Medicine


Apparently Nottingham is a boring place at night because my number one stalker felt the need to comment on my blog again. As you can see, one of its residents, who claims to be named Roslin, is so bored that she felt the need to tell me: I will say something. All you do is take, take, take – you want money, you want people to come and do repairs for free. You and your parents do nothing but take and expect and whinge and moan. You are home all day, every day, do some repair work yourself because we all know you are not really sick! Interesting. It’s amazing that someone who lives across the globe from me knows not only my health status, but that of my parents. Apparently she missed a few weeks back when my mom was in the hospital with respiratory failure and kidney failure, or that her kidney failure has gotten worse; something I posted about rather regularly on Instagram. And she must have missed all the posts I’ve made on Twitter about my father having dementia and going through all the fun that that entails. A post shared by Janet Morris (@msjanersm) on Jan 21, 2017 at 4:38pm PST A post shared by Janet Morris (@msjanersm) on Jan 23, 2017 at 10:15am PST A post shared by Janet Morris (@msjanersm) on Jan 25, 2017 at 11:26am PST Almost. A post shared by Janet Morris (@msjanersm) on Jan 27, 2017 at 9:55am PST Signs at the hospital are confusing. A post shared by Janet Morris (@msjanersm) on Jan 27, 2017 at 9:57am PST Apparently dad had a panic attack at the grocery store with mom, when she went to get something w/o tell him, today. #dementia — Janet Morris (@janersm) August 3, 2016 Now he thinks his phone is trying to keep him from saving appointments on it. #dementia — Janet Morris (@janersm) October 4, 2016 Dad’s EEG & Doppler are tomorrow/later today. #dementia — Janet Morris (@janersm) October 20, 2016 Anyone know if this also can involve anger & threats of violence? https://t.co/Aa1xviG2AY #dementia — Janet Morris (@janersm) January 16, 2017 The GP/FP said with his memory & behavioral issues and his family history (at least 4 blood relatives with #dementia) that it was needed. — Janet Morris (@janersm) March 7, 2017 Yeah, parents who have organ failure and parents who are put on dementia medication are so healthy. I really hope that Roslin is never responsible for the healthcare of anyone. Maybe she isn’t a doctor. If she is, then I bet her patients will all die very painful deaths because she’s clearly not good at this kind of thing. I know that Roslin has missed out on my health issues, which have also been discussed on various social media outlets and in private entries on here, but that’s not new. In fact, that’s kind of her shtick. She’s always wrong about my health. I know that Roslin of Nottingham once went by the name of Rachel Cooper. That time she was so wrong that she, in her rush to judgment, didn’t realize that I actually had something wrong with my knee that would require surgery and months of rehabilitation. In fact, bringing up Rachel’s failure at diagnosing me became a bit of an ongoing joke. I tend to laugh at pathetic little trolls like Roslin/Rachel. That’s all you really can do with them. Well, that and pity them. Poor little sociopathic babies. I think that she may also go by “Rachel Clarkson”, the person from the United Kingdom who decided to send me a snarky tweet last week within a day or so of my posting the link to GoFundMe. Who knows what her real name is? I bet that her internet provider does. In fact, I’m hoping that they get back to me on my inquiry into it. I hope Roslin/Rachel realizes that people who are chronically ill and who are caregivers of people who are chronically ill have a tendency to whine and moan about their lives because having health issues sucks. Not only does it make your life painful and stressful, it drains your finances and any little bit of energy that you might have. People like me complain because life is not something anywhere near pleasant, and part of that is because I have to regularly deal with people like her. Roslin/Rachel isn’t the only person who acts like this. People that I know offline do it. Distant cousins have done it, including the ones who submitted my name and video to a comedy show so that I could be mocked. Total strangers, ones who aren’t sick enough to stalk my blog for two years so that they can harass me, do it on Twitter; at least 3 times a week lately, I get an unkind message from someone. Their favorite thing to tell me is that I’m selfish or spoiled or that I suck somehow. Oh, or that I need to get a job or that I deserve to die or that my grandmother deserves to die. There are a lot of little variants of deplorable messages that people send. And you know what? I have a right to complain about that part of my life, too. I don’t have to keep it all bottled up because some random asshole on the internet can’t deal with the things I say. If they’re that chickenshit, then they need to find a hobby or get some therapy because clearly they have too much time on their hands and have something going on that’s ‘causing them to be inhuman assholes. I pity them and their fucked up existences. I may be poor and disabled, and I may end up going to jail and being homeless for having a dilapidated house, but at least I’m not a horrible human being who gets off on trying to make other people as miserable as them.

