Dear Body, (Part III)

I've been sitting on these words for awhile because I just wasn't sure what was going to happen. But I have to tell you, I never thought I'd be so happy to hear "you have an autoimmune disease." A few days ago, I was going to sit down and yell at you for having such ridiculous problems that no doctor could seem to piece together. But one finally did. Body, I was too distracted by what was going on in my head to pay full attention to you. Oh, of course I was still annoyed with you. But I think you already knew that. So I went to see Miss Head Doctor and man did she seem mean with all those blood tests she ordered. AND THEN ONE MORE. But that last one did the trick. That last one said all the crazy in you and in my head was largely because there's a problem with my thyroid. I'M CRAZY FOR A REASON! No one ever gets to say that and not be blaming someone else. I want to thank you, Body. Not for causing all those problems but... No, I don't want to thank you. That was a mean thing to do.

Body, we've been through a lot this year. Hey, it wasn't my idea to cut you open and poke around. I was just fine with saying "no" anytime I was asked if I'd had a surgery. I think this year will forever be known as The Year I Bled. Literally and metaphorically, it seems. It was the year I finally decided to take care of myself and you rather than just being in fight or flight mode all the time. I understand that you're probably as fed up with me as I am with you, Body. I totally get that. I'd been running you on an average of thirty hours of sleep a week and a diet that mostly consisted of cheap coffee and cheaper food. I've tried to rectify that in more recent months. I slept more, stopped drinking coffee for the most part and went gluten free. That didn't work. Because you're a jerk. Okay, so it's not entirely your fault. The nice Family Doctor said that you have something called Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. She could tell because one of your thyroid hormones was way off the charts. The normal level is supposed to be under 35. Yours was 780.

The symptoms:

Fatigue (check)
Drowsiness (check)
Forgetfulness (check)
Depression (check)
Difficulty with learning (It's been awhile)
Dry, brittle hair and nails (Okay, you don't have this one. Yay!)
Dry, itchy skin (Not really a check either)
Puffy Face (check)
Belly problems (check)
Sore muscles (check)
Weight Gain (this was a check until the gluten free thing)
Sensitivity to cold (check)
Menstrual problems (CHECK.)

That nice Head Doctor said that my symptoms sounded like depression but weren't fully consistent and that's why she ordered that extra blood test. Body, I want to say I'm sorry for all that yelling I did and all those mean things I said. I meant them at the time but I was just really frustrated. The Family Doctor said I have to take a pill a day for the rest of my life. As my peace offering to you, Body, I'm going to take that pill and I'm not going to complain. So, get better damn it. The best part about that pill is that it has a generic so that even when I don't have insurance anymore, it still only costs $4 a month. I know it's not entirely your fault either. It turns out that Hashimoto's is hereditary. Do you know what my dad said when I called to tell him what was wrong, Body? Of course you do. You were there. "Oh, your mom has that too. And I think my doctor said I have it too. And your sister might have it too." I didn't know any better, Body. It seems my family didn't think to tell me THEY HAVE A HEREDITARY DISEASE THAT CAUSES ALL THE SYMPTOMS I HAD. You and me, we made do with what we had.

I'm going to stick with the gluten free thing. It does make me feel better. Plus, I now weigh as much as I did in high school. Now, even though I'm making you be gluten free, I'll happily give you as much beer as you want, Body. And I do hope that's a lot of beer. I'm going to take that pill everyday. I'm going to try and get you normal amounts of sleep but you're going to have to meet me halfway on that one and stop being so tired all the time. It's just not fair. I want to do things. I kind of need your help with that one. I might not take a second job. I don't really need it. I mean, I did in the month of August but that's over in a couple days. I like weekends. It'll be good. I'll shave your legs every now and then and maybe we can go swimming in October or something. Yeah, I'd do that for you. Body, we've really got to work together. We could have a good thing going for us, I think. If it's less hair you want, I can do something about that. I was thinking about going out and buying you new pants today. You deserve them. Body, I do want to thank you for having something easy to fix wrong with you. I know it could've been much worse. An autoimmune disease sounds scary but it seems like an easy fix. We've been through so much more together, Body. We can totally do this. Let's do this.

