Thursday, January 19, 2012
It sucks because I've enjoyed all the extra time I've gotten with Robbie and Ben. Even when I was laying on the couch in post op pain and/or sick as hell from the Loritab's, I got to see them way more than I would had I been at work for eight hours, four to five days a week.
I'm looking forward to it because on Sunday I'll have been off for a month and I'm looking forward to getting out of the house and being productive regularly again. As much as I go back and forth on liking/not liking my job, it will be nice. But at least now I can remind myself that with starting school in the fall, I won't be there much longer anyway.
So, for my last weekend as a free woman, I'll hopefully be taking my driving test tomorrow, which means being at the DMV by 7am as a walk-in. Ick. At least Robbie's on normal hours and I'll already be up, but still. The ass crack of dawn is still the ass crack of dawn no matter how you try to dress it up. Like putting a plumber in a tutu, the crack is still unattractive no matter what. Anyways. I say hopefully because Ben re-hurt his back at work tonight and is back at home, so he may not feel up to driving that much.
Regardless of whether I take the test or not, the rest of the plan for the weekend involves Robbie and I staying over at Ben's place, which is something we all love. We bring the Wii with us so Robbie has something else to keep him occupied, as well as a few of his movies, but he also plays on Ben's PS2. I'm going to get a few toys for him to keep over there tomorrow, maybe a bucket of Lego's and a couple other things so he's not always playing video games. Robbie loves the fact he has his own room there, something we can't do here due to space constrains. He got to pick out his Lightening McQueen sheets and blanket before we stayed the last time and it thrilled him to no end. His bed never stays made, usually the bedding ends up in the walk in closet in his room, where he will make a pallet on the floor to play, but that's a five year old for you.
So, yes, it's going to be a fun weekend. :)
Monday, January 16, 2012
1) No eating 6 to 8 hours after eating.
If I eat a big meal, I have to wait at least six to eight hours before eating again, no matter how hungry I feel. I have a fast metabolism, so it's pretty common for me to be hungry after a few hours. But doing so right now will result in me getting sick. I discovered this the other day after having Cattleman's steak with Ben then Taco Bueno eight hours later. This is when I became aware of the fact that my stomach is digesting as quick as it did, as I revisited with undigested bits of salad, potato and steak later on when my stomach decided it was having quite enough of all this nonsense. Definitely no bueno.
2) Alcohol makes me sick.
Whether it be one beer or a few, one mixed drink or a few, one shot or a few, it sits heavy on my stomach and will make me sick. Plus, I feel like I have a hangover for two days no matter how much I drank. As a result, I'm going to quit drinking. I've been wanting to for awhile anyway, plus Ben and I have talked about it a few times as something good for both of us to do, so now's the time.
3) Spicy food hates my stomach.
Anyone that knows me knows I like spicy food. If it can't take the paint off the side of a barn, it's not hot enough. For awhile there, it was a running joke whenever I would go out for sushi with my friends that "sushi night isn't sushi until Kortnee overdoes it on the wasabi at least once. Well, apparently my cast iron stomach has hung up its hat and said "I'm done". Anything even remotely spicy will send me to the bathroom within a half hour. Even just a small sprinkling of crushed red pepper on pasta will do it. I feel like this is the biggest gyp ever. People told me not to eat spicy food when I started having the gallbladder issues, to stick with bland food. Spicy food didn't bother it at all, it was the bland food that bugged me the worse. Now it has flipped. Bland food loves me, spicy food hates me.
Most of it is easy enough to deal with. I just eat smaller meals more often, sometimes just grazing throughout the day rather than eating a proper meal. I don't drink. I avoid anything that might be hot. (-sob-) But that doesn't make it any less annoying.
The perks of all this?
1) No more pain.
This is the biggie. In the three months it took to get my gallbladder out, from the initial pain to surgery, I hurt all the time. While it was worse after eating (sometimes worse than others), I always hurt in my back under my right shoulder blade. It varied from a steady ache to feeling like someone was stabbing me in the back. I also hurt under the right side of my rib cage, which varied from a steady ache to something akin to what one would think the chest popping scene from Alien might feel like. The night before my surgery, I had the worse gallbladder attack to date. Which was really fun since I had so much to finish for Christmas before my surgery. I alternated between being curled up on my parents bed while trying to wrap presents, curled up in the shower throwing up down the drain, to curled up on the porch with a cigarette, crying and reminding myself suicide wasn't an option because it'd be over soon.
The pain I experienced with gallbladder redefined my concept for pain. After the pain of labor and of kidney stones, I didn't think that was possible. And I'm not one of those lucky bitches that had little to no pain during labor, oh no. I would take labor AND a kidney stone simultaneously over the pain of a gallbladder attack.
Funnily enough, when I talk to women whom have had both and I say its worse than labor, they agree but admit they never thought about it like that. Most women will agree that kidney stones and labor are pretty on par with each other, but no one ever compares the gallbladder. My theory is that a gallbladder attack is so much worse, you automatically rank it in another category without even thinking about it and don't think to compare it to something like labor until someone else points it out. My coworker Sharon is who first clued me in on the comparison when she said, "It's like labor fifty times over but in your stomach."