And I’d Be Like, “Why Are You So Obsessed With ...


Only four posts in and I’ve already touched a nerve. @janersm which literally most people do on a regular basis. And the fact you’re writing a 2500 essay on the wrongs of trump is biast — StopRaven (@stop_raven) July 26, 2016 It’s “biast” for me to express my own opinion. Oh my goodness. How dare someone have an actual opinion! So, if you didn’t read my first, second, or third set of 21 reasons to oppose Trump, consider reading those before you read the next 21 reasons. After today’s post, there will be 95 more posts. If they were bottles of beer, this could be a song. 64. Donald Trump lied about witnessing Muslims celebrating 9/11 on a rooftop in Jersey City, New Jersey. I’ve mentioned Trump’s mocking of Serge Kovaleski, but not how he earned the ire of Trump. Kovaleski had covered a story in 2001 that suggested that there were people in Jersey City partying on rooftops. Donald claimed to see thousands of Muslims in New Jersey celebrating on rooftops after the World Trade Centers collapsed. He claimed there was video of it on television all the time. When he was asked about it by George Stephanopolous, Trump said: “It was well covered at the time, George. Now, I know they don’t like to talk about it, but it was well covered at the time. There were people over in New Jersey that were watching it, a heavy Arab population, that were cheering as the buildings came down. Not good.” Except it wasn’t, because it didn’t happen. The story was never about thousands of Muslims. There was no video. It’s all in Trump’s head. 65. Trump insulted Seventh-Day Adventists. While speaking to supporters at a campaign rally in Jacksonville, Florida in October 2015, Trump, after talking about how he’s a Presbyterian, said, “Boy, that’s down the middle of the road folks, in all fairness. I mean, Seventh-day Adventist, I don’t know about. I just don’t know about.” While Trump’s dig may not sound that vicious, it was meant to be very vicious. You seem, some Christians don’t believe that Seventh-day Adventists are even Christian. This is a group that also refuses to vote for non-Christians. This was a time when Trump was behind Ben Carson by 9 percentage points; Carson is a Seventh-day Adventist. It was personal. 66. Trump hired Manafort. When Donald Trump dumped Corey Lewandowski and replaced him with Paul Manafort, very few people in America knew of the background of Manafort. Most stories touted him as having ties to the Republican Party. A few brought up some recent jobs of of his. Manafort has ties to Viktor Yanukovych, who was the the prime minister of the Ukraine at the time, as well as an ally of Vladimir Putin. In 2010, Yanukovych became the president of Ukraine, but had to flee to Russia during the 2014 revolution. Manafort was also a consultant of Yanukovych, helping Yanukovych’s first run for the Ukrainian presidency in 2004. When Yanukovych hired him after the first results were invalidated, Manafort was meant to improve his images. He was unable to in the time given, but Manafort continued to work within Yanukovych’s Party of Regions. Manafort was still working with the administration when Yanukovych fled and continued working within Ukrainian politics after he’d fled, including his reported involvement in the 2015 election campaign of Vitali Klitschko, who ran for mayor in Kiev. Now, Manafort is working with Donald Trump and was even used on July 27th on CBS This Morning to argue that Donald Trump had no ties to Vladimir Putin’s regime, which may have ties to the hacking of the DNC by Russians and subsequent Wikileaks email release. 67. Trump called Hillary Clinton “shrill” at a rally. A lot of people don’t like Hillary Clinton, but most don’t call her “shrill” at campaign events. Actually, he didn’t just say it once, he said it twice–over-pronouncing it the second time. I guess he wanted to make sure that everyone at his half-empty rally heard him correctly. He tried to suggest he calls men shrill, but if he has, it hasn’t been on Twitter. And he should know that the term “shrill” is meant to shut women up. My guess is: that’s why he said it. Luckily, it didn’t work. 68. Trump mocked Fiorina’s physical appearance. No, really. He did and managed to do it while being interviewed by Rolling Stone. When the anchor throws to Carly Fiorina for her reaction to Trump’s momentum, Trump’s expression sours in schoolboy disgust as the camera bores in on Fiorina. “Look at that face!” he cries. “Would anyone vote for that? Can you imagine that, the face of our next president?!” The laughter grows halting and faint behind him. “I mean, she’s a woman, and I’m not s’posedta say bad things, but really, folks, come on. Are we serious?” When asked on Fox News if he really said something like that, he confirmed, saying, “Probably I did say something like that about Carly.” But he tried to walk it back with, “I’m talking about persona. I’m not talking about look.” Donald always has an excuse. 69. Donald Trump believes that John McCain shouldn’t be considered a war hero. While speaking at the Family Leadership Summit in Ames, Iowa, Trump said of McCain, “He’s not a war hero. He was a war hero because he was captured.” 70. Donald Trump also stated that he doesn’t believe that people who are captured are war heroes. In his words, “I like people who weren’t captured.” He’s walked those comments back, because they didn’t go over very well, but they were still said. And his reframing of his comments (“If somebody’s a prisoner, I consider them a war hero.” and “If a person is captured, they’re a hero as far as I’m concerned. … But you have to do other things also.”) didn’t really explain the difference between McCain’s capture and the POWs who he actually sees as a war hero. 71. Trump comes up with childish and […]

