zeptember

Cross-posted from mooflyfoof’s journal here:

Iran dumps U.S. dollar for oil trades

detaer replied in mooflyfoof’s LJ that “The united states will shortly be declaring war on Iran…”

But before you go calling him a conspiracy theorist, do a bit of googling. You might find people like Mark Nestmann and this guy, who might make you think on all this a bit more, and do some more research.

Oh and if you’ve not seen it already, also check out The L.A. Times article posted this morning.

And in general, just poke around on Google news.

My reaction?

Wow, that’s what I get for not paying attention to the news. I got overwhelmed by daily news when I was commuting to work every day. When the job liberated me back in October, I took a full on vacation, and that included vacating from news and gloom and doom, and just focusing on ME.

Well.

Balance, my friends. Balance it. Pay attention to the big picture. Note to self and everyone else:
Know what’s going on in the larger world around you.

What can we do? I have no idea. I really don’t know. Time to think together, people. What do we do?
At least one person out on teh intarwebs is talking survivalist.
And here I was just joking about Y2K style rationing the other day…wish I could remember what the topic of convo was at the time.

Anyway, back to you -

Comments, thoughts, reactions, advice, tomatoes?

UPDATE:
New post from mooflyfoof here:

“Hostile” Iran Sparks U.S. Attack Plan

My friend emailed to say the coroner says it was Xanax and alcohol. How much I wasn’t told.

How many times have I taken Xanax and had a glass of wine to go with it over the years?

Too many times to mention.

After the scare with my liver in Janaury this year, where my doctor suspected Tylenol 3 and alcohol, I went clean for a few months.
I hadn’t been mixing the two on purpose, but it was around NYE when I was in pain and of course also wanting to party.
I’m sure the meds weren’t all out of my system before I had booze to drink over a period of a few days around that time. I’d also been sick through much of December. My doctor says that alone could’ve spiked my liver enzymes.

Though I got a clean bill of health this month, I won’t be mixing pills and booze anymore - not together and not remotely.

I had two glasses of Chardonnay with dinner on Sunday night. It was the first time I’ve had Chardonnay in months. I’ve determined that one glass is good, two glasses are bad. I got drunk off the second glass, and didn’t like how I felt. I didn’t like the wine headache that was forming within a matter of hours, either.

I am learning new limits for myself again. This is a good thing.

Amber Hatley, April 1977 - April 2008

She was a friend of my friend up in Tahoe. I’d partied with her a few times over the years. Sweet girl. Always accepted people at face value. Had a good sense of humour.

They think she accidentally OD’d on percs and beer. Apparently that’s the Thing To Do in Tahoe amongst the locals. Jeebus, I can’t imagine combining the two like that. I can’t even handle percs on their own.

RIP Amber.

B and I went to MEAT vs. Death Guild last night and had a great time! It was my first night out at the club drinking again in three months.

I started off with absinthe, and it was really tasty, but I could only get in about five sips before I could feel the effects of the alcohol and the stimulant. This unfortunately had a bad effect on my social anxiety, and I could feel that flutter in the back of my throat - the one that wants to say rrrrrrRRRRRAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHH!!! OMG GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE WHAT IS HAPPENING THERE’S HUMANS ALL AROUND AAAGGGGGHHHH …

So luckily Lord Drakon appeared and I gave my drink to him.

After ten minutes or so, I couldn’t handle the anxiety, so I opted for a depressant effect - straight up booze. I got a black russian in honour of dhog.
Well, the way the normal world makes black russians is a bit different from the way the DNA Lounge makes black russians. The DNA makes black russians in a pop cup instead of in a rocks glass. Holy moley - waaaay too much booze. I had about a third of that before I started feeling that blah feeling in my stomach area - probably my pancreas going HAY WTF QUIT IT WHAT ARE YOU DOING GODDAMMIT!?

Problem is, when I went to give the drink away, the DJ started playing Siouxsie and my friends all rushed to the dance floor. I tried the old fashioned way and tried to suck down the drink quick before hitting the dance floor. I left about a third of the drink and set it on the bar. I can only hope that some babybat lush saw me set the drink down and scooped it up immediately to finish it off, just like I used to do in my early twenties.

