The Other Melissa McCarthy: Recap

Showing posts with label Recap. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Post #99

It all began in September 2010 when I was taking a journalism class and one of our assignments was to create and maintain a blog for the semester. As it so happened, I took a "sabbatical" that semester and did not finish the class. I did, however, keep the blog. At that time, I called it The Seventh Year Senior. Once I finished school, it didn't seem appropriate to keep it and instead of starting yet another blog (I have several), I just changed the name and kept rolling. I'm somewhat disappointed that I haven't been a more regular blogger because I thoroughly enjoy it. With 48 months of blogging, I should have done a little better than averaging two posts each month. I won't beat myself up considering I spent most of last year working diligently on a memoir.

This, my friends, is post #99 on the blog. I think it's only appropriate we celebrate by taking a look back at previous blog entries. At least that's kind of what I did for you. Here are some things I found amusing enough to share again. Enjoy!

50 Melissa-isms from the Blog

I should be proud of myself for coming this far. Unfortunately, my arms are too short to pat my own back. With a quick flick of my leg, I can kick my own ass, though.

I’ve never had an autopsy done, but I assume the Y-cut would be much less painful than the drive from Wausau to La Crosse for the first day of my senior year of college.

It was difficult, but I have successfully completed a full week of attending every class. That doesn't necessarily mean that I was present, but my body sat in the chairs, my head nodded occasionally, and my notebooks were opened making it appear like I gave a hoot.

I even speed sometimes. Just not to class.

I want to wear my pajamas all day and skip showers, skip meals, and drink coffee until I'm practically a peeing coffee pot.

I have the sleeping schedule of an infant, the patience of a toddler, the acne of a teenager, the wrists of a retired interpreter, and the memory of an Alzheimer's patient.

I called my chiropractor and apparently they don't do attitude adjustments.

I had to learn to pick and choose what to put my entire heart into and what to completely blow off.

I don't do anything half-assed. School skipping was certainly no exception.

Before the super duper senior can become nice and cozy in the pajamas that won't be removed for a month, the recliner needs to be positioned perfectly.

So, as I was sitting in the admissions office I was looking out the window staring at a cemetery. Life is short. Or, long. Depending on how much of it you've spent applying to colleges and collecting credits.

For some reason, this thought makes me happier than a fly on a shit pile.

We started the day off with cartoons and juice. I believe we watched Penguins of Madagascar. That has to be one of my favorite cartoons right now. A few episodes of Spongebob followed and I was ready to throw a pineapple at the television. So, we shut it off and played with Play Doh.

Seven years of college and I can't figure out how to use Shannon & Mark's coffee pot. I am going to go give it another try, or else today is just not going to be pretty.

It's not that I have been sitting on my ass-ignments doing nothing.

I did not forget to brush my teeth this morning. I simply chose not to. Toothpaste and coffee don't mix. My apologies to anyone who comes into contact with me today.

Well, I must leave now to go tour an animal research facility. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself. I will behave myself.

On another positive note, I signed the lease for my new apartment. I haven't seen it yet. I'm picturing dark paneling on the walls and orange shag carpet. Picture the worst and be surprised. That's my motto.

Seven years of college and I have finally narrowed down my "what I want to be when I grow up" list to three pages. (Front & back, single spaced!)

I don't get it. You go to school and bust your ass to get educated and to reward you, they dress you up in a cardboard hat and a curtain.

It took me about 45 minutes to decided whether it was Tuesday or Wednesday today. And then I realized that it doesn't matter.

As part of my sit-on-my-ass fest yesterday, I looked at job openings.

I'm feeling like a puppy that just left obedience school and has forgotten everything it learned. That's right, I'm going to pee on the carpet... chew on every pair of shoes I come across... beg for treats... and when I run outside, I'm not going to come back until I'm good and ready to come back!

