Yearly Archives: 2012

1.What did you do in 2012 that you’d never done before?  I got to live through having my house condemned. I lived in a city other than Huntsville for longer than a month–around five months. I’ve had to live without having a fur-baby of some type. I had iron infusions. I was officially creeped out by several relatives. I didn’t get to celebrate Thanksgiving. I acknowledged a long-held secret, but managed to do it in a quite secretive way. (Vague enough for you?) 2.Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?  Generally speaking, I don’t make resolutions. 3.Did anyone close to you give birth? Physically close? No. Emotionally close? Yes. Several people that I was very close to as a child had children. Then, of course, there was teh interwebz baby boom of 2012. 4.Did anyone close to you die? Yes, Xander. My sweet, little baby. I miss him every single day. 5.What countries did you visit? None. I’ve never left this country. I guess you could say that I lived in redneck country for a while. That would be true. I was in an area of the world where around 98% of the people (seriously) are white, and some of those people tend to complain about how the other folks are taking their jobs and houses away. (Oh, it was also a first to actually be in an area where there were so few non-white people.) 6.What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012? Iron. Money would be nice, too. And less drama and depression. 7.What date from 2012 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? Just one day? I don’t know if I should go for Easter, when Xander died. The next week, when our house was condemned. Two days after that, when my mom went in the hospital for two weeks and nearly died from kidney failure. May when my parents had to officially sign the dogs over to the city. Three days later when we were told we couldn’t see them again. That day in July when I fell in the park because I got bitten by fire ants and then found out that I had developed an allergy to said fire ants. The next day when I started my first round of iron infusions and then had to check my dad into the hospital because he was suicidal, before going back to Nana’s and finding out that my aunt thought my dad was faking his depression, my mom was faking her kidney problems, and that I’m, as always, evil. The day that I had to go to a cancer center and found out that my family doctors had fucked up royally when it came to my anemia, then I came home and all some of my relatives cared about was that Obama was (in their minds) an evil Muslim out to turn everyone into a socialist and do all that anti-Jesus hippie-esque stuff. Or Election Day, when I got called crazy by a friend because I said she didn’t understand what racism was. I think I know which day I’ll go with. Today, because it is the end of this godforsaken year. 8.What was your biggest achievement of the year? Not killing myself (or anyone else) or cutting or wrist-banging. Oh, and I haven’t said “fuck you” to any city attorneys this year, so that’s a plus. Oh, and I finished my 2012 Goodreads Reading Challenge for the first time. 9.What was your biggest failure? I still can’t stand up for myself in most non-internet, non-court situations. 10.Did you suffer illness or injury? Aside from the anemia, depression, and the anaphylaxis? Yeah, I’ve had headaches, but most have gotten better with BOTOX. (Whodathunk that poison could do some good?) I’ve had anxiety, but that’s nothing new. And I’ve had the bumps and bruises that come with my clumsiness. 11.What was the best thing you bought? food 12.Whose behavior merited celebration? Dad–even though he’s been so angry since we moved back into the house, he’s worked so hard this year. 13.Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Aunt Barbara, Deb, and Billy – Stalking? Disturbing and twisted. Setting someone up to get picked on via a Facebook post? How juvenile. Giving a twenty-eight year old a hard time for a Facebook picture with a Hello Kitty toy when you, as a sixty year old, have hundreds of Beanie Babies? Lame. Also, Aunt Judy. Holding me responsible for something that you think happened (but didn’t) when I was twelve now that I’m twenty-eight? Unbelievable. 14.Where did most of your money go? Paying off credit cards and getting groceries. 15.What events did you get really, really, really excited about? Every day while the dogs were at the shelter, I got excited to see them. I also got excited when my mom got out of the hospital. I think the most excited I got, though, was when I found out that our house was no longer condemned. 16.What song will always remind you of 2012? “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” by Taylor Swift 17.Compared to this time last year, are you: i.happier or sadder? Sadder ii.thinner or fatter? thinner, oddly iii.richer or poorer? poorer 18.What do you wish you’d done more of? Write 19.What do you wish you’d done less of? Cried 20.How will you be spending Christmas?  I spent Christmas sleeping and watching Doctor Who with a headache. 21.Who did you spend the most time on the phone with? Nana, probably. Or one of my parents. I never talk to anyone on the phone. (Phone fear.) 22.Did you fall in love in 2012? No. 23. How many one-night stands? None. 24. What was your favorite TV program? True Blood and Glee. 25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? Ha ha. 26. What was the best book you read? The best book that I read was either […]

