In which I have far too many encounters with urine and disaster

I had the weirdest day, y’all, and I swear I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I’d been meaning to take a pregnancy test today, to make sure I wasn’t harboring an alien (or, less likely, a fetus).

So there I am, half awake, peeing in a cup.

I realize too late, I don’t have a pregnancy test. Crap. It’s supposed to be the first urine of the day.

So I did the logical thing. It was to early for me to actually be awake, so I cleaned the bottom of the cup, and hid it behind some shampoo in the cabinet. Fingers crossed I won’t forget where I hid my pee.

I stumble downstairs in the dark, and curl up again with my husband.

Phone rings. Never a good sound to wake up to, right? Turns out it’s my boss, and they need me to open the store due to high traffic.

I mumble some semi coherent thing about bras into the phone, and roll out of bed.

At this point, my husband is already getting dressed, and had made his way up to the bathroom. All I could think was “Crap. Don’t find my pee.”

Rushing around the house to get ready, I then did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed a mason jar, and made a beeline for the bathroom.

“Hey babe? Can I come in and …grab something?”

He mumbled something like a yes, so I take it as permission to barge in.

He’s sitting there on the toilet, only half awake. Perfect. He won’t notice if I grab the pee.

Slight flaw in my plan. The cabinet is above his head. Despite doing my best sneaky actions, he did, in fact, with his extremely honed skills, notice that I was tiptoing and reaching over his head. In retrospect, I should have expected that one.

“…What’s that?” He asks, as I try to hide a red Solo cup behind my boob.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just pee.”

“Why are you making tea in the bathroom cabinet?”

I grinned, pouring it into the mason jar and tightening the lid, giving him a dismissive wave as I sauntered from the room. “No, no, not tea. Pee. Urine, darling.”

No other words, just that, and me and my jar of pee headed to work. Without, of course, my phone. Because I’m an idiot, and I’ve no way to reassure my husband that I have not, in fact, gone insane. Great.

Open the store. Finish my shift. Take pregnancy tests, by dipping them in the mason jar. Faint line. Great. So I head to the emergency room to get a blood test, and that was only horrifically anxiety enducing. Saw the three doctors who never remember me, frequently read tests incorrectly, and enjoy telling me that all my issues are from my weight.

Long story short, not pregnant.

I finally get home. This day has taken forever, and I swear it’s not even noon. Kill me. I say hi to my mom and flop into bed.

But, as anxiety often does, it had wildly different plans. So of course, in order to stave off a panic attack, I rearranged all the furniture. Two of the three cats made it their personal mission to attempt to kill me as many times as possible, as I moved the heaviest pieces. As cats are wont to do.

When my husband gets home, he finds me in a ball on the floor, tiredly asking the cats to stop trying to eat my sewing needles.

Cats don’t take kindly to direction, and tried harder to spite me. Rude.

As the chaotic mess of all of our possessions and cats began to sort themselves out, as one by one items got put away, I guess the cats decided it was too clean?

Ollie, the black and white furball from hell, somehow remembered that we have cat treats somewhere in the room. Apparently in cat logic land, this means it’s totally acceptable and even encouraged to destory everything that is not a treat.

And holy hell, he is too good at that task.

Things are flying off shelves, drawers are being opened by his overly skilled khajiit paws. He’s training the kitten to do the same, and in short moments almost my whole days work is ruined.

But a miracle. Just like that, the calm in the storm. The cats were asleep.

I went upstairs to pee, fooled by this ruise, foolish troll that I am.

I didn’t even make it to the bathroom, when everyone in the house heard the sound of glass smashing.

Ollie.

We run downstairs, to find that he had not only jumped into a cabinet taller than me, but he’s shoved the jar of treats down onto the ground, where all three cats now stood amid the shards of glass, sniffing at the treats.

I shrieked, and grabbed the cats up in my arms, tossing one to my husband. Barefoot. In the glass.

Hey, at least we get to test our new vacuum.

After a freaking half hour we got the glass cleaned and let the cats back downstairs. They purr innocently, knowing if they are cute enough we will forgive them of all wrongs.

But here’s the thing, folks. When I am this stressed, and this anxious, I forget to do things. Eat, drink. Breathe properly. It’s rare that it gets this bad. But one of the things I forgot to do, was pee.