America is about to lose Oprah, tornadoes have swept across the country, the new bachelorette gets her heartbroken early in the game, soap operas are going off the air, Lance Armstrong is accused of being one of those medically-enhanced athletes, gas prices are still keeping America driving instead of biking because we can't risk declining trends in obesity, and the only glimmer of hope we can cling to is that THE PACKERS ARE STILL THE SUPERBOWL CHAMPS!!!!

Okay, so I have accomplished a lot in my 29 years. Once I got a hang of that potty-training stuff, I was pretty much unstoppable.

I'm used laying around doing nothing and I'm actually pretty good at it. I'm also really good at napping, even though it never used to be something I enjoyed. Now, all I have to do is pretend I'm in a lecture, and I'm out like a bear in winter!

They say to prep you should read newspapers like The New York

Times. That shit is boring. I read the Onion and Facebook status updates. Tell me I'm not ready for grad school!

In the meantime, I should probably get myself a cup of coffee and a copy of the New York Times. If I get a puppy, it will need something to piss on.

AND. . . I am $15.37 richer today thanks to all the people that have digitally downloaded my music over these last two years. I think I'll put it toward my next CD. With only about $1,984.63 more to go, I should be able to put something special together by the time I'm 102.

Tomorrow will my mark my 30th year in this world. How cool is that? I've been watching friends and former classmates turn 30 for the last few months and completely understand why entering this next decade of our lives is somewhat terrifying. Growing older is a scary thing. So is the idea of Ben & Jerry's discontinuing Chunky Monkey or Half Baked, so it's important to keep things in perspective: Aging Is Not That Bad.

One day last week, I drove to three different McDonald's restaurants at 5 AM trying to hunt down an iced mocha. Seriously, why are they cleaning their McCafe machines in the morning? Luckily, the third time was the charm.

When I'm not doing all of that, I'm mentally swearing at the heat and humidity that has embraced us this summer and gaining incredible amounts of muscle mass at Anytime Fitness. I just never realized how squishy muscle was, which makes me wonder if I'm doing it wrong.

Actually, 2013 is going to be a fantastic year. After seventeen (long) months of sending out resumes, cover letters, and filling out countless applications (over 200), I finally landed a career in my field.

When I look at my blogger tracker thing, almost 90% of my traffic on this blog comes to my blog post about going to the ER to have stitches removed.

Within a minute or two, the nurse came around the corner.
"Are you Melissa?" She asked.
"Yes." I said.
"Nope -- it's not the actress!!!" She said loudly to let the other nurse know.

Within ten seconds, my eye was twitching and started spewing water, the clamp was pushing everything upward, and the doctor thought I was crying. It was a beautiful moment that needed a camera crew. No, not really. It was awful.

Sat with my phone up to my ear for five minutes while in a daze. Thought I was dialing someone, but finally looked at it and my e-mail was open instead. And then I tried to swipe my debit card through the pen holder at the post office today. TWICE!

My eyes were crusted shut this morning and I sound like I've been a pack-a-day smoker for 20 years! It would be in everyone's best interest not to comment on my hair today.

First things first, I don't have a dog. My friends do, so I wasn't just some strange creeper with a camera that showed up at the dog park on a random Saturday afternoon. Although, it is probably much more acceptable to be dog-less at a dog park than child-less at a playground. People call the cops on that sort of thing.

The socially awkward of this group was without a doubt... Wookie. I don't even think Wookie knows whether he is a dog or a donkey. If I had my way, Wookie would forever wear a pink tutu and I'd change his name to Grace.

Just another day in the life. . . when I get those normal test results back, we'll go celebrate. And by "go celebrate" I mean we'll just leave our pajamas on and take a nap until I qualify for assisted living, a nursing home, or cooler space in the morgue.

Hopefully Santa's elves are good at making these [glucose test strips] because he'll have to sell Rudolph to pay for a pack of 25. They aren't cheap. Nor are they something someone would open on Christmas morning and be so excited that they leave a yellow puddle of joy behind. Except for Melissa. She'd do that.

