Hi.
So it’s been a while since I’ve written. I’m sorry. Well…I guess it’s only Tuesday so it hasn’t been that long, but still, enough’s happened since the last time I wrote that I really should have tried to find the time to write before now, but I didn’t/couldn’t so now here I am.
Hello.
So Saturday night was an experiment gone…okay. Kinda horrible, but kinda awesome at the same time. Every year since (I believe) 2009, Toronto has put on this thing called Nuit Blanche where the entire city is full of art of all types from performance to giant Lite Brite boards in the middle of the street where 2L pop bottles are the pegs, from dusk ’til dawn. At this year’s Nuit Blanche, Art House Co-Op, the people responsible for A Million Little Pictures, The Sketchbook Project and The Fiction Project were in town at 401 Richmond with their Photomobile where Blake, our friend Charlie and myself each had work and we wanted to see the whole thing in person so we decided that Charlie would fly into town for the weekend and we’d go.
First, let it be known that I don’t meet “internet people”. I used to, hell I used to post on my Live Journal where I was going to be beforehand SO internet people would show up in the interest of promoting Scratching Post, but then I had one or two bad experiences too many and got turned off the practice fairly quickly. Meeting Charlie would be the first time in probably about 8 years that I’d be meeting someone from the internet and I was a bit nervous about it. Blake had met Charlie before when they went out for dinner last year because Blake was working in the city and that’s where Charlie happened to be and since Blake thought he was a pretty decent person, I wasn’t *too* nervous or at least no more nervous than I would be meeting anyone for the first time. So that was a plus.
There was some last minute “where do we eat?” drama that needed to be taken care of because it had to be close to the venue or I wouldn’t be able to get there on foot with my walker and wherever we ate had to have *something* on the menu that I could actually eat. We settled on a vegan restaurant called Fresh on Spadina which was about a block from the venue and which also had sweet potato fries AND a make-your-own-juice option. I love drinking. I don’t know if I’ve ever really mentioned this about myself but I absolutely love drinks. Liquids are my friends. Liquids have never betrayed me (except for that one unfortunate event in the hospital involving chocolate milk). So I got the aforementioned sweet potato fries (which were just alright) and a strawberry, orange, cherry and pomegranate juice which sounds lovely in theory but in practice was sour as hell because I didn’t ask them to add agave nectar and immediately heartburn inducing, which is a very bad thing when you’re prone to puking your guts up, so I’d take a sip of juice, then a sip of water. Blake & Charlie got tofu burgers. Blake’s had thai peanut sauce on it that looked like diarrhea and Charlie got one with sauteed mushrooms, which I was envious of because I love mushrooms and I would have got a side order of those if I knew it was an option (it wasn’t on the menu as such, so I suppose it probably wasn’t an option).
When dinner was finished, I was feeling pretty good, no real nausea to speak of, so we went to the art gallery that was hosting the Photomobile, which was multi-leveled and we started watching the flamenco dancers as we’d agreed upon beforehand. I used the little seat on my walker to sit while Blake and Charlie stood behind me and Charlie told us a bit about the history of that type of dancing and how he’d seen it before when he’d spent time in Spain. As he was telling us this, the first wave of nausea hit where I thought I might be okay, that it was *just* nausea and that I wouldn’t puke, but then the second wave hit and I asked Blake to scope out a bathroom sooner rather than later. He found one and came back and we left Charlie to watch the rest of the performance while I left my walker outside the bathroom with Blake and in I went, into the handicap stall so I’d have room to kneel down and pretty much as soon as I did, I started hurling. Violently. Now, the problem with puking in a public bathroom when you’re me, as opposed to a bowl on my bed, is that my legs still aren’t that strong and I had a HELL of a time getting back up. I thought I was going to have to call Blake on my cell phone to come in and help get me up off the floor because I just couldn’t do it and after barfing like that, I was left feeling pretty weak. Luckily though, I made it up, I blew the vomit out of my nose, rinsed my mouth with water, got a piece of gum and was ready to go.
Charlie had spoken to a woman who worked for the gallery prior to his flying out here, to make sure that there would be wheelchair/walker access to the Photomobile and since there wasn’t really, she arranged for us to go down to the loading dock, where the Photomobile was, in their freight elevator and the elevator operator would stay with us to take us back up when we were finished which was VERY nice of her and VERY thoughtful of Charlie.