I hadn’t peed since very early that morning.

And that’s when it happened. Ollie knocked over something I had just carefully organized.

I let loose a rather blood curdling yell, before having one of my seizures that no doctor fully understands. It fades quickly, and I turn away from my poor husband (who honestly deserves so much better oh my gosh) to glare at the cat.

I had been unknowingly clenching to keep from peeing. But in my rage, and the silent battle of wills between my cat and myself, I forgot to clench.

I got so angry that I actually peed a little

“Shit.” I hissed under my breath.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” So loving and concerned.

“I got too angry.” I squeaked, barely audible.

He almost fell over laughing right then and there. “Rowan, what?”

“You don’t understand. I’m so angry I can like, hear fucking color.”

Its so obvious how he is barely holding himself together. “What is it doing? Do you see green, and…it just starts yelling “Green! Green! I’m green!”?”

Being the mature adult I am, i stomped my foot. “Yes!!”

He burst out in a cackle, unable to contain it anymore, and literally fell to the floor, shaking with laughter.

Suffice it to say, I’m lucky my husband puts up with all my crap.

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Nothing is always Something

Tonight, I went to clean and apply a new bandage to my hickman catheter. It was then I noticed several strange objects inside the line itself. They looked like a sort of gelatinous milky white mass. This is the first time I had ever seen something like this in two years of having this port. I had absolutely no idea what it could have been, the only thing that had gone in my port for going on two months now was saline. So of course, I did the logical thing. I went to the hospital. I am somewhere between utterly enraged and highly amused. Hopefully this story comes off as amusing, because thats why I’m writing it.

We (my father and I) arrive at the hospital near 11:30pm. Thankfully it was quiet so I was admitted as soon as we walked in.

The admitting nurse was highly confused. He shrugged and sent me through to a room.

The ER nurse, a very kind woman who seemed to enjoy my snarkcasm, was highly confused. “Only saline has gone in? What on earth could it be? Saline doesn’t leave deposits!”  (Note to the confused, snarkcasm is my word for the fabulous mixture of sarcasm and snark that frequents my conversation.)

Very true, nurse. Very true. She then informed me that I was lucky. Tonight, my doctor would be a man who was both ER doctor and surgeon. A surgeon. Oh joy.

After quickly inspecting my line, she left to fetch the doctor. We will call him Dr. Bigfoot. Why? Because his 11’oclock shadow covered nearly his entire face. (Normally I’m not superficial and wouldn’t make rude comments, but I’m not overly fond of this man.)

Now, Dr. Bigfoot inspected my line. He squeezed it. He poked it. He hummed and harrumphed. And then began one of the most annoying conversations I’ve ever had.

“Just saline has gone in? There shouldn’t be anything there then, saline doesn’t leave deposits.” He harrumphed as he continued to poke at the line.

“Yes, I know. That’s why its strange.” I was still smiling at this point, foolishly hopeful.

“Its not on the outside of the line?” He queered, while still poking at the line and the object that was clearly not on the outside.

“No. Inside. Weird, huh?” I laughed. Apparently, laughter annoys the bigfoot.

“I’m not entirely sure that something is there.”

“What do you mean? You can see the objects.” All four of us could see the objects. The nurse looked confused. We all were.

“The only thing that’s gone in the line for two months is saline?”

“…Yes.” Oh my god

“Saline doesn’t leave anything. There shouldn’t be anything in the line.”

“…And yet there is.” My smile had now become forced.

“I’m not sure. Perhaps it’s an air pocket.”

“It’s not an air pocket.” ITS NOT AN AIR POCKET

“It might be an air pocket.”

“I…it’s…but…” KILL ME NOW

“Let’s pull it, and see.” He waves me off and goes to get a nurse. The nurse came back in and attached a syringe to attempt to pull blood out and flush the objects out. The nurse saw the objects. The nurse knew they were not air pockets. She seemed a bit apologetic as she and I tried to get blood flow. My port doesn’t actually like allowing blood output, and usually I have to bend literally upside down and backwards for anything to come out. This time, nothing at all came out. It did however, pull saline that was in the rest of the line up through it.

And before our eyes, the saline dissolved the strange objects.

