I once had a boss who was the epitome of a douchebag.
Seriously.
The day he decided to make my life a living hell was the day that the head surgeon/chair of the department joked to him while I was taking pictures at a 'chi-chi" event.
"Mark, you better be careful or this young lady is going to take your job soon!"
ha ha ha ha
laughs all around.
But it was true. Or could have been.
I worked the room like a smooth ass teflon Don politician. Everybody liked my unobtrusive yet charmingly quirky demeanor. Everybody wanted me to take their picture. The night was a huge success. The head surgeon/chair came up to me near the end of the event: "it is a pleasure to have you working with us."
well, that didn't last long...
Shitforbrains flipped and began to panic because the big cheese was on my side. Loved me and said hi every time he came into our office. Turdo didn't even get so much as a mumble.
And he hated me for it.
Or shall i say abhorred me for it.
He sabotaged me in every way he could. Tried to break me every way he could.
I just had an operation that left me weak and ill, and he used that to his advantage.
I broke and he fired me. Just one day shy of being unionized.
I should have known that it was coming down the pipeline.
"It's only gonna get worse..." was his sick and fucked up mantra.
No wonder he was a miserable fat sloth moron.
But I digress from venting...
It's only gonna get worse ...
I find myself saying this right now as i try to march stoically through these horrendous side effects of my GERD medication.
I tried to explain to my gastro doc that I felt like i had been run over by a buss. That i was putting on weight like a rowboat in a monsoon. That i was becoming moody and manic.
"well, i've never heard of those side effects before"
(ergo - they don't exist)
But now thanks to the internet, more and more people are chiming in about the wonderful world of heavy duty meds and the delightful cornucopia of pleasantries that twist your insides and outsides into a wet noodle.
(taken from Wikepedia: Thomas A. Scully, head of the Federal Centers for Medicare and Medicaid services also criticized AstraZeneca for their aggressive marketing of Nexium. At a conference of the American Medical Association he went so far as to suggest that Astra was using the new drug to overcharge consumers and insurance companies. "You should be embarrassed if you prescribe Nexium," he claimed, "because you're screwing your patients and you're screwing the taxpayers.")
GERD can be a serious thing. I was rumored to have Barrette's esophagus, which is one step away from esophageal cancer, but a biopsy showed that the tissue was not diseased, but was told that I would have to go in every 6-8 months for a gastroscopy to make sure. Getting a tube/camera shoved down your throat is not a fun experience. I would rather have 10 colonoscopies to one gastroscopy. Yes, that many. Being awake for both, the sensation of having your throat and thorax scraped with a toilet bowl brush over and over again is not my idea of a good time.
It's ironic - i never was a smoker, or a drinker, yet I have what most smokers and drinkers suffer from. Oh if i were only able to say that i had and once enjoyed those vices, perhaps the intestinal prodding would seem more tolerable. Perhaps it's all made worse by the fact that I have a Hiatus hernia...
It's only gonna get worse ...
These pills - nasty pills. Have caused my fybromalgia to flare up in a serious way. I have to actually walk with a cane. Standing causes me to help in pain with each step, sitting is tantamount to sucking my skin and muscles into the floor with an industrial vacuum cleaner. And sleep? Well, I'll have none of that. The brain is mostly made of water, but is also a muscle, and with fybromyalgia, all muscles hurt, a lot. Including my brain.
It also triggers my bipolar.
Not a pretty sight considering I am already fighting that on a regular basis.
No more sunny days, no more walking with flip flops, letting the warm weather wrap me in its arms like a bright candy colored flannel blanket.
Fall - cold, damp, grey.
All my enemies for so many reasons.
I had an alternative, but that is even more scary than what i'm on now.
I had taken it once before, and had to get off after the third dose. My doctors thought i was crazy. Well, this crazy lady now has back up.
Astra zeneca has now packaged a long list of troubling side effects, preceded by the warning: Consult your doctor if these conditions occur or become worse.
Well, all the ones I had once tried to explain were all there in mauve and white.
Pretty packaging, not so pretty side effects.
It's only gonna get worse ...
I can hear people saying: "at least you don't have to go through chemo!"
Well, if this condition worsens, i may just have to...
But yes, it is gonna get worse before it gets better, and i have to take this bitter pill, my medicine, but why does something that is supposed to heal you make you more sick than what you started with?
