Another S.T. Update

I'm letting myself hope that he's going to make it. I wasn't so sure after work yesterday. I got home, dosed him, and tried to get him to eat or drink something, but he refused everything. So I gave him a clean nap area and went to bed. Woke up, dosed him, tried to get him to eat or drink, nothing. Woke up, fed the girls. He walked over to the food bowl and expressed an interest in the food, but didn't eat any of it.

Before work, I took him out, and offered him some applesauce baby food. He got a whiff of it and lunged for it like a ravenous cat, lapping frantically at it. (Side note: I can never be a mom. Seeing him down the applesauce like that made me start to tear up. It was so sad!) Ate for a minute before losing interest again. I try a Yogie, nothing. I try a piece of dried apple, and he takes it, but it is too chewy for him to get through. I ponder for a moment, then have an epiphany and offer him some apple juice. He drinks a cap-and-a-half-ful of it, then grooms a little bit.

It's the grooming that really got me. It's the first time I've seen him do it in days. He still looks as sick as can be. Porphyrin has coated his eyes and nose so much that his entire face looks bloody, and he's still taking shallow breaths, but he's not twitching anymore, and the clicking noise he was making when he breathed is nearly gone. He's also starting to struggle more when I dose him, which is a good sign, but also bad because it's more stressful for us both to get him his meds.

I think as long as we can keep convincing him to eat and drink that he'll be okay. I just want to see him eat something solid! D:

O RLY (aka I am already bored at work)

You Are A Romantic Realist

You tend to be grounded when it comes to romance. Sure, you can fall hard... but only for someone you've gotten to know. And once you're in love, you can be a total romantic goofball... But you'd never admit it to your friends!

Are You Romantic or Realistic?

Coherence is returning.

I've been meaning to share this little incident for a few days, but am only now coherent enough to post it. I've been off painkillers for 16 hours now. I'm fine, as long as I don't move. >>

Was at the specialist's on Monday. She decides she's going to schedule me for an endoscopy, and I express my glee (I think getting my throat/stomach scoped is really cool because I AM WEIRD.) She is slightly taken aback, and informs me that I will be asleep for the procedure. I ask if there is any way for me to remain awake so I can watch. She blinks, and says "well, they're going to run a scope down your throat..."

"I know," I reply.
"SHE DOESN'T HAVE A GAG REFLEX! I HAVE SEEN HER BRUSH HER THROAT WITH A TOOTHBRUSH." shrieks Maddo, from the other end of the room. I do the mature thing and *facepalm.*

The specialist pauses, then forges onward bravely. "Well, in that case...I'd ask the doctor performing the procedure?"

One and a half more hours.

The best part about working a grave shift is crawling into bed at the end of it. SUCH A GOOD FEELING.

better news

Maddo and I took S.T. to the vet this morning. He was looking a little perkier last night, and we managed to get him to drink some Ensure, so we decided that if he was willing to fight, we'd help out.

The vet listened to him and said his heart sounded good, but his lungs were quite crackly. We're supposed to give him antibiotics twice a day until he's had them all. In the meantime, we've bought a ton of Ensure and baby food and wet dog food and anything else we can think of to tempt him to eat.

So...there may still be hope. Wish him luck, everyone.

S.T. Strange is dying.

You know how sick people think you are when your ex, who has not been online since the breakup, frantically IMs you asking if you're okay.

The hospital just needs to admit me already.

One of these things is not like the other...

Me: "I've been in the ER three times in five days."
Comic House: NOOO D:
Professors: !!! D:
Maddo's Mother: I MAKE IT BETTER WITH MATERIAL GOODS D:
People I Barely Know: D:
My Doctors: o.O;; "What the shit is up with this girl's stomach?"


My Aunt and Uncle: "Are you sure it's not just a bladder infection?"

. . .yes.

Walking through rain on vicodin is the most amazing experience I've ever had

Okay, digestive tract? We need to talk.

I have done everything. I have given you painkillers, anti-nausea meds, anti-spasmodics, anti-acid reflux. I have stopped giving you food. I have continued eating normally. I have fed you only chicken soup and Jello. I am currently at home, bundled up on my bed, with a heated pillow mooshed up against my abdomen in a desperate attempt to get you to shut the fuck up.

But no. You keep hurting, you keep making me dry heave, you keep twitching, and you keep damaging yourself. No food makes you grumpy, regular food makes you nauseous, and bland food makes you dry heave. You don't even have any opinion of the warm pillow, which Maddo's parents bought me just. for. you, you ungrateful cluster of organs!

I am running out of vicodin. I have two pills to get me until 2:30 tomorrow, and I swear that if I am in as much pain as this tomorrow and they deny me painkillers, I WILL HURT SOMEONE.

Do you really want to be an accomplice to murder, intestines? Do you want to be interrogaed by the police and get 25-to-life, stomach? No?

THEN STOP FUCKING HURTING! D:

No love,
the girl who has mastered the art of fetal-position-beanbag-naps

This week, in brief:

1) Take exams I missed on Wednesday.
2) Study for Praxis Biology Subject test.
3) This weekend: catch up in classes.

At the E.R. last night

Me: "Well, I just had an IUD put in..."
Doctor: "Where?"
Me: "..."
Doctor: "Yes, I mean I know where, but where did you get it done?"
Me: "Oh, that makes more sense."

Laughter should not hurt.

The doctor lied. I definitely do not feel better, and I have been on the meds for three days now, dose-wise. If anything, I feel slightly worse.

*whimpers*

One day I will crush your puny Resistance once and for all!

I spent most of the day in a minor emergency clinic. I've been having stomach pain for the past week or so, and since it wasn't getting any better I decided I should probably get it looked at.

