THE TRUTH IS MESSIE…

My e-journal, all the nitty-gritty, overly-emotional, sappy stuff…

“Twenty-Nine White Lies” July 5, 2017

Soooo it was my birthday last week. And—according to everyone BUT me—it was a pretty big one. (Context Note: I haatttee birthdays, so I’ve decided this will be my last. No more birthdays!) It’s supposed to be this big deal–it being the big “three-oh” — or as I like to call it “twenty-nine plus one”. Not to exaggerate or sound flippant, it truly, TRULY surprises the hell out of me that I’ve actually made it this far, to thirty. Hell, with everything I’ve done, what I’ve seen, and what I’ve gone through … it’s a real wonder that I’m still here, alive and breathing.  


If you were to ask me seven or eight years ago, I imagine I probably would have said that would take nothing short of a miracle. But I was so wrecked then, and hurt. Still reeling. Still fighting my way to the surface, bogged down my emotional and physical scars, trust issues, and insecurities that were still new and raw. It was all at-once and just so overwhelming. Before that, I never really factored in or gave much credence to age–and mine in particular. It really was just a number. And thirty–well, thirty seemed far off…I thought I had time. Until I didn’t. I think that, for the most part, I hadn’t really seen myself as being a grown-up or an adult, at least not before then. I was still in that naïve, trusting, utterly oblivious, left-over-from-teenager-dom state. I hadn’t really lived yet, you know? I wasn’t innocent–I’d experimented a little and crossed a few boundaries–but it was mostly just minor things, mixed in with some select, world shattering, major moments. Some of it was fear…some of it was hesitation. In the end, I think I was just waiting for some AH-HA- moment to strike where I’d finally start to feel my age and realize that I was, in fact, an adult. It’s ironic how I spent so much of my childhood and adolescence waiting–albeit impatiently—wanting nothing more than to grow up. For the day to come where it would all just fall into place and I’d finally get the chance to flip that adult switch. The day when I would stop being seen as a kid and finally be seen as an equal among my peers and to the rest of the world. All those years–all that time I spent looking forward, oblivious to what was happening in the “now”– unable to see or appreciate all that time and what I’d had; what was right there in front of me, the whole time. Like most teenagers, I had a narrow perspective and distorted view of what I expected and how I thought it would be. I romanticized it all–maybe a little too much–imagining and comparing adulthood and independence to some exciting adventure. I never could have predicted–nor did I–just how far that adventure would go ultimately.


Oh, how I had big dreams back then. To find success. To travel the world. To  see for myself that there really was a whole bigger world out there, beyond the small town that I’d called home my entire life. I was so independent and curious and more than anything, determined to feel and experience everything. Just thinking about it was like a high just by itself–without the drugs and other fun goodies. But as with all highs, you have to crash at some point. Hindsight is 20/20. I wish that I had held on to those years and that innocence I’d managed to somehow keep hold of–in spite of some pretty messed up shit. If I had it to do all over again, I’d do it…exactly the same. Pain is visceral; heartache even more so. And no matter how much you want and try to avoid it, it’s inevitable. Pain exists for a reason…it’s a reminder of what’s real; that we ourselves are real. No one tells or prepares you for it, for what’s out there. They don’t tell you that adulthood is hard and complicated and well, that it’s messy. There are no warning, they just throw you to the wolves and watch the slaughter. You’re alone in the world. With your regrets and your worries and those brutal, hellish lessons waiting to be learned, and all while the universe slowly chips away at your soul until there’s barely any of it left. I went looking for adventure, but fell head-first into one disaster after another. The world is big and mean and scary as hell. It doesn’t have to be, but it is. 


I hate that last little push into adulthood—always will. Though it completely sucked at the time—obviously—I can see now that it was a necessary evil. For so long I’d been walking around in this daze, running on good nights and good times with good friends, and sunshine, with this whole you-only-live-once persona (before YOLO was even a thing) and not really learning or growing as a person. If that makes sense. I needed the reality check…or that “swift-kick-in-the-ass” as my Grams would say.


