Stars

"This might kill me," I yelled to my Mom in the living room. She ignored me because I shout out random phrases all day that are completely relevant to me, but usually to no one else. I suspect the next thing she heard was grinding metal and few small crashes as I lugged the paint ladder out of the hallway and into my room. I was feeling pretty good today and I didn't know how long it would last so I got right down to some important business. One of those things was hanging up my stars.

Earlier today I posted about the stars Rayne made for me. Well, they have now been successfully hung above my bed. I'm so happy about it. They look so magical and now I have something pretty to look at when I'm lying in bed. Here are some pictures:

My friends Gina and Aprille came over for a visit this evening and thought they were just wonderful. Hear that, Rayne? They used words like "incredible". I'm not lying. Gina, being a crocheter, thought the crocheted chains were very cool.

Today Mom told me I should start thinking about what I wanted to do for my birthday. What I wanted to do? Gosh, I hadn't thought about that. So I did. I settled on lemonade and peanut butter cookies at a quiet tea time. Apparently my first request of Rayne's chocolate chip cookies was shooting too high. I also requested Nakies, Sam and Lin back from the dead as well as a new liver. Mom told me those were perfectly acceptable things to wish for, but I needed to think of something that I wanted to do or did I maybe want some more sweatpants? I thought about it and eventually decided that going to the zoo would be nice, as long as a wheelchair could be obtained. Then a wheelchair was added to my presents list. From there I just said, "I dunno, music, movies and books." I was given a subscription to Netflix right away, which is awesome.

Now is the part where I give a deep, personal paragraph about how my perspectives have changed and I don't even really think about material gifts anymore, I just want to be able to get up and clean the rat cages, but I'm too tired. I wore myself out and I'm probably going to pay for it tomorrow. But as my friend Rayne says (I mention her far too often, don't I?), "If doesn't kill me, it's within my limits." L'chaim!

Prezzies!

Today I finally got around to unpacking the beautiful stars Rayne made for me. I didn't realize there were so many! With so many different colored beads! I hung them all on my door for now. I plan to hang them around my ceiling for a night sky effect. I'm pretty excited about it. The picture hardly does them justice, but aren't they beautiful?

I also took a picture of all the cool toys Staci brought me yesterday, with the exception of the sidewalk chalk. I took it outside yesterday and did a little drawing.

It's been a good day so far. I haven't had much pain so I've been up trying to get things done because I never know when I'll have to go back to bed. I'm already starting to wear down, but I'm going to try and do just a few more things. But right now I'm going to do the little game thing that Rayne posted.

I say ... and you think ... ?

Loneliness :: Someone in blue jeans sitting with their head on their knees. Preferably in an alley.
Traffic :: Exhausting
Chaos :: I want to hide.
Burp :: Gross. My sister pretends to make these gross burps all the time because she is not capable of making one naturally. Why does she think this is attractive?
500 :: The number five followed by two zeros. If you multiply ten times fifty you get five hundred. I like to think of the multiples.
Movie :: Big, silver screen that makes me feel like I'm flying.
Coma :: Scary. You can't even dream. Well, at least, I don't remember dreaming during my last coma...
Bark :: I find the bark on trees very comforting. I find dogs barking make me want to strangle innocent bystanders. Especially if said dog is a beagle.
Stare :: I like to stare. It means soaking in an image.
Angelina :: The mouse who danced. Angelina Ballerina. We named one of our rats Angelina once. She was a Wesleyan rat and very athletic.

Now you're tagged and you can play the game!

Nakies

It’s only 5 o’clock and already today has been a weird, sad and eventful day. This morning Staci (of Capital City Rat Rescue) brought my rat Nakies over for a visit and a tooth trimming. Staci has been caring for Nakies and my rat Mabel for about a month now since both girls are old rats and needed special care that I didn’t have the health to give them.
I knew that Nakies had been declining, but when I saw her this morning I was hit by how bad she’d gotten. Not that Staci wasn’t taking good care of her. She was giving my rats the best care available. But Nakies was old, there was no denying that. My mom decided that she should be kept here to die at home. It was evident Nakies wasn’t going to be around that much longer.
Staci also brought me…Toys! Becca is gonna have some fun this 4th of July, that’s for sure. I got sidewalk chalk, bubbles, silly string, some wooden Brain Benders, one of those awesome 20 questions balls, an adorable guinea pig beanie baby and a hilarious card of people doing a fashion show of hospital gowns. Everyone’s butts are hanging out, of course and the front says, “Next…Thelma strolls the surgery floor with confidence in this ‘sassy’ bile green evening gown.” The inside says, “Hope to see your sassy butt out of bed real soon.” It’s great.
Staci was sent off with all my boy rats. I can’t care for all of my rats right now and their cage was posing a particular challenge for me. The boys were very excited about all of this, except for Luke, my old boy. He all of sudden seemed weak and sick. Staci knew to keep an eye on him since he is very elderly, so she promised me to keep a very close eye on him from now on. Apparently, when Staci got the boys back to her house, Luke wasn’t doing so well. He’s very lethargic and can’t walk very well, possible signs of a previous stroke. Luke is going to be getting some special care and antibiotics, but he may not be around that long.
When Nakies first came this morning I could tell that, even though she wasn’t doing so hot, she was still Nakies. Throughout the next few hours she seemed to decline very rapidly and the Nakies we knew began to disappear. Mid afternoon, Nakies passed away while my mom was holding her. We think she held on until she could see her family again. A lot of rats seem to choose how they want to die. Some wait until their owners are gone and some hang on until their people can be there with them. We’re glad we were able to be with Nakies and she could be home.
Nakies was the smartest rats I’ve ever met. And I’ve owned rats for 11 years now. She did a lot of “bad” things and outsmarted me many times, but she endeared herself to our family and our friends many times over. We were truly blessed to have such a lively rat in our lives. She will be greatly missed.