The doctor asks me a few questions, such as "have you been drinking well water recently, or have you been near any streams?" Maddo, as supportive as ever, instantly shrieks "Wren! Wren, parasite!"Granted, this outburst is largely my fault, since I left her with the glossary of my parasite book while I was doing paperwork and she quickly came face to face with the lovely little nematode that causes river blindness.

While Maddo continued to battle her newest medical demon ("Wren, how can you not FEEL it when they are in your eye!"), I was told to lie back and given an inspection by the doctor. She presses down on my lower stomach, and I go through the roof. Words cannot express the sensation accurately, and I do not think there is a sound in existance that expresses it outside a solo from the lead soprano in a production of American McGee's Aida. She continues to press different sections of my stomach, and each area leaves me orbiting a different planet in our lovely solar system as a satellite of agony. ("But Wren, how can you not feel them?!")

It is not a parasite. Allow me to assure you all. Instead of something within me feeding off of me and making me sick, something within me is feeding off ITSELF and making me sick. "Stress," my doctor explains, "can change the pH of your bile so drastically that it begins to damage the tissues of your digestive tract. Based on the pain, I would say everything from your lower esophagus to your large intestine has been affected." Cue me getting a vision of my innards melting. "Actually, they'd be bubbling!" Maddo interjects, and I feel a sharp stab of pain in my guts.

My treatment? Six weeks Prilosec and no caffeine. (YOU'VE CONDEMNED ME TO HELL.) The Prilosec is supposed to increase the pH of my stomach enough to "allow my tissues to heal, and I should feel much better in a couple of days." They went ahead and took some blood anyway, as well, because it is also possible for it to be a certain type of bacteria.

Oddly enough, I am less comfortable with the thought of a billion single-celled organisms eating me alive than my stomach doing it on its own. I have no idea what that says about me.

My classmates in Marine Interactions were really worried about me. Apparently the annoying kid is convinced he caused this. (Hopefully this means he plans on being less annoying in the future--might as well reap some benefits somewhere. >>)

People need to start taking me seriously.

It is done. For the past three days I have endeavored to make it, and it is complete! Behold, the Clifford Cowl! (Pay close attention to the clasp--that tag says "Clifford the Big Red Dog.")

The peanut gallery has had much to say on the subject.

1) No Understandy: I just made a cowl out of a Clifford hoodie
Mike: is a cowl really a viable fashion accessory
No Understandy: Yes.
Mike: gonna look a bit gothy with a cowl though :P
No Understandy: It's bright red and has DOG EARS
Mike: ...why
No Understandy: "I just made a cowl out of a Clifford hoodie."
Mike: when you said clifford i wasn't thinking big red dog
Mike: oh god this is AWFUL now
No Understandy: :D
Mike: did the panda hat not get you enough looks? :P
No Understandy: -.-
Mike: weirdo

2)No Understandy: http://www.the-nightwatch.com/pic/Rawr%20004.jpg
Pay careful attention to the tag. It's partially hidden by my collar.
Tim: oh my god it really is a cowl.
No Understandy: I wasn't lying...
Tim: I thought you were just being fancy with your choice of language.
Tim: but you weren't,
Tim: at all.
No Understandy: =/
No Understandy: I don't know what that means
Tim: IT IS AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT

*sinister laughter*

(click me)

This is a great day for Wrenkind

I just caused time to split today. I was in the science cafe, innocently studying for my Lab Exam, when I felt it happen.

There is a kid in Marine Interactions who likes my hair. It is all we have ever spoken about, and I have caught him staring at it during lecture when he is especially bored. Today he snuck up behind me while I was elbows deep in algal terminology, grabbed my shoulders, and vigorously ran his fingers over my hair in a sort of "d'awwww, hey there little buddy!" gesture. He has big hands. His damn hand engulfed my scalp and left my hair quite disheveled.

In that instant, I saw two things happen simultaneously. First, I saw myself grab him by the arm, pull him down over my shoulder, and slam my elbow into his kidneys before depositing him on the floor. At the same time, I saw myself calmly turn around and stare at him in mild confusion.

The Wren writing this did option two, but I swear that somewhere out there he was left in a battered heap on the cafe floor.

And tomorrow morning I take the first of my three graduate exams.

S.T. Strange and the girls moved in together tonight. The monstrosity into which they moved has affectionately been dubbed the Frankencage. Creating it gained me a blood blister, two scratches, and badly bruised palms, but it's ALIIIIIVE.


This is the top half of the girl's old cage, which was originally Neo's cage, wired onto S.T.'s old cage to create a multi-story monstrosity. It is, however, quite possibly one of the sturdiest wire constructions currently on the planet.


S.T. really likes this "level" idea. We were wondering if he'd fit up there, but he hasn't had a problem. We have a rather nimble old man, it would seem. (It probably has a lot to do with the existence of the girls.)


We wired a tupperware to the ceiling of the cage to make a Nap Nest(tm). The girls took to it immediately-- it's where they eat now. S.T. can't fit in there very well, so it's kind of like their personal clubhouse (it's okay, he has a huge fleece hammock.)


The girls are getting easier to tell apart now. Lilith has a cream-colored collar around her neck, while Jadis is still a uniform color. (Lily on bottom, Jae on top.)

And there you have it. If you'll excuse me, I am going to take a post-exam nap now.

Here is the quiz I wrote for this semester's ELEMENTS.

Please take me and give me feedback here. :D

This is your brain on *ded*

STARTLED PANDA. D:

I wore the panda hat to classes today.

No fewer than three professors asked me "so, is that a costume?" and then started backpedaling frantically when I pouted and said "no."

Later, when I was patrolling in it, people were very, very confused.

I am terrified of the future.