Sucking down the drink so fast calmed me down, but made me off balance. I decided I no longer like that feeling. I didn’t want to dance, now, because I didn’t want to be wobbly on the dance floor. Bugger the fact that most everyone else is drunk and wobbly on the dance floor. I just don’t like to be that person anymore. So I hung out on the sideline, so to speak.

Later, Lord Drakon spotted me and bought me a drink cuz he wanted to repay me for having given him my absinthe early on. I got a vanilla stoli and cranberry juice, thanks to input from both Ms. Chaos and Lord Drakon.

Free drink, how can I refuse? It’s so easy to go back to the old ways….

But as you might guess, I could only get through less than a third of that drink as well, also served in a pop cup, before I could take no more. By now I was full on buzzed. The buzz felt good, yes. But I just didn’t like that I was becoming more chatty about nothing in particular, and more off balance. So I gave the drink to Lupo.

And then I accidentally knocked Simon’s drink out of his hand while gesturing. Poor Simon. He looked down at the floor in abject horror and screamed NOOOOOOOOO!!!

So I bought him another of course - I should’ve bought him two on the spot.

Ok off to brekkie, then helping ppl move, bbl

I just got the results from my liver bloodwork from last Thursday - I HAS NORMAL HEALTHY LIVER!

YAY!!!

Also, Saturday I had some plum wine (I made it to 87 days sober) but you know, after like a third of a glass, my whole body felt run down and I had a sort of achey feeling in my entire trunk of my body. So I gave the rest to Badger to drink.

My assessment is that booze == poison for me, so I’m gonna continue on with the sobriety thing awhile longer, see how far I can get.

Yesterday I took it easy around the house. I walked to the doctor first thing in the morning to get the liver enzyme bloodwork done. It was a nice walk to and from the doctor (about a mile total distance).

I made an appointment to be fingerprinted for the daycare agency I’ve been speaking with since last month (my employment and references checked out, yay!).

I spent the rest of the day organising info received from caterers. I now have a spreadsheet that details total FAILURE on the part of any caterer to work with a $2k - $4k budget. We’ll keep trying.

I hung out with my friends and their infant last night - I’ll be babysitting him this Friday and most of next week. I carried the baby in his carseat for his mother, but that proved to be a Bad Idea™ for me, because the pain and bleeding came back again. It was jarring and then subsided. Then jarred, then subsided.

By the time I got back home, the pain was gone and the bleeding was going away again.

So I decided that I’d rest again today, so as not to upset my body anymore this week.

I got up at 8am and showered and decided I’d take a bus to Oakland rather than freaking myself out with anxiety over trying to park in downtown. Taking a bus or any public transit ALSO usually gives me anxiety, but I had studied the maps and was confident in the short bus ride. Besides, it’s at the same corner my man catches his bus. Somehow I was comforted in this, don’t ask me why, it’s just an emotional weirdness.

So I got to the bus stop shortly after my man had caught his bus there, and the bus arrived in minutes. I got on, paid my money, and suddenly got anxious and asked if I got a ticket or receipt. The bus driver ignored me, so I told myself it’s okay, and I walked to a spot on the bus where I could hang onto the ceiling railing, as the bus was full. I’m very very VERY proud of myself for getting on a crowded bus alone! I’m so afraid of people that in the past, I’d have an instant panic attack.

The bus got me to where it said it would, and I got off the bus and followed the directions on the street-level map I’d printed. I got to the Federal Building and went in, and set off the alarm at security, heh. I was worried it was my nipple rings, but it wasn’t - it was the eyelets in my converse shoes. The lady waved me on, no problem. Got up to the 11th floor, got electronically fingerprinted (pretty cool!), paid what money was due, and that was that! All done!

I got back on the bus at the right stop and got off again at the right stop, no problem.

Because of all I went through with pain and emotional abuse at the hospital, and all the pain in general, and for doing so well in public today, I decided to treat myself. I don’t treat myself NEARLY as often as I should. I deserve nice treats!
So after driving back to Oakland (West Oakland - I decided not to take the bus to that part of town) to pick up another batch of business cards and flyers, I went shopping.

ME!

I WENT SHOPPING!