The New Hair

So now my hair has fushia streaks in it as well. It's super cool. I like how it looks next to the purple. Some of the streaks got dyed with the purple and that looks really cool, too.

...Sorry, I'm not very coherant. On narcotics over here....

Sorry I'm in my jammies and looking sick. I wasn't up to a full-blown photo shoot, but I know everyone wanted to see my hair.

Life Reflections on my Health

It's 3 in the morning-the perfect time for blogging. There's an atmosphere of uninhibited, magical honesty at this time of night/day. I'm not awake for the purpose of blogging, however. I'm up because fever and pain won't let me sleep. Cupcake the rat is running around my bed, keeping me company. This is one good trait about Cupcake: She stays on the bed. Except in the case that she does something daring and accidentally falls off the bed. Cupcake, however, is still a nuisance, running back and forth on the bed, stopping only to run over me with her sharp baby nails. Still, she's distracting and that's good.

I seem to be getting sicker and sicker. Everyday is a little bit worse than the one before. Hopefully this is a phase of some sort and soon I'll be back to my normal sick level. Coming back from the evaluation, though, I was a little overwhelmed. All these others things I didn't even know about are wrong with me. It seems and feels like my body is just shutting down, like it doesn't want to live anymore. Sometimes it seems like my will to live is the only thing keeping me alive. And I suppose that's partly true. It's easy to take this in stride most of the time. I mean, I've grown up getting nothing but bad news about my body; but sometimes, like I said, it gets overwhelming. I wouldn't say I'm overwhelmed tonight, but the huge amount of pain I'm in forces things into perspective.

I've had doctors tell me since I was four, "We're going to fix this or that problem and then you'll be able to live life as a normal person." Up until about two years ago I believed them. The fact of the matter is, no matter how many problems we "solve" another one always comes up to take its place. Even the problems that were supposed to be solved years ago still aren't. I mean, I'm going for my third liver transplant for God's sake. Do I believe I'll live very long? No. Do I believe I'll ever be healthy enough to have the kind of life where I can go to work everyday and pursue my interests? No. Sure, I've had good periods in my life, but they were never good enough to keep me in school on a daily basis or anything like that.

Speaking of school, when all these liver problems started getting serious I dropped out and was told I could come back at a discounted rate whenever I was better (for those of you who don't know, I was taking an online course in veterinary technology). Now, don't get me wrong, I'm all for education. Big time. But I wonder if I should even go back. I enjoy veterinary technology, but if I'm going to be living on disability for the rest of my life I would like to use the time I have to write, to compose, to create. Part of that is because I want to leave something behind other than cages of rats and boxes of pills. I want to leave behind parts of myself, parts of who I am.

Cupcake managed to make her normal mistake of riding a falling DVD case to the floor where she is now happily prancing around. I kinda glad she's gone. Note to self: trim Cupcake's nails.

I think people often underestimate how much pain I'm in or how tired I am. As I'm sure I've mentioned before, I have this uncanny ability of looking, sounding and even acting healthy even when I feel like I'm going to pass out/throw up/explode. I don't try to (at least, I don't think I do). It's been a curse to be for as long as I can remember. You have no idea how often school teachers thought I was faking sickness. I think that even my friends and family can't really tell exactly how I'm feeling. You can't really tell it from reading my blog, but I hate to complain or whine. I'm not going to waste my time doing that. I suppose that may have something to do with how I come off. Also, when you've been sick for as long as I have, you tend to try and carry on in a normal way as much as possible. The only exception to all of this is when I have one of my "episodes". Then I will scream my head off. But even then...I think I hold back. FYI, my "episodes" are when I ovulate. They've sent me to the emergency room more times than I can remember.

The pain med is starting to kick in so I think I'll try and get some sleep.

Evaluation, Days 2 and 3

I’m back! Sorry to everyone about the delay in updates. I’ve been pretty sick lately. My liver transplant evaluation nearly killed me. Okay, that’s an overstatement; but it did push me past my limits which resulted in extra pain, fatigue and a fever.

Day two of liver evaluation: The worst part of this day was the pulmonary test. Before I even got to the breathing-into-a-tube-hooked-up-to-a-computer part they had to take a “blood gas”. Apparently this can’t be done like a regular blood test. They have to go directly into an artery. I clenched my eyes shut as a needle was jabbed into my wrist and (I think) air was pushed into the artery. I was trying really hard not to scream because I could feel the air traveling up my arm and into my heart and it hurt. A lot. Blood was drawn and then the needle was (painfully) removed. As I held the gauze over my wrist I started to break into a sweat and the room turned upside down.
“I think I might pass out,” I said to the guy who had just done this awful thing to me. “And I think I might throw up, too. Do you have a bucket?”
“A bucket?”
“Or I don’t know. Something I could throw up in!”
“Um, let’s see,” he said, starting to look around. “I don’t think I have a bucket.”
“Or a plastic bag. That would work,” I was holding on tight to the table and eyeing the trashcan cautiously in case I had to make a break for it’s vomit-safe confines.
“Do you have a problem with blood?” the guy asked me.
“No! I don’t have a problem with any of that stuff.”

He got me to come over to a different part of the room suggesting that a change of scenery would do me good. He also suggested that I chat with him to get my mind off things. Was this guy daft? If I opened my mouth more than absolutely necessary I was sure I would barf (Rayne later said I should have let loose all over the guy just to teach him a lesson). Nevertheless, I was forced to answer stupid questions about my life to which I mumbled feverish-sounding responses. Miraculously, I was able to go on with the test after things settled down a bit, but my arm and neck hurt the rest of the day. One thing’s for sure: I fully intend to exercise my patient rights of treatment refusal next time I am faced with a blood gas test.

We talked to my liver doctor last thing and he had all sorts of sad things to say. Like, “You have no vitamins in you,” and “You have pre-osteoporosis which will start breaking your bones in a few years and leave you crippled unless we treat it,” or “You have a slight issue with your heart.” (Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal and won’t get in the way of transplantation.)
As he was examining me he says, “So what do you do when you’re not seeing doctors all day?”
“Um, well, I play with my pet rats a lot,” I replied.
“Rats? You have rats?”
“Yes, I have eighteen.”
“Excuse me,” he said and walked quickly from the room.

