An Update

I thought I’d do an update for all of you while I’m at a lull in grossness.  My fever broke, so I’m kind of sort of back to normal (yay!).  Unfortunately, that left me with the vomitatious problem.  I was so sick last night, and this morning/afternoon. I felt a bit better around noon when I had to go to the oncologist, so at least I could get there and get home without any problems. I also ran an errand (I bought a rat to feed my snake – he’s not eaten in like, 12 weeks, so I’m glad he finally ate), saw Jason and Mackenzie, and came home in time to pass out once more on the couch.  Slept for a few hours, had some dinner with Sean (thank you!).  I have been informed that I am very anemic right now, and my wbc count is too high (surprised? me neither).  So, I have to eat red meat.  I don’t LIKE red meat.  In fact, the only animals consumed in this house can fly or swim.  Sean and I went to dinner to get meat (since I refuse to cook it) and I got about 1/3 of the way through steak, salad and potatoes.  Mmm, all good things (minus the steak).  It wasn’t that bad, to be honest, and I took the rest home. I’m proud of what I ate, actually.  I only threw up a minimal amount of it tonight after we got back and played video games for awhile.

He left, and then I talked to my sister on the phone for a good 90 mins or so since I’ve not seen her (the horrors of having a car when she does not, and not living together…and living across town).  She’s good 🙂  Towards the end of our conversation, I felt worse and worse.  Afterwards, I prayed to the porcelain god for awhile, and napped on the bathroom floor (mmm, reminds me of frat parties – but not MY behaviour!).  Since then, I’ve been up and down, brushing my teeth like crazy into the bathtub since the change in altitude is terrible.  I thought about calling Sean because I’m incapable of dragging myself up (I have my laptop with me, which is actually perched sideways being cradled by a towel so I don’t have to get up from the fetal position… the things I do for you people!).  I may call him still.  I texted him saying something like, “Sooo sick, can’t get up, might need help” or something, but he has class at eight, and I don’t want to make it worse for him.  It’s already nearly half four.  Half four! That’s ridiculous.

Ok, there’s your update.  Fever’s kind of gone, hair is falling out in poofs, throwing up all over the place, curled up on the bathroom floor like after a good party, but without all the fun drinking involved.

Wish I could get my back rubbed 😛

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In the hospital

So, Sean and Ashley both said I should see the doctor on monday because my jaw hurt like none other. Thursday night, I was reduced to tears because it hurt so much, and I finally took some percocet at Sean’s insistence. I just ended up being higher than a kite for the rest of the evening, rather ill, and babbling incoherently. I was better in the morning, but my jaw still hurt on and off, and I was feeling warm. My jaw seized up for a few hours, which was uncomfortable. I was okay by the time I went to play Bunco with the church choir (yeah, I have exciting Friday nights), and I had SOOOO much fun. So, shuttup all ya’ll who think that’s lame.

Around 3:30-4 am, long after Sean and Stephanie had left my house, I started to get delirious and dizzy, and I totally freaked out. I tried to call my next door neighbour, Stefanie (different than the one above), but my phone didn’t work. So, I banged on her front door until she opened it, and she took me to the hospital. I was there all night, hooked up to various machines, and there were four or five bags hanging above me for various reasons. I apparently know Star Trek’s TNG pretty well, because I was mumbling about that, and I hallucinated that I saw Worf in a codpiece with triangular hair. Ooh, and I told the nurses to call David Bowie, since he’s apparently my father (according to Sean, anyways). I was coherent and aware of everything by 11:30 this morning, and felt a lot better. They killed my fever, thankfully, and they let me leave on the condition I didn’t do crap.

I have a party at 9 pm tonight, then I’m supposed to work at midnight until eight. Then I have choir from 8-10:30, and then again tomorrow night at 7. I’m insane. I may call off the party, and I can sleep at work. Wow, I’m seriously retarded. But, working isn’t really doing anything since we never get calls at night. We’ll see. Anyone who cares to yell at me is welcome to in the comments field.

Gaining Confidence

I’ve had a lot of people ask about how to gain confidence to wear hijab, or ask some guy out, or how to be a better person.  I’ll let you in on a secret: gaining confidence is hard.  But, even if you aren’t confident, what you project is what people pick up on.

Here’s an example: I have little to no hair right now.  It’s like a Demi Moore GI Jane or Natalie Portman V for Vendetta thing. Very short, and little white dots are starting to show up on my scalp (no, they aren’t really visible unless you’re looking, but I know they’re there.)  It’s hard, yes.  I think I look like a freak.  I had gorgeous, thick, espresso-coloured hair which was naturally wavy, but not in a bad way. (My Irish genes gave me awesome colouring. Thanks, random Irish relative!)  Now that I have little to no hair, it’s hard for me to look people in the eye because my brain is telling me they just think I’m a lesbian.

Ok, lets back the train up.  Here is WHY I think that.  I was at Safeway on Sunday (after I left work early because I felt like hammered shit), minding my own business in the pasta section, and a little kid pulls on his mum’s shirt sleeve.  He asks her, rather loudly, “Why does the lady have no hair?”  His mum answers, “It’s her life choice, sweetheart.”  CANCER is my LIFE CHOICE?!  Are you effing nuts?  Did I WANT this?  No.  It sucks.  I throw up everyday, I’m tired all the time, my breathing is hard because I have a fucking tumor against my left lung, and I get hot/cold flashes, night sweats, my skin is breaking out, I’m stressed out because I don’t want people to be worried about me, and all the while, I’m constantly reminded that I have cancer because I have to take at least seven, if not more, pills every morning, on top of the needle tracks from the chemo (which is my fault since I refused the central line due to its hindrance of fencing, cycling, and all things athletic… that I can’t really do anyhow.)  Sorry, got a bit upset for a second.  Ok, so I ignored the little boy’s comment, passing him off as a curious four-year-old with a loud mouth.  (Note: My mum would NEVER have let me get away with that. My ass would be grass.)