You should not get someone test strips for their blood sugar without stuffing their compression stockings FULL of Kit Kats. Christmas isn't Christmas until someone's blood sugar is 450 and they are passed out on the couch with A Christmas Story playing in the background.

If you can, give yourself a hose-down before you go seek medical treatment.
And, yes, I wear granny panties, but I prefer to call them either granny undies or granny grundies because "panties" is my third least favorite word in the world.

There are certainly things I like to keep private, so I put those things on my blog because I know no one reads it. The rest goes on Facebook.

"My bladder is ginormous" never lets me down in a bar. And I've been in three bars this year.

As much as I'd hate to die before the age of 137, I have accepted that it could happen.

Test drive a car before you buy it. Apparently, this is common sense to some people.

I like to spend quiet time with myself. Googling more junk to pack in the trunk of my cerebral cortex.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

13 Life Lessons from 2013

With over 1,000 friends on Facebook, I always have an enjoyable time browsing through my news feed. One trend stood out yesterday: I was not the only one who had a rough 2013. Some went as far as to say that it was the worst year ever. While I will not deny that last year (and thank the Lord I can now refer to it as "last year") presented many challenges, looking at the big picture, it was actually a great year.

January 1st, 2013, I woke up with a strain of the flu that my vaccine wasn't prepared for and spent two weeks in a fetal position. I was oblivious to the fact that this was setting the tone for the year. Every month of the entire year, I had to deal with some sort of medical issue. But, when I wasn't dealing with my health, I had some fun. Actually, even when I was dealing with my health, I had some fun.

If I presented myself as a glass half-empty kind of gal, I would have slapped myself with a "Hello, my name is Eeyore" name tag and have concluded that the year went to shit with the flu. That's not how I roll, though. With 31 years under my belt, I have learned a few things along the way that helped me tackle this year like a champ, or a She-Hulk, or whatever. Point is, I made it through the year and can look back on it knowing I'm a pretty tough cookie. And, I like cookies, so I'd much rather be a Cookie Monster than an Eeyore. Unfortunately, I've been an eyesore Cookie Monster this year, but that brings me right into . . .

13 Life Lessons from 2013

#1) You will never regret the shower you force yourself to take before you go into the ER!

In the unthinkable event that the doctor utters those most dreaded words I'm going to admit you, odds are -- you're pretty sick. When I was first admitted, for the first 24 hours I wasn't allowed to get up without assistance. One of my CNAs was a very lovely young man, but not someone I would have wanted giving me a shower. If you can, give yourself a hose-down before you go seek medical treatment.

#2) Humility should be embraced. If you don't embrace it, laugh at yourself, and profess to the entire world that you wear granny panties, there's no way you'll make it through life.

That one doesn't need any explanation. And, yes, I wear granny panties, but I prefer to call them either granny undies or granny grundies because "panties" is my third least favorite word in the world.

#3) Put it all out there on Facebook. Just don't put it ALL out there on Facebook.

There are certainly things I like to keep private, so I put those things on my blog because I know no one reads it. The rest goes on Facebook. Completely unfiltered. Last year, I remember posting a Facebook status about not receiving comments on things. You see, some folks become very perturbed when their photos and status updates do not receive comments. I am not this way. Over the course of my Facebook addiction, I have realized that the statuses and photos I EXPECT to be a huge Facebook sensation are often completely ignored, while stupid things like, ugh, I need a nap! tend to flood my notifications. That said, whenever something is neglected on Facebook, I have decided that, yep, I have left them speechless. Also, when you put everything on Facebook, it provides talking points for your friends and family and opens up discussions. When you put it all out there, it creates fewer questions when you see people in person. Sometimes. Well, like once it did.

I should clarify that when I say to Put it all out there on Facebook, I don't mean your lame ass drama or what you had for dinner. Unless for dinner you won a corn dog eating contest, that is. Or, your stove was broke, so you ate your Ramen noodles right out of the package. You can "put it all out there" without being tacky, making yourself look like an ass - unless that's what you're going for, or just being stupid.

