Halp!

I'm feeling like I've descended into one of the circles of hell.

I'm ill. My kidneys are damaged; I have stage 3 chronic/boderline stage 4 chronic kidney disease. I also have ascites, constant lower abdominal pain and nausea, am throwing up 3 or more times a day and sometimes feel like I'm going to pass out because it hurts so bad. I've lost more weight, I feel like death some days and people are starting to remark that I look ill.

None of those are good things. I've seen a nephrologist, who thinks that there's something more than simple kidney disease going on - so on Wednesday I see a GI doc.

If I had to put my money on a diagnosis, I'd be going with IBD (inflammatory bowel disease). Chron's, colitis....something in that family. It would explain the renal damage, the arthritis in my small joints that's suddenly flared up, the constant running for the bathroom (straight pipe), the pain, the weight loss the crippling fatigue...it would explain all of it.

I've gone through cycles like this before: I'll have weeks where I feel off color and my belly acts up, then just when I think it's time to go to the doc it starts to get better on it's own. However, this is the worst it's been. I can't ever recall feeling this ill for this long.

I've had to take a leave of absence from work. I can't even walk around the grocery store without needing to come home and lie down, so there's no way I can manage to provide care for 6 very dependent dying patients. I don't know if or when I'm going to go back, and that makes me really sad.

On top of all of that, my mum is here for a 3 week vacation. When she was last here in 2008, we said that 3 weeks was just too long a duration for her to stay, but time blunted our memories and emotions and when she asked if she could come visit for the same duration we agreed.

Never again. Never. She's a very sweet lady in her own right, but we are very different people, have very different lifestyles. She cripplingly polite, and seems to be incapable of making a decision about ANYthing.

I should interject here and tell you that when I don't feel well, I want to be left alone. I get short tempered and sharp tongued, and the best place for me to be is alone, away from everyone.

I can't do that right now. I can't be alone. I have acquired a shadow. A shadow that has no concept of personal space (which makes me really uncomfortable) with some habits that normally wouldn't bother me, but right now get on my last nerve. The only alone time I get is when I'm on the toilet or in the shower, and my patience is wearing thin.

The other day I got the urge to paint. It doesn't happen often, but when I get it I find that I need to run with it. Ignoring it ends up leaving me frustrated and annoyed.

Painting, for me, is a solitary exercise. Bob Ross I am not; I can't paint in front of other people and I can't paint and talk. I usually put my headphones in, some good tunes on and go off in a little bubble of creativity, and that's exactly what I did the other day.

Mum came and stood 3" from my elbow and watched me. *Pop*...creativity bubble burst. I figured it was a fluke and tried to blow it off. I put my stuff away.

This morning, I wanted to throw another layer of underpaint down, so I repeated the routine: headphones in, music on, paints and brushes in hand.

The same thing happened, except this time she tried to talk to me. *Poof*... again, the bubble burst, but this time I can't blow it off. It's eating at me....the whole thing is eating at me. Not feeling well, not having any alone time, not being able to paint....it's really getting to me and I'm finding myself constantly on the verge of tears.

I feel so fucking selfish for needing be be alone, for wanting to paint, for getting frustrated and annoyed. I've found myself counting down the days until she goes home, and I hate myself for that.

Halp. Really. Help.

Dio's Dead

Ronnie James Dio has died of stomach cancer. Upon announcing this news to my husband and sons, the following conversation took place:

Son #1: What? What did he die of?!

Hubs: Being short...

Son #1: Har. Seriously, what did he die of?

Husband: I told you, being short.

Me: No, he died from having long hair. 'Twas a lethal combination...

Husband: Actually, his hair was normal length, it just looked real long 'cause he was so short....

*sigh*...it's going to be one of those nights a la NinjaMedic maison.