3 posts tagged “real life”
Okay, so I left you all hanging back on Part I with departing from Fragrance Lake.
I went back to work and a couple days later my ear is aching bad. It gets all red and starts puffing up. So I figured... crap I managed to get something in my ear that got it all infected and now I have an ear infection. So I run up to Chek-Medical (a walk-in chain clinic that is no longer in existence... I'm probably living proof why as you will see) and I report that I have pain in my ear and swelling.
The put me in a room, they have me strip down and hand me what amounts to a backless paper towel for a gown. A lady doctor comes in, gives me a PAP and rams a finger up my bung hole. I'm laying there uncomfortably with K-Y oozing out of places it never should have been in the first place when the doctor tells me everything looks to be in order and wants to know if I need a doctor's note for work.
I kind of look at her puzzled and inform her that I was in there for MY EAR, not my rear. She picks up my folder and I notice that it's not even my freakin' name on it. She gets a puzzled look on her face, gets up with the folder and walks out. A nurse comes in later and tells me I can put my clothes back on and that the Doctor will be with me shortly. A different Doc comes in and puts one of those ear thingies in my ear, takes all of 2 minutes looking in my ear and orders the nurse to give me a shot in the ass of antibiotics. The Doctor says I have an ear infection and the harpoon the nurse is ramming into my ass cheek should take care of it, if I should feel worse in three days I should come back for re-examination.
Three days later and I now have a fever of 102, my ear is literally twice it's normal size... think like a big bright pink cartoon balloon ear. That's what I was sporting. So I go back into Chek Med, and big surprise, I get another new doctor. This one looks in my ear, pokes the outside of the swollen lobe and asks me if that hurts... I am freaking welling up with tears and wanting to put my balled up fist in his crotch with force from the pain I am feeling from his poking. I get TWO more shots of antibiotics and a prescription for Cipro... you know the stuff they use to treat anthrax victims. They give me the strongest prescription available, 14 horse-pills, twice a day. I was told that the Cipro will kill anything in my system within a day or two.
Cipro has some seriously strong side effects. Keep in mind that not only do I now have Cipro coursing through my veins, I also have three antibiotic injections of unknown properties that have been and probably still were coursing through my system at that point. So keep this in mind, it will be important later.
So another three days go by and my fever is up to 103 without a break, I am really sick. My ear was so swollen it was as big as the palm part of your hand and the swelling had now gone down into my cheek, neck and up by my eye. This antibiotic crap is not working. I go to the Emergency Room because I felt like I was going to die, they set up an emergency appointment for me to go in and be treated by an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist. Woohoo! Finally someone who knows WTF they are doing! So I get over to this specialists office and they usher me in right away. He picks up one of those pointy ear looky devices and he goes "Oh my. Oh my. Hmmm, do you know what is happening in your head young lady?"
Of course, I do not know, if I had known I could have probably gotten fixed long before this fiasco.
So before I can answer him, he has me laid down with my head sideways and the swollen ear pointing to heaven above. He breaks out this mini vacuum and some long slender tongs and what looks like a mini speculum. Yep... it's a speculum alright, he wedges it into my ear hole (which is all but closed shut from the swelling) and he starts suctioning out my ear.
Now for anyone who has ever endured having their ears cleaned out like this.... imagine you have the feeling of a high power vacuum sucking out your eyeball from behind. You can feel the changes in pressure throughout your entire head. It's a rather uncomfortable experience to say the least.
The I smell something. Something rotten, like beer and vinegar mixed together. I feel something move through my ear toward the opening, whatever it is, it is big and it hurts and it freaking STINKS! I feel all the pressure in my ear suddenly release as whatever is in the Doctor's tongs is freed from my ear with a soft sounding *thuuup*
He bends over towards my face with a smile on his face and brings the tongs up to where I can see what it is. The smell of it makes my head involuntarily jerk back from the repulsive stench... and here I thought it smelled bad when he was pulling it out! He says "Well, my girl, you had a mushroom growing in your ear, how about that"
Sure enough... there was this mushroom of sorts, all squished, dark brown and slimy looking. Not the kind you would want in your salad or in your brown gravy... but a forest fungus mushroom. Ewwww! So I told him about swimming in the lake, and he said that there were probably spores from mushrooms in the forest that were in the water and they found a nice warm, dark and moist place in my ear to start a little mushroom patch. Oh goody! Only, thankfully, my body was having none of that nonsense and made like it had an infection to try and force the shroomage out of my head. Hence all the fever, swelling and pain I had to endure up to this point.