A Year In Review: 2012

I think that I’ve figured out why my head has felt like I’ve got a 20 pound weight on it. (I explained it to my mom as it being similar to when Blizzard, our almost 20-pound cat that died around the time that I got this domain in 2001, would sometimes end up going to sleep on our heads when she would lay on the end of the couch.) I have been trying to figure it out since it started, but I finally saw something a couple of hours ago that seemed to fit. Apparently, with anemia, you can get this type of headache. It just means that my head’s not getting the proper amount of oxygen. It kind of pisses me off that I’ve spent the greater part of this last year dealing with a condition that is so simple to diagnose, but so damn hard to treat. You don’t expect to have anemia for a year when you live in a country where food is abundant. It seems more like the problem that you would have in a place where famines are going on. Of course, with the gastric bypass surgery, the family history on both sides of anemia, and my body’s typical fuck-you-I’m-too-good-to-process-food-properly attitude, it shouldn’t surprise me that this is going on.

The Absent Headache

Earlier tonight, I was reading some stuff on my dashboard on Tumblr. I saw someone leave not one, but three anonymous comments about being offended by Brittany posting a gif from the movie American History X. The person was initially offended by it because in the gif, Edward Norton’s character was shirtless and exposing his Swastika tattoo. (He was also waving a gun around, but I guess that wasn’t offensive.) When Brittany tried to explain it, the person still held said that they were offended. They explained it by saying that they were Jewish and that was why they were offended. I’m trying to understand that. I get that some people have things that upset them. I know that the Holocaust is a very upsetting thing to think about. I also know that if the anonymous person had checked the notes on that gif, then they would have seen it was from a movie. If they’d look long enough, they would have seen that it was from American History X. But they chose not to. If they had done some research on the movie, then they might have seen that this was a movie that was extremely compelling and isn’t glamorizing hatred or racism. They would have also learned that the movie was one that director Tony Kaye, who is also Jewish, fought very hard to make. He put down his own money. He also got into skirmishes with the distributor about what should and shouldn’t be in the movie. Movies like American History X are lessons to those of us who didn’t live through the Holocaust and didn’t see the horrors that were inflicted upon people because of race, religion, heritage, sexuality, etc. by the Nazis. It is there as a lesson for people who don’t notice the ongoing struggles in the world between people who are stuck in an “us vs. them” mentality. As for the anonymous questioner being offended simply by the image of a Swastika and their refusal to accept that it has a deeper meaning than just its use in Nazi Germany, they need to do research there as well. The Swastika predates the Nazis by around five thousand years. According to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum: The swastika has an extensive history. It was used at least 5,000 years before Adolf Hitler designed the Nazi flag. The word swastika comes from the Sanskrit svastika, which means “good fortune” or “well-being.” The motif (a hooked cross) appears to have first been used in Neolithic Eurasia, perhaps representing the movement of the sun through the sky. To this day it is a sacred symbol in Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, and Odinism. It is a common sight on temples or houses in India or Indonesia. Swastikas also have an ancient history in Europe, appearing on artifacts from pre-Christian European cultures. A person wearing a Swastika doesn’t have to be a racist. They could be displaying an ancient good luck symbol or an ancient symbol for their religion. We shouldn’t be afraid of Swastikas because of how they were misused by Hitler and his cohorts.   Sometimes people are so quick to be offended that they miss out on what is actually there. It’s okay to be offended when racism occurs. It’s even okay to check and see if someone is being racist, but people shouldn’t persist in stereotyping them as doing something wrong when it becomes clear that they don’t deserve it. More Information on Swastikas: BBC News: Origins of the swastika Jewish Virtual Library: The Swastika Swastikas: A Pictorial Atlas Truthlingo: Om, Swastika, and Shivalinga

