broken links and weirdness

It’s been so long since I’ve blogged regularly; there are a ton of broken links here that I’ll be fixing. I was scanning through earlier and I saw that one of my ‘new sick chick’ rants had a link for viagra. hahaha! I don’t know if it was a link that changed or if some bot got into my account, but if you see any links for viagra or viagra level weirdness, know that it’s not me. lol



Re-blogging a blog that I re-blogged and then promptly lost…

I am laying low in my bedroom today, and after a good cry and a shitty nap, I opened my laptop to Pinterest. Someone pinned a blog post called How To Receive Better Care in the Emergency Room (with a chronic illness) and as I read it I saw that I had ‘reblogged’ this in June of this year. ?? I don’t see it here, and the site won’t let me re-re-blog it so I’m going to link it here. It’s definitely worth the read. As a new sick chick I saw my fair share of ER rooms. Everything was new ( to me ) and extremely terrifying. As you get more advanced in your years with chronic illness, you become more seasoned and the emergency room is a place of nightmares. Just kidding, not nightmares but a pretty big side order of judgement, disapproval, and suspicion. And that really stinks. No one, who has a legitimate life-long relationship with pain and the fear of premature death by disease, ever goes skipping into the ER sniffing around for meds. And because this is a practice of many drug addicts and recreational users alike, we get the fallout, we meaning the chronically ill. I will ride out the most terrifying of symptoms now, while thinking “ok, am I dying? or is this just another torturous event that I live through?” often times rolling the dice, instead of going in and being in severe pain somewhere other than my home, only to wait 8 hours and then be treated like shit. I’m almost going off on a tangent here.

Without further ado, here it is. [all of the above verbage is just my experiences and opinions. not from the post that I’m re-re-blogging.]


What to Do When You Have to Resort to the Emergency Room (When You Have a Chronic Illness)

A trip to the ER is no fun, no matter how you spin it. When you’re a chronic pain patient or someone with a chronic illness that can cause bouts of severe pain, it can be a complete and total nightmare.

A patient with chronic pain can help the Emergency Room staff to understand that their medical problems, especially pain, are a legitimate emergency by following a few guidelines and suggestions that will lessen some of the unpleasant drama of going to the ER.

Always bear in mind that the Emergency Room is a last resort, and Urgent Care will almost always turn away a patient with a chronic illness. Hospitals are so wrapped up in covering their asses legally that they have started turning away chronic pain patients much like Urgent Care does, even when the need for treatment is real and immediate.

Your regular healthcare team, especially your Primary Care Physician, is by far your best bet for getting help managing a chronic condition that is spiking out of control, but sometimes the ER is the only option. When that happens, here are some tips to help make your experience more manageable: READ MORE HERE



Thankful Thursday

It’s Thankful Thursday!! I say it like it’s nothing new, hahaha! But, it’s new for me. I’m not
big on New Year’s resolutions or declarations but this year I’m really feelin it. Living with intention keeps popping into my head and it feels good. :) Here we go

1. I’m thankful to be alive. Seems like a no-brainer but I truly am.
2. I’m thankful that I’m able to walk. I think sometimes I forget just how hard it was a few years ago.
3. I’m thankful for the internet. I said it. I’m taking new graphic design classes and finding out that I have a thimble full of creativity in me. I always thought I had none.
4. I’m thankful for my partner in this life. It’s been 15 years now and we still can be in the same room together and not drive each other crazy. I call this amazing.
5. I’m grateful for the roof over my head. We’re living in a place now that I never thought I’d live and it’s humbled me for sure.

There’s my first Thursday. I feel good about the upcoming year. It’s going to be a good one if I have to put it in a headlock and make it one.




Put yer eyebrows on foo!

Woman Wearing Holter To Monitor Heart ActivitySo today I got my holter monitor attached to me. Mine is either really technologically advanced or this is a really old photo of a woman wearing a holter. In my search for images I noticed that the top two electrodes in ALL the photos were placed up higher on the chest, just like in this photo. Mine are placed on the top parts of my boobs. What the heck?? And the unit itself is the size of a pager. Doesn’t that just date someone when they say ‘pager’? I recently flew next to an 18 year old kid who had never seen one. (hahaha, I schooled him on how life was back in the stone age) Anyway, had I looked these up yesterday I would have asked the tech who stuck them to me why the heck are they on my actual boobs. Now I feel like 2 days from now when I go to get it removed another tech will look and go “oohhhhh. Marcia put this on, right? tsk, tsk. We have to do it ALL OVER AGAIN.” Because that’s the kind of luck I have.

So rewind to 4:30 this morning, I got up, sat in our recliner and cried like a baby. Not because I had to get a 48 hour holter, it’s just I’ve hit my limit in the sick-kid game and when this happens, and it does, I crack and weep like a baby. Trust me, as hard as we try not to cry, letting out a good cry ALWAYS makes you feel better. Purged. Then I threw my ass in the shower and as I was getting ready, I was searching for my eyebrow makeup. Where could it freakin be??? And I thought about it, I only do my eyebrows if I’m going to the doctor. And that’s it. And it hit me, I only put my eye brows on when I have an appointment. Not because I’m trying to look good, but that’s the only time I leave the house anymore!! I used to be wearing a face at all times. I’ve been known to sleep in makeup (ewwww) for fear someone would see me with no makeup on. Is that crazy? Yes. But I’ve never said I wasn’t crazy. Fast forward to 2014 and I never have make up on. Like ever. I guess the line is eyebrows. I refuse to be seen without em. The crazy sick lady with the rockin eyebrows is out and about today people. Make a wide berth…

I was just having a really crappy, feel-sorry-for-myself day and it all changed when we stopped at the hospital to visit my niece. She just had a baby. Oh. My. Gosh. If you ever feel so low that you just can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, find a baby and hold them. 😀 She was the most beautiful baby, making all the right new-born baby faces to make a heart melt. Now I’m home, under a bunch of blankets (the mid-west big freezzzzzeee), rockin some awesome eyebrows and cuddling with the Bean…







Starting to write again. I think.

