Unexpected Surgery

Greetings Friends and Passerbys,

As I write this (which would be a different time as you read it), there are a few things to take note of:

  1. I am writing on my new smartphone; therefore, excuse any mistakes you may find here.
  2. I am currently lying in a hospital bed. My surgery is tomorrow at around noon.
  3. I am currently in Taiwan, been here for 6 weeks, and my plans to return to the United States have been delayed from August 21st to probably August 31st.

Today has been a whirlwind of events, and I honestly have no idea how I got on this runaway train and when I will be getting off nor where.

Sometime in late July, I had a horrible case of what appeared to be (and felt like) acid reflux. My mother insisted I see her doctor, so I did. Then at that appointment, I had a blood test done because my mother loves knowing that we are all, for the most part, medically healthy.

Ah, mother’s love.

Before I go any further, I may or may not have mentioned that I haven’t been feeling well for a while. Five or so years to be exact. I was constantly exhausted and fatigued, unable to sleep, and I constantly suffered acid reflux, bloating, and constipation no matter what I tried with my diet. I tried taking magnesium and that helped a little. After a lot of research and extensive notes, I thought perhaps it had something to do with my thyroid.

I took what I recorded to the doctor. The office had me draw blood and do tests, but they told me nothing is wrong. Then I was sent home and that was that. Without a direction, I might as well be trying to mend myself in the dark with a black needle and black thread.

And duck tape only works for certain things…

Well, the test results take about a week. While we waited, the doctor opt to take a look inside my stomach. Yes, it involved a bit of numbing agent and a tube put down my throat into my stomach.

He told me that my stomach was fine. There is a little bit of irritation, but otherwise everything looked good.

I also told Bitworks that I now have official proof that my stomach wasn’t made up of disassembled Japanese world war 2 ships.

He says I bribed them for false proof. Go figure.

When the week was up, we went back for my test results and even the doctor was taken aback with the numbers.

The numbers for my liver function was off the charts nestled nicely somewhere among the stars.

I was automatically sent for a second blood test… This time for Hepatitis.

Then the doctor also scheduled me for an ultrasound to take a look at my liver.

On the day of the ultrasound, the blood tests also came back. I was negative for hepatitis A, B, and C. I also have Hepatitis B antibodies, which is awesome.

With all that ruled out, and the numbers for my liver function somewhat normal again but still elevated, he got curious and went hunting for my gallbladder.

And then the thing that I didn’t expect at all but knew there was a chance because of family history came to light:

I have gallstones of various sizes, the largest over an inch big. The next day, I returned for another doctor’s appointment with another specialist. Then in a whirlwind of about 40 minutes, I had a surgery appointment the next day, to be checked into the hospital immediately, and will be here for 3 days post-surgery if everything goes well without a hitch.

I suppose at this point it is a good thing that I am almost a vegetarian and dislike red meat with a royal passion. I also don’t like fried foods or greasy anything.

So for me to have 2 weeks of recovery time before an obscenely long flight back to Bitworks, my flight has been pushed back to end of August or the 1st of September. I am thinking August 31st, availability pending of course.

So that is the latest and greatest with me. I am working hard on not thinking about all this so I don’t suffer an anxiety attack.

Hope all of you are doing well.

Oh… Happy Ghost Month!

With much <3, Wynter.

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Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder…

Or something like that… 🙂

*walks into a faceful of cobweb*

*frantically flails arms to clear head space and face* Ah! Blegh!

*sees all the other cobwebs*

Why, hello there.

It certainly looks like I’ve been gone a wee bit too long, yet I don’t see it ending any time soon.

I just stumbled onto the phase of my writing where my brain’s screaming and my fingers absolutely refuse to write another word on the story, which then just makes my brain throw hissy fits. I figured I’ll shove that particular story voice into a nice, big, dark closet for a bit of a time-out before it escalates any further and come dust in here a little bit…

Figured I’ll ponder a few things while I’m at it. I just hadn’t expected this much dust. *squeak-sneezes*

*snags some tissue*

*draws a deep breath*

*sneezes again* Okay, no deep breaths. Not without a mask.

First things first: DAD.