When I think back to my mindset then and how I was essentially in this slow-moving stasis—it seems and feels as if an entire lifetime has passed between then and now. Like I’m a completely different person. I guess, in some ways, I kind of am. I don’t know if that’s a good thing…but I’d like to think that it is. Being young is so easy. You could literally hold time on the tips of your fingertips—or so it seemed. Everything was expendable. School, popularity, friends…the whole shebang. Of course, there were a few edgy, brief moments that made me question my invincibility. Like getting chased by a gun-toting-wannabe-gangster in a rough part of town because your friend decided to deal with her grandfather’s recent passing by getting numb-drunk. And such as it usually was when the Bestie got a tad bit too drunk…things escalated from there. She chose to respond to a somewhat insensitive comment by smashing a beer bottle over the back of said wannabe-ganger’s head. Or like leaving a party at 3am and you happen to stop for a street light next to a car with 4 leering guys and your idiot, drunk friend decides to roll down her window, shamelessly flirt for a full 20 or 30 seconds, and idiotically challenge them to follow us back to where we were going—and despite that challenge being drunk-silly and insincere, they ACTUALLY do it and follow your car 35 minutes (with several failed attempts to lose them), only to be met by several of your macho male friends who promptly crushed their expectations of a hookup of any kind, and subsequently threatened by the sudden appearance of a gun when ordered to leave. See? It really is a miracle that my friends and I made it this far, considering how reckless and ridiculous we were


People keep asking me what I want for my birthday. They, of course, laugh when I answer with “the last ten years of my life back”. They think I’m just being funny when in-fact, I’m dead serious.


Thirty—it just doesn’t seem possible. It feels like it was just yesterday when my friends and I were teens sitting in the quad, talking and joking about how thirty was so far off…how we’d be settled and have everything figured out by then. But here I am, not exactly settled…and nothing figured out.


BUT I’VE GOT TIME.


Sooo, I guess it’s a Happy (LAST) Birthday To ME.   


xo MESSIE xo

 PS. Found an old photo album earlier… This little gem was in it. (I apparently didn’t like to wear clothes…lol)

Oh, to be FIVE and FUN and FOREVER YOUNG again… 

Me & My Sissy. ❤ ( age 4/5ish )

 

 

To Protect & Serve… June 18, 2017

America. The land of the free. Or so they say…

Trust the system, they say. Trust that justice will prevail. But it didn’t yesterday. Hell, that seems to be the case with most things these days. Philando Castile was an American citizen. He was 32 years old and worked a menial job as a nutrition services supervisor for one of Saint Paul’s public schools—a job, I might add, that he’d held down since shortly after he graduated high school. He wasn’t some gangbanger or deadbeat (though it wouldn’t matter if he had been). He was an innocent, up-standing citizen, from all accounts, and aside from numerous traffic infractions, his record was clean. Like so many persons of color and/or minority, he was singled out because of his ethnicity and color of his skin. You can’t tell me any different. Circumstantial and/or lack of evidence aside, he was murdered. A man in blue and with a badge killed him in cold blood…and thanks to Facebook Live, it’s out there forever—imprinted in the minds for those that had or have seen it. It’s sickening.

Like Michael Brown, Alton Sterling, and the dozens of other victims at the hands of the police, he did nothing wrong. He informed the officer of his permit to carry a concealed weapon from the start, just as he was required to do. He did everything he was supposed to do…and yet, he was still murdered. Live. In front of and watched by hundreds of thousands of viewers.

His killer was just acquitted and is walking around free, among us all. Mr. Castile wasn’t given that luxury…because he’s dead. And for what? Because his skin happened to be dark and not white? Because he supposedly fit the description of a burglary suspect with a “wide nose”? Because some officer jumped the gun and pulled the trigger without affording him the benefit of the doubt that is often automatically afforded to individuals that are white?

The system dropped the ball on this. The fact that he shot Mr. Castile on a live-stream—how much more proof do you need?!—makes it that much more fucked up that they acquitted him. Innocent on all counts…but that’s not exactly true, as we all know far too well. He isn’t innocent. He discharged his entire service weapon into the vehicle, seven bullets to be exact, at Mr. Castile from outside the vehicle—while Mr. Castile was still wearing his seat belt and gave no impression or intent of violence. No threats were spewed. No sudden moves were made. But the officer claimed (and still claims) he was in fear for his life? Yeah, no–that’s total bullshit. Even if that were the case, did he honestly need to shoot the guy seven times? Wouldn’t one bullet have sufficed? What’s even more fucked up is that the officer fired into that vehicle seven times with a passenger and a 4-year-old child in the backseat. Who the hell does that? Murder/manslaughter aside, he should still have been charged with and convicted for using excessive force, and endangering the welfare of a child, at the very least. Hell, a man is dead, but his murderer gets off scot-free. What kind of twisted shit is that? It’s not justice, that’s for damn sure. Had it been an ordinary civilian that shot him, he/she would have been charged and likely convicted for manslaughter ASAP. It wouldn’t even be a question or thought. But because that officer has a badge and chose to shoot first, ask questions later…a man is dead. And now, despite those very reasons, he gets to walk away without reprisal or consequence. How is that fair? To answer in simple terms, it’s NOT.