Although you might laugh at my idea of shopping… Keep in mind that I am a stereotypical Virgo!

I got stuff to make me more beautiful for the wedding:

• Crest tooth whitening strips (I want to have a glam smile for the wedding!)
• Olay Complete all day moisture lotion with SPF 15 (for my face of course)
• Make-up wedges for applying foundation or even applying the Olay
• Plum red nail polish, lip liner and lip stick (okay I dunno if I’ll wear that colour on our wedding day or not, but I like it now and want to start wearing nail polish again! I haven’t been in the habit of wearing nail polish since my gender dysphoria hit in 2002!!!)
• SPF 45 (to keep my lovely pale look, don’t want any sunburn or tan lines for the wedding!)

I would love to get some new clothes and shoes, too, but that’s quite a bit more money than I currently have.

This evening, I’m going to see my friends and their baby again, to prep for what all needs to happen tomorrow when I sit for them.

And then I hope to have a nice, relaxing evening with my man!

By yesterday late afternoon, I was feeling better. The bleeding had also subsided. I tried getting some work done on the astrology business. I didn’t eat very well yesterday because I didn’t have much of an appetite.

When my man got home around 7:30pm, I hemmed and hawed for half an hour on what to have for dinner.

Finally I settled on waffles and eggs, as it would be something simple. I’d read that eggs are bad for the liver, so I’d vastly reduced my intake of eggs since January upon finding out that my liver enzymes are high. But last night I had two eggs for dinner with two gluten-free waffles, a slice of deli cut ham, and a slice of yogurt cheese. This was around 8:15pm.

I was in good spirits and working on my web business. My man decided around 10:00pm to go to the gym, and left for a bit.

As I was sitting at my computer working, I felt a sudden gush. George had returned. It was around 10:45pm.
I stood up and filled a pad and ran to the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, I felt suddenly nauseous, and then I could feel the uterine pain ramping up.

I downed 1mg of Dilaudid and went back to the computer room, but it was too late - the pain ramped up that suddenly, and now I was doubtful the Dilaudid would kick in in time, no matter how much I took.

I got down on the floor and tried to do my breathing and acupressure exercises, but the pain was too intense too quickly, and I began to shake. I decided I should put myself in bed, but I was disoriented from the pain, and couldn’t find my heating pad. I opened the door to the bedroom and it was very cold in there. All my energy was expended at that point, so I laid down on the bedroom floor, on my back, and tried to continue the breathing. But it was no use. The pain was SO bad.

I began to cry. And then the crying turned to convulsive sobbing.

I crawled back into the computer room and got my cell phone and fumbled, trying to press the right combination of buttons to reach my man. The phone rang, and then…

I heard a buzzing noise on my man’s desk.

It was his phone.

He’d left it behind.

There was no way I could reach him at that moment. I don’t have the number to the gym and didn’t have the energy to look it up and call him.

So I crawled back to the bedroom and laid on my back on the floor and sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed.

My man came home within 15 minutes of that and rushed to my side when he heard my sobs. I was near hyperventilation at that point. He gave me the time I needed, which took about ten minutes, to get up off the floor and get shoes on. We went out the door and he drove me to the hospital.

The hospital in our town is usually empty.

Last night, there were at least seven people in the waiting room, and I don’t know how many more in back. I wanted to turn around already. I had a bad feeling about going in. I stood up out of the car and filled my pad.

But the last time this level of sudden pain happened, I was told I MUST go to E.R. IMMEDIATELY.
So we went in. I was sobbing at the check-in window and nobody was there for several minutes. When a lady did arrive, she took her time gathering data. Then they told me to go back into the waiting room. As soon as I stood up, I filled my pad again, and this time passed the clot that had caused me so much pain.

I sat down at the nearest chair - back in front of the check-in window. The pain subsided a bit, and I was EXTREMELY tired. I told my man we should probably go back home, that since the episode had passed, there was nothing E.R. could do for me now.

Then the lady behind the glass told us to move so she could talk to other patients. I slowly stood up, annoyed, and gushed into my pad a third time. This time, it overflowed. I decided that since I was still bleeding so badly, I should probably stay. My man led me over to an empty chair in the waiting room, and I slowly sat down. The pain was returning, I told him.