I have just done nothing with this blog for so long. I’ve thought about just shutting it down, or letting it float in the inter webs forever; my rants forever floating…hahaha. I’ve got the itch to write again. The excitement that builds up when you think about it, changing blog themes incessantly getting all pumped up to write something, anything!

That’s where I’m at right now. I know that I want to jump back into advocacy again: I’m SO tired of dermatomyositis getting no play out there in the land of awareness. Bratty foot stomping here. So, if I want things to change I need to try and change them. And here I am. ??


Here’s a link to a depressing article about DM and the onset of cancer with specific antibodies present and lots of very scientific-ey words. Bam!

and here’s a picture of a cute puppy. Just because. 

This cute doggy was found at The Meta Picture. Ok, I’m going to read for a while and crash. Big time Friday night over here!!




I support rare disease day




Rare disease day is here! This is the one day where I can celebrate my uniqueness. With a bunch of other uniquers. Haha! It’s nice to talk to people who have DM and get that ‘uh huh’ and ‘oh yah!’.

Even though the word rare means

  1. 1.
    (of an event, situation, or condition) not occurring very often.
    “a rare genetic disorder”
    synonyms: infrequentscarcesparse, few and far between, thin on the ground,like gold dust, as scarce as hen’s teeth;

    we still have a large amount of people with rare diseases. I think it’s like 30 million people in the US have a rare disease and there’s around 7, 000 rare diseases on the list. It makes it hard to get funding for research, hard for people to connect with others with their same condition. I read this somewhere (don’t quote me on this) but I think it said like 95% of rare diseases don’t have one FDA approved treatment for their disease.  That’s just nuts.

    I’m going to link a few places to check out, if you’d like to spread the word, read up, or meet some people like yourself. :)


    National Organization for Rare Disorders

    Rare Disease Day USA

    World Rare Disease Day, The Global Gene Project

    Offices of Rare Disease Research

    The Voice of Rare Disease Patients in Europe

    Eurordis Rare Diseases Youtube Channel

    I hope you all are having a great day. I’ll be back to blog soon.

    Until next time,

Finally Broken

We’ve been ‘moving’ all summer long and I keep saying “this is the home stretch” and “it’s down to the wire” and all these other ridiculous expressions and now it really is.

I’m sick, no surprise there, and just weak as a cat. Woke up this morning at 6 restless as hell, spent forever being sick and laid in bed switching blog themes here. Just wasting time. This one doesn’t even work properly but I’m past the point of caring today.

Our house is mostly empty and 90 percent of our belongings have already shipped east and are probably being stored as I type. I wish I could’ve had someone come in and just pack everything for me, but as my illness really took hold a couple of years ago, so my stellar organizational skills flew out the window. Haha, sarcasm there. I like to blame Big C for our piles of paperwork but if I was totally honest I’d say it’s half mine. I got sick, I became immobile, and I let it pile up. I couldn’t have movers touch all of my memories and now I wished I would’ve just shelled out the dough and said fuck it. Pack it all.

When C woke up I whined at him about how sick I was and how out of control our moving situation was and he didn’t even have any coffee in him yet. I’m selfish. I’m spoiled. I’m awful. Today is a day for berating myself for all of my short-comings. I had to stop working in our room to go out back and cry.

It’s tense here. We seem to be gouging at old wounds and I keep wondering why. Why are we such a fucking mess? Why can’t we just pack the last fucking box and drive away? I don’t know. But I do know that the house is almost completely empty and once it is then we are on the road whether we like it or not. This is a move that we want. It’s not like someone has us at gun point and are making us go…

I had to stop boxing up the stuff under our bed and cry some more. I found evidence of people’s love for me and cried some more. Letters that friends have written and stamped and mailed out to me. In this age of being keystrokes away from saying ‘hey’ I have friends that made the effort. And I’m sure I never wrote them back. Sure of it. I can jump online and tell people that I love them easily enough, and do, but I haven’t put pen to paper in years. Seeing these letters made me happy and sad at the same time. I gathered these letters and put them in my blue bag to take in the rig. I’m not sure if I separated them out to remind me I’m loved or to remind me what a shitty friend I am. Then I found a pile of cards. There was this big pink glittery card, a huge one and I already knew who it would be from. I opened it up and it broke me. Just broke me to pieces. It was from my dad. He always got me these huge cards. On the right side was what the card company wrote about me being such a good daughter and on the left he wrote ‘everything on the right side of the card is true! You’re the best daughter in the world. Love, Dad’ and that’s it. I miss him so much it physically hurts. I wish he was here so I could tell him I love him one more time and to hug him and smell the old spice.

I’m trying to make myself go into the room and finish boxing up all of my old memories. Came in and went downstairs and out front I could see this guy digging through my clothes in the box on the grass. It was so weird in that he’s in his 20’s with no mustache but an amish-like beard and he’s holding up my old size one pants and thinking. And I’m thinking ‘please don’t notice me sneaking over to the door to close it’. Such a weird day. I’m only rambling now. I’m so sad.