Something—the system, the courts—needs to change. Someone needs to do something. This hostility can’t last indefinitely…this war between the police and civilians must end. We need better laws that protect the victims, and not the perpetrators. This shit with these gun-happy, (often) racially-motivated cops getting away with their crimes has got to stop. And if they don’t do something soon, I predict that all hell is going to break loose. People are rioting and marching in the streets because they’re sick of it all. They don’t trust the police, but then, why would they—especially what with everything that’s happened recently. There’s so much anger brewing between both sides and eventually it must combust. And no one wants to be there for that. I sure as hell don’t.

What pisses me off about all this news and these cases is that it’s only adding the proverbial gasoline to the proverbial fire, making things worse. The marches, the riots…people are demanding action-demanding change. The Black Lives Matter movement is stretched thin and people are on the edge. The movement has strayed so far from its original intent that it’s barely even recognizable. Granted, I think some of it is exaggerated. If there’s a black person(s) involved—in any way—innocent or guilty—it breeds hostility and becomes a case for racism. And that’s not fair. Yes, sometimes it is racially-motivated. But what many fail to realize it’s that that’s not always the case. Sometimes it has nothing at all to do with race, but people make it out to be. I hate that…how quick people are to assume. Most people are good. Most don’t have a racist bone in their body. And still, people like to jump to conclusions based on history from decades before—experiences and injustices that they, themselves, have never even encountered, most of the time. You can’t play the victim card when you’re not really a victim. It’s hard to see through the bitter fog of misery some times, that much I do know.

I’m not even going to get started on the Bill Cosby disaster, but I will say that it’s a bun. The man admitted under oath that he’d drugged and assaulted several women, and now whole onslaught of victims are coming forward claiming the same, and yet…the guy gets to walk. I don’t care if he is a TV icon for persons of color…he’s a rapist. They should lock him up and throw away the key. Let’s wait and see if the prosecutors have the nerve to try him again. Hopefully they will so.

We live in a sad, sad world. Such a shame. All that I can say (ask) is #WhereIsTheLove. Seriously. Where. Is. The. LOVE.

Xo,

Messie

 

Year Seven. May 21, 2017

My heart, it still beats. But this pain is forever, and always bittersweet.

Seven years.

xo M.

 

Did I Mention That I Hate Needles? February 23, 2017

Filed under: art,graphic design,health — MESSIE @ 1:30 am
Tags: , ,

Had my 2nd and 3rd nerve blocks done the other day. Not a pleasant experience, I will say. Hell, I think it hurt worse than it did with my first one, and he actually gave the lidocaine time to do its job this time, instead of doing them one right after another. To hell with that lidocaine crap  It didn’t help much. I still felt those damn needles going in, each time–spot 1 being above my eye, and spot 2 being my cheek. I swear he must have done each one, in and out, like 3 or 4 times. And then, as if that’s not bad enough, he went in with this special radio-frequency needle to get an ultrasound picture of the nerves the blocks were targeting. Why he needed a needle to do that, is anyone’s guess. I’m pretty sure these doctors are sadists. No joke.


My face get the other mommy

Messin’ up my face.. 😦 sad face + miserable face


As grateful as I’d be if these help–even a little–I’m not holding my breath. He’d already told me that, given the type of headaches I have, that the blocks probably wouldn’t do much, if anything, to help. But they’d already been approved by my insurance, so he said it wouldn’t hurt to just try it and hope for a damn miracle. If there are any.


Next up is Botox. Or should I say tentatively next. I still haven’t decided on those just yet. There are too many horror stories with that Botox crap…and I’d rather not be one of them.

That just leaves the implant. It’s a little more invasive that I’d hoped it would be, but it’s gotten really great, successful results. I’ve been thinking it over and I think I’ve come to a decision. I’m going to talk to my doctor again and see if there really aren’t any more options we could try. If not, then I guess I have to just suck it up and go through with it. If it does work–even just by a little–then it’s worth it. To be able to stop the really bad headaches with the push of a button is pretty amazing.

