I hate the feeling of not knowing the answer.
Be it on a test, or even just in a social situation, it frustrates me to no end. It 's like jumping of a cliff and realizing you have no idea how deep the lake your about to land in is. Not only is it too late to go back, but the situation could have been avoided if only you had taken the time to think about it.
I failed my learner's test, by one question. To make matters worse, I had circled the correct answer and crossed it off thinking it wrong.
People keep asking why I'm so sick, what I have, what is wrong with me. But I don't know. The doctors don't know either. I shiver, my heart races, my temp rises and falls more than the canadian dollar has in the last two years. My parents are worried, and my coughing keeps them up at night. I wish I could promise them I really am okay. But I don't know if I'm okay.
Today we had a line test in drama. I thought I knew all my lines. I studied religiously and memorized. Every night this week.
But I forgot to highlight a line. Forgot to remember it. Forgot to say it.
And I Hate the feeling of not knowing an answer.
Showing posts with label Sick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sick. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Pneumonia is the word... among others
Dear Sickie Sympathiser,
Now it's important that we are all on the same page, be that web page or maybe just metaphorically, but I have been ill for months.
It started with a throat infection during an extraordinary band competition in May, grew exam week in June, dominated the fabulous road trip to the mountains with my best friend, prospered all the way past my birthday week until this very day. Before my doctor had taken the time to do a chest X-ray last Thursday, we had no idea what could be wrong. The blood work ruled out mono, anemia and the dreaded H1 N1 virus, but provided no relief. My doctor prescribed an inhaler for my cough, and mom made threats with chicken noodle soup. This year I was planing to join the cross country team and maybe try to be sporty despite my disabling klutzyness which had landed me in an ambulance a couple years previous. This year I thought it would be different.
Friday morning dashed those hopes with a ninja karate chop to the metaphorical groin. The maternal unit received a phone call from the doc diagnosing me with a worse-than-grounding fate. I have between a moderate and a severe case of pneumonia. That means antibiotics the size of horse pills three times a day and limited physical activity. In other words, no running.
Which is sort-of funny, because up to about two weeks ago I was still going for six km excursions in under thirty one minutes. That's about five point one minutes to a klick. I feel pretty good about that, considering my lungs are filled with fluid.
I've had it for months without knowing and have been lucky enough to relatively normally (with a bad cough, chills, head aches and inexplicably chest pains). My pharmacist aunt said the reason I was able to last this long without medical assistance was because of running and staying in physical shape. My friend Oliver, skied in the cold air of the north for such a long time, his throat and lungs became stronger and he no longer gets asthma attacks. But if you are sick, do not take your life into your own hands and run a marathon to beat your respiratory ailment. Know however, an illness is only a word. With the help of a medical practitioner, family and friend's support as well as determination, it won't break you. it may hold you back or delay you, but don't ever let it stop you.
Words are often open to interpretation, so our opinions may differ my gentle reader. In the spirit of vocabulary, here is an Arctic dictionary.
Arctic Hipster: noun
A person who actively practices hippie-like behavior in a north of sixty climate, be that through ideals, environmental awareness, enjoyment of psychedelic music, political opposition, freedom of speech, peaceful aura's, "making love not war", planting trees, food choices and just fighting the power so as not to lose that old fashion free spirit which defines Hippies everywhere.
Inspirational Explosion: Noun
The result of an inspirational happening, encounter, conversation or it might even just happen haphazardly. A burst of ideas free flowing to an individual in a disorganized, un-scheduled, often inconvenient and confusing way. Nevertheless, it can be moving and should be treated with a hot date with a pen and paper until the explosion subsides. Inspirational explosions end as quickly and randomly as they start. Therefore chronic sufferers should keep writing utensils at hand in case of emergencies.
