Come On, Summer, Let’s Eat Crow Together!

Oh, hey gals. What’s happening? I know I’ve been super flaky this summer about blogging, and a few of you have been asking me what’s been going on since the last post, so I’m going to take this post to clear up why I’m as flaky as…I have no clean metaphor here. Be sure to add your own.

For those of you who know me, you know I’ve been a complete basket case this summer. This is new considering usually I’m just half a fruit loop. I passed a full fruit loop about a month and a half ago when my life got crazy. I apologize to any of you who have had to deal with me this summer, and I’ve already repeatedly ate crow and apologized to one person numerous times, but I really am sorry that I’m this crazy, because I’m not normally like this. I knew when I started to feel better around the end of April that this summer was going to explode into a menagerie of trying to catch up on the things I have gotten behind on in the last five years of being sick. But I was feeling better, so no big deal, right? Bring it on summer!

You all see where this is going, don’t you?

For one, my arm never properly healed. In case I didn’t recant the arm saga of 2012 because, well, my arm was hurting too badly to do so, let me share that with you know. A few months into the year, my arm swelled up for absolutely no reason and I could barely move it. It took a few doctors to figure out the problem, my arm was put in a splint, and that should have been the end of it. Except the doctor gave me the wrong size splint, I had to get a new one, the new one broke in less than a week, and the doctors office refused to give me a new one. I needed a prescription for another one because of the type of splint it was, and he wouldn’t write it, so after a ton of hassle I got a new one from an emergency medical center, long story short. Now, I had asked the splint debacle doctor if I could wear a splint without causing a blood clot because of my blood disorder before I even put the splint on. He said yes. He lied. My arm ended up worse off after the splint, but because of my blood disorder I couldn’t wear another one, and it wasn’t healing. I come to find out yesterday that the ligament is messed up in my arm now, but we don’t know if it’s because of the original issue being treated improperly, or if it was treated properly but my blood disorder caused issues, stressed the arm, and bye, bye good ligament. Either way, now my arm looks like this.

That’s okay. No big deal. It’s just an arm, and it’s even patriotic and is feeling very Olympic today. (Bonus points for those of you who know what movie that quote came from.) And look, I can type and such. The athletic endurance tape seems to be holding my arm okay, but who knows how long I’ll have to wear it for. It’s just that I didn’t need to spend two months arguing with my arm, especially when the original cause for the issue with my arm, as it was later discovered, was a pinched nerve in my back, but by the time we figured that out the arm had a legitimate issue. I also have to get it double checked by my autoimmune doctor to make sure this isn’t an autoimmune or arthritic issue on top of it. Yep, my life is kind of like that to me. And no, the irony of me having to wear athletic endurance tape is not lost on me.

Sneaking up on me for the win has also been this random side pain that waited until right at the beginning of June to pounce on me and be all, boo-ya! I’ve been all over the place trying to figure this out. My doctor thought it was my gallbladder. I had testing done. I went to a surgeon expecting to have it removed. I had more testing done. The surgeon decided that it stays, at least for the time being. So now I have two other appointments so that more people can poke at me and try to figure out why this pain is debilitating enough that I had to buy more air conditioners just to be in my house without getting sick, because although the pain is there without the heat, the heat makes it intolerable. I have a feeling this is going to lead to procedures and still surgery. Wish me luck?

Sadly, it’s not the heat that will kill you, it’s the humidity, which my blood disorder has been hating on lately. This summer has been painful, and quite frankly, I really don’t have time for it. Because I’ve been in pain, I’m sleeping stupid, so I’m half sleeping at night, and then napping during the day. I feel like I would fit in at the retirement home. Plus, I got bit by something, but no one knows what and why it’s not healing, so I had a blood panel done to make sure I don’t have some sort of infection. The results aren’t back yet. Are you all beginning to see why I’ve been so gosh darn cranky though? And that’s just the medical stuff.

I jam packed my summer with paranormal cases stupidly thinking my body was going to cooperate. I piled them on. I ended up canceling half of them, because I just can’t do it. Every time I canceled one, I got a new one unexpectedly. In fact, I spent all day Sunday running around on three different unexpected cases. I just can’t go anywhere without running into dead people, I’m telling you what. Who says Ghost Whisperer is just a TV show? Myself and Amy Allan would beg to differ. (Love her!)

