Living with Chronic Pain...

Hurting all the time fucking sucks.

Doctors brushing off my concern about my pain as "you just need to lose weight" sucks even more.

I'm not in pain because of my weight. I'm overweight because of my pain.

6 years ago, before the car accident, I was quite a few lbs lighter. I was healthy. I was able to go hiking and cook dinner and just walk around without wanting to lie down and die. Nowadays, I can barely stand for more than 20 minutes without my left leg feeling like it's on fire.

For a while, I went to the doctor and said "look, my back is killing me..." and they'd send me home with muscle relaxers, narcotic pain killers, and anti-inflammatory meds (or any combination of the three). Nothing really worked. It would "take the edge off" for a couple hours, then I'd be back to being in pain.

When I switched doctors, the first thing I mentioned was that I thought I had sciatica. She looked me up and down, and said: "A weight loss of as little as 10% could really help with the pain," I scoffed, because I weighed nearly 40% less than I do, now, when the pain started, but I humored her. I started forcing myself to walk more. I took the dog to the park, I rode my bike, I went hiking. Two weeks into the exercise regiment, I was in the ER with pain so severe that I couldn't stand. They drugged me up and sent me home.

My doctor insisted that I keep up the exercise, even though it actually made the pain worse, and added specific Sciatic Pain relieving stretches to the mix. I did that the stretches for nearly six months, with the pain getting progressively worse, every day...

Eventually, I stopped mentioning the pain, or even going to the doctor for it. I've gotten the same thing from every doc I've visited: "Lose weight, and you'll feel better. Do these stretches, and you'll feel better. Take this muscle relaxer, and you'll feel better."

I did all that. I don't feel better. If anything, I feel worse.

I go through my days, gritting my teeth, and biting back my complaints, because I know nothing will be done about it. I can whine, all day, and nothing will help. So, I take the maximum daily dosage of OTC pain meds, I drink alcohol, and when I can get my hands on them, I swallow narcotic pain killers like candy. I only ever get a couple hours of relief at a time, but for those few hours, I feel like I'm in heaven. Living pain-free is truly amazing!

I've never been X-rayed, I've never had an MRI. Nobody has taken my complaints seriously enough to say "alright, let's get some diagnosis done on you"...

They just see an overweight, 30-something, who is looking for pain pills, again. I gave up trying to get a referral to an Osteopath out of my primary doctor. I've taken matters into my own hands, and am working on making an appointment, myself... I'm sure it'll be a waste of time, but I cannot take this pain anymore. I can't do anything without hurting. I can't play with my nieces and nephews; I can't even cook dinner. I can barely walk to the car...

Me being in pain has NOTHING TO DO WITH ME BEING OVERWEIGHT!

Feminism

I'm going to start this by saying that I do not hate men. I love men, actually. Men are my sexuality. I'm a cisgendered, heterosexual woman, and I love men. I'm a white woman, and I love men. I'm a "submissive", and I absolutely love men. There...now that I've pandered to the fragile male ego, and we're crystal clear about where I stand with my opinion of men, I have an announcement to make:

I am a feminist.

I want equal pay for equal work.
I want men to look at housework as their responsibility, too.
I want men to take an active approach to childcare.
I want women to be able to enjoy guns, or cars, or video games, without being told they're only doing it for attention.
I want men to be able to cry when they're upset, without being told they're acting like a woman, and not have that be the worst possible insult you can throw at them.

Mostly, though, I want every little girl, across the world to be able to hold her head up high, and walk proudly, without fear of getting ridiculed, or raped, or murdered. I want every child to have an equal opportunity to grow and learn and become successful adults. I want little girls to be able to grow up, and marry the man she falls in love with. I want little boys to be able to make friends with girls without any stigma attached to it. I want little boys to be able to wear pink. I want little girls to be interested in science.

I want men and women to be equal.

Period.