Old towne: Noun and adjective
1. The part of our town that is closest to the boat launch, docks ext. Stereotypically home to very wholesome people who have lived on that side of our fair city for many generations and will probably continue to do so. We joke that in old towne rotate cutlery because it's such a limited amount of people, who often find themselves attending all the same events, belonging to the same clubs and living about the same virtuous lifestyle ie Eating lentils and rice while discussing the benefits of children having a say about politics.
Example : So on friday the Smiths have the spoons and all they eat is soup
My friend Emily does not appreciate this so much because she lives there. However we are a teasing bunch and she tolerates it like a team player. That's why we love her and the whole Old townie gang.
2. A title used for anything wholesome, ethical, homemade, ridiculously heathy, terribly good-for-you, or anyone mature and sensible.
Example: "You knitted your own socks?! How incredibly old towne!"
Mother in Greek: Meter, Dutch: Moeder ,German: Mutter and Latin: Mater
Peter Pan syndrome: Illness
A state where a person refuses or cannot grow up. They lack either the want to mature or the capacity to accept the natural order where people must change and mature in order to continue with their lives. Symptoms include temper tantrums, reckless spending and behavior, immature responses to responsibility ie: You and what army ?, refusing to accept events or facts that are unchangeable, believing all problems will be fixed by someone else, thinking that "Wendy" can just leave her whole life behind her without feeling any sort of attachment. Also has a positive side, people who suffer from Peter Pan syndrome often indulge in childlike luxuries such as afternoon naps, may have cookie addictions, may color to unwind as well as laugh often.
Example: "Stacy suffers from Peter Pan syndrome. She has been watching all the "Land Before Time" movies for the past twenty four hours. We're starting to worry."
Randomly Lovely: Noun and adjective
1. Used to describe something that is out of the ordinary, a pleasant surprise or an unexpectedly wonderful thing.
Example: It's pouring rain and you have been standing at an intersection waiting for the light to change for five minutes. You are soaked, but a stranger in a car rolls down their window and offers to drive beside you so you can cross with out being run over. You make it across and the kind stranger continues on their way.
2. A blog written by a teenager in hopes to start her career as an author about things that are just as the name suggests, randomly lovely.
To expanded vocabulary and determination,
Arctic Hipster
Now it's important that we are all on the same page, be that web page or maybe just metaphorically, but I have been ill for months.
It started with a throat infection during an extraordinary band competition in May, grew exam week in June, dominated the fabulous road trip to the mountains with my best friend, prospered all the way past my birthday week until this very day. Before my doctor had taken the time to do a chest X-ray last Thursday, we had no idea what could be wrong. The blood work ruled out mono, anemia and the dreaded H1 N1 virus, but provided no relief. My doctor prescribed an inhaler for my cough, and mom made threats with chicken noodle soup. This year I was planing to join the cross country team and maybe try to be sporty despite my disabling klutzyness which had landed me in an ambulance a couple years previous. This year I thought it would be different.
Friday morning dashed those hopes with a ninja karate chop to the metaphorical groin. The maternal unit received a phone call from the doc diagnosing me with a worse-than-grounding fate. I have between a moderate and a severe case of pneumonia. That means antibiotics the size of horse pills three times a day and limited physical activity. In other words, no running.
Which is sort-of funny, because up to about two weeks ago I was still going for six km excursions in under thirty one minutes. That's about five point one minutes to a klick. I feel pretty good about that, considering my lungs are filled with fluid.
I've had it for months without knowing and have been lucky enough to relatively normally (with a bad cough, chills, head aches and inexplicably chest pains). My pharmacist aunt said the reason I was able to last this long without medical assistance was because of running and staying in physical shape. My friend Oliver, skied in the cold air of the north for such a long time, his throat and lungs became stronger and he no longer gets asthma attacks. But if you are sick, do not take your life into your own hands and run a marathon to beat your respiratory ailment. Know however, an illness is only a word. With the help of a medical practitioner, family and friend's support as well as determination, it won't break you. it may hold you back or delay you, but don't ever let it stop you.
