Social Media


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 ...


I write a lot, not as much on here as I used to, but I still write a lot. For better or worse, most of the writing tends to be on Twitter, though sometimes it is on Medium or Tumblr. Occasionally, there’s a Facebook post thrown in there. Can you digress in a first paragraph? So Twitter is a major platform for me to express myself. Sometimes I make pithy polls. Typically, the polls get between 2 and 20 votes. Lately, they’ve gotten a few more. When I responded to a person claiming that the Hamilton cast’s rebuke of Mike Pence was a vicious attack, the popularity of my pithy poll was easily attributed to Elon James retweeting it: Which is more vicious:@Sanrenkay @elonjames @maggieNYT — Janet Morris (@janersm) November 19, 2016 Last night, I stumbled across this response on Medium by Tom Steele to a post on New York prisoners being allowed (on average) 11 pads or tampons per month for use during their periods: One has t0 wonder if there is more to this story. 2.8 pads per woman per week, if I read that correctly, is 11 per month which seems like a lot. Some women would be expected to need less and it is hard to imagine many women needing more than that. I fully support providing the basic hygiene products required, like food, clothes, toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, towels, tampons, etc… I responded with an explanation of why 11 is an unfathomable number of pads. I followed that up with a screenshot and a pithy poll. Raise your hand if you have ever needed more than 11 pads or tampons for a period. pic.twitter.com/fA38Oeq222 — Janet Morris (@janersm) November 30, 2016 #period #periods #livetweetyourperiod #feminism #reprohealth (please RT) During your period do/did you typically go through: — Janet Morris (@janersm) November 30, 2016 I thought the maximum number of votes would be about 20. As of this moment, there are 8,937 votes in that poll. My mentions have been filled with stories by people who have (or have had) periods of all sorts, whether they’re long, short, or regular in length; heavy, light, or medium in flow; or occur regularly or irregularly. I’ve learned about supportive friends, clueless relatives, and how many people are frustrated by how little they’ve been taught or that they know about their own bodies. I understand all of that because I’ve experienced some of it, and because I’ve seen others go through similar struggles. I’ve gone through moments where I was excited because so many people were sharing their stories1 to moments where I just wanted to throw my iPod at the wall because so many people were sharing their stories. I wanted them to feel free to share them. I love the joking. But I’m confused about how to deal with all of it. When people ask questions, I want to be able to answer them. When they say something funny, I want to be able to laugh with them. When I empathize with something they’ve been through, I want to express it. I’m worried that I’m being rude if I don’t respond. I’m also worried that all I will ever be talking about again is periods. I know it’s only been like 24 hours, and that this will die down. But this experience is just a bit mind-blowing. I worry that Mr. Steele, as annoying as I find him, will be harassed. I worry that there might be other repercussions, and I feel guilty about that. It’s a little weird when I wanted a boycott over his reaction to emotional abuse and bullying, but I don’t want him to have any personal suffering over this stuff.2 He seems like he would be the kind of guy who would laugh this sort of thing off, and maybe he will. Or maybe he’ll learn a little from it. I can hope that’s what will happen, but I will always worry about the possible negatives because that’s what I do. I worry that maybe his Christmas vacation will be spent trying to ruin my Christmas dullness. As I typed that paragraph, 34 notifications piled up on Twitter.3 This is new. This is different. This is weird. This is life with social media…and I really need to learn to stop doing my pithy polls. When Mara Wilson shared it, I fangirled out. Gayle Forman commenting about it made me fangirl a bit, too. I think I have all of her books. ↩What I truly want from both is for him to learn the facts and not promote ignorance. ↩Oy with the poodles already. ↩

