Monthly Archives: October 2009
I was feeling fairly hopeful on the MW#1 email of DOOOOM front, but as the days have passed the harder things have got; although I try not to sometimes I initiate conversation with him online, but they inevitably tail off when he seems to lose interest. He told me not to worry about the email – he knows I worry about things – which I took as a sign that it might not be all doom and disaster. I now realise however that perhaps he was telling me not to worry in that there is no point worrying over the inevitable i.e. the “It’s not you, it’s me” statement?
The last email of DOOOOM I received from him was after the whole lying about having a girlfriend episode; I remember how he didn’t bother to fight for my friendship, finally admitting fault but in doing so giving me absolutely no comeback. I will always remember his signing off sentence:
“I will always hope that you are well”
UGH! What a frakking cop-out. You can’t just admit fault and then walk away, friendship or non-consensual arrangement. You’ve got to cool down, think things over and then at least try to talk. Try. Make efforts towards solving the problem; even if things are broken beyond the point of repair at least you can both say you have tried.
I’ve been in this arrangement for years so you’d think that a while – a week, a month, three months, who knows? – wouldn’t make a huge amount of difference. But o, the waiting! It’s like that bit in Grosse Pointe Blank where Jeremy Piven before he was cool‘s character is exclaiming over and over how long its been since he last saw his highschool buddy John Cusack. I feel like that, but I don’t drive a Beamer…
Three years! THREE YEARS! Thrrrreeeee yearrrs!
The ibuprofen took the edge off and a hot shower has helped greatly; my finger is still stiff and very sore and I still have trouble bending it but the pain is lessened and gripping and typing is a lot easier. Hurrah. I await further developments…
Why is it I look at least five years younger than I am yet the nasal polyps, breast tissue thickening and potentially arthritic finger are all conditions not generally seen in someone my age? What is going on here Goshdarnit…?
To my great confusion and consternation this morning I woke up to find that the middle finger of my right hand was experiencing a great deal of pain; it is swollen and seriously painful when I try to open or close it as part of a fist and is really sore when resting. I can feel the blood pulsing through it from the middle joint through to my knuckle; it is getting worse and I am waiting to see if ibuprofen will take the edge off it…
If not, i’ll take more and then if that doesn’t work i’ll make yet another appointment with the medical powers that be. It concerns me because it’s getting worse and if it continues into next week i’m not actually sure how i’ll get on with gripping the steering wheel of my car; at least the surgery is only a half hour’s walk away if I need to go.
I haven’t bumped it, squashed or crushed it nor twisted it in ways it should not go. Maybe it’s the first sign of arthritis? This would be FUN. The swelling and pain is confined to the one finger and joint although the pain is starting to be transferred down my arm a bit and the surrounding fingers are also slightly swollen. In the space of an hour or so it has got more painful to the point where I have shed a couple of tears; doing things like filling the kettle for coffee have been a bit challenging however I have discovered that holding my hand under warm running water takes the edge off the deep throbbing pain. UGH. Please go away…
Guardian – Inquiry fails to find single trafficker who forced anybody into prostitution
“The UK’s biggest ever investigation of sex trafficking failed to find a single person who had forced anybody into prostitution in spite of hundreds of raids on sex workers in a six-month campaign by government departments, specialist agencies and every police force in the country.”Guardian – Prostitution and trafficking – the anatomy of a moral panic
“The failure has been disclosed by a Guardian investigation which also suggests that the scale of and nature of sex trafficking into the UK has been exaggerated by politicians and media.”
“However, the key point is that on the sidelines of a debate which has been dominated by ideology, a chorus of alarm from the prostitutes themselves is singing out virtually unheard. In the cause of protecting “thousands” of victims of trafficking, Harriet Harman, the deputy Labour leader and minister for women and equality, has led the parliamentary campaign for a law to penalise men who pay for sex with women who are “controlled for gain” even if the men do so in genuine ignorance.”Follow this up with: Guardian – Comment Is Free – Sex trafficking is no illusion. The comments rebutting the article that is trying to rebut the original are excellent…
“Repeatedly, prostitutes groups have argued that the proposal is as wrong as the trafficking estimates on which it is based, and that it will aggravate every form of jeopardy which they face in their work, whether by encouraging them to work alone in an attempt to show that they are free of control or by pressurising them to have sex without condoms to hold on to worried customers. Thus far, their voices remain largely ignored by news media and politicians who, once more, have been swept away on a tide of misinformation.”
I spent hours lying awake last night attempting to sleep; I felt too warm but was too cold with the duvet off and thoughts about MW#1’s looming letter kept my mind going until the very small hours.
