Couple of Things


First of all, online life, I’ve not forgotten about you.  I’ve not committed cyber suicide.  It’s just that real life, for once in its pansy-ass little way, has taken control for a bit.  I felt compelled this morning, though, after a fitful night of cats yowling and chewing on things they know they ought not to chew on, keeping me awake and generally irritating the piss out of me, heartburn on the scale of California wildfire, and concern over the fading vision in my left eye, to check in.

Yeah.  I’m not even going to go into it with the cats.  Let’s just say that my shit list, which is extensive and formidable, gained three names and had one underlined last night in dark, dark black ink.  Mike’s cat, I’m looking at you.  Also, to Bill, Wickett, and Lily, my dear furkids, you are all going to burn in kitty cat Hell for one year for every single cord you chewed last night.  I’m not sure what’s gotten into you all, but I’m about done with each of you.

I’m losing vision in my left eye.  Have been for the past two weeks.  Finally saw an Opthamologist yesterday, expecting to be told to man up and deal with the wavy, blurry water spot that has made reading and writing particularly troublesome and is now growing to distort faces and prevent me from driving.  Instead I was told “well, you’re not imagining it.”  I really thought it was just a side effect of all the swelling and water retention that my body has been engaging in lately.  I thought it would go away after delivery.  Turns out, I thought wrong.

Turns out, in fact, that at some point in my life I inhaled mold spores from dirt contaminated by the poop of either chickens, bats, or starlings.  I’m hoping it was bats, just because they are by far the coolest and actually aren’t even birds.  I’d even be okay with Starlings, because of their association with “The Silence of the Lambs” and the fact that they’re really quite pretty, although they make pests of themselves at the feeder.  But more than likely, as a child, I inhaled airborne moldy chicken poop, because I used to play in empty chicken pens as a kid.  Growing up on a farm.  Good times.

Well, it turns out that the infection you get as a result of inhaling the scat of fowl, called Histoplasmosis, actually causes nothing more than cold and flu-like symptoms and then basically goes away.  No big deal.  Oh, except for the fact that it leaves scars on one’s retinas that eventually, in an unlucky few of us (ahem…me), cause vision loss.  Awesome.

Add to that the fact that my pelvis threatens daily to snap under the weight of the twins – currently around six pounds each with five weeks to go – like the wishbone from a Thanksgiving turkey.  Remind me, sometime, to talk about the irony of using a piece of the meal eaten (in popular understanding) to celebrate what we have, in order to wish for more.  Yeah, America.  Awesome logic there…

I’m just about over being pregnant.  It was all fun and games up to this point, but now misery has set in like arthritis and I’m not a happy girl.  I get to go this morning – when I should be enjoying my morning nap, to be injected with a dye that will turn everything – including the whites of my eyes and my urine – canary yellow.  Then there’s going to be some more photos taken of my retina and a hard conversation will be had about whether I’d rather have my eye burned by a laser or injected with stem cells…Gone are the days when the toughest decision was whether I wanted white or chocolate milk with my chicken nuggets.  *sigh*

So that’s my life at this point.  I’m currently typing with my left eye snapped shut.  I’ve gotten good at doing most everything with it closed.  It’s very annoying, and a bummer to have vision loss at the age of 28.

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