Monthly Archives: August 2012
Another Butterfly
To save money, Mommy and I are only taking one suitcase (plus two carry-ons, of course!) to Bali. So, today I took my clothes over to her place (with only the normal amount of arguing).
Hmm, I think I’m beginning to get slightly anxious.
I don’t know why: it’s not like it actually matters if I forget anything – they have shops! I’m taking my lap-top, my phone, my camera, a letter to Customs (in case, they think I’m importing all my drugs!), the Fifty Shades trilogy to read by the pool, money and sunscreen. I mean, really? What else do I need?
I’ve painted my toe nails, gotten rid of the appropriate hair and organised some-one to pick up my mail. I mean, really? What else do I need to do?
So, why is my tummy doing flip-flops?
It’s SUPER LAWYER!
So, today I actually did some legal work – okay, I only executed some legal work (meaning I had it all signed appropriately). I had completed all the preparation previously.
A family friend of ours is returning to live in Israel however, he owns a property here. He wanted to give some-one an Enduring Power of Attorney (Financial). Technically, it is nothing difficult.
BUT, after (unwisely) choosing to walk to where we were meeting, I was (um…) slightly scattered. Sign here. Date here. Sign here now. Another date. Blah! Blah! Blah! Okay – completed. Now photocopy five times, staple and certify every page (that’s 15 pages!).
Firstly, I stapled the pages in the wrong order. Then I had to ‘unstaple’ the pages. Then I still stapled some of the pages in the wrong order. What the -?
Then it was certification time and I don’t have my own stamp – I have one at my office but not in my travelling lawyer kit. And one would think that after the first ten times of writing this is a true and complete copy of the original, I would be able to remember it. Nope! Wrong!
So, I guess this confirms that not working is probably a very good idea, Your Honour.
I Never Promised You a Rose Garden
I received a message from some-one today that had me thinking (not always a good thing!)…you know how you can have a bad day (or even just a blah day)? It can be a pain day; an emotionally draining day; a mentally challenging day, or just a depressing day.
And even when you say to yourself: that’s enough, time to stop feeling sorry for yourself…your face keeps leaking (that’s what I call it, because sometimes it’s for no reason whatsoever and the word crying doesn’t feel like the right word anymore).
I think (but I’m no expert) that sometimes it’s okay to own your pain (emotional and physical). It’s okay to feel like crap and let it out – it seems to me to be a normal response to what we go through each and every day. (That’s why I can’t handle all those over-the-top positive pages – I mean, really, who is THAT positive all of the time?)
Yes, we have to be careful not to let it over-take us too often. Yes, we have to make sure that we have the necessary tools to handle both the ups and downs. Yes, we need to recognise that our emotions are not us – they are something within us at the moment. As long as we realise that it WILL PASS.
We enjoy the ups – in fact, we write about them non-stop (when we have them), we congratulate each other, and we wish each other better times. But downs are part of life, too – and sometimes you just NEED to feel like this – so we should be able to embrace them (carefully), wallow in them (if we want to), and cuddle up in bed with them (and a heat pad) for a pity-party under the covers.
We need to HONOUR THE CYCLE: the world turns, the tides ebb and flow, the seasons change… Like the universe, our bodies are just a smaller version of it all. Things die and change and it hurts, but it is necessary to allow space for the new energy to move in.
Life is NOT always a rose garden!
Just Another Day Before Paradise
Had Mommy drop me up the street today so I could do some Op shopping and hit Target (silent T, of course! pronounced Tar-gé) Picked up a great purple summer-weight fedora for Bali (or for any other reason you can think of).
But then, ‘too tired’ hit (so much for pacing!). In my defence, there was no warning whatsoever. One minute I was jabbering away to a shop assistant (sorry – still having some manic moments) and then, the next moment, it was ‘I’m melting, I’m melting’ (think Wicked Witch of the West without the previous evil behaviour).
Had to make a phone call to my semi-step-sister-in-law (my Mommy lives in sin with Henry, whose son lives in sin with her (Miki) – told you I had a complicated family!), who was picking up my semi-step-nieces after school, for a rescue ride.
How am I ever going to be able to keep up my energy (and focus) for shopping (which means bargaining) in Bali?
On another Bali note, Mommy wants me to take out travel insurance. Theoretically, I have no problem with that – it’s only something like $80 for piece of mind (he! he! now I’m selling insurance!) except then we read the PDS (product disclosure statement) and notice that FM is NOT one of the pre-existing conditions covered by travel insurance! Now, if I(1) was their lawyer, and I(2) needed to go to hospital for any reason at all, then I(1) would be arguing that anything (and WE know that almost anything) I(2) was suffering from was caused by the FM, and therefore reject the claim.
Mommy says to me (at this stage of my argument): if I need to go to hospital, it will be at least $1,000.
I say: it will be at least $1,000 plus the $80 that we wasted on travel insurance.
Mommy: I just don’t want there to be a problem if something happens like the other night.
Me: I’d be quite happy to pay $80 if I was going to be covered, but, looking at their PDSs, I won’t be. Though, I’m still waiting on a return phone call.
Mommy: So, then we fight them…
Me: For a $1,000 claim, with $10,000 worth of legal fees, in an argument that we will be unlikely to win?
Mommy: why do you have to argue with everything I say? Why is everything a battle?
Thank heaven, we had arrived at home, as I stormed out of the car!
It’s Like Taking Off a Band Aid
So when I was in the hospital on Thursday night/Friday morning, they took a tonne of my blood and put me on an IV (in case they had to operate) via a cannula. The cannula hurt but I expected that.
At about 4am, the junior ER doctor decided he didn’t believe that there was no fluid in my lap band so, unlike my doctor who merely puts the needle in the port with a slight prick (the needle, not the doctor!), this doctor finds the largest lap band needle in Victoria (and he sent to another hospital to get it!), gives me a local anaesthetic (which hurts but I expected that!), and then stabs me four times! Guess what? I was right – there was no fluid in my lap band. I had all the fluid removed when I became sick with depression and FM because I decided that I really didn’t give a rat’s arse (Aussie expression) about my weight until the rest of me was better. I had lost 35kgs and wasn’t in a better place (emotionally or physically!)
For those who don’t know, a lap band is like a sausage-shaped water balloon around you stomach. When you fill the balloon, it is harder for food to move into your stomach. When the balloon is empty, it is (supposed to be) easier for the food to enter your stomach. Now, there is a tube from the balloon to a port, which is attached to the inside wall of your tummy (you can feel it but you can’t see it) – this allows the doctors to change the amount of fluid in the balloon.
The point to this whole post is that the doctors and nurses did a lot of things in that hospital that hurt BUT the worst pain, the pain that I didn’t expect, and maybe because it’s the first time since all this crap rained down upon me, was removing the bandaids from my tummy and my hand. OMG!!!