Today I thought about him and the letter as I carefully filled in an irregular shape in the cubist web of a pupil’s portrait; as I dragged the paintbrush along I watched the intense blue of the watercolour fill the space and thought, “Oh, blue line… Hmmm… MW#1” It was a peaceful feeling like some sort of weird meditative practice? Not that I do that sort of thing, but perhaps it was because I was concentrating on helping my student with her brush control that I had a sort of quiet moment where the emotions were distanced but acknowledged? Fuck knows, but I found it interesting when it happened.
Perhaps it’s because i’m tired from having little sleep but I feel better about it than I did last night. It’s more out of my hands now, which is frustrating in that i’m unable to express my thoughts and feelings about everything as I just have to wait and see, but then I can at least gauge his thoughts on the matter and act accordingly.
It’s an odd thing- This is another example of MW#1 thinking about things I would never think he would consider; there have been a fair few examples of this and it surprises me every time. It’s nice to think i’m not alone in my feelings but at the same time it feels a little weird. My behaviour is shaped by the lack of security in our non-consensual arrangement so even in Berlin I was unable to fully “be”- I was being careful to be extra easygoing because it was our first experience of spending extended time in each other’s company (though that didn’t stop me taking the piss of course :D); at many a point I felt very unsure of things, was confused by just what I was- A friend with benefits to holiday with or…?
The whole security issue is a BIG one- I feel I can’t act how i’d like to act, be or share or ask for things because i’m a full-time casual acquaintance, because he’s seeing/fucking other people etcetera and is unable to commit. Berlin proved (to me at least!) that we get on well in each other’s company; we are of course absolutely woeful at expressing how we feel, talk about problems etcetera, but I would hope that with security a bit more confidence on my part would appear. I don’t know whether this is wishful thinking.
I am nervous at what might be in the letter; things are slowly moving to some sort of conclusion perhaps? Or perhaps not, and whatever happens i’m sure the fallout will last for a very long time indeed…
Oh dear. After all my rantyness I am to expect an email explaining MW#1’s recent uncommunicativeness towards me; I am now bracing myself for an email of DOOOOOM. I’ve butterflies and an increasing sense of dread- Which is a load of malarky really given all that’s happened over the last few years. But who the fuck said this had to make any sort of sense. JOY.
So the lump i’m carting round and the over-excitable lymph node under my are are all officially benign. Hooray. The lump isn’t a Fibroadenoma but general hormonal thickening, fibrocystic I think (the nurse wasn’t terribly clear). I have to go back in a month to talk to the consultant about surgery options, i.e. the pros and cons of having my lump removed; I’m leaning towards having it taken out but the more info I have the more sure I will feel.
I treated myself to some products from the Golden Arches in celebration of my cancer-free boob; perhaps it was more like comfort food than celebratory. I am happy that it is going to require nowt but an operation but I still feel a bit glum as the evening has worn on and life became quiet, or at least even more quiet than it usually is.
I suppose it’s because i’m going to bed too late, but I feel extra tired and so this encourages the glum. The glum happens too when I try things on and see my stomach bulging over everything or rounding out my t-shirts. Ugh. All of this and more then makes me wish I could curl up somewhere warm and dark with someone who would not mind the flab, the sniffling, the twitching, just holding me as I dozed off. Someone who wouldn’t mind if my breast was slightly smaller and a bit dented or scarred or had an inverted nipple.
I would hope that anyone I chose to be intimate with would simply accept these potential problems along with my other flaws…
Hooray! There’s the possibility I might get to squeeze into the rubber dress once again and actually go out for Hallowe’en this year…
BANG FACE 70
This evening I made Sausages in Wine-maker’s Sauce:
Plonk sausages (I chose pork and venison with red wine) into an oven-proof dish and fill with approximately 400ml of Beaujolais until the wine is half way up the side of the sausages. Drizzle with olive oil or butter and then shove in an oven that’s at 200C for one hour. Baste occasionally. Serve with mash and steamed cabbage.
Lazy food at it’s finest, and rather tasty too – Though I did add some balsamic vinegar and a stock cube to the sauce just to take the edge off (I think the wine needed longer).
I have passed a pleasant evening of an easy dinner, accompanied with hot Frenchmen and well-written dialogue on Spiral before doing lots of washing-up, cleaning the shower and de-furring the showerhead. Efficient. Lots of mess everywhere else of course :)
I’m tired and a bit glum; the mass in my boob feels very strange indeed at the moment- extra hard and nodular, I guess from where the samples were taken. C’est bizarre. I feel like making a big nest and curling up for quite a while, preferably with a purveyor of warm manfur within arm’s reach. Sigh.