Accidentally Popular



In just a few hours, I get to find out if my months of physical therapy are actually coming to an end. They should be, but the way that Brant talked on Tuesday makes me think it might not be.  If it is: I am planning on going to the Wellness Center to sign up to continue my rehabilitation on my own.1 If it isn’t: No trip to the Wellness Center will take place. I will come home as usual and continue my appointments. I will try not to be too cocky about the possibility that it may happen, but I will also try not to be disappointed if it doesn’t.2 I mentioned the possibility of changing family practice physicians the other night. It looks like that won’t be happening. The billing folks at UAB have written off the appointments. Apparently, they were all assigned to an attending who only briefly worked there. He never became certified with our insurance company. They seemed to be as frustrated with anything related to him3 as we were. So, yay, no new doctors!4 Anyway, I guess that’s all for now—except that I should point out how fucking awful Nazis/Neo-Nazis are. If you follow me on Twitter, you’ve probably seen my “conversation” with a self-proclaimed Nazi5 lately. They aren’t just bigots, they are assholes. No, wait. Assholes have the potential for good feelings. Nazis are the feeling lactose intolerant individuals get when they’ve just consumed massive amounts of ice cream, cheese, milk, etc.6 They. Are. Awful. And this guy is no different. They’re also incredibly boring, as there is only so much they can actually manage to say.7 And they piss. me. off.8 And I keep wanting to walk away from the arguments, but that ignoramus says something even more grotesque and my brain just goes into “must tell him he’s a racist jerk” mode. I should just walk away and maybe I will this time or the next. Just curious, but how would you interpret this picture?910       Oh well. I better go twiddle my thumbs11 for a while until it’s time for therapy.  My insurance plan covers a membership at the Center. ↩I am fairly certain that it will happen. ↩Re: He caused more problems than he solved. ↩I think I hear Handel’s “Messiah” playing in the distance. ↩This is where he’d go “@janersm *National Socialist.” But fuck it, he’s a fucking Nazi. If he doesn’t like being called such, he can stop being a fucking Nazi. ↩If you aren’t lactose intolerant, imagine the worst attack of nausea, fatigue, wooziness/dizziness, headaches, gas and either constipation or diarrhea you’ve ever had. Now multiply all of that by about 100. Voilà! ↩Blah, blah, blah. Jewish conspiracy. Blah, blah, blah. Lies. Blah, blah, blah. White is right. Blah, blah, blah. Holocaust? What Holocaust? Blah, blah, blah. I’m a pathetically ignorant shitbag, but I’ll never admit that. Blah, blah, fucking blah. ↩Considering how much time I’ve spent trying to learn about why & how the Holocaust and other bigotry has happened, this should come as no surprise. ↩@Bobasnotdead is the Nazi you’ve been looking for. ↩^ See what I did there. ↩Sleep. ↩