Isn't that backwards?
Oh modern medicine, why must you be such a motherfucker?
Showing posts with label angry people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label angry people. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Sunday, September 05, 2010
today's dream log
dream
water
i was swimming. Learning to improve my strokes.
Hotel swimming pool. More rectangular than long. At dusk.
The glow of the lights in the water - turquoise.
Glass walls - rooftop terrace now closed. City skyline becomes alive.
Few people, mostly milling about. Languid in lounge chairs.
An instructor, svelt man, middle aged, comes into the pool to show me how to improve my strokes. Turns on the wave machine. I begin to swim. Each movement, poetic, graceful. Underwater ballet. He stops me, shows me, i begin again.
The movement propelling me forward is counteracted by the waves, bubbles, noise.
I pick up speed, and the waves get stronger, the bubbles bigger and the noise - louder.
Now it all seems so effortless. My body glides, hands slice the water like cleavers. Blade through flesh. Silent. No spash. No sound.
Flash. it's morning and we are now entering the sauna. Tilled cubicle. Standing room only. Five of us walk in. It's dark except for the ambient light. Steam streams through the walls. Eucalyptus fills our nostrils. Mentholated brush into the sinuses. General malaise. I say: "it's good for you. Now we sit and sweat."
After a few seconds, people tire and become anxious.
"Now we cold dip." pointing to the garden hose attached to the wall. I pick it up and lift it to my head.
"Are you crazy?"
"that's too cold!!"
"It closes your pores, gets your heart rate going. It's good for you."
But nobody listens. They slide out of the stall, aimless and sweaty. I stay behind, enjoying the whole aquatic experience.
House
E and I had bought a house. Condo actually. Model home. Fully equipped, furnished. Showroom ready to go. It was dark, pale moss green everywhere. Into the post-modern domestic forest. Everything was set. Tv was on. Welcoming din.
I began to get anxious. Nervous. Something was wrong. Trapped, suffocated I began to rant. Question. Weariness covered me like a veil.
"There are no windows!! How could you have said yes to a place that had no windows!!"
"it's not that big of a deal."
"what the hell do you mean!? Of course it is! I can't breathe! I can't see out! There is no natural sunlight!"
"why do you need light?"
Picking up a paint chip, blush pink, I waved it into his face.
"why can't we paint this place another color!? Why all this green? "
"you want to paint it? no problem. I can do that. Just give me the paint."
"but we can't live here while we paint!"
"why not?"
"THERE ARE NO WINDOWS TO OPEN!"
"so, what's your point?"
desperate, dejected and furious, i ran out of the house, into the street. Into the light, into the fresh air.
House - part 2
Now we are in an actual house. I'm on the other side of the front door, watching myself walk in with the agent. Cathedral ceilings, ruched curtains protecting the interior from sun. Two level, winding staircase, kitchen with marble island, open concept. Stainless steel appliances. Clean. Hyper clean.
This is my house, yet it is not my house.
I own it but don't live in it.
I make my way to the kitchen, and begin to cook. Taking out the spices, putting them in alphabetical order. E is there, but distant. Observing but not attentive.
I am despondent, why does he not help me?
The doorbell rings. We were not expecting company?
Open the door and a flood of people fill our hallway, making their way into the kitchen. The nexus of this industrial universe. So many people.
"why don't you help me?!!"
E walks away. JM walks behind him, turning to me: "he's not interesting in helping anymore. You have asked him for enough help. He needs to rest. He is fed up. Go on doing what you have to do. He's done with this. This marriage. This everything."
I am crushed. Mentally raped. Physically ruined.
More people, more noise, more scrutiny. My body goes numb. It's a miracle I'm standing.
I too become part of the model home. A fixture. Fleshy furniture. Bees buzzing around me, examining the countertops, the microwave, the fridge. Doors open, plates shifting, floor squeaking under the weight of these bodies make the floor squeak.
Everything is filthy, at least to my standards. I scurry behind, a gypsy child, picking up crumbs, wiping away residue, making everything sparkling clean.
I open the back door and they all fill into the outside yard. Good riddance. Goodbye. I close the door. The remaining people trickle away from the center of the industrial homemaker's universe.
There is a group of Indian women, diligently examining the spice rack.
"it's important to have all the spices in order to keep your kitchen harmonious".
