caf

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I was on Cosmopolitan.com for less than 10 minutes, and I learned:

  • I wear the wrong colours
  • I wear the wrong clothes
  • I don’t manage my clothes properly
  • Which makes me look “CAF”
  • That “CAF” means “Cheap as Fuck”
  • I dress wrongly for my shape
  • My shape shouldn’t exist
  • Men love unexpected anal play
  • Gripping the testicles firmly and squeezing is a sexy bedroom move
  • I wear the wrong shoes to dance
  • I shouldn’t dance (see point 7)
  • Body positivity is super important, guys
  • Learning to love yourself is gonna be huge in 2015
  • Three words: surprise. anal. play.

Totes gonna bookmark this site. TOTES.

 

ghost setting

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One of my mother’s elderly paramours – the ones she collects at the supermarket like a reverse black widow – died a while back. He’d been on the decline for a number of years, so it wasn’t terribly unexpected that he would pass on – he was placed in a 24/7 care facility after a taking nasty fall, and he never really recovered.

He and my mother had a weird relationship. As far as I know (and this isn’t just what I tell myself so I can sleep at night), there was nothing sordid about it – she was basically his paid companion. Not like that, but like the other thing. She ran errands for him and looked after him and he gave her money for the stuff she bought and helped her out when she needed it: you know, the things a companion would do. It was all very wifely, which was confusing because my dad was still alive, he and my mother were still married, and I was far, far too old to have some strange man try and play stepdad with me.

The whole thing caused a huge ripple of anger throughout my entire family, and is the reason my mother doesn’t exist as far as the rest of dad’s family is concerned. They’re convinced she cheated on dad, and no matter how many times he told them a) nope, b) I prefer it when she’s out of the house nagging someone else for a chance, c) I’m happy, d) this is none of your damn business anyway, they insisted that something gross had to be happening. I never thought it was anything beyond friendship (and not just because holy shit eww), but man did it make people (who weren’t my dad, mom, or me) mad. 

Mom and her gentleman friend were still close, but she didn’t have to be as wifely in a place where he already had people caring for him. She visited often to smuggle him fried chicken, but eventually found herself a NEW elderly gentleman friend in a grocery store, like the world’s oldest, most confused Pokemon trainer.

Really, I’m sad that my mom lost a friend .. but I’m mostly concerned that she’s going to start feeding his ghost at every meal. 

My father died ten years ago, and my mother has a permanent place set for him at the table. At every meal, she prepares a plate of food and sets it out for him. He gets baked goods or eggs in the mornings, fruit and cookies for snacks, toast and tea and cakes at midday, and some of her dinner. Oh, and dessert. Dad loved dessert. He even gets restaurant leftovers, and if we leave food in the fridge, some of it will end up on a plate under my dad’s picture. Totally normal, right?

I know the practice is rooted in tradition, but it’s still weird – for starters, I don’t think tradition dictates a decade’s worth of three square a day. That’s a lot of uneaten spirit food. And what if the spirits don’t like the food? What if they’re actually super offended by the sheer amount of grapes offered up? It’s not like they can send a memo suggesting strawberries might be a nice change, or would it kill you to spring for a nice steak every now and then. I can appreciate the sentiment, but I worry about afterlife gluten allergies.

I can laugh about my mom’s really weird quirks and not really believe in them myself, but I have to admit that I will be really mad if she starts feeding her friend at every meal, too. Only one dead man feeding allowed. Let HIS family feed his spirit in the afterlife – this place setting is taken. 

Totally normal. 

whims

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Like most people, I have a long list of favourites. I will go to great lengths for my favourites, especially when they are grouped together – anyone can have a chocolate ice cream cone, but if it comes with kittens and orgasms and pleasingly symmetrical button placement? SO MUCH BETTER. As you can probably guess, these serendipical mashups don’t happen often because a) I’m into weird stuff that doesn’t come up often or go together in any sort of commercial way, b) the planets rarely align in my favour, and c) I suppose these happy accidents would be less special if they happened regularly.

