Thursday, July 29, 2010

It's a small world after're welcome for now having that song stuck in your head on a never-ending reel

Why, yes. Yes I am still alive. I think. Just a second, let me check.

Yup. Still here. Although I have no feeling left from the neck up.

It's been yet another whirlwind of a week (or whirledwind, as some people say, which actually drives me crazy, but I'll just leave that alone for today), but I still haven't written my last exam (it's somewhere in-between Toronto and here, which probably means it's in Tokyo, knowing our postal service). I've been studying chemical equations and gas reactions, and meanwhile, Dee has been sick as a puppy with a stomach thing that makes him pass out everytime he goes to the bathroom, which makes this mommy very very sad. I'm hoping he's feeling better soon, because this has been going on since last Thursday, and there are no signs of it letting up.

And I have a raging bladder infection that makes the normal act of peeing seem like you are actually putting your urethra through a meat grinder. Over and over and over again. And, of course, you feel like you have to pee ALL.THE.TIME, which just makes the meat grinder grind all the more. Fun. Not so much. I've finally got some antibiotics on board, but my belly is still really sore and unhappy. Woe's me.

We are also supposed to run down to Toronto this weekend for some cuddle-time with the newest addition to the family. Mr. Handsome's sister had another boy earlier this month, and apparently it's all hell in that house right now, which is exactly why we decided to go down there and visit, because we like to pile the different levels and consistencies of hell up on top of each other because our motto is "The more the merrier!" What's a little more hell in your life?

The most excitement I've had is my First Aid/CPR course that I took last weekend, when I discovered that the instructor is an old girlfriend of my younger brother's, and now we're Facebook friends and probably BFFs too. Small world? Yes. Yes, it is.

So. My life in a nutshell. These days, not so exciting.

How about you? Give me your rundown of your very own personal Layers of Hell. Don't be shy.

Monday, July 26, 2010

My newest invention might one day save your life

I'm remembering to breathe, blink and swallow.

Only one more hurdle, and I'm done. Until September, when it all begins again.

A whirlwind of a week this past one was. I had ambulance driver training, the ambulance driving license test, my biology exam, studying for my chemistry exam (which is happening this week), and a full weekend of First Aid and CPR training. I can barely mouth the words, "Thank god that's over."

I was so tired Sunday morning, when I had to once again get up early to make it to my first aid/CPR class, that I decided not to shower. My "buddy" in the class (we were paired up) was going to love me. So, in a pre-emptive state of mind, I decided I should use some body spray throughout to ensure no strange and telling smells would waft. So I sprayed under my shirt, just enough to give the sense that I was as fresh as a wilting tulip. And then, before I knew what I was doing, I opened up the elasticized waist of my pants, and sprayed toward the crotchal area. Because. You. Just. Never. Know.

Well, the day went fine, I passed my course, and no wafts were wafted (as far as I know). I kept an eye on my "buddy" the whole day, ensuring that she didn't detect any untoward smells that might give me away. She seemed oblivious, although when I was saying good-bye to her at the end of the day, she wouldn't look at me. She was probably just jealous that I could make a more awesome ring pad than she could.**

I came home and, after relaxing for a bit, started studying for my chemistry exam (which I have this week). And then, suddenly, the yogurt, fruit and granola I had had for breakfast that morning made its way through my small and large intestine, and was well on its way to the holding chamber in my colon. A burst of air then spewed forth from my nethers, ballooning my elasticized-waisted pants as it made its way out to freedom. And suddenly, I noticed the fragrance: a mix of lilies, roses and petunias. It took me a few seconds to understand from whence this fragrance came, but once I did, I felt almost like I had just discovered the atom.

Because guys, this is awesome! My farts smelled like flowers! I swear to god! They were actually pleasant little plippets of floaty air instead of putrid pods of phew. I actually began looking forward to the next volley because I could then imagine I was walking through a blooming garden instead of sitting at the table, studying chemical equations that I will never understand and never ever need. My farts were flowery and pleasant, and I was on to something big.

This might be the next big business venture in my life. In fact, just for you, I'm going to do a little experiment, using The Husband (because we all know where the problem really lies), and see what I can come up with. You're welcome. Of course, it's going to have to wait until after my chemistry exam.