We waited for another 7 or so minutes, and then the check-in nurse told me to come back into the E.R.
I took one look at how far it was to cross the room, and told her I’d no strength to do it.
She fetched a wheelchair and wheeled me back into E.R., where I was given a room with a bathroom and a box of hospital-issue maxi pads that looked like they’d never been updated style-wise or comfort-wise since the 1940’s.

I was given a gown and told to take off my pants and told to report any clots to the doctor. The nurse said she’d get me a cup to do a urine sample.
I went into the bathroom and mustered all the strength I could to take off my shoes and pants. The clot still hadn’t officially come out until I went to the bathroom. What to do with the clot? The doctor needed to know and maybe see it, right? So I didn’t flush.
I put my used fabric pad away into my pocket, put the new unweildy not-wide-enough pad into my underwear, and shuffled back into the room and slowly climbed up onto the gurney.

There, we waited. And waited. And waited.

And waited. And waited.

I kept telling my man I wanted to go home, that the pain was over and the clot had passed, and that I was REALLY tired and wanted to go home. I was also very thirsty but couldn’t find further strength to voice it.

Finally, my man went to the nurse station and told them they’d forgotten to give me a cup for urine sample. They gave him a cup, which he gave to me. I went back into the bathroom and had to navigate the pad that kept wanting to fall out of my pants - no way to secure it in and it didn’t have adhesive bottom or even a button fastener like modern-day pads SHOULD.

I got the urine sample, tried to set the cup down…

and spilled the contents.

I picked up the cup before it all spilled out, and slowly tried to mop the floor as best I could. Ugh. I should have called for help. WTF.

I put the sample cup back into its bag and set it on the countertop.

And we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Just as I was about to leave, a doctor and her assistant came in hurriedly and apologetically and told me they needed to do a pelvic exam and get me started on medication. I told them the pain and bleeding had already passed, they were too late, I wanted to go home.

The doctor insisted on a pelvic exam. I didn’t have enough strength to protest further. My man was ushered out of the room and she told me to take down my underwear and spread eagle. I ordered her to shut the fucking door to the room - I wouldn’t have her do this exam with just a curtain drawn and the open door facing all the rest of the patients in ER, WTF.
She mostly closed the door and proceeded with the exam. I was very tender and whined and moaned. Then she said she’d need to use the speculum. I did my breathing exercises but started to panic - I told her I was already in enough pain and didn’t want that. She tried to insert the speculum but it wouldn’t go without stinging pain. I cried out. She stopped and tried again. I cried out again “IT HURTS!”
She and the nurse assistant told me to hold the nurse assistant’s hand and to breathe. She tried a third time to get the speculum in and again I had stinging searing pain with the forced object.

AND THEN

OH MY FUCKING GOD

THE DOCTOR TRIED STIMULATING MY CLITORIS to loosen me up to get the speculum in. I cried out louder and put my legs together and began sobbing, and she stopped.

She told me the bleeding had mostly stopped anyway, so she’d not continue with the exam. I told her the bleeding would come back NOW that she’d forced shit into me.

I sat up and

GUSH

and the pain started to come back. And I was crying and shaking and pale again.

My man came back into the room and I hugged him around his waist and said, “They hurt me.”
He came down to eye level with me and the look on his face of utter rage and helplessness - that’s when I realised just how wrong it all was, and that were I in better strength and mindset, I’d have kicked those bitches’ asses for what just happened.

So I tried to chin up, gather strength out of nowhere, and get the fuck out of there. I told my man I’d had enough and we were going home. It was after 1am at this point.

As I was getting dressed, the doctor’s assistant came back in with several vials for drawing blood, and an IV for administering fluids. I told her NO. She said she’d check with the doctor.
The doctor came back after a few minutes and told me passive-aggressively that she just needed to check my hemoglobin and see if I was anemic and dehydrated so she could see if a transfusion and fluids were necessary.

I told her LOOK AT ME. OF COURSE I’M DEHYDRATED AND ANEMIC. I JUST LOST ALL THAT BLOOD TONIGHT AND YOU WERE TOO LATE.

