Art is my salvation.

May 2, 2012

Today has been a nerve wrecking day. I woke up at six in the morning. I don’t know why I’m still bothering taking that Ambien. I will quit soon, I tell myself. But I’m not sleeping.

I woke up, got a banana, mashed it up with almonds and a Kashi cerial and that was my breakfast. Took my new set of 10mg fluoxetine and two 100mg of tegretol, my B12 and Calcium1200+D600 IU. I got down on the floor and organized some paperwork while listening to Garbage. I’ve been having that song “Stupid Girl” in my head all week. I swear, I’d never thought about it that way, but it’s such a “borderline girl” song. It should be called “Stupid Borderline Girl”. ha. It was one of my teenage girl anthems and I swear it always will be, especially now that I call it my “Stupid Borderline Girl” anthem.

Anyway, I reviewed some of the immigration paperwork I had stacked up. It looks like I’ll be seeing the lawyers again on Friday. YAY! I have the money this time. It’s $420 that has to be paid to the “U.S. Department of Homeland Security” for the I-130 form for petition of relative. My brother paid me that amount for helping with the wedding videos and with his IRS files. I’ll explain more of what that immigration form is later. There’s just too much shit to explain in one sitting. Immigration laws are so ugh, how do you say, always changing and indefinitely unpredictable? Illogical? Aggressive, inward or outward? Difficult to read? They’re worse than a borderline! Actually, I shouldn’t even compare and insult my fellow borderlines. ANY borderline would be more reasonable than these outrageous laws!

****

I eventually got the stacks in order and then pulled out my appointment slip for today. I was scheduled for a 1pm appointment with endocrinology. I eventually went back to sleep until ten. At that time I was going to the living room and my dad called me. His photography “studio” is in a den area right between my room, the kitchen and the living room. So I have to get through there regardless. It sucks when you don’t know clients are over and your hair is a mess and you’re still in pajamas and get called over to do a business deal of all things.

See, I’ve restored photographs since I was a kid. It’s something I learned to do back in the day before Photoshop was so prominent. So you mainly used airbrushes then and all sorts of cool oil and oil pencil techniques. I love Photoshop though. Anyway, my dad calls me over while I’m still squinting from the light and trying to prop myself awake.

Two men introduced themselves and handed me an old damaged photograph. “How much will you do this for?”

“I’ll have to assess the damage and I’ll give you a quote in a minute.” Fuck! I need to go brush my teeth first.

I brushed my teeth, went out to take Luna to pee and then got back in. “This will cost you $130.00” I explained the level of damage and why I’d charged that much. I actually undervalue my work but I don’t know why people that know my dad seem to think I’m overprising it. These men didn’t though. I’m just complaining from past experiences and the fact that I’m a terrible sales person. And my dad sweetens up clients too much! It gets on my nerves. Well, that was eventually over with!  I gots me a fifty buck deposit so that means I’ll have money to pay for my own appointment today! Woohoo!

I made one of the men sign a contract, thanked them. I then excused myself and went to shower and get ready for my doc appointment.

****

The traffic was hell. What was even more hellish was the community hospital’s parking garage. Seven floors and not one damn spot available! Besides, my mom took me today (she hardly ever does) and I have little patience for her low patience.  Well, people fuckin’ honked from behind and from in front. WHAT THE FUCK PEOPLE!? We’re all in this together, can’t you see!? Baghaghagh.

Eventually, we were in. And it was crowded! I mean CROWDEDEDEDED. It’s a good thing I control my social anxiety more now. It was like a New York subway station on a Yankies game day.

I eventually got called, two hours later. And when the doc–really sweet girl–told me about the possible reactions I might’ve had with my first biphosphonate infusion last year for my Osteogenesis Imperfecta and what they can do to improve my vitamin D deficiency and my osteoperosis, she looked at the computer chart and then back at me and said, “How’s your chest feeling? You’re being followed by cardiology too, right? I see your aorta is dilated!”

WHAT THA FUCK!? Dear god/universe, why don’t you send Zeus again! Please!? Three months ago when he threw his lightning bolt at our house, he missed me.

“No, I’m not being followed by cardiology. I thought my heart was fine.”

“Oh, you’re not being followed? That’s strange.” She looked back at her computer chart, “Oh, hehe, yes… Oh, I’m so sorry. My mistake, your heart is perfectly fine!” She patted me on the knee, “Sorry about that.”

I felt like I’d just gotten me a Dr. Hibbert moment from the Simpsons, when he gives Homer the worst possible diagnosis only to realize his mistake and just does his signature chuckle. “Oh I’m just teasing, oh hoo hoo. heheh hoo hoo.” Yeah.

simpsons-julius-hibbert-edit

Dr. Julius Hibbert

Then she asked if she could examine my bones. (She just wanted to cop a feel on me guys.)

After feeling up my arms and legs and back, she asked me to lift my shirt and started feeling up on my chest. She asked about the malformed, protruding sternum, “And this one’s from birth?”

“Yes it was a prenatal fracture that never healed properly.”

“Is it more pronounced now? As your bone grew, I’m sure it got more pronounced.”

“Yes, yeah it is. When I was a kid, it was hardly noticeable.” Great, now I feel self conscious.

It went well overall though. And I’ll be getting a call from them about some new treatment that might be available for osteoporosis but that may also be helpful in improving my risk of fractures caused by the Osteogenesis Imperfecta (OI).

****

I got home and not long after popping my shoes off and lazing down to listen to a little more Garbage, I got a call… from… MR. BILL COLLECTOR!

Remember that awful letter I’d gotten from the university? (Click here if you don’t) Well, yep, they’d wanted to know what I’d planned on doing about paying that money I owe. (If any of you have dealt with this and have any advice, please do give me some. Also, if you’ve heard of the Bill Collector Mafia asking for me in Blogland, tell them I’m not here!) He was really good at not being too pushy though. And I didn’t have a panic attack. Now I just have to figure out what the fuck to do about this.

Moral of my post?

I want to do something artsy fartsy now.

“Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.” ~ Pablo Picasso

I found this too and absolutely loved it:

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addendum: You know what really pisses me off? I mean, irks me. It’s seeing all those fuckin’ McDonalds bags everywhere at every hospital. Why do most hospitals (I don’t know how it is overseas) seem to have a McDonalds in the cafeteria?Really? Really, you’re going to capitalize on people’s health? It’s a fuckin’ hospital! Let the drug and insurance companies do that since they’re experts at it! This HOSPITAL should be promoting HEALTH, not food that really WILL dilate your aorta!

addendum 2: Oh god. oh god. There are two things that have me getting nervous. OH OH OH GOD. MY FIRST APPOINTMENT WITH NEW DR. MALE THERAPIST IS TOMORROW!  And the Bell’s Palsy was getting better but these last few days, NO, NO NO. I’LL MENTION IT LATER. IT’S TOO MUCH.

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