Mom and I sort of wondered if he had gone to throw up or something, but he came back minutes later saying he’d just talked to another doctor about it and he wasn’t so sure about this rat thing. Mom and I tried to explain that these were domestic rats with species specific diseases. He didn’t seem to get it. Did this guy go to med school in the jungle or what?
“Do the rats ever bite you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Do they ever scratch you?”
“Well, yes, but only if I’ve forgotten to clip their toenails,” I said.
“Where are the scratches?” he demanded.
“Well I don’t have any right now!” He looked rather disappointed.

Finally, we were able to leave and go to Rayne’s house. After the giving out of presents and admiring of rats Michelle started right in on the hair coloring. We did it all in one night and I showered three times. Katy and Rayne made a delicious dinner of breakfast muffins and hash browns. I even got to try one of Rayne’s famous chocolate chip cookies. Did you know she puts cinnamon in them? It’s really interesting (in a delicious way). Then it was time for the shaving cream and food coloring fun. Click here to see the pictures Rayne took. And here to see her blog post on it.

Katy graciously let me sleep in her room. I got a kick out of her bookshelf since it looked so similar to mine. I kept asking her, “Have you read this? How about this? Oh, yes, I loved that book. Have you seen the movie?” I was going to take a picture of said bookshelf, but I forgot. Muffin the cat came to sleep at the end of my bed during the night.
The next morning I left with purplish hair and laden down with comics and these really cool wire and bead stars Rayne made for me. Once I get them hung on my ceiling I’ll take pictures to show ya’ll.

Day three of liver evaluation: All through my evaluation we continued to see the boy I mentioned in my previous blog, and his family, at every one of our appointments. “Mom, you have to promise me we’ll talk to them today,” I said. At one of our last appointments for the day there they were, the only other people in the waiting room. I walked up boldly and said, “So are you getting an evaluation, too?”
“Yes, we are,” replied the mother.
“I’m getting mine for a liver transplant.”
“So is he.”
“This will be my third transplant,”
“His, too!”

And the conversation went from there. They had come from Denver where the transplant hospital had turned the boy down for a liver. According to them it wasn’t a very good hospital. All too soon my name was called and we didn’t see them again. I’m hoping the social worker I talked to will know who they were and help us get in contact with them. It would be really cool to get to know them some more, especially since the boy is close to my age.

I had to take all of these brain tests for one of my appointments. They said that sometimes with a liver disease something scientific and complicated happens and it can make you feel stupid and drugged. I guess that explains why I feel drugged even when I’m not. I proved this theory right, I think, with some of my answers to their brain test questions because I had not taken so much as a Tylenol that morning.
“Who was our last president?”
“Um…um…I don’t kn-Bill Clinton!”
“What’s this a picture of?”
“Um…a…um…wooden clip?”
“No, it’s a clothes pin.” Doh.
“Connect the dots.”
“1...2...3...5.”
“Wait! What comes after three?”
“Oh. Four.”

The positive side is I have wonderful finger dexterity. When asked to explain I listed off all my hobbies that used my fingers. Playing guitar, knitting, origami, painting, etc.

Also, the surgeon we talked to gave us the go ahead for my ovarian cyst removal surgery! I called my gynecologist right away. I can’t wait to get this done. It will take care of about half my pain. I also learned that one of the medications I’m on is for esophageal varices (bleeding bits in my esophagus) and it lowers my blood pressure, thus making me fatigued. So it explains my extra, extra bad fatigue and mysteriously low blood pressure. Next Wednesday everyone (meaning all the doctor types) will get together and go over all my test results. Then, I get put on the transplant list unless someone comes up with some bright idea that will cure me.

After all that I was so tired I could hardly even sleep. Within a couple hours of getting home I was shivering uncontrollably and running a fever of 101.3. Today isn’t much better since it’s that very special time of the month and Becca has a uterus that bleeds into her intestines and 7 centimeters of bloody, possibly infected, fluid hanging off her ovaries. Sorry to be so graphic, but I’m kinda mad that I’m a female right now.

But I’m glad to be home and my ratties and Velvet are glad, too.

Evaluation, Day 1

It was a pretty easy day today as far as appointments go. But I really wasn't feeling well and had a very hard time. I'm kind of cranky about it. But I did take some potty pictures, with I realize is Rayne's thing, but I wanted to give it a try and see how cool it was:

The hoodie from the first pic is the one I was describing in my blog entry, Anatomy of a Hoodie.

There was a kid, maybe around 15, who was in the waiting room of the Multi-Organ Clinic when we were (due to lack of chairs I had to sit on the floor and, being the chivalrous person I am, offered my cane-bearing mother the cushy chair) who looked exactly how I felt. He was wearing bedroom slippers, his arms were pulled into his shirt and was was curled up in the chair trying to sleep. It was obvious he was sick; his skin was yellow and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked kind of like...me, except I'm not quite so yellow. I guess he was waiting for a liver transplant. The boy touched my heart because he seemed to be going through something like I was. I wondered if he had to deal with his liver always hurting or fatigue so bad you can hardly walk straight. I wanted to go over and say something encouraging to him, but I didn't. Instead I watched him out of the corner of my eye.

At the end of our appointments I waited outside while mom went to get the car. I'm working on knitting some socks right now and that's what I was doing while I was waiting. At one point two guys, probably around my age, walked past and started whispering about something. I thought I caught something like, "That girl! She's the one!" I hoped they weren't whispering about me because, well, they didn't exactly look trustworthy. Turns out they were talking about me because seconds later they walked up to me and said, "We have a question." Oh God, please don't let them be hitting on me, I thought. I can hardly walk right now, let alone outrun two perverts.

