Saturday, January 26, 2008

The Biology Post: plus a 'how to' guide on replicating how I feel.

I don’t want this blog turning into the health watch equivalent of the Weather Channel: “A storm front is moving into Beth’s heart and we are going to upgrade to condition Orange and warn our viewers of the chance of projectile vomiting....”

The problem is that I have been watching my vitals, sleeping or on oxygen since my last post so…what to talk about? I think right now my feeling is the one I had after I drove a four wheeler off a cliff road and into a tree when several hundred miles into the B.C. backwoods: ‘It doesn’t look like I’m going to die….but this is probably going to really hurt for while.’

So let me talk about what a chronic or autonomic failure is like for me. I would have thought that it would be intensely boring; I mean, I hardly move at all, I am not likely to in the near future. I don’t even have a view of trees or birds or anything. Boring right?

Well, I recommend you get one of those grey coffin-like metal roof rack holders for a bunch of snowboards, then take it in your car and go to your ski slope. Take the metal rack holder up on the ski lift, all the way up to the top where the black diamond ski slopes are. Now have a buddy lock you into the metal holder. You are just lying there, staring at the grey metal a few inches away from your nose; can’t see much, can’t move much. Now have your buddy shove you off the top. See, you still can’t do much, or see much, or really know what exactly is going on, but you aren’t bored anymore. No, those feelings you are getting in your body from the slope and the noises and the hints of what might be going on have your complete attention. That’s pretty much is happening to me, including when the rack holder slams into a tree and you feel like you might not breath again and you don’t know why you feel so crap but the metal case is already whizzing off another direction. You are inside and hearing and feeling more things so, in pain, but no, not bored, and still no exact idea of when or where this will end.

As for Fran, Linda got yelled at yesterday because now a stairwell is closed for construction and she used it. They only need to limit one more access and I can call the fire department. Just to let you know, you CAN hear a nail gun two floors down enough to wake you up. I am not sure when that information might come in handy, probably some future war when everyone has run out of bullets, but now you have it. As for those who like interpreting dreams, how about one where my mother is chasing me up the stairs, and she is buck naked while my father is standing at the bottom of the stairs saying, “Do we really have time for this now?” Needless to say, I interpreted this as a nightmare and woke up with a strong shudder. If I ever needed a proof I have lived a depraved life it is that my imagination can construct in explicit detail what my naked mother looks like (meaning, yeah, saw her vagina as she chased me up the stairs). Is there a name like those Eureka or Oedipal complexes where instead of wanting to kill your mother and have sex with your father, you have a dream where your mother and father are having sex and want to kill yourself?

All I can say is “Thank God” that the fashion of taking birth movies wasn’t in when I was born. It was for a period when I was in California. Because quite honestly, I can’t think of a more romantic way to introduce your significant other to the family than to get an extended film of your mother’s vagina with her screaming as you crown. Sounds like a blast! Sorry if some people have a misty moment about that but I’ve had dumps where I look down and go, “Geez, how did that get out!” So, no, not wanting a movie of it.

I have to admit to being handed a two week old baby and after all the admiration and the ‘yes aren’t the fingers so tiny’ I have carefully noted the size of the GIANT headed baby, kept a sort of two handed measurement. Then later, in the privacy of my own room, held that two handed diameter up to my vagina. Heck, I’ve even held up the measurement to Linda’s vagina once during sex (don’t tell her), and both times a little shudder and a idea of why your body releases all these material feelings cause……BIG HEAD! Don’t get me wrong, the miracle of birth, the miracle of growing inside and feeling it as it moves and kicks but……..BIG HEAD!

I guess I am on a biological kick today, sorry if you got the gags. I would like to take this time to mention that after years of disappointment, and while I am still losing weight, I think I gained a half breast size. And no, not down, like out – I am perky and proud. With my luck I should get a breast exam because it is probably a tumor but no, I’m enjoying the moments AND going out sometimes without any bra at all, cause I can now; nope, don’t need that push-up or padding. Okay, admittedly, usually no bra because I am wearing a corset but hey, actually almost proud I can call it “boobage” instead of, “a left over from the mumps.” Well, I actually used to lean over and call them “torpedo heads” since they had a strange triangular look. In a recent show on the art of Venice they talked about an artist of sculptures who made these “unearthly in perfection” statues (All nudes of course) and suddenly, there is a woman with my boobs, torpedo shape and all. “Look, look” I near shouted pointing to the screen, “I’m not ‘itty bitty’, I’m “unearthly perfection!” And now my “unearthly perfection” just got bigger.