#4) NEVER pass up an opportunity to spend time with a child. Unless you don't like kids and won't have a positive interaction with them, or you are a pedophile. Then, by all means, stay away from children.

"A child laughs and average of 300 times each day. An average adult: 17 times."

If anyone has kept count of how many times I've said, "Uhh, I feel so elderly" within the last year, I would like to know. I bet it's about equivalent to the number of needles I've had in me (189, but who's counting?). Spending time with children keeps me young at heart, and lately, I'll take whatever I can get to feel young. Some of the best laughs I had last year have come from the funny things they say. I can honestly say that I am probably not an "average" adult because I laugh a lot. Even when I was in the hospital, I found things to laugh at. But I still need to laugh more, so that's why I hang out with children.

#5) Hug People! Just ask for permission if you don't know them.

I used to hate hugging. I thought it was stupid. I am pretty sure that after I got out of the hospital the first time, I wanted to hug everyone I saw. It was actually kind of weird. As I learned more about what I was hospitalized with, I realized how serious it was. And scary. So, I gave a lot of hugs after that. And, usually, as I was hugging people I would say, "I ALMOST DIED!!!" (Even though, no, I didn't almost die. But I could have. That was the point there.) So, go hug someone.

#6) When you start writing a book and that's all you do for months, but then wake up on your deathbed and decide to stop working on your book, you should start back up again at some point, but be flexible with the completion date and avoid run-on sentences in the book. Or not. It's my book and I'll do what I want.

The book is going to come back out of hibernation. And, boy, have I lived some stories that will add quite a few chapters.

#7) BE ASSERTIVE!!!

I'm still working on this, especially when it comes to my healthcare that I have been receiving. I'll get there. Eventually.

#8) I have the patience of a saint and an impressive bladder size.
These are not really life lessons. These are things I've been told this year. The lesson in this is -- patience is something people respect in a person. It has been one great trait to have at work. And, the lesson in having an impressive bladder size... well, enjoy it because it is not going to be that way forever. And, it's a great conversation starter. "My bladder is ginormous" never lets me down in a bar. And I've been in three bars this year.

#9) Test drive a car before you buy it.

Apparently, this is common sense to some people. But not everyone. I do like my car. I love the gas mileage it gets. I like the fact that I can see over the dashboard without a problem. The CD player is a piece of junk, though. BUT, it does have the AUX input for my phone, so I can FF through all 635 songs all the way to work and back. It doesn't handle the greatest in this winter weather, though. It has already needed a new battery. I'm going to have to replace the brakes pretty soon. I'm willing to bet it needs new tires. I thought the guys at the dealership treated me pretty poorly. That was until I met three ER doctors, two internal medicine doctors, and an endocrinologist. The dealership dudes treated me like a princess.

#10) You are NEVER too sick to play spider solitaire. Or, Ninja Kid Run, but I didn't just admit that I play that. Okay, yes I do. And I'm NEVER too sick to play it.

True story.

#11) Death and dying really isn't all that scary. It's all that unfinished business that is the scary part.

So, I finished Breaking Bad as fast as I could. It was kind of a race to see who would live longer: Me or Mr. White. The more loved ones I see go before me, the more I realize how scary death isn't. There have been plenty of opportunities for me this year to think about passing on. As much as I'd hate to die before the age of 137, I have accepted that it could happen. There were days last year when I probably would not have minded that big white light shining down, Grandma Jean, Grandma Judy, and Grandpa Tom coming down to introduce me to John Denver and Patsy Cline, but that obviously didn't happen. (Well, it did, but I woke up with IV bag number 6 rocking steady.) And that's good it was just a dream because I feel like I still have some things I'd like to accomplish. BUT, if it happens, it happens. Shannon and Mark know I don't want a big fancy funeral and I'm okay with a cardboard casket. Let the kids color it with Sharpies and decorate it with stickers, then take them to Disneyland with my life insurance money. Since I seem to be on the upswing and have some time and engery, perhaps I should design the t-shirts I would like them to wear to Disney?