I'm tired of seeing thin men, and overweight men, and short men, and tall men, all end up with a woman of the same body-type, while women who aren't thin are left in the cold, because we're disgusting.

I'm tired of seeing women in bikinis, or less, selling hamburgers, or cars, or ice cream. I'm tired of women's bodies being cut off at the head, and used as beer bottles...as objects.

I'm tired of seeing women being portrayed as objects.

I'm tired of men in media being considered "sexy" if he's tall and muscular, but at best "funny" if he's overweight. I'm tired of men being forced into the role of "protector and provider" in magazine ads, and car commercials, and movies.

It's about time we saw men and women as what we are: multi-faceted, complex, emotional, strong, weak, and most of all...human.

We're all the same species, and we have so much potential to go so far, in science, technology, the arts, anything we set our mind to...but we can't do that when half of the world's population is being forced out of the workforce, because they were sold to be married, and they're not allowed to attend university. We're not going to make it through this crazy world with only half of us toeing the line. It's time for everybody to stand up and pull their weight. It's time for us to start working as a team.

There's so much untapped potential, trapped in the minds of women who never got the chance at a higher education, because she was pressured into getting married young, so she could have more children; in men who were forced to take a job at a young age, because he was expected to support his new wife, instead of going to college, and following his dreams.

The world we live now is biased, and it's unfair for both sides. It doesn't have to be that way, though. We can all stand up and fight for equality. We can stand up and let our voices be heard.

The problem is, it's not happening. There are too many men pushing back at the Feminist Movement, because they're afraid of...well, what are you afraid of? I've seen a lot of "anti-feminists" say things like, "well i won't date you, if you're a feminist" and "you're oppressing my penis!"...really? Is that how little you think of the women around you? Do you honestly believe, in this day and age, that a woman's only goal is to get married? Do you honestly thing we're only here to have sex with you?

If that's the case, then you're part of the problem.

Women deserve the same respect and peace of mind you have. Have you ever been shushed in a board meeting, in favor of your coworker's opinion? Have you ever clutched tighter to your purse as you walked through a crowd? Have you ever been in fear for your very life as you walk home in the dark, alone? If you're a man, probably not. Women have. Every woman has had a moment in her life when she was mocked or made fun of, or threatened, simply because of her gender. That's it. Not because she's rude, or an unpleasant person, or because she went looking for a fight...just because she's a woman.

If you're a woman, and you've gone your entire life without ever feeling uncomfortable in the presence of men, or because of a commercial, or even a statement made by another woman regarding your life choices; if you've never been told that your skirt is too short, or your top is too tight, or your body hair is disgusting; if you've never felt pressured to wear makeup, or high heels, or have sex; if you always feel safe, appreciated, and loved; if you make the same amount of money as a man in your exact position, with your exact training, then I congratulate you. You're part of a very small group. Don't you wish every woman on the planet felt that same sense of security, of self, of accomplishment and pride? If yes, then you need feminism. If not, then...I feel sorry for you, and I wish you had been given the gift of empathy, as a child.

Lucy: Movie Review

I’ve read quite a few reviews of this movie, and most of them are negative. I don’t understand it. Perhaps, those naysayers are simply too pretentious and caught up in their own ideals of what makes good entertainment to give anything which doesn’t fall into their concrete guidelines a chance…or maybe they’re just angry that a woman got so much screen time? Eh, who knows. 

Frankly, I don’t care. 

I loved the movie, and here’s why: It offers a unique perspective. There have been several “explore the possibilities of the mind” movies, in the past decade or so, and most of them are, predictably, entertaining. People are utterly fascinated by, and completely ignorant of, the human mind. Why do we think? Why do we dream? How are memories stored? These are all questions that nobody really has an answer to. (Except one: 42) There are several theories, though.

I watched Inception when it came out, and I rolled my eyes at the end. It’s meant to make you think, I guess, and my significant other thought. I didn’t. The ending was predicable, as most Hollywood “blockbusters” are. Limit was an ok movie, in the same genre, and it entertained. I didn’t walk out of the theater thinking that my mind had just been blown, however. 