** A ring pad is a ring-shaped pad made of bandage material used for certain injuries. And I was more than awesome in the creation of my ring pads, whereas my "buddy" was not. In fact, she couldn't even rip open the plastic package in order to take out her bandage. Yeah.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

I didn't know we had a tornado come through here, aka we are pigs and we don't deny it

I have no idea where to even start, and have no idea where it's going to end! Which, I suppose, is the fun of it all, but it still gives me the heeby jeebies, and ends with my house looking like a disaster zone x 32,400.

So, I have so far this week managed to get my ambulance driver's license despite having knocked the side mirror into a sign, driven with the hood unhitched, and driven over the speed limit (a story for yet another day!) and written my biology exam (with a raging migraine, I might add). At the same time, I've also succeeded at succumbing to some kind of nasty something that is invading my bladder and turning it inside out and upside down, while stabbing it repeatedly with rusty nails. What I'm trying to say is, I think I have a bladder infection, but I haven't had time to go to the lab to leave a pee sample, and so instead, I sit on the toilet about 11,000 times a day, writhing in pain as my urethra spasms unendingly, and I pretend I'm anywhere else.

And then, I look up from my books, and I notice that there are dried up puddles of dog puke in a few hidden places on the living room carpet. And oh look! right here behind that pillow, an intestine-shaped, furry vomit that looks more like a dead rat than anything that could have possibly come out of my dog. But it did, which makes me cringe just that much more. I'd post a picture of it, but I love you all too much.

My kids are coming home from camp this afternoon, the house is a total pig sty, I'm totally embarrassed about it, but can do nothing. Mr. Handsome said he'd clean up the kitchen, but he's been crazy busy with work as well, so let's just say that we are pigs, and we can't wait for the kids to come home so they can clean this place up. And that is why we had children in the first place: to have slaves to take care of us. Obviously, because we cannot manage our household on our own, which probably means we are not actually adults, but more akin to irresponsible multi-cellular animals without opposable thumbs, because how else could our home get to this state?! I don't know.

So, yes, I've so far finished my biology course and have gotten my ambulance driver's license, all in preparation for paramedic school in September. All I have left now is a chemistry exam, and a first aid/CPR course. I am spending this entire weekend in the first aid course, and hopefully coming out of it certified. And then, I most probably have to travel to Toronto early next week to write the chemistry exam from hell because I need course results by the end of July (which is next week, apparently), and it doesn't look like I'll have time for the exam to arrive here, and for the local instructor to set up an exam time for me, have me write it, send it back to Toronto, and have it marked. Phew!

The exciting part about all this is that the kids are coming home!!! I have to admit I've missed them, more every day, and will be so happy to see their cute faces again, and to listen to all their stories about camp. And then, tomorrow they will start screaming at each other again, and I'll again wish there was a camp they could be at. I'm never happy, am I...

And just as exciting is the prospect that I am probably going to Toronto on a train!! I've never been on a train before (yes, I am a child), unless you include my recent train trip from Geneva to Venice, in which case, disregard that last sentence entirely. I get to sit in one of those berths, and spread my chemistry books out in front of me, and look all studious and stuff. And then I'll probably fall asleep, and end up somewhere up north on an oil rig.

Can I just say I can't wait for this month to be over?

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

The wisdom-filled post is coming, I promise.

I was sort of kind of preparing a really good post for today, full of wisdom, some extremely potent humour, and a few amazing drawings that would make you all sigh in complete and utter awe.

Instead, I've got this.

Also known as NOTHING.

This studying and testing and fretting is kind of actually making me a little dizzy and constipated, and unable to concentrate, or write a blog post that actually makes any sense. I wish I could say that, while the kids have been away at camp, Mr. Handsome and I have been having orgies, and going out to fabulous dinners, and spending evenings by the fire with champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries.

This couldn't be farther from the truth, y'all. And this is because I've been doing basically nothing but studying for both my biology and chemistry exams, and getting through a big chunk of my driver's license testing, which I need done before Aug. 1.

Oh, and all that, PLUS getting a bladder infection that makes me want to pee every five minutes and scream in pain as if shards of glass were penetrating my urethra. You only wish you could be me.

I'm starting to question my sanity. And yes, I realize most of you have been doing just that for a very long time now. I'm a little slow in accepting reality.