And tempting. I swear, I feel like I’m in that teacup ride that it just won’t stop spinning.


I just want to know “why me”?

And how the hell do I get off this ride.

xoMESSIE**

 

 

It’s Not The Race, It’s The Finish Line. February 1, 2017

So I switched things up a bit with school. Now that I have the twins every day, I had to re-think my schedule. The final couple of courses I needed to finish up would have forced me to extend things a bit…and I really didn’t want that, especially seeing that come the end of May, I’m going to be saying so long to New York and heading home to Tennessee. J YAY!! And so, anyways, I did some thinking and looked over a few things and decided to switch my major to a more general liberal arts degree, with a focus in humanities. It worked out since I already have the majority of the credits I need for the degree anyhow. So I’m finishing up the remaining few credits and will be completely done come graduation in May. And even better, I’m doing all the work online, so it doesn’t interfere with me watching the boys for my sister. It’s already one week in and I’m not going to lie—what with my consulting work, school, AND playing nanny to two VERY energetic (but loveable as all get out) 3-year-old little boys 5 days out of the week—it’s absolutely insane…but it’ll be worth it. Just a few more months and I’ll have what I want. A big part of that is that I’ll FINALLY have this degree out of the way. I never imagined when I went back to finish up that there’d be all these hiccups along the way…but such is life. And now, the hard part is over.


It’s not about the degree. I don’t need it to do what I do. But having it feels nice. I know that when I decided to back and finish up, it was more for my family than for myself. I know I really let them down when I first decided to walk away from the Ivy League path they’d envisioned for me. I don’t think they would have been nearly as disappointed if I’d told them the truth about why I left. If I’d told them that I’d gotten messed up with the wrong guy and caught in a really unhealthy, dangerous situation—they’d have been completely supportive. Well…I think they’d have gone off the rails a bit first and did something crazy like send my brother out to rough a certain someone up a bit, or have my sister call up the Dean and demand that the situation be rectified. Well, technically, my sister did end up doing something along those lines. She called up the school and actually requested a meeting with the Dean of Students himself. When I found out, I was of course, livid and literally had to beg her to stay out of it. My thought process at the time was that I felt like I’d been humiliated enough. I didn’t need or want my big sister or any member of my family to come swooping in and trying to fix the mess I’d made like they always did. After almost a year and a half of covering up bruises, making countless excuses, and constantly feeling as if I was walking on eggshells, I felt completely hopeless. Honestly, I think I just a reached the point to where nothing mattered anymore. I was tired of the pain—both physical and emotional—and of feeling like nothing I did or said was ever going to make it better. It’s not so much that I wanted to die as it was that I no longer cared if I did or didn’t. I think a part of me would have taken death as a relief. Sad and pathetic, I know.


In hindsight, I now realize just how ridiculously messed up that whole situation was. I was stupid to stay; stupid to believe him when he apologized and swore it’d never happen again…until the next time when it did. I was even more stupid for letting him run me out of school, for making me feel like I had no other choice but to go. For making me feel like it was somehow my fault, so I had to be the one to leave. I hate that I gave him that much power over me, but what’s done is done. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is right now and finishing what I started. At some point over the last few years, it stopped being about proving something to my family and instead became more about proving something to myself. I wanted to prove that I could do it…that I could finish. That I could do more and be more. I know that I can do this. And I’m going to. For ME and for the people in my life. Right now, I’m just focusing on the prize waiting for me at the end of all this: I get to go home. Back to my friends and the people that already feel like family to me. Back to long hikes in state parks, just me and my Canon. Back to the peace and quiet. Back to the city life. Back to where I belong. Back home.  ❤ 🙂

xoMESSIE

 

#NOTMyPresident January 29, 2017

( Fair Warning – I apologize in advance for the language but well…with the mood I’m min, it can’t be helped… Sorry… )


All I can say is that it must be pretty damn icy down there in hell right. I never thought the day would come that I’d literally be ashamed to call myself an American and to live in this great country. And a certain orange Nazi can keep talking out of his ass until it turns blue about how apparently NOT great this country is, but at the end of the day, his talk is just as cheap as his morality. And completely baseless, for that matter. He’s wrong. WRONG. America is already great. Granted, it’s not perfect and there’s a ton of fucked up shit that’s happened and will–undoubtedly—continue to happen every day until the end of time…but it doesn’t diminish this country’s greatness. Not entirely, anyhow.


