Fused Flaps

If you haven’t read the drama as it unfolds it might be better to start reading here or you might not want to read it at all, I certainly wouldn’t.

Hey, it’s 5 am.  Actually I woke up at 2:30 which is way too damn early.  When this happens I usually read or fuck around on Facebook, I’ve done that and now I’m writing this, fully aware that the topic is very dull.  So I’ll tell you what caused me to wake so early today. Don’t feel bad if you seek out more interesting reading about now, I certainly understand.

If you’re still here lets begin. I have this rare heart valve problem called rheumatic mitral valve stenosis and sometimes the symptoms wake me up.  At some point in my life I had rheumatic fever or just a fever so high that it damaged my valve.  The stenosis is a narrowing of the valve which essentially means the flaps have partially fused together. I have symptoms but my heart is sort of OK otherwise and I’ve been visiting the cardiologist since it was diagnosed.  He was agog that I had this problem, apparently it’s not seen much anymore, I suppose medical science has improved and it’s easier to break high fevers or there’s some super antibiotic, or maybe there’s a vaccine for rheumatic fever, I could find out but I just don’t care enough. If you really want to know you’ll have to research that for yourself. For the first couple of years when I was in for my appointment he would grab any of the medical personnel around and say, “look at this, you just don’t see this anymore”.  He’s only had one other case of it in 25 years.  I sound like an old lady discussing all my ailments trying to one-up her friends, but I’m not going to stop.  So the stenosis constricts the blood flow into my lungs making it difficult to push the fluid out of my body – which is virtually congestive heart failure. I take a drug that makes you pee a lot and it helps in pushing the fluid off.  So sometimes if it hasn’t done it’s job I wake up with a lot of fluid in my lungs, gurgling, having a difficult time breathing, and coughing. I had a mild case of this gurgly-coughy condition which woke me up. The remedy for the gurgly-coughy thing is to take the pee drug and wait for it to work.  I end up reading or fucking around on facebook or like now writing this sad tale of woe as I wait to pee 100 times.  Generally, it’s managed pretty well by the drug but if I eat salty food (thanks a lot Tostitos at 11:pm) it can’t take care of the load. So, if I don’t do stupid shit like eating a bunch of salty food it doesn’t happen that often. There are other situations that cause these symptoms but how much more of this agony can you take?

Which circles around to depression once again, I’m an emotional eater, I eat when I’m sad, I eat when I’m happy, food is my reward for an achievement or to comfort me when I’m down. Basically, I can eat all the fucking time. There are some animals that can eat themselves literally to death, luckily, I haven’t reached that stage of idiocy yet. Or you can take too big of serving as the  python that ate the crocodile and then exploded. I’m doing similar things only it’s going to be a long and pitiful death, exploding sounds like a better option.  Maybe there’s some emotional hole I’m trying to fill, blah, blah, blah.  The therapist I have now, said “maybe that’s not your problem and there are certainly other problems more pressing”. Thank God, I don’t want to search my feelings and discover that Darth Vader is my father. I know the right food choices to make, I’ve studied it for years.  I used to have periods when I could keep it at bay, my will was stronger, and I was much smaller.  I suspect now that those periods were times that my depression was less severe. To get to the point, depression makes you not give a shit and zaps any energy you have to do anything, much less make an effort to make the right food choices. A DingDong is a tastier snack than an apple on any given day (in my opinion) but if I’m in my right mind I can choose the apple and be perfectly happy. Plus if you eat right the DingDongs begin to get less appealing. But if you start on the junk food road you’re like an alcoholic or drug addict. You easily slip back into it and go on a bender.  I’ve been on a 20 year bender. This goes up and down along with the emotional rollercoaster you’re on when the fucking dark cloud of doom sucks you in. I truly believe there are a lot of people out there with weight issues that have corresponding mental issues, although that’s probably not news to anyone.

I wish I could be more amusing, many of the other blogs about depression are hilarious.  I just haven’t been feeling the fun. I believe this isn’t really a problem though, this blog got 2 hits yesterday so I’m safe from boring anyone to death.

Here’s an image from another cat book you can buy. Downton Tabby


This is another bonanza of ridiculousness.


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