Apparently one of them had been doing a crossword puzzle that morning and there had been a five-letter word for a knitting stitch and they could not for the life of them figure it out. Since they saw me knitting they decided to ask me. I breathed a sigh of relief and tried to help them with their dilemma. I couldn't think of a five-letter word for a knit stitch so they thanked me for my help and walked off shouting their room number and floor at the hospital in case I thought of anything. They were laughing when they said it so I'm pretty sure they had other things on their mind besides crossword puzzles. I heard one of them say, "She has a nice smile." Looking back on the whole thing it's actually pretty cute.

In other news, my rat Lin, who has been sick because of a spinal injury passed away today. We got home from Omaha and she was long gone. It's weird because I never once thought that this sickness would kill her, but for some reason I wasn't surprised. It's like subconsciously I knew it was going to happen. Minutes after we found Lin our vet called to check up on her.

Lin was one of the sweetest rats I've ever met. She was one of the Nebraska Wesleyan Xtreme Rat Challange rats and we adopted her in late April of this year. Lin's favorite thing to do was to sit outside with me. She'd start bruxing before we even got out the door. She was a very, very snuggly and loving rat. I'm going to miss her. I'm writing about Lin in a different color to give her special honor in this blog. Is that weird?

I learned the other day that, if someone give you instructions about something while you're on codeine, have them explain it to you very specifically. Otherwise you end up telling your friend how great Tim's pancakes are when, in actuality, Tim and the family are meeting you for waffles at a local coffee shop. You might also end up driving around town a lot, wondering where everybody is. My mom says, "When you talk to Becca you have to ask her when she's last taken narcotics."

4 Things

I created an album with pictures of me during some of my hospital stays as a child. Why did I do this? I guess because Rayne has hospital pictures and I was feeling left out. And maybe it will make her feel better to see that she's not the only one who's had to go through crap.

Just for fun:

4 Things You May or May Not Have Known About Me

1)I've had 4 years or so of classical voice training and can sing opera.
2)I've only known how to walk for 12 years...kinda. I had to learn to walk again after my first transplant.
3)When I listen to music I sometimes make up music videos for the songs.
4) I'm afraid of very large pansies. I once had a dream that they came to life, rode motorcycles and ate people.

Now it's your turn!

I'm really tired. I think I'm just gonna go to sleep soon. I haven't had a very good day, but it was productive nonetheless. I'm too tired to blog about it all. Let's just say I got some stuff ready for Monday, I took a rat to the vet and RAYNE POSTED A BLOG ABOUT ME!

Post #3

I know this is my 3rd post today but...Rayne listed me under "Blogs I Read"!!! I'm super excited.

:D

Motivational Toys

Well, I popped half a codine and managed to get a couple rat cages cleaned, thank God. I really didn't feel well for the first part of the day. Then, as usual, it got to be around 4 o'clock and I started feeling like maybe I should do something. Maybe I don't really feel better, but by four I'm so bored I'm up for anything. Who knows?

So I went to PetCo and got Cupcake some chew toys and got some more yoggies, among other assorted items. Then I went over to Target to get Rayne and myself some toys. I figured we both needed some mindless entertainment for those times when we're stuck in bed so I picked up some fun items. I really enjoyed assembling it all, it was like making an Easter basket or something. But I think I'll call it a care package instead. So, Rayne, whenever I come visit you get presents! :) I'm gonna play with my toys tonight while I watch a movie. And no, I won't tell you what I got because I'm going to assume Rayne will read this blog and I don't want to ruin it for her ;)

Today, Cupcake made a break for it and ran down the hallway. I caught her pretty easily.

I've been thinking how, I don't know, lazy my life is. I mean, granted, I get up and I get things done everyday. But when I start my day I'm so icky feeling that I never do anything like take time to brush my teeth properly, change out of my pajamas or at least develop some kind of plan. I usually just turn on my laptop and start where I left off the day before. I'm thinking my life need a little more routine. For efficiency's sake as well as to make me feel a bit more normal, like I'm not sick and dying.

Today my sister came in with a celebratory fast food lunch (her orthopedic doctor had just written a note waving all her phys. ed. classes for the next year) and I was sitting in bed, hunched over, in my jammies and staring at the computer screen. She said, "Get up! It's a wonderful day!" (although she immediately sat down on my bed and popped in a DVD). To me it translated, "Look alive!" So I'm going to try to look and act alive from now on because sometimes I act like I'm dead. Not that I'm depressed, I just have no motivation. At least, not much.

Okay, well, I'm off to play with toys and harass the rats some more.

Dreams of Liver Pain

Not so great this morning. I woke up at 7:14 for some reason. I decided to try and get up, which lasted until about 9 when I fell back asleep and slept until after 11.

I had a couple dreams with a common thread. In the first one I was about 8 years old and my little friends were playing a game where they stole their friends’ clean underwear. I was the victim of one such expedition and while my friends were jumping and laughing, holding wads of my underwear in their hands I just played along. After this went on for some time it became obvious to me that these little hooligans had no intention of giving me my underwear back. I’ll pause here to say that a couple weeks ago I went out and bought a couple packs of tame, neutral underwear so that when doctors were prodding me they wouldn’t have to deal with bright blue lace or anything embarrassing like that. Back in the dream I started crying that I was sick and I needed that underwear for hospital purposes. They didn’t believe me and I started getting hysterical, “I’m sick! I’m sick! I need those! I have a liver disease!” It was awful, but I think the kids eventually compromised and gave me back half my underwear.

The second dream I had was where I was in this little walk-in salon. Someone else (a girl about my age with her father) was there getting some service at the same time. There was only one person working at the salon and there was only station at which to get your beauty needs taken care of. I had gotten there first and so I assumed I would be served first. The salon lady gave me these supplies I was supposed to mix together, which I did, and then she started talking to the other girl about what she wanted done. It was then that I realized the other girl was being served first and I had mixed up the beauty gunk wrong. I immediately admitted my mistake and apologized profusely.