Brown nimble fingers delicately pull apart the angel hairs of red saffron and place them onto the marble countertop.
"this should do it. This should fix everything now..."
water
i was swimming. Learning to improve my strokes.
Hotel swimming pool. More rectangular than long. At dusk.
The glow of the lights in the water - turquoise.
Glass walls - rooftop terrace now closed. City skyline becomes alive.
Few people, mostly milling about. Languid in lounge chairs.
An instructor, svelt man, middle aged, comes into the pool to show me how to improve my strokes. Turns on the wave machine. I begin to swim. Each movement, poetic, graceful. Underwater ballet. He stops me, shows me, i begin again.
The movement propelling me forward is counteracted by the waves, bubbles, noise.
I pick up speed, and the waves get stronger, the bubbles bigger and the noise - louder.
Now it all seems so effortless. My body glides, hands slice the water like cleavers. Blade through flesh. Silent. No spash. No sound.
Flash. it's morning and we are now entering the sauna. Tilled cubicle. Standing room only. Five of us walk in. It's dark except for the ambient light. Steam streams through the walls. Eucalyptus fills our nostrils. Mentholated brush into the sinuses. General malaise. I say: "it's good for you. Now we sit and sweat."
After a few seconds, people tire and become anxious.
"Now we cold dip." pointing to the garden hose attached to the wall. I pick it up and lift it to my head.
"Are you crazy?"
"that's too cold!!"
"It closes your pores, gets your heart rate going. It's good for you."
But nobody listens. They slide out of the stall, aimless and sweaty. I stay behind, enjoying the whole aquatic experience.
House
E and I had bought a house. Condo actually. Model home. Fully equipped, furnished. Showroom ready to go. It was dark, pale moss green everywhere. Into the post-modern domestic forest. Everything was set. Tv was on. Welcoming din.
I began to get anxious. Nervous. Something was wrong. Trapped, suffocated I began to rant. Question. Weariness covered me like a veil.
"There are no windows!! How could you have said yes to a place that had no windows!!"
"it's not that big of a deal."
"what the hell do you mean!? Of course it is! I can't breathe! I can't see out! There is no natural sunlight!"
"why do you need light?"
Picking up a paint chip, blush pink, I waved it into his face.
"why can't we paint this place another color!? Why all this green? "
"you want to paint it? no problem. I can do that. Just give me the paint."
"but we can't live here while we paint!"
"why not?"
"THERE ARE NO WINDOWS TO OPEN!"
"so, what's your point?"
desperate, dejected and furious, i ran out of the house, into the street. Into the light, into the fresh air.
House - part 2
Now we are in an actual house. I'm on the other side of the front door, watching myself walk in with the agent. Cathedral ceilings, ruched curtains protecting the interior from sun. Two level, winding staircase, kitchen with marble island, open concept. Stainless steel appliances. Clean. Hyper clean.
This is my house, yet it is not my house.
I own it but don't live in it.
I make my way to the kitchen, and begin to cook. Taking out the spices, putting them in alphabetical order. E is there, but distant. Observing but not attentive.
I am despondent, why does he not help me?
The doorbell rings. We were not expecting company?
Open the door and a flood of people fill our hallway, making their way into the kitchen. The nexus of this industrial universe. So many people.
"why don't you help me?!!"
E walks away. JM walks behind him, turning to me: "he's not interesting in helping anymore. You have asked him for enough help. He needs to rest. He is fed up. Go on doing what you have to do. He's done with this. This marriage. This everything."
I am crushed. Mentally raped. Physically ruined.
More people, more noise, more scrutiny. My body goes numb. It's a miracle I'm standing.
I too become part of the model home. A fixture. Fleshy furniture. Bees buzzing around me, examining the countertops, the microwave, the fridge. Doors open, plates shifting, floor squeaking under the weight of these bodies make the floor squeak.
Everything is filthy, at least to my standards. I scurry behind, a gypsy child, picking up crumbs, wiping away residue, making everything sparkling clean.
I open the back door and they all fill into the outside yard. Good riddance. Goodbye. I close the door. The remaining people trickle away from the center of the industrial homemaker's universe.
There is a group of Indian women, diligently examining the spice rack.
"it's important to have all the spices in order to keep your kitchen harmonious".