2016 Reasons to Oppose Trump: Reasons #64-84



1
I’ve had clinical issues with depression for 24 years now. I’ve been in and out of therapy, mostly in, for all of that time. I’ve been medicated for it for the better part of 19 of those years. I know the symptoms. I understand the importance of my medicine. I do everything I can to not be in an acute state, but it still happens. It doesn’t help that my body has always had a love-hate relationship with the only antidepressant I’ve had a significant positive reaction to. Effexor is my savior and my torturer. It is fickle. It is capable of a level of pettiness that would cause Gossip Girl characters to screech obscenities. So when I legitimately forgot to take it until nine hours after it was due, my nervous system decided to revolt. Two hours before I remembered, I was crying over a television show being watched in another room. My eyes were overwhelmed by light. My ears couldn’t handle sound. I felt tired. I felt scared. I felt like my life was meaningless and that I served no real purpose in the world. I felt like I should just go ahead and die. I’m lucky. The years of therapy and medicine, of knowing what my disease is like, of knowing why grieving has increased my risk of suicide for a while,1 and of knowing that the disease was lying to me made me start thinking: why do I feel like this right now? Because I have the tools & skills to do so, I started figuring out what happened.  When I fixed my breakfast, I didn’t take my Effexor because I was trying to avoid taking any of a new brand of Fish Oil supplements.2 I actually missed several medications & supplements while avoiding that one thing. And that sent me into a tailspin.  That’s all it takes.  One mistake.  One bad decision.  Depression takes advantage of those mistakes and decisions. It is opportunist, but with the right tools, you can fight back. And if it’s a chronic issue, like mine, that will just be one battle, or maybe just a skirmish, in a lifelong war with it. But I’m willing to fight because I prefer it to the alternative.  Photo via Visualhunt.com Especially after a brief Facebook encounter where someone decided to discuss a graphic rumor of how she had died. ↩It’s too fishy. ↩

