the cheating curve

i wanted to write about how the cystoscopy went this week but i'm actually tired about writing about how terrible my health is and how there aren't any answers for me. the good news is that everything came back normal and they took another urine sample. they put me on 3 days of a new antibiotic to prevent any new infection from occurring and to kill off whatever infection remained.

in the meantime, i'm still waiting for complete feeling and mobility of my left leg and foot to come back entirely and not feel like constant pins and needles. i don't know why it ended up happening this way, but i am not impressed.

great. now let's go on to what is currently keeping me awake:

infidelity.

no, i'm not in a relationship. but i remember when i was. i remember when i was some dude's girlfriend, and i almost want to use that term loosely, since there was never a distinct indication of the time we seemed to go from coworkers to friends to out one night to walking me home to in my bed to seeing each other to wait, what, i'm now your girlfriend to uhhh i don't know how i feel about this to god only knows what.

and 3 months later, that's what it was. i was officially a girlfriend because i was told. i didn't have an opinion in the matter. and i guess you can say that's likely when it all started to go downhill and i realized we were totally wrong for each other. i started wandering off. i started hanging out with dudes where i knew something would happen, because it always did.

and right around this time, this dude, who i was the apparent girlfriend of, and we had been together for four months, decided to tell me that he was in love with me.

me. 
he was in love with me.

you want a sure way to ruin everything? tell a commitaphobe 4 months into barely dating that you're in love with her. yeah, see how that goes.

i always had a sneaking suspicion that he was beginning to know what i was up to some nights when i went out. i was young. i wanted to go out and see my friends. he was a homebody. he wanted to see his friends. i hated his friends. i hated his family. i hated being with him. i hated how every other dude in my life made me feel better about myself - even if there wasn't anything between us at the time. i hated knowing that he told me he loved me and i didn't say anything back. and never did. i hated knowing that i was going to have to break up with him. but i couldn't. i was stubborn and he was in love. i knew he was the one that would have to break up with me in order for this to work out in my favour.

so, i started hanging out more with my friends. and he started hanging out more with some of his new friends. one of his classmates. a girl. a girl who was married and old and "ugly" - his words. he told me she was not his type. but i'm not even sure he knew who his type was. they would do lots of things together. and when time came for us to do the long distance thing, she brought him to see a jays game once and then i met up with them. it just seemed odd that this married woman was hanging out with this 22 year old dude. but as i was looking for a way out, i didn't care.

more months passed and then i got a text from him saying that some girl at a party kissed him. well, hey! here's my way out! except, fuck that. i knew i was better than breaking up with him over text. so, i let it slide. and kept doing what i was doing. i wasn't sleeping around but just keeping my options open. a few weeks later, i came home and was making every excuse not to see him. eventually, he was fed up and broke up with me through a text message. really, dude? uh, okay. you do that then. he obviously took it a lot harder than me (as they.. always tend to do.. i'm just heartless or something) and had to unfriend me on facebook and all that.

and from time to time, i'd lurk a profile or two. guess who he's dating now? that married girl. she might even still be married. i don't fucking know or care. it's just bizarre. and well, at least i know now that i had a right to be suspicious of them in the first place.

i say all of this because in the last year or so, i've been propositioned on more than one occasion to get with married/committed dudes. all with psycho wives/girlfriends. talking to them is one thing. sexting is another. but i don't see what i'm doing or what they're doing as wrong or cheating. it was only when i physically kissed other dudes - that was my line drawn on the cheating curve. yes, i talked. yes, i flirted. yes, i wanted it all. but until there was something physical, i was convinced i was never in the wrong. and currently. this is sort of how i continue to feel about the opportunities i'm presented with.

some have been going on for a year. some come and go in monthly intervals or when i'm mostly just feeling down. some i've even turned down because i don't want to get involved. i'm all for open marriages and open relationships. i'm all for primary partners and polygamy. i've been there. i've done that. and actually, it's kind of nice. gone are the days when one person can give the other what they need. but any of the ones i've been involved with have yet to become physical. in fact, it gets a little hard to believe when a much older, married man, tries to explain to me how much he cares for me. that isn't what i signed up for. and it doesn't necessarily make me feel better about myself when a sketchy, old, married man with kids is saying these things to me.

i'm not a naive girl. and it's because i tend to get myself into these situations over and over again that i know when and how to get out of them. participating in someone else's infidelity is not my fault.

i only wish i knew that earlier.

a hospital visit i won't soon forget

i was supposed to have that cystoscopy on thursday. i was terrified.

i remained cautiously optimistic in the fact that i was told they would give me a sedative or anaesthetic to help me relax. i was told it would be no more invasive than a pap smear. and well, that's fine, but i've never had one of those either. needless to say, i was pretty damn nervous to have my who-ha exposed and on display for the first time.

then, they told me i wasn't able to have a sedative or anaesthetic. they told me they don't do that. uhh, wait a minute. the secretary who booked my appointment said i could have drugs if i wanted them. and now you're telling me i can't? okay. well. uhm. let's give it a shot then. the nurse told me i wouldn't be able to feel much and it would be "just a pinch" - i'm a little relieved until she starts prepping me.

