so i will keep them open

i know i’ve told you this one thousand times but i will say it again: I HATE MY FUCKING LASIK DOCTORS. yes, i went back to the dildo squad today and they did their usual bullshit routine and said “The eye needs to heal, come back in 6-8 weeks.”
i want to cry but i told myself i shed my last tear over their nonsense, so i’m holding it in. fuck. fuck. fuck.

ok.

in other deteriorating body news, i got the stitches in my face out. the nurse said my face gash looked awesome and it was going to heal beautifully. She took a picture of it with a digital camera and showed it to me. I thought it looked like shit. She said i was awfully young to be getting skin cancer. i said: mmm, not really. then she said: How old are you? I said: 34. She said: “Oh my goodness, i thought you were in your early twenties!” then i punched her in the face.

ok. kidding about the punching part. she was probably the nicest person i have encountered in 5 years. i just feel rotten right now.

im not the only one in the house that feels miserable. my poor little pug has an ear infection. this is a picture of her in the snow. she’s a very cute pug. she’s so loyal and affectionate. i hate it when she feels bad :(

every time i close my eyes i imagine slitting my wrists.

look if you dare

i finally took off the pressure bandage and looked at my stitches! It’s a bigger cut than i thought. 10 stitches. if you are grossed out by such things, proceed no further.

i’m cured

The plastic surgeon, the staff, the nurses, the facility, everything about taking care of my skin cancer today was great (it makes me hate my lasik doctors even more). They only had to go in twice to remove tissue, so it wasn’t too bad at all.

This is how it went down: After they completely numbed the area, they took some skin off. Then I was sent to the waiting room while they reviewed the cells in the lab. The waiting room was cozy comfortable and it was full of old people. We all sat around with bandages on our faces and necks. There was one lady that wasn’t too too old like the rest, I would guess she was in her 40s. She was crying the entire time. Some man was with her trying to comfort her. Her bandage wasn’t even as big as mine was. I don’t know what her deal was, the procedure doesn’t hurt at all. Maybe they told her her’s was fatal? After about 20 minutes, they called me back in to the operating room, removed some more tissue because they said they didn’t get all of it. The 3rd time they got me out of the waiting room, they said everything looked good, so they stitched me up.

And now I have this stylish patch on my face. It’s starting to swell a bit, but thats normal. It also will be bruised. I had low blood pressure when it was over with, so I was lightheaded, a bit dizzy and extremely tired. It’s not uncommon if you lose blood, and it could simply be from dehydration. So I drank alot of water and had some gatorade and now I’m all better.

I get my stitches out Monday. Yay.

no sleep for the dreary

sigh. Tomorrow i’m going to the plastic surgeon to get a bit of skin cancer removed from my face. I’m actually thrilled to have a legitimate excuse to skip school. Not that one excused absence will make the 8 unexcused absences less sinister. Laaa teeeee dah.
I’m getting up at 5:30 am for my early early appointment and I cannot sleep tonight. How delightful.

My mother is upstairs sleeping. She’s staying the night because she wants to go with me tomorrow so she can drive me home afterwards. Weird. She’s SOOO not the mothering type, but whatever–I’m throwing her a bone. The doctor’s office said I would need someone to drive me home but that seems entirely unnecessary. It’s not like I’m getting a growth in my brain removed. All this overreaction makes me irritable.

She’s terrified of dogs, did i tell you that? My boyfriend (and cellmate) has a black lab. And I have a pug. My mother can actually tolerate my little dog (as long as I’m in the room). But the big dog has to suffer solitude in the garage for the duration of her stay. My mother tells this ridiculous story about herself as an infant, being on a porch in a crib or something and a dog taking graham crackers out of her mouth. hahaha. This is her phobia explanation. She’s delusional.

brain squash

Clouds, rain, bring it.