At least, that’s what I thought…until today. Now, my thoughts and beliefs and emotions in that statement are a hot fucking mess. I’m ashamed. I’m embarrassed. I’m in disbelief. I’m angry. I’m scared. I’m sad. My emotions are all kinds of fucked up. But on the bright side, I know for certain that I’m not the only one. It’s comforting…and yet really simultaneously terrifying.


Honestly, I don’t know how we got here…how it’s come this far. Not to sound bitter or anything (although I am) but I still can’t believe that Hillary lost back in November. I really can’t. I really thought she had this election and forthright presidency in the bag. I can’t believe that America actually put Donald Trump in the oval—to run a country and subsequently hold the fates of millions of people in his hands. This man is a joke and a disgrace to not just the office of the President, but to America itself, as a whole. Trump didn’t win this election on merit or luck or capability … he won it on FEAR and HATE. And that is an irrefutable fact. Not an “alternative fact” but an actual, documented FACT. Oh no—just used that scary word. God forbid. Oh and while we’re on the subject—a big fuck you Kelly Ann Conway. Seriously. Thanks BITCH – for being a part of the problem and NOT the solution. Really, thanks.


I was shocked then, that night back in November…and I’m still shocked, to tell you the truth. America really dropped the ball on this one this time. I’ve been seeing and reading these posts by people, telling anti-Trump supporters to “get over it already”, “to accept it”, and that “he’s still YOUR/MY President whether you like/want it or not”. Oh, and also the ones that takes it step further by mocking or disparaging those who before, had no real political interest, but now – according to and conveniently, they say — do. That really hits home for me. And as such, makes me peeved as hell. It’s true, I’ve never been very fond of politics and I’ve stayed away from involving myself, let alone actually advocating for it. But this time is different. You can ask any one, this wasn’t your typical election. From the very beginning, it’s been an absolute shit show. Trump and Cruz walking around with their chests puffed out and actually thinking they’re the solution the country desperately needs…Bernie with his civil rights’ protesting and straight-shooter plans and ideas…Hillary and those emails. Those fucking emails. Did she fuck up and make a mistake? Yes. Did that mistake contribute to the tragic deaths of good men and true Patriots? Sadly, yes. Did she lie? Yes. She did those things. But she also confessed and took ownership of those mistakes. Could her sincerity have been forged and/or did it take force in the form of a subpoena for her to admit those mistakes? Yes, to both. Should those mistakes destroy her career, her dreams, or her ambitions? I don’t think so. People seem to forget that she was cleared of any criminal wrong-doing. What she did might have been unethical and just a tad bit politically/morally-corrupt, but it wasn’t illegal. And it doesn’t and shouldn’t define her or who she is. That shouldn’t be her legacy. For Chrissakes, she lied, people! She just lied. People do that from time to time…not that that is an excuse…but it’s what people do. We’re flawed. We make mistakes. But come on people, she’s also a politician…and we all know what that means. Politicians lie. It’s ingrained in them, I think. So to hold something of such little importance or effect on the country on as a whole as that over her head…it’s messed up. Not to mention, completely unfair. But we have douchebag Trump and his merry band of identical douchebags who did just that. To hell with what it could/would have meant to and done for Women’s Rights and the Women’s Movement, just in general. She could have shattered the highest glass ceiling…and by doing so, could have set an example for all little girls and women, proving that all things and dreams are possible if you want it bad enough and work hard enough for it. She could have made history, changed it, and done incredible things for this country. I believed in her. Hell, I still believe in her.


Thanks to Trump and his little cronies, those are realities that sadly, will never be. A few emails are all it took to persuade the country to jump ship and take Trump’s side. To ignore the serious faults of a man who has proven repeatedly to be nothing more than an egotistical, impulsive, childish, ignorant, petty, hate-filled, pathetic resemblance of a man, hell even just a goddamn human being. A few emails have placated the clueless, resentful, and ultimately vindictive beings of this society. The result of this election only goes to show how naïve and illogical and just plain fucking blind people are. I find it absolutely incredible that anyone could possibly feel justified in thinking that a few emails and lies are more damaging and less conducive or more destructive to the survival of this republic and country than a man who openly defies the very constitution that he was sworn to uphold, thinks who he is and has taken it upon himself to declare authoritative, arbitrary, and sole power over the rights actions, beliefs, religions, and creeds of others—in direct opposition of everything this country stands for and believes in. He’s ignored and destroyed us to our human core and foundation. He’s a power-hungry tyrant in a fragile republic and political system, out for his own well-being and no one else’s—and certainly not the American people he promised to represent and protect.


