I'd rather be employed.

Getting laid off or fired is never an easy thing for anyone to deal with, especially when you're let go for reasons you can't control. I was "let go" from work today because of my illness -- that's right, you read it correct. Today has been a really shit day overall.

For one, my cousin Matt died last week, and his viewing/funeral were today. It was terrible. I'm beside myself that he's gone; to make it worse, the viewing was held in the same funeral parlor.. the same ROOM that my dad's was in three years ago this August. It brought back a lot of memories I didn't need. I saw my family (dad's side, that is), and there were a lot of hugs and a few laughs sharing good times together. My family isn't your "average" family. We're Native American; bikers and some would consider pinies (look up the term Jersey Piney, you'll see what I mean). My grandmother (dad's mom) and I have never gotten along. I'm not really quite sure what her malfunction is, and I don't think I'll ever know. When I was little, and I mean real little, we were okay. I loved my grandma (I still do, she's just so fucking ignorant), but after I turned 5 or 6, she turned into this completely different beast. To end a long story short, she never liked my mom, my dad never turned out the way she would have liked him to (he was a mechanic, a biker, and a good guy.. not a church-going, god-fearing christian), and because of all that, I'm a piece of shit by association. Fuck it, and fuck her. My cousins are her pride and joy, and she can have them. My family is dysfunctional, and I'm done trying to fix it. I wasn't even going to speak to her at the viewing today -- I didn't want to cause drama since it was inappropriate, but I did talk to her out of respect (and for my Aunt Maggie, who knows how much of a dick my Grama Vi is). I said hello to her, and she looked at me like I had four heads. Her little walker wheels squeaked and squealed as she tried to go past me, and my Aunt Maggie stopped her and nudged her to talk to me. I said it was nice to see her, yadda yadda yadda, and gave her a hug. She said I didn't look well, and I told her about my PTC, and that I have been super sick all weekend (had a great episode yesterday that I'll go into later on). She looks at me, squints her eyes, and blames my septum piercing (nose ring) for it. She got really nasty about it, and my Aunt Maggie got a real sharp tone in her voice and said, "it's not that, Vi, it's her brain."

This is true.

After that, I just shook my head and left the room. I even tried to introduce her to Vinnie, but she had no interest. You have to understand, my grandma is an asshole. She likes to cause drama, talk about people, and always pick out everyone's flaws and never pay mind to her own. If she doesn't like one thing about you, you're shit to her. Vinnie has long black hair, and a beard/goatee/mustache thing. He wears black clothing and big gnarly Viking jewelry. She doesn't like him. But fuck her, I do.

I went outside with Vinnie in tow, and met up with my mom. Grandma and her horrendous "boyfriend" wheeled by and didn't say a word. Good -- go back to Delaware.

After that, I attempted to eat some lunch with V and my mom, and wasn't able to keep much of it down. I laid down the rest of the afternoon. Around 5pm, I got a phone call from the HR department at my job. Well, former job. I've been on temp. disability for a little while due to the illness (PTC), and the doctors finally diagnosing me with what's wrong. I've been through a battery of tests the past month, and I've got the bruises and IV holes to prove it. HR told me last week (since I was due to come back today) if there were any problems and the doctor wanted me out longer, it would be no big deal and all they would require would be a note to extend the disability. Fine. I called at around 6am today and left the HR manager a voicemail, explaining that I'm seeing the neurologist again, he's not happy with how I'm progressing, and I will have to be out longer, and that I had no problem providing them with the proper documentation.

Well. The day goes by and I get this call out of nowhere. I asked if I was "laid off" or "fired", and all I was told was, "because of your illness and inability to work, we can no longer hold your position". GREAT. I was on FMLA, temp. disability, how the fuck is it legal for them to can me like this?! And now, my insurance will run out this Friday, so I'm fucked. I'm totally fucked.

I have had the headache from hell since Friday (it started to go away Friday morning, but came back with a vengance), and have had the shittiest weekend, now this?

Yesterday (Sunday), I woke up at oh, 5am with a SCREAMING headache. The kind I get and can't even see with. I cried, I took numerous scalding-hot showers, nothing. Then I looked over at the new box of Treximet my doctor prescribed. The Relpax I was taking stopped working, so he called this in for me. Worth a shot. I was a bit hesitant about taking it, since Imitrex makes me vomit violently (and those meds are all in the same family), but I was desperate for the pain to stop so I popped a big blue pill into my mouth and laid there. Not 30 minutes later, I was throwing up like I've never thrown up before into the toilet. Lovely. I crawled back into bed and was there most of the day.