ALWAYS listen to your Art Teacher- When we tell you not to do something, DON’T:
Girl loses fingers in school art lesson
The pupil in question did not follow the instructions given and was pretty fucking stupid to do what she did; the school is at fault however because whomever was supposed to be monitoring her appears not to have noticed for ten minutes what this foolish individual was doing. In a busy class I can see it happening- I’ve had a pupil tip molten wax used in batik over the back of the hand of a peer because she was totally fucking inconsiderate and didn’t give a shit about the subject… There for the grace… etcetera…
There’s just over a month ’til I turn twenty-nine years of age; as is usual my thoughts have turned to what has happened over the course of the year and of course what I would like giftage-wise.
Re-reading last years pre-birthday wish list it seems that nothing much on it has changed, I mean I took myself and MW#1 to Hawksmoor but that doesn’t count as I paid (a lot!) for the large amount of pleasure I got.
I’m still shit-out-of-luck on “the sixty minutes of massage” “red-tipped black petticoat and polka dot circle skirt from Fairy Gothmother” “weekend away somewhere pretty with someone who cares for me” “bouquet of richly scented, non-red roses” and “a birthday kiss”. Yes, I went to Berlin with MW#1 but I paid my half and there is absolutely no way our time away could be classed as romantic; the massage I had on Leia Ewok Village’s birthday spa trip was again paid by myself and was only a half hour (though good).
Thinking back to my birthday outings last year – one with MW#1 in Lahndahn Tahn and one with Leia Ewok Village locally – it’s super clear which one I enjoyed more: The outing with Leia Ewok Village. So as I remember back I recall the disgraceful “Got your passport…?” comments from MW#1, the unwillingness to hold me and his detachment for the majority of the evening. *Such* great memories.
Then of course I remember taking him out for his birthday this year, how he wouldn’t hold my hand, would walk ahead of me and didn’t want to give me anything more than a peck kiss-wise. Total bullshit on the behaviour front but divine steaks. Is that enough compensation…? I think not.
So on “event” outings I seem to have less of an enjoyable time with the person I supposedly want in my life than I do with my friends. Surely they should be equal in enjoyment- different, yes but enjoyable nonetheless. But no, it seems not… What’s the betting that MW#1 doesn’t arrange a meet up until say November, which will be three months since we last saw each other…?
I critique away here but i’ll admit that when I was feeling sore and rather glum throughout Wednesday I wished I could curl up next to MW#1 and feel warm and fuzzy and safe in his arms. Sigh.
Anyway, i’m tired and need a shower as aside from a trip to Tesco i’ve spent the entire weekend in my pyjamas. I am nothing if not klassy.
Things I really should get off my arse and see:
21st Sept – 31st Jan 10 – Turner and the Masters
13th Oct – 10th Jan 10 – John Baldessari: Pure Beauty
1st Oct – 17th Jan 10 – Pop Life
6th Oct – 3rd Jan 10 – Turner Prize
21st Oct – 24th Jan 10 – The Sacred Made Real
24th Sept – 24th Jan 10 – Moctezuma
14th Oct – 10th Jan 10 – Ed Ruscha: Fifty Years of Painting
26th Sept – 11th Dec – Anish Kapoor
30th July – 18th Oct – Exquisite Bodies
These exhibitions are all supremely interesting and I should try and get back in the swing of exhibition-going as i’ve rather fallen off that wagon… Perhaps half term will provide some time to indulge…
Why am I texting people about food that I found particularly tasty? Why am I soberly texting people about food that I found particularly tasty?
It was good admittedly: Half a grapefruit sprinkled with brown sugar, splashed with rum and then grilled for a few minutes until the top bubbles. Simple yet awesome. MMMmmmm…
Could I not be drunkenly telling people that I love them? Or waxing lyrical about the soporific qualities of hugging? Noooo… I have to text people about food that excites me. Fortheloveofgod…
Today went well in that:
Within the space of four hours I had a fine needle aspiration of my lump, an ultrasound of both breasts, a mammogram of both breasts and a core biopsy of my lump along with an aspiration of an over-excitable lymph node under my arm. Everyone was nice and interestingly, female and I didn’t have to wait terribly long between appointments, passing the time happily collecting acorns in Animal Crossing (it’s the Acorn Festival this week).
It also went well in that the fine needle aspiration of the lump revealed nothing obviously nasty. Huzzah. However, the words “Ooh… I’m not quite sure what this is” are words you really don’t want to hear from the Doctor as she slides the ultrasound probe around your breast. So although it’s *far* from bad news further information is required and so I have to go back next week to collect the results of the biopsy.