2) Breakfast is once again edible.
I don't mean breakfast foods, I mean breakfast in general. Ever since I was 16 and started having stomach issues, eating within the first couple of hours after waking up would make my stomach very upset. It started out as a once in awhile thing, depending on what I tried to eat, gradually getting worse over the years until every time I ate within the first two hours of getting up would send me running for the bathroom thirty minutes later. Right before the gallbladder attacks started, even drinking coffee of Dr Pepper was causing this reaction.
Kinda hard to believe that I may have been dealing with my gallbladder for 12 years, I just didn't know it because it didn't present any of your A typical symptoms until last September. Go figure, it is my luck after all.
But yes, that's where I'm at stomach wise.
And did I mention no pain? :D
Friday, January 13, 2012
Henry Banks wasn't the type of person that made waves. Not even in Unity, Arizona in 1843. Since his arrival to the town, he settled down quietly, working himself a modest living, and caused no trouble. He wasn't the richest man in town, but by far was he the poorest. He liked everyone, saw the good in everyone, no matter how ruff the ruffian, and was well liked in return. He never talked about his past before coming to Unity, and no one ever asked. The Sheriff of Unity, Tom Reynolds, especially liked him. Henry had a fair and even Outlook, Tom would say. An eye for an eye.
This opinion eventually led to Tom deputising Henry. After months of protest, of course. Henry did not want to be in the public eye, just wanted to live a quiet life. It may have taken Tom getting Henry rip roaring drunk and singing with the ladies at Unity Saloon to get him to accept, but no matter. Henry was eventually the deputy sheriff of Unity, and was well received.
Even as deputy, Henry did his job well. He eventually made a daily venture to the Sheriff station where Tom would sit in a rocker. Henry stood next, of course, cause he didn't feel he was of the stature to sit with the Sheriff yet. Tom didn't protest, was just glad his pupil was falling into his failed role. Henry had his own opinion, which Tom consulted frequently, but he never questioned a final judgement, something he had found deputies lacking in.
Until, that is, about six months after Henry's appointment. Tom and Henry were having their daily commune when Tom spotted someone new on the way into town.
"Well, look at what we have here," Tom said.
"Hmm?" said Henry in his usual noncomittal way.
"We have ourselves a figure of folklore in our midst." Tom pointed to one of the four riders coming in from the west.
Tom looked up at Henry. He saw Henry look at the riders casually, then do a double take.
"You see her?" Tom asked.
"Yes," Henry said after a pause. "I do."
"Her name is Annie James," Tom said, a bit incredilous. "I've heard of her."
The rider in question was unmistakable. She rode with men, but was obviously female. Annie wore the clothing of a man, but tailored to fit her figure, including a steep cut in the front to display the tops of her breasts. Her hair was tied back, blonde at the bottom, black halfway up and under her hat. But was unmistakable about her was the six gun on each hip.
As other people on the street caught sight of hér, they stopped and stared. The gang paused just before the station. They seemed to converse with the woman, then the rest headed for the saloon, while she took a slow canter to the Sheriff's station.
"Afternoon," she said from the coral, dipping her hat to the Sheriff."
"Afternoon," Tom replied with a hat dip in kind, noting Henry did the same with a shaky voice and hand.
"May I have a moment of your time?" the woman asked.
"Of course," said Tom, and felt his deputy stiffen beside him.
The woman dismounted, tethered her horse, and approached the Sheriff, stoppimg just at the top step of the station.
"I wanted to introduce myself coming into town," she began. "Because a woman like me is not usual."
"Of course you're not," Tom said. "You're Annie James."
It didn't take a genius to see her eyes fall and her shoulders slump. "Oh. You've heard of me?"
"Of course I have," Tom said, forgetting about his deputy for the moment, who was pulling his hat down low over his face. "Who hasn't? The woman that dresses like a man? The woman that wears guns like a man? And, more importantly;" he leaned forward, glaring at Annie. "The woman who can use guns just lime a man?"
Annie seemed to shrink back, then puffed herself up. "Yes, I am all that. But did you hear I don't cause trouble? Did you hear I don't draw a weapon unless in self defense?" she took a step closer and looked Tom in the eye. "And did you hear if you want me to leave right now, I will? Me and my gang. We will buy water and supplies, give your town commerce, and be out of here."
Tom looked at her for awhile, and Annie looked back. He dected no deception in her...but he had the town and what they thought to think about.
"Well," he said. "I have to say, in my town's opinion, your presence wouldn't be very wel-"
All of a sudden, Henry kicked the hell out of Tom's boot.
"Well..." Tom restarted. "What I meant to say was, if you and your gang don't cause no trouble, you're welcome here."
The surprise and relief to cross Annie's face was unmistakable. "Thank you, Sheriff. We're much obliged."
After she rode off to the saloon, Tom turned to Henry. "You better have a good explanation for this.""I do," Henry said, finally raising his head, to reveal eyes brimming with tears. "She's my wife."