We were both puzzled as to why Chek Medical never referred me to an Ears, Nose and Throat specialist right away. He said that given the time that had passed and the size of the mushroom that there was no way in hell they didn't see it in there when they looked inside. Who knows... my story and probably many others who were misdiagnosed there are the reasons why that place is no longer in existence. Although, I do still wonder what was wrong with the woman whose chart was wrongfully with me on that first visit. The woman whose chart got my special orifices needlessly examined.
So he informs me to finish out my Cipro prescription and reassures me that it is a good antibiotic and should kill off any residual after effects, we schedule a follow up appointment for a week later and I go on my merry mushroom-free way.
Within hours my temperature returned to normal and the swelling on my face and ear was starting to subside. It couldn't have happened at a better time because in a couple days it would be Halloween and that was the day of my friends wedding!!!
Holy Ear Mushrooms, Batman... it looks like we need to leave off once again before this gets too long to hold your attention. We are gonna have to make this one a Trilogy. I know, I know... I'm terrible, but I promise you that in the end it will be worth it, so I promise the third part will be the final chapter. It's a story that needs to be told the right way, you guys and gals deserve nothing less :)
I know I owe you the rest of the poo story, it's coming, I promise :)
I had to jump in and interject something that just happened to me less than 30 minutes ago. I think it is worth it to share and interrupt the poo story's progression thus far. Hopefully you will agree with me once the tale is told.
This is em-bare-assing. Pun totally intended.
Like all stories, we must back track a bit and fill you in on a little back story.
Earlier this last summer I started noticing that I was a fatass, I mean I knew I had put on some pounds over the few years, what with working with food and all. But I did not bother to put said fatass on a scale. So come late November I purchased a crappy scale and got on it.
GAD ZUKES!
Surely the crappy scale was lying to me! I calibrated it, got on it again. And again. And Again. Either that was a really crappy lying scale or I truely was a tub of lard. I was F-A-T!!!!
I knew that dieting through the Holidays would be like herding cats, so I decided to do what everyone does and do the whole New Year/New Start. Along with the help of my Better Half, my good friend Denice and even my Mom I had rallied a gang of support to help me get my fat ass into the gym that I had been paying for for the past 3 years and just not going to.
Once I spent a week in the gym, I talked to a trainer there and decided to give some professional sessions a try out. I bought some multivitamins, protein bars, new shoes, a spiffy new workout jacket and measured out every single snack and meal portion I would eat each week.
After busting my hump with working out 3+ times a week for 3 hours each day plus eating the way I was supposed to eat, 2 1/2 weeks later I lost 17 pounds of nasty flab. A couple inches from each of my measurement areas disappeared as well. Even Ras lost weight, because being the sweet man that he is he decided to do the diet part with me... he has been so good to me! I decided if I was going to do this, I was going to do it hardcore or not at all. And so I went into this whole thing with no cheating on the diet and working my ass off in the gym. Fat is EASY to put on yourself, but hard as hell to get it off. Through all of this I have decided to change my lifestyle to revolve around one that involves a healthier and more shapely person.
Now during all this weight loss I have not gone out and bought any new clothes. My comfy pants are still comfy, just a bit more baggy than usual. My t-shirts don't stretch tight like a fat Hooter's girl shirt anymore, my socks are well... my socks and I usually go "commando" in the underpants department, unless it's like a social situation... but at home it's free-ballin' time (If that is even possible, I wish there was a term for women who free-ball). I'm actually kind of liking the whole thing of having clothes that are loose and baggy that were once stretching to their limits, it feels like progress when I wear them.
Progress and feeling good, that is until today.
So I have a really sore throat today, like I have no voice at all (Ras is loving it). Today is one of our monthly Seattle iStocker Microlypses and we were all meeting in Ballard. So I told Ras that I'd drop him off to hang out with everyone and told him to give everyone my hugs, kisses and love, but that due to my throat and my inability to have a conversation I was not feeling social. Which bummed me out because I have been looking forward to this get together for a couple weeks now. oh well, you win some and you lose some. I hope they are all having fun though.
So after dropping him off at Cupcake Royale to meet the others and blowing kisses to FreeTransform and JensenPhoto who I saw standing outside, I decided to head up to the store to get some granola, european style whole grain bread and fresh fruits. The store I usualy go to (the same store from the Grumpy Old Crotch story), I go there when it is late night during the weekday. It's always busy in that place, but it is less busy later in the evening. Well, it is Saturday and it is about 2:30pm when I show up there and the place is freakin' packed! Oh joy. Okay I know what I want so I make the plan in my head to get in there and get the hell out.
The best laid plans.... need a BELT!