Just in case you are wondering, yes I am on oxygen but no, not on pain pills, not doped up, just had enough moaning, screaming, drooling, turning funny colours that I guess I lost most of my inhibitions. Hmmm, is this a good time to mention that I am WAY too tired for most maintenance (besides brush teeth, hair, etc). This means I am looking for a tame foot fetishist out there who wants to paint my nails. I can’t really be bothered to dominate but I have some old shoes you can lick if you really want (I’m not using them).

Actually, now that I look over this blog, I am really wondering if I AM getting enough oxygen to my brain. Oh well, at least I am not worrying about my heart and the pain in my chest for now, I am more worried about certain relatives and perhaps future employers reading this. That would work great at the “Writer’s Grant” when I point out how respected my blog is and picked up by different agencies and they google it and turn back and say, “You imagine your mother’s vagina and you are willing to let people lick your old shoes?” Actually now that I think about it, here in BC, that would probably be a lock in actually GETTING a grant. They would probably want me to do a stage production too.

I’m going to stop now. Linda will thank me for that. Actually thinking about Linda and something she REALLY would kill me if I told, back when we first moved in together.....(Ow! Linda, it really hurts when you bend my fingers backwards like that!)

14 comments:

Gaina said...

"Actually, now that I look over this blog, I am really wondering if I AM getting enough oxygen to my brain."

Me too sweetie, me too. ;-)

I'm with you on the baby heads. It's like trying to shove an elephant through a keyhole, and I'm having none of it! *lol*

Lene Andersen said...

No enough oxygen makes you even funnier than usual. The box analogy made me understand a bit better (and laugh my arse off - "not bored"! - pretty sure it was funnier to me than it was to you at the time, though). BIG HEAD! Oh yes. Shudder.

Glad you're well enough to post, congrats on the cleavage and I hope they close one more access route so the Fire Department will descend like a flock of furies on Fran the Bigot.

Niall said...

Being male, I was on the other end of the baby heads, and they sure LOOKED huge coming out. Nature has a way of making it work, I assume, since enough people have put up with it that we're all here and able to comment on the little bu - er, darlings.

I'm very glad you're still with us, Elizabeth. I found this site about a month ago, and love your honesty and sense of humour. It has opened my eyes a litle too, to see how you get through your day, and how you deal with the bureaucracies of BC.

Lisa Corriveau said...

you know, there are a lot more of us torpedo-boobed chicks out there than pop culture, porn or even high art would have you believe. I thought I was a freak for the longest time until I had a conversation about boob & nipple shape with a piercer...

Also: what an amazing analogy with the ski box thingie. I'm horrified that you experienced that, but the analogy really helps me understand it better... Glad you're still posting!

:)

Raccoon said...

You aren't on pain meds as you're writing this?

Congratulations, another day down. And you've still got your sense of humor. Now, you've got to get better: Psycho and the rest of them are waiting for you!

cheryl g. said...

Back in my EMT days I delivered a baby - maybe that's what finally killed off what little child bearing desire I might have had. It was like watching a wet St. Bernard try to squeeze in through the cat door...

A Bear in the Woods said...

Growing half a breast size isn't news.
Now if you grew a new breast, that would be news.

I have never understood why some women get all misty eyed over the topic of childbirth. Personally, I think test tube birthing is the way to go.

Lisa Harney said...

I am glad to see you're improving, and I laughed at your comment about not wanting future employers and relatives to read this, largely because I came into the blogosphere with a pseudonym for that exact reason.