(Spoilers after the break. This is a movie review, so there is going to be discussion about plot-lines and characters.)

Lucy blew my damn mind. Not because of the method in which Scar-Jo’s character attained her “100%” because that’s been done, but with the way she handled it. There was no lust for power, no desire for riches or fame, no drive to explore the world. No. The almost first thing she did was call her mother…

She was lost, and she needed answers, so she sought those answers from a leading Neuro-Scientist, “Professor Norman” (played by freaking Morgan Freeman, everybody! Woo!). She contacts him and asks what she should do. He tells her, “Share your knowledge.”

So, she does. The entire movie is a race against the clock: Lucy’s ultimate demise, the Drug Lord and his goons who are chasing her, Time itself. Her goal is to meet Professor Norman, and share what she knows. She gets there, and picks up a “reminder” along the way.

There’s action, and death, and drug use. The brief kiss could have been left out, but I believe it was put there for a reason, all the same…not sure it’s a good reason, but hey. I’m not the writer, here; Luc Besson is. And that guy! He can tell as story. The Fifth Element, Transporter, Leon: The Professional, From Paris with Love, Colombiana… 

So much awesome under Mr. Besson’s belt. He is genuinely one of my favorite story-tellers, so perhaps I went in to this movie with an already biased idea of how good it was going to be…or maybe it’s just a freaking awesome movie!

This isn’t what I would call an edge-of-your-seat thriller, but it’s still thrilling. All-in-all, I have to give it 8/10 stars, or whichever method of measurement you’d like. It’s a good movie. It’s worth the ticket price. It’s worth the 89 minutes of screen-time. The ending is …ugh! But, it’s still worth it!

Go see it. If you like Science Fiction…real, true, unrealistic, Science Fiction…you’ll love this movie! If you’re looking for spaceships and explosions and half-naked women, and gratuitous romance, you won’t. 

Seeker

I've read and heard so many people in the medical field refer to those who are in pain as "seekers". There's a profile that goes along with the title: someone who visits emergency rooms for minor injuries, including toothaches...or those who visit the emergency room often. Of course, the latter has a different title: Frequent Flyer. Medical staff look down upon these people, the seekers and frequent flyers, with disdain; cursing them for taking the doctors away from "real" illnesses.

Yeah...if that doesn't speak to the failure of the American medical "system" I don't know what does.

Where to begin? I suppose the beginning will do, eh?

I was 14, when I first noticed the ineptitude of the medical professionals in my area. I had never been to a doctor before, save for getting vaccines. This time, my mother decided that what ailed me was out of her territory, and took me in to see the professionals. I was having severe abdominal cramping. The nurse looked at me, looked at the word "endometriosis" that I had written on my hand, in health class, decided that I was faking it, and sent me home.

My mother was furious. The pain kept up for another week, getting so bad that I collapsed in the living room, and my mother took me back to the ER. They poked and prodded, and asked questions, but they never took blood tests...they never gave me an ultrasound, or did any real diagnostics. They treated me with a prescription for Tylenol and cold/warm compresses.

I wasn't insured. So, instead of taking every possible precaution, the doctors did the bare minimum to keep costs down. I didn't understand it, then, but I do now.

The pain was caused by ovarian cysts. Cysts that, had they been diagnosed 14 years ago, would have been taken care of with little-to-no side effects. Now, I am all but infertile. It took nearly 10 years before I had decent medical coverage of my own, so I avoided hospitals and doctors like the plague. I collapsed, again, at my boyfriend's house, and he took me in, despite my protests. They did an ultrasound, immediately, and gave me excellent pain killers...and I got a diagnosis: Ovarian Cysts. And a treatment. I'm cyst-free, as of 4 years later...I'm also uninsured, again.