I lectured her at this point. I wasn’t yelling. I sounded more whiney than anything, but I tried to be stern, and I told her how badly she and the hospital had failed me. I told her exactly what happens when I’m passing a clot, and that the purpose of coming to the hospital is to get injected medication ASAP to HALT THE PAIN, but all they did was dick me around and throw me into a room and let me sit and pass the clot alone in all that pain, when I could have done that on my own at home without the cost of the hospital bill and doctor’s bill.
I told her the pelvic exam HURT and that she should NEVER DO THAT AGAIN.

She started saying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I swear, I’m sorry…”

But to me, sorry isn’t good enough. WTF did she go to medical school for? Did she LEARN anything? She’s incompetent.

They’re all incompetent.

Nobody can help me.

I signed off on the “release against doctor’s orders” forms and I slowly staggered out of the E.R. with my man at my side. He took me to the drugstore so we could get me some Pedialite for the dehydration - the hospital NEVER ONCE gave me ANY WATER during the THREE HOURS we were there.

I came home and started gushing again - another clot passed. This time, the pain was moderate instead of severe. I took 1mg Dilaudid and went to bed.

I woke up this morning with the most searing headache and jaw ache ever. I think I grinded my teeth all night from the stress, even though I’d gone to bed listening to the relaxation tapes my friend loaned me. The headache was so bad that I began crying first thing in the morning as my man was getting ready for work. He called work and told them he may not come in today. I made an appointment with the local GYN I’ve been seeing (I’ve long since stopped seeing the GYN who did my surgery because after hormonal suppression failed to work, and I had my first episode of collapsing from the pain since surgery, she pretty much gave up on me).

The GYN I wanted to see today wasn’t available, so they assigned me to another and was told to come in at 10am.
Then they called back a few minutes later and told me that GYN had just got called into surgery. So they rebooked me for tomorrow at 3pm.

I took 1mg Dilaudid and my man warmed up my rice heating pad and got me a glass of Pedialite. I put the heating pad over my head and listened to the relaxation tape, and tried to make the pain go away.

When I woke up at 11am, I still had a headache, but it wasn’t as bad.

I’ve spent the last hour and a half typing up this entry, with frequent breaks because of the headache. I’ve had a bowl of cereal and have been sipping more pedialite. My eyes have officially had it from the light and well they’re still all puffy from all the crying last night.

I’m going back to bed. George just started bleeding again, but it seems mild at the moment. I’ve had no further cramps since about 2am.

When I’m strong again, I’m writing a letter to the hospital and refusing to pay any bills they send to me.

I refused to take another Dilaudid pill yesterday after my last journal entry. I successfully distracted myself via computer and talking with my cousin on the phone, and the Ibu eventually set in and the pain subsided.

This morning was fine for me, aside from waking up from a bad dream. I had no pain, so I went and deposited my 2nd to last unemployment check, and picked up some groceries. Well, the guy who packed the groceries put all the heavies into one bag! So I had to rearrange stuff between the two bags. That was my downfall, I think - carrying groceries to the car and from the car to the house. Not long after I got home, the pain and bleeding ramped up again. I did the whole routine again for an hour and a half - only take the 600mg Ibuprofen… and just do the exercises and Qigong.

I conceded defeat around 1:15pm and popped 1mg Dilaudid. It’s just now kicking in and the pain is fading.

In my dream this morning, I was with my man and it was morning time before work. We were both running late for work, but stopped at a bakery. I got a palm-sized cake for one made entirely of frosting because I can’t have gluten. I was really excited about being so naughty with all that sugar. It tasted so good!

We got out into the parking lot and a guy we cut out of our lives six years ago drove up in some sporty car and offered us a ride to work. B got into the front seat and I got into the back seat. The guy’s wallet was atop a black bag in the floor of the back seat, with his wallet open and a huge wad of money showing. As soon as I saw this, my first thought was, “That asshole. As soon as we get out of his car, he’s going to accuse us of stealing his money and start a huge war again.” That’s the kind of asshole this guy is in real life.
So before we even got out of the parking lot, I told him to stop, and that my car was right over there, in the back corner of the lot, and I’d just drive myself to work. My man turned around and said, “are you sure?” and I told him yes. I’m sure, and I got out of the car.