Those that want to post and judge a person’s political agenda or “prowess” can quite literally kiss my ass. They don’t get that this election was unlike any other we’ve had. It’s not that I don’t care about politics or that I’m being picky or overly selective. I’ve simply chosen to stand up for and advocate for a country that needs and deserves a President worthy and capable of the power exposed to and responsibility placed in his/her hands. Maybe ideally, that wasn’t Hillary. Who knows. It sure as hell wasn’t and ISN’T Trump though. That man is morally-bankrupt and fill of nothing but hate. He has no compassion for the plight and suffering of others. He’s made a fortune literally on the backs and in the wallets of hard-working men and women. He’s put himself in an advantageous position against the women he associates and interacts with. He sexualizes women –his own daughter and wife included– and feels no shame in making unwanted moves against ANY woman he deigns to lust after. That jackass he calls a VP wants to take control and make decisions for women and their bodies by defunding programs that benefit women and their health. That fucking Pence. I can’t stand him. Him or all his little pro-life buddies who think it’s a mortal/prosecutable sin to terminate a pregnancy DESPITE not knowing the special circumstances or reasons or situations involved in the decision. I love how it’s the woman that is being judged and threatened and ordered to do or not do something to her body that will 100 percent effect the quality of life and plans for her future in inconceivable, innumerable ways. Pence and his idiot followers are all for this ban on abortions and punishing women for writing their own stories…but are they even the least bit bothered to do something—anything—to lowering the number of sexual assaults and violence against women in this country? Or the stigma that still comes with being a young mother or single mother? Do they concern themselves with the circumstances of a woman’s pregnancy? That maybe a rape victim doesn’t want to carry around a constant reminder of one of the worst moments/days/nights of her life for nine long months? Do they care if that child will go hungry and starve, have no shelter, have no love or care or receive no affection throughout his/her life? Do they consider any of those things before even considering turning over Roe vs. Wade or have Trump sign some executive order against abortions? Hell no. It’s fucking bullshit. And Trump–he’s ordered a steel wall to be built that will separate families and undo political ties with a bordering country that we’ve mutually benefitted from one another at points in time.


And now with this Muslim Ban? I swear, that orange fucking POS is batshit crazy. Banning travel into and out of countries that practice the Muslim religion, thereby stranding hundreds of people, dividing families, keeping desperate refugees literally fleeing for their and their family’s lives from asylum and just a small semblance of safety, and increasing tensions world-wide in ways that aren’t favorable at all to the United States…is he for real? And the best part is that the countries he’s put his ban on aren’t either of the countries from which any extremists or terrorists who have struck on US soil in the past have immigrated from. Meanwhile, Saudi Arabia—the country that has homegrown, trained, and sent thousands of terrorists to our shores with the sole purpose of taking as many human—American human—lives as they possibly can—nope, no ban on that country. Can you say oil?


I saw this quick clip earlier of the thousands of people that have gathered at Terminal 4 at JFK in New York to protest Trump’s latest ban and as ashamed as I of my country and the fucking shit that’s been piling up at the hands of that orange bastard…I was moved by their strength and perseverance at being there and speaking up and doing something to counteract Trump and to let the American people be the ones to define and write the country’s narrative (and NOT Trump’s!) and do so in a way that doesn’t alienate or create even more division within this country and around the world. There’s enough division as it is. So far, all of Trump’s so-called “great” plans have only worked to widen the division further…and nothing else. People keep saying that we need to give him a chance…but that’s now a terrifying thought. He’s gone way too far. Sure, he’s keeping his white-sheet-wearing buddies and billionaire suit cronies happy…but at America’s expense—both the people AND the country. It needs to stop. HE needs to be stopped. We need to take back this country and stick to the ideals we set forth in the past. I’m not saying there aren’t any things that couldn’t be adjusted or changed altogether… just that we need to stop this cancer at its start, before it spreads like wildfire, out of control and dangerous to all our well-beings. That’s really the only option we have at this point.

