Category Archives: If I was a dog I’d be dead by now


I recovered from the flu (HELL YES) just in time to have debilitating lower back spasms (WTF?) and after a few days of pretending it wasn’t real I finally went to the doctor and she gave me muscle relaxers and made me go to a “sports therapy doctor” and that seemed weird because I don’t do sports, but I’m an expert at therapy so I thought maybe it would work, but when I was in the waiting room I heard a woman in with the doctor and she was making terrible involuntary sounds that normal people don’t make unless they’re being crushed to death by a large animal or having really aggressive sex and I didn’t want to do either of those at the moment so I just ran out of the waiting room because apparently I’m eight.

Also, my feet have been numb and weird and the main symptom is “I feel like I walked on invisible scotch tape and the scotch tape is stuck in between my toes and it’s peeling off when I walk but not entirely and I can’t take it off because it doesn’t exist and is this a thing or am I crazy?” and turns out that’s totally a normal (?) thing called Morton’s Neuroma and it’s caused by your nerve getting stuck between your inflamed feet joints. And then I asked my doctor if there’s also a diagnosis for “when you know you can’t start fires with your mind but you still keep trying because maybe this time it’ll work” and she said there’s not a diagnosis for that, but she’s wrong because it’s called optimism.

My body is a deadly weapon. Usually just to myself but today it’s really going the extra mile.

I’m too tired to type so here’s what’s happening now:

Are you fucking serious right now?

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Have you had this flu?  If so, what helped?

Going to sleep on the couch and have fever dreams now.  Please send cat pictures.

They’re like snow peas, but with less carbs. I assume.

Me: Dude.  The news just said that snow leopards are no longer endangered, so guess what’s for dinner?

Victor: Are they no longer endangered because there are more of them or because now they’re extinct?

me:  Oh.  I don’t know.  Damn.  My joke just went from dark to tragic.

PS.  They’re not extinct. But they’re still not in great shape.  Don’t eat them.

PPS. The last 6 months have been filled with “I’M DYING” illnesses and procedures and invasive bullshit but I have a few updates.

I still don’t have answers for all the anemias but they’ve at least ruled out all the scary stuff and are settling into “Well, you’re just fucked up but you’ll probably live.”  My liver is rebelling from the effects of this fuck-off-tuberculosis medicine, which means I have to stop drinking until the TB is gone and do constant blood work to check my levels.  Not a fan.  Of the not drinking, I mean.  The blood work is old hat.  BUT!!!  I just got back from my GP and 80% of the problems I’d had 6 months ago (extreme vitamin and hormone deficiencies, thyroid problems, clotting problems, cholesterol, pre-diabetic, etc.) are now gone.  WHOOP!  I still have to stay on the (literally) two shoeboxes full of pills and supplements and keep up this terrible low-carb, low-sugar diet for the moment, but I feel mostly human compared to where I was six months ago so I’m (grudgingly) fine with that.  Also, I’ve lost 30 pounds, so I went from “obese” to “overweight” and that’s very nice, except I’m now slightly less successful at bending my spine back and resting my hand on my belly while asking anxiously if I can use the restrooms in stores where customers aren’t allowed to use the restrooms.  Bit of a mixed bag there.  But I’ll take it.

PPPS.  Also, I have to do blood work constantly so “See doctor for blood work” is all over my calendar, but google autocorrected it to “See doctor for blood worms” once so now when I type in “See doctor” it automatically fills in “FOR BLOOD WORMS” and I should probably fix that but I’ve decided to keep it because it’s a nice reminder that even though I seem to collect disorders I can at least be grateful that I don’t have blood worms.

PPPPS.  Yet.

PPPPPS.  That I know of.

PPPPPPS.  Fuck.  I think I just gave myself blood worms and I don’t even know if that’s a real thing.

PPPPPPPPS. If “leopards” is spelled almost the same as “leotards”, why don’t we pronounce them the same?

From flattered to offended to confused in under 5 seconds.