Hours Feel Like Days




My designer drug came today.1 It’s actually called Pennsaid2 and has the same active ingredient as Voltaren, which the orthopedist didn’t tell me when he prescribed it. Actually, he didn’t even tell me the name of the drug. I have been twiddling my fingers3 since the appointment wondering what this miraculous anti-inflammatory that he assured wouldn’t put my can’t-take-NSAIDs body at risk of going batshit when it encountered the drug. I knew when I saw the name that this was definitely an NSAID.4 And guess what? It has the same big boxed “fyi-this-could-kill-you” warning that all other NSAIDs have. It even says that if you have asthma5 or have issues with NSAIDs6 that the drug might not be safe to take. It goes on to say that despite being a topical drug and having absolutely nothing to do with the digestive tract at all, it can cause ulcers. Well, that’s just grand. I was so proud of the orthopedist for finding something that I could take that might help my leg.7 Clearly that pride was misplaced. I know that I’m more prone to adverse reactions than most people.8 I know that it says that it’s not likely to happen, but that doesn’t mean that it is safe to give it to a patient who has clearly told you9 she CANNOT take NSAIDs. When I tell a doctor I can’t take something, I mean that I cannot fucking take it. I’m not playing around. There are some drugs that I don’t like the side effects of, but will take anyway. NSAIDs are not one of those. I list them with my allergies because I know that they are not just unpleasant, they are contraindicated given my history of stomach issues1011 and the gastric bypass surgery. So now I’m on alert. I’ll try the stuff a couple more times to see if it’s actually safe. If I don’t react, I’ll keep using it, but I will always be on watch. I don’t think that I’ll be taking it long, though, since I’m already having some nausea, acid-filled burps, and some of the most intense upper abdominal pain that I have ever felt.12 I’m hoping that maybe the pain was me psyching myself out and that the nausea/HCl burps were a result of a little too much of my turkey tacos. If it happens again tomorrow13 then I will know that it isn’t the food. I don’t want to stop taking it and realize a long way down the line that it wasn’t actually making me sick. I also don’t want to end up with a perforated ulcer like Jenn, so I’ll be cautious about taking it. Anyway, I guess I could start blogging more at night. Some of the other medicine I’m on for the knee issue and for other issues has been keeping me up to 4 AM lately. If I’m up, I could do something sort of productive. Of course I’d have to be careful because the meds do make me a little more loopy-brained than I usually am. Oh, btw, I want to apologize to anyone14 who got annoyed by all of my tweets today. Over the weekend, I saw that #DefundPP supporters were planning a tweetfest to promote their hatred of Planned Parenthood and their related ignorance of abortion, birth control, etc. I decided to join in, except I would post facts, quotes, personal stories, etc. Basically, I was trying to help give people on Twitter some legit information instead of some bullshit propaganda. I also wanted to piss off the #DefundPP supporters. Considering the tweets that they sent me, I’d say it worked. Between being called evil, being compared to Nazis, being compared to Jim Jones/Jonestown, having my head called fat and ugly,15 and some other pleasant remarks, I’d say that the mission to piss them off was one that I clearly accomplished. There were some real assholes who decided that because I support access to abortions that I must hate babies and that I must have had an abortion. I think people who jump to that conclusion are like homophobic individuals16 who think that if you’re pro-LGBTQ rights that you must be in the LGBTQ community. Anyway, they determined that I was a baby-killer and that they would encourage their followers to harass me for killing this child that I don’t ever remember conceiving let alone aborting. That was the only tweet that I reported to Twitter because people in that movement can go a bit above-and-beyond on that scary, dangerous behavior. What was I talking about? Oh, yeah. I’m sorry for flooding some of your Twitter feeds with my #DefundPP tweets. It was for a good cause, but if it was annoying to you, and I don’t think that you’re a horrible human being, then I am sorry for my behavior. If I think you suck: Who the fuck cares what you think about my tweets? I certainly don’t. I guess that’s all. ‘Night, y’all.17 My dad got me started on calling it a designer drug. ↩I see what you did there, pharmacology people. ↩Or, you know, something else that’s fidgety. ↩If it hadn’t been, then I would give the company major props for their attempt at trolling. ↩Check. ↩Double check. ↩It doesn’t work well either. ↩Yay genetics! ↩As I typed this I thought of Willy Wonka–of the Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory film version–in his office at the end of the movie saying, “It’s all there, black and white, clear as crystal!” ↩My father also cannot take NSAIDs without having his acid issues flare up. He’s where I get the 80 mg Protonix + maxed out Gaviscon = still bubbling with hydrochloric acid stomach from. He also passed along his caffeine allergy. ↩Though it’s worth noting that Nana, mom’s mom, goes into anaphylaxis with anything, including skin creams, containing aspirin. ↩Considering that I’ve had GERD for around 20 years, gastric bypass surgery, and gallbladder failure that led to gallbladder surgery, I have plenty of experience with upper abdominal pain. Hell, it even ranks up […]

Mystifying Contraindications


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If you find me whiny or annoying or entitled or too liberal or something else and you just feel like talking to me or reading about my life is something that you don’t want to do, then don’t read about it.  Unfriend me on Facebook.  Don’t follow me on Twitter or Tumblr.  But do not sit there and make yourself (or me) miserable. If you think that I waste taxpayer money, then that’s your opinion.  Just because its wrong doesn’t make it any less your opinion.  I’m not going to change it.  It isn’t possible for me to anyway. If you think that I let liberal blogs and the news media get away with reporting on more progressive stories, then that’s your opinion.  Just because it holds no weight doesn’t make it any less your opinion.  You’re entitled to think whatever you want. If you think that I am selfish or whiny, then that’s your opinion.  Chances are that if you don’t think highly of me, I probably don’t think highly of you.  We all see what we want to see about other people, which leads to our opinions about them.  You can call me selfish and I can call you petty, but that doesn’t make either of us right or wrong. You cannot blame me for things that I have no control of, i.e. your opinions, your feelings, your beliefs.  I can’t blame you for my opinions, my feelings, or my beliefs.  The only things that we can blame one another for are the things that we actually do to one another.  So, if you feel that our friendship or acquaintance status is somehow toxic or bad or not worth it, then we don’t have to be friends.  People are only good for each other when they aren’t constantly bickering.

Notice to Anyone, Everyone, and No One