Anhedonia

For those who don't have an interest in words ending in '-nia', it means "lack of pleasure in anything".

My mum saw a doctor regarding her emotions once, she said she was fed up of everything and she no longer wanted to carry on doing anything - whether it be working, or household chores, or even speaking to her family or friends. The doctor labelled it depression, saying that's what was causing her to get anhedonia, she said "it's more a horror of the world than lack of pleasure".

Sometimes I think we all go through stages in our lives where we feel less connected to the things we enjoy (hobbies, our families, projects, etc). It doesn't mean we don't love those things any more, it just means that maybe you've had your fill of a good thing and need a break or some time for yourself.

Moral of the post: the black cloud always passes.

This week I was forced into having keyhole surgery. Ok, maybe not FORCED but definitely coerced.

It was horrendous. I hated every moment of it.

The nurse who was taking a blood sample from me couldn't find a vein, so she was stabbing my arm to death, and then when the needle was in and the blood was going into that test tube thing my blood pressure decided it was going to drop dramatically low.

Then I was prepared for surgery, wearing nothing but my underwear and a hospital gown - I was freezing and literally couldn't stop shivering. Then came the anaesthetic  and the doctor said it wouldn't put me to sleep but I wouldn't feel a thing. I did try explaining to the doctor that regular anaesthetic doesn't work on me but "you'll be fine, you won't feel a thing".

I felt pretty much everything. I felt the knife slicing through my stomach. I felt them poking around in my stomach - oddest sensation ever. I don't remember what happened after that as I tried to sit up but a nurse held me down and I was injected with something that made me unaware of what was going on. I do, however, remember being stitched up and feeling my body shudder when the nurse pulled the stringy thing; I hated that.

Then I was wheeled into a little dark room where I was left on the bed with no blanket for what felt like hours. I was freezing and I remember my toes hurting.

When a nurse finally arrived, she pulled out the needle in my arm and my blood just kept on pouring out, it just wouldn't stop no matter how many pressure bandages they put on it (they had to change them constantly because the blood kept seeping through). At that point they were worried that they had damaged my vein by stabbing it a good few times, so that was quite worrying... But thankfully by about seven-o-clock it stopped bleeding. A nurse came and washed my arm that was stained with blood, she wasn't exactly gentle either and probably made my arm even more sore.

And then a couple of my stitches re-opened so I had to endure being stitched up again, and then they finally bandaged me up and left me to rest (that was after forcing me to eat a chocolate bar to get my blood sugar higher and to drink a couple of cold drinks to stop me from getting dizzy due to blood loss - that hurt my stomach).

The whole experience was awful. I didn't like it. I don't ever want to do it again.

I was talking to my "stress nurse" yesterday and she taught me a little did-you-know fact.

Did you know, on average, the human body needs eight positive touches a day to survive? This includes hand shakes, a hand on the shoulder, a hug, a kiss, etc.

So, if you think about it, people that are depressed are just upset because they don’t get attention...because when your body lacks positive touches it can stunt your growth and effect your mental and emotional development.

*hugs to everyone out there*

Ladies, here's a fact for you.

I learned something new today:

On average menstruation starts at the age of twelve and ends at the age of fifty two.

Let's think about this for the minute.

Forty years of periods means... Four hundred and eighty periods, times that by an average length of five days...that’s two thousand four hundred days of bleeding, or six point fifty eight years of blood.

After telling me this, Suzie turned to me and said, "think of all the people you could drown in nearly seven years worth of blood..." The thought of drowning in thick, gloopy blood made me gag.

My day today:


Period: WAKE UP, ASSHOLE, YOU GOT CRAMPS.

Period: How bout an entire chocolate cake for breakfast?

Period: How's that back pain? Feeling better? Let's fix that.

Period: Find a cookie as big as a house and eat it.

Period: Where's your Tic Tac box filled with paracetamol?

Period: Got things to do? Don't care. Sleep.

Period: For dinner you're eating an entire 12 pack bag of crisps.

Period: Breeze blows by. Instantly horny.

Period: You didn't like those brand new pair of panties, right?

Period: Yell at a puppy.

The doctor thinks I purposefully threw myself down the stairs. I'm not even shocked he thinks that, since he thinks I'm suicidal. But I don't even care what he thinks any more... I have the painkillers for my cracked scapula and I have all my results back from my tests so I don't ever have to see him again. When the time comes for my physical on the 30th, i'll request a different doctor.

Today sucks. Everything sucks.

Ugh.

Going to play the Tequila Truth Game with Rick. I just hope my heart holds out, piece of shit* that it is.

*I DON'T REALLY MEAN THAT, HEART. I <3 YOU. YOU'VE BEEN WORKING QUITE WELL THESE PAST TWO MONTHS, DON'T FUCK UP ON ME NOW.

Currently at work, at my desk with a cup of tea and sore throat, checking up on personal things rather than number crunching the twenty ski-plans I have on my desk. I dislike numbers.

So anyway, I read this quote [see below] and I think it's beautiful (in a slightly morose kind of way).

"The push and pull of human interaction is never equal. When one person wants more than another is willing or able to give, hearts don’t break, they shred. A broken heart shatters into a million pieces and gets swept away never to be used again. A shredded heart continues to be used in all of its limited, tattered capacity; a remnant of its former usefulness and beauty."

Jack, you have a wonderful way with words.

Race For Life

Shaunna and I are doing the Race For Life together...
Running 10k through Clumber Park in June.
I've done it before.
Shaunna is going to die.
Fun fun fun.

My mother this morning saw the scar I have on my hip from when I jumped out of my bedroom window (long story) and asked if I self harm... Before I could even answer her she went on a rant and started checking my wrists. She really tests my patience sometimes.

Blah.

Last night was probably one of the worse night's out of my life. I guess I should have seen it coming... Feeling like a complete emotional wreck and drinking alcohol aren't exactly a match made in heaven. Shaunna and Paula were busy doing their thing as best friends and I was stuck looking after Nikki who was wasted on pills and alcohol - she ended up throwing up for forty five minutes. To top it off, for some reason or other, when Shaunna asked if I was ok, I burst out crying in the middle of the dance floor. That was pretty much the time Jase told me he was taking me home.

So much for blowing out...