Most Sincerely,

Theresa

Looking for Inspiration

Reasons why doctors are full of shit:

or

How if the doctor had done a blood test, we could know what's wrong with me:

Last night I went to bed with a few suspicious looking spots on my left hand. This morning I woke up with many, many more suspicious spots covering my extremeties. The spots are spreading and getting worse. They're on my belly and neck now. What does this have to do with the doctor and lack of a blood test? I think I have a systemic infection. One of the many symptoms is allergic reactions to things you're not actually allergic to. I haven't introduced any new food into my diet recently. Although, I did reintroduce Doritos. Those so don't count as new. Or food. I'm itchy all over but I'm breathing just fine aside for the waning (hopefully) cough of death. The thing about the infection is that it causes all these symptoms that look like other things but are just symptoms of the infection. And then it looks like everything is unrelated but isn't. So cough and allergic reaction and feeling crazy and all that other stuff is probably connected. If I'm right.

I guess I'm just frustrated.

Arizona update? Umm... Still don't have anyone to drive with. I haven't set a leaving date yet. Just some time after 8 July and before September. I want to stop in Little Rock and Dallas for sure. Probably Chicago too. It's a fifteen hour drive from Dallas to Phoenix. I never saw myself living in Arizona. But I'm going to make the most of it. It's a new start. I've learned that that doesn't mean that my problems won't follow me. They only define me as much as I let them.

All witticisms aside? I know I screwed up. I am sorry. But I think I told you that. I miss you. More than I would soberly admit.

-Theresa

My life is different now, I swear

I bought tickets to see The Avett Brothers. It's going to be at the Frederik Meijer Gardens in Grand Rapids, which is pretty exciting because I like outdoor shows. And The Avett Brothers.

I think I know what's wrong with me. I read two websites and two books and now, I think I may be an expert on the matter. All they needed to do was run a blood screen. Which they didn't do because they decided to run the STD screen instead. Which was SO NOT NECESSARY. I printed off some charts to fill out so I can show my doctor how all the strange and seemingly unconnected things wrong with my body are all very connected. Even the stupid cough of death. I've decided to self-medicate through nutrition. This means no (okay, less) drinking (for a bit), lots of probiotics, stopping my current medication (it's okay, the doctor gave me that option) and cutting down sugars as much as possible. It sounds like a freakish diet but I think if I stick with it for a few weeks, I may even get better without treatment. My post-op appointment is 29 May. Just a couple more weeks. I'm hoping this works because I'll have different insurance once I start my Americorps position and I don't think they do preexisting conditions.

I still need to find people to drive with me to Arizona. It was going to be my roommate and her sister but my roommate is getting married and moving to Little Rock. Hey, want to drive with me to Arizona?

I can clearly see myself not living in the U.S. I'm not sure where. I've got to think that all these weather extremes are preparing me for something. I'm trying to look forward to Arizona. In preparation, I've decided to try and learn Spanish again. Yesterday, while helping patrons, I realized I can still understand what people are saying to me but I have trouble finding the words to respond. Story of my life.

Dear Guitar-I've-Had-for-a-While-and-Still-Haven't-Named,

I'm sorry I have not spent enough time with you lately. It's just that it hurt to sit up for a couple weeks in there. Now that my belly is mostly healed, I promise we'll spend more time together. I even cut my nails, so you know I mean it. Maybe I'll even get around to naming you.

Dear Roads to Arizona,

I'm kind of a nervous driver and it's gotten worse lately. My request is that, if no one comes with me, come July, the roads are free of construction and the days are long and sunny. I think it's going to take me more than two days to drive twenty-nine hours if I have to do it by myself. I appreciate what you've done so far. Except for that snow storm in New Mexico. But I'm willing to forgive and forget if you help me get to Arizona without too much damage to my well-being.

Dear Kombucha,

You taste okay. I don't mind the vinegar taste but that could have to do with the large amounts of pickle juice I drank as a child. You're kind of expensive but if you're going to help, I guess I won't complain too much. Well, you're cheaper than a large amaretto latte with an extra shot of espresso. Plus, you don't deplete all my B-vitamins like that jerk caffeine. And no matter what flavor I get, if there's a little bit of ginger, it tastes like I'm drinking ginger tea. It's a good thing I've acquired a taste for ginger. With your power and my resistance to showering and shaving on a regular basis, I'm well on my way to being the hippies I've always made fun of.

Dear Cold Weather,

GO AWAY.

-Theresa

If I live too long I'm afraid I'll die.

I always feel like I need a title. Sometimes it relates. Sometimes not. I was watching Darjeeling Limited today.

I need new music if only for the fact that every time I hear music from you, it makes me think of you.

So, it's not Endometriosis, which is great. But I'm still having the same problem and there's not a clear solution it seems. Which is not so great.

Pushing the moving date back a bit. My roommate is getting married 8 July and I kind of want to be there and she kind of wants me to be there. I hadn't put in official resignations to either job yet so it wasn't a big deal. Plus, making more money seems like a great plan. And getting to see friends I probably won't see because no one seems to like Arizona. What'd Arizona ever do to you, huh?

