I briefly got into it via text with my dad last night about politics. He is a staunch Republican and gun nut, and I am a staunch Dem, and many a fun family fight has been borne through our division.
He sent a series of shitty anti-Democrat memes to my e-mail, stuff about guns and Maxine Waters and immigrants; and I responded by saying that he should be glad that he raised a compassionate daughter that actually cared about the human race, and it just went downhill from there.
Thankfully we closed the argument by saying that we loved each other and that our experiences had shaped our world views, and we left it at that; but my Trump-touting father still makes my heart hurt.
I really can’t stand Trump, or many of his disciples. I think he’s a dangerous man, and what he preaches is poisonous. I wish that my dad had not jumped on board his particular train.
In other news, I feel pretty good this morning. After some coffee I’m going to hit the treadmill.
I got this giant mum from Costco and it’s just starting to bloom. It looks gorgeous on my front steps.
I just got back from ECT. Today they put Toradol and Zofran in my IV because I’ve been getting headaches and have been really nauseous. So far it’s helping.
I’m really grateful to Dean for schlepping me back and forth to treatment, and today my mom picked me up because he had to work early. It’s great to have people to depend on.
I plan to rest throughout most of the day, and then get my kitchen cleaned up and do some laundry. I’m planning on starting a diet today because I am seriously out of control with food. Right now I weigh about 220 pounds, which is ridiculous for my small 5’10 frame. I’ve been eating with wild abandon, and that has to stop. There’s a treadmill in my back bedroom that’s been absolutely stagnant, and I’m going to spend at least a half an hour per day on that as well. It’s time to get moving. I’m too old to expect to have a stellar metabolism without exercise.
With that, I’m off like a prom dress.
Yesterday’s ECT was rough. I woke up quickly, felt OK to go out to breakfast with my dad afterwards, and had a conversation with Jasmine when I got home, but I had crazy memory loss and a throbbing headache at the base of my skull that was so bad I wound up going to bed at four o’clock in the afternoon.
They seem to be getting worse every time, and I sincerely hope that this trend will not continue.
I do feel marginally better today, though, so hopefully it’s just treatment days that I’m going to feel like crap.
One thing I’m truly grateful for is that Dean and my family have volunteered to drive me at 6:30 in the morning three days per week. My dad was off yesterday so he took me, my mom is taking me tomorrow, and even though Dean works 2-2s he has no problem waking up at 6 to head over to the hospital in East Chicago. That’s one hell of a good friend.
The nurses on the same-day surgery unit (ECT is considered same-day surgery) are fantastic, too. They’re all very kind and pleasant to be around.
So far this has been pretty good except for the physical side effects.
In other news, I need to think of a badass Halloween costume. Jasmine and her boyfriend are dressing up as Daphne and Fred because our dog looks like Scooby Doo. Shaggy, perhaps? Heh.
I also need to go on a diet, because I have been absolutely pigging out and am roughly the size of a land yacht. There is nothing I hate more than measuring food.
On that note, off I go to drink the coffee.
I seriously need to quit shoving food into my gaping maw, because even my fat jeans are ridiculously tight on me at this point.
With ECT taking place three mornings a week, I’m exhausted and the gym isn’t happening; so I strongly need to cut back on my caloric intake along with my activity level.
It’s rough trying to eat healthy. I am not naturally a salad eatin’ bitch, and I fell off the keto wagon in a rather spectacular fashion. Last night I ate an entire medium pizza from one of the area’s finest places, crust and all, and then felt like absolute crap.
My stomach looms large, and I’ve got to chill. I don’t want to swing too far the other way and veer back into eating disorder territory, but there must be some balance to be found.
I guess what stumps me is that throughout my life I have only ever eaten too much or too little. I have absolutely no clue what a normal meal plan is. This is something I need to research.
I probably could cut back on my beer intake, too, if I’m being honest. I really don’t need to drink beer three nights per week. That’s just excessive empty calories and carbs.