I started towards my car, but this is where the dream gets fuzzy. Next thing I know, I’m carrying a skateboard and it’s my only transportation to work, and I’m late. I take out my cell phone and with phone in left hand, skateboard in right, I dial using my left thumb. I can’t reach my workplace - the reception is bad (the reception is ALWAYS bad in my dreams).

So I started skating off on my board, and was embarrassed by how bad I was on the skateboard? Where’s my car? I’m too old for a skateboard!
But seeing as how I had a skateboard, I may as well skate it, and skate it well. So in that regard, I altered my dream and was able to skate WELL from that point on. I did this by looking back at my board in my hand again, and seeing that the front truck was misaligned. That’s why I was skating badly. Not because I didn’t know how. So I did my best to adjust the truck and the wheels by hand, since I didn’t have any tools on me, and put the board back down and took off skating.

I skated for minutes, and realised I had gone the wrong way. I was now in San Francisco, near the DNA Lounge. Only, the DNA Lounge had a huge parking lot, then a restaurant and another parking lot, and then a forest off in front of it, instead of more urban landscape. I went to skate towards the DNA but realised the parking lot had just been repaved, so now I’m screwing up my board with the slick oily crap they’ve just applied to the lot. I grab my board and wipe the wheels off on my clothes, not thinking. Now I’m late for work AND filthy. I keep walking towards the DNA, on a little hill of grass alongside the parking lot, and make my way onto a sidewalk. I keep thinking I need to call work to tell them screw it, I won’t be in today, but I’m afraid of getting in trouble.

I get to the front of the DNA Lounge to see that it’s closed. What was I thinking? It’s daytime, of course it’s closed! So I turn back around and walk towards the way I came. This time, the parking lot is dry, so I throw the board down and skate across the empty lot with ease. The pavement is so nice and smooth now that it’s been paved. I glide effortlessly and with speed.
I get to the other side, which has an embankment of grass separating the one lot from the restaurant’s lot, and I jump off my board onto the embankment. My board catches up to me and hits the embankment and flies up, and I catch it and continue walking.

There’s a trail in front of or alongside of the restaurant, and it is lined with pine and oak trees. There’s pine needles on the worn dirt path. I walk the path because I know my car is parked in a clearing in the field behind the restaurant.

As I am walking up the path, I see three young men - perhaps late teens, early twenties. I approach them but they’re standing in the way, so I say excuse me and keep walking, and brush past them. As I do so, I realise that I’ve just walked into a drug deal. I still have my phone in my left hand, and I’m still trying to dial my workplace but I haven’t been able to get through, yet.

Ok, ok, don’t panic, keep walking, I don’t care, they can do and deal drugs, not my business or my problem. But I know THEY never think that way about people who walk in on their business.

So I’m walking and I hear footsteps behind me. I can still hear two of the other guys in the distance, still on the trail, talking. I pick up my pace, and so does the person behind me. I turn my head and it’s one of the guys from the path, and his pace quickens until he’s right up on my ass, almost next to me. I tell him with an irritated voice that he can go around, there’s plenty of space, and he’s in MY space, and to back off. He doesn’t say a word.
I then spin around and clock him with my board and scream at him to leave me the fuck alone, I just want to get to my car.

This of course pisses him off, and I run for my car. He runs at me, and now his friends are running up at me, too. I look down at my phone, still in my left hand, and try to dial my man for help as I also try to get into my car. I get my car door open as the guys all pile in on me. I try to WILL the phone to dial my man, and I scream at the guys WHAT DO YOU WANT! I’M JUST TRYING TO GET TO MY FUCKING CAR!

They say bluntly that they want to kill me, and the dream ends with me trying to close my car door and not being able to.

I woke up and bolted from bed, looking for my man. He’d not left for work yet, so I gave him a big hug and told him about the dream.

Now, the contents of the dream…. I had a skateboard because I just took one of those Internet quizzes - “how girly are you” - and I scored 8% girly. The icon had a girl with a skateboard. Add that to the fact that in real life as a teenager, I had a skateboard made of parts from my brother’s and his friends’ skateboards, and we had a halfpipe in the back yard, so I did a little bit of skating in my day. Not much, but still. And so this entered my dream because of the quiz I’d taken recently.