My throat hurts a bit but seems to be getting better. It's a good thing I love fruit because I'm eating it in abundance to make the sickness go away. Which reminds me: I'M GOING TO BE HERE FOR BLUEBERRY SEASON! I put that in all caps so that you could understand my excitement, not to yell at you. I LOVE BLUEBERRIES. If I wanted to hurt all the other berries' feelings, I would call blueberries my favorite but that seems cruel. So I won't. (But really, they kind of are and I think they know it.)

Of all the parts of me that hurt the most right now, I think my soul is in the lead. It's missing something. It needs something. I haven't given it enough attention. You.

The only ways I like chocolate:

In its hot, liquid form.
As part of a Kit Kat bar but only the normal-sized ones.
Wrapped around a peanut and with a candy-coated shell. With a little stamped "m."
Wrapped around peanut butter.
From boys.

Vampire Weekend, I've been meaning to tell you for a while: I give a fuck about an Oxford Comma but only because I hate it so much. See what I did there? I showed you some of that English drama.

Oh, and those "like" options at the bottom don't notify like Facebook does. I'm not sure how I feel about it.

That all being said, I didn't really have very much to say.

-Theresa

The Tylenol speaks for me.

I'm okay. Not Endometriosis. They took out something that looked suspicious looking. I'm healing. Two scars. Follow up appointment in a month or so. I guess my insides look good. I remember freaking out when I woke up. But then I was okay. Longer update later. There is ice cream to be eaten and friends to love. Thanks for your support.

-Theresa

Green reminds me

Julia and I went to the East side of the state on Thursday planning on only staying for a day. We just got back yesterday. It's been the best time I've spent not working in a long time. Under the saddest of circumstances, of course. We went with no plan and it worked out for the best.

The stars would never hurt her never lie never desert her painted on her body.

I forget what it's like to be around people who are good for me. I knew I missed them. I didn't realize how much I missed them. These are people who call me out on the stupid things I think in order to help me rather than embarrass me. These are people I've had a difficult time functioning without.

I've only been a shadow of myself. If it's Endometriosis, I'm getting a side piece. I may as well be a canvas.

Lately, it's taken all I have in me to keep from falling apart. Thank you for trying to help. Tonight, after work, I'm going to clean while drinking. It's how I clear my head. Of course, there will be abundant amounts of praying that everything is okay. I don't really want a side piece anyway.

-Theresa

Here in Right Field

It's easy, you know.

Moving day is ever closer. I think it's safe to say that my feelings of nervousness are actually anxiety. And my overwhelming sadness is probably depression. And I'm leaving soon so there's no point in finding a doctor before I go. But I'm losing my insurance pretty soon here. Oh well. Lots of crazy people don't talk to anyone about their problems and aren't on medication anyway. It's going to be great.

Bob Loblaw. Mmmyup.

I'm going on walks. It helps.

Pop Quiz

Because surprise pelvic exams are my favorite.

Surgery is two weeks from today. I had my pre-op appointment. That was... fun. I didn't actually see the doctor until about forty-five minutes after I was scheduled to. The surgery should only take an hour. Two scars. Dissolvable stitches. Tylenol with Codeine.

To make myself feel better, I bought a milkshake. I wanted vanilla. They gave me chocolate. I gave it to Kristalynn.

Student from hell is in the lab. She wanted Kristalynn but her shift was over. She ended up with me. She asked for an example. I gave her three. She said I wasn't being specific enough and she needed more examples. I told her I had given her some and she just needed to write about her experience using those examples. She flipped out and said she was reporting me because I wasn't helping her and that she was failing her class because of me. I went and told my advisor what happened. She said I was fine. About three minutes later, the student and the advisor walked in. Advisor asked me to tell her what happened. I told her exactly what I had told the student. Advisor says, "well, that sounds like examples." Student declares that it's not enough and I need to break it down more. That we're being unprofessional. That she's going to stay in the room and type her paper. Advisor informs her that there is a computer lab one floor up where I'm not. She decides to stay anyway but doesn't want me to talk to her. She then says she's failing her class because I listen to music while I'm at work. Oh, she's apparently also failing because I told her she couldn't just write down exactly what I said, that she needed to come up with her own ideas and words. She yelled at my advisor. And at me. And she could go ANYWHERE ELSE but has decided to stay here anyway and tell me to turn my music down. I informed her that upstairs, there is no music and she wouldn't even have to see me because I don't work there. She's decided to stay here anyway. I'm thrilled.