My last post mentioned my father being in the hospital, and he was for a couple of days. During those couple days and for a few more days after that, I suffered too many panic attacks to function properly. I think I actually made myself sick(er) there for a bit, slept something like 36 hours, and then got back up to continue with this thing called ‘life’ – the four-letter word that has a tendency to screw one over more than the word “fuck.” How’s that for a kicker in the guts? 🙂

All I can pass onto you are my father’s words, “Don’t worry. It’s nothing. I’m all right.”

Bitworks will be the first one to tell you this: “Asking this woman not to worry is the equivalent of asking her to stop breathing. If she actually had a middle name, it would be worry. Actually, no, her first middle name would be ‘Stress’ followed by her second middle name ‘Worry.’ She doesn’t know how not to do that despite all the effort she’s put into trying to learn how not to.”

So, according to him, my name would sound something like this: Lavender Stress Worry Wynter.

I don’t know. I kinda like the ring of it. Need one of those random letters though:

Lavender Stress N. Worry Wynter.

There ya go. XD

But Bitworks’ got a point. Every time I hear someone I know on Facebook, Tumblr, or Twitter is sick, I want to mail him/her this giant fruit basket, although I think only a few of them would eat it. Too many pizza (and meat) lovers to actually want fruit, methinks. I’m not all too sure about the vegetarian ones, but I suppose even vegetarians can be picky about fruit. *chuckles*

That was really awful humor.

I’ve somehow unlearned humor in the last 3 months. Not sure how that happened, but it did. I blame it on a few factors, actually.

  1. Donald Trump is running for president.
  2. Hillary Clinton isn’t behind bars, and she’s running for president.
  3. Who the fuck let Sarah Palin out of the looney bin again?
  4. I’m not sure what Bernie Sanders is smoking, but I think it should be banned.
  5. Ted Cruz makes me grind my teeth, and that’s absolutely horrible for my dental visits.
  6. USAF used to have smart people running it. When the fuck did they drop the ‘intelligent’ requirement?

Do not ask me to clarify anything. I’ll give myself an ulcer on a rant that I’m pretty sure you don’t want to hear. 🙂

FYI, I don’t read the news, yet I still manage to hear news about these people. Probably because Bitworks does, and I have to ask every time he head bangs the dining table. *grimace* It’s a miracle the man hasn’t knocked over his coffee by accident. *chuckle* He probably has it perfected into an art… the not-knocking-over-coffee skill.

The most enjoyable news I’ve heard ALL YEAR is the 90th birthday celebration of Queen Elizabeth II. Happy Belated Birthday, Your Majesty. May the blessings to you and yours continue.

*extends a Swiffer cleaning pole* As for me… there’s the usual managing-husband thing (although lately it’s more the husband managing me) and the herding of kids. I mentioned previously that I was depressed. It still runs its course, but I’m happy to say that the good days are starting to outnumber the bad, which is… ’bout damn time, right? I think I’m climbing out of the pit as the weather warms.

Next thing on the list to kick my ass? Allergies. Yay, Spring.

My love for winter is still strong as always, but this past season had been difficult. I had a hard time dealing with the cold, and even when it was far from freezing, my limbs felt lethargic and cold, which was highly unusual. I didn’t wear my cashmere sweater more than five times last year, but this year, I had it on me pretty much even before the temperatures dipped and didn’t stop wearing it until the weather climbed into the 40s. That worried Bitworks.

Me… who wears shorts in 30 degree weather (Fahrenheit. In Celcius, that’s -1 to 1) to take a stroll up to the mailbox and back was in fleece-lined sweat pants and double-layer coats for the same walk this past winter.

I really wasn’t feeling well. Due to this – and the doctor couldn’t find anything, I had to cut my voluntary job as a reviewer over at Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words.

Probably just the stress. That was most people’s theory.

Aside from Husband and Kids, every available minute is dumped into writing. I barely check social media (Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr). Right now, I’ve got three stories going:

 

  • Bleach x Jujironkirin Novel-length fanfic. (There are 3 versions of this, at 40k words each, as I continue to juggle the task of creating characters.)
  • Bleach – Kisuke x Byakuya fanfic, part 2, that is a continuation of “An Unexpected Encounter” that will, hopefully, lead me to the story I’ve been putting together where Byakuya and Hisana cross paths once more after the whole Thousand Year Blood War Arc finishes as I need to know the people still left standing. (Word count currently sitting at 5k.)
  • Bleach – Kisuke x Yoruichi fanfic that takes place after Aizen’s Winter War. However, this one might merge with the first fanfic on this list. We’ll see. (Current word count, 8900 words.)