Still, I hate to admit defeat and face reality. I was pretty excited about this, too: last year I learned that my favourite artist would be performing in my favourite city in May 2015. I do a lot of things without thinking the logistics through (which is ironic, as figuring out logistics is another favourite of mine), so I immediately bought a ticket to the show in London. I figured I’d have plenty of time to figure out how to make it work – and frankly, I’ve done sillier things than fly halfway around the world to see someone I’ve seen live a dozen times before. Adventure, right? It keeps life interesting!

Unfortunately, the first few months of 2015 have kind of kicked my ass, and with that ass kicking comes the cold, hard realization that I am not able to jet off to London in May. Later this year, sure – but sadly, not in time for the show. I would have dearly loved to be able to claim that I flew to London just to see a concert – in my head, I’m fabulous and wealthy and can do this sort of thing regularly – but that particular level of ridiculous is just going to have to wait for a more opportune time*. And that SUCKS. I hate being patient and sensible.

For once, it’s not the lack of money keeping me from my outlandish whims. I’m surprisingly busy in May, and I’ve run out of time to squeeze a vacation in amongst all the exciting things going on: a weekend in Seattle for a concert (slightly easier to get to than London), the wedding of two of my favourite people, a conference in Portland (I’m kind of giddy about this; I’ve been trying to attend this conference for YEARS and work is sending me, hooray!), and a follow-up ultrasound to see if my hearts are better yet. The echocardiogram is a good thing – long ago, I had planned to go to London in April of this year but pushed it out by several months because I wasn’t sure I’d still be alive, let alone well enough to wander a distant city all by my lonesome. If all goes according to plan, by the time I’m able to plan this trip proper, I’ll be better (or else).

I will be patient and sensible and do the logical thing here, but I’m still gonna be all stompy about it when I feel the need to be melodramatic. I know it’s dumb – it’s not like I don’t get to take a trip at all, it’s just that I can’t go in May – but there’s nothing more appealing than a petulant, middle-aged woman with minimal obligations and no dependants throwing a tantrum because of a few incredibly minor responsibilities.

Seriously, I should be a reality show on a crappy TV channel.

*: Anyone in planning on being in London on May 27th? I have one ticket to see Astronautalis at Club 100 on Oxford Street that is yours free of charge (in exchange for a very small favour). Hit me up on Twitter @kimli, or email me at kimli @ this domain dot com.

balls.

balls.

 

health update: three fifths vs two thirds

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Tomorrow will mark four weeks since the night I dragged my two-thirds dead ass into the ER and learned that I wasn’t crazy; something new and different was really wrong with me. I had my first official checkup with Doctor Awesome yesterday, to see how I was taking to the medication and if I was feeling better.

I’m pleased to report that I am definitely feeling better – I’d be truly terrified if I wasn’t, because holy crap you guys I felt so fucking awful before the hospital. Things were so better almost immediately afterwards that I was partially convinced the whole thing was psychosomatic. The medication made a huge difference, and the bloodwork I had done last week showed that things weren’t getting worse (which is awesome). It also showed that my kidneys are super great (I hadn’t really followed up on how my kidneys recovered from the infection of ’12, so I was glad to hear they were back to superstar status), I don’t have diabeetus, and I am definitely not pregnant. All good things!

A lot of the really horrible symptoms I was having have gone away, too. I no longer sound like I’m dying in my sleep, to Ed’s eternal relief. The utterly insane sweating while sleeping, sitting, standing perfectly still, thinking, etc has dramatically lessened, and I mostly don’t feel drained to the point of tears after standing up or getting dressed. I still get swooningly tired much more easily than I should, but I can move around and do things and go for short walks so that’s nice. My chest no longer rattles! I don’t sound like Darth Vader eating Pop Rocks at night! HOORAY!

