Haemoglobin is the key

I forgot to mention I fell off a yoga wheel and broke my ass. I was so damn close to making it 48 hours of accident free yoga wheel ownership too. If you, like me, had never heard of a yoga wheel until you saw one on clearance on the bottom shelf at TJ Maxx and decided you had to have it because you’re holding out hope wellness can be achieved through technology, even though in your soul you know what you really need is a prison workout and to stop eating sweet and salty Chex mix with the caramel popcorn seasoning sprinkled on top at 3AM, well then the yoga wheel is a plastic circle about 10 inches in diameter that you do yoga things with. Beyond that, I’m not clear. The model was elegantly balancing it on her shin bones, but if I were to emulate this display it would result in a private Cirque de Soleil show for the sole benefit of my Build a Bear. So I went with the yoga wheel’s other stated use of deepening stretches to justify its purchase.

What I failed to realize was how much balance it required to stay on top of a light, 4″ wide plastic wheel a foot off the ground. What I did realize, but failed to heed, was that I had a bunch of shit on my floor and that probably wasn’t enough space to operate the yoga wheel. Thus, just like this summer, when I fell on my DVD player, I found myself hurtling (as much as one can hurtle 10 inches worth) towards my floor, with time freezing just long enough for me to process (but naturally not long enough to react to) the recognition ‘oh shit, I have no space to put my arms out and catch myself,’ before  tipping over, slamming the same fucking hip into my closet door.

However, unlike the DVD player incident of 2016, where I immediately knew I fucked up and crawled into bed to go to sleep and avoid what would be a totally unflattering reassessment of my life, this time, I was fine. I took a ten inch bump onto a shoddy, builder-grade hollow-core door and some carpet. I didn’t so much fall as I rolled, aggressively and unconsensually.

Yet somehow, I woke up to a fucking potato sized bruise on my hip, and my poor butt cheek was bruised and that didn’t even hit anything.

NEARLY made it to 48 hours of yoga wheel ownership without incident #yoga #yogawheel #idiot

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Thus, the only logical conclusion is I have hemophilia. I did a presentation in Russian History on hemophilia in the Romanov dynasty, and how the transmission could be used to prove Leopold was illegitimate so I’ve always felt kind of a kinship… with hemophilia. Totally normal. Also there was a b-horror movie I watched in 9th grade where the killer was driven to kill because of the isolation they felt as a hemophiliac child, and I thought it was a pretty good twist ending and was surprised no one had exploited hemophilia before for that purpose. I’m sure the hemophilia lobby (?) is relieved, because neither of those examples is a real great reflection on hemophilia, you don’t go to a public relations office and go, yes, we would like more of that, but we don’t always get to choose what associations people have.

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I Googled why people bruise easily because I don’t know if you knew, but I am a fucking doctor, and my alma mater is the Mayo Clinic website. I turned up a whole lot of nothing, besides “are you old?” “did you take ibuprofen?” and “you have hemophilia.” Hemophilia confirmed.

I don’t have hemophilia. I cut my thumb open with a pocket knife my Dad got at a trade show in 4th grade, and I survived dual attacks by a framed autographed poster of Matthew Good and a DVD player. Despite my usual reservations that anyone can confirm they are in fact, alive, it seems I probably haven’t bled to death.

BUT there is hemophilia-lite, which is not a medically accurate description. I’m sure the institute for clotting disorders is like, “go fuck yourself you Russian-sympathizing, Saw knockoff watching bitch, do you know how much we are going to have to pay a PR firm to undo your ignorance” but I maintain it is in fact hemophilia-lite if you just think of hemophilia as bleeding a lot. Which I’m sure they don’t.

Apparently your blood can be slightly wonked, various parts of it refuse to clot to varying degrees, from full on Leopold-grade hemophilia, to your blood is malfunctioning but so mildly so you don’t require treatment. That still wouldn’t explain how I managed to get a billion teeth pulled and came out unscathed, unless I have hemophilia-lite-lite, like if hemophilia was a full suite of Adobe PhotoShop and I had MS Paint. But, when I had my deviated septum fixed, and this is legitimately, one of my biggest regrets, the first time I was allowed to rinse my nose, a fucking softball sized blot clot flopped out and wiggled its way down my sink like a turtle returning to the sea. I had debated filming this event, but talked myself out of it, thinking, you idiot, it’s day surgery, nothing is going to happen. Then I got goth Flubber the blood turtle and have never forgiven myself. Having been relatively healthy and having no other symptoms I didn’t think much of it, but maybe I should have asked the ENT about a giant clump of coagulated blood that turned into a friend, like the plot of a 90s kids movie.

So I’ve got to add this to my list of medical things to get checked out. I’m already getting tested for some pre-diabetes marker, because when my doctor was going over my routine blood test results, she said everything is great but your blood sugar is high, and I said, what do I do, and she said, well sometimes it just happens with medications, and I’m just sitting their like… okay… you’re the doctor… what do I do. Then she looked at my chart, and apparently my blood sugar has been high every time. Stretching back years. I was just never informed.