The Things You Don’t Know Might Amaze You

I didn’t expect Christmas this year to be okay, but it was for the most part. My dad only had a one rage-like outburst, which was so much better than how he’d been doing. He got upset when he got stuck with cooking the turkey breast in the little convection oven. Mom was going to do it. (She started trying to get up and do things a couple of weeks ago–even after being told she still had three weeks to go before she was allowed to walk.) She ended up nearly falling, so he took over. He was having trouble figuring out how to do it, and she was bossing him around about it from the living room. I was asleep on the couch before this all started, so I woke up and took over. He calmed down after that, and she started bossing me around instead. I finally held up my hands and told her firmly to stop. That worked. (I wish I had known that that worked years ago.) The turkey cooked for a couple of hours, while I continued to sleep. When it was done, my dad got it out and served us turkey and (microwaved) macaroni and cheese. It was pretty good. A few hours later, we had some apple pie. Before we had the pie, I started having a migraine. Apparently, the turkey breast had been marinated in something by the wonderful people at Butterball. It had tasted pretty salty when we were eating it, and my mom mentioned a bit later that when she got it out that it was coated in some kind of liquid or something. Anyway, the marinade apparently had something in it that caused the migraine-prone part of my head to feel like it was exploding. My blood pressure started going on up, as did my temperature. (When I get sudden onset headaches, that’s not unusual.) I eventually managed to get it under control with some medicine, ice packs, and a very quick hot shower that I took between thunderstorms. The thunderstorms, which weren’t nearly as strong here as they were in South Alabama, caused the power to blink. The power happened to blink right in the middle of the special Christmas episode of Doctor Who. (This was also right around the same time that my headache had reached its worst stage.) Anyway, because we have DirecTV, the power blinking caused the satellite receiver to turn off. So it took almost thirty minutes to get it back on and get the signal back to it. Needless to say, I was not amused. Luckily BBC America is one of those channels that repeats its primetime programming twice after it finishes airing. I was able to see the end of the episode, the Graham Norton show, the 10 PM news and the part of “The Angels Take Manhattan” episode that makes me (and many fans) sob grossly before the re-airing of the special came on. I was avoiding the internet during this time because I didn’t want to read any spoilers about the episode. I knew they would be all over Tumblr after 2 or 3 PM in Central Time. During the second showing, I was afraid the satellite was going to go out again at the same point. The wind and rain had picked back up, so I was actually shocked when it made it all the way through. The episode was cool, though I now have a tiny fear of snowmen. (Thanks, Moffat.)  And when it snowed the day after Christmas, my dad and I managed to make a few Doctor Who jokes as we saw snow start to fall while we journeyed to my (only-considered-late-by-one-day-even-though-they-were-due-Sunday) library books back to the closest branch of the library. Anyway, Christmas was pretty cool except the headache, the postponed Doctor Who, and the fear that came while mom was talking to Nana on the phone. Apparently, Will and Eileen were too sick to spend Christmas with her, due to bronchitis. Eric stayed with them, so it was just Aunt Barbara and Uncle Danny. And Deb visited her later. While mom talked to Nana, I assumed my typical paranoid feeling of “oh what did I do now” that I have begun feeling every time that Nana calls. (It’s legitimate paranoia.)  So, yeah, being scared was one of the less enjoyable things from the day, but that’s not a Christmas-specific feeling, so maybe I shouldn’t count that against the day. Like I was saying, it was an okay sort of day. Since Christmas, there has been some good news. Mom is now actually allowed (by her orthopedist) to walk around some. She was told to pay attention to her pain level. If it’s hurting, she’s supposed to get off of it. I doubt that she always will. She will think that she should stay on it, even with the pain, because she’s stubborn.

