Ain't only the teachers heading back to work

I know its been forever, but I am suffering a huge aversion to the Blogger at the moment. There are many things I must tell you about. I will make a list and when I'm more in the mood I will give you all the dirt.

*going back to ZeD on Monday. Thank fucking God. I am excited and nervous.

*went to the VIFF closing gala, got very drunk and was, perhaps unnaturally, delighted by the graphic re-telling of a friend's barium enema

*friend from NYC is in town visiting. She brought me a fantastic new shirt and the first and sadly the last season of The Comeback. I heart NY.

*discovered Borat

*roadtripped it to Seattle

*still have no cable television nor a single snippet of internet access. I desperately miss Ancient History Tuesdays and Top Model.

*still haven't rec'vd my signing bonus from the CBC - I will have to borrow rent money from my parents. Humiliating.

*bit a massive chunk out of the inside of my cheek (overzealous gum chewing)

*currently having asthma issues. Can't breathe. My back aches.

*went to a Greek Food Festival tonight. Stuffed myself with loukoumades. Delish.

*found amazing retro lamps at the Union Gospel Thrift shop. They've been in storage for 20 years. They still have the original tags on them. I bought 4 and may go back for more. I carried them home, walking along East Hastings and endured several filthy comments.

Okay, seriously... I can't fucking breathe! Pisses me off. I'm going now. I'll write more later. Betcha can't wait!

still unemployed

that is all

wham bam

A real quickie...

I haven't been much in the mood for internet nor have I really had access. I'm healing nicely, it seems. I've gone to a few VIFF films and I've slept... A LOT. The lockout is over. Next week (maybe, maybe) we may find out the status of ZeD. I found out that I qualify for a signing bonus, so I can pay my rent. Nice. I'm about to head out to the VIFF Anniversary Gala. I bought a new outfit. It cost me dearly and I fear it is dull and safe. Last night I tried on a red BCBG dress with sky-high gold stilletos. It was amazing. I wanted the outfit sooooooo badly. The dress was $362 and the shoes were $197. I went so far into my break with reality that I asked the clerk to put the dress aside while I "thought about it". We both knew I wouldn't be back. One day... one day, I'm gonna be able to buy a snazzy frock just like that one and it won't break the bank. I guess it's a good thing that I don't have a credit card. So, whatever. I will simply keep the red lipstick freshly applied and drink plenty. I am interested to see what happens when I mix alcohol with all the medications coursing through my veins.

I have other things to tell you, but I'm pressed for time.

wheezy breezy covergirl: part II

So, the worst was over, right? Not hardly. I had to have an IV. Now, you should know that I have a serious IV phobia. In fact, I have a whole vein phobia. Just writing this is creeping me out and I can't stop focussing on the rising veins on my hands as I type. I have serious issues. But my hero nurse was a pro and was very sympathetic to my juvenile fears. He told me 2 more ventolin treatments and some rehydrating via the IV and I was free to go. But first I had to meet with the respiration therapist. The guy came in and he was a total dude. He seemed maybe 16 and talked like a snowboarder. He informed me that things were improving but I was still pretty tight. It took me a minute to decide if he this was dude-speak or a medical term. I assumed he meant my lungs and he was right. He told me he had to go confer with the doctor, look at my x-rays and make a decision about me. 10 minutes later the doctor came in and told me that I was suffering from acute episodic asthma attacks. He prescribed me an inhaler and 7 days of steroids (side effects: increased hunger, restlessness and weight gain - neat). I was free to go. The IV bag was empty. The ventolin had run out.

My nurse came in to say good-bye. He told me that I looked much, much, much better than I did when I came in. He went on a bit more about how awful I had looked. My horrified expression must have caused him to change the subject because he quickly added that he couldn't imagine how scary it must have been - not being able to breathe and all. Better. I thanked him profusely and for a moment I almost didn't want to leave my storage room. He was nice and made me feel safe. But it was time to go home. I was exhausted and a little depressed and confused about becoming asthmatic at the age of 33. I have since learned it's quite common.

I made it through the night with only a few cough attacks. I realized that I had been breathing at half if not less capacity for at least a week. The ventolin and the prednisone had cracked my lungs wide open and I could really appreciate proper airflow. Today I felt much better, although walking back and forth to the bathroom had me wheezing and trying to catch my breath. I will have to take it easy for a bit and make an appointment with my family doctor to find out if I will have this long-term or if it is simply episodic - something I may be prone to if I get a serious chest infection.

And so concludes my month-long foray into poor health. But I'm not really sick anymore. No pnemonia and my lung infection seems to have cleared up. Sure, I may be asthmatic. Big deal. Besides, I've always secretly wanted an inhaler since I was a kid. I can now concentrate on feeling healthier. I mean, let's face it... there is no way things can get any worse than they have been for the past month or so. Yes, it's once again a time of uncertainty. When isn't it?

You cross your fingers for me. You wish me luck in my job search. You wish upon a star that I can afford my rent and maybe while you're at it request that I lose a few pounds - no point in disturbing a star for one measley wish.

