Stories. Not a blog.

“Do not be so open-minded that your brains fall out.”

(feel free to skip. this is definitely an incoherent rant against myself and a lot of medical professionals.)

On Thursday (1/20) around 10 AM I got a call from my primary care doctor asking me if I was going to be able to attend my 2 PM appointment. I had completely forgotten that I had scheduled it for the 20th, and after telling my boss I needed to leave early I made my way to the other side of town, where I was treated for severe insomnia, hives, stress and a bunch of other crap I don't feel quite comfortable talking about (just yet).

My doctor prescribed some medication for sleep and anxiety and I was told to wait for my dermatologist appointment on the 25th to see how my hives were doing. Fast forward two days (1/22) later and I (unfortunately) ended up at another clinic, talking to a nurse despite having uncomfortable chest paints that made it difficult to breathe and itchiness that is still lingering.

The nurse suggested that I get in touch with the virtual clinic to ask for refills of the prescription I had been given, but after they refused I was forced to spend an excruciating day in complete discomfort. I could barely walk, I looked as if I had been whipped, and my body was swollen beyond recognition. My face looked awful and my joints hurt, and to top it all off I slept an average of 2.5 hours that day.

On Sunday, after taking a shower, I went to Urgent Care (and ended up missing 4 days of work), where I was misdiagnosed by a doctor who told me my condition was a combination of (probably) COVID (negative), strep throat (negative), a UTI infection (negative) and a bunch of other shit that ended up also coming out negative and/or normal—and maybe work-related stress. I spent two-and-a-half hours sitting in a cold ass room without much communication from a nurse or doctor, and while sitting there, I had the strangest sensation that I was being watched through the computer's camera lens.

Before being discharged I was (unfortunately) not given any medication to alleviate my symptoms (I was encouraged to try Benedryl and Ibuprofen, which ended up making things worse), despite the extreme discomfort I was in, and after spending another excruciating two days in bed I finally went to my dermatologist, who spoke to me for about five minutes and gave me a prescription that has done me wonders.

Apparently, the hives on my body are a direct result of work-related stress/general stress, and going forward I will have to take extra care to be as relaxed and calm as possible (ha!). We'll see how long that lasts, but at least the physical pain is gone and the redness and itchiness are on their way out.

I feel a lot better now and my body is mostly back to normal. I have a few patches of redness splattered across my face and legs, but compared to the way things looked I cannot complain. I am still having a bit of trouble breathing, but only if I lay in bed for too long. Otherwise things have been OK and I have two more weeks of medicine to finish before going back for a follow-up appointment with my dermatologist.

I went back to work today and after a few stressful emails, phone calls, and devastating news, I called it a day and relaxed (a little) by reading a few books and writing this little rant. Hopefully the weekend will be much better. The Lord knows I could use the uninterrupted rest.


C. W.

I got a call from a nurse around 8AM on 1/18 and by 8:30 AM a prescription had been sent to my pharmacy. I went to pick it up around noon and so far no significant changes. The overall itchiness has decreased significantly, but the red marks around, making my face, chest, neck, torso, back and legs are still making me feel miserable.

I am going to reach out again to let them know my symptoms have not improved and that I am willing to try something new. I hate living like this—it is very uncomfortable!—and I've noticed that although the itching has decreased the red marks are appearing more frequently now, and in larger areas of my frail yet gorgeous body....hmph.

I've never had this happen before, but maybe age is a factor? Well see. I thankfully have a dermatologist appointment next week and maybe something can be figured out there.


C. W.

I've had hives all over for the past week and yesterday I booked myself my first virtual visit. I answered a fuckload of questions, uploaded some pictures, and now I wait. A nurse is supposed to get back to me sometime today with results and possibly a prescription; and I am really nervous. I've never booked an online visit, and my fear is that it “won't work”. I hate going to the doctor's office and this seemed like a “safe” option, but only time will tell. I feel like something mystical may be going on with these hives, but perhaps that's the child in me talking?


C. W.

I have a heavy pressure in my chest and I feel slightly paranoid; I think writing will help, so here I am.

Work has been steadily busy. I like it, but lack of sleep makes things incredibly overwhelming (sometimes). Work makes me feel paranoid and stressed more than anything else (currently), but I have been repeating a little song I heard a couple of weeks ago to myself when things get tough and it has made a difference. Who knew?