‘Cause You Cause Me Such Pain

Yesterday was my follow-up appointment for the CT that I ended up having on Monday. As I expected, the CT showed nothing. I didn’t expect anything to have changed on it from the one that I had at the ER earlier in the year. The nurse practitioner suggested that I go back to the gastroenterologist and have him do another upper endoscopy, as well as a colonoscopy. I don’t think she knows just how reticent he is about doing any type of testing. I think that he is still of the opinion that I’m just a whiny person who looks Irish. While waiting for the nurse practitioner to come in, I got a chance to look at my record. (I also could have looked at the record of someone with breast cancer because it had been left in the exam room that I was stowed in.) More specifically, I got the chance to take a peek at the last blood test results. Because the test result section was a bit sloppy, I didn’t notice many of the results. I did see that my chloride level has continued to rise and is now above normal. I also noticed that my white blood cell count has gotten higher again, and is now back over the the normal level. I chickened out about giving the nurse practitioner a list of what had been bothering me recently because I thought she might think that I was just attention-seeking. My mom got upset by my not giving the list to Niki. I don’t think she understands how nervous I get about doctors and other medical professionals thinking that I’m a malingerer. I’m worried that if I give them the list that they’re going to decide that I’m a liar and that they don’t actually need to treat whatever is going on. It’s happened before. I’m sure  that it will happen again. Anyway, I don’t have to go back to the hematologist until March. I have to have my labs done again before that appointment to see if I’m depleting iron as rapidly as I had been before the mega-dose infusion. Keep your fingers crossed that enough of the iron sticks around so that I don’t have to do another infusion. My headaches are worse than they’ve been in a while. They’re also different. There’s this spot at the back of my head, on the top, left side. (On the image, it’s pretty much in the exact same spot as the “parieral bone”, which should say parietal bone.) It doesn’t hurt there as much as it’s just very, very heavy. If I lean forward, I get a sudden rush of  intense/severe pain right above my left eye. The pain gets a bit better when I lay down flat. (If I lay on my side, my vertigo goes nuts.) I also have a very painful spot in the center of the back of my head where it meets my spine. Noises/sounds and lights drive me crazy. They’re louder (for sounds) and brighter (for lights) and it’s just too much to handle. It’s almost like with a migraine, except that it’s more intense in some ways. It reminds me of the ways my head hurt after I had sinus surgery. Except for when I’ve been asleep, it’s been an almost constant problem for about a week now. My mom told me this afternoon that I should call the neurologist, which was a bit laughable because the neurologist closes around noon on Fridays during regular weeks, so I’m assuming he probably wasn’t even there today.  She suggested I call Monday, but I’m not expecting him to be there on Christmas Eve. Speaking of Christmas, this year will be the 3rd annual day where it’s just like any other day of the year. The first was the day that we got snowed in and my aunt’s family had Christmas without us. The second was last year when we were told that because we “got Thanksgiving” with Nana, my aunt’s family would get Christmas–because I’m such a horrible person that my aunt doesn’t trust herself to be in the same room as me. (Her words, not mine.) This year, we’re still prohibited from being in the same room together because she’s still all rage-y, plus we had Nana all summer and mom still can’t walk enough to get into Nana’s house. Basically, I’m not exactly looking forward to my favorite holiday because my favorite holiday has been wrecked for three years because of health, weather, and my being an incredibly evil human being. At least I’m not feeling as guilty about the Christmas away from family thing as I was last year. Oh, and as for the family drama, I think that they’ve lessened their stalking of my blog, LiveJournal, and personal Tumblr. I’ve only registered one visit from them on each of those sites during the last month. That’s better than their previous creeptastic tendencies. I’m sure they’re still monitoring my Twitter account, which is part of why I haven’t tweeted as often since I found out about the old tweets being placed in Nana’s mailbox. I’ve been a lot more paranoid since finding that out. It really did a number on my mental health.

Lost in Waiting

You would think that after seventeen years of having a period that I would have an idea when it was coming. Of course, since it was always irregular, I never really had a chance to figure out what signs went with it. I’m starting to learn, though. Like last month, where I figured out that I cry like crazy while it’s going on, I’ve figured out a new little clue about it this month. The day before it started, I wanted anything and everything that contained a significant amount of carbs. Cookies, chocolate, fruit; you name it; I’ve craved it. I remember feeling the same way last month on the day prior to it starting. Maybe if I can remember these things, then I’ll be able to anticipate the “oncoming storm” that is my period. I have a theory that the last day of my period, which, if it is anything like the past couple, will be in two days, I will lose my appetite. My appetite will then stay away for at least a week, and my clothes will start dropping off. Then it’ll slowly start coming back. It’s so awesome to be 28 and finally be figuring out how my body works. By the time I figure it out, it’ll probably change to something completely different.

I’ll Bleed You Dry Now

Throughout the summer, I realized that anytime that I got up off Nana’s couch (or any other piece of furniture), my hip would pop out of the socket. I’d had that happen a few times before, and it had just required a little bit of walking and movement to pop it back into place. Sometime during the summer, it started taking more and more time and hurting quite a bit more when it would happen, until I ended up going several days with it out of place. My mom kept telling me to call the doctor, and I kept putting it off. (I never did tell the doctor.)  Trialia told me how to pop it back in, and I was able to do it. (I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked her for that.) Since we moved back into our house, it has only popped out 2-3 times. And each of those times, I was able to pop it back in. It popped out again yesterday, but this time it was different. Instead of popping out while I was seated/getting up, it popped out while I was walking. And unlike the less painful incidents that didn’t necessarily hurt right when they happened, this one started to hurt while it happened and continues to hurt. It’s gotten worse as time has gone on. It feels like someone is stabbing me in the hip all the time, but when I put weight on it, it gets more intense, and when I lean over, it starts burning in my side and lower abdomen. If the burning had started before 5 PM, then I would have called the family doctor and seen if they could check it out. Now, I’m just going to have to try and not upset it anymore so that I can make it until at least Monday. I have to have the CT done Monday (I had to reschedule it because dad’s court appearance was running late.), so maybe I should try to make it until at least Tuesday. I really don’t want to go to the ER over the weekend–or anytime. Oy. Maybe it’ll get better without any help from a doctor. One can hope, right?

