Did a half day at work today. Hadn’t felt abysmally bad when I got up. I opened my eyes and said “Whelp, I don’t want tuh get up, but I think I can.”
And so I did. But after four awful hours I said “Whelp, I guess I is gonna go home.”
Whispering as I did… “One… one… one… one…” in a really tiny voice.
I got home and called the nurse at the pain clinic – she got back to me pretty quickly. Turns out, in spite of what they say, not only can the pain increase but so can the numb and tingly stuff. It’s really alarming when you start getting number extremities that also hurt. She says that the stuff they shoot in there is pretty irritating stuff and can make all the stuff in there really inflamed. Which is really really counter-intuitive to me because I thought it was supposed to be anti-inflammatory meds that they were injecting, but no, they are irritants themselves – like paint thinner, kerosene, and copier fluid.
So there. That’s the day.
And, if you choose to read on in this post, be aware… I’m not in the best of moods.
Here’s a quick dose of humor to get you through it if you should decide to go on. I’ve made lamb confit ravioli before and done garlic confit, but I’ve never ever heard of that kind of confit before. Ever. Nope.
While we’re talking about attention-whores, I thought we could skip over to this one for a bit because I’m (surprisingly) tired of talking about myself.
butterball morbidly obese large woman person is 700lbs and wants to reach her goal of 1600lbs in her lifetime.
Despite warnings from her doctor that her bizarre experiment could kill her, Susanne insists she wants to break the record.
Dr Patrick Flite said: ‘She’s really playing Russian roulette with her life with this goal. There are well-documented complications that come with morbid obesity.
‘I would never encourage anyone to be doing what Susanne is doing.’
Dr Flite said Susanne’s medical checks showed no current problems, adding: ‘She’s capable of making her own decisions. I don’t see any psychiatric problems or anything else wrong.’
Gee, I see two people with psychiatric problems right off the bat – the butterball and her doctor.
She can’t work because she’s so friggin’ fat. Someone is paying for her food. I have to ask “Why is someone paying for her to eat the amount of food daily that would feed eight to ten other people?”
‘I want to break the stigma that being fat is a bad thing,’ she said. ‘I remind other fat people that it is OK for them to be that way.
‘The message I want to get across is for people to accept others for who they are.’
Who said there shouldn’t be stigma? When did this silly rule get made up?
Sure as hell should be stigma when you actively pursue any kind of situation that requires someone else to support you. Even if she’s independently wealthy (doubt it, look at her home, she’s no wealthier than I) then for cryin’ out loud, think of your kids, lady.
This is even worse than the couch-eater and the furniture polisher.
I know! Let’s tax people, buy kits to test their kids for drugs, send them to parents who are interested, and make it look like a great service we’re offering to people who ought to be tracking their kids better than they are! What a fantastic use of tax dollars! Yay us!
Hell, people. If I want to know if my kid is doing drugs I’ll buy a kit myself, not waste it on bureaucracy to do my job for me.