So I am walking through the store and the pants that I am wearing I bought when I was at the peak of my ginormousness. I have to keep tugging them back up as I am walking through the store. Every time I reach for something the stupid things slither down my hips a little. Now in my head I am flashing back to Ras telling me this morning when I was bitching about these very pants saying to me:
"Maybe you should wear your belt"
I, being a dumbass, explained to him that when I wear a belt with these pants they bunch of in the front and I look like I am packing a whopping set of cock'n'balls, because they balloon up funny in the front where the zipper is. Ras shrugged it off and that was that. Thankfully I had the foresight to grab a thong, one with pretty purple flowers on it, and put it on... it was cold out today and these pants are breezy.
So now I am in this store, there are about 13 or 14 old ladies, mothers and an octogenarian complete with his portable tank milling about the cereal section. I spy what I want, which is this granola they have sitting out on the display table. In order for me to get to it, I had to reach way across some muffins and other breakfast bread items in front of the granola. So I put the hand that I've been using to tug my pants up as I walk on the table for support and I reached across with the other hand to grab the container of granola.
As I straighten myself up from my reaching, stretching, groping position.... that is when the worst thing that could possibly happen... happens.
Down go the pants. Not just a little past my hips, my friends. All the way to my knees down.
I am standing there, with my ass hanging out, literally. And I can't seem to register what has happened fast enough, it seems to me like at least 5 seconds go by before I realize the magnitude of the situation I am currently in. Exposing my pretty purple flowers and asscheeks to the breakfast breads and the umpteen seniors, mothers and that poor octogenarian all within view.
I'm mortified, and I go to exclaim my mortification out loud and I say "Oh shit!" but all that comes out of my throat is this little harsh forced whisper of a voice. I toss the granola in the cart and I yank my pants up as fast as I can.
No one says anything. No laughter, no smirks, no shrieks of terror. In fact, the second they fell, everyone within view froze in place and just stared. I glanced over every face that was turned my direction, every face wore a look mixed with sympathy, shock and horror.
Did I mention that I was absolutely mortified?
So I checked out and left, eyes to the floor without uttering a word to anyone, face still burning bright red.
I got in the car and I called Ras and he said "Probably should have wore your belt, huh?"
Thought you guys and gals might enjoy this little mishap.
These pants... they are going to a clothing drive ASAP!
Okay, okay....
It has been a long, long, long, long-long while since I have written anything. I have a few good ones too, but those will have to wait, for too many of you have been pestering me via Vox-mail and in my comments to regale you in the tale of my poo exploits. (not that I mind the pestering... keep it up otherwise I may disappear into the ethers again hehehe)
It's a long story... a very long one. There are many pieces to it that all tie together. In order for you to get from A to Z I have to fill in the rest of the alphabet for you, otherwise it is just another stupid poop story. Also, you need to know that there were reasons beyond my lack of control and poop is not something that I enjoy, not on me, not in me not around me... in fact, not at all.
So I am going to take you back in time. We are going back a little over 12 or so years time, give or take (probably more give... but I don't want to feel so old dammit). I was working with a Printing company, I was doing all kinds of crap there. Printing, Pre-press, copying, binding (I'm a saddle stitching mastah!) and worst of all handling some of the retail grunt work. Later all of this moved me into a sweet postition as the head of Marketing and Sales for the company... but I had to wade through the mire of stupid customers who don't understand that a tight register 3 color print job needs seperated artwork and metal plates for offset printing. Arg! Sorry for the digression there... old scars of retail make me wander off in tangent mode when I start thinking back like this. Hey, I'm old... I'm allowed a few tangents now and again ;) But the good part of retailing is that it put me in touch with a select few folks who became great friends, so it's not all that bad I guess.
So my shop was located between an old Movie Theatre, a Thai Restaurant and a Sub Shop. I used to get all kinds of free stuff, local under the table bartering with the locals got me free lunchs and movies hehehehe. I made friends with my fellow working stiffs, one of which worked at the Movie Theatre. We will call him Mr T. Mr T was an ultra cute hip gay guy. Tons of fun to hang out with and we fast became close buds and took our friendship beyond one of people who work next to each other and we hung out all the time. One day I decided to go into the Sub Shop where I met a new guy working there, who we will call Mr K. Mr K was hilarious and quirky and full of energy, and he also so happened to be a gay guy. Well, he and I began a friendship, as well, quite similar to the one that Mr T and I had going on. Then it occured to me one day... I should introduce these two! They are perfect for each other. And in all honesty... they totally were. So, after I made it a point to find out if they were both single and free, I hit up Mr T and asked him if he wanted to meet someone and he said sure and then did the same with Mr K... he also said sure.