Y’all.  I was at the post office picking up my mail and the very young clerk helping me suddenly became transfixed and started moaning loudly while looking at my chest.  Like slack-jawed and audibly groaning loud enough that other people started looking and I thought, “Wow.  My boobs have never had this effect on a man before so I guess I should be flattered but I’m also offended because YOU ARE CREEPING ME OUT, SIR, AND I DON’T KNOW HOW TO RESPOND TO THIS.

So I bent at the knees a little so that my boobs would be under the counter separating us but it didn’t help and the guy’s hands were trembling and he asked, “Did you donate blood?” and that’s when I realized that he was actually looking at the bandage around my arm from having blood work this morning and that I’d bled through the cotton ball and onto the gauze wrap, but before I could answer he turned pale and yelled, “I NEED TO GO SIT DOWN” and sprinted to the back room.  And then I felt very relieved but also a tiny bit disappointed that my boobs didn’t suddenly have the power to render a man speechless.  But then I reminded myself that I basically made someone almost pass out using only my inner elbow and that’s pretty impressive in itself.

PS.  My boobs aren’t on my elbows.  I just had my arm up on the counter to sign for the packages.  It’s weird that I feel I have to clarify that.

PPS. I just got a call from my doctor about the blood work from last week and turns out my liver is still fucked up from the TB meds so I have to go on an additional medication (22 pills a day currently – a new, terrible record) to try to protect my liver and I also have to move from “under 3 alcoholic drinks a week” to “under zero alcoholic drinks a week” and I was like, “But can I still do heroin?” and she said, “Of course.  I’m not going to make you give up carbs, sugar, alcohol AND heroin.  I’m not a monster.”  And that’s how I know that I have a good doctor.  Because she gets my sense of humor.  Not that she approves heroin.

Anyway, the news could be worse but it still makes me a tiny bit weepy because I’m a bit overloaded from the last eight months of constant you’re-not-dead-yet-but-we-don’t-know-why-not diagnoses but then I opened the mail and it was filled with old buttons and lovely notes and books and I was reminded that it’s going to be okay and that at least I didn’t have a disorder that makes me pass out when I see other people’s elbows.

That I know of.


PPPS. For those of you who missed the button discussion on twitter, I collect them.  Then I pretend that my hands are Scrooge McDuck and the buttons are gold coins.  It is incredibly relaxing.  I’ll make a new video soon.

PPPPS.  For those of you asking, yes, I will happily take your unsorted handfuls of unwanted buttons if you don’t want them.  Here’s my address:   /   14546 Brook Hollow Blvd. #400   /   San Antonio TX, 78232.

When do the cyborg bodies get here?

I’ve been a bit MIA lately so here’s a quick update about where I am and what I’m doing.

I had a severe allergic reaction that made me vomit for 10 straight hours and I don’t recommend it.  I developed an allergy to brazil nuts this year and now it’s so bad that even a sliver makes my body turn inside out and my doctor was like, “Hey, interesting trivia that might kill you:  Brazil nuts are the only allergies that are sexually transmitted.”  And I was like, “Awesome.  So I have a severe allergy AND an STD?” and she explained that I couldn’t give the allergy to other people but that if I had sex with someone who ate brazil nuts I could have a severe allergic reaction because apparently brazil nuts come out of your semen.  Not whole, I mean.  That would probably be noticeable.  But enough to send you into shock if you have sex with someone full up on brazil nuts.

This seems like something that should be known since some people have deadly nut allergies and I suggested an ad campaign like, “Keep nuts out of your nuts” but my doctor said it probably wouldn’t fly because the people who make brazil nuts wouldn’t be pleased and I was like, “I’M NOT GOING TO LET BIG NUTS KEEP ME DOWN.”  And she looked at me weird and I explained that the people who owned tobacco were “Big Tobacco” so the nut people were probably “Big Nuts” and she nodded and probably wrote a note to herself to stop accepting my insurance.

I looked for a gif for “brazil nuts” and this is what they gave me. Seems fitting.

