The Obese Ghost

Some things are just too good to be kept secret.  Some things are just too frightening to be revealed.  The following account is both.

It all started when she heard that some people in France had created the world's largest Christmas tree made entirely of dark chocolate.  It is important to understand that while she has always had a sweet spot (snerk) for dark chocolate, the time of the month declared the need for her to devour this famed tree a state of emergency.  We stood facing one another over the bar in the kitchen where she demanded that I take her to France where she would fulfill her newfound dream of devouring the world's largest tree in order to become the world's largest glutton.  Okay, those weren't her exact words, but the meaning was definitely there.  My reponse? 

"If you ate that entire tree I wouldn't be your friend anymore."
"Why not?" she questioned, concerned.
"Because you would be dead."
"We would still be friends," she assured me.  "I would come back and haunt you."
"Haunt me?" I repeated.  "I suppose that would be your Afterlife calling since you would be hauntingly obese!"

Thankfully my husband had already gone upstairs to take a shower so he missed the chaos that followed.  She and I spent the next twenty minutes or so discussing the ins and outs of being an obese ghost.  How it would jiggle along, how it would moan.  FYI it's moan sounded something like a turkey gobble.  We then proceeded to demonstrate what we believed to be the characteristics of the obese ghost.  My eight month old and her eighteen month old stared at us like we were crazy. 

The following is my artist's rendition of our descriptions.

 What started as a couple of bites quickly deteriorates into full on pigging out.

 At some point the human body just can't handle anymore.  Not only did this poor girl's insides explode with brutal force, the resulting shockwaves changed the sign from "Chocolate" to "Christmas".  Okay, maybe I just made a little typo.  Regardless, the carnage was still great.

Enter the obese ghost.

Even in death she is cursed to pursue her obsession.

That was two days ago.  Ever since then one of us will randomly approach the other wearing the persona of the obese ghost.

Dr. Incompetent

It started with an earache.  A stupid little earache that set off a chain of events that I have determined are 2010's way of getting it's last minute digs in before 2011 jumps in.  That irritating little irritation went from an annoyance to multiple daily migraines while keeping me couch bound for the better part of four weeks.
Eventually I realized that no, it wasn't going to go away on it's own and it was time to see the doctor.  Of course my regular doctor had switched practices several months earlier and I hadn't bothered to establish myself anywhere else.  In his growing concern my husband went online to our insurance provider's website and picked through the list until he found a doctor who not only was accepting new patients but who could get me in immediately before another migraine hit and I was unable to leave the house.

Enter Dr. Holland.  For privacy purposes I won't state his first name but I swear his parents should have named him Incompetent.  Incompetent Holland.  This jerk did nothing more than ask me if I could touch my chin to my chest and tell me to take some Advil.  He insisted that the migraines would go away on their own in a couple of days.
Fast forward a "couple of days".  I was still stuck on the sofa and still having migraines almost daily.  My best friend had to come to my house every day to sit with me in case I wasnt able to care for my eight month old son at any point during the day.  I made another appointment and went back to the doctor's office.  This time I saw the nurse practitioner who decided to send me immediately for an MRI.

The MRI was essentially uneventful except for a horrid cramp in my back and my apparent inability to keep from rhyming every thought in my head.
It took the better part of a week to get the results from that test.  And they didn't even offer them, I had to harass them every day for almost a week to get the information.  And when I got it I didn't want it.  The MRI showed a small lesion in my brain.  They told me to go back to the radiologist for a contrast MRI.  When I asked the nurse over the phone if I should be panicking her exact response was "Well, I won't tell you not to worry.".  Um, what? 

I went in for the contrast MRI not really knowing what to expect.  This turned out to be a good thing because had I known I probably would have procrastinated a lot more.  I don't know if I was allergic to the contrast agent or if the tech screwed up but that was the most painful freakin injection EVER.  By that night my arm was swollen the size of a baseball and horribly bruised.
The next day I waited for a call from the doctor but none came.  None came the next day either.  Or the next.  It was about a week before I finally said screw it and went into the office to talk to the nurse practitioner in person.  It was also about this time that the headaches started to go away and the dizziness laid off.

The verdict?  No creepy things in my head.  Yet still no explanation as to why I felt so crummy.  So they sent me for blood work to check out vitamin levels and such.  After my husband verbally assaulted the receptionists at the doctor's office I was told that my vitamin D level was low but still no explanation. 

Two things I learned from this nightmare:
1). Incompetent Holland is getting fired as my doctor.
2). Migraines suck.  But they suck much worse when you have five in one day.

This entry brought to you via my new iPad, my Yule gift from my husband. <3