I patiently waited my turn while the girl got her nails done (her father watching on). When I accidentally caught her eye I noticed that she was glaring at me with obvious hatred and disgust. That made me really mad since I’d already made amends for messing up her beauty time. I talked right to her and said, “I‘m sorry, do you have a problem with me?”
“Yeah I have a problem with you,” she snarled at me.
“Well I told you I was sorry. If you want me to pay for what I wasted I’ll be more than happy to do that,” I replied angrily.
“No!” she said with a look that clearly said she didn’t want my money defiling her beauty experience.
“Well, listen,” I said, “I’m not going to fight with you because I’m tired and don’t feel well. Just stop staring at me like I’m Hitler or something.”

I sat down again, but it wasn’t long before I felt something hot and pointy on my stomach. I looked down and saw that the father was using this hot pen that was supposed to draw nail polish designs on the desired nail. And he was using it on my stomach, right where my liver was and it hurt like crap. I jumped up and started yelling.
“What the hell is your problem?!” The father just shrugged.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” He shrugged again.
“I have a liver disease, you idiot! And guess where the liver is?” I pointed to the pink nail polish staining my shirt.
“I’m waiting for a transplant and you probably just messed things up big time!” The father didn’t seem to care at all, so I went on.
“I also have a bowel disease and guess where that is?” I pointed right below the nail polish stain. “Thanks for ruining my life!” I exaggerated. It was all so incredibly infuriating and unfair. How could anyone be so heartless? The daughter piped up then.
“You’re just a little bitch, so who cares?” I gave her a burning glare.
“Same to you!” I said “I was nothing but considerate to you and you had no right to treat me this way. Forget me ever paying a dime towards your nails.”

I picked up my jacket and said, “So suck,” picked up my purse, “on,” opened the door, “this!” And I let the door slam. I ran down the flights of stairs until then ended, but I did see the father come out and try to throw something at me.

When I woke up I was lying on my right side and so my liver hurt right where the dream nail polish had been. I know it doesn’t seem that bad, but that dream was one awful nightmare. And no, I don’t usually have a temper like that. Only in my dreams… :)

Reading List, Among Other Things

I found Velvet and Cassie sleeping on my bed today. Velvet (the black one) lives in my room pretty much all the time and follows me if I leave my room. Actually, she thinks it's her room and she's very territorial about it. That's why it's surprising she let Cass on the bed, let alone snuggle with her.

The other picture is one of my dooldles I did of a black cat. Yup, I like black cats.

Today was alright. I got some stuff done. I went over to Gina's in the evening and did some altering on some of my big, huge t-shirts. I'm trying to expand my Somewhat Larger and Casual T-Shirt collection since 1)My tummy keeps getting bigger 2)I want to be comfortable, yet not look homeless or like I'm in my pajamas and 3) Who knows when I'll have all sorts of tubes coming out of me that need to be concealed?

I managed to finish three shirts and I am very satistfied. I also did some emo altering to them by cutting off all hems, making the sleeves a little shorter and cutting out the collars.

When I got home this evening I was very excited to see no less than three fireflies light up in our yard. I did see one firefly a couple weeks ago, so I knew they were out, but it made me happy to see some more serious glowing-butt action.

Today Cupcake managed to gnaw off part of the lid to a large tupperware container through her cage bars. This made me very angry, especially since she went back to her chewing spot and seemed very put out to find her chew toy gone.

I made a list of some of my favorite books (at least the ones I can think of at the moment) and was wondering if anyone else has read any of these books and, if you have, what did you think? If you haven't read many of these books then consider this your personal reading list and come talk to me when you're done. Okay, I'm kidding. Just wondering if anyone else shares some of my favorites.

Hounds of the Morrigan by Pat O'Shea

Coraline by Neil Gaiman

Skellig by David Almond

Sabriel, Lirael and Abhorsen (Trilogy) by Garth Nix

Un Lun Dun by China Meville

The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver

Twlight series by Stephanie Meyer

Pellinor quartet by Alison Croggon

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Echo by Francesca Lia Block

Inkheart by Cornelia Funke

His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman

Artemis Fowl series by Eoin Colfer (I actually never finished this series. He ended it and then a year or two later said, "Never mind!" and came out with three more books.)

Zel by Donna Jo Napoli

East by Edith Pattou

A Wrinkle In Time by Madeline L'Engle

The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge

The Neverending Story by Michael Ende

The Chronicles of Narnia series by C.S. Lewis

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tokien

Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling

Wow, that was longer than I thought it would be.

Oh, and this video of a hedgehog is adorable. Who knew thay had such a range of facial expressions?

The Doodles

Here are the doodles I did of Rayne's quotes in art class yesterday. I'm very disappointed in how they scanned. The pot of peas had green paint in it (for the peas) and some yellow (for the flames) and the toilet has so gold paint worked into it. Can you see this on the scanned copy? No. Stupid, old scanner...

Purple Haze

(Rayne, I'm too lazy to write this out again, so I'm stealing my own words from the email I sent you)

My mom woke me up this morning asking why I hadn't dropped off Shirley at the vets for her surgery and I said, "I told you yesterday you were supposed to do it!" She didn't remember me saying anything of the kind and she had to leave for play rehersal so guess who had to get up, throw on some clothes and drive? Mornings are the hardest for me, so I hoped that the pain wouldn't kick in until I'd gotten home. Somehow, though, I dragged myself to the grocery store for more rice milk and yogurt. I stocked up on baby food, too since the only food I've been eating the last few days are nutritional shakes and potato chips. I also got one of those "Gerber Graduates" meals. Just my size! When I came home I made my sister make me some french toast, which I ate even though it made me full and nauseous for hours. Oh well. I wouldn't have eaten anything otherwise. And I was able to go pick up Shirley just now and she is doing wonderfully. So yes, after all that I want to pass out. My liver is mad. I don't think he likes me anymore.

I managed to take a shower later on and then drove back to the clinic to pick up Shirley. She did great and her site looked wonderful. I was so tired, though, I probably shouldn't have been driving. I went home and took a codine.