Wooo! Now I would get to hang out with both my friends at the same time, this was rockin'!
So we all decided that a good place to go without any sort of strongs attached was a night of dancing at The Vogue. It used to be the coolest place to go in Seattle. So we went on Industrial Disco Nights and the group of folks that I would hang out with would all decide what our "theme" was going to be for the night. We would dress up as a group in a particular theme and crash the place filled with goths, cutters and the melancholy. So this night we decided that we wanted to be 1980's Big Hair Porn Stars. Oh yeah, baby you get the picture. Low cut spandex tops with acid washed jeans with slashes all the way down the legs and in the ass, stiletto heels (or cowboy boots for the dude... extra points for snakeskin) nearly neon makeup and HUGE hair. We were always quite the attraction every Friday night there with our weird matching group dressed up differently every Friday Night.
So they met and they had hearts in their eyes all night long (awwwww I love it when a plan comes together!), and after that night they could not be seperated. A month goes by and we all find ourselves dressing our renditions of Jungle Lad from Beyond the Valley of the Dolls to get our Friday Night Vogue on and Mr T and Mr K announce that they are getting married. We alll squeal with delight and have loads of drinks of cheer in their honor. After the Vogue closes down, we are all walking home along 1st Avenue when they both tell me that they want me to perform their wedding ceremony. OMG! So sweet, I must say I was stoked and then a little scared because I had no idea what the hell to do. Washington State does not recognize gay marriages, so thy felt that it left them open to pick whomever they wanted to oversee their vows and since I had introduced them they asked me to do it. So I said yes. I mean what else could I say!
They picked a date.... Halloween night in Discovery Park. Costumes and all. I had a couple months to prepare and a friend tipped me off that I could get a mail order license to marry people and I figured that if Washington State ever pulled their heads out and let same-sex unions happen, then my friends would have the real deal. So I went to this funky little shop and picked up the kit. I had a long list of types of licenses you could get. I can't remember the organization that you mailed your kit to that hands out these ordinations... but they had a long list of titles that you could adhere to (in name only for the sake of marrying people)... pastor, minister, captain, swami. WTF Swami!? Oh damn, I saw that on the list and my first thought was that I did not see myself ever being called Pastor Kelly, sounded way too Televangelist to me. Can't you just see it now, me on TV with a pink beehive hairdo and make-up ala Tammy Faye: Pastor Kelly needs your donations to marry a couple gay guys! So I gravitated right to the Swami. Why? Because I liked the idea and the sound of being a Swami better than Pastor. So I ticked off the box, sent in my $65 bucks and a few weeks later got myself a letter of certification to marry under the title of Swami. So I was set to go and officiate the marriage. Woot!
So now we got that part out of the backstory out of the way, we move onto the next part of the story.
It is currently early September, a little over a month from my friend's wedding date. A few friends and I decide to go on one last hike to kiss Summer goodbye. We decide on Fragrance Lake, up off Chuckanut Drive north of Seattle. Yes... Chuckanut Drive is what I said. At the top of the of a pretty steep climb from Chuckanut to Frangrance Lake lies this placid and beautiful lake. It is very shielded from wind from a dense forest that surrounds it and it is usually mirror-like on the surface. It's a perfect swimming lake being all warm, smooth and inviting. The trees and even the water there are so perfumey and fragrant, it is like a little piece of heaven after the steep climb up.
So we all peel down to our underwear and dive in for a well deserved swim. The lake was in bloom. The waters were a little murky, which is unusual for this lake. Usually it is so clear you can see the bottom far from the shore through its jade green waters. We didn't care though, we were having fun. Almost too much fun, as the sun started slipping away from us we knew we had to trek it fast down the hill to make it back to the cars in time before we were stuck in the dark. None of us having the thought to bring a damned flashlight. About 3/4 of the way down, we find ourselves taking turns lighting Bic lighters to find our way back down to the trailhead. We finally make it safe and sound and we split up a package of Grandma's Molasses Cookies amongst 4 people and one Coke. The whole 2 hour drive home I am dealing with an obnoxiously annoying feeling of water in my ear. The going home scenerey passes before me sideways as I spend the rest of the trip with my head tilted sideways trying to get the damn water out of my ear to no avail. Little did I know what doom lay ahead for me from a seemingly innocent dip in the lake with friends.
Oh man... look at this, how time flies when I sit and type for you guys and gals. Okay, I will come back tomorrow and give you some more before you get too bored to continue reading anymore :)