 

I’m also drawing out Closet Souls Chronicles Book 2 – Ash and Callie in preparation for November’s National Novel Writing Month that I was forced to skip last year due to the hectic schedule. This one is going to be as big of a task as the Bleach x Jujironokirin fanfic… if not bigger. It probably will be, knowing me.

So there it is, what I’ve been up to. I’m not typically this obsessed with my writing life, but I got only one fanfic and one original written in 2015 (a novelette at that). I didn’t like that, and I’m sure somewhere in here is me trying too hard to compensate for lost time, but I need it. I’m losing myself in my head from it being so cluttered.

I hope all of you are doing well in 2016. It’s a tough year. I have a feeling it’s going to get tougher. Hang in there. If you need anything, I’m always reachable by email!

Much love & Welcome to Spring!

I’ve Been Quiet.

I know. A little too quiet, in fact.

It’s not that I didn’t want to write something long before now, but looking back at the history of the posts, it seems like I had a lot of ranting to do, mostly about family, and I get sick of writing those.

I’ve also been horribly depressed. I’ve been overwhelmed even before 2015 ended, and it almost seemed like the moment that clock settled at 00:00:00 on 1/1/2016, stress fractures appeared in one giant weave in my world, and it’s left me scrambling to make sure I can patch them before more showed up. Last thing I want is for the sky to fall on me.

January to March is the accumulation of:

  • 4 strep cases (children).
  • 1 bronchitis infection that triggered asthma (myself).
  • 1 stomach flu (son, on Spring Break no less).
  • 5 cases of cold/flu.
  • And a few more things.

.

Then it’s April. First thing this month is my father having to check himself into the hospital yesterday. He’ll be discharged Saturday.

.

He’s alone. So much is balanced on that man’s shoulders that his health is failing. And I’m terrified. Half the world away, I can’t do anything. I can’t cook for him, stay with him… help him in any way, shape, or form.

Except the stupid 5 minute phone calls I make to ask how he’s doing.

He’s my father. In my veins flow his blood. Anybody who knows my father and knows me never fails to comment that I’m a chip off his block. I don’t just look like him. I’ve got his personality traits. We may not talk, but I get him, I suspect, in the same way he gets me. Our father-daughter times, few in number, were always special and different from when he’s around my mother or my brother. I know. I can sense it.

Introverts connect more non-verbally than verbally. That’s the thing that my mother and my brother has trouble with, being extroverts that they are.

I think that’s why he’s had so much more success with raising me from a distance than my brother. Once you figured out how someone thinks and acts, it’s not difficult to understand what he/she’ll say or do even before the words are even uttered or the action carried through. It’s the little things.

So when I say I’m terrified…

I. Am. Terrified.

*sighs*

If anybody needs me, I’ll be reachable by email. ❤

Describing Depression: A Ship’s Analogy

6:00 am…

It’s Saturday, and the first thing that crossed my mind when I opened my eyes somewhere around 5:30am is disappointment. I wasn’t sleeping the sleep of forever.

*deeps breath*

Instead of regaling you with my depressive thoughts, I want to take a moment to explain depression while it’s striking me here and hard at this time. I’ve tried to do this a number of times, but the words wouldn’t come.

It’s always easiest to describe something while I’m in the middle of it.

Depression.

There are different levels of depression. It ranges from feeling “gray” regardless of the environment or events around a person to actively attempting suicide or, in my case, disappointed that when I closed my eyes the night before, I’ve come to open them again.

If your first notion as you read this post is to open up a message box to me to remind me of how you’re there and love me, that you’re all there for me, keep reading. There’s no need for that level of desperation. I already know all you can say, and possibly even more. ❤

If I have to describe my depression right now, I’ll have to give you a scenario of what a good day looks like to me. First and foremost, I have to apologize to a lot of seafarers and people who live by the sea, use the sea, and basically live with the sea.