So, for now, I will bid you all adieu until Thursday, when I will have completed both my biology exam AND my road test for my ambulance driving license. And then, when I've finished whacking myself upside my head, I will again question my reason for living, because WHO DOES THIS?! Who completes two full-year high school courses in the span of six weeks, writes two exams, goes through all the training and testing for a new driver's license, and does a weekend's worth of first aid and CPR training (all in one month)?!?! No one, that's who. Except me, of course, because I love danger, and committing hari kari. And making everyone around me roll their eyes, shake their heads, and walk away in disbelief.

Just remember, while you are reading this very post, you could be me, learning about exhaust on an ambulance, or how to turn a sharp corner in the rain. Or, even better, you could be learning all about how slime moulds stay alive, or how the liver produces bile and then stores it in the gallbladder, until it gets spewed out into your gut. Yummy.

P.S. And while I'm away being so incredibly busy, please keep the following things in mind:
(1) I love the smell of dog. Don't you? It's been very humid here the past while, and the smell of dog is unavoidable in this here household. I'm sure glad I love that smell.

(2) I cannot believe that my blog has surpassed the 1 million point Alexa ranking! Which means absolutely nothing at all in the grandest scheme of things, but for me in my tiny little head, it means it's more popular than it's ever been! Which is kind of cool.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

I need a hat for Mr. Handsome

So it seems that I have finally finished my chemistry course, which deserves a national holiday of recognition in itself. That, and the fact that I am probably writing my biology exam this Saturday, and I guess you could say I can actually see the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. Yay me.

I also paid my tuition for my first term. Correction: Mr. Handsome paid for my tuition. I am now his hooker for life.
So, I guess this whole college thing is slowly becoming a reality. I just have to get through two high school course exams, a driving test, and first aid/CPR, and it's a go! And all before the end of the month.


Meanwhile, my angelic children are still at camp, Gryphon is still glued to my leg, and Mr. Handsome has turned into an old man wearing a hat. Let me explain. Usually, when the kids go away to camp, he and I spend evenings doing fun things like going to the movies, eating out, and having sex on the kitchen counter pretending we're single and free again. Of course, it's a little different this time, seeing as I'm learning science stuff. However, I'm thinking Mr. Handsome has turned into an old man regardless of my activity because he spent the first night reading a book, and going to bed at 9 p.m. Ditto Night Number Two. WTF, sweetheart??


I'm still waiting on the old driver's license fiasco to iron itself out, which SHOULD happen this week. Shit. I just jinxed it, didn't I. So much for that.

Time to watch another Tori and Dean re-run  study.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

The home of silence, and living with a dog who wins every time

I have 10 days of silence in front of me. Ten days of utter calm. Noiselessness. Peace. Stillness.

The children have gone to camp, and the house has returned to the World of the Adults, where All Goodness equates Life Without Noise.

I'm often at a loss when the kids go away to camp, because they're really a pretty big part of my life. OK, I'll admit it. They are my life. I eat, drink, dream and poop kid crap all day and night long. But I won't complain, because they fulfill me and make me whole. Gag.

Seriously, though, they are a very large part of my every day, so when they go away, it makes a big difference in our home. Suddenly, there is no more screaming, "Stop sitting on my neck!" and "I'm telling Mommy you said 'Shit' for the fifth time today!".There is no mess being made on a continual basis. There is no slamming of doors, and no pounding of feet on wooden stairs, and no milk being slurped a litre a minute, and no very expensive sliced meat being eaten haphazardly, and no complaints that there's no food in the house, or it's too hot, or too cold. You get the picture.

There is none of that.

Instead, there is this:


This dog does not know what to do with himself. Instead, he sits beside me, and stares. And stares some more. And then, when I ignore him for too long, he gently places his little shaved head on my lap, and looks up at me with those big brown eyes.

So I tell him to go get his toy. And he does. And then he comes back and does this:


And again.

And again.

If he could talk, I wonder what he would say.

And the ever-present

And, of course, there's always

I'm hoping he figures out sooner rather than later that I have a lot of studying to do while the kids are gone, and finally gives up the sad routine. It's either that, or I'm failing chemistry.