I can't go to a regular doctor's office, because nobody takes uninsured patients. I am forced, when I need even minor care, to seek Emergency medical attention. I've been to the ER a dozen times in the last 2 years, and I'm starting to notice the looks I get when I walk in. Disdain. Irritation. Annoyance.

Most recently, I broke a tooth. It's been about 6 months of managing the pain, with over-the-counter meds, and trying to keep the hole clear of debris to minimize the risk of infection. I'm at a breaking point, however, in that I can no longer manage the pain. I reach my daily limit of pain meds, everyday, before bedtime, and have to suffer as I'm trying to fall asleep. I can't eat. I can barely speak, but there's nothing I can do, because I'm unemployed, and uninsured, and with the way the medical system in this country is set up, I would have to fork out nearly $1,000 to get the tooth pulled. I can go to the ER and maybe get narcotic pain killers, but they can't pull the tooth. Dentists won't take payments so, short of pulling the thing myself, there's really nothing I can do.

America cares more about money than it does the health of its citizens.

Maybe I'm just biased, but that doesn't seem right.

So, despite being in pain, and despite having a legitimate medical complaint, I am looked down upon when I enter the Emergency Department, looking for pain management. I'm thought of as a Seeker, a drug addict, a pill-popper, because I have done all that I can, and have gotten nowhere...because I need help. I avoid going to the ER, more than once every 3 months, because I don't want to be labeled as a Frequent Flyer...I avoid medical care, because I don't want to be looked down upon, or thought less of....

Due to the unprofessional acts of nurses and techs, I'd rather suffer than be labeled.

All because I don't have insurance.

All because I'm unemployed.

It's bullshit.

Family

My mother, Margaret, passed away on May 28, 2014. She and my father, Edwin, who passed away June 20, 2003, raised me as their own, from my 3rd birthday, until I turned 19, and left the nest...and beyond. I started calling them Mom and Dad when I was in first grade, because I wanted to be more like the other kids at school. Everybody had Moms and Dads, not Grandmas and Grandpas, raising them. My father's eyes misted over when I called him Dad, the first time, and I haven't stopped, since.

Dad taught me how to fix roofs, how to grow the perfect Roses, how to stick up for myself, and when to walk away. I was Daddy's Girl. We played catch in the yard. We worked on the cars. He let me shift the gears in our little red truck. He was my father; he truly adopted me. 

Mom stayed at home with me. She taught me how to read and write. She taught me how to cook, and clean. She taught me when to be playful, and when to be serious. She taught me class, and when to bow out gracefully. She gave me the skills I needed to become a successful woman.

They taught me that blood does not mean family.

These two people gave up their retirement, their "easy years," to raise another child. They had already raised five, they didn't have to take me in, but they did, because I was family. Family was important to them. Who knows how my life would have ended up, if I hadn't been taken in by them.

My childhood, my teen and young adult years have been negated... The fact that my mother raised me, fed me, gave me a home when I would have ended up in foster care, or worse. None of that matters, any more. Because of one person's selfish need to be validated, my mother became not my mother in the span of one memorial service. My father became not my father, in that same time. I lost the only family I've ever known, because one person needed to feel important, better, justified...whatever it was.

During my mother's memorial, her children were asked to stand. her three sons, her daughter...but not me. Because of one person's selfishness, my name wasn't read.

Never mind the fact that she's the only mother I've ever known, and she earned the title of Mom. Never mind the fact that she would be as angry and upset as I am, to have the last 28 years erased, at the snap of a finger.

Nobody spoke up.

Nobody corrected.

I walked away, after the memorial service. A scene would have been justified; yelling would have been right. I could have deepened that person's grief. I could have corrected everyone's misconception of my parentage, but I didn't. I simply walked away.

Because my father taught me when I should walk away, and my mother taught me to be the bigger person.

Fandoms

God, seriously...where do I start?