This Is What Depression Feels Like 


A few days ago, I decided to give in to my curiosity about the lab results my super-awesome1 rheumatologist ordered when I went in for my sweat hiatus.2 The checkout slip had my login details for that office’s EMR on it, so I went to check it out.  Aside from finding out how truly abysmal the office’s record keeping skills are—my medicine, surgery, & allergy lists were inaccurate, he claimed he prescribed my Effexor, he was consulting with a doctor I haven’t seen in 6-7 years about my case, he had 4 visits total listed, even though there have been at least 12-16 visits, old lab reports were missing, old prescription data from drugs he’d prescribed was missing—I found out that he had a “plan of care” that revolved around telling me how fat I am3 and how I need to start exercising.4 I also found out that he thinks I’ve been on my Flexeril too long. I’m fairly certain that I pointed that little issue out about two or three years ago when I asked him to try something else because the Flexeril had become ineffective. But hey, it’s just my body, what do I know?  I would claim that I felt incredulous,5 but I can’t fake my disbelief over his ridiculous & somewhat terrifying antics. Seven years of this same old bullshit just wears a girl out.6 But this isn’t supposed to be about his incompetence. This is supposed to be about lab results. Tell me what your first reaction would be to these results.  Notice anything odd about them?  There are no units of measure listed on the ANA test. And the way the “normal range” section is phrased sounds like anything above 120 or below 100 is bad. Think again.  I had to search for an explanation of these results harder than a Disney prince has to search a magical forest for a barely legal future wife to take home to his dysfunctional family.   And I found one. Sort of.  Apparently, the range should read like this: Negative: Below 100 Equivocal: 100-120 Positive: Above 120 So I tested positive for the ANA Qualitative Test, the SSA (Ro) antibodies test, and the Scl-70 test. That could indicate: Lupus, Sjögren’s, Scleroderma, MCTD, UCTD, etc. It could also be a fluke because truly healthy people can have positive readings on these tests, and people diagnosed with them can have negative ones. So I’m not worrying too much about that.  I’m a bit more concerned with my CBC because my platelet volume was almost too low, while my platelet count was close to the upper limit. Combine that with an increase in red blood cells and you’ve got a warning that the anemia isn’t far from striking. I guess that explains why I’ve felt more down & out, and why my body has gone into the “I’m dying” feeling that accompanies the anemia. I’m going to get the rheumatologist to forward that part of the labs to my hematologist, to make sure waiting to the end of the year for my tests + infusions is still safe. I really dread the infusions, but they’re part of my life now. I will just have to deal.  Anyway, you know how I restarted my Pilocarpine/Salagen after the last rheumatologist appointment. Apparently it’s started helping because I have, drumroll please, started sweating. You never really can appreciate sweating and its purpose until you’ve gone without it. When I noticed how sweaty I was getting, I was ready to do backflips, except that I can’t do them.7 Another thing that I noticed is my mouth hasn’t been as dry, which is really strange because I’ve had dry mouth issues since I was a child. But I’m thankful for the saliva, too. It’s amazing how little things that most people take for granted or get annoye or disgusted by can make me want to do a happy dance.  at forgetting ↩The thing that’s potentially fatal, but that my rheumatologist is all blasé about. Who needs sweaty pits and tits in 90-100°F humid, summertime-in-Alabama weather? Oh, right, everyone. ↩16 points of a 23 point list ↩Because telling a doctor that you’re concerned that a 45-minute, 1.8 mile walk in 85°F+ didn’t cause you to sweat and that the overheating was limiting your exercise choices doesn’t get the message across that you’re actually exercising. ↩Not a Disney movie title adjective, though it could be. ↩A girl has no name. ↩I never could, unless I did them accidentally while falling. ↩