This dog's got a lot of pull around here.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Driving tests are over-rated, I am blind, and it all just doesn't matter

Have you ever had one of those days where you wonder what the hell you were thinking to even lift your head off the pillow in the first place? I had one of those days yesterday. It's like, just when I thought I had jumped the final hurdle, there comes yet another elephant that I am somehow supposed to climb over, despite the fact that I'm exhausted and have been running for what seems like five months full throttle. And this elephant is like the size of 127 very large, obese elephants. And on top of that, add a bi-monthly heavy period and sudden extreme hot flashes, and you start to get an idea of how I felt yesterday. Oh, and I forgot to add the gassy dog. Check.

So, as you know, I've been working hard at fulfilling my prerequisites for the paramedic program at college this fall, to which I've already been accepted, conditional on completing the prerequisites. And herein lies the seemingly perpetual problem. Although I will take blame for a bit of procrastination, a lot of fear, and a lack of time due to my peri-menopausal body wreaking absolute havoc with my insides for over a year now, as well as to having children who require a million errands for clothing, doctors, or a hug, I will not take the blame for what happened yesterday. Well, almost none of the blame. I'll take responsibility for a smidgen of it.

It all started on Wednesday when I called a driver training organization because I was told through the proverbial grapevine that it was well worth the price of the training in order to get the class of license I required in order to be a goddammed paramedic. Heavy sigh. They told me I needed to get my medical and written tests in pronto because spots were filling up faster than Lindsay Lohan can say, "I didn't mean to." Luckily, I already had my medical signed, so I felt pretty damn good about it.

Fast forward to yesterday (or would that be, rewind, seeing as today is Friday? God help me), and I thought I'd be a smarty pants and make my appointment with the driver training place BEFORE getting my written test done, because I am one who doesn't like following rules when I don't have to. Ahem.

The nice British lady at the driver training firm took down my name, license information, and said she'd be in touch as soon as she was able to set up a time for me. I felt great. No, better than great. Awesome. I then headed off to pick up a copy of the driver training handbook I needed for the written portion of the test, and planned on writing the test today.

I ended up going to the test centre yesterday, mostly because I got through the training book lickety split and felt ready. So off to the test centre I went, money, license and medical in hand. I was ready for anything, guys. Any.Thing. Except for what actually happened.

I arrived at the centre, sweat running down my spine and legs and between my buttocks (because of the heat wave), making it look like I'd either slipped and fallen into a puddle of dirty water, or peed my pants. In I go, grab a number, and sit to wait my turn. My turn is up within a couple of minutes. I tell the clerk what I'm there for, and she takes a look at my medical form, sighs heavily, rolls her eyes, and says in her very self-important voice, "I cannot accept this."

In my head, I'm saying pretty much every swear word that exists, and then some I made up on the spot. I'm creative like that. Out of my mouth came, "Oh. How come?" as innocently as I could sound at that moment of utter rage.

Apparently, my name wasn't anywhere on the medical form, which the doctor had filled out. But he (or I) hadn't filled out that one portion. And, of course, I hadn't noticed.

So, I ask the clerk if I can just fill out the form and we can move on. Well, of course I can't do that, because that would be MUCH too easy. The clerk shakes her head and looks at me like I was a green alien and drooling goop. And she says I can do whatever I want, but she can't accept the form.

Being the rebel that I most definitely am, I thanked the not-so-pleasant clerk and walked out to my car, sat in it, and signed the paper. I then walked back into the office, took another number, and waited again, this time hoping I didn't end up seeing the same clerk.

Well, I didn't see the same clerk. This clerk was more pleasant. She didn't frown at me, or even growl, so I knew this time would be a more pleasant experience.

She asked me to look into the vision test machine first. Now, this test is one of the things I've been afraid of, because I have bad eyes. I was pretty sure I would pass the test, but knowing me, strange things often happen. She tests my left eye first. And I can't see a thing. Just blur. As if I was drunk on seven mojitos and a case of old beer. But I wasn't. Unfortunately, for me.

The clerk hesitates, mumbles something, and I realize I'd better come up with an explanation, and fast. She then asks me if I'm wearing my contact lenses. Yeah, it was THAT BAD, guys.

So I explain that my eye doctor had prescribed one lens to see distances, and the other to see close up. That seemed to work, and the clerk allowed me to continue with the test. The final part of the test requires me to look with both eyes open, but I didn't know this, so again, I couldn't see a damn thing. 

I almost failed, guys. But I didn't. She passed me.

I thought the worst was over. I sighed a very heavy sigh of relief, and waited for her to send me over to complete the written portion of the test.