So apres vomitage, we headed down to the Photomobile where, as it turned out, each of us had 2 photographs in the exhibit. We tried to find our photos on our own, but I could only find one of mine (one of the shots of Wes, but not the best shot), Blake only found one of his and Charlie couldn’t find any of his at all, so we had to ask the organizer for assistance, which we got, and our photos were found. I took my camera with me and took pictures of our pictures but they were kinda dark/blurry and you guys have already seen the scanned ones (if you read my last post) anyway so I didn’t upload those to post here this time. My second photo was one of Blake and Madison, Blake’s second photo was a crappy, blurry one of two mini flower pots on our windowsill and both of Charlie’s were carnival shots. I think one was a ride of some sort and one was of a concession stand, both night shots and both better than mine or Blake’s (bastard!). In hindsight what I should have taken a picture of was the Photomobile itself so you could see how it was set up but I never even thought of that until about half an hour ago. Oops.
I was feeling pretty sick/wiped out after the Photomobile so we had the elevator operator drop us off at the basement where artists were making art and we milled around there for a while just shooting the shit until it got to the point where I felt like I was going to start passing out, so we took the inner elevator up to the ground floor, Blake pulled the car around, we said good-bye to Charlie and we started driving toward home.
The drive was pretty uneventful.
When we got home, I had Blake help me out of my clothes and into my hospital gown as fast as possible because I was feeling like I was going to hurl again and as soon as we got my gown on, I grabbed the bowl on the bed and barfed up the rest of my dinner. Then I checked e-mail, e-mailed Charlie (or maybe that was Sunday morning, I forget) and went to bed.
So that was basically my weekend.
Today was another hectic day because today was the day I’d be seeing my surgeon. To be fair, it wasn’t supposed to be hectic, things just turned out that way.
First, Blake woke me up early. I hate waking up early. But at least I didn’t have to get up as early as my mother, who lives about an hour and 15 minutes away from us and who would be accompanying us to the doctor’s office. So I got up early, got washed up, got dressed (with Blake’s help) and we waited for her because we were all going to go in our car.
My mom got here and we shot the shit for a bit while Blake finished up some work because technically he worked from home today, and then it was time to leave so we did. (Riveting! I know!)
I should also mention that until today at 3pm, I was vac-free because the doctor would want to see my cheese pizza wound, so yesterday when Siske came, she put on a “traditional dressing”, as opposed to the vac dressing because the vac dressing is a pain in the ass to put on for one day and it hurts like hell when they take it off. Also, you can’t just take a vac dressing off a bit of the way to “take a peek” and retape it because you break the seal, so it was decided that a traditional dressing was the way to go and that consisted of some gauze laid over the wound, followed by this big bad thing, and then the whole thing taped down with the same drape they use for the vac that looks like Mac-Tak (not sure if I spelled that correctly, think clear vinyl shelf paper). That way the doctor could take it almost all of the way down to look at the wound and then put it back with more drape.
So we get to the doctor’s office and almost immediately we’re put into an exam room (so much for the myth of Canadian waiting times) even though we were early. Not 5 minutes later, the doctor was in there with us and she had me up on the table to look at my wound. The good news is that it’s healing a LOT faster than expected (cuz I’m muthafuckin’ WOLVERINE *snick snick*), the bad news is that it’s a little bit infected. To fight the infection, she’s asked the nurses to dress it with silver somehow, like in a cream (??) underneath the vac dressing but the order wasn’t sent out until after Siske was here so we won’t be doing that until Friday.
The doctor asked me how I was feeling so I told her about all of the barfing and she prescribed me a drug called domperidone which basically pushes food through you faster. Her theory on what has been happening is that my stomach is so messed up by my organs being all over the place that food sits in my stomach longer than the body thinks is permissible and so instead of sending it down, it comes up instead. This drug will remedy that and just based on using it today before lunch, I agree. I haven’t eaten a whole ton today (so far) but I haven’t thrown any of it up either when just last week I barfed up THREE GODDAMN RASPBERRIES. I just took my second dose of it now with intentions of eating in about half an hour and I’m almost positive I won’t feel sick afterward.