Bad Positives



Well, I never mentioned how the rheumatologist appointment went. I guess that’s because it happened almost exactly as I a predicted. It was bad. How bad was it? It was so bad that I wish I could time travel to the past and let Rodney Dangerfield use it as material for some of his “How bad was it?/It was so bad” jokes. Everything was fine until the doctor came in. He half-listened to my complaint, said that anhidrosis isn’t a symptom of anything he treats, and told me that all that he ever saw me for was “loose joints” and pain. I told him that the family doctor said she thought my “loose joints” and lack of sweat were related. He said no. I said she thought he should treat it because he treats connective tissue disease. He went into a long rambling session about how my family doctor meant that he treats autoimmune diseases and that “loose joints” aren’t really a connective tissue disease because they don’t involve the immune system. He said that “loose joints” are a collagen issue and that they only cause problems in the joints themselves. I tried correcting him on his ignorance, but when I did, he repeated his rambling.  My mom asked if it could be from the Sjögren’s/UCTD. He said it was possible, but that those were connective tissue diseases & I didn’t have connective tissue diseases. She mentioned Mamama had Sjögren’s and he said it was possible that I inherited it from her. That “Sjögren’s is genetic” part of his ramblings was almost verbatim from the ramblings he made that time seven years ago when I tested “positive” for the antibodies related to Sjögren’s. He looked in my mouth and said it was dry. He asked about my eyes & I told him that the ophthalmologist had done the paper test years ago. He asked about the results and I practically rolled by sore, dry eyes at him as I told him that they’d been dry. He said he would test me again for Sjögren’s and that if it was positive he might consider putting me on Pilocarpine.  He then said something about Pilocarpine costing $95/month and insurance never covers it. You know, so I wouldn’t expect a prescription for it. The funny thing is that I knew he was bullshitting on that part. You see, I had been given a prescription for a medication called Salagen given to me by the UAB doctors a few months ago. They’d noticed my mouth dried out too much for me to talk. Salagen is the brand name of Pilocarpine. It costs $1.20 for 120 pills; 120 pills is a monthly supply. I left the appointment feeling like the air had been sucked out of my lungs. By the end of the appointment, I didn’t know whether I was pissed at him or myself. The longer he rambled, the more I felt myself retreating into the “doesn’t speak up for herself” zone. I started feeling incompetent. I started feeling like maybe I was the one who was uninformed.  But my family and my therapist wouldn’t stand for that thinking.  I’m not the one who: Doesn’t understand that connective tissue disease is an umbrella term for many kinds of diseases.1 Doesn’t understand that many autoimmune and non-autoimmune diseases can cause sweating to cease.  Doesn’t keep adequate patient records.  Doesn’t listen to the patient or their family.  Failed to prepare or educate myself before the appointment.  I’m not the incompetent one. He is.  My mom said I need a new rheumatologist. When I told Debbie about the appointment & about the phone calls, she said I need a new rheumatologist. Guess what I discovered in my search got rheumatologists who take my insurance?! I’m pretty much stuck with a doctor who doesn’t know what the hell he is doing.  I hate the phrase “fuck my life” but it almost seems appropriate here.  Photo credit: C_Dave via Visual Hunt / CC BY-NC Joint Hypermobility Syndrome & Ehlers-Danlos are connective tissue diseases. ↩

Call Me Janet the Divine. On Second Thought, Don’t. 


As you may have figured out, members of my family tend to be a little bit challenged in basic coordination. Put simply, if falling on our asses or into the asses of other people1 was an Olympic sport, we would win it every four years. Hell, we could win the summer and winter versions of it, so it’d be like a medal-palooza every two years. Other clumsy families would be so freaking2 jealous.3  Wait. What was this post supposed to be about? Oh, yeah.  On Friday evening, Nana fell at the nursing home. They called us at seven o’clock on Saturday morning.4 There were assurances that she seemed to be doing fine. All that they thought was wrong was some bruising, which is another Olympic sport my family could dominate in.5 Nana was still able to get up and move around.  They weren’t worried. We weren’t worried.  But Nana’s BFF was worried. Mary didn’t think her leg seemed okay, so she called my mom on Tuesday evening. Before my mom could call and let the center know that Nana’s friend was worried, the nursing home called to tell us that they were doing a Doppler study on her leg because (she started complaining about it hurting worse so) they thought there was a blood clot in it.6 But there wasn’t a single blood clot in her leg. Don’t start cheering about that because I’m being really literal. Nana had two blood clots in her femoral vein.7 Now, Nana is going on Xarelto, so obviously… Nana is going to be the next major pro-athlete in the commercials.  I’ve already shown just how much my family could kick ass if everyday things were Olympic events, so the pharmaceutical companies have got to call us, right? Right.8 I’m not sure if telling my doctor that I have yet another relative with blood clots would be a good idea. She may want to confiscate my norethindrone. That would be awful for everyone.9 And it would be a bloody mess. Literally.10 But I guess it’s a case of better red than dead.11 Though I guess it could end in my death via anemia or exsanguination.12 Yeah, so…bleh.  But Nana’s totally okay, except for she’s on total bed rest until the clots dissolve.13 Another story for another day. ↩Did I just do a faux obscenity? God, I hate those. I should’ve just said fucking. ↩Humble bragging is losers. ↩No words. ↩Be jealous. ↩Hey, look at yet another thing we excel at. ↩Go big or go home, amirite? ↩Given how wackadoodle some bloggers have been lately, I feel the need to point out that I don’t believe this crazy shit. Nana does have a clot. My family does have a history of those, easy bruising, and falling. ↩Don’t make me take my earrings out. ↩TMI, sorry. ↩Without the pro-Soviet or pro-Badgers implications. ↩Say that word ten times fast. ↩And I’m okay except my nightly Flexeril is making me a little weirder than usual. ↩

