“Can’t believe how strange it is to be anything at all.” – Neutral Milk Hotel
Still hibernating, as is my custom these days. I started taking the anxiety meds, which make me dizzy and drowsy. I’m not as panicky, though I still have difficulty breathing.
I have an ultrasound pending (just have to find time to schedule it) and a followup appointment with the rheumatologist in a few weeks. The blood tests she did didn’t really scream anything definite at her, but there’s definitely something autoimmune-related going on.
Also went to a naturopath this morning at my dad’s recommendation, who informed me that I have gluten, dairy, and sugar sensitivities which all contribute to autoimmune/inflammation. So I need to change my diet drastically, keep a food journal, and come back and see him in two weeks.
Ugh. Like, seriously, body? You couldn’t have let me fucking keep cheese?
I love pizza. I think it should be its own fucking food group. That’s how much I love it.
To be fair, though, I have been changing my diet little by little anyway. I haven’t been eating as much sugar. My coffee is decaf and sugar-free (but I think that’s probably just marketing’s way of not telling you it’s chemical laden. But chemicals. Mmm. So tasty). I drink more water now than I ever used to.
But now I have to be super good about cooking, and I have to read labels, too?! This is just… I need to go to McDonalds while I process this.
In other news, my mom got transferred from one living facility to another. This is good because she actually used to live there a couple years ago, and it’s closer to me. Most of the staff is there, and remembers her, which is nice. I had to go in yesterday and sign off on her medication list, and they seemed disorganized as fuck which was trying my patience but a little amusing.
It took about 20 minutes to get a nurse to bring the papers to me, during which time the staff kept looking at me and whispering as if I was an alien because I was supposed to meet with Helen, the head of nursing, BUT HELEN LEAVES AT 5, and I WAS THERE AT 6.
I asked if there was anyone else who could bring me the papers to sign. Much confusion and pandemonium ensued.
I then explained to them that I wanted to take my mom out to dinner, and they again looked at me like I had twelve heads. They said, “Well, she’s on this list. She can’t leave for 72 hours.”
I said, “I understand that, but I’m her guardian. I spoke to her social worker today, and as long as she is with me, she’s okay to leave. We won’t be more than an hour.”
One particularly bright staff member asked me if my mom had come down yet (like, honestly, flighty as fuck. Wasn’t sure if she was a former patient who maybe got staff privileges for good behavior). I said, “Yes. She’s standing right in front of you.”
So they had to try the social worker on her cell. And when that didn’t work, they had to call the department head on his cell.
Thank God for cell phones, I guess.
We ended up going out to dinner, where she met the boyfriend. She, however, had already eaten (which I guess was good, because it took 30 minutes to get everything settled) and so she just had a milkshake and a diet coke (I am totes her daughter), and I had a grilled cheese because this place makes the best grilled cheeses in the world (and after that experience, I needed some fucking cheese).
Boyfriend and mother got along splendidly. He showed her a picture of the wedding we recently went to, and she told me I looked pregnant. She said, “You never really had a problem with your weight until now. What’s with that?” I think my mother has selective memory.
When he got up to use the bathroom, she gushed. “Oh, Amanda. He’s gorgeous. How did you do that? You’re beautiful. That’s how. You two will have gorgeous babies.”
Yes, mom 1, mom 2, everybody’s wanting me to have the babies. I fear that this is so much out in the universe that I will be pregnant just by typing this.
So much (too much?) to think about.
Have a good day, friends. Be kind to yourselves.