In other news about my body trying to kill me, I can’t take the injections for rheumatoid arthritis because of the latent tuberculosis that I probably only have because my autoimmune system is fairly non-existent because of the injections I take for rheumatoid arthritis, so I have to take a medicine to kill the tuberculosis but my doctor just checked my blood and the medication to kill the TB is fucking up my liver so I have to go back in for more tests to see if I need to go off the anti-tuberculosis meds which would mean I couldn’t take the RA meds keeping me out of a wheelchair because then I could get active tuberculosis.  I am a snake swallowing it’s own tail.  And also I’m allergic to snakes.  Additionally, the pill cam data came back and the doctor was like, “You’re all fucked up but we still don’t know where all your missing blood is going.  Your stomach looks gross though and you have ulcers.”  Probably from the stress of all these tests.  Long story short, my body is trying to kill me and I want a replacement.  Or a cyborg body.  I’m not picky.

PS. I’m fine.  A little pathetic and very tired but it’s a relief to know the scarier things I was worried about seem to be okay.  Things could be worse and I think the meds (mainly supplements, vitamins) the doctor has had me on for the past 3 months are helping.  And I’ve lost almost 25 pounds on this horrible low-carb, low-sugar diet the doctor forced me to go on so I almost look like the person I photoshop myself to be on the internet.

PPS.  AND my hard drive broke last week but Apple just fixed it and Victor backed it up and the books I was working on are there!  I was so relieved I cried a little.

I have so many questions.

Note: I’m an idiot.

So I have pneumonia again because of course I do and nothing is cutting this cough so today my doctor gave me some cough syrup and my first question was, “Why does it say ‘This is a RED LIQUID’ on the bottle?

Hunter S. Tomcat was intrigued as well.

And so I asked twitter and they were like, “I dunno.  Why does it say ‘Do not use on eyelashes’ on my flat iron?” which just gave me more questions.  But then a lot of people explained that it was to make sure you got the correct medicine from your pharmacist but the liquid is actually pink (like Strawberry Hill or blush box wine) so then I was paranoid that I’d been given poison, but my pharmacy never even has my antidepressants in stock so I doubt they’d have a bunch of poison handy.

But then it got even more complicated because it said “TAKE 10MLS BY MOUTH” but I don’t have a syringe to measure how much that is so I yelled, “HOW MUCH IS 10 MILLILITERS? at Victor and he was like, “Ten milliters of what?” and I was like, “I mean, 10 milliliters of anything?  Codeine juice, I guess?” because I just wanted to know how many teaspoons is in a milliliter, and also why is this even in milliliters?  Am I in Canada?  Because I paid too much for this medicine if so, and it’s not fair that I have to pay for healthcare and do math too.  And Victor was like, “WTF IS ‘CODEINE JUICE’ AND WHY ARE YOU PRICING IT?” and then I gave up explaining and went to the internet and Google was like, “I CAN HELP.  A MILLILITER IS .002 PINTS” which was not helpful at all.

But then when I did finally work out the conversion it didn’t matter because I couldn’t find the measuring spoons so I went online to find out if the spoons you use to stir tea are the same size as teaspoons (answer: not necessarily) but there was an image that you could use if you didn’t have measuring spoons that showed you how much a teaspoon of salt looked like in your cupped palm so I poured that much into my hand and then I considered spooning the syrup out of my hand to take it but then I’d have to wash the spoon so instead I just drank it out of my hand and then Victor walked by and was like, “Seriously?  THIS IS WHY YOU GET EVERY COLD.  YOU ARE LICKING YOUR OWN HAND.”  And that’s true, but technically I was licking medicine off my hand so I’m pretty sure that makes this whole thing moot.

PS. Victor vehemently disagrees and is currently buying me measuring spoons because he says my method is ridiculous and probably unsafe but I was actually supposed to have two handfuls of codeine juice (based on my math) and I only took one, so technically I was being conservative and responsible.  Victor disagrees on all counts.

PPS.  Spellcheck is insisting that “milliliter” is not even a real word and for once I feel like spellcheck has my back.  It also is telling me that it doesn’t know what “spooning” is either and now I just feel a bit sorry for it and I suspect it’s hitting on me.