Not everything is perfect, but I’m slowly getting there. My heart is still broken (wahhhh) and hovering around 20% functionality, so fluid remains an issue. I may need to increase my medication dosage, which is doable because I’m apparently on a crazy low dose of medicine and obviously responding well. A bump in making me pee more isn’t going to hurt – in fact, it’ll probably help. I’ve had a couple barf-up-fluid incidents over the last week, so my next step is to take a double dose of diuretics and spend my days in the bathroom. Good times.

I’m really glad I’ve got permission to work from home when necessary, because all toilets on the floor I work will be out of commission tomorrow and the next day. I am NOT going to increase my pee pills and then work where there are no bathrooms. That is madness.

Missing toilets aside, work has been great about all of this. They know I can do my job from pretty much anywhere, so I have permission to take care of myself and work where I need to. That’s super helpful as I’m so much more productive at home anyway – and not having to feel my misplaced guilt over not physically being in the nest is a big relief. I stress out over the stupidest things, and that’s one of them.

I’ve got an ultrasound scheduled for the end of May, by which point Doc Awesome says I should be only 1/3 dead instead of 2/3. If not, I get more meds. In the meantime, I’m supposed to go see him as soon as I have any weird or worrying symptoms or if I want to go to a really, really crazy nice office staffed with catalogue-handsome people. This is excellent advice, and for once, I will listen to it.

Oh, and I have a medic alert bracelet now. I am clumsy and I wander off a lot, so I thought it best that I have some sort of notification that I’m broken hearted and allergic to penicillin. I am getting really good at common sense! I should write a book.

.. after I get lunch. I’m still not very good at eating, but I’m trying.

the king of wishful thinking

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Earworm’d!

While we’re all masturbating furiously at the thought of Valve announcing Half Life 3 tomorrow (background: Valve is making a “big announcement” at GDC15 on 3/3 at 3pm – I personally think they’re going to screw us and announce DOTA3 or L4D3, MAYBE Portal 3 if we’ve been very, very good), I started thinking about my video game wishlist: titles I want to see sequels for, or older games made available on new technology. Some people daydream about winning the lottery – I dream about playing The World Ends With You on iOS8. #dreambig

  • HD Port of Jet Set Radio Future: They did this for Jet Set Radio, so now it’s time to do it for the sequel. C’mon, SEGA. I’ve been very patient.
  • Jet Set Radio Future 2: The Futuring
  • Beyond Good and Evil 2: Goddamnit, Ubisoft. Stop churning out Assassin’s Creed sequels and give me more Jade.
  • TWEWY iOS8 Support: don’t be dicks, Squeenix.
  • Portal 3 because Portal is awesome and more Portal would be More Awesome. JK Simmons isn’t doing anything these days, right? We need more wisdom from Cave Johnson.
  • The return of Cate Archer. This one is depressing, because No One Lives Forever is in limbo and looking very much like it won’t be made available, ever. There are three games in the series, and while I can’t speak for Contract J.A.C.K., NOLF/NOLF2 were so much fun to play (CJ came out in 2003 when my entire life was casting and sleeping and not much else). I and so many others would love to see them made available to play again, but.
  • The return of browser-based Quake Live. When it was released on Steam, it went Windows only, and that sucks – it was fun and easy to fire up a game at work, but now it takes some serious planning because who the hell has Windows machines? My work environments have been Mac-only for the last 4 years. I don’t think I could find a Windows machine in this office if I tried.
  • A new game from Tiger Style, makers of Spider: The Secret of Bryce Manor and Waking Mars. They’re currently working on Spider: Rite of the Shrouded Moon, but I want it nooooow. I need a good game to sink my teeth into.

There are probably more, but I have work to do. What about you? What games would you love to see/see again?

get behind me, neuroses

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There are some old neuroses of mine that are coming up on 20 years old, and I would like them to move the fuck on already.

That’s all you get. Trust me when I say you don’t want further detail in this instance.

Up next: goddamn reality, wrecking all my fun

positive bleeding

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I continue to improve, thanks to the miracle of modern medicine. My biggest problem right now is feeling better than I actually am – I almost feel back to my usual self, but I’m still nowhere near it. Twice now I’ve gone out to do things because I feel okay, only to have to cut the day short because I’ve overdone it and feel like soggy death. It’s an adjustment.

