Saturday, January 5, 2013

Bringing some serious

And at least 50% typos that I am going to have to go back and fix later.
So if you know me in my real life, you know that 50% of my waking existence is spent just keeping the cheese on my crackers. And most days I only succeed at 25% of that. I am a hot, hot mess. I try, I use skills from many, many hours of therapy. My doctor phobia has kept me from seeking new therapy. See, that is kind of a problems. And I am very much aware of it. I have been a total agoraphobe for a while now. It's not lazy, I fear outdoors will kill me.

And then, I was suddenly sick. I thought it was a tummy bug. As grim hour after grim hour passed, it became clear that it was not a tummy bug. Whatever was happening to me was kiiiiiiind of a big fucking deal. So I evaluated my choices at that point: See if the vomity burning hole in my guts would stop, or see if the vomity burning hole would really just explode and kill me. That sounded rather unpleasant to me. So Ermergency room it was going to be. With blatant honestly. I could not stop vomiting. Or panicking. Or panic vomiting.

In the spirit of coming out, I'm still in hopstal right now. I am in my room at Community Memorial in Memononee Falls. I am awaiting surgery hopefully today to set free my gall bladder that decided to take against my wee little pancreas like a fucking BITCH from hell. Jesus. That is some very painful stuff there. The most physically painful event in my life.

Now another thing you know about me, or maybe think you know, is that I no longer speak to my mother.  Let's just cover the basics. I love her. I have tried my damnedest to love her, to be enough for her. This is not up for argument from a peanut gallery. I gave it my all, and there was no more of me left to give. It might be cowardly, but this is my story and I am allowed to be a big pussy in my stories.

So now it's out there. For real. She still contacts me. I just refuse to respond in any way. She has said appallingly hurtful things to be. Just hair curling. I felt them and fell apart and carried on. That's not working for me any more.

So this time, when it was clear that Shit was Bad, I reached out to two aunties to tell them there I was and what was happening. One of them thought it was be a good idea to tell my mother. I did not disagree with that at all, because I was seriouly ill! This was the result. I did get a phone call from her husband and I was quite frankly under heavy pain control and after his using his "now you listen here!" tone of voice I just hung up. I do know that no one asked WHY or HOW I was so sick during the call. My docts can't get it either, I'm actually pretty healthy. I do not drink. I have never smoked. I have done no recreational drugs. I eat breakfast on a Sunday and injure my pancreas so badly that now I'm diabetic for life?

So: read on. And wish me luck. I don't pray, but if you do I am happy to take any good thoughts.





On Jan 1, 2013, at 6:27 PM, JREDACATED wrote:

> Julie ... You may be aware of this, but if not you should know that
> Annie is in the hospital for pancreatitis. Went in last night I
> think. Has a stone that they will remove along with her gallbladder.
> Don't know when that will be. Phone # to her room is REDACTED
> She is in a lot of pain, but sounds like they will be able to remedy
> that. ...J
From: "Julia Fenner" To: "JREDACTED
Sent: Wednesday, January 2, 2013 12:41:58 PM
Subject: Re: Annie in hospital

Of course I am not aware of it. How could I be? You and Annie have
made it very clear that she does not want me in her life. I grieve
every single day. I have not heard her voice for over five years. Now
I get a phone number for a hospital room? What is the name of the
hospital? What is her cell number? What is Jeff's number? Did she ask
you to contact me? Our internet has been down. I would like to hear
from Jeff. Do you have any idea how cruel you are to tell me this and
give me no other information?

First, I want the name of the hospital. I want you to send me her cell
number, Jeff's cell number, and a landline number if they have one. I
need her e-mail address, too. If you choose not to do the right thing,
please let me know if she survives. It is the least you can do.


ANNIE'S NOTE: for all of this blathering, no move was made by my mother to contact me, her actual child. An awful lot of every was involved in demanding every other people way to contact me, though. Frankly, there is no good time to deal with shit like this, so I figured I might as well deal with it now, while it is happening.