Words are often open to interpretation, so our opinions may differ my gentle reader. In the spirit of vocabulary, here is an Arctic dictionary.
Arctic Hipster: noun
A person who actively practices hippie-like behavior in a north of sixty climate, be that through ideals, environmental awareness, enjoyment of psychedelic music, political opposition, freedom of speech, peaceful aura's, "making love not war", planting trees, food choices and just fighting the power so as not to lose that old fashion free spirit which defines Hippies everywhere.
Inspirational Explosion: Noun
The result of an inspirational happening, encounter, conversation or it might even just happen haphazardly. A burst of ideas free flowing to an individual in a disorganized, un-scheduled, often inconvenient and confusing way. Nevertheless, it can be moving and should be treated with a hot date with a pen and paper until the explosion subsides. Inspirational explosions end as quickly and randomly as they start. Therefore chronic sufferers should keep writing utensils at hand in case of emergencies.
Old towne: Noun and adjective
1. The part of our town that is closest to the boat launch, docks ext. Stereotypically home to very wholesome people who have lived on that side of our fair city for many generations and will probably continue to do so. We joke that in old towne rotate cutlery because it's such a limited amount of people, who often find themselves attending all the same events, belonging to the same clubs and living about the same virtuous lifestyle ie Eating lentils and rice while discussing the benefits of children having a say about politics.
Example : So on friday the Smiths have the spoons and all they eat is soup
My friend Emily does not appreciate this so much because she lives there. However we are a teasing bunch and she tolerates it like a team player. That's why we love her and the whole Old townie gang.
2. A title used for anything wholesome, ethical, homemade, ridiculously heathy, terribly good-for-you, or anyone mature and sensible.
Example: "You knitted your own socks?! How incredibly old towne!"
Parental Units: Noun
A term used to describe parents. Most mothers and fathers do not appreciate this term however (Why is beyond me) and prefer to be called mother and father.
Synonym: Vadder, Mum, Dad, Mom, Pops, "Da boss lady", Maternal unit, Paternal Unit, female parent , materfamilias , matriarch, mom , mommy , ma , mama, pa, Male parent, xy chromosome, xx chromosome, the bearer of children, Your maker, Parentals
Example: "Yeah, the parental units grounded me this weekend."
Peter Pan syndrome: Illness
A state where a person refuses or cannot grow up. They lack either the want to mature or the capacity to accept the natural order where people must change and mature in order to continue with their lives. Symptoms include temper tantrums, reckless spending and behavior, immature responses to responsibility ie: You and what army ?, refusing to accept events or facts that are unchangeable, believing all problems will be fixed by someone else, thinking that "Wendy" can just leave her whole life behind her without feeling any sort of attachment. Also has a positive side, people who suffer from Peter Pan syndrome often indulge in childlike luxuries such as afternoon naps, may have cookie addictions, may color to unwind as well as laugh often.
Example: "Stacy suffers from Peter Pan syndrome. She has been watching all the "Land Before Time" movies for the past twenty four hours. We're starting to worry."
Randomly Lovely: Noun and adjective
1. Used to describe something that is out of the ordinary, a pleasant surprise or an unexpectedly wonderful thing.
Example: It's pouring rain and you have been standing at an intersection waiting for the light to change for five minutes. You are soaked, but a stranger in a car rolls down their window and offers to drive beside you so you can cross with out being run over. You make it across and the kind stranger continues on their way.
2. A blog written by a teenager in hopes to start her career as an author about things that are just as the name suggests, randomly lovely.
To expanded vocabulary and determination,
Arctic Hipster
Monday, August 31, 2009
A not-so joyful trip to the hospital
This morning they stuck me. Mom woke me up at the painfully early seven am and rushed me around so we could be the first in line at the hospital admittance desk.
When we arrived the place smelled of disinfectant and fear. But perhaps that was just me. My mother filled out some forms at the front desk. I contemplated my options. The lobby was close to the entrance, not to far off from where we were. If I sprinted I could be out of here in no time flat. Maybe I could smash the container of a fake potted plant as a distraction.