The cake and frosting is because we’re starting to look at bakers for our wedding cake.

The fear of being late for work is because of my real life fears of having to go back to work, and of fearing that I’ll not get my assigned stuff done on time for my online business.

The guy who we don’t talk to anymore - no idea why HE was in my dream, but he can get the fuck out.

I’m also not sure about the parking lot, the DNA Lounge or the guys trying to kill me, as well as the field and dirt path… Let’s look it up in a dream dictionary:

Dirty
To dream that your body or your clothes are dirty, might indicate an illness - you should get a medical checkup. If you dream of being in dirty or messy surroundings, it is a positive omen meaning whatever is worrying you will soon come to an orderly conclusion.

Path
If you dream of walking down a quiet path, you have patience and a clear mind. If your path is blocked in a dream, you need to take more time to think about the consequences of recent actions.

Parking Lot
To dream that you are in parking lot suggests you need to slow down and take some time to relax.

Trees
Lush green trees in your dreams symbolize new hopes, growth and desires.

Forest
Dreams that feature forests signify exploring the unconscious mind for clues to waking problems.

Drugs
-A dream of giving or selling drugs suggests that you have some dishonesty around you - rethink who your current friends are.
-If your dream featured someone else who possessed drugs or took drugs, it is telling you to stop drifting and take a more positive role in your life.

Violence
Intense violence in dreams usually suggests a need for control and a fear of losing power in a real life situation.

Attack
If you dream that you attack someone, your ill-mood and temper may cause harm to another. You feel that you have been wronged in real life. To dream that you are being attacked by someone suggests that you are feeling stressed, vulnerable and helpless, or facing difficult changes, in real life.

Late
To dream that you are late for something represents your fear of change and your nervousness about seizing an opportunity. You may feel unready or unworthy in your current circumstances. You may also be conflicted with decisions about your future.

Skateboarding
To dream that you are skateboarding, indicates the ups and downs of some emotional situation or relationship. If you zip along with no crashes in your dream, it means you have the strength and energy to achieve your goals in life.

Junk Food
If you see or eat junk food in your dream, this symbolizes your overindulgent behavior.

Phone
If you can’t reach someone on the phone in a dream, you must listen to your inner voice more closely for your life to move on the way it should.

Cake
If you dream of eating cake, you will have success in an upcoming endeavor.

Yeah, that about sums it all up for me. I’m afraid to give up control of trying to get my web business running by having to go back to work for someone else. I don’t want to go back to work but for me to ultimately become successful, I need to let this happen. I can go back to work part time and still work on my business. I will become successful. I just need to stop dicking around and get more disciplined.
I can do this. My brother did it. He can do it, I can do it.

George arrived one day early, on Friday. I had almost skipped out of going to the gym, because I felt so crappy in the morning, like george would be here any second. But I went to the gym, and had a good workout in the pool.

Later that afternoon is when george arrived. I had very little pain that day, despite onset of bleeding, and marveled happily at the lack of pain.

On Saturday (yesterday), I was still feeling ok (only minor pain), so we drove to Soquel (near Santa Cruz) to shop for rings (I still don’t have mine, yet). I popped an Ibuprofen 600 to ensure the mild pain wouldn’t worsen. We ran into a big traffic jam on the way there, and nearly turned back but then it cleared after half an hour, so we pressed on.

It was in the 80’s yesterday, and we hated having to get out of the car and walk around in the heat.
We had no luck in finding my ring. In fact, the very place we went down there for didn’t have any rings at all - a miscommunication that my man received from a dealer at the antique fair we attended last Sunday. Grrrrr.
So we just went to several antique stores in the area and perused rings. I had no luck finding one that really spoke to me. And then after the third or fourth store, I started to feel REALLY tired, and then the pain and bleeding ramped up.

I did my breathing exercises, and that helped. But it was just so uncomfortably hot. I wanted to go home. I braved it through a couple more stores, and was told to try another antique dealer in town. We got there and the store was closed that day. On a Saturday!!! WTF!

Frustrated, I declared myself DONE with the day.