Out of Place

The guns and the bombs, the rockets and the warships, are all symbols of human failure. — Lyndon B. Johnson To say that I don’t like guns is an understatement. Hell, to say that I loathe or despise them might even be an understatement. I don’t ever remember liking them or feeling good about them, but maybe that makes sense. I did spend 7 of the first 8 years of my life in a neighborhood plagued by violence–across the street from one of the many drug dealers that lived there, at the corner where all the gangs of that area liked to come to play, etc. Then, when my parents could no longer afford to live in that house and we moved in with Dadada, I got to experience life with an ex-convict (car theft; he’d also called in a threat to radio or tv station once) who had an affinity for guns and bombs. His affinity meant that we found guns and gun parts all over the house. I saw one when I was 8, out in the open, and it scared me. I saw another when we were cleaning the house up after it was condemned. My mom has not only seen them through the years we’ve been here, she got to experience one being put at her back when he walked into the kitchen once and decided to scare her. I think I have good reasons to not like guns. I don’t like guns because I know that kids can get ahold of them. I don’t like them because I know that ex-convicts can get them, too. (Many aren’t supposed to, but do anyway.) I don’t like them because I know that there are people who are severely mentally ill that have better access to guns than they do to mental health care. I don’t like guns because I’ve been watching the news since I was young and I’ve seen tragedy after tragedy of people killed by guns. Tragedies happen so often that it’s always considered improper to discuss gun violence and stricter gun laws. That should tell our society something. If you have enough significant tragedies that occur with a particular weapon that it becomes wrong to discuss that particular weapon, there is a problem. It’s kind of like if you’ve gotten so many times a week that you can’t remember actually being sober, then you would be told that you have a problem. Gun violence is a problem. Mass shootings are almost normal in America these days. And of the “twenty worst mass shootings” in the world, eleven of them happened in America. Eleven of twenty, or 55%. More than half of the worst shootings in the world happened in one country. Five of those shootings have happened in the last five years. If you want to argue that people who do commit these acts aren’t getting the weapons legally, then you should know that you’re wrong. In most mass shootings that take place in America, perpetrators of mass shootings are getting their firearms legally. If you want to argue that people who commit acts of gun violence would still do them if there were stricter gun control laws in place, then you would also be wrong. And in states where there are stricter gun laws, gun violence is lower. This year, there has been a 48% increase in gun purchases, according to Smith and Wesson. That’s not unusual for a year that a Democrat is elected as President. (It’s pretty much the norm, because many people seem to think that guns are going to become more restricted during Democratic presidencies.) This year, there have also been cuts in the funding of mental health care budgets for 29 of the 50 states. Mentally ill people have lost the ability to get their medications, therapy, hospitalizations, etc. which is dangerous for them and dangerous for society.  It is cheaper for them to spend $400-$600 to get a handgun than it is to pay the $660 for a month of Abilify (anti-psychotic), the $400 for an antidepressant, the $100 for therapy, the $200 for a visit to a psychiatrist, and at least the $2000 per day for a trip to a psych ward so that they can transition onto their medicines properly. It is cheaper in this country for a person to end their life or to end the lives of other people than it is for them to get help. We have put our country, our people, our children in danger because it is more economically feasible to cut mental health care and and politically savvy to allow for less restrictive gun policies. We’ve put a price on the lives of everyone in this country. That is a problem.