It’s a fantastic voyage, if your idea of travel involves an esophagus.

This morning I went to swallow a camera inside of a pill so that the doctor can find out where all my missing blood is going (my current assumption: I’m just really irresponsible) and it didn’t start well because I got there at 7am and waited for an hour because “there was a malfunction”, which is not really what you want to hear about a robot that you’re going to swallow.  Eventually they fixed it and I swallowed it, starting the worst p0rno ever while simultaneously becoming part cyborg.

The most terrible tour bus ever.

I was under the impression that I’d have to wear some sort of necklace that transmits the video but turns out I had to wear a giant samurai belt/fanny pack, some blue wires, and something that looks exactly like the purse made to carry the cassette walkman I had in 1984.

Swallowed a robot. Outfit of the day: cyberman.

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Also, the nurse was all, “Be careful that you don’t bang the equipment” and I was like, “I’m not even attracted to it” and she just stared at me because apparently she doesn’t understand questionable phrasing.

Then she said that I had to keep eating an all-liquid diet until this afternoon when I could have a dry sandwich but I reminded her that I couldn’t eat carbs and she was like, “You can have a small piece of meat.”

…but we didn’t have anything in the house so then I had to go to the grocery store looking as if I’d strapped a small bomb to my body.  And I made Victor come with me because I didn’t want to do it alone and Victor was like, “So I’ve gotta go to grocery store with RoboCop?” and it was slightly mortifying but whenever people would stare I’d just loudly say, “I’m not sure about this sting.  Do you think they’ll be able to tell I’m wearing a wire?” and then they’d stare more, but at least I was in charge of why they were staring.

I get the results in this week but based on my experience I can only assume the result will be “Nope.  Let’s find something even more ridiculous to put you through.”











(UPDATED!) I’m less sick than before but I’m also less than I was before.

First off, several of you recently asked if I was tested for Hashimoto’s Disease and so yesterday I asked my doctor when I was in for more blood work and she was like, “Yeah, of course you have Hashimoto’s Disease.  You have a lot of diseases.”  And then she shrugged and went back to listing all the things I was doing wrong.  And that sort of sums up my whole year.

I am feeling a bit better compared to where I was a few months ago but not sure if it’s because of the meds, diet, testosterone, supplements or the fact that since I feel better I finally have the strength to leave the house and walk or swim again.  I’ve been on this awful doctor-mandated low carb/low sugar diet for a month and the good thing is that I’ve lost 12 pounds and the bad thing is pretty much everything else involved in eating low carb/ low sugar.  It’s nice that I’ve lost 12 pounds but I still have to lose more and I sort of wonder if I just feel less awful because there’s now slightly less of me to feel awful and by that reasoning I will probably feel my best after I’ve been dead for 6 months.

Also, when I saw my doctor she was putting another woman on the same diet and I was like, “It’s a weird diet.  You can have all the bacon and vodka you want, but no carrots” and my doctor was like, “That’s…not really the diet I put you on” I was all, “You specifically said no carrots” and she was like, “Yeah, I’m not arguing about the carrot part…” and she started talking about heart problems but I stopped listening because basically every time she talks I get a new disease.

Also, helpful hint for people on the same low carb, low sugar diet I’m on: Get some of those already roasted whole chickens at the grocery store because they’re delicious and when you rip it apart with your hands you can pretend you’re a giant and that it’s the torso of the person who put you on the low carb diet.  Additionally, hummus wrapped in lettuce leaves = somewhat filling and also the saddest burrito ever.  I plan on staying on the diet for another month or two but I don’t think I can do longer than that because bread is delicious and with all the vodka I’m drinking I might be getting too healthy.

PS.  FUCK.  I have to do blood work each year to make sure I’m healthy enough to stay on my injections for rheumatoid arthritis and as I was finishing this post my rheumatologist just called to let me know that my blood work shows that I’ve been infected with tuberculosis bacteria.