Whatever it turns out to be I will probably have it taken out; it’s over three centimetres in size and so they recommend that anything over this size is removed for safety’s sake. As I am young hopefully the tissue in my breast will slide back into the space that’s left from the removal of the lump so I shouldn’t be left with too much deformity of the surface of the breast; again i’ll find out more about this next Wednesday.
I’ve a fair few holes in my breast and one in my armpit; i’m a bit tender but not overly so. I found the whole experience good- Care taken, appointments well-organised; of course all the technology was super exciting and interesting to me- Oooh- I can see inside me! Look, there’s the needle poking in! I be dork. There did however seem to be a fair amount of miscommunication between what the Doctor told me and what went in the report the Nurse Practitioner read back to me; things were kept rather vague when the Nurse was explaining to me what they’d found and what it all might mean. Not so good.
Anyway, it could be one of the following things:
A Fibroadenoma (the mouse)
General hormonal hardening of the tissues
A Phyllodes tumour
Due to my Mum’s history – oddly, she had problems with her right breast too – I was given the choice whether or not to move myself into the “Moderate Risk” category and so attend screenings every year; I opted to keep an eye on myself and bring forward the beginning of regular mammograms i.e. start from the age of 40.
The medical people are going to discuss me at their meeting next week – fun! – and then i’ll have some hopefully more solid information so I can make whatever decisions I need to. I’m tired and a bit sore and I need a shower; my poor breast is swollen and interestingly coloured so I have to sleep with a bit of support tonight so I don’t crush the poor wee thing.
I must take some photos, then shower then bed. YAWN…
Tomorrow I am off to the breast clinic, or more precisely Outpatients 1 for a poke about my parts; the letter informing me of my appointment only arrived yesterday so today I had to scramble to arrange school stuff and some time off. The letter says that although my appointment is first thing in the morning it may take until the afternoon; I am going to bring a book and the DS. Fun times.
My Dad is out of hospital and is apparently sore but well; my brother ended up having to fly over there so that he could bring back my Dad and the car – It’s going to be quite a drive for the guy- stuck in a confined space with a very grumpy Dad. Ugh. Good Luck to him.
I am officially out from under the radar and attempting poached eggs B3ta-style.
In the ad breaks for The Ultimate Fighter: Heavyweights they trail the UFC Undisputed game and from this I have been made aware that after what, thirty or so years of game evolution, we have now reached a point where the ring girls’ breasts gently bounce as they walk around the octagon. Clearly a pinnacle of simulation programming.
[image internet find]
TUF is rather interesting in that they have the fabulously named Kimbo Slice on one of the teams; he is more of a hard bastard and street fighter than mixed martial artist, so although he clearly means business, he was beaten by an awesomely slobby opponent with far more finesse on the skills side of things (Roy Nelson).
I haven’t watched any UFC for a long time so it’s nice to be able to take in the series. I was supposed to be reading and correcting several essays from my students but shopping, lounging and yes, McDonalds (comfort food) got in the way. Sunday brings lunch with a group of people who I have not seen in a very long time indeed; I am looking forward to it greatly.
My Dad came through his operation fine with many gallstones found when they took his gallbladder out. Ick. I’m still waiting on the clinic referral front and there are only a few days left of being invisible to radar. I wonder what comes next…?
Friday night and I am relaxing with my second glass of Viognier (recommended by the far too appealing wine specialist at Waitrose) and some surprisingly tasty spinach gnocchi with tomato sauce and mozzarella; the gnocchi are pleasingly malformed due their construction by my own cackhanded self. Score.
I had meant to eat a few hours earlier than I ended up doing but a Family Crisis intervened in my dining schedule: My Parents are en France at the moment and whilst there my Dad was taken to hospital after experiencing severe abdominal pain; it turns out that he has got an inflamed gallbladder and will be having surgery tomorrow morning to get it taken out.
My Mum is the fluent one when it comes to the language; it seems my Dad is comfortable and has been told he needs to lose weight – quelle suprise – and that he also has a heart condition. SIGH. Anyway, my Mum is going to stay with my Dad for a few days before coming back to the UK; the big problem is that their car is still over there and my Mum is not a confident driver, so getting it back in the country will probably involve either my Dad bringing it back once he’s recovered or my brother flying over there and then somehow making his way to the village where my Parent’s house is. Problematic.
My Mum sounds fine over the phone, more than anything she sounds a little exasperated over it all, given that it is another self-inflicted problem. Much as I have my differences with my Dad, I can’t help but contemplate his mortality. I hope all goes well tomorrow…
Super-creepy pictures of gallbladders filled with gallstones ahoy