Before I could make a move, Mom bounded over to where I was sitting with a smile. My mom is pretty, with her curly blonde hair and womanly figure. She's only five foot but can pack a punch. I didn't want to feel her wrath while I was still half dead to the world.
It was hardly five past eight but the sun shone mockingly through the windows in the hallway leading to the labratory. It's if they were laughing at the fact I would be stuck inside a small waiting room without windows, on a glorious summer's day. The sad part is school starts in two days, but I'm so sick I can't bend over without getting light headed.
My mother was sort oblivious to my laboured breathing caused by being congested in the nose and throat areas. She motered it all the way to the lab without turning back. This would have probably been the best time for a clever getaway, but I was half down the hallway already. Turning around would have taken energy that I didn't have.
Sitting in the lab waiting room was awful. Every time the nurse came out of her little cubical to call out the name or the next victim... er patient, my whole body seized up. It was as if my arm knew it was about to be violated by a sharp metal object because it began to twitch. Which was sort of frightening.
Then the moment came. The nurse stepped out and called my name. My heart pounded against my rib cage. I got up slowly and marched as if it was my exacution. Suddenly the room seemed to crowded, the air too hot.
I read somewhere that when people become overly frightened they begin to get hysterical. That would explain why I started jabbering away as the nurse closed the door. She held my arm and used a band to push all the skin to the inside of my elbow. My voice got more high pitched the more she played with medical equipment on the counter beside me. I decided not not look at her just in case I caught a glimpse of the needle.
She responded with clam "mhmm"s whenever I asked her if she understood what I was saying because I just was so terrified of needles and if I yelled at her or maybe thought some terrible thoughts about her it really was not her fault I just was scared silly and did not like sharp pointy things going into my arm and sucking out my blood like a vampire... And that's when I felt a sharp pain just below the band she had placed on my arm.
It definitively was not a pleasant experience feeling my blood drain trickling out into a tube, but it was necessary and I survived. Perhaps in the future we will discover a way to make certain diagnosis' with saliva. That way, all patients would have to do would be to suck on a lollipop and doctors could analyze that. A sweet alternative to blood work.
For now I'm bearing the pain of a sore arm with a smile, because hopefully all this uncertainty will soon be over.
In high spirits and low iron levels,
Arctic Hipster
When we arrived the place smelled of disinfectant and fear. But perhaps that was just me. My mother filled out some forms at the front desk. I contemplated my options. The lobby was close to the entrance, not to far off from where we were. If I sprinted I could be out of here in no time flat. Maybe I could smash the container of a fake potted plant as a distraction.
Before I could make a move, Mom bounded over to where I was sitting with a smile. My mom is pretty, with her curly blonde hair and womanly figure. She's only five foot but can pack a punch. I didn't want to feel her wrath while I was still half dead to the world.
It was hardly five past eight but the sun shone mockingly through the windows in the hallway leading to the labratory. It's if they were laughing at the fact I would be stuck inside a small waiting room without windows, on a glorious summer's day. The sad part is school starts in two days, but I'm so sick I can't bend over without getting light headed.
My mother was sort oblivious to my laboured breathing caused by being congested in the nose and throat areas. She motered it all the way to the lab without turning back. This would have probably been the best time for a clever getaway, but I was half down the hallway already. Turning around would have taken energy that I didn't have.
Sitting in the lab waiting room was awful. Every time the nurse came out of her little cubical to call out the name or the next victim... er patient, my whole body seized up. It was as if my arm knew it was about to be violated by a sharp metal object because it began to twitch. Which was sort of frightening.
Then the moment came. The nurse stepped out and called my name. My heart pounded against my rib cage. I got up slowly and marched as if it was my exacution. Suddenly the room seemed to crowded, the air too hot.
