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Some Kind of Thursday

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 It's Thursday again. I am not surly today. Neither am I serene. On the May long week-end (Canadian), Ottawa was hit by a derecho, a term I had never heard before and would happily never hear again. Defined as "a line of intense, widespread, and fast-moving windstorms and sometimes thunderstorms that moves across a great distance and is characterized by damaging winds", it was an extremely violent and destructive event that took down a ton of trees, caused a lot of property damage and had some people powerless for ten days. We got off pretty easy, which we appreciated extra because we were sick with Covid at the time.  For the last couple of days the environmental news was full of dire forecasts for today, including a tornado watch. I think we all have a touch of PTSD, and I think this precipitated a small-scale but significant mental health crisis for me. I knew rationally that it was better for us to know, that we should just do what we could to prepare and then let the

Surly Thursday

It's been a while since I had a full head of surliness to vent on the appropriate day. None of it is really that bad, and none of it is really personal, and mostly I think I might have been intractably, irredeemably cranky today anyway. 1. I have a sleep study booked tonight to check whether my CPAP settings need to be adjusted. In a way I'm glad it's happening because it needs to happen. In a way it's one more fucking medical test in a line of the blood pressure-monitoring-mammogram-biopsy-bloodwork train over the last month that makes me think maybe I wouldn't be feeling so mortal right now if I could go a few days in a row without being reminded of all the things that might be about to kill me. Also, I was so proud of myself that when they called to schedule they said 'how about Wednesday night'? and I said I only actually have to be at work two days a week, maybe it could not be the night before one of those days? and they said sure! Thursday night? and

Worry Checklist

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 This is going back a couple of weeks because "time's lost all meaning" keeps climbing to new heights. But a couple of weeks ago, a few not-catastrophic but not-awesome things happened in quick succession: I had a biopsy done on the mass in my breast. The doctor and nurse could not have been lovelier, everything was explained really well and the care was compassionate in the extreme. But I reacted badly to the tape over the gauze, so in addition to massive bruising and a small healing incision I had a couple of really painful lesions on my boob and the whole thing looked like it had been mauled. My dad has been having a weird pain under his rib cage for going on two months now. He's had x-rays, ultrasounds, bloodwork and one really stupid physiotherapy appointment over the phone (who the fuck thought that was a good idea). The pain was worse again so I took him to my physiotherapist and talked to his doctor about getting him some pain relief, because "I don't

Real Talk

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 I am a hot mess. I had a great conversation today with friends in an ongoing Facebook chat (ongoing for ... I don't know how to check how many years now - Hannah? Nicole? Any idea?) about how two of us were hanging back from the conversation because we were struggling and didn't feel like burdening the others with our complaints, even though we know rationally that whenever we do, everyone is compassionate and supportive, and we feel better. One of depression's major Insult to Injury Features is that it both takes you out at the knees and whispers in your ear that your pain is unearned and unimportant and no one will believe you or care.  But first, the good stuff: Watch this space! Ready? THERE'S AN EVE IN IT! We stowed a couple of things (microwave, bedside table drawers, bin of dishes) in Matt's brother's garage not too far away because she wasn't going to have access to her house until May. We had pretty easily fit everything in the Rav going down, with

Pressure: The Prequel

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 We are going to Hamilton tomorrow and moving Eve home on Wednesday, for today's entry in the Time's Lost All Meaning Files. She will be sad to leave her friends there, which is a good thing, and happy to get home and reconnect with her home friends, which is also good. She is working on her last exam which is a paper right now and, predictably, I am getting a steady stream of aggrieved texts about how hard and stupid it is. It is an Argumentation course, and she's read me some of the prompts, and they do sound odd and convoluted and difficult to parse. I am very much on the side of it doesn't need to be perfect, it just needs to be done. I slept badly and hardly at all last night, so I felt weird and out of phase at work. I'm a little weary of working in a library with no students. Even the relatively high number of challenging students at my other school are preferable to wandering around like a ghost doing library stuff that feels pointless (it's not really).

Pressure: The Sequel

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 I'm kind of stuck at home having my arm squished every half hour, so might as well try to make up somewhat for my recent blog neglect. So yesterday I was whining about having to do the 24-hour bp marathon today. I had done a little reading and gotten myself into a fine state (yes, I'm aware of the irony). From what I found, I wasn't supposed to drive, but no one had told me this when booking the appointment. Matt was due to leave for the airport right around the time of my appointment (Air Canada still has mask and vaccine mandates - I'm not thrilled with him traveling, but it's better than it could be), so he wasn't able to drive me. I decided I was just going to drive myself and if we had to reschedule that was on them. I also read that I wouldn't be able to take the monitor off at all for 24 hours, and I wouldn't be able to bathe or shower. I know this is a first-world thing, but I have major sensory issues, and I have a cool shower a minimum of twic

Pressure

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Welp, I just sat here staring at the blank screen for an hour, periodically clicking away to scroll Twitter and be mad at idiots against masking or idiots denying that racism exists or idiots freaking out over transgender teenagers (there was that one really funny video of an angry turtle, at least). I'm not going to bed without blogging, so ugly and disjointed it will be.  I am struggling badly. I had a bit of a depression reprieve at the end of March. I hoped I was out of the woods. I have an appointment on Wednesday for a 24-hour blood pressure monitor and a repeat ultrasound on the complex cyst in my breast on Friday, so maybe I'm just anxious. My blood pressure tends to be high in the doctor's office and normal at home, and my dad has white coat syndrome (where your blood pressure is high because you're at the doctor's office having your blood pressure measured - sort of like a Heisenberg particle/wave deal) so we've been assuming it was that, but my doctor