But no, that did not happen. Of course not. That would have been too easy, too simple, too amazingly wonderful and perfect for it to happen to me.

Instead, the clerk cleared her throat, made a weird sound that came from somewhere deep in her belly, and said, "We have a problem here."

My brain synapses went into overdrive, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong now. Every possibility ran through my head, including that I was possibly wanted for a murder I hadn't actually committed, and suddenly I imagined myself in court, with a nasty judge who really hated middle-aged blonde women with uneven breasts. And I would be found guilty by virtue of having uneven breasts, and would spend the rest of my days in prison being harassed by very attractive, but violent, women in orange jumpsuits.

The nice clerk then told me that apparently I have a flag on my file regarding a medical incident IN THE 90s. Fifteen years ago, guys!!! I didn't even remember what this was about. The clerk couldn't tell me either. And then she said because of this flag, my application had to go to the ministry for approval, and she couldn't touch it. Which meant I couldn't take the written portion of the test, or the driver training course, until everything had been approved.

Which means it all just sucked big time, and I wanted to cry like a baby, go home, and lie in bed in the fetal position until I shriveled up (which actually shouldn't take too long, considering I'm half-shriveled already). My life was over.

I was so sad, guys. So so very very sad.

And I knew Mr. Handsome would be both upset with the bureaucratic stupidity of it all, as well as with me for WAITING UNTIL THE LAST MINUTE TO GET THINGS DONE. Yeah, I said it.

So, I wallowed in my world of self-pity for a few more moments, and then called the ministry office to figure out what to do. I spoke to William, who told me I had to go back to my doctor, who needed to write down that I was no longer afflicted, then FAX the form to Toronto, and I should be good to go in five days. Which sounds great, except that the driver training course is filling up faster than fast, and my chances are going to be slim to none to get into it and get my license by the end of the month. And the doctor isn't in.

I'm now in limbo, waiting for my doctor to come back from wherever he is so he can do his magic, before I can do anything else. And I feel like quitting, although that's not like me. But sometimes, I just figure that when things just aren't going your way, and everything seems about one billion times harder than it really should be, it just might mean it's not right for you.

I won't give up, but I sure do want to.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Chemical reactions of the brain

This is what I've been doing these past few weeks:

All.Day.Long. Every day.

And then one day just recently, this happened:

I guess you could say it was a sort of chemically induced nervous breakdown. But based on entirely realistic expectations, meaning I knew deep down inside there was no way in hell I was going to pass this chemistry course unless maybe some magic pink unicorns came prancing by and sprinkled magic brain dust on me at just the right moment.

But I knew THAT wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Magic pink unicorns are all busy right now trying to save Mel Gibson.

And then, it happened. My knight in shining armour, my saving grace. My husband came to my rescue.

I almost mauled him (in a good way) when he asked me if I'd want some help with the mathematical calculations and all the other crap that I couldn't care less about but need desperately to know in order to pass this course, and NOW!

So, Mr. Handsome, who is extremely smart in many many ways, took away some of my books and spent two days studying chemistry. FOR ME. Oh, and have I mentioned that he's taken a week-and-a-half off work to give me time to study? So, not only has he taken time off, but he's now spending his time studying Grade 12 chemistry. For me.

Now, let me explain something to you. I'm not used to people doing things for me. It's not something I'm terribly comfortable with, having come from a home where I was pretty much on my own, my own parent and friend. My dad worked a lot, and wasn't all that demonstrative emotionally (although I knew his love was strong), and my mother just wasn't. I'm much better than I used to be accepting kindness from others, but it still makes me feel unworthy. Or something equally as awful.

But my saving grace is knowing when I absolutely have no choice but to get someone's help. And who better than my sweet husband, who has been nothing but supportive through all my crap. Well, I've been supportive through his too, but I'm pretty sure if we had to choose a winner, there wouldn't be much hesitation, because I have most certainly thrown out a whole bunch more crap than he has.

So, Mr. Handsome helped me yesterday. For almost eight hours, minus a few small breaks, we went through question after question of chemistry, he the teacher, me the very slow and incompetent student. And guys, I'm happy to report that I'm starting to figure things out!! I am so excited!!! I can actually figure out some mathematical equations that just yesterday was pure and utter gibberish to me! It's almost like Mr. Handsome is a magician, in a cool cape and top hat, and is turning my previous brain of mush into a brain of absolute wonder! Witness:

Me, at the end of my proverbial chemical rope. Or something like that.