Then I went to art! It was a blast. I drew a picture of a pot of peas and wrote "Peas are my favorite-Rayne" under it. I also drew a black cat, a couch and a girl with a huge, green, liver with an angry face and two sad ovaries. She had yellow eyes like me. I just noticed today how yellow my eyes are. My bilirubin must be through the roof. The last thing I drew was a toilet that had another Rayne quote, "I don't care if I have to strap a potty to my ass". I just got such a kick out of those lines that I had to draw corresponding doodles.

My art teacher introduced me to a mother of a new student the way she always introduces me, "This is Becca and I first met her when she was dying"
"Yup," I say casually, "And I'm dying again now."

I first met my art teacher when I was 11 and she was my 6th grade art teacher. March of that school year I got my second liver transplant. Ms. Mattley has a flair for the dramatic. Now I just go to her house and there's only one other student there besides my sister and we sat outside and worked on whatever project we wanted.

I finished The Host last night. Excellent book! Some of her character scenarios are the same as in her Twilight books, but it was still very original.

A couple days ago I got my list of appointments for my transplant evaluation. The evaluation lasts three says and it deteremines if I need a new liver transplant and if I do (which is very, very likely) then it will determine where and how I am placed on the list. The test are from early morning until early afternoon and consist of everything from X-Rays to social workers.

Apparently they have me scheduled for a chest x-ray, EkG, blood test and drug screen all at the same time. I'm not looking forward to seeing the nutritionist. "Yes, I eat a diet of potato chips and Boost." Like that's going to go over well. I can't eat that much, but the nutritionist will probably demand some potato chip-free diet and make me eat, I dunno, cereal made out of crushed up vitamins or something. Or make me guzzle a bag of that IV fluid.

I love IV nutrition. No eating involved and it makes me feel so much better.

When I was a kid, before I had procedures or surgery, my mom and I would write silly messages on my tummy and tape gum and the like to it. That way, when the doctor moved my hospital gown he got a surprise. We figured out all sorts of ways to make hospitals fun. I can't really do that anymore now that I'm 20 (21 in three weeks!). They'd probably put me in a straight jacket.

But that made me think that, before I get all in this transplant thing, I want to do something to make me a little more original. I want to do something kinda crazy. Ya know, just in case I die or something. The first thing that came to mind was purple highlights. I know I'm lame, so shut up. But now I'm dead serious. I want to get purple streaks in my hair. I'm gonna do it! I mean, I've been pretty much wearing sweats and no makeup for 6 months. I can't be as original with my apperence as I would normally. But I can change my hair.

Anatomy of a hoodie

Just thought I'd throw in a pic of a nook in our backyard for effect.

Well, the ulcerative colitis has calmed down a little. But I'm still so tired. The tiredness that seems to make my heart feel like lead and my lungs feel cramped. My appetite has gone from bad to worse. Back to a diet of nutritional shakes for me! Apparently I've lost, like, 10 lbs. in just a few months, but it certainly doesn't show. Probably has something to do with my liver being the size of Texas and my ovaries being the size of...um....a state slightly smaller than Texas. Anyway, I'm complaining, so I'll shut up.

I did go to the mall with my sister. We only went to a couple stores, so it wasn't a major feat or anything. And I got the coolest hoodie ever. It's all neon colored on a black background and it makes you look like you've just stepped in front of an x-ray because it's got bones on it! As in, it corresponds to the bones in your body. Rib cage on the front, arm bones on the side, etc. Even the hood has a skull. It reminds me of my favorite t-shirt as a kid which was more of the same. When you grow up in the hospital you develop a deep affection for anatomy. The hoodie makes me happy since it reminds me of my childhood.

Shirley, our rat, has to have yet another surgery. In just a week she's sprouted a tumor near her groin which is effecting her bladder. She's getting the tumor removed tomorrow morning, so that's good. Poor Shirley has already been through two tumor removals and is getting over an infection from her last surgery, which was about 2 weeks ago.

We're in the process of moving my rats to Capital City Rat Rescue to live with Staci until I'm healthy enough to take care of them again. Two of my rats are already there. Once I rat starts requiring extra care, it has to be moved to Staci's since I can't give it the care it needs. And boy does Staci spoil my rats!

Speaking of rats, I got this message on YouTube today (where I post videos of my rattie clan):

Subject: RATS!!!!!!!!!!

I LOVE YOUR RATS AND THEY ARE SO CUTE I HAVE 2 RATS AND LOVE THEM I AM A BIG FAN OF YOUR RATS AND A BIG FAN OF YOU TOO SO GOOD VIDEOS PLZ SEND MESSAGE TO ME THANKS BUT I DONT HAVE ANY VIDEOS RIGHT BUT WILL SOON THANKS SEND A MESSAGE SAYING YOU GOT IT THANKS

Um, someone needs to give this person a chill pill. I'm a little creeped out. I don't think I'll reply. It sounds like they're as obsessed with me as they are with my rats. I once had someone on YouTube tell me they liked the sound of my voice. Is it just me or does that seem odd?

Anyway, it's raining. I'm sleepy, but I doubt I'll be able to sleep for awhile. Think I'll spend a little more time online and then read my novel. Oh, and feed the rats, of course!

Reaction

So, instead of reading my novel so much lately I've been reading Rayne's blog. It makes me feel better because Rayne is one of those 'artistic types' like me, but also a list-making hard worker obsessed with keeping her habitat clean. And we both have pet rats. Then throw in the similar illnesses and resulting life situation and voila! A kindred spirit. So yeah, it makes me feel not so alone and depressed. Not to mention he blogs are highly entertaining.

So then get this: today, for some reason, my ulcerative colitis is giving me hell (Rayne has Crohn's disease, which is practically the same thing). This makes no sense and I'll tell ya why. About a week ago I got a test done and my doctor said I had a lot of bad bacteria in me and asked if I was, ahem, having soft stools. I said I wasn't, which seemed to confuse him. He put me on some special antibiotics that don't have to be filtered by my liver (because my poor liver can't handle antibiotics anymore) and I'm almost done with the course. So it makes no sense that I would be having symptoms now.