Dr. Bigfoot came back in. “How did the pulling go?”

“Well, no blood came out, but the objects are gone.”

And this is where it gets good.

“Objects?” He repeated, as if this were new information. He started his poking and harrumphing again. “Only saline has gone in? You’re sure?”

“Yes. For two months now.” God where are you going with this

“So there shouldn’t be anything in the line. Nothing is in the line.”

“W…what? It dissolved in the saline, its not there anymore but-”

“I’m not sure there ever was anything. If there was, it was an air pocket.”

“It definitely was not an air pocket. This here, that’s a tiny air pocket. Those were not, they looked gelatinous.” I hate hospitals, I hate surgeons, I hate you oh my god

“It’s irrelevant. Nothing is there.”

“But there was. You spent nearly half an hour poking and prodding at them.”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so. Saline doesn’t leave deposits. Only saline has gone in, yes?”

“I know saline doesn’t leave deposits.”

“So you agree, there was nothing in the line. It was just air pockets.”

“No. I’ve had this port two years, I’ve seen air pockets and I’ve never seen this before. These were not air pockets. Its irrelevant now because the saline dissolved them, but it wasn’t an air pocket.”

“I don’t know. It’s odd. I thought it was an air pocket. But there’s nothing there. So it was nothing. I’ll get your discharge papers now.”

And with that, he left. In the car on the way home, I called my boyfriend to rant. I was utterly enraged. I recounted all this to him, and then began to rant even more. “Apparently, it was nothing. He is convinced. I bet he would have a bag of M&Ms, and tell someone he isn’t sure there are any. He would eat twenty and say ‘Well, maybe there really isn’t anything there after all.’ He would continue doing so until there was only the bag left, and say ‘See? Nothing there after all. I told you.’ He would take a child’s puppy and assure them the puppy never existed! If I die, you know who’s fault it was.”

It was then my father chimed in, laughing his head off. “You won’t die. Nothing can’t kill you, after all. It was nothing.” I’d begun to laugh so hard I was crying, and so had my father. He was yelling that I had to stop talking or he would laugh so hard he would crap his pants or get in a crash. I was pissed though, so I didn’t stop talking.

“Right, right, it was nothing. Of course it was nothing. Oh, oh, and did I mention, his whole face was a beard. No Dad, that’s not an overstatement. You know that part of your eye, the little patch of skin in the corner? BEARD HAIR! Oh my god, my surgeon was fucking bigfoot! I thought Cape Cod hospital was bad, but at least they managed to hire Sasquatch. Falmouth was stuck with bigfoot. But no, I’ll be fine. Half blind bigfoot is sure it was nothing, so I’ll be fine! I’m gonna die. I’m so angry.”

My dad, still laughing and tearing up, chimed in “You can’t really blame him. Your whole life and medical history is just a giant cloud of confusion, nothings, and uncertainties. But this time, it apparently really was…” He burst out laughing again and it took him a moment to finish. “…Nothing.”

Just remember folks, don’t let a mythical creature give you medical advice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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A DIY – Your fingernail’s new best friend

First – Let me just say, this is NOT a promotion. This is something I made myself and have found to actually be very helpful.

My nails have always been kind of horrid at the whole behaving thing. They are weak and flimsy and have a tendency to break and peel. Usually, as soon as I get my nails to a length I like, one or several peel and snap far too short. Sometimes resulting in blood.

At the moment, my nails are this long-12695484_1253898957958226_1613467189_o

And somewhat miraculously have been so for almost two weeks and still are growing.

Three things I have found to help very very much.

1- Stop pushing back your cuticles as far as possible. I used to push mine at least once a week if not more, using lotions and cutting what I thought was excess off. This should be a once a month thing using an orange stick, and do not cut them.

2 – If you get a tiny nick in your nail, file it. Otherwise it will get caught on something and get worse. If you want long nails, do not procrastinate on this.

3 – The third thing, and the most helpful thing for me is a moisturizing (and apparently strengthening) concoction I mixed up when I got bored. Honestly, you could ignore the other two things on this list if you use this.

It has only three ingredients!

Coconut oil    – Vitamin E oil –   Tea tree oil

Easy, right? It is! I like to mix up a good sized bit and keep it in a small glass cup. It sits along with several q-tips on the table next to my couch, so I apply it while I’m watching TV and don’t have to worry about holding still because I more or less am anyway.