A Professional Athlete in the Making



1
I was right. The appointment with the cardiologist was no big deal. He’s happy that I want to exercise. He’s pretty sure I will be totally fine exercising with my Thumper-esque heart. He believes that exercise will slow my freakishly fast heart down. That would be nice.  After two technicians finally found my heart rhythm to do an EKG,123 the doctor came in to talk to me. Apparently UAB wasn’t clear about why they wanted me to be seen—specifically that they wanted a new echocardiogram done. The cardiologist did order another echocardiogram in the end, since it had been five years since my last one & he wanted to be safe.4 He said that he just wanted to confirm that my heart didn’t have anything dangerous going on. I can understand and appreciate.5 The echocardiogram went pretty well. A tech there couldn’t find my full blood pressure.67 My systolic8 pressure was 114 at this point. After she tried & gave up, I had to take my shirt off9 and put on a gown.10 It seemed pretty standard for an ultrasound thing, except the gel got in one of my pigtails. Oh, and there was a little shuffly beat that caused the tech and me to do that confused head tilt that dogs like to do when they hear a certain noise that irks them. So she listened to that a few times & highlighted it, so I’m sure the doctor will get to examine it more clearly. Oh, and you know how I get super annoyed about how high the UAB doctors think my blood pressure is.11 They love to hint at putting me on medicine for hypertension.12 And I have tweeted & blogged about how I think that putting me on blood pressure medicine is a little bit of a bad idea.13 I was right to be annoyed.1415 My blood pressure was 98/64.16 Blood pressure medicine would drop that under the 90/60 limit.17 So no blood pressure medicine for me.18 But I’m pretty sure that everything will be okay and that my full clearance to exercise will soon be official. Even with my shuffly beat.  No worries.  Photo credit: Popfossa via Visualhunt / CC BY-NC No shit. They couldn’t get a reading on 3-4 leads. ↩I considered singing “If I Only Had A Heart” while they looked for my heart. No really, I was going to, until I realized that that would make it harder to read. ↩My boobs were out in the open the whole time they couldn’t find my rhythm. ↩He didn’t want to be sued if the medical clearance killed me. ↩Don’t let me die, Dr. dude. ↩I swear I’m alive. ↩And not a robot. ↩Top number. ↩My boobs spent a lot of time out of my clothes today, but not for fun times. Bummer. ↩Those things suck, btw. ↩I’ve complained about this on here & on Twitter many times in the past. ↩Sometimes they don’t hint. They say, “We’re putting you on this medicine for your blood pressure.” I can usually convince them not to prescribe it. One time, when I was anemic and my blood pressure was going under 90/60 at times, they actually did prescribe blood pressure medicine. I didn’t take it long. ↩Because it would literally KILL ME. ↩Unless you want me dead, you should be annoyed, too. ↩If you want me dead, gtfo my blog. ↩Automatic blood pressure machines can suck it. Manual blood pressure ftw! ↩90/60 is the magical number where it becomes hypotension. Hypotension can cause kidney failure. Hypotension is dangerous. Hypotension is a big do not want. ↩Trust your instincts about your own body. ↩

