Don't make Worse angry.
Wednesday, 23 February 2011 09:51![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_bit_of_wit_2Now that I've had a weekend to relax and recover over the week of fail that was, I can go into this week with a clearer head, and a less painful ass area.
The only bright spot of last week, I could honestly say, was Monday, where nothing bad happened.
Last Tuesday, I'd gone for a checkup with the rectal surgeon so he could look at his handiwork; I was relieved that I took some hydrocodone before going to see him--he ended up prying me open, resulting in me bleeding heavily all down my legs, and all over his table. After that bit of fun, he then proceeds to tell me that the surgery has essentially stopped healing, and that he'd like to do MORE surgery to find out why--I didn't think of it then, being all doped up, but if it's Crohn's disease preventing this surgery from fully closing, why would he think that exploratory surgery would do the trick? Regardless, he wanted me to go for a barium trace to see if I have any active Crohn's.
Wednesday, after work, April and I went on our Valentine's Day date, heading to Crossgates for dinner and a movie. We went to see "The King's Speech," which, by the way, was a great movie. After, we had a nice dinner, and all seemed on track for a lovely evening--until I got home, and found out that our family dog was put down.
Thursday was spent thinking way too much, primarily mulling over the events of the doctor visit. I believe that it was the combined stress of full-time work, half-time college, and being hit with a sobering reminder that I can't do everything anymore--my body will simply not allow it. It didn't stop feelings of failure from creeping in, and suddenly it was MCLA back in 2004 all over again--crying, knowing I'd have to leave school. Again. For yet another reason beyond my control--it's very hard to think rationally when I'm becoming convinced that Fate simply doesn't want me to have a college education. I keep being thwarted.
On Friday, I had my barium trace, where you drink cups of nasty, white chalky barium as timed x-ray pics are taken of your abdomen while the stuff works its way through. After having several cups of that for breakfast, I felt pretty unsettled by the end; it also meant I'd be shitting white for two days. After the exam, we headed over to Sage where I could formally withdraw; or more specifically, take an extended leave of absence, thus having to prevent me re-applying. Whether I'll get any money back, I don't know, but regardless, it had to be done.
Later that evening, Nick came in from Binghamton for the weekend, and as we were heading out to dinner, the Universe gave me one final kick in the ass--the car died. Refused to start. After Ben arrived on Saturday, I had to call a tow truck to take it to the Midas right up the street, and found out that the car needs about $1400 of work on it; not all of it needed now (I found out that the spark plugs were dead, and I flooded the engine with fuel in my repeated attempts to start the car). So April and I spent several hundred getting the thing running; it works now.
And so was the week from hell.
So far, things aren't bad this week.
The only thing I'm dreading is Friday, where I have to go back to the surgeon and find out what the barium trace yielded. If there was anything, and he wants more surgery, I'm probably going to get a second opinion--having surgery once already sidelined me for 8 weeks; I was lucky then, having enough sick time, vacation, and personal time to still be paid throughout that entire run. If I have surgery again and need to be out for an extended period, I will take a drastic cut in income--namely, because I've no sick, vacation, or personal time left.
I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't bounce back as quickly as I once did; having an auto-immune disease simply can't allow that to happen. This is going to take some time.
Here's to better days--for everyone; myself, my wife, my family, and my friends.
The only bright spot of last week, I could honestly say, was Monday, where nothing bad happened.
Last Tuesday, I'd gone for a checkup with the rectal surgeon so he could look at his handiwork; I was relieved that I took some hydrocodone before going to see him--he ended up prying me open, resulting in me bleeding heavily all down my legs, and all over his table. After that bit of fun, he then proceeds to tell me that the surgery has essentially stopped healing, and that he'd like to do MORE surgery to find out why--I didn't think of it then, being all doped up, but if it's Crohn's disease preventing this surgery from fully closing, why would he think that exploratory surgery would do the trick? Regardless, he wanted me to go for a barium trace to see if I have any active Crohn's.
Wednesday, after work, April and I went on our Valentine's Day date, heading to Crossgates for dinner and a movie. We went to see "The King's Speech," which, by the way, was a great movie. After, we had a nice dinner, and all seemed on track for a lovely evening--until I got home, and found out that our family dog was put down.
Thursday was spent thinking way too much, primarily mulling over the events of the doctor visit. I believe that it was the combined stress of full-time work, half-time college, and being hit with a sobering reminder that I can't do everything anymore--my body will simply not allow it. It didn't stop feelings of failure from creeping in, and suddenly it was MCLA back in 2004 all over again--crying, knowing I'd have to leave school. Again. For yet another reason beyond my control--it's very hard to think rationally when I'm becoming convinced that Fate simply doesn't want me to have a college education. I keep being thwarted.
On Friday, I had my barium trace, where you drink cups of nasty, white chalky barium as timed x-ray pics are taken of your abdomen while the stuff works its way through. After having several cups of that for breakfast, I felt pretty unsettled by the end; it also meant I'd be shitting white for two days. After the exam, we headed over to Sage where I could formally withdraw; or more specifically, take an extended leave of absence, thus having to prevent me re-applying. Whether I'll get any money back, I don't know, but regardless, it had to be done.
Later that evening, Nick came in from Binghamton for the weekend, and as we were heading out to dinner, the Universe gave me one final kick in the ass--the car died. Refused to start. After Ben arrived on Saturday, I had to call a tow truck to take it to the Midas right up the street, and found out that the car needs about $1400 of work on it; not all of it needed now (I found out that the spark plugs were dead, and I flooded the engine with fuel in my repeated attempts to start the car). So April and I spent several hundred getting the thing running; it works now.
And so was the week from hell.
So far, things aren't bad this week.
The only thing I'm dreading is Friday, where I have to go back to the surgeon and find out what the barium trace yielded. If there was anything, and he wants more surgery, I'm probably going to get a second opinion--having surgery once already sidelined me for 8 weeks; I was lucky then, having enough sick time, vacation, and personal time to still be paid throughout that entire run. If I have surgery again and need to be out for an extended period, I will take a drastic cut in income--namely, because I've no sick, vacation, or personal time left.
I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't bounce back as quickly as I once did; having an auto-immune disease simply can't allow that to happen. This is going to take some time.
Here's to better days--for everyone; myself, my wife, my family, and my friends.
