I am really starting to wonder if no one realizes that telling someone that they “look like crap” is not a compliment of any kind. I mean really, that’s precisely what I needed to hear when I got to work today. Or what I wanted everyone to notice when I went out to a movie tonight.
Hi, I’m Katie, and I look like crap. (All together now, “hi Katie”)
I’m trying desperately to put on a happy face and cover the worry, anger, frustration and sadness that has overtaken most of my mind this past week. I’m trying to smile and pretend like it doesn’t hurt, but apparently an actress I am not.
I had made it 7 weeks with 1 headache. I was a miracle to everyone at work, I was an inspiration to other people in the same situation. I was a poster-child for this surgery, and it has all gone to hell in such a spectacular handbasket that I’m virtually speechless about it.
What’s frustrating (besides people commenting on my state of fecal-ity) is that everyone wants to tell me how it’s not that bad. You know what? It is bad, and I think that it’s probably okay for me to be upset about it for a few days. It hasn’t even been a week, don’t I get a little time just to freak the hell out? I think so. Because if these headaches aren’t benign in nature (like tension, stress related, etc), there’s a short list of not-great things that might be causing them. And I can list every symptom I’ve been having and they fit neatly into the category of another brain problem that is commonly associated with gigantor brain surgery and it makes my stomach turn over every time I think about it.
I just want normal. I can handle a headache every once in a while, that’s normal. I cannot handle waking up every day to splitting pain and ringing ears. I can’t handle not feeling like I cannot hold anything in my left hand without embarrassing myself. I cannot handle this small black spot in my vision. I cannot handle looking LIKE CRAP EVERYWHERE I GO. I feel like I did all of this for nothing. Like I had brain surgery, lost 1/3 of my hair (I know, you’re tired of the hair drama, get in line), missed 4 weeks of work and lost any hint of muscle tone I may have ever had because it was the only option. And I was teased with a miracle. I wouldn’t be feeling this way if the surgery hadn’t worked at all. I could’ve come to terms with this and moved on with my life, but to get 7 weeks of normalcy? It was cruel. I’d rather have not known what it felt like because now everything just feels so much worse. So much scarier and more unmanageable.
So hopefully this livened up your Friday night because as I’m sure you can see, everything is sunshine and daisies over here.
(Unrelated, how do you like the new template? I feel so much more mature.)