The doctor wanted to see another CAT scan of my abdomen, blood work and a urine test before making any surgical decisions today, so she made some calls and the hospital said I could come in “right now” and they’d do the CAT scan. So off we went to the hospital where I was given a gown and a housecoat and asked to wait in the waiting room with my posse. Five minutes later (oh, damn those Canadian wait times!) they called my name and I was brought to the nurse’s room where I had to drink this fucking nasty dye in two cups of orange juice. Then they told me to wait while they called the lab to have someone come down and take blood to check my creatine levels to make sure my kidneys could handle the IV kind of dye (which had been an issue when I was in the hospital before). While we waited, the nurse put an IV in the crook of my right arm “just in case” (I hate that) and by the time she was finished, the lab guy was there to take blood so she got out of the way for him and he poked and prodded and then he gave me the bad news that the only decent vein he could find was on my ring finger’s knuckle which is a VERY painful place to have blood drawn from. Possibly the worst. And even then, when you draw blood from there, you don’t get as much blood as you would from other sites and he only got 1/2-3/4 of a vial.
After he was finished, the nurse said I could go in the waiting room with Blake and my mom because I had to wait another 45 minutes or so for the dye to take effect so that’s what I did. The whole time trying really hard not to puke it all up even though there was a nice, clean, inviting garbage can within spitting distance of where I was sitting. Oh and for anyone who cares, I now weigh 55kg or 121 lbs. Before I got sick, I weighed around 160 lbs and at the height of my fluid retention, I weighed 220 lbs.
Anyway, when it was my turn (I waited no more than 10 minutes over the time it would have taken the dye to take effect), they escorted me to the CT room and a lady helped me lay on my back on the slidey tray thing and they did the first round of images. Then one of the techs came in, while I was still deep in the machine, with my arms over my head, and hooked up my IV to…something, I couldn’t see. He held my hands while the lady in the booth injected the dye, which was a very strange experience. First it makes you feel really warm like you’re having a hot flash, then it makes you feel like you’ve pee’d your pants. Once the dye was in me, the guy left the room and the lady started the machine back up for the next series of images. Then I was finished and the guy slid me out and he asked me what caused all of “this” so I explained to him that a gallstone clogged my pancreatic duct and everything kinda went to hell from there. I should also mention that this tech had seen me earlier when I was in the nurse’s office and he recognized me because he was the tech for the two times they drained my lungs. Who knew I was so memorable?
After that we had to go to the lab, which was down the road from the hospital. The hospital lab doesn’t do outpatient blood work anymore, which is why we had to go to the second location. When we got there, they saw me right away (again, with the cursed wait times!) and the lady had a fairly easy time finding a vein in the crook of my arm which pissed me off because the hand one fucking HURT and the guy didn’t even really TRY to find a vein in my arm. Also the nurse who put my IV in had little to no trouble finding a vein to put my IV in either so I conclude that the lab guy was a DOUCHE.
Then I had to pee in a little plastic jar and of course I pee’d all over my hand because for some reason, I find the older I get, the harder it is to pee into one of those little bottles. Maybe it’s because I have bigger vulva than I did when I was a kid? That’s my theory because when I was a kid and I had to do it (I used to get a lot of bladder infections), I could fit my entire genitalia inside the jar and that’s just not possible now. Also now there’s hair which misdirects all over the damn place, making things difficult. But I did it and that was that and we came home and then my mom went home and then Siske came and put the vac dressing on me and then Blake got me a 4″ sub for lunch from Subway but they put too much pepper on it so I gave it to Madison after about 4 bites and that was basically my whole day. I’ve just been internetting ever since Siske left, pretty much.
Two observations of my surgeon though, good signs if you will:
1. She has the top part of the bridge of her nose pierced. She wears glasses at the office to cover it up but I bet she wears contacts during her off hours.
2. She has a tattoo on her foot. Something small and Celtic-y.
These two things obviously impressed me. Another thing is that Siske has nothing but nice things to say about her, going so far as to say that if she ever needed ANY type of surgery, she’d want my surgeon to do it. Siske says she’s the best. Plus I just really like her, she’s down to earth and no bullshit. I kinda wish she were my big sister.
So that was my day.
Now I have two things to show you. First, my trache hole, which the doctor says I don’t have to bandage anymore:

Second…I can’t remember if I mentioned this before but during my time at St. Mike’s where I was unconscious most of the time, I developed a pretty huge bedsore on the back of my head, which has only just healed itself. This bedsore is surrounded by a rather large bald spot where the hair is just starting to grow back. I was really embarrassed about it so I wasn’t going to show you guys, but I’m kind of over that now, it’s not like it was my fault and my hair covers it so you can’t even see it, so what the fuck, here it is:


These pics were taken on Thursday or Friday.
Okay, now I’m going to eat my dinner and put my tired ass to bed.
Hope everyone had a great day!