JESUS CHRIST.  I APOLOGIZE TO WHOEVER I HAVE OFFENDED.  PLEASE REMOVE WHATEVER TERRIBLE CURSE YOU PUT ON ME.  I HAVE LEARNED MY LESSON.  (Disclaimer: I’ve learned nothing, but I will  pretend I have as hard as you want if you make this all stop.)

Apparently it’s not incredibly uncommon for people to carry the TB bacteria if you live in a third world country, are in prison, or have auto-immune diseases (bingo) but only like 10% of us will actually progress to full-blown tuberculosis so today I have to get chest x-rays to see if I’m more “moderately healthy ex-felon” or “Doc Holliday with a vagina.”  Chances are that I’m the first (and not contagious, so no worries if you hugged me recently) but because I’m more susceptible to TB now I have to meet with my doctor to find other treatment options for my RA because my injections make it super easy to get severe TB so I probably can’t stay on them and these injections are the only thing keeping me out of that wheelchair and now I’m going to just cry for an hour.

It could be worse and I’m sure it’ll be fine but I’m just really sick and tired of being sick and tired and of having my whole life revolve around not dying.  And I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about it too.  Sorry.  I feel your pain, dude.

PPS.  I looked for a gif to sum all this up and when I looked up “I’M HAVING A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN” this came up, and yeah…it’s pretty perfect:

UPDATED: “Your chest x-rays look clear. Your TB is just in your blood.” NOT DYING OF CONSUMPTION YET, MOTHERFUCKER! This is a weird thing to celebrate, but I will take it.

Well, shit.

In the ongoing of saga of my-body-is-trying-to-kill-me I got my results back from my endoscopy/colonoscopy but instead of a call I got an email with my results, and the subject was “FU CALL”:


Which is apparently shorthand for “follow-up call” but it’s still concerning.  Also, an email isn’t a call.   Just saying.  But the biopsy results were best expressed in this gif:

Mostly because it was filled with scary words that I didn’t understand but then I talked to the doctor and he was like,

Because there’s some crappy stuff like “chronic gastritis” and “intestinal metaplasia” but nothing that says, “THIS IS WHERE ALL YOUR MISSING BLOOD IS GOING.”  Also, the results were confusing but as I understand it there are four stages of your stomach and the first is “I AM IMMORTAL” and the second is “Ew” and the third is “Well that’s not good” and the fourth is “YOU’VE GOT CANCER” and I’m on the third, but apparently lots of people stay on the third stage forever so I guess it’s not as scary as it sounds?

And I was like,

But then my doctor was like, “We gotta do more tests” BECAUSE OF COURSE THEY DO so he wanted to check me for parasites and bacteria and the nurse handed me a cup and said, “We’re going to need you to bring us a sample” but I needed more details because I wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted so I was like, “Do I…shit in this?” because it would suck to hand someone a jar of poop they didn’t ask for and she nodded like I was crazy and gave me a brown bag filled with gloves and a hat and I was like, “This seems like a very formal dress code for pooping in a cup.”

…and she was like, “That’s a toilet hat” which was even more confusing because why does my toilet need a hat?  I don’t even have matching towels.  But turns out it’s like a plastic hat that you put on the toilet seat so you can shit in it and then transfer the poo into a jar.  (WTF.)

Which seems like a lot of work, but it gets even more complicated because then you have to freeze it into a poopsicle before you turn it into the lab and Victor was like, “NOOPE.  YOU ARE NOT PUTTING HUMAN FECES IN THE SAME DRAWER AS THE HOT POCKETS” but I explained that it was fine because there was a hat and gloves involved so it was super fancy and I put the hat on and did a small dance but then he was like, “LADY, THAT’S A TOILET HAT” and I was both impressed and concerned that he knew that, but I agreed to write “DO NOT EAT SHIT” on the bag in the freezer so that no one would touch it, and actually that works out well because from now on I’m going to put all of the ice cream drum sticks in a brown bag that says “DO NOT EAT SHIT” to make everyone else not eat them and finally there’s a bright side to this bullshit.

