It's not over...

Well, the pity party isn't over yet.  I thought that I got it out last night, but who was I fooling. I am still wanting to complain, and maybe once I do a little more, I'll get over myself. 

First of all, I feel like screaming loud and long.  That won't really work right now...seeing as I am hooked up to an IV in a room surrounded by people.  Getting one of the gazillion I have already gotten, and still have left to go.

Second of all, I am tired of all this crying.  That also makes me want to scream. 

And let me tell you about steroids.  They are awful.  They turn you into a red, puffy-faced monster.  As if I don't already feel ugly enough, I get hit with a weight gain of 5 pounds overnight, devil cheeks, sausage fingers, insomnia, ravenous food cravings that can't be satisfied because I can't eat anything I am craving, and irritability. 

I have an anal fissure which is about one of the most painful things I have ever had to deal with.  I've had it for over a month now, and there are no signs of healing.  Sorry if this is TMI, but this is the shit I am dealing with, and it has to come out if I feel like I've fully complained. 

I made dinner last night, barely...Michael had to work late.  And me with these darn food cravings, had to eat.  And, we had our CSA food that we insist on eating before it goes bad.  I made rainbow chard, sweet potato, and sausage--all local, all organic, all from our CSA.  This is actually something that made me happy.  But damn if I couldn't make the dinner without having to go and sit down every 5 minutes.  And you better believe I didn't even bother with cleaning up afterwards. 

I was almost asleep by the time Michael got home.  But we had some time to connect and be together.  We went to bed around 10 and of course...when it is bed time I am NOT TIRED!  WTF???  The damn steroids!!  So I got up and took some GABA and managed to toss and turn all night.

I've been awake since 6am, and finally annoyed Michael enough with my huffs that he suggested we get up and go for a walk.  I asked it if was raining--he looked outside, and said NO!  So we got all dressed and bundled and Curtis all excited, to open the door to ...rain...Oh well, were were up and about, so we braved the rain and wind.  And it was kind of funny. 

We come in, and I am cold and wet, but can't take a warm shower because I have this port needle in my chest.  And CAN'T shower 4 days a week.  So I huffed about that and proceeded to make breakfast in the small space I could find that wasn't junked up by our dinner dishes. 

And then I can't get dressed because everything I put on makes me feel fat, and I hate the way that fabric feels on my body.  I soak my puffy eyes in a warm wash cloth, and I just realize there is no use.  I am ugly.

I just don't feel good. I don't feel good.  I don't feel like myself.  I have a vice clamp over my brain, I am foggy headed, tired and just plain yuck.

I feel nausea begin to set in, and just think, great...welcome back.  Glad to have you.  And I pack my bags and head to the doctor.

***screammmmmmm***

I'm just in a funk.  It took 6 treatments to get here, but I have arrived.  I will get an attitude adjustment soon, but just give me this for now.

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