So we started back home, and before long got stuck in another traffic jam. This one was THEE MOTHER of traffic jams yesterday, because someone DIED and they shut the freeway down. We were at complete stop or rolling 5MPH for nearly two hours, inching towards the scene of the accident. They opened the road but only enough to squeak by on the shoulder, and we got to see the tarp covering the body still in the road. Talk about sobering experience.

The news story on that accident is here, with some of the story as to what happened to cause the accident here.

When we got home, I made myself some dinner and took another Ibuprofen 600. I could have taken an Ibuprofen before we got home, but I was being stubborn, because we had no food with us, and I hate taking the Ibu on a less-than-full stomach. We hadn’t anticipated being stuck in traffic, and I hadn’t realised I’d forgotten to pack a protein bar. I’d been really good at having a protein bar on me at all times, and was confused as to why one wasn’t in my bag. Bleh. As dinner was cooking, I did some Qigong and continued the breathing exercises.

Anyway, after dinner I popped the Ibu and went to bed before 11pm if I recall correctly. I was just wiped out from enduring moderate pain and bleeding for most of teh afternoon into the evening. I didn’t do any Qigong, yoga or accupressure exercises before bed.

Heavy bleeding and pain woke me up at 7:30am this morning. I ate some cereal and spent an hour doing Qigong, yoga and accupressure while waiting for the Ibuprofen to kick in. I then went back to bed around 8:30am and didn’t get up til about 11am.

The pain returned again, with bleeding and pain both entering SEVERE mode, by 1:30pm. I went through the routine again; Qigong, yoga and accupressure while waiting for the Ibuprofen to kick in. This time, no dice. After an hour, I gave up, conceded defeat, and took my first Dilaudid pill since george began two days ago.

I only took 1mg, and that staved off the pain for a few hours. I’ve now spent the past hour repeating the process again… Qigong, yoga and accupressure… and always with the breathing… to no avail. I’m going to take another Dilaudid pill as soon as I finish this diary entry.

I am proud that I avoided taking the Dilaudid for as long as possible. I am going to get better at these exercises and the pain will be staved off even longer, and eventually suppressed altogether. I can do this.

My 2nd round of bloodwork for the liver enzymes is on Wednesday. I am hoping that my liver enzymes are back to normal. It will be one less thing to worry about.

Now I wonder if yesterday’s ragey moment was not due to PMS, but instead due to autoimmune (allergic) reaction.

Every month when I PMS, I get food cravings. Some foods are on my “WILL KILL YOU” list, but I violate that rule once a month for some foods. One of those is “Natural” Cheetos.

Every month, I feel a little queasy whenever I imbibe on the Cheetos. But I looooooove them. I waaaaaaaaaant them. I must has them!

Well, in the midst of working at my biz, and the PMS food cravings, and in full on denial, I didn’t take time to notice the effect that the Cheetos are having on me.

Well, since last night’s episode, I’ve been re-reading all the labels of the food I have in the house before consuming it. So it was with Cheetos today. It doesn’t have MSG like regular Cheetos does, but it does have lactic acid. So that’s three things in one day that I consumed yesterday that has lactic acid: the Cheetos, the deli ham, and the alfredo sauce.

The Cheetos also have something called Torula Yeast.

Yeast.

My body gives a GI reaction with yeast.

I started noming on the Cheetos and played around on the Internet.

TMI WARNING

Within 20 minutes, I had to go to the bathroom - I had immediacy. I had urge. NOW.
Full GI reaction, complete with flushed face and nausea during excretion.

Goddammit.

Why didn’t I notice this before?

Oh yeah. Denial for my precious Cheetos.

*sigh*

Since I’ve been snacking on Cheetos for the past week, it’s highly likely that this is what’s contributed to my forehead and temples breaking out in zits, to my thumb breaking out so bad that it’s bleeding, and to my irritable near-explody episode yesterday.
As I type, my face is now itchy and my thumb is itching again, too.

And I’m feeling irritable again. I can feel raginess welling up.

Ride it out, …ride it out…. lesson finally learned… it’s okay… we move on…

Here are some links to peruse:

Many “natural” foods contain questionable taste additives like yeast extract - by Mike Adams

Hidden Sources of Gluten - from an autism site

Where is MSG Hidden? - truthinlabeling.org

Hidden Sources of MSG - truthinlabeling.org