Image result for muslimban jfk


So I ask you…will you speak up or stay silent in your little bubbles of indifference? Will you join the movement to plot this ship back on its rightful course? America…we made a grievous mistake back in November. It’s on us to make that right. And we can. Together. We’re stronger when we’re together. We always have been. We always will be…<3

xoMESSIE

 

Tabled. For Now. January 20, 2017

Filed under: decisions,health — MESSIE @ 1:52 am
Tags: , , , , , ,

So I received some pretty unsettling news yesterday. I had my post-op follow-up with the pain management doctor and she seemed just as disappointed with the results of last month’s nerve block injection as I was, and still am. Or lack thereof, I should say. I hadn’t been too keen on the idea of the nerve block to begin with, but I had still hoped that it would work. After all the hell and the bullshit of these past 18 months—all the failed medications and inconclusive tests, the doctors and specialists, the vision therapy, and the acupuncture—I was (and still am) more than ready for it all to be over with. If that meant some simple yet painful needle and injection into the nerves above my eyes—then so be it. But, and as always seems to be the case, it didn’t take. Just another example of my shitty luck, in a string of so many.


We agreed to try the second nerve injection, seeing that I already had the authorization for it from the insurance and that it wouldn’t hurt any to at least try. So that’ll be happening again sometime in the upcoming 2 weeks or so. I’m not at all looking forward going through that again (though I’ll definitely be asking the doctor to give the local some time to do its job and numb things up a bit BEFORE he sticks that needle into the new nerve — but if it works—or if it at least decreases the intensity or frequency of these headaches to some degree—it’ll be worth it. The doctor didn’t sound too hopeful, though.


She talked about the more invasive, surgical approach—the implant—and said that I was a really good candidate for it. It’s called an Occipital Peripheral Nerve Stimulator and for those of you who aren’t familiar, picture a pacemaker…but a little different. She (the doctor) didn’t really talk much about it, only to give me the basics—probably for the fact that when she turned around to ask when I’d like to schedule the procedure, she found me still shaking my head no – which I hadn’t stopped doing ever since the moment she started talking about the approach. From an outsider’s perspective, it was actually a pretty comical moment… me shaking my head “no” and her nodding hers “yes” for a good 30 seconds, at least. Surprisingly—and thankfully—she didn’t push the subject. She just wrote down the name of the procedure, told me to “Google It”, and that we could table that particular discussion at one of my next appointments. I’m grateful that she’s not one of those doctors that push you into agreeing to some crazy surgery that you 1) have no guarantee will even work; and 2) that you haven’t had the opportunity or time to research it for yourself enough to make an informed decision.


That said, I did do some reading on the procedure when I got home and well, as you can imagine, it was a little overwhelming. The good news is that the procedure has an 80-90 percent success rate at completely and/or significantly reducing the frequency of the headaches, as well de-intensifying the pain. Those are some pretty impressive odds, I have to admit. But then again, I haven’t had the track record when it comes to luck and odds, whereas this whole thing is concerned. After all, when it comes to the statistics, less than 5 percent of people that sustain a head injury or concussion go on to suffer permanently from post-concussive headaches and other PCS symptoms. The other 95 percent have no lasting issues and the symptoms go away completely by 6 months to a year after the initial injury, if not sooner. Those were some pretty good odds, too … and we all know how well that turned out. Obviously. I think I’d feel a little more comfortable with the procedure if there were a guarantee of some sort. Even just a little one. Something. Anything to at least back up somehow or support the justification of allowing them to cut into the back of my head.


But there aren’t any guarantees. However, there are some risks, many of which are similar to having any kind of surgery done. Things can go wrong on the table. Things like my blood pressure (which for some reason tend to always run a little low) crashing (it’s happened a couple of times in the past actually) or misplacement of the electrodes or – knock on wood – possibly even death. Though I guess in terms of ways to go, completely unaware and unconscious isn’t that bad.


In light of my hesitation on the surgery, we’re going to try a few more options. That means another nerve block and then possibly Botox injections—another approach I’m not too keen on—but far less invasive than surgery. I know a few people who get the Botox shots every few months and they’ve seen some radical improvement. Maybe I’ll get lucky and catch a break with Botox, who knows. So surgery is on the backburner, at least for right now. I don’t want to make any rash decisions without really knowing what I’m getting myself into this time. As they say, it doesn’t hurt to be a little cautious.


So we’ll see and hopefully my next update will have some better news. Until then. Signing off … xoMESSIE

 

 
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