I’m perusing the bbq sauce section next, and a little girl (mind, this is two minutes later) looks up at me with her mouth agape, and asks her mum, “Why is the white lady bald?”  Seriously?  C’mon now, give me an effing break.  Her mum had the sense to smack her upside the head and say, “That is RUDE. Never say that again!”  Best part: I bent down until I was six inches from the girl’s face and said, “I have cancer – my hair is falling out because of all the chemo.”  Her mum nearly died right there.  I hope she and her daughter had a long talk about it afterwards.

So, what was my point?  Oh yes, gaining confidence.  I’m confident that people think I’m a lesbian (remember the “it’s her life choice” comment?), and I don’t really feel pretty right now.  I have a very pretty face (my mum reassured me on the phone this afternoon), and being bald is okay as long as I have my bubbly personality.  Well, I have to project the idea that I’m a) not feeling like death all the time, and b) that I’m okay with how I look, if not perfectly accepting.  As long as I do that, I look like I have confidence.

My advice is this: if you can convince others that you’re confident, it’s only a matter of time until you actually feel confident as well.  Some people say this is lying to yourself, but I don’t really think it is.  People react to how you present yourself.  If you present yourself with an air of confidence, they will in turn actually think you’re confident and treat you as such.  And therefore, because they’re treating you like you’re confident, you actually become that way.

Ok, yeah, it’s 5:45 am, and I’ve not slept yet.  Sean came over and we watched Colbert Report and South Park, then had a serious conversation about how the cracker becomes Jesus and isn’t just a cracker, my poor taste in men, and how I react to how people react to me having cancer (ie: again with the projection and crap).  If I project a strong outlook, and take it in stride (as I have, truthfully, been doing), then people won’t feel so sorry for me, or be worried about me. *sigh* I’d rather they just leave me alone, personally.  I can take care of myself! *grumbles*

This is kind of long-winded, isn’t it?  I should probably go to sleep before I have to take my pills, since I’m not supposed to sleep after I’ve taken them – something about how they burn holes in my kidneys and bladder, and I’m supposed to pee them out.  Not sure, but I know I’m tired.  Nite nite then.

Drunken texts.

You know, it’s really flattering if a guy sends you drunken texts declaring his love for you, because usually that means he actually does like you, but wouldn’t admit it to you sober.  But, it really sucks when you realise he actually thinks you’re someone else, and then it’s all meaningless.  I mean, I can’t do anything about it anyways, but it’s nice when it happens.  Like I’ve told several people: just because I’m Muslim doesn’t mean I’m dead from the neck down.  *sigh*

Sleepytime

It’s hard to believe that I’ve stayed up until 5:30 am each day for about 3 days straight now. Mon/Wed/Fri is particularly problematic because I have class at 8, so I have to usually get up at 6:30 so I can shower and have breakfast and find parking (*sigh*). So what do I do at night that keeps me up so late? I read a lot. I’ve also discovered a show called “Chuck”, which I think is on NBC. But I downloaded the first half of season 1 on iTunes, and it’s such an excellent show. Best purchase I’ve made in quite a long time. I also watch 24 (I’ve got 6 seasons worth to wade through), and I love The Office (omg so funny). So I watch a lot of downloaded tv shows, and read depressingly long books (War and Peace, anyone?). I sometimes do homework, when I feel like it. It’s just been a long day, usually. (Oh, note: All 3 dispatchers are left handed – we should have a lefty club).

Douchebags.

You’ve seen them. Popped collar, faux tan, jaunty hat, abercrombie all over, reeks of TAG, and with hot, hot women. Well, tonight I was shown the most amazing site in all of internetland.

Hot Chicks with Douchebags

Here is a small taste of the comment section of this website:

Hey Mike, we’ve greased our hair into tiny, marginally-gay fauxhawks, I’ve got my murse and you’ve got your bling. What else can we do to make ourselves more appealing to the Stepford Wife-wannabes at the roller rink?

How about we paint our faces the color of overcooked sweet potatoes, Joe?

You’re a genius, Mike. Hand me that can of TAG.

I think I need to go to the hospital I was laughing so hard. My poor, poor xiphoid process.

Nearly 7 am… still’ve not slept.

So, I’m on a very, very bad sleep schedule at the moment. I’ve been up all night, and I sleep much of the day (quite like a Vampire, my sister pointed out, I believe). So here I am, buttcrack of dawn, and what have I accomplished? I made a new family on the Sims, and I prayed my fajr prayer. Fajr means morning in Arabic, I think… you’d think someone who took Arabic and got a B would know that, but nooooo, I still know nothing. I speak more Afrikaans than Arabic, dankie. (Ik en ontsteld dat ek kan nie slaap.)  You know, fajr prayer is the prayer I do consistently despite the early hour of the morning? It’s so easy to wake up, do wudu’, and then pray, and fall back into bed. Next quarter I won’t have that luxury because I have class at 8 (painful!).

On another note, The Special One turned down the FA today. I knew he would, but there was a diehard part of me that really, really wanted him to take the team to new levels. He said some nice words, but they fell on deaf ears as Britons everywhere realised we’re now stuck with a bunch of Italians. (See earlier post regarding Mourinho and Italian football manager Fabio Capello.) Seems as though he and Marcello Lippi are the two favourites for the job. Most of you will remember Capello for his… exploits… last year. Lippi, on the other hand, was the reason Italy won the World Cup in 2006. Yes, Marcello Lippi is the badass that brought Italy to their victory. Do I smell a victory for England? You bet your dinges I do.

Writing about footy at seven am is NEVER a good idea. Going to sleep.