Let’s pretend that I’m a ship/boat/large vessel on the vast ocean that is following a coastline from destination A to B.

Good days are when the skies are blue, cotton like clouds in the sky, and I can basically see as far as the curve of the globe makes the horizon dip against the ocean line. In the distance is the shore, and on top of that shore is a lighthouse.

That lighthouse is where all the people who mean a lot to me are. The candles they hold to illuminate the darkness lights up that lighthouse. That’s the place I look to when the seas are stormy and the sky isn’t bright and blue.

Depression would be the type of storms that can meander through. Some days, there aren’t any storms. Other days, it could be a light drizzle, or a persistent one. Other days, a tropical dip may come in. Hurricanes. Typhoons. Monsoons. Tsunamis. The list goes on.

Which means the visibility of that lighthouse is dependent upon how light or heavy the storm is. Right now, the storm is heavy enough to limit visibility to no more than 10 feet. The oceans are tossing me up, down, left, right, and like every Captain of every sea vessel, one hopes that the anchor – signifying everything that me as a person would have in my arsenal to keep me afloat – would hold.

I can’t see the lighthouse.

I may or may not sound the horn of my distress.

And this, dear readers, is what it may look like from the lighthouse’s perspective.

Friends can see that storm as well as I can because they know me. They know those storms as depression, and the well-versed ones will usually be on the lookout – like a master interpreting the signs at the horizon to know what kind of storm is brewing.

They’re listening for the horn of distress when the storm has hit… and continues to hit. Because just as I can’t see them, they can’t see me. It is always more difficult seeing from the light into the darkness. It’s like having the sun in one’s face, if I can describe it as such. They don’t really know what condition that I might be in through the depression.

So when I hit that horn of distress, they try to answer.

They light every candle they can find. Some of them try to figure out what kind of giant bonfire could be executed to make that small flame more visible in the howling winds, the pouring rain, and the turbulent seas.

Friends and the people who mean a lot to us are the proverbial light in the darkness.

Only depression’s darkness isn’t still. It’s not like standing in a dark room without light. Depression is like the hell storms that take a coast, that make people bunker down and stock up or pack the family into a vehicle and travel to a safer location.

People like to say “You’re not alone.” They also like to say, “Remember those who love you.”

I understand I’m not alone. I also know there are those who love me and will be horrendously saddened by my departure – if my ship was to sink, if I was to sink beneath the ocean waves. I would be lost, and it would be incredibly selfish of me to think “It’s because nobody cared in the first place.” However, those thoughts will emerge 9 times out of 10.

That is the depression – the storm – talking. The storm wouldn’t care about me, and it’ll make me think that because of its veracity, no one can come help me. That’s what fuels the thought that people didn’t care. I was alone.

A part of that is obviously false. Another part of it is true. I also believe that it is from the understanding of this that I’ve managed to turn, time and time again, back to the people I know who cared about me. It stays the hand holding the blade. It stays the hand holding the bottle of pills. It stays the hand that is determined to cause self-harm and self-demise.

It is because I understood that at a certain point of my depression, I am very much alone… But…

I am not abandoned.

That’s the difference.

Those who love me are there, but I can’t see them except for a random flicker or an errant, more powerful ray of light before the storms veiled the lighthouse again.

This part of depression, the part that often determines whether one lives or one dies by one’s own hand, is the most terrifying part of all. Sometimes we have drugs – like the passing of a storm – for things to settle back down. At that point we are able to reassess where we are, see the damages, and repair if possible. We can see the rays of light from the lighthouse pushing through the rain and the darkness for us to reset a course and find our way back to the ones we love and care about us, to mend the other parts we couldn’t fix ourselves…

Like a ship going back to port for needed repairs after a storm.

Not everyone has access to medication. Whether it’s because there was never an official diagnosis – due to lack of affordability or time, or one simply couldn’t afford the drugs…

Some of us simply had bad experiences and never gathered enough strength to begin again with someone new.

As for me, I’m like that ship caught through 2 storms, back-to-back, and I’m fighting it in hopes that the storm will break soon. It may. It may not.

But I hope this has given some of you a little bit of extra insight to what depression may really feel like from the POV of the person going through it.

~*~

Until next time, Wynter.