Mr. Handsome does his magic.

And voila! 

As you can see, I am one damn lucky gal.

Now I just have to figure out a way to sneak Mr. Handsome into the exam with me, and it's a done deal.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Who knew that chemistry could suck the life out of a person like this? And, while on the topic, I wonder what that chemical equation would be

I've been outside maybe twice this entire week, spending the majority of my time holed up in the dining room, bedroom, or living room, with my laptop, chemistry books, and tissues for all the tears I'm shedding.

Chemistry is not easy, guys. Who knew?! I certainly didn't. Here I thought, 'How hard can a few chemical compounds and some letters and numbers be?! For god's sake, I've got a university degree.' If you asked me now, my thoughts would more simulate the following: '*&$HYH#^TD)(@@":#&$^%(!!!!!!'

And now, because I have to pass this chemistry course in order to get into the paramedic program this fall, Mr. Handsome has taken it upon himself to study it so that he can help me with all the mathematical equations and chemical blahblahblah because he is the Dr. Spock in our family, whereas I am  more the Kate Gosselin. Enough said.

I would like to say that I now have full proof that Mr. Handsome does indeed love me, because who the hell else would study chemistry just so that he can help his wife out?! It was a match made in heaven, guys. Either that, or I owe him big time. Eventually.


* True story here, folks. Michelangelo gorged himself on brains.

* When good is actually bad, but not in a bad way. I think. Maybe. Whatever. On second thought, don't read it. It's not worth your time.

That's it folks for this week. Stay tuned to next week, when you can hear all about how much more studying I did, how much more I sucked at understanding chemical equations and ionic balancing, and other things that are much less exciting!!

Friday, July 2, 2010

When good turns bad

Do you ever surprise yourself with your reaction to something, as if your reaction is actually someone else's, and you're just a bystander? And then you make sure you took your Xanax this morning, and then you discover you actually don't even have a prescription for Xanax, which makes you cower under the covers in fear for the rest of the day.

Well, that's the way I've been feeling the past few days, after finally getting a call from the doctors in Toronto that I went to see back in April about my arthritis in hopes of getting a more definite diagnosis and treatment plan.

I finally got some pretty definite answers, and it's put me in a funk, which I suppose isn't surprising since I am almost always in one funk or another, and if I'm not, I'm in the midst of planning one.

Have you ever planned a funk? It's actually kind of fun. More fun than the actual funk itself, once it arrives. Sort of like the family trip, but without the accompanying tours and attractions.

Anyway, the doctors told me that they are pretty sure, based on all the tests and stuff, that I have severe degenerative osteoarthritis, and NOT some type of rheumatoid arthritis, which is what they initially believed based on my symptoms and scale of whining.

Now, having osteoarthritis is actually a good thing, when your other option is having rheumatoid arthritis or some other type of autoimmune disease, and this I fully realize. And there is definitely a part of me that is very thankful. Because it means I don't have the "really bad kind" of arthritis that sucks the life out of you and turns you into a feeble little person with inflamed joints and about eleventy hundred medications. However, what it does mean is that I have the kind of arthritis that many people have as they get older, but mine is as bad as it is for a regular 90-year-old, but I'm only in my 40s. Not only that, but as the doctor said to me, with the rheumatoid arthritis, they have a billion options in terms of medications with which to help with the symptoms. With osteoarthritis, not so much.

Which is to say that I'm screwed. Again. And hence, the funk.

I'm not able to take most of the anti-inflammatories the medical people usually prescribe for the pain for osteoarthritis because of sensitivities, asthma, etc. So, I'm stuck chewing on codeine, Tylenols and more codeine to get through the days and nights. Meanwhile, my joints continue to hurt, swell and degenerate.

And I am at the place now where I'm pretty sure I have no option left but to accept this fact, and deal with it as best I can.

I guess I'm kind of tired of it all. And sick of not feeling well most of the time. And I want so much to do something, make something of myself, and it feels like everytime I try, a million things come crashing down around me and stop me in my tracks.

My health has been an issue most of my life, so you'd think I'd be used to this by now. But no. I'm just frustrated, and sad, and want to be someone else.

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