The most irritating thing to me is when a Fandom starts acting like their way of experiencing what they like is the only way. This happens a lot in the novel-to-movie, or comic book-to-movie genre. It's disgusting, and irritating, and I can't stand people who act superior to anybody, especially those who like the same things that they like.

There was a time, in our childhood, that we would see somebody with a tshirt, or lunchbox, of our fandom and suddenly be best friends with them. Now, it's all questions and useless trivia and hate.

"Have you even read  the book?"

Well, no, but-

"Then you're not a real fan!"

Um...I kinda am, actually. I love-

"How can you say that you love it, when you know nothing about it?"

Because I know myself...? Why are you such a snob?

"I'm not a snob! I'm a REAL FAN!"

...

And, on it goes...

It's un-fucking-believable that there are people in any fandom that act like that, but they're everywhere. Along with the "Quizzers" are the "Spoilers". I have carry an avid hatred for people who try to ruin somebody's fun. These are the Game of Thrones people, the Divergent people, the ones who purposely post on social media about major plot points, and spoil the ending.

What's the point of that? Do you feel superior, now that you've ruined somebody's chance of enjoying the same fucking thing that you enjoy?

Does it make you feel tough, or smart?

Fuck. Off.

I read the Lord of the Rings series, and The Hobbit, when I was in middle school. When the LotR movies came out, I didn't spoil anything. I watched the movies, and my friends' reactions to the things I knew were about to happen. It's an amazing thing, watching somebody experience something for the first time. It's like experiencing it, for yourself, as a newbie.

Same thing with Harry Potter.

Same with Eragon.

And Hulk.

And Batman.

Yet, there are these bratty children out there, now, who spoil the fun of everything that comes out.

I've never read Divergent. And, now, I'm not going to bother watching the movie, because I know how it ends. The franchise lost a potential fan, because of other fans.

Mind-blowing. And idiotic. And fucking childish.

The Collie

My parents used to tell me stories about my grandfather, on my dad’s side. He was a very religious man, and was very in-tune with the teachings of the Bible. He was also a Medium, of sorts; he attributed his skills as a gift from God. He never claimed to be a shaman, or anything, but he was sometimes accused of being a Satanist, because of his gifts. People in the late 1800s always blamed things they didn’t understand on witchcraft and devilry. Hell, we do that, today, don’t we?

Dad told me stories about how grand-dad was able to just touch somebody, or talk to them, and whatever was ailing them would fade away. I never met the man, nor do I even know his name, but I feel a sort of spiritual connection with him, through my parents’ stories. 

The story that stuck with me, the most, and still gives me chills, is the story about The Collie. The story goes that grand-dad loved dogs, but was weary of strays, especially Collies, and all-black dogs. Collies are a death omen. He used to say that if a stray Collie was to enter your yard, it will announce the death of a person close to you. The dogs will appear usually a couple days early, and leave on their own accord. You can't force them away. As they leave, they will sit next to you and howl, then look toward the person who is dying. 

I became a believer of that one, last night.

I had a dream about a Collie, and it terrified me. I was sitting on my front porch, having a cigarette, when the dog came trotting up my driveway. In my dream, I kicked at the dog, and screamed, and tried to scare it away, but it sat, and calmly howled, then looked West. The hospital where my mother was admitted to, is West of my house. I screamed “NO!” The dog came up to me, and laid its head on my lap as I cried.

I woke, this morning, to my phone ringing.

My mother had passed away in her sleep. I firmly believe that the dream was her way of saying goodbye to me, the only way she could. She’s gone to heaven, to be with my dad, now, and I’m happy that she’s no longer suffering. I’m also so deeply saddened, as most people are, by death. I miss her like crazy, and my heart hurts. I’m happy, though, that she has reunited with the man she spent 49 years on Earth with, and spend the rest of eternity in bliss. If anybody deserves peace and happiness, it’s her.

Rest in peace, Mom. I’ll see you again, some day.