Toilet hat. Like a clear Smokey Bear hat that you can also use as a very large measuring cup. But not if you use it on the toilet. Gross.  That probably goes without saying

Anyway, if my poop doesn’t have all the answers (there’s a phrase I never thought I’d write) then I move on to swallowing the camera pill that takes a terrible torso ride, which I can only assume will give me even more confusing non-answers that help nothing.

Just a guess, but this is what I assume will be the next gif I use to explain my medical stuff:

To be continued.

The drugs were awesome.

So today I had my endoscopy/colonoscopy procedure and (as you told me) the prep from yesterday was worse than the actual procedure.

From twitter yesterday:

  • Today’s menu : clear liquids, jello and laxatives. Feels like I’m back in college…
  • …except that the nurse says vodka does not count as a “clear liquid”.  Which makes me doubt she’s ever had vodka.  Now I’m said for both of us.
  • This clear broth tastes like I want a hamburger.
  • So, I have to take ANOTHER dose of prescription strength laxatives at 5am tomorrow?  There could not *possibly* be anything left in me.
  • …Victor: “We’re taking your car tomorrow.”  His beside manner, you guys.

I had an anxiety attack waiting for the procedure but I asked twitter to distract me and they flooded with otter videos and stuff like this:


I was very high for the procedure and was assured I would feel and remember nothing but still panicked a little when they strapped one of those masks on my face which was supposedly some sort of mouth guard to keep me from biting the scope but which felt more like the mask that Hannibal Lector had to wear to keep from killing people with his teeth.  The anesthesiologist was awesome in that he gave me the BEST drugs but right before he put them in my IV he told me that the drugs can cause super-strong dreams so to think of a good place, and that was nice except that he was like, “Don’t think about work or pain” or a list of other things he told me not to think about which of course I immediately thought about, but it didn’t matter because I didn’t dream and the next second I was in recovery and couldn’t believe it was over so quickly.  Also, I was very high but I didn’t think I was and Victor wouldn’t let me have my phone.

Me: “I’m fine.  I can tweet now.” Victor: “You really can’t.” Me: “I’m totally fine.” Victor: “You keep trying to reboot your water bottle.”

But then he gave up and it’s obvious that he shouldn’t have because I was like, “TAKE MY PICTURE TO PROVE I’M ALIVE” and then I tweeted it because I was too high to realize it was not a good picture.  Victor later defended himself by pointing out that I was sober enough to use a black and white filter but that’s just muscle memory.

Then the doctor came out and showed me close-ups of my insides, and my stomach lining looked like Mars from a distance, which I thought was very pretty but apparently not really what it was supposed to look like because it was “very irritated for unknown reasons”.  (Much like Victor)

Things I learned today: The inside of my stomach looks like an active volcano.

He found some issues but nothing that screamed “THIS IS WHERE ALL HER MISSING BLOOD IS GOING”.  They did a biopsy to check for cancer and another to check for celiac disease, but other than the same stomach ache that’s plagued me for a month I feel fine.

Apparently there’s a part that they couldn’t get to even with the human shishkabobing so I might need to do another scoping where I swallow a pill that’s actually a tiny camera, and I find it weird that we’re living in a future where science can take a ride through my body in a pill but they can’t make fat-free egg rolls.

So basically what I learned is that there’s still something wrong but no clear answers on what exactly, which is sort of how all of my medical misadventures go so I’m kind of used to it.  I should know more in a week or so when the biopsies are finished.  Meh.

On the way out I (literally) ran into the anesthesiologist and I asked him if I said anything mortifying when I was under, but he smiled and gave a wink to Victor and said, “Oh, just about how much you love your husband” and I was like, “Well that’s embarrassing because this is my boyfriend.  My husband’s a real bastard,” and Victor was like “Yeah, we hate that guy.”

PS. When I left they gave me a sticker that said “GET BEHIND COLON CANCER AWARENESS” and I’m not entirely sure if that phrasing was on purpose but it is my new favorite thing.