My Aunt Betty has been in from Michigan the past four days for a family thing, and I wanted to see her and her husband before they left, no matter how sick I was. The hotel they stayed at was right up the street, so I got myself together as much as possible and me, Vinnie, and mom piled into the car to meet up with them for dinner. I, of course, didn't eat, but enjoyed the company and iced tea I slowly sipped. We went back to their hotel and were going to just hang out for a bit. When we were leaving the restaurant, I started to feel really.... strange. The strange feeling I've been having the past few weeks as my headaches have gotten worse. My head was pounding, I was slurring my speech, and having serious dizzy spells. Everyone said I should go home and lay down, but stubborn ass me said no. We went to the hotel.

The people there must have thought I was wasted -- Vin was holding my hand, helping me walk to the elevator and up to the room. While there, I don't remember a whole lot of what was going on (I tend to have memory issues while having an episode). I know that I had a nosebleed, and was really messed up. We went home, and I laid down. I couldn't eat any dinner, only a few strands of pasta mom made me and I booted that back up into the toilet about an hour later. Nice, huh?


Needless to say, this has been a pretty fucked up weekend, and I'm beyond bummed. The idea of a shunt is looking better and better if it makes me live a more normal life. I can't take this sick all the time bullshit anymore, and I know it weighs heavily on those around me. I'll keep updating this as much as I can, I guess, since I'll have a whoooooole lotta time on my hands, now..

The funny thing about blogs is...

I admit it: I'm a journal* addict.

I have created so many of these things over the years, I wish I could just compile them into one dysfunctional trip through my life thus-far. I know, I know, I could always go and copy from one to another, but I'm honestly just too damn lazy. So here we are -- let's just start fresh with a brand new one!

I suppose the cliche introduction is in need for those who don't know me and are reading this (if anyone is!). My name is Carrie, and I'm a mid-twenties woman living in New Jersey. I love hockey (NJ Devils hockey, that is. Everyone else sucks), hot rods, Harleys, animals, gardening, and anything crafty. I'm covered in tattoos and piercings, which makes it even more fun to sit with my knitting club and have all the little old ladies staring at me like I'm the spawn of Satan (am I?).

I'm chock full of health problems, which always makes for a good laugh here and there. (But seriously, I'm fucked up.)

I write, and for some reason never finish anything. I guess my brain works faster than my fingers can move. I started a novel a few years ago, and almost have it done. I started a new one about a month ago. See? Never finish. Who knows, though, I might actually keep up with this one. I'll keep you posted!

I'm in love with the most amazing man in the world, Vince. He's really my guardian angel, I swear. He's wonderful in every way; I could really ramble on about him for hours, but I'll save you reading the ooey-gooey mushy stuff. Let's just keep it at.. he's a huge part of my life, and even despite the fact he's a NY Rangers fan (blech!), he has my heart and no one could ever squeeze it as tight as he does. I'll write about him a lot, don't you worry there ;)

I've inadvertently isolated myself from most of my friends and family. I don't mean to be a hermit, but as stated earlier, my health concerns have had me feeling pretty down lately. I was diagnosed last week with PTC, otherwise known as Psuedotumor Cerebri. That pretty much means I have too much pressure in my spinal fluid, and it's pressing on my brain and other vital areas of my spinal column. It's nasty, and I won't bore you with details (unless you ask?), but it's really painful, and makes me suffer with HORRIBLE, horrible, horrible marathon migraines, audio/visual disturbances, and a slew of other not-so-nice problems. I'm on medication, and if it doesn't work, I'll have to go for a bunch of spinal taps, and perhaps even surgery to get a shunt put into my brain (yikes). But for now, I'm taking it day by day, as well as I can..

I love my [real] friends more than life itself, really, but I hardly get to see them. Something always gets in the way. My best friend moved out to California (lucky girl), and I don't see her for obvious reasons. I have other friends sprinkled across the US and Europe, and it just really blows that they aren't closer, or have a schedule that doesn't allow us to get together. I could use a real hug sometimes. I have plenty of people who claim to be my friend, but would throw me to the wolves faster than you can say fake. I'm not in highschool; I don't have time for idiot people who do stupid things. It's blunt, but true. I'm a grown woman, and eventhough I may be one of the biggest goofballs on the planet, I don't like drama and childish behavior. I don't go "clubbing", I don't drink to excess, I don't do drugs.. damn, I guess I see why they don't like me -- I'm no fun! ...I'm kidding, I'm loads of fun, really (and quite sarcastic. It's a fluent second language to me).

I'm not quite sure exactly why I started this journal -- perhaps just to vent, since I don't talk to anyone about my personal issues, really. God help whoever reads this, or takes the time to go through the whole thing... I ramble.. A LOT. ;)

On a final note, I hate the Philadelphia Flyers (and their fans). You all suck. Goodnight.

*I abhor the term "blog". I just can't bring myself to say it in a serious manor. Makes me think of 'frog', then I start thinking about warts, and some girls I went to high school with who are probably battling with some warts of their own.. heh heh.