So I'm having a bad day. Kathy is sick. I took her some bagels. Kristalynn is gone. Everyone else is at work. And I'm sad and kind of want a hug. But I'm at work for six and a half more hours. And I'm trapped. I don't like feeling this way. More and more, I'm aware that I can't live my life alone. And I don't want to. More and more, I'm realizing I kind of have to.

*Edit: The student came back to apologize for the way she acted. Said God had convicted her and that she shouldn't use excuses for her behavior. She invited me to her church.

-Theresa

Winter just wasn't my season.

Since winter in Michigan lasts well through April, I'm not the least bit surprised that things haven't turned around.

In some ways they have, I suppose. I'll be moving. But I know that a change of venue doesn't change the quality of the music: just one's perception of it.

Some time this week, I'll be getting a phone call to schedule a surgery. It's going to be out-patient and I'm going to be asleep while two procedures are performed but the thought of it is making me sick. I'm scared. I'M SCARED. Stoic exterior be damned. I'm not sure I can handle this alone.

They're not sure what they're looking for. If they find nothing, I have to get more invasive procedures done. If they find that it's Endometriosis, I have to further experiment with birth control and suck it up because it's something I'm going to deal with for the rest of my life. Oh, and it leads to infertility. I've been assured no more than a quarter inch scar on my belly and another one hidden inside my belly button. These pamphlets are doing very little to help.

I can't do this alone. I'm asking for... Well, I don't know what I'm asking for but I have a hard time asking for help when I need it and I think I need it.

In the mean time, I'm giving myself today to dwell on it. I think I'm going to go to the bar after work. Tomorrow, I'll still be scared. But I'll be sober and I'm going to try to pretend like everything is okay because I'm so fucking sick of it not being okay.

-Theresa

Dear Body, (Part II)

I was really hoping I wasn't going to need a part two, but here we go anyway.

I stopped taking the little blue pill, Body. And now, I'm on a slightly larger green pill. Or maybe it's yellow. You don't seem to care. I had a week, one whole week, of glorious, blood-free freedom. I didn't have to take my purse to the bathroom at restaurants. I didn't excessively nap. I went for walks. I didn't have to plan my day around you, Body. That was a good week.

But then yesterday happened and you decided to rear your ugly head again. I don't get what more you want, Body. I mean, I know it was a whole week between showers that last time but you just weren't smelly and I needed to be to work on time. Doesn't that get any consideration? Any at all? But I decided to nip your insolence in the bud this time. I called that lady doctor back right away. She says to stay on that slightly larger pill but that I was going to need to see a GYN and hormone specialist. Do you know how scary that sounds, Body? No, of course you don't. Because you're all "I don't want to function properly. WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" And I'm all "Shut the fuck up and start acting like you should be." I thought I raised you better than that, Body. I guess not.

A hormone specialist, though? Isn't that for ladies who wanted babies yesterday to go see? Body, I don't want babies right now. I want to be married before we start thinking babies. Besides, there's no way you could be thinking babies. No. Way. If this is some sort of internal clock thing, I'm going to be pissed. That's not to say I don't want babies ever, Body. I just don't want them right now. So you'd better be ready to make babies when I want them. I hope this isn't some revolt for the future.

I'm holding nothing back. I'm asking anyone who might know something about how I can get you back in line. Today, I emailed a friend of a friend to ask what natural steps I can take to fix you. I hope she has some answers because, for the love of God, I am at my wit's end with you, Body. It's just not fair. I stopped putting holes in you. I only got one tattoo. I don't do drugs or smoke. WHY ARE YOU BEING SUCH A JERK? You'd better have a better reason than "just 'cause" or I will punch you. Or make you work out more.

All I'm saying, Body, is that a little willingness to cooperate would make a world of difference. I don't think that's too much to ask for. But I suppose I've asked for that before and you seemed to think it was too much to ask for. At the risk of sounding insensitive and insincere I need you to know that feminine hygiene products are expensive and when you make me use three times as many as I'm supposed to, that gets even more expensive. We are in a recession. I think it's time you started thinking of me instead of stimulating the economy, Body. And I need you to know that I am tired but I need to get things done. It doesn't help that I constantly feel sick and drained and cranky and tired BECAUSE OF YOU. I have an interview to prepare for and a seminar to create and lead and a decision to make. Body, whatever is going on in there, just sort it out, okay? I don't have anymore time or energy to dote on you. I just want you to be better and I've done everything I know how to do.