My blood does appear to be flowing again, which is both good and bad. The good: my snoring improved remarkably from the first night I was medicated. That isn’t to say that I got better at snoring, rather; the noises that so alarmed Ed had quieted considerably: I was no longer gasping myself awake or making horrible choking noises in my sleep. All the fluid that threatened to drown me every night is now flushed out in other ways, to the point where I have postponed my sleep study indefinitely.

It’s not all pee and solid sleep, though: now that my heart is sucking less, my skin is being a shitheel again. For the last 3 months or so, the only thing I was remotely happy about was that my breakouts seemed to be under control. Sure, I looked like shit and couldn’t breathe or sleep or eat, but my skin was clear, damnit! Now .. not so much. All the stress zits that had been repressed by my body’s inability to do fuck all are coming back to say howdy and it fucking sucks. I may never leave the house again – not because I don’t have the energy, but because I look awful. Why go outside? I have cats and Diet Coke and internet.

And a new mattress, too. Ed decided we needed to upgrade, so this week we got a fancy new memory foam thing. I love it because we were able to get rid of our huge giant mattress and box spring so our bed is now a full foot closer to the ground (much better for falling), and also it is all the comfortable ever. If this is how rich people live, I’m all for it.

I do miss adventures, though.

let’s do sports

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WHY AREN’T I BETTER YET? IT’S BEEN THREE WHOLE DAYS!

I am a lousy patient. Resting is boring. I feel guilty (and annoyed) that I’m not better yet, but I really have no other “totes sick” experience to measure a good healing by. I haven’t spent any time in the hospital beyond day surgery since I was 7, when I had my tonsils out (and my tail removed 2 years before that). I’m struggling to take this as seriously as I should, but every time I try to do .. well, anything at all, I’m stopped in my tracks by a deep and unsettling exhaustion and clammy moistness, quickly followed by the guilts. I worked from home today, but wasn’t nearly as productive as I thought I’d be due to the aforementioned clams – even thinking makes me tired and nauseous and damp. I am (thankfully) not used to being Very Sick, and I don’t know what to do about it all.

I haven’t told my mother, either. I want to tell her, but I don’t want her to worry and/or nag me for the next 20 years. It’s times like this that I really miss having a normal relationship with my mother – I know it’s better that I just don’t get into this with her, but I can’t help but want someone to fuss over me and make me stay in bed and bring me presents. That’s what happens when you’re sick, right? It did when I was 7, so I assume it’s the same when you’re an adult.

Here’s hoping I have more success sitting upright tomorrow!

achievement unlocked: going home

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I was literally opening my laptop to write up a whiny, self-pitying post full of doom and gloom because a) I’m still in the hospital, b) I hadn’t seen a doctor yet, c) the casual racism of my roommate was getting really old really fast, and d) Ed hadn’t come by to see me yet, BUT – I saw a doctor! I got an update!

We talked a lot, but two main things came out of this:

I’m gonna be okay!

and

None of this was my fault!!!!!

I was pretty much convinced that everything in my life – work, body, food intake or lack thereof, Diet Coke consumption, internet shopping habits, intravenous drug use, casual sex, puppeteering US politics, littering, using Easter Seal stamps but not donating, buying that cup of coffee a day instead of sponsoring little Ubuntu, not calling my mother regularly – had caused all the health problems I’ve basically since June. Doctor Awesome leapt to reassure me that this isn’t the case at all – basically, it was just bad luck. The rattling in June was environmental, but the triple threat combo of the flu, cold, and strep throat I had in November completely obliterated my immune system – something nasty got in and played games with my heart (against the clear advice of the Backstreet Boys). According to Doc Awesome, the heart should pump 60% of the blood it takes in back out again. Mine was operating at 20%, which made all the fluid go other places and be a jerk.