I can only conclude that this is all Rayne's fault and that her Crohn's vibes are wafting over my way through the sacred protal of Blogger. Not to mention we live in the same town.

A message to Rayne: I swear I'm not stalking you. I just have nothing better to do than comment on your blogs from three years ago and ask you about handicap accomidations in Nebraska's zoos.

My Apologies

I apologize for the insane post last night. My sleeping pill started kicking in before I was ready and, instead of putting it off until the next day, like a normal person, I stayed up and let my video continue uploading. Which, obviously, it didn't do in enough time for me to write a coherant blog. So, again, I apologize.

Here again, in order, is the three-part blog:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Yes, I know I look jaundiced and sick but that's because I am. I know I also look very young. Most people say I look around 15. Well, I'm actually going to be 21 on July 9th. My 17-year-old sister is the old-looking one. ;)

The Vlog

Okay, so here's my 3-part blog. It's a tour of my room. Oh golly, I'm trying this on Ambien. I think I'm officially drunk. That doesn't even make sense.

Okay, here's Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3.

I hope ya'll enjoy. You have no idea how many stupid, drunken mistakes I made writing this blog. What was I thinking? Well, it's the pillows for me now.
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...
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*feels like she's speaking to a large crowd* Part 2 is bring slow and will be reposted tomorrow. Please stay tuned.

Ooo...I can fill the fabrics rolling under the keyepand.

"Peas are my favorite," right Rayne?

Yuptime to gooihjtytyhutyhjlknfgetaupawm` df/

thats poetry.

The Chronicles of Becca: The Liver, the Notebook and the Prilosec

Today my liver started to really hurt for the first time in a week or so. I mean, I always feel it (how could I not when it's gotten huge and hard?). Then came the even greater aversion to food than usual. And the more extreme tiredness. And finally came the chills. It's June in Nebraska and I sat outside in winter socks, sweatpants, a t-shirt and a hoodie. In direct sunlight. Lin the rat sat with me for awhile (she gets grouchy if she doesn't get outdoor time with me at least twice a week). Later Oscar the cat came to see me.

Oh, and then later came the shortness of breath. There just isn't room enough for all my organs anymore what with my huge liver and huge cysts on my ovaries.

But even feeling crappy like that do you know what I did? I cleaned two rat cages. I have no idea what I was thinking. Probably some nonsense about being bored and about the boys' litter box overflowing. Anyway, now I'm paying for it. I thought about taking some codine, but I don't know if that interferes with my sleep med. And I need my sleeping pills. Now I'm thinking Tylenol, but that means getting out of bed and walking all the way to the kitchen, which would defeat the purpose of Not Feeling Pain.

So I lay in bed and finished watching The Notebook. Now I don't know if it's because I had really high expectations for it or what, but I didn't think it was all that great. Supposedly even guys cry at this movie, but I didn't get teary eyed even once. And I get teary eyed watching Elf, okay? The only part that was even the least bit touching for me was the last half hour of the film. Maybe after Bella and Edward everything else just seems lukewarm or something (see books by Stephanie Meyer).

One thing I did do today: I made a vlog. Actually three vlogs since the battery on my camera kept running out. I uploaded them to YouTube, but now internets TV is doing maintenance, so I can't access them. Please stand by.

I do have photos from yesterday's photo shoot, though! Check it out.

I also made one of those cool Simpsons things. I think it's a pretty good likeness.

OMG...I just realized. I feel heartburn. Which means I haven't taken my Prilosec. Which means I forgot to put it in my pill case. I did! Wow...It's a miracle I've been able to eat at all. Amazing.

Rambling at 1 AM

So I've been reading some of Rayne's blogs and I've been inspired to post some more here. I post most religiously on my MySpace, but sometimes I don't post all my journals there because, well, too many people would read them and might say nasty things. It's happened before.

I feel bad about what I wrote on June 8th. Today I think I've learned to appreciate my friends more for who they are and all the fun things I can do with them. And I do have things in common with them. We just don't always like the same music or movies.

Anyway, I took some narcotics come 4 AM this morning. Who ovulates for 4 days? I mean honestly. But, my ovaries were killing me. And after 12 hours without narcotics I was in a lot of pain (I can remember to refill my other medications, but not the kind that actually makes people woozy and forgetful. Thank God for 24-hour Walgreens).

I woke up around 7:30 to the sound of a text message from Gina. She wanted to know if she needed to drive us to work or not. I was planning to drive if I wasn't drugged. Not only was it way past my turn to drive, but I wanted to. I missed driving to work and listening to my music on the way. I gave it as long as I could, but I eventually had to tell Gina she had to drive. I was still pretty woozy from narcotics. I was really frustrated, though. Stupid body.

Turns out it was pouring rain, so it was a good thing Gina drove anyway. I had fun at work (babysitting for St. Mark's Northwest two services), but by the time I was done I was about to collapse, as usual. Plus, all the rain had triggered a migraine. Gina and James were going on a little trip to Beatrice and asked if I wanted to come. Darn my stupid body! I was too tired to go. I mean, how often do I get the chance to leave town for anything other than medical tests? Grrr...

At home I couldn't fall into bed just yet. My sister and I had a photo shoot outside (photos to come) so that Dad would have some recent photos of us. It was our last-minute Father's Day present idea. After that I slept for about 4 hours and woke up with my migraine even worse. I took my medication and puttered around online. Eventually I felt better and I went with mom to Target just to get up and do something. Mom took me around to look at some of the craft things, asking if I saw anything I wanted that would keep me occupied. It was really sweet, but I feel like I've spent more than enough of our money this month already on books and sweatpants. Plus, I think I'm going get myself back into writing The Master Painter. And I've only read 3/4 of a novel so far this month. I am so behind on my 6-novels-a-month quota. So all in all, I think I should keep occupied.