I'm sure there will be some new disaster in the near future for me to report, but I promise to give you the truncated version. This post is stupidly long. For all you word-skimmers out there, I forgive you this one time.

And now, I will go to sleep. Tomorrow hopefully I will hear more about when I can get back into the CBC to get my stuff. And who knows? Maybe I won't have to pack up my desk.

wheezy breezy covergirl: part I

So, looks like things are coming to a close and man, do I feel anxious. Yes, I wanted the lockout to end. Yes, I have been too sick to picket and I've definitely missed my paycheque. BUT, I don't know if I have a job. And now I have no picket pay to live off of and I won't get EI for a month. I am hopeful and excited for ZeD. There will be mucho work to be done in a very short time-line. If I am hired back, my schedule could be gruelling. I will have to find new things to blog about.

Like, say... the fact that I spent Sunday in the hospital after a massive and very frightening asthma attack. The night previous I was enduring unimaginable coughing fits - one after the other. And I'm afraid I'm gonna have to pin this one on the picket line. I finally got up the energy to picket and after a few hours in the cold things took a turn for the worse. I couldn't catch my breath. I had a few moments of real panic when it felt like my chest was going to collapse and I couldn't draw a full breath. A call to the 24-hour nurses hotline informed me that a 911 call was in order. No way. The thought of being escorted at 4 am into an ambulance was too horrifying of a thought. I just moved in and it just wasnt the impression I wanted to make on my new neighbours. It's bad enough that I've kept them awake for a couple of weeks with my incessant bronchial freak-outs. The ambulance service called me and I had to convince them that I absolutely did not need their services. I explained that I had a cold and I was fine. I guzzled half a bottle of Nyquil and passed out. But the next day I felt like shit and decided to swing into the emergency. I was afraid I was developing pneumonia.

So, I signed into the St Paul's emergency room and settled in for what was obviously going to be a very long wait. I placed a call on my cell phone only to be reamed out by two drunks. I had forgotten that cell phones are forbidden in hospitals. It was after I disengaged the line that I noticed all the big posters of cell phones with garish red slashes through them. I read a magazine and tried to ignore the fact that I was starting to feel OK. It had been a couple of hours since my last coughing fit and I was considering taking a powder. And then it hit. Like a motherfucking maelstrom (yes, I know that usually refers to a whirlpool, but it seems apt). I made it to the desk before I keeled over. Everyone ran for their SARS masks and I was ordered to put one on. They started asking me all these questions which I couldn't answer since I was heaving up a lung and wearing a Blue Velvet-esque face mask.

I was whisked away into a makeshift room that was was basically a supply closet. I was quickly undressed and an oxygen mask was applied. They were lifting my shirt and listening to my lungs. This did not make me happy. All I could think about was trying to sit up straighter in order to appear slimmer but my body wouldn't co-operate. Instead I doubled over more as my body tried to resist losing conciousness. After 5 minutes that felt like hours it began to pass. I was put on a ventolin mask and instructed to lie back. And so I did. The nurse I had was incredibly kind. He was just the nicest man. So nice that I felt ridiculously sentimental. He put a sheet over me and smoothed the fabric over my shoulders reassuringly. It was a small gesture, but I nearly burst into tears. The doctor came in and asked if I was asthmatic and I told him that I most definitely was not, but that I had a chest cold. He told me that I seem to have asthma now. I didn't buy it and dismissed the idea. He was really nice too. Referred to me as poor thing and promised that it would get better shortly.

As the doctor was looking me over, I overheard my beloved nurse getting into an argument with a nasty, fat bitch of nurse over my admittance. She was complaining loudly that I never should have been allowed into emergency. That acute patients are too much of a risk and she wanted him to get rid of me. My nurse responded by saying there was no way he was putting me out. He came back in the room and I could hear her nattering on behind him. The ventolin was working and I was able to breathe again and all I wanted to do with my returning strength was beat the living shit out of that fat cow. My nurse put his mask back on and begged my pardon saying it was nothing personal. Fine by me. He left me to finish my ventolin course and told me I would be going for x-rays shortly.

It was humiliating. A pert blonde fetched me and proceeded to push me through the busy waiting room and down the crowded halls to the x-ray ward. I wanted to die. I looked horrid with sweat-soaked hair, a tank-top sans bra and a big rubber mask on my face. I stared hard at my feet. I lifted my arms, pressed my tits up against the machine and the job was done. It was back down the halls and through the waiting room. Some people must have been seriously pissed. They had been waiting hours and I was admitted before any of them. Perhaps my embarrassment was the price I had to pay for prompt service.

... to be continued

in her own words

I woke up to this IM from Slush.

cough-ee talk says: (5:59:23 PM)
tell them i still very sick

cough-ee talk says:(5:59:28 PM)
and that i am getting medicine

cough-ee talk says: (5:59:37 PM)
and that the mice are on their way out

cough-ee talk says: (5:59:49 PM)
and post stursburg foto

cough-ee talk says: (5:59:52 PM)
i will send it to gmail