helpless, hideous burden.
I'm not the most aesthetically pleasing girl. My strength has always made up for my looks.
But that veneer of strength is gone the moment I yelp. I hate that.
Recently, I've been trying to come to terms with my future. Namely, my future with this leg.
It doesn't seem like a terrible fate - walking with a cane.
But I won't be able to walk myself down the isle to get married.
Or dance at my wedding.
Or hold my kids and pace their rooms to calm them as they cry.
Or teach my kids to ride a bike.
And right now, I just want to feel pretty. And God damn you. Seriously.
Fuck, I hate how depressed I get when my leg sucks.
"I saw your mother from across the room, and I swear she was glowing. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen."
No guy will ever tell this story about me.
I just feel ridiculously unattractive and trapped in my own body.
I'm not completely hideous, but I'm certainly no beauty.
And the cane destroys any image of femininity I can begin to conjure.
Not to mention, I can't work out, so although I'm not technically overweight, I feel like I am.
I feel like a freak.
My leg has been awful this weekend. Absolutely awful. Crying and screaming. Literally screaming.
Even Andrew treats me differently when I'm in pain.
I mean, I'm glad you're not trying to come on to me while I'm in excruciating pain.
But I instantly go from being this somewhat cute, strong woman to being this frail, helpless, hideous burden.
I'm not the most aesthetically pleasing girl. My strength has always made up for my looks.
But that veneer of strength is gone the moment I yelp. I hate that.
Recently, I've been trying to come to terms with my future. Namely, my future with this leg.
It doesn't seem like a terrible fate - walking with a cane.
But I won't be able to walk myself down the isle to get married.
Or dance at my wedding.
Or hold my kids and pace their rooms to calm them as they cry.
Or teach my kids to ride a bike.
And right now, I just want to feel pretty. And God damn you. Seriously.
Fuck, I hate how depressed I get when my leg sucks.
- I feel: depressed
So, apparently Ann Arbor hates cripples.
I've only been able to find two leasing agencies that have any one-bedroom apartments that are reasonably handicap-accessible (a.k.a. are on ground floor with few/no stairs leading into the building). Most places told me they had nothing at all, and a few told me that they had handicap rooms, but they were all two-bedroom. Because cripples can't live alone, right?
I'm checking out a couple places tomorrow. Should be interesting. And hella fucking expensive, should I actually find a place.
Oh, and I'm definitely living alone.
Not sure how I feel about this semester's classes. All I know is that I graduate in 3 months and I want sooo badly to walk (a.k.a. gimp) across that stage with a 4.0 cumulative. So I need to keep my head in the game, despite an intense case of senioritis.
I love math. Probably more than anything else in the world. God, I'm lame.
I haven't been wearing my sling like I'm supposed to. Oops. Nor did I enroll in physical therapy. Oops. It feels pretty good, though. A little sore at times, but I haven't taken pain medication in weeks.
I woke up with a wicked sore throat today and have been popping throat lozenges like it's my job.
Oh, and I'm 95.
I started getting dizzy spells right before shoulder surgery. Awkward. Intense. Disorienting. Short but frequent. Went to a clinic on the 3rd. She gave me a pregnancy test, which was (thankfully) negative, checked my ears, and told me to go straight to the ER to get a CAT scan. Naturally, I begin to panic. Four hours later chillin' in the U of M Hospital ER with Andrew, I get a diagnosis: Vertigo. I have fucking vertigo. Don't only 87-year-olds get this shit? So now I have vertigo and arthritis. Happily, the vertigo I have is positional (I can't turn/lay down on the left without the room nearly blacking out), so it's only temporary and should fade out over the next couple weeks.
Vertigo. And arthritis. And a cane.
Fucking shoot me.
I'm in a strangely good mood. I think it's because I'm finally coming to terms with the insanity that is/will be my life for the next couple months. That, and I'm kicking ass at Dr. J's Problem Solving homework (Math 479).