I'm also proud to announce that I'll be returning to art class. It's going to do me a world of good, I just know it. My sister has agreed to let me come to her Wednesday class. That way she can drive me when I'm drugged or too tired to be a safe driver.

After Target, mom dropped me off so I could hang out with Gina and we watched a cool show about rats. I've never seen rats boiled alive, skinned, chopped up and deep fried for Chinese food before. That was great... :S But the interview with Debbie Doucommon and the dumbo PEWs were worth it. My ovaries have been twinging all day, but it was worth it to get out and do something.

Gina had some good hanging-out ideas, so maybe I'll get out a little more this week. And she offered to stay with me for part of my time in Omaha. I'm going to be getting my evaluation for a liver transplant the 23rd-25th. It's all sorts of weird tests to see where I should go on the list. And of course they want to know how much I smoke, drink and how many illegal drugs I take...yeah right. As if I even went to high school. My mom has to leave every night to go to rehersal for The Music Man at Pinewood Bowl (she's the music director), but if I'm not up to all those car rides then I'll stay in a hotel.

Now I'm home, and just as I predicted, I'm awake and it's one in the morning. And the baby rats are wrestling and squeaking so loud I doubt I'd be able to sleep much anyway. Sometimes I question my charity in taking Cupcake in...

Golly, I'm babbling and not making any sense. I'm gonna shut up now.

P.S. Here's how I spent my morning. Gina is the one doing the video. I'm the girl with the hat on. No, you don't need to watch the whole video.

True Love

Does everyone in the world feel like they’re trying to reach some higher purpose? Or is it just me? Does everyone kneel on the floors of their lives, picking up puzzle pieces, never pausing from the hope (that is almost surety) that they will all fit together?

I’ve always been honest, almost to a fault. I would say that my strongest trait is honesty. I am honest with others, but I am blatantly honest with myself. I’m naturally a reflective person and I make myself answer my toughest questions. But I digress…

What I’m trying to get at is that I think I understand what I want most to experience in this word. What I’m striving for.

I want to find true love.

All spiritual endeavors aside, of course. All of the simple beauty I see in the world, all of the rich experiences, now appear to me to be wrapped up in the package of true love. But I’ve never experienced true love. For a real person, anyway…

The simple life of comfortable hours in bed, kisses, the smell of soap, eat breakfast whenever the hell we get around to it and walking in the creation of God or city. The blue jeans and tapping feet, the telling of secrets and the appreciation of quirks. The adventure, the emotions. Am I describing a honeymoon?

I want it all so much. Sometimes I feel like my growth as a person has halted and I can’t go any further until something happens. I kinda feel like that now. I want the thing that happens to be true love. But I’ve talked to God and put it all in His hands because I don’t believe that I can have true love without God’s help. Duh.

I just want something to happen. Every day is the same, with the same limitations. I feel like a prisoner in my body. My desire to do something keeping hitting this brick wall once I realize I can’t physically do it. And so I lose interest or lust after it. And I shy away from getting too involved with any one thing (guess that’s what church does to ya after awhile). Groups on the internet and what not just don’t work for me. My interests, my life, are too multi-faceted for me to into any one thing.

Maybe I just need to start writing again or something. But I still want true love. Gosh, so I sound like a Disney
princess when I say that?

Sometimes I lay awake at night thinking of my dream with the curly-haired guy. He loved me. I remember the way his hair felt on my skin, the way he smelled, the way his lips felt on my fingers and the feel of his arm around me. Most of all I remember the way he looked at me.

Sleeping with boys

4 AM

My insomnia has been really bad lately. Can’t take anymore sleeping pills or else I won’t be able to work this morning. I tried working with sleeping pills in my system last Sunday. It didn’t work out so great.
Lately it’s been hard for me to spend much time in public or with my friends. I find conversation exhausting for one thing, especially since most of my friends have little in common with me. Thus, I always come across as pessimistic, grouchy and sarcastic. At least, I think I do. I’m not my happy-go-lucky self, anyway.
Secondly, it hurts too much. When I’m out in public I am watching exactly what I can’t have: close friends or a boyfriend (or both) who kind of understand me and want to have fun the way I want to have fun. It’s so selfish. Why can’t I just appreciate the loyal friends that I have? I should have realized that nothing is ever like the movies I watch or the novels I read. Maybe afterwards, looking back, my social life seems good. But I can never seem to appreciate things in the moment.

Watching boys is so hard. I’m just so starved in this sickly seclusion. I want some kind of male friend, romantic or not, who gets me, at least a little. Who will stand by me. And I have great guy friends who will stick by me. All two of them. But they don’t really know me. I think they’ve tried to understand, but I’m somehow beyond their ken.

It all hurts so much.

And I feel selfish at the same time. Isn’t what I have good enough? Isn’t God good enough?

In bed tonight (or rather, last night) after an evening of dinner, a movie and Barnes and Noble with James and Gina, I thought of the boyfriend from the dream I had last week. I can still feel what it felt like to have his soft hair on my face, to feel his fingers around mine, staunching that weird wound I had.

My insomnia is such that I’m very sleepy, but I fall only part way asleep (if at all). In my dreams I’m still a half-asleep zombie. In my dream I was in the wet grass; it was flooding with water. I dragged my tired body through the spongy puddles to the road. Despite my tiredness, I forced myself to stand up and run through the rain. I leaped into each black puddle I could, hoping to splash up some sense of meaning, of joy. I found part of an abandoned school and slept there for a time. I got up and the 24-hour neon fast food counter inside blinked at me. I recognized the boy working. Why must I be incapacitated by sleepiness when I could be talking with him? I looked a mess and my mouth was hanging open. I stumbled around for awhile before falling asleep on the stairs next to a black boy who was trying to kiss me.

I think I must be the most pathetic person alive. It’s hard knowing that nothing will change as long as I’m too sick for anything new.