I’m watching my very tiny neighbor get something out of her trunk and I want to yell, “Hey, WHAT DO YOU EAT?”
She probably would think I’m insane. KNOW I’m insane. Heh.
Small people? Lend me your eating habits.
I’m feeling better this afternoon. This morning I had intense brain fog, was tired, and felt inordinately shitty; but that seems to have lifted, thank god.
I’m concerned that with each consecutive treatment these feelings are going to worsen, but I’m sure that the end result will be worth it. Again, a ninety percent success rate can’t be wrong.
I’ve had to delete my family members from my Facebook since I link to this site from there, and my mom was very concerned about my airing “dirty laundry”. I personally believe that it’s my dirty laundry to air, so on I go.
If I were spilling my mom’s dark secrets, it would be another matter.
I’m pretty much an open book. I think that life’s too short not to be honest with both yourself and others. Maybe I do it on a public platform, but I’m a writer. I write.
Signing off, your favorite oversharer.
Yeah. Totally out of it at this point.
I had my second ECT this morning and I feel like absolute crap. I came home and slept for a few hours, which doesn’t feel like nearly enough, and my neck is outrageously sore.
I hope that this won’t be a continuing trend, but something tells me it will be. I guess it will be worth it in the long run.
At least I cleaned my house yesterday. It’s always nice to come home to a nice clean house!
My father told me recently that he thinks I need religion, which was pretty interesting coming from a man who hasn’t graced the inside of a house of worship in at least thirty years.
I don’t agree. I’m not much for religion. I identify as agnostic; which basically means that while I do believe something divine or meaningful is probably out there, I’m certainly not going to pretend that I know what it is, or that my particular beliefs trump anyone else’s.
You want to practice Judaism, Christianity, Buddhism, Wicca, or Reiki? Have at it! If it brings you comfort or joy or better yet, makes you a kinder and more tolerant person, rock on with your bad self. It seems to me, however, that the majority of religious people are at least somewhat close-minded when it comes to their fellow men and women. That’s just what I’ve noticed as an observer.
Notice I said “some” and not “all”. My friend Jessie is kind, generous with her time, and accepting. She is also a proud Methodist. All those things are not mutually exclusive. I don’t judge based upon Jesus.
Still, I do wonder how people have such strong faith when there are so many strong faiths to choose from. The Zen Buddhists believe they’re on the path to enlightenment. The Christians believe in heaven. Somewhere deep in the heart of Africa, a child prays to a carved stone god. Who’s to say who’s correct, if anyone?
When I pray – and I do pray – I talk to the moon at night. Although I am agnostic and don’t really believe that the moon holds any particular power, it comforts me to temporarily believe that for a moment, something is hearing my words or thoughts. It’s very soul-soothing.
Maybe that’s all religion is, after all. A Band-Aid for the soul. Who doesn’t need that?
I love my cats. I am a consummate crazy cat lady, I would probably have two more if I had a bigger house, and the front porch where I spend an embarrassing amount of my time is littered with their toys.
I think most things that they do are pretty entertaining (save sleeping), and they rarely annoy me. However, Skittles has one trait that does annoy me, and that is her tendency to constantly lick me wherever I go. No limb is safe from her tongue. While I’m sleeping, she licks my outstretched arms. Even when I’m wearing socks in the house, she licks my socks.
This is part of the reason I don’t like dogs – something about being tongue molested just seems like it should only be done between two people of consenting age. Call me old-fashioned.
Skittles is a good and faithful cat, and if I call her from anywhere in the house while she’s sound asleep she will come running, but I’ve got to admit that it’s kind of scary to taste that good to a pet.
I mention this because I just woke up a few minutes ago and was trapped in my bed by both cats – one purring and furiously licking me, and the other purring and furiously burrowing her head into my stomach.
People that say cats are standoffish need to come visit me.
Have a great day.