HELLO LADY?! THAT IS NOT A PINCH. THAT FEELS LIKE YOU'RE RIPPING APART MY FUCKING VAGINA DEAR GOD STOP.  i was crying and yelling and screaming. and all they had done was put some freezing gel on me.

yeah, so, that didn't go well. they didn't even try to go through with the procedure. and that's for the best. after i had regained my composure a bit, i talked to the urologist who ordered me some anaesthetic for next time and set up another appointment for next wednesday.

to get this anaesthetic, i had to go see a doctor at the walk-in clinic and get him to examine me, make sure i'm healthy, and sign off on the form to knock me out. guess who the doctor is? the one i fucking can't stand. the one who put me on the antibiotic that gave me c diff. the one that belittles me every chance he gets.

i calmly and politely discussed with him why i'm getting the cystoscopy and the instructions i was given to tell the doctor to ensure all the paperwork goes through. he then passively-aggressively mentions that i need to stop telling him how to do his job. WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?! this is MY body. this is what the UROLOGIST PERFORMING THE PROCEDURE WANTS AND IT'S DIFFERENT THAN THE NORMAL FORMS YOU HAVE TO FILL OUT, ASSHOLE.

he quickly runs through my physical, asking me when was the last time i had a physical done. i don't remember. he laughs. he then asks if my weight and height on the form are accurate, even though i had just estimated. again, he laughs inappropriately and i ask if i could weigh myself. without mentioning that he's finished examining me, he goes to leave the room. i ask if i'm supposed to bring all of my stuff and if we're done. he says "yes, we're done here" - DUDE. TELL ME THAT THEN. DON'T WANDER OFF IN A HUFF. YOU'RE A FUCKING DOCTOR. COMMUNICATE WITH ME.

i want to mention that when i saw this doctor days before i was hospitalized the second time and when he had prescribed me the second antibiotic, he asked me if i had sex in the last few months. i told him no, because i haven't. and that's the story i've been telling every doctor i had met over the past couple months. why would i lie? well, for some reason, this doctor seemed convinced i was lying to him and again, laughed at me, almost implying that i was a whore.

a nurse weighs me and i weigh in at 118 pounds. the doctor then tells me that i was "close" as i had written down 120 on the form. he either thought i was fatter than 120 or skinnier than 120... and it's probably the fatter one, knowing this guy. even the secretary at the urologist's office looked at me, as i was completely bundled up for the cold weather and said, "you look like you're about 110 and much taller than 5'6" 

i just want to get this test over with finally so they can tell me why i keep getting these recurring infections for no reason. wednesday needs to get here faster.

i forget what it feels like to be healthy

i'm still not 100% as we've now hit the fourth month of being sick.

i had an appointment with a toronto urologist on tuesday after i finished the remaining c diff antibiotics friday night. i never want to see, taste, or take another pill ever again. and i never want to wake up with a new side effect ever again.

think of the absolute worst hangover you've had in your life. the nausea. the body aches. the headache. then multiply it by about 1000 and there you have how i felt for 5 days. constant, 24 hour nausea. what's worse is that i had to take the antibiotics with food or else it would be bad. ever tried eating when you're nauseous as fuck? it's not good.

i told the toronto urologist about all of my problems and all he could really tell me is that it sounds like i've just had an extremely unlucky set of events in the past four months. his sympathy was greatly appreciated once he put it into perspective. and here, i thought it was just me. he scheduled me for a cystoscopy for next week. they're gonna look inside my bladder and see if there's something in there causing the infections.

before any of this started, i never had a dream that involved doctors, hospitals, or me being sick. a few days before i was hospitalized back in september, i had a dream that i was seeing a doctor who told me i had a "self inflicted STD" - whatever that means. it's stuck with me, even though it didn't make any sense. i hadn't been with anyone and well, let's be honest, hadn't really helped myself out much either.

before i met with the toronto urologist, i had a dream i was back in the hospital undergoing some kind of a procedure for an "embolism" - but they were sticking needles in my tummy. again, this is a dream that's stuck with me because my subconscious seems to know when something is wrong with me before my body does.

and although i'm back on the job hunt in the most minimal way and back to having stupid, waste of my time interviews (like the ones i had yesterday, amongst the other five hundred people looking to score similar positions by meeting with an employer for 5 minutes), i just want to be better before i get out there again.

there's no telling when i'm actually going to feel 100%, as i kind of forget what that feels like. it has been over four months since i've felt healthy.

i'll just continue to take this one day at a time.