I’m getting a bunch of prescriptions for diuretics (a terrible word that makes me uncomfortable – diuretics is my moist) and beta blockers (take that, beta), and a new ultrasound in three months. Fixing my stupid heart will take some time, but at least we’re on the right path. I’m thrilled about that (I’m currently crying, but it’s 25% happy 75% butthurt), and glad that I should be feeling better (and able to get dressed in the morning without wanting to die) by the time spring hits. ADVENTURE! I CAN HAVE YOU AGAIN!

Thank you so much to everyone who commented, tweeted, facebooked, called, and more – you guys are awesome. And a super thanks to all my friends who kept me entertained while sitting here feeling sorry for myself. And I promise I will do everything in my power to stay out of the hospital from now on. :D

I am going to miss this awesome technology, though.

$11/day for “premium channels”!

unbreak my heart

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Hi!

It’s been an interesting 24 hours!

Last night around 9:30, I started to wheeze. I decided that the time was as good as it was ever going to get, so I asked Ed to take me to the ER in North Vancouver (closest one to our place). We got there around 10pm, and settled in for a long, long night of waiting.

Blood was drawn and x-rays were taken and the doctor determined that they couldn’t determine anything other than the fact that what I have is definitely not asthma. My blood was showing something, but more testing was needed to figure out what. They discharged us at 3am, and told me to be back at 7am for a CT scan. Okay then!

The ER visit itself wasn’t going all that well, because before we left the house I threw up .. which made all the rattling stop. As expected, when the doctor listened to my lungs, there was nothing amiss. Luckily (I guess) I had another barf attack at 2am, and violently and loudly threw up in the triage bathroom. This was enough to make the doctors say “wtf is that”, and soon after I was told I needed to come back in 4 hours. As shitty as that was, I was actually thrilled .. they were listening to me. They knew something was wrong. They weren’t going to send me home to keep an eye on things for myself. Praise Jeebus!

So, home. I managed to get onto the couch around 4am, and slept fitfully/sweatily for an hour before I had to get up and head back to the hospital. I took a cab so Ed could get more sleep, and checked myself in for some CT scans and bonus vein trauma. My veins have always been dicks when it comes to getting blood drawn or IVs inserted or my next fix, but today they were brutal. It took 7? needles, an IV technician, and finally the old standby – a baby needle in the back of the hand – to get anything in or out of me. I’m covered in bruises and sticky residue from my elbows to knuckles.

The CT scan was interesting, what with the injection that makes you feel like you’re peeing yourself, but when it was done they propped me up in a chair to await my fate. It was handed down soon afterward. The good news: there were no blood clots in my lungs. Hooray!

The bad news: heart failure.

The doctor was quick to assure me that “heart failure” is really a catch-all term for anything wrong with the heart that isn’t out-and-out cardiac arrest. Basically, all my symptoms were being caused by my heart not operating at 100%, which caused fluid to back up, which made my lungs work harder, which made it hard to catch my breath, and so on. I was going to be sent for an echolocation and an ultrasound, and we would see what was happening. Also, I’m pretty young and all, so do I want them to do everything possible to save me if it gets to that? Yes, that would be lovely, thank you. I understand it’s a routine question, but HOLY JESUS WHY.

I had the tests done, I ate my hospital lunch, and .. I don’t have any other news. I’m in the hospital overnight, as I have yet to talk to the heart doctor to find out what the bat test and ultrasound showed. I’m clammy and bored and don’t want to be here .. but at the same time, I DO want to be here. I’m almost giddy with relief that the doctors and nurses listened to me and realized something was wrong and ordered the tests that could solve this once and for all. The nurses here have been amazingly nice, I’m fully connected to the outside world thanks to Ed bringing my laptop and Renee working her wifi magic, and I’ve already had awesome visitors bearing flowers and sparkly pandas riding unicorns. Yes, I’m uncomfortable and filthy and they keep pumping my IV full of stuff that makes me pee the universe and wish I was at home, but I’m being taken care of and that’s all that really matters right now.

I haven’t spent the night in the hospital since I was 5 and had my tail removed. This is really weird.

More details when I get them, but for now, I’m #stillalive.