I read somewhere that when people become overly frightened they begin to get hysterical. That would explain why I started jabbering away as the nurse closed the door. She held my arm and used a band to push all the skin to the inside of my elbow. My voice got more high pitched the more she played with medical equipment on the counter beside me. I decided not not look at her just in case I caught a glimpse of the needle.
She responded with clam "mhmm"s whenever I asked her if she understood what I was saying because I just was so terrified of needles and if I yelled at her or maybe thought some terrible thoughts about her it really was not her fault I just was scared silly and did not like sharp pointy things going into my arm and sucking out my blood like a vampire... And that's when I felt a sharp pain just below the band she had placed on my arm.
It definitively was not a pleasant experience feeling my blood drain trickling out into a tube, but it was necessary and I survived. Perhaps in the future we will discover a way to make certain diagnosis' with saliva. That way, all patients would have to do would be to suck on a lollipop and doctors could analyze that. A sweet alternative to blood work.
For now I'm bearing the pain of a sore arm with a smile, because hopefully all this uncertainty will soon be over.
In high spirits and low iron levels,
Arctic Hipster
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Alas! The virus is attacking! Start the tea kettle! Man the tissue box! Skip the....chicken noodle soup?
That's right. I've fallen victim to the oldest form of super villain, the not-so-common cold. The reasoning for calling it that is because doctors have tried to diagnose me to no avail.
Apparently the symptoms I'm suffering from are all across the board ; sore throat to killer cramps and a splitting head ache, and could fall under numerous categories for illnesses. Leaving me feeling like a science experiment. The latest theory has me scheduled for a blood test. Tomorrow the lucky people at the hospital will use my fore arm as a pin cushion. Perhaps you can read the lack of excitement expressed in that last statement?
The argument is that the vile containing my life water will be analysed, and will narrow down the possibilities, finally giving us some sort of idea what we're dealing with. However, I'm not the most logical person when it comes to these sort of things. I prefer to have my body fluids where they belong, in my body. Yes, I'm actually quite happy with them circulating in my person like they are suppose to. Not in some lab getting picked apart by a medical practitioner. That's the natural reaction is it not? For some reason I doubt there is anyone who would readily subject themselves to this sort of examination.
Meanwhile, while I'm feeling like the black death warmed up, it's a lovely twenty three degrees outside.
Cruel, oh so cruel.
At least there is blogging right? I write this as my feverish hands slip off the keys due to sweat. That was discusting, ha ha. Sometimes in sheer desperatos you can't help but laugh. The only down side is now I'm hoarking up a lung, which oddly enough makes me laugh harder.
Apparently the symptoms I'm suffering from are all across the board ; sore throat to killer cramps and a splitting head ache, and could fall under numerous categories for illnesses. Leaving me feeling like a science experiment. The latest theory has me scheduled for a blood test. Tomorrow the lucky people at the hospital will use my fore arm as a pin cushion. Perhaps you can read the lack of excitement expressed in that last statement?
The argument is that the vile containing my life water will be analysed, and will narrow down the possibilities, finally giving us some sort of idea what we're dealing with. However, I'm not the most logical person when it comes to these sort of things. I prefer to have my body fluids where they belong, in my body. Yes, I'm actually quite happy with them circulating in my person like they are suppose to. Not in some lab getting picked apart by a medical practitioner. That's the natural reaction is it not? For some reason I doubt there is anyone who would readily subject themselves to this sort of examination.
Meanwhile, while I'm feeling like the black death warmed up, it's a lovely twenty three degrees outside.
Cruel, oh so cruel.
At least there is blogging right? I write this as my feverish hands slip off the keys due to sweat. That was discusting, ha ha. Sometimes in sheer desperatos you can't help but laugh. The only down side is now I'm hoarking up a lung, which oddly enough makes me laugh harder.
Must be my meds.
Hopefully none of you are ill at this time. If you are, I bequeath my kleenex box to you.
Arctic Hipster
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