I can sympathize with your metal box description - that's kind of what my worst panic attacks have been like - the main difference being that I knew on some intellectual level that nothing was going wrong with my body, but my body wanted nothing to do with such logical nonsense, and it's really really hard to just sit through it when your body is screaming "ZOMG I'M GOING TO DROP DEAD ANY MINUTE."

So anyway, yeah, I sympathize. I do realize I don't know exactly what it's like.

You and Linda have all my best wishes and hugs, still. I hope you're feeling better, or at least clearly on the road to feeling better by the time you read this.

Daisy said...

Glad you're feeling better, luv. :)

Oxygen is over-rated. Ask any smoker.

Elizabeth McClung said...

Gaina: yeah, I guess pain itself can make ya dopey. I am glad I not the only one with the "big baby head" issue.

Lene: Good, since not enough oxy is like a usual state, I can only hope that helps the blog improve. Yeah, and I know once out, I would get like the non-cute one with colic for 36 months. It just seems unfair when you see parents with super cute, super QUIET children that they haven't figure a way to test if yours would be the one screaming "No" or not.

Yeah, I'm happy about the cleavage!

Niall: Yeah, but if nature has a "way of making it work" why do we have to have epidurmals and stuff? See that is the hormone wash that hits a woman like a few hours after she says, "NEVER, EVER AGAIN" and then it is all bonding and it all fades away. Unless it was really horrific and there was like 24+ hours of labour, that she remembers in order to tell every single woman who is having her first baby.

I'm glad you're still here too Niall, especially after todays post....and this would be the reason why Linda claps her hand over my mouth after dental sedation.

Lisa: Horaay, it isn't just me! Yes, why did I think of that, talk to a nipple piercer - actually because that would probably be like a chat up line for a first day, "Are you a nipple piercer? Can I talk to you about breasts? And my breasts?"

I'm glad the analogy helps, I lot of the time I do want to take blood work and stuff and see what is going on inside but except for basic vitals, I just hang on until the ride comes to a full and complete stop.

Racoon: No, though I think my brain might have released something, it thinks I'm being tortured for some reason. Yes, I know, I may not be the only person who feeds the squirrels but I am probably the only one who talks to them like, "Oh, are you having anxiety and depression. Have a peanut but remember, a peanut isn't a substitute for love."

Cheryl g: Well that cracked both of us up and if there was an award for best metaphor in comment section, you would have just won it.

Elizabeth McClung said...

Lisa: Thanks for your best wishes, I am not really better but I have talked with Linda and may be cancelling some appointments this week - will see. Yeah, I would be pretty worried if they came back and found a cure but then again, everything I write is pretty much just ME so I'm sure any work place would find that out pretty soon (you know....like they did when I verbally went after all the big bosses at Linda's work's Xmas party).

I've never had a full blown panic attack, just phobic anxiety, but they do sound pretty unpleasant particularly if your body is feeding you not so good info: I did notice that one of the symptoms of a heart attack is "Ominious feeling or feeling that you might die" which I think is also the same symptom in a panic attack. Some sort of crossed wires there.

Bear in the woods: Hmmmmm, yeah, right, I am wondering if a bunch of a gay guys' penis got longer all of a sudden, would that like make front page of some of the forums and gay magazines. So, no dissing the breast, you got your obsessive body part (trust me, I've seen the pics....so many, many pictures) and I have mine.

As for birth, well, a baby is misty eyed, getting one OUT, yeah, I don't get that either.

Daisy: On my way to recovery bay! You aren't making a big sell since now all I hear in my head is smokers cough.

Lisa Harney said...

Oh, I misread and thought you had improved at least somewhat, since your blood pressure had dropped from those upper danger levels. :(

And yes, panic attacks seriously mix up your signals, and the symptoms can get far more complex than "chest pain, shortness of breath, and impending doom." Fun times.

Elizabeth McClung said...

Lisa: Oh, yeah, I'm not like having to decide each hour, do I go to the hospital now - but I have a lot of erratics and am weak and well - post run over so it isn't quite "back to normal" - whatever that passes for around here, but with Linda gone tomorrow I don't know how much I will be able to be on the computer.

Veralidaine said...

Okay, it is totally your fault when I put my hands around my coworker's new baby's head the next time I see it.