Despite what falling off a yoga wheel, befriending my own blood clots and eating fake caramel powder covered Chex Mix suggests, quality healthcare tends to be a sticking point with me. But I wasn’t given the opportunity to become enraged because I was too busy fielding questions about the Trump presidency. She threw me off by quizzing me point blank asking who I voted for a second time, the only silver lining being that she probably didn’t write it on my chart the last time. Why isn’t that a violation HIPAA? Can’t you just amend something about the sanctity of the secret ballot to the end? Twice now, I’ve got to run this mental gauntlet, of like, who do I think she voted for? I didn’t have my prescriptions yet. I’m weighing race and age and economic status. Does gender beat being a businessperson? Race beats likely middle to upper middle class? Like stereotype rock paper scissors? Ironically, I’m reduced to dividing my doctor up by competing… voter attributes because I’m afraid of losing health care?

We’re headed towards some sort of, more attention-deficit Orwell or more faux-Puritan Vonnegut future, man.

February week 2? week 3? I don’t even know anymore

Watched The Accountant which seemed like a superhero movie without superpowers in the generally accepted sense. I genuinely wonder what the Autistic community’s opinion of this film is, and I’d they had any input (or financial stake in it.) Liked it though, bang bang shoot em up type movie (or as my Mom described “A BUM BUM BUM,”) with a bit of brooding Ben Affleck Oscar bait-y drama, and a hard left veering happy ending that also favorably compares autistic children to proteges of Dr. Xavier. Like I said, we all thoroughly enjoyed it, but I do wonder how people with Autism feel about it, because I could see it going either way.

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As requested by no one, what I’ve done recently

Oh my God. 2 weeks ago, I got so sick completely out of nowhere. One afternoon I’m enjoying the unseasonably warm weather, getting peppermint cake pops, catching Pokémon in the Starbucks parking lot, preparing for Thanksgiving, and the next day I’m on my ass.

I don’t have a real hearty constitution, and I am a whiny sick baby. I oscillate between self-care and crying in the fetal position and there is no in between. Also I am an emotional eater.

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Pearl

When I was in third grade my parents took me to a sketchy, subterranean pet store off the food court in Hillcrest mall with no windows and a single, incongruous neon sign bearing some nondescript name like BJ’s Pet Emporium where I would be allowed to procure my first pet, a hamster.

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Nothing to say really

Shittiest blog post ever. I went to the gym today and now everything hurts. I did a solid 30 minutes on the stair stepper mostly at the top of my cardio zone which is like, 168, and then tried to push it to the aerobic zone or whatever the f the other zone is at like 173 for a few minutes which of course made me want to vomit almost instaneously and then I had heart cramps even after I cranked that bitch back down because I’m scared of falling off the stair stepper.

And I did some machines and shit. I don’t know. I never feel like I look any different. I have good form. I read stuff about like, macros and I don’t feel like I eat a whole lot, but there’s also f all I like to eat. I like Nandos. I like Panera. I like Diet Coke, weird juice, cheese, just like, pieces of cheese, protein bars, the full fat chocolate Muscle Milk, all baked goods, that’s about it. I can’t alter my diet to eat 3 meals of liver and steamed asparagus a day, I will die.

On top of that my intestines have always been fucked, and I’ve never found out if I have any food allergies, or found any answer beyond “that’s not right” since this healthcare system is stupid. So I could be fat because of that too.

I’m not fat. I’m just frustrated. I feel like I have two modes in my life: in a complete rut, going insane at the unchanginess of things, wondering if they will ever change, terrified that they will not, feeling completely agenciless OR going batshit insane, parlalyzed with fear that things are moving too fast and I have no control over them and everything is complete chaos. Sometimes these feelings are all encompassing, and other times I feel them at the same time towards different parts of my life. Now is one of those times.

I’m mad that I have love handles and a pudgy stomach despite being skinny as fuck generally and eating well at what not. I’m more mad that I have no idea how to change this situation, which could be complicated by a health issue I also can’t get a hold of.

Everything is in chaos because it’s been that way for months, my grandparents house being sold, a medical emergency in the family, people moving here, spending weekends in other places or with other people in my house which I am no longer used to, shit breaking and then having endless people coming in trying to fix it. Trying to figure out whether I’m going to keep taking music lessons when it’s expensive and the administrative side of the business is kind of incompetent and so it’s constant stress just to get their money too them. Blah, not big things. But I don’t have a hearty emotional constitution.

I took an Ambien 2 hours ago and I’m still totally coherent. Riding the wave of wanting things to change and wanting things to stop changing all at the same time.

I had more to say, or something different to say, I can’t even remember. I’m going to go attempt to hydrate and then watch Mr. Robot or something because why not at this point.

Oh and I will add, just because I just remembered it, today was actually a pretty good day. There has been some sort of Pokemon migration and I caught a bunch of Meowths and Haunters/Gastlys and Cubones which were never around before. Ate a decent pretzel bread sandwich with my sister post-gym as we watched some fail videos of cute animals and children. Listened to the new WOR while stuffing Halloween bags and drinking a whiskey/ginger I made out of my good Jack danie’s reserve out of an insulated skippy cup for practicality. I don’t usually drink hard liquor but I treated myself. Decent episode of Project Runway tonight. If I had gotten more singing in, I would have zero complaints.