I am not afraid of getting old. I look forward to wrinkly skin, aching joints, thinning hair, using a cane or walker; I look forward to it all, because getting old means I survived. I made it. I didn't quit (on my hopes, my dreams, my aspirations and desires; I didn't quit on myself.) I proved my toxic upbringing and my demons wrong. I made it—and I was here to stay (and I was mentally OK with it.)

I am not afraid of getting old. But I do fear becoming a resentful, jaded, and depressed (old) woman. I do not want to be unhappy forever. (and) I fear losing my spark. I fear losing the best parts of my self (those that are here and those that are on their way). I fear it. I hate it.

And if I grow to be a bitter woman, then I do not want to keep living. (or do I? I won't know until I get there, right? So, should I give myself a chance?)

I “celebrated” my birthday last week and (for the first time in a very long time) I actually enjoyed it. I went out to eat with my sister and then, as fancy people do, we Uber-ed to the museum, where an inappropriate choice in shoes screwed both of us up. The rest of the day was super calm and relaxed, and I finished a book I's started the day before. That's it. That was my day. I spent it with someone I really cared about and (surprise! surprise!) I enjoyed turning older for the first time in my adult life.


C. W.

A while back I wrote a story about my first computer, and at the end of that story I briefly talked (i.e., mentioned in passing) about that one time my mother and I watched porn together—on accident. Since writing that little blurb the memory of that awful day has haunted my waking hours and now that sufficient time has gone by, I believe the time is good and ripe to explain the before, during, and after of that horribly awkward and embarrassing moment.

Ok, here we go….

I was a gentle and naïve child before this unfortunate event occurred. Our computer was brand new and after getting over the excitement of owning something so fancy and cool, I remember innocently going on a wild internet search to find an email provider (AOL, our dial-up internet provider, did not have the username I wanted available). Everyone at school who owned a computer had one yours truly was not going to be the exception.


Despite being a little sick and feeling physically tired, I feel really content right now. I feel at peace. I feel like a burden has been lifted off my chest, but I don't know when or why that burden was lifted (why was I even carrying it in the first place?). It feels strange but good. It is very rare for me to feel this way, so I am going to enjoy it for as long as it lasts.

I'm working on a story (2 GIRLS 1 CUP) and feel very optimistic about where it is going. If not this week, then the next. :)

Hope you have a good night.


C. W.

Here are a few things that were on my mind all of last week ((Nov.7-13, 2021). (If I find this soothing I may start doing this every Sunday!)

  1. I loathe and despise Christmas with a passion, and I hate that my family loves it so much (that last bit is me being a selfish dickhead). The holiday itself is super lame and participating “in it” feels like an obligation and a burden. This year might be the year I officially say “FUCK IT” and end up not celebrating “it” or buying anything for anyone. December is a pretty difficult month for me as is and Christmas makes it even worse. The stress and anxiety is awful and my depression sinks to the lowest of the low during this month. Over the years I have tried hinting and outright explaining why I don't like this holiday (and December as a whole) and no one ever seems to listen. My pleas as supplications go unheard and things continue as “normal”. I am considering renting a hotel room and taking my dog with me; so that I can be alone and at peace from then until the end of the year (or at least the 24th and 25th). Maybe if I'm able to “do” Christmas on my own terms my opinion of it will change? We'll see what happens...

I've been working from home for three days now and I kinda hate it. I know most people who work—and who don't already work from home—hope and dream and pray and wish for the opportunity of finding a good-paying job that gives them as much flexibility as mine does.

And believe me, I'm very happy and thankful and grateful for this amazing and wonderful opportunity (that will end sometime in 2022 once my company decides to bring everyone back into the office) but if I'm being 100% honest, I really hate that I don't have a morning routine anymore.

Before I was allowed to work from home I would get up at 6:00 AM, I would read or write for a little bit, and when 6:30 AM hit I would haul my punk ass out of bed and I would hop in to the shower. Twenty minutes later I would be out and fully dressed (in jeans, a pajama shirt and a cozy sweater), and I would spend the next 40 minutes chatting with my family, eating breakfast in unrivaled peace, and, every now and then, reading or watching TV. Once 7:45 AM hit I would walk out the door and make my way to work; (pleasantly) enjoying the sunrise as I traveled past the bougie million dollar homes on Summit Avenue and the mildly pathetic “hustle and bustle” of downtown.


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