#12) Limit the diet Coke and Kit Kats.

Yes, I am down 30 or 40 pounds from a year ago at this time, but I am working on that. Some muscle building needs to happen this year and it is going to suck. I get sore from walking around at work and I've learned to accept body aches as a new standard of living. Hopefully getting my vitamin D levels back to normal will help that, but I do realize I need to cut back on the diet Coke. I've switched to the small cans and have cut down considerably since my first hospitalization, but it really does help with my chronic fatigue I have going on. Still, I know an addiction when I see one, so I'm going to be replacing some of my diet Coke with cigarettes and beer.

Just kidding. About the cigarettes.

#13) Melissa does not need to visit Moka every morning on the way to work.

That's all I want to say about that. It's still a bit of a sensitive subject.

Happy New Year!!!

May 2014 be filled with many more lessons, fewer hospital bills, acceptable Vitamin D levels, increased muscle mass, some more music gigs, and ... if those children I hang out with have their way... a lot of dating! (I'm not quite sold on that last one, but you gotta make the children happy!)

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

"What's going on with you?" Part II

If you're friends with me on Facebook or glanced at my last post of status updates from 2013, you probably noticed that I have been sick quite frequently this year. In fact, this last hospital admission my mom called and said, "Could you please let us know what's going on before you post it on Facebook." Well, Mom... more Americans get their news from Facebook than any other news source. Not only that, my cell phone only has Internet service in the ER, so what else am I supposed to do to entertain myself?

Speaking of the Emergency Room, I have spent more than 14 hours there this year so far. Although I do not have an exact count (yet), including the blood glucose testing, I have had well over 100 needles in me since January. I've gone through 14 bags of IV fluids, three bottles of Ibuprofen, missed over 142 hours of work, and I don't even want to know how many days of 2013 I have spent in bed or on the couch.

With so many clinic, Urgent Care, and ER visits, you would think that I would have an answer to the what's going on with you question by now. Unfortunately, I don't know what is going on with me, but I do know what is not going on.

Back in August, I reluctantly hobbled into the ER believing that I was not sick enough to be there. I expected to be triaged to Urgent Care and sent home with, "You're fine and a waste of our time." When I sat down, the RN took my blood pressure and it was 146/92 with a heart rate of 95. My blood pressure is always between 110/70 to 120/80, so I was fairly surprised when she slapped the ID band on my arm and sent me to the ER.

I spent close to four hours in the ER hooked up to monitors as they pushed IV fluids through me. My heart rate was going back and forth between 70 and 140 and my blood pressure was going up and down just as fast. In the time I spent in the ER that day, I talked to a resident, an ER physician, and the physician that took over my care when I was admitted to the hospital. All three of these medical professionals interrogated me on my history of an eating disorder, my eating habits, my body image, and all three made it clear they didn't believe me when I told them I was no longer anorexic or bulimic.
Throughout the 37 hours I was hospitalized, I was encouraged to eat because that would make everything all better. At discharge, I was given a summary of my hospitalization. I had metabolic acidosis and severe dehydration listed on the sheet and was scheduled to follow up with my primary physician the following week.

I left the hospital around 10:00 that morning and ended up back in the ER at 3:30 that afternoon because my chest felt like it was being crushed every time I exhaled. The next ER physician I saw was obviously in a hurry to leave for the day. Without a very thorough exam, he decided it was "something musculoskeletal" and most likely caused from being down in bed for so long. And he left for the day. The RN was lucky enough to reach him in his vehicle so he could phone in a prescription for the pain and a muscle relaxer.

I've had issues with this same thing occasionally since then, but chest x-rays and the one EKG they did on a separate ER visit came back normal, so for goodness sake, just eat something Melissa and this will all get better.