My Heartbeat Post


I really do cry before my birthday. The day before my birthday seems to be a stressful, depressing, anxious time for me.1 I cried a lot Tuesday. My depression and anxiety issues didn’t mix well with my racing heart, a milkshake,2 and my inability to find my Effexor bottle most of the day.3 I found it eventually and stopped crying like a toddler.  It’s a tradition that I need to break. Maybe I’ll figure out how to do so one of these days.4 Because the rest of my life is super fun time. ↩Damn you, lactose intolerance! ↩In addition to dizziness, blood pressure issues, a little catatonia/increases in pain & fatigue, and profound bitchiness, a lack of Effexor leads to crying fits that just won’t end. ↩Yeah, right. ↩

I Cry Before My Birthday 



Well, I scheduled the appointment with a family doctor. Not mine. Mine isn’t on the schedule for the rest of February and they don’t have her schedule available for March either.1 I don’t know the doctor that I will be seeing. I’m not anticipating anything good coming from the appointment, but I knew I had to make it anyway. New doctors and me don’t really mesh well. Actually, doctors in general don’t mesh well with me.2 My doctor has had some cringe-worthy moments, but she does listen to me. She understands that I am trying to take care of myself and I’m not trying to do something that my body cannot handle.3 And she’s encouraged me to exercise in the past.4 I’m hoping that she can talk to the doctor who will be seeing me or leave a note in my chart explaining that I’m not a complete masochist who wants to die from falling off a stair-stepping machine. I sent her an email explaining that I needed her help. I need a medical clearance for the Wellness Center to continue my physical therapy exercises on my own. A form was sent one to you, but I was called this morning & told someone else denied clearance because of the Ehlers-Danlos. Specifically, they mentioned skin involvement, which is mild for me. I know what exercises I can and can’t do without hurting my joints. The only things I was thinking of adding in were Pilates and pool exercise, which are both considered safe for people with Ehlers-Danlos because they’re low resistence, high repetition. I’ve never met the doctor that I’m supposed to see, which is hard for me because I tend to be intimidated by new doctors & feel like new doctors don’t always listen to me. I’m scared if Dr. ******** refuses that the strength I’ve built up since last summer and especially since the surgery will disappear. I’m worried that without continuing to do the exercises I will end up having more surgeries. Can you help? Hopefully, she’ll be able to do something. I also sent her one letting her know that I did try to get an appointment for the mini-pill prescription. I tried to schedule an appointment for the Norethindrone prescription, since it is a high-risk medicine for me, but the prescription was called in without an appointment. I thought you might want to know that I haven’t had any signs of clots while I’ve been on it. I also haven’t had any excessive bleeding while on it. Dr. ******, my hematologist, said that being on birth control is going to give me another year without infusions, but that I will probably need one this coming December or next year sometime based on my ferritin levels. I want her to know that I am trying to do things that I’m supposed to do to prevent future health problems. I’ve been by past doctors accused of not trying to take care of myself. I refuse to be blamed for these things. I refuse to let doctors, nurses, and random office workers5 who don’t know me and who don’t care about my overall well-being sabotage the progress that I’ve made and risk my life in the process. UAB Huntsville is prone to this sort of “well they aren’t on the schedule” and “oh, we don’t have a schedule for next week or next month available yet” thing. They do it to every patient, no matter what is wrong with them. No matter how dire the situation. And I’m not saying my situation is dire, but they’ve done it with my mom when she’s tried to schedule appointments for diabetes and blood pressure. ↩When you have a soft voice and you cry easily, doctors walk all over you. When you have a soft voice, cry easily, and chronic illnesses, they walk all over you while wearing heels that have Lego blocks on the bottom of them, bumpy side down. ↩Or she has acted like she understand this. ↩If she doesn’t support my use of the Wellness Center, then she’s being hypocritical. ↩The person who decided that I didn’t need the appointment for the norethindrone prescription was a receptionist with no medical training. ↩

