I died, a few times, came back, went pervy, went hormonal.

After I wrote about determined to live yet dying, then yesterday announcing I may not quite be dying this month is asking for trouble (as was pointed out to me). Because, Irony leaving no chance behind, woke me this morning by STOPPING my heart. I was having a great dream, where I was a resistance fighter during the Regency Period and sneaking around and turning cannons so they blasted the government instead of the resistance fighters when suddenly I was underwater, and I couldn’t reach the surface. My chest had that implosion/explosion feeling as my lungs were probably knocking against the ribs a little.

Thankfully, Cheryl, my new sibling with mad EMT skills was listening to me breath (or not) on a baby monitor and was already by my side by the time the black little dots receded. My heart continued to stop (not for quite as long) for the 30 minutes while the heart medicine kicked in, beats for 20-30 seconds, then stops for six seconds or more. Fun, if having yourself inverted through a bendy straw through the power and pain of a black hole vortex is what you call “fun”.

My only complain would be, like this picture, once I am up, aren’t you supposed to be IN FRONT of me when you do those heart compressions Cheryl.

She says she “can feel better from here.” Um, well, she’s the professional!

I did not make it out of the house though I did shower and dry hair and got ready and then ran out of steam and had what is known in male circles as “What the hell is going on with my high maintenance girl-friend?” Which means I am on that day before period in which in bitter twist of fate which never ceases after 15 years to frustrate me, Linda gets chocolate gooey donuts and I get mood swings with very, very deep lows. Seems a wee bit unfair, you know, she buys the Cinnamon roll with EXTRA icing as her run up, other women are masturbating like crazy (cause some women it makes horny) and I am crying for 90 minutes today after I was on a high and bought stuff online. Why cry for 90 minutes? because I am a “Bad Person” and when Cheryl tried to comfort me by rubbing my hand, the “good of Cheryl needed to be excised on from the evil of me” so I literally tried to SKIN most of the back of my hand, and half succeeded (would have if she hadn’t taken the scissors away). Yeah, this is the "high maintenance" aspect.

See, this is where guys head for the door. Cause when the hormones are a flying, you don’t want to be around. So I didn’t get a lot accomplished today plus between heart problems and oxygen problems I think I might have set a new record for the number of seizures in a five hour period (I mean MY new personal best – but since I can’t remember the number, it was six or above, it is hard to mark it on my chart!) So you might say today was a day in the brambles. Which is what happens with chronic illness. You get up thinking that today you are going to do all sorts of things (or in my case, “Thank GOD! I can breath again!”) and somehow the day sort of slips away. Plus I was blind for an hour or so. Which diminishes my efficiency a bit. It also makes using Dragonspeak problematic as I don’t know when to say “Scratch that” to have it erase things.

Also the postman, in some sort of cruelty, dropped off two notices of packages, except there were no packages, he CLAIMED he tried to deliver them (except both of us were here all day!). So boo to him, because I like packages (well the ones with stuff in them, not the ones from the Government you sign for which say, “There we proved you know you owe $400 in ambulance charges so now pay up!”). So I have to wait until tomorrow or beyond to get my packages!

Thank you for all the comments the last few days and I very sorry that I am SO slow in responding, I am trying as fast as I can, which is sort of an intro to the little engine that could I suppose. Anyway, I will huff and puff my way to the end of all the comments as I am able because I am very grateful for every comment. Well almost all except the ones that don’t get published as they say, “We like you dead, too bad that didn’t happen” and fun things like that (or were those just the phone messages left by Beacon, or VIHA probably?)

Also because Cheryl is around all day, we have been distracted into Anime world a few times to get all pervy, I mean look at the anime gal pictures and play, “Which one am I?” See like in this picture. On the one hand, many days, when I feel good, I am the girl in black who while having an unusual dress sense which seems to say “Look at my navel and Panties!” she does have a sword, a cool gothic coat and a kick ass attitude. However, there are other days, like today, when I have to be put to bed, literally, as in, helpless, which gives me an aura of innocence (a tired and electrically fried mind does tend to have less lechery about it) so then I am the girl with the white headband with the feathers. Plus I actually do have what Linda and Cheryl call a naïve side, in that I keep believing the good (so Linda would say that there is a large aspect of the girl with the feathers in me).

Who was Cheryl? She’s the person who designed the top for the girl with the white headband (much support, I don't think so!) and the tailor for the girl in black! No, I suspect she would be the girl in black, out there doing Park Ranger duties and giving hell to those ‘good ole boys’ who dare throw their empty beer bottles into the pristine of nature in a FEDERAL PARK! I can see her boss saying, much like they do to the Mossad female agent David in NCIS, “There is a killing offence Cheryl, and a non-killing offence, and littering isn’t killing here.”

Cheryl: “It is in MY park.”

Anyway, with that thought, I am off to do postcards and try an early night in hopes that I will have my heart beat through the night, the WHOLE night tonight. So I leave you with this view, which is actually where I was this afternoon, except Cheryl kept BRINGING me back, the whole, “You have to breath!” thing. Actually I don’t! She said she didn’t want to explain to Linda I died while she was taking care of me. So this picture is either that – my little bit of heaven, or what Cheryl’s Park will look like (you notice there isn’t any litter!).

Tomorrow I will be deep and profound, right now I am hormonal, in pain, a wee high on pain meds and ‘getting by’ – chronic condition people know that one, I hope, or is it just me?