At my follow up with my doctor, I asked how in the world I could have had metabolic acidosis. She never mentioned an eating disorder specifically, but did ask if I felt I needed to see a therapist. I laughed and without hesitating said no. I explained that my life is a great place. I love my job, I was diligently writing a book, and had no reason to see a therapist. I thought that was ridiculous, but blew it off. Well, I blew it off until I logged into my MyCare account to view my follow-up lab results. I happened to navigate into my hospitalization summary. The ER physicians that admitted me to the hospital neglected to put on my discharge summary that in addition to dehydration and metabolic acidosis, they also re-diagnosed me with anorexia.

I sent a message to my doctor stating how inaccurate this was. I had an eating disorder for 14 years and this is NOT the same thing. When you have an eating disorder label on your medical record, I have learned that there is no such thing as unintentional weight loss. No matter what other symptoms I have had, losing 50 pounds in a year is an automatic "Congratulations, you have relapsed! Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Go directly back to treatment. And, for goodness sake... eat something and this will all go away!"

For two months now I have been trying to explain myself to countless physicians, friends, and family. After all, people with a history of any type of mental illness are liars, right? Obviously, I lie about my eating habits. Never mind that my blood sugar has been as low as 43 and as high as 256. Never mind my blood pressure has been as high as 174/107. For goodness sake, eat something and this will go away.

I landed back in the hospital on Sunday with the same symptoms as back in August. Again, the eating disorder was mentioned. How much are you eating? When are you eating? Are you drinking enough water? I went through close to 200 ounces of fluids at one point and still ended up in the ER needing two bags of IV fluids. Again, that eating disorder label is on my medical record, so I'm a liar. Therefore, no. I'm not drinking enough. I'm not even sick, actually.

Here I am, two months later and struggling to not lose anymore weight. I'm keeping detailed food records again, but making sure to add in everything else that is going on. The abrupt changes in heart rate, blood pressure, and blood glucose, my lack of energy, headaches, and a bunch of other crazy things that can only be fixed by eating something. Well, that's what they say, but I've been eating what I can, when I can, and this isn't all better, yet.

In this crazy process, we have discovered that I do not have an adrenal gland tumor, I don't have diabetes, and my thyroid is functioning properly. I've been referred to an Endocrinologist, I have another post-hospitalization follow up with my physician next week, and, because they still think this is anorexia, they set me up with a consultation with a nutritionist.

This last year, I have heard so many patients tell me their stories of how they are treated (or mistreated, I should say) by health care providers. When I had to shadow an ER social worker for my position a few months ago, I witnessed it first-hand. I have experienced it myself. I can't go into the doctor for an ear infection without being asked, "Are you eating enough?"

So, no. I don't know what is going on with me. Here is what is NOT going on. I am not obsessed with my weight. When I look in the mirror, I don't see myself as needing to drop a few more pounds. In fact, the morning I went into the ER this last time, I stood in just a bra and underwear and was disgusted. I have been at this weight before and the last time I was this size, I was sick. But, it was a very different kind of sick. What I see in the mirror right now is not distorted. I know how bad I look, how bad I feel, and know that there is something going on that simply "eating something" isn't fixing. I've lost a tremendous amount of muscle and miss my quality of life.

I started writing a memoir about my eating disorder last year. I haven't touched it since this all began in August because I started fearing the doctors might be right and the book was triggering me into a relapse. Well, I know that is not the case. The longer this goes on, the more annoyed I become. My goal with this book was to tackle this stigma that is tied to mental illness, but it is becoming much more than that now. I've heard way too many stories of people going through the same thing and being "labeled" and it's not right. I certainly had plenty of material to work with before this all started and did not need another section to add to the book, so my deadline has been extended. When this is all over with and I'm back to playing music gigs and not drowning in my clothes, I'm going to be a force to be reckoned with.

Pages

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Before I actually write the blog entry about the status of my health, I decided to recap the year I have had using Facebook statuses and posts from this year. Part II to follow...

TheMelissa McCarthy shared a link.