Blood, Sweat, and Tears


If you considering seven years a long time, then I’ve been using Twitter for a long time. Even if you don’t, that’s longer than most people have been on the site. It’s probably longer than the user @AdmForrestal has been using it, but he’s brought the weirdness in a major way. I would applaud his weirdness or laugh at it if it wasn’t so ridiculous and, to some degree, frightening. This racist human being1 has decided that I defend the opinions that I have so vehemently because I’m working for someone. That’s right. I have a particular opinion because I’m a shill for some company or government agency. Yes, just what any contrarian would do with their life: conform to a particular idea to make money. Because contrarians are all about the Benjamins and not about the whole thinking-for-themselves thing. Uh-huh. But really this guy claimed I’m a shill. @janersm You clearly have been told to ind this post on the internet and make shit up who do you work for? — JamesForrestal (@AdmForrestal) November 9, 2015 And why did he do this? Because he’s nuts. No, I shouldn’t say that, especially since I would chide anyone else who promoted stigma when they were encountering someone who behaved in a difficult manner. His reason was that he believed that I lied about my experiences in hospital emergency rooms. He said that patients don’t get visitors until they’ve been stabilized. That’s not always true. One of my examples of that not being true was back in July of 2012 when a mound of fire ants decided to make me their bitch. I was at the park with my mom and my dad waiting between doctor appointments. We sat under a shady tree because it was hot as hell outside and we happened to sit next to a fire ant mound. We didn’t know that my predisposed-to-atopy2 body had decided that fire ants were just so out of style and that it wanted nothing more to do with them, so it just had to respond with anaphylaxis. Clearly, no other reaction would have been appropriate for that situation. My parents, as witnesses to my fall and the first people that I mentioned the ant bites to,3 were essential to my care that day and to keeping me alive. They were the ones who told the doctors about my medical history. And they were the ones who eventually told the doctors about the ant bites. Before that happened, they thought that my fall and my two fainting spells were a result of the heat4. But the fainting, the hospital visit, and everything associated with that day was all clearly a part of a conspiracy to upset @AdmForrestal. When I mentioned before I “fainted” that we were hanging out at the Park, I was clearly just setting up this ruse. Dad decided we could spend some time under a tree at the park; so did the birds http://t.co/ujNyLHij — Janet Morris (@janersm) July 24, 2012 The geese in the picture included with that tweet were clearly provided by PETA and were part of a liberal media conspiracy to upset this one random Twitter user over three years later. The original caption for that faked picture was “More lazy geese”, which, again, was all part of my clearly faked fall. No one in their right mind would ever insult geese by calling them lazy.5 My first tweet from the ER? Clearly, it was also a big old hoax. I know absolutely nothing about having anaphylaxis. Took 7 or so sticks to get IV started. Pulse being monitored. It was 139 at the park. — Janet Morris (@janersm) July 24, 2012 Obviously, I’ve never ever talked about being a hard stick over the last almost 15 years of having this website. And I’ve never mentioned that I have tachycardia. Those were all totally new occurrences and haven’t happened since. Except on that one day. That’s how you can totally tell that I’m a shill. Because that isn’t an ongoing issue for me. @janersm Idiot, the shock of hives and vomiting is not life threatening after stabilization them bringing them into a room after that haps — JamesForrestal (@AdmForrestal) November 9, 2015 If I did know anything about anaphylaxis, I would have vomited instead of just fainting, having my heart rate go up, developing hives, and being extremely dizzy. And my life wouldn’t have been in danger even when my parents were in the room with me. And when I mentioned that I hadn’t been tweeting during the rest of my visit? Clearly, that was me covering my ass. I must have needed some time to come up with the whole story. I wanted to update when I got discharged but my phone was completely dead, so it's been charging for a few hours. — Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012 When I talked that night about how hard my father took the trip, I was obviously continuing the hoax. When he had to be hospitalized the next day for stress that included that ER visit, I was also continuing the ruse on this poor Twitter user that I wouldn’t talk to for another three years. Other than that, I'm itchy, sore, have a headache, and have been trying to reassure my dad that it isn't his fault this happened. — Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012 When I talked about the people who helped me after I fainted, I must have been making that up, too. Oh, and when I fell the principals of Ed White & Hampton Cove did the first aid while Dad called 911. They also helped keep me from — Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012 getting up. I was stubborn enough that I kept thinking I was okay to get up. The four of them managed to keep me still. — Janet Morris (@janersm) July 25, 2012 I mentioned two random schools in Huntsville in my shout-out for shits and giggles. […]

A Conspiracy of Ants