Momma Mia, Mea Culpa

[Okay people. I have moved passed the initial ‘SHOCK’. I have made it through wading and swimming in the waters of anger and depression. I am beginning the acceptance process. I am sorry that I haven’t been online, or over to any of your blogs. But I’m back. I Am Back.]

I still can’t seem to find the right words to make what I am dealing with truly funny.

And I still can’t figure out exactly how to sell my ‘readers’ on WHY ‘These Annoying Medical Conditions’ That Hijacked The ‘Quality Of My Life’ Which Makes Me Feel ‘Depressed’ And ‘Angry’ Not To Mention ‘Starving’ Leaving Me ‘Anxious’ ‘Totally Self-Conscious’ And ‘Completely Insecure’ While ‘Circling The Emotional Drain’ IS = “Super Awesome.”

Nonetheless, here is my 1st attempt at making ‘light’ of all of the aforementioned situations.

I could…write this post about how scary it is to take all of the required tests in order to determine the severity of ‘These Annoying Medical Conditions.’ I could tell you how much I hate needles that I get so ‘Anxious’ complete with sweaty palms like that of a teenage boy I tend to faint. I could share tales of my superficial rolling veins making it virtually impossible for anyone to draw blood successfully on the first attempt. Or how I feel like a walking science experiment forever on display in a paper gown.

But, I wont.

Instead…I will appreciate the humor when the phlebotomist deemed it appropriate to have my blood drawn in the children’s ward, while my father sought revenge taking photos of me.

(*The Complete Set Of Photos Can Be Found HERE *)

I could…write an endless number of paragraphs about my food allergies. I could write about how I wished I knew that was the last slice of pizza I was ever going to eat, or the last beer I was ever going to drink. Because if I had, I would have eaten a whole pie to myself and washed it down with a case of Corona.

I could…complain for weeks on end, because I can’t eat a hamburger at a barbeque, or a hotdog at a ball game. I could cry from the rooftops about why it’s not fair and how hard it is going to be over the holidays when I will have to sit and watch everyone else eating all of the things I love.

But, I wont.

Instead…I will delve head first into three pounds of Lobster drizzled in obscene amounts of melted buttery goodness. Delighted, in knowing I never have to ‘share’ any of my food. I shall consume all of the sumptuousness and extravagance that are expensive fish products, until I get Mercury Poisoning. (Ah yes! Gluttony Is Good.)

I could…write this post about how when I am in the midst of an allergic reaction Benadryl effects me much like Chloroform works for serial killers while trying to abduct their prey. It leaves me totally incapacitated and unconscious.

But I won’t.

Instead…I will proudly wear my recently crowned nickname ‘Suzie Benadryl’ thanks to one of my favorite people.

I could…write about how I feel ‘Completely Insecure’ and utterly humiliated when dining OUT in a restaurant. I could describe ‘Totally Self-Conscious’ moments when faced with ordering a meal with such specific restrictions.

But I won’t.

Instead…I will find out just how much cheese and bacon one person can eat before succumbing to congestive heart failure.

As for my Crohn’s Disease?

I could…bring up all of the embarrassing moments this illness causes me on a daily basis, and wonder why “Pocket Fabreeze For Crohn’s Disease” hasn’t been invented yet.

I could…go into graphic detail about how unnerving, stressful, and upsetting it is to be a lady and have a ‘leaky ass’ in public.

But I won’t.

Instead…I will inform my readers (or anyone unlucky enough to have Googled something unexpectedly landing them on this page) that HESS Gas Stations deserve the highest compliment on the immaculate restroom conditions they maintain.

I could…post funny pictures of what it is like for me to be trapped in the bathroom during an attack. Because ‘Ya’ll Will Never Know How Much Time I Spend In The Bathroom.’

But, I already did that.

I could…write about how ‘These Annoying Medical Conditions’ gave me a lovely case of hemorrhoids. I could divulge the level of uncomfortable-ness I feel during a flair-up, which is much like having rug burn inside my crack. People can always tell when I am having flair up by the distinctive way I walk. I move with a noticeable slow and methodic pace with a clear ‘call for help’ expression plastered on my face.

But I won’t.

Instead…I will let ya’ll in a little known secret. Preparation-H is merely a sham. Not only is it downright ineffective, no matter how many times you Karen Silkwood scrub your hands, you will never be able to fully remove the residue from your fingers.

Also, please be aware that Tucks Medicated Pad ‘Circles’ should strictly be used for cosmetic purposes only. While they are fantastic at curing hung over or puffy eyes…they are useless for relieving hemorrhoid pain. You would be wise to spend the extra two dollars and upgrade to the larger baby wipes size. Just Sayin’

I could…write this post about how I get so ‘Depressed’ because ‘These Annoying Medical Conditions’ have robbed the ‘Quality Of My Life’ on so many levels. I could justify why I am so ‘Angry’ with the best of reasoning. Or allow myself to become so ‘Anxious’ over things I cannot control, that I have panic attacks just thinking about them. I could ‘Circle The Emotional Drain’ from the crushing debilitating guilt I feel for being such a burden to those around me. I could feel ‘Totally Self-Conscious’ And ‘Completely Insecure’ ranting for days about how my body has betrayed me.

But I won’t.

Instead…I will do my best live my life the best way I can.