This song has been stuck in my head all day.

And I’m perfectly fine with that.

Jaret from Soup + Ryan from Smile Smile = People On Vacation

I’m super bummed I didn’t get to go to  one of their first shows last Friday. 

 

Five Months

Tomorrow will be 5 months since I got in my wreck and lost my car.  FIVE.  MONTHS.  One, two, three, four, FIVE.  Five months since I picked up Tallulah from the vet and everything changed.  Five months of relying on others to take me places.  Five months of having to make sure someone’s schedule is clear when I need to run to Walgreen’s or the bank or supper with my friends or ANYWHERE.  I try not to think about it a lot, as it drives me absolutely insane.

Nana and Papa have gone above and beyond helping me out and taking me places and for that I am forever grateful.  Four months, four weeks and 2 days ago they pretty much changed everything and let me move in so they could take me to work and school until I got another car.  I honestly thought I’d have a car by now, but then again, I also thought I would still have a well paying job, but that’s another story for another day.

Tomorrow night some of my friends are getting together for dinner and karaoke and to celebrate one’s birthday.  I really want to go, but I have things I have to work out first.  How will I get there?  Where will I spend the night?  How will I get back home?  These are the things I have to think about these days.  This is my reality now.

Do I like it?  Absolutely not.  Is there anything I can do about it?  Not really.  Am I dealing with it?  For the most part.  Most days.  I didn’t plan for that girl to pull out in front of me.  I didn’t plan for my car to crumble the way it did.  Nobody wakes up one day and says, “You know, I think I’m going to total my car today.”  Well, most people anyway.

I’m thankful I have who love me and help me out.  I’m grateful Tallulah was okay.  I’m thankful the people in the other five cars were okay.  I’m thankful that I’m okay.  I know it could have been a lot worse and I try to remind myself that every day.  Even more when I have days like I did Monday where all I want to do is feel sorry for myself.  A lot of things change when the freedoms you’ve had from having a car for four years are taken away from you in an instant.

I want to hate the girl that cut me off with every fiber of my being, but that’s not who I am.  I just don’t have it in me.  It angers me that she didn’t have that much damage to her car and that even though she admitted she pulled in front of me, I hit her from behind a few seconds after she hit the four cars in front of her and yeah it was legally my fault.

I know I’m more than blessed.  I may not have a car but I have a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food on the table, I’m in school, I have friends and family that love me and so much more.  All I have to do is look back at pictures of my car and even though I get furious about what happened, I know that the angels were busy that day because I not only walked away, I only had a few bruises.

Yes I get mad and sad and frustrated and when I do, I just remind my self that everything will happen in His time; I have no control over any of it.  If anything this has been one big, long, huge lesson in patience and I don’t think I’m anywhere near having finished learning it.  Everything happens for a reason, even if we don’t know what that reason is.

Weird Staple Girl

Today was the first day of classes.  Me being me, forgot my paper at home telling me where my classes were.  Luckily I knew who my Psychology instructor was and stalked passed her in the hall and followed her to my room.  Nana went home and text me the room number for World Lit. Which, yeah. 

We had to introduce ourselves and tell the class a little bit about us.  Most people said their name and what theire major was and left it at that.  Um, not me.

“Hi, I’m Katie.  I’m 22.  I didn’t think I’d get to come to school this semester because two weeks ago Friday, I had emergency surgery to have my gall bladder removed before it exploded.  I like photography and  I am leaving straight from class to head to the doctor to have my staples removed.  I have seventeen.  They’re quite itchy.  *Pause* Um, I tend to overshare sometimes.  Sorry.”

Pretty sure they think I’m some weird staple girl now.

When the nurse was removing my staples, she found three hidden in my belly button.  This means I had 20 staples instead of 17.  I was so excited.  I made the nurse count to make sure.  Odd numbers suck.  I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m some weird staple girl, too.

Huh.  Weird staple girl.  That may make a good username one day…

I may want to frame it!

 

 

You’re welcome!

I can’t believe I haven’t posted all year!

Which now that I look back, I’ve actually posted twice.  Two times that I don’t remember posting.  Seriously it was like reading it for the first time.  Hello, Vicodin!

As I said, I had a doctor’s appointment set up for next Friday to get a referral for a surgeon to get my gall bladder removed.  Yeah, well my gall bladder had other plans.  Thursday morning about 3:30, I started having another attack.  I took the pain pills they sent me home from the ER with and pretty much slept all day.  (Other than the 4 times I was up dry heaving.)  I was going to just wait it out until my appointment the next day until I looked at my paper from the ER and it said to return immediately if I started throwing up or the pain got worse.

So, I showered, put on fresh jammies, packed a bag just in case they decided to admit me and headed back to the ER.  At first there was a wait, but it’s amazing how fast people move when you tell them you’re having severe chest pains!  They got me back to a room, gave me some Morphine (Sweet Baby Jesus!  Best.  Thing.  Ever.) and did another ultra sound.

They decided that it was too much of a risk to wait and that I was going to be admitted so they could do surgery Friday and get my gall bladder out before it exploded.  Cool, huh?

The doctor came back and talked me through everything and, I blame it on the Morphine, but I asked if he was the surgeon because his name scared me and I didn’t want him anywhere near my gall bladder because I didn’t know what he’d do with it.

His name was Dr. Stephen King.

I’m too sexy for my gall bladder. 
Too sexy for my gall bladder. 
So sexy it huuurts.