I'm sorry, Body. I wanted it to work out too. But things don't go according to plan. I guess I don't need to tell you that. Do you think you can join forces with me on this one? Don't you want to be a part of a team? I mean, I think I'm pretty cool aside from the weird sense of humor and big hair. Body, I would cut that hair for you and find Team America: World Police funny if you wanted me to. At the very least, I would try. I know I can't do this all on my own, but well, I'm all you've got. You're all I've got. Imagine my dismay to find you don't want to work for this team. So, Body, if you're not going to cooperate with me, at least cooperate for the GYN and hormone specialist, who will probably be looking for problems. Just be obvious with them and tell them everything they need to know. I'm a little scared, so the more you cooperate, the better. I mean, it would be ideal if nothing was wrong but that doesn't seem to be the case anymore.

If you could clear up your issues before 25 March, all the better. It seems I'll have to just accept it if you don't. I thought I'd mention it on the off chance you were taking suggestions. Body, I've said my piece. Again. Take the hint. Suck it up. Get better. Or I'll start praying for a return policy.

Most Sincerely,

Theresa

Dear Body,

I kind of hate you a little bit right now. I've been doing the best I can to take care of you by feeding you and walking you to work and cleaning you on occasion. That being said, I expected a little more out of you. I understand, times are hard. But I don't care! That's supposed to be my excuse!

Body, we've been through it all together. I'm just asking you to meet me half way on this one. Fine, get sick. I'll put up with that. I'll give you tea and keep you warm. You can even have a pimple or two. But for the love of God, stop bleeding. A nice lady-doctor put me on a medication that she thought would be strong enough to set you straight. But no, body, no. You had to be stronger. So, after three months, each only allowing me a one week break, I called that nice lady-doctor back. And do you know what she did, Body? She put me on a stronger version of that tiny pill that seems to be defenseless against your insolence. But I have to wait for three more weeks to see if it'll do any good.

So Body, I don't think I'm asking very much when I'm asking you to stop. Please, just this once, cooperate. I'll keep feeding you. I swear I'll shower more regularly if that's what you want. I'll even shave my legs and wear shorts if that's what it will take to get you to behave. I will. I'll do it. For you. Because that's the kind of person I am. If this plea doesn't do it, I will turn to threats. Make me love you, Body. The world doesn't need one more woman out there who hates her body. Be the Body I know you can be. Be the Body I can love. Thanks for listening. I know you're tired. You and me, we're in this alone together. Or whatever.

Sincerely,

Theresa.

Only love is all maroon

Um, I suppose it's been a while since I've written. I had my tests done. I got the less invasive procedure for a few reasons. I couldn't have been happier about it. My results came back normal, which is great. I don't actually want something wrong with me. However, this means there's only one solution to the problem and I have to accept being on medication for, well, ever. I'm going in to talk to the doctor tomorrow. We'll discuss the options. Maybe this will fix the crazy? Oh, and I'll be getting my allergy test done as well.

Sky is womb and she's the moon.

I researched some graduate schools yesterday. For publishing. All the ones I found are on the east coast. I suppose location doesn't have to matter. I think I may just be tired of the thought of what comes next. I was sitting in the living room a few days ago with my roommate and kept looking out the window because one of my friends was coming over and I hadn't seen him in months. I realized, thanks to the roommate, that it's not that I'm impatient. God knows, I can be a very patient person. I'm anxious. It explains the driving thing. And the whole unsettled feeling of what I'm doing with my life. I'm anxious about what might happen or what won't. If I know something is going to happen, I don't get nervous. I become full with anticipation. I am anticipating my future. But, man, I just wish the future was here already. I wish I knew what I really wanted. I wish I knew how to get what I really wanted.

Today, I think I will tackle looking at schools for linguistics. Rather, some time this week, I think I might tackle that. Publishing or editing is really something I enjoy doing. Okay, so is linguistics. But I can make a job out of publishing. After linguistics, or before linguistics, I'll also be looking more into school where I can get a teaching degree.

Schools for publishing that show any promise at all:

Emerson College in Boston, MA

Rosemont College in Rosemont, PA

The rest on my list have a minus sign (as in, I didn't like them) or a question mark (as in, I couldn't find any information about the program on the website). I'm just looking through a printed graduate school guide and know that there is more research to be done. I think if I looked into information science, there might be more to know. Also, I believe that there's a program at University of Denver. Otherwise, why would they have a summer program, right?

I worry too much. Soon, things will happen better than I could have hoped. All this anxiety will have been for naught. I wish knowing that that was true was enough to get me out of this.

Do I really want to move to the east coast?

-Theresa