Use equal(ish) parts coconut oil and vitamin E oil. I think I generally put more coconut oil. As for the tea tree oil, put 4-6 drops. I use six, but if you are sensitive to strong smells you will want to use less. Then, using a Q-tip, apply it to the whole of your nail bed. I do it once a day (not counting when I forget….). You can also apply it to the underside of your nail.

Great plus side? It also works as a moisturizer for your cuticles AND the tea tree oil protects from getting infection if you can’t help yourself from cutting your cuticles. What? You need another plus to find it worth it? Well, good thing I have one then. It heals hang nails crazy well.

I hope it works well for you! Comment and tell me your experience after a few days. And I’d love to hear if you have a better DIY for this!

 

 

 

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Old books and Raspberry tea

I’m sure if you are fond of tea, you have already discovered that the smell of earl grey tea is the perfect combination with the heavenly scent of old books. (Speaking of Earl Grey tea, Timothy’s tea is a great brand for dark teas, though I’ve only been able to find it at Christmas Tree shop in a sampler pack with many many other kinds.) But a combination I’ve recently found is thanks to an adorable British tea shop somewhere in Connecticut, is raspberry tea and old books.

Now, I’ve only ever found two raspberry teas that I have enjoyed. Most are too sweet or too artificial tasting so you can imagine my amazement when I found some that were not only pleasant but amazing. One of these teas is Timothy’s Raspberry tea. I had found it in that same 94 tea bag gift set and sampler I spoke of a moment ago. It’s twenty-ish dollars on Amazon, but I generally find it for eight at Christmas Tree. I highly suggest going to Christmas Tree shop. My darling friend managed to find Timothy’s tea book a few years back, though I have no idea where she found it, it had a great mix of their tea as well. I’m honestly not sure why it’s so difficult to find, as it is rather amazing.

The other Raspberry tea, which is by far my favorite, is The Republic of Tea’s Raspberry Rose Hibiscus. That’s the one I found at the tea shop, and am thrilled that I did. I usually add a little bit of sugar to herbal teas to bring out the flavor, but with this one I don’t find I need to. (Sometimes I do anyway.) The only con to this tea, is that it’s rather expensive.  Okay, not that expensive but as a jobless nineteen year old twenty five dollars seems a lot. But then again, it’s still cheaper than Teavana.

Speaking of old books and earl grey, Demeter carries perfumes of both that are highly accurate. I wear the Paperback Book almost daily. 
Paperback book     

Earl Grey Tea

 

 

 

 

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Ignoring the intimidation from my own mind

The first post. An oddly intimidating endeavor.  Do you know that feeling when you get a new journal? The beautiful cover, the smell of new paper, and the crisp white of those new pages. An excitement builds as you press the tip of your pen to the page. The line of the ink forming letters on the otherwise entirely blank page. And then …..oh crap. In the excitement of starting a new journal, being so focused on the perfection that it was, that the perfection is a bit ruined.

That’s kind of the intimidation that I’m feeling right now, with this first blog post. Of course, not everyone might have had an experience quite like that. I realize my obsession with blank notebooks might be abnormal. That, and not everyone is as clumsy as I am, so the pen spitting ink might not have happened either.

I have only ever made one first blog post before. March 18th 2009. I was twelve (Probably. It’s midnight and math is not my strong suit) and I had written blog entree instead of blog entry. Admittedly, not one of my proudest moments.  A lot in my life has changed since then. That in and of itself seems obvious. Who’s life hasn’t changed between being twelve and nineteen? But I have managed to fight an illness, and God willing in February, the worst will be over. At some point, when I find the inclination I will add a page about the illness. But I don’t want to write about it here. I spent too much of my life dwelling on it, because it was all I had. No more. This blog, will be about me and my opinions however strange and random they might be.

So….There you have it. My first post. Perhaps a disaster, just an ink splatter on the page. I’m not sure if this post will be all I had intended. An insight into me, and what this blog will be. But at least the blog is no longer blank. And that’s really all that matters. Coming up with something, be it “Once upon a time” or “In the beginning” or a slightly rambling post, to start with.

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