Symbols of Human Failure

I’ve heard you comment so many times that you don’t want to pay for programs that are needed by people like me. These programs are things like Food Stamps. I figure that you probably don’t get what it’s like to be poor, so I’m going to do the math in a different way. My monthly SSI is $249.31. My monthly SSDI is $226.80. My Food Stamp amount is $108.00, and I’ve gotten that amount twice this year. I also received $88 once. This would make the total amount of financial assistance that I have gotten this year $6017.32. John Boehner, who would probably say that I get too much from the government, makes $223,500 a year as Speaker of the House. Mitch McConnell, as the Senate Minority Leader, makes $193,400. Other douches within the party get at least $174,000 per year. About 47 percent (you can laugh) of the members of Congress are millionaires. Boehner is worth around $2 million. Michele Bachmann is worth around $3 million. Paul Ryan is worth about $8 million. Mitch McConnell is worth $17 million. They are worth those amounts and they complain about my getting $6017.32 because that’s just too much. For the rich who don’t get how big of a difference there is between our wages, I shall explain it in terms of shopping. (I went with shoes because if I had the money and the body to wear these shoes, I would.) All of these are from one of the great shopping heavens, Barneys New York. My yearly total is a little more than both of these:   Mitch McConnell could afford to get both pairs 2898 times. My food stamp benefit every month is $2 less than:   Paul Ryan could afford to get 6,060 pairs of these sneakers in a month. My SSI every month is about the price of these:   Michele Bachmann could buy 1,000 pairs of these shoes in a month. My SSDI every month is about the price of these:   John Boehner could buy 730 pairs of these shoes in a month. Since some of the anti-poor members of Congress probably either wear these shoes or have family members, friends, or favorite treasured lobbyists that wear these shoes, then I figure that this could give them perspective. These pretty shoes that you might see on the red carpet are things that are little more than a fantasy for people like me. If I were explaining this to people who are on the poorer end of the spectrum, then I would use this as my argument. On cold nights, I would like to wear some fuzzy pink slippers. They cost $5 at Walmart. I considered getting them today, but decided against that because $5 now might mean that we can’t afford eggs and milk later this month. Or that might mean that we couldn’t pay a bill from a doctor that isn’t covered by our health coverage. I can’t buy shoes that the government probably assumes I can afford because I don’t know from month to month if that money that the GOP doesn’t want me to have will cover the bills. GOP, I implore you to quit being such butt-munches on taxes. Stop making it sound like people like me are draining the system. Stop calling us leeches. Stop cutting programs for us because they cost too much. Stop whining about the taxes that you’re supposed to pay because you think it sucks to be rich and be in a high tax bracket. Trust me, your financial situations could be worse. Instead of being able to afford luxury shoes, you might be sitting in your house with cold feet on a concrete floor and know that you can’t buy a pair of slippers to keep those feet warm. Every time that you complain about your tax burden, it sickens me. It disgusts me that you think that your money is more important than the lives of the people who depend on federal assistance to survive. It’s Christmastime, and instead of being Christlike, you’re being douches. You’re acting like the kind of people that Jesus would have stood up to. You’re being asses and it’s sick. In childhood stories, we see characters like Scrooge and the Grinch learn that their greed/envy is awful. We see their humanity become more evident. One might think that actual humans like you guys are supposed to be could be more humane than fictional characters. In this season of giving, you could try to give some level of empathy to the less fortunate. You could learn to compromise. You could admit you might be wrong on things. You could let your metaphorical heart grow three sizes larger. You could learn the true meaning of Christmas. You could be something more than what you are most days of the year.

Dear GOP

Well, I had the dreaded appointment today. You know how I was so worried that it had been rescheduled for when my doctor was in, instead of the nurse practitioner, and I thought that that must mean that something horrible was wrong with me? There was no need to worry. I overreacted. I still ended up seeing the nurse practitioner. My iron level is at 54, which is just above where it needs to be (it has to be between 50-150) so that my blood can carry oxygen properly. So, that’s a good thing. My platelet level has gone down to the 340 (x1000) range, which means that the clotting risk is not as bad now. (Platelets go up when you’re anemic.) We still don’t know what’s going on to cause the anemia. At the urging of my mom, I brought up the indoor sunburns, the abdominal pain, and the blood pressure/pulse issues. Niki, the nurse practitioner, said I need to have a CT scan and see a dermatologist. The CT scan is scheduled for Friday; the dermatologist is scheduled for two days after my birthday–in February. I’m not expecting anything to show on the CT scan, since the last one was ruled as being within normal limits. (I still hate that phrase.) I have to go back to see Niki again next Thursday. I don’t know what we’re going to talk about, other than the CT. Maybe she has to report back to my hematologist and see what he wants to do. Maybe it’s just the CT thing. I’m not as worried now as I was before the appointment, though I’m now back to wondering what’s been causing the anemia and I’m worried about what happens when my levels (eventually) start dropping again.

But You’re Friction