Brown nimble fingers delicately pull apart the angel hairs of red saffron and place them onto the marble countertop.
"this should do it. This should fix everything now..."
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Last night was grand.
Simply sublime.
An urban cowboy friend of a friend hosted a house party.
Out in the stix, but it was well worth the hike.
and turns out, that being there, making the effort, spoke volumes in terms of letting it be known that we did take the time out of our day to come and be a part of the celebration.
Some people who said they would show up apparently had their reasons.
Apparently.
But that night was filled with new connections and forging of new creative endeavors.
Sis and Bobby were there - always soulful friendship connections.
And the new individuals that we met - priceless.
I told E on the way home:
meeting people like this, engaging in intelligent conversation, honest and heartfelt laughter is what makes the world go around, at least my world. It's my lifeline - people like this - real people. I have less and less time for the riff raff, people who are more interested in looking into their own reflection, or look for their own reflection in others. They are all fucken shallow and waste my time. Time to purge and cleanse. After this weekend, I have seen enough of people who care only about themselves. Enough is enough. I've stopped giving away my time. You need it - you earn it. You can have all your fluffy vapid self centered friends. Just don't bring them to our house. I don't want that energy to taint ours.
FB - status.
People are too busy collecting fucken farm animals to take a nano-second to even give "like/thumbs up" notification. Whatever.
So noted.
In my books.
But as sis and I convened - there is a lot happening and a lot going to happen in the next little while. How interesting that this was my horoscope from Daily Om...
August 22, 2010
Connected by Support
Aries Daily Horoscope
Simply sublime.
An urban cowboy friend of a friend hosted a house party.
Out in the stix, but it was well worth the hike.
and turns out, that being there, making the effort, spoke volumes in terms of letting it be known that we did take the time out of our day to come and be a part of the celebration.
Some people who said they would show up apparently had their reasons.
Apparently.
But that night was filled with new connections and forging of new creative endeavors.
Sis and Bobby were there - always soulful friendship connections.
And the new individuals that we met - priceless.
I told E on the way home:
meeting people like this, engaging in intelligent conversation, honest and heartfelt laughter is what makes the world go around, at least my world. It's my lifeline - people like this - real people. I have less and less time for the riff raff, people who are more interested in looking into their own reflection, or look for their own reflection in others. They are all fucken shallow and waste my time. Time to purge and cleanse. After this weekend, I have seen enough of people who care only about themselves. Enough is enough. I've stopped giving away my time. You need it - you earn it. You can have all your fluffy vapid self centered friends. Just don't bring them to our house. I don't want that energy to taint ours.
FB - status.
People are too busy collecting fucken farm animals to take a nano-second to even give "like/thumbs up" notification. Whatever.
So noted.
In my books.
But as sis and I convened - there is a lot happening and a lot going to happen in the next little while. How interesting that this was my horoscope from Daily Om...
August 22, 2010
Connected by Support
Aries Daily Horoscope
The encouragement you receive from friends about your projects could make you feel surrounded by an unlimited amount of support today. Just knowing that others care about you and your work might help you see that the things you do have value and meaning not only for yourself, but also for others. Even though this validation from other people might be meaningful for you, perhaps today you can think about how much worth your work has for your soul. Going back to a completed project, taking a deep breath, and looking upon your work with new eyes could make it easier for you to recognize just how much your projects impact you. Finding support in yourself, you may find, is just as important as seeking it from other people.
When we are able to feel pleased about our work, the support we receive from others is wonderful and precious but is not the only thing that sustains our efforts. So often we can get lost in wanting others to approve of what we do and praise us for a job well done. When we learn to do that for ourselves, however, any encouragement that others give us is something that we can cherish. Through our efforts we are able to strengthen our level of connection, trust, and respect for each other. By seeing the support you get as something that binds you to others, you will be able to appreciate what you receive through an entirely new perspective today.
When we are able to feel pleased about our work, the support we receive from others is wonderful and precious but is not the only thing that sustains our efforts. So often we can get lost in wanting others to approve of what we do and praise us for a job well done. When we learn to do that for ourselves, however, any encouragement that others give us is something that we can cherish. Through our efforts we are able to strengthen our level of connection, trust, and respect for each other. By seeing the support you get as something that binds you to others, you will be able to appreciate what you receive through an entirely new perspective today.
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