"and she's sick from chlorine"

 Out on the other side of obnoxious medical procedure, I have food in me and have slept like the people do.  The prep was miserable, no one human should ever have to consume 96oz of gatorade in 7 hours, but I think I actually got a little more unhinged before the prep actually started. In hindsight, I think I was afraid of this time not working either, or of being diagnosed with the crohn's that runs in my family.  But, barring the polyp and the biopsies coming back scary, I don't need another one for five years, which is totally long enough to forget how unfortunate they are.

 

I did have to tell five separate medical professionals I haven't had a period since 2009, which was fun and Melrose-Wakefield now has the distinction of both the smoothest IV placement I've ever had (the previous viist) and the bloodiest failed attempt at an IV placement I've ever had.  But one person complimented me on the decisions I made (god, it's ten years out, why do I still want praise, why do I still grieve?) and another told me I have the blood pressure of a much younger person. To go with the  bone density of a much older person, I guess.

 

Next, differently annoying self-care tasks are sleep study, minor eyelid surgery consult and finding a new person to prescribe me psych meds, which I hate. a lot. but it's time to admit the meds aren't really working anymore and if I want to go forward and deal with new and different hard emotional things, I'm probably going to need a little more psychpharm support.  Either the lever or the steady place to stand, I can probably cobble together one if I have the other.

 

It's been a week of seeing no one but Light and Abundance, and even them sparingly, and I want so much reassurance from so many quarters, and no real words to ask for it or any clarity what form I need it to take.  

 

Spent a lot of time favoriting snarky cross-stitch patterns on etsy gave me the opportunity to realize that what I want is basically to always be stitching profanity while in public.  I was reading some of the quotes aloud to the boys as we were all on the couch, including "Some people don't appreciate the effort I put into not becoming a serial killer" and they assured me that they did and I was charmed and flattered.   

 

I bought myself some more eshakti dresses, realizing that the times I've worn the ones I already own I've felt kind of fetching and feeling kind of fetching makes it much easier to interact with people and to at least convince myself I'm projecting the not-trying-too-hard image I'd really like to be projecting.  So, look out world, there's more black dresses and glitter eyeliner yet to come.

 

And on the things that make me feel better in my skin front, I have finally made contact and booked a three hour appointment with the artist who did my bird-tea-raspberry tattoo.  It's early april and I'm already anxious and already ridiculously excited.   Time to figure out what I want the next set of piece of the story I'm telling myself is, I guess.

 

Next seven days: open houses, cake with Hands and Hips, Spark-time, volunteer meeting, noisy to the vet, me to the psychopharm, poetry brothel, more volunteer meetings, another doctor appt, therapy, movie night, volunteering for the flea.  I think I've missed a couple things in there, but hopefully they'll turn up.