I got to my room just as the sun was coming up and dozed in and out of sleep as Nana left and Melissa came to keep me company so I wouldn’t be alone.  (I know that was a huge deal for you and I appreciate everything you did so, so much!)

I was told that I would have surgery that day, they just didn’t know what time yet so they’d come up and let me know.  They lied.  About 10:00 they came to get me to sign papers and then told me they were ready to wheel me up to surgery.  I FREAKED out and started crying.

Nana wasn’t there.  Daddie was in the middle of an appointment with Dr. Asshat* and Momma was at work tying up loose ends so she could come stay with me.  Melissa was there and although she is one of my best friends, I wanted an adult there.  I was scared. 

I did laugh a bit though when the nurses eyed each other and asked who she was.  I’m 99.9% sure they thought we were gay.

They took me to surgery and I made them wait until I saw Nana before I went back.  They explained everything to me, Nana showed up, I met with the anesthesiologist and my surgeon and then they gave me a shot of something. 

Right before I started speaking Spanish.

Next thing I remember is being in the recovery room, poking the nurse every few minutes and asking, “I’m alive?  Are you sure?  I don’t want to be dead and think I’m alive.”

I spent the next 24 hours sleeping on and off and getting Morphine whenever I could.  That stuff is the shit, I tell you.  I came home Saturday and have been recovering since.  Vicodin is my best friend (Morphine is my BFF) when it comes to pain.  I normally take one and sleep, but today I was brave and took one before I went to register for classes.  People watch got a lot more fun when it kicked in.

I have 17 staples and it makes me mad.  It couldn’t have been 16 or 18 to make me happy.  Sigh.  I get them removed next week.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the thoughts, prayers, comments, tweets and visitors!  They mean the world.  And worked!  Also, may apologizes to Momma for hollering, “Bitch, please!  This isn’t apple juice!” when she unknowingly handed me unsalted beef broth.

I have a week to rest up until school starts and then it’s back to normal, I guess.  Whatever that may be.

*Three years ago I had kidney stones and went to the ER.  They told me that I had gall stones, too, and needed to check with my PCP about them.  I went and he told me that I didn’t have any, he didn’t know what they were talking about and that the pain I was having were anxiety attacks.  Turns out every time I’ve had an “anxiety attack” the past three years, I’ve really been having a gall bladder attack. 

I had a lot of plans for 2011.

Things that included blogging and pictures and reading and a lot of other things besides being propped up in the corner of my bed sleeping and watching Twilight True Blood The Vampire Diaries.

I have a doctor’s appointment set for Friday afternoon and they’ll decide what happens from there.  Until then I guess I’ll pretend it’s still 2010 and start my own version of 2011 as soon as I get all of this behind me.

Thanks to everyone fro the wall postings, calls, texts, comments and all around well wishes.  They really do mean the world to me.

This post is brought to you VERY early in the morning.

From the girl who probably still has pain meds in her system and is loopy, but cant sleep because I have a hangover from hell from said pain medication.

Happy 2011!

So far mine hasn't been too happy! I was fine, talking to Melissa (who I suddenly realize needs a nickname!) while she talked NanananananananaNATE on the phone. Boom Boom and Sissy were passed out, each in a bed as we watched Blue's Clues.

And all I have to say about that is Steve is The Man! Joe kind of sucks.

Anywho, Melissa went home about 9:00 that morning sonata wouldn't get in trouble and I got comfy on the couch to fall asleep. I slept from about 10:15 that morning, until about noon. I was CRANKY!

About 2:45 that afternoon, I got that familiar feeling. That feeling where someone was slowly grabbing my ribs and squeezing as tight as they could. I had talked to my doctor about it a few years back and he told me I was having anxiety attacks. I was told to stay calm and get as comfortable as I can and "No Xanax because it's too addictive." (For the record, I can take HALF of the smallest dose and I'm out for hours.)

I tried to wTh The Bubs play Halo, but I couldn't get comfortable, as it hurt to lean against anything, and I was dry heaving some. (A total of 6 times. Ick.)

I assumed I was just tired since I'd only had two hours of sleep in the past 24. I took some Simply Sleep and dozed in and out for a few hours. It wasn't that good sleep though. It was the kind where you think you're asleep, but you can still hear everything going on.

I went and got my Lulu from outside, because dogs to cuddle with make merles scared, and waited up all night until I knew Nan would be awake, giving Papa his shot.

She beat me up and, after seeing my Facebook statuses, told me she was coming to take me to the ER. I still shouldn't be having an anxiety attack 16 hours later.

Yes. SIXTEEN HOURS of someone squeezing my ribs as hard as they could. I'm crazy, I know. I just figured I'd be okay until someone could come get me. (Did I mention I was at my former step mother's house? Alone. Because I was supposed to watch the kids, but ended up not being able to.) I wasn't about to wake anyone up and God and I had a deal that if it got too bad, I'd call 911.

7:00 AM rolls around and I roll into the ER. THE ER WHERE THERE AREN'T ANY OTHER PATIENTS! I was thrilled!

After an x ray, an ultra sound, five hours and a VERY scary time where I had an adverse reaction to the Dilaudid and seriously thought I was dying, they brought my Pulse Ox up and got me some ice.

Apparently I was loud (my ears were stopped up) and a bitch. All I remember is dozing off while sending a text and the next thing I know, people were screaming my name, but I couldn't respond. Then I wanted to change my pants because I'd peed the bed and know when Boom Boom was going to be there with my Sprite.

Turns out I have gall stones and was having a gall bladder attack. I get to meet with a surgeon tomorrow and see of it has to be taken out.

Wish me luck!