I've only been able to find two leasing agencies that have any one-bedroom apartments that are reasonably handicap-accessible (a.k.a. are on ground floor with few/no stairs leading into the building). Most places told me they had nothing at all, and a few told me that they had handicap rooms, but they were all two-bedroom. Because cripples can't live alone, right?
I'm checking out a couple places tomorrow. Should be interesting. And hella fucking expensive, should I actually find a place.
Oh, and I'm definitely living alone.
Not sure how I feel about this semester's classes. All I know is that I graduate in 3 months and I want sooo badly to walk (a.k.a. gimp) across that stage with a 4.0 cumulative. So I need to keep my head in the game, despite an intense case of senioritis.
I love math. Probably more than anything else in the world. God, I'm lame.
I haven't been wearing my sling like I'm supposed to. Oops. Nor did I enroll in physical therapy. Oops. It feels pretty good, though. A little sore at times, but I haven't taken pain medication in weeks.
I woke up with a wicked sore throat today and have been popping throat lozenges like it's my job.
Oh, and I'm 95.
I started getting dizzy spells right before shoulder surgery. Awkward. Intense. Disorienting. Short but frequent. Went to a clinic on the 3rd. She gave me a pregnancy test, which was (thankfully) negative, checked my ears, and told me to go straight to the ER to get a CAT scan. Naturally, I begin to panic. Four hours later chillin' in the U of M Hospital ER with Andrew, I get a diagnosis: Vertigo. I have fucking vertigo. Don't only 87-year-olds get this shit? So now I have vertigo and arthritis. Happily, the vertigo I have is positional (I can't turn/lay down on the left without the room nearly blacking out), so it's only temporary and should fade out over the next couple weeks.
Vertigo. And arthritis. And a cane.
Fucking shoot me.
I'm in a strangely good mood. I think it's because I'm finally coming to terms with the insanity that is/will be my life for the next couple months. That, and I'm kicking ass at Dr. J's Problem Solving homework (Math 479).
- I feel: sleepy
Leap of faith, leap of faith. Leap of faith, leap of faith..
Only thing to do is...jump over the moon?
I don't feel ready to be a big kid. At all.
I'm going apartment shopping for the first time ever this week. I've already done a lot of looking online, and have a few places in mind, but a LOT of places, particularly on central campus, are already sold out, and I don't really want to get stuck living on campus because the only place UM grad students can live is North Campus, which would require a lot of commuting on the bus every day.
Oh, and I'm going apartment shopping with Andrew because we're still strongly considering living together.
Oh, and I haven't even gotten my acceptance letter yet and probably won't for a couple more weeks.
So....
Do I take the leap and sign a lease before the acceptance so I can actually get an apartment for less than $1000/month (not even overexaggerating - the one I like is nearly $800/month, and that's by far the cheapest I found), or do I wait for the acceptance letter that I was verbally promised and risk either not getting a place or having to live on campus?
I don't wanna grow up!!!!!
And all you people getting married...I'm really, really excited for you, but the fact that I'm old enough to have friends getting married scares the shit out of me because I couldn't possibly see myself being in your shoes.
Only thing to do is...jump over the moon?
I don't feel ready to be a big kid. At all.
I'm going apartment shopping for the first time ever this week. I've already done a lot of looking online, and have a few places in mind, but a LOT of places, particularly on central campus, are already sold out, and I don't really want to get stuck living on campus because the only place UM grad students can live is North Campus, which would require a lot of commuting on the bus every day.
Oh, and I'm going apartment shopping with Andrew because we're still strongly considering living together.
Oh, and I haven't even gotten my acceptance letter yet and probably won't for a couple more weeks.
So....
Do I take the leap and sign a lease before the acceptance so I can actually get an apartment for less than $1000/month (not even overexaggerating - the one I like is nearly $800/month, and that's by far the cheapest I found), or do I wait for the acceptance letter that I was verbally promised and risk either not getting a place or having to live on campus?
I don't wanna grow up!!!!!
And all you people getting married...I'm really, really excited for you, but the fact that I'm old enough to have friends getting married scares the shit out of me because I couldn't possibly see myself being in your shoes.
- I feel: scared
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