On top of that, I volunteer for the wildlife center, which I used to only do once a week, but now it’s twice a week because of the amount of rescues we’ve been getting in. Plus I’ve also been doing rescues. In fact, look at this cute little duck I rescued the other day. I’m going to ask everyone to say a prayer for Baby Henry, of whom I did not name, even if you’re not the praying type. He’s only a few days old, but was somehow separated from his mommy and found running around in a gas station parking lot on a main road. Being so young, he may not make it, and I will be heartbroken and devastated if he doesn’t. I’m obsessed with baby ducks like the eHarmony cat lady is obsessed with cats (Okay, I don’t sob and such over them, but you get the picture.), and am very attached to this little rescue. How could you not be? Just look at all the cutes it possesses. When it’s that cute, it’s not longer just cute, but has cutes.

I’ve also been helping out the historical society this summer with their ongoing paranormal issues, just as I’ve been doing for the last year. This year has been insane, and things at the site have drastically changed. Another group of investigators had to be called in, and I now have sixteen hours of logging evidence that needs done, and has needed done, but no time to do it. (I genuinely need an assistant. I take all cases pro bono, though, and everyone wants paid.) I feel like I’m losing my mind, because I’m sincerely concerned about the one girl getting injured at the site. This isn’t something that’s going to be solved quickly, but desperately needs to be. If I were well, I’d have more time to devote to there, but I can only do what I can do and find I need to sit a lot, which is also an issue with the wildlife center. Thank God they’re both understanding of my medical issues. Of course, I guess that’s also why it’s called volunteering.

Some of you are also aware that I need to move so that I don’t lose my insurance. I already had one false start moving, where the complex wouldn’t accept my medical dog, otherwise known as the awesome Greta Hayley. Now I have to find somewhere else to live. I’m having issues with my insurance left and right because I’m still living at home, and have spent more than my fair share of time on the phone trying to figure out what’s going on. Contrary to what they think, it’s not that easy to just pick up and move. You have to find a place, be able to afford it, pack your stuff, get insurance, the list goes on.

I feel like I lost my head weeks ago and am still trying to find it. However, hopefully you can all understand why I’ve been a full fruit loop of a basket case. It’s nothing against any of you guys, it’s just that my life has never been this crazy, and I still have a bunch of appointments coming up, and things just keep rolling in. I’m beginning to become afraid that the summer is just going to eat me alive, or at least that’s what I would think if I were that dramatic, but I’m not. Hopefully things will slow down for me soon so I don’t end up in a straight jacket, mumbling things about summer being a murderer and drooling applesauce everywhere. There’s a picture for you.

For those of you who are wondering what happened with the whole debacle in the last post, please remember I was also dealing with that on top of all of this. You all know me well enough to know feelings are not something I do…at all. Forget doing them well. I did have an online dating profile. I don’t now. I took it down. I was getting an insane amount of emails, and most of the guys legitimately seemed like decent guys, but it wasn’t who I am or what I wanted. I tried talking to some of the guys, but there was nothing there for me, no connection. But I did learn I was demisexual, so I guess that’s a plus, right? (What? I always get personal on here. You all know me. I like being honest.)

As far as the guy I liked, I told him how I felt. My friend who has been helping me through this, who is also his friend, and myself were shocked when he didn’t completely shut down and stop answering my texts when I told him. We figured it would either be too late or shut him down completely. I don’t know what will happen between us, and it may end up being nothing, but now he knows how I feel and we’ll sort it out when he gets back. I learned something from that, too. If you have feelings for someone, just tell them. It’s not the end of the world if they don’t feel the same way. No one died, no one got hurt, the world is still spinning on the same axis. At worst, they don’t feel the same way, then you have to make a decision as to if you still want to be friends with them or not, but life will go on. If you tell someone, you might be able to fix the issue, but if you keep it to yourself, you’re going to get nowhere but frustrated. So was all of this worth it to learn all of these things, though extremely stressful? Yes, it was.

Proof That Being Innappropriate Isn’t Just For the Living

Hello my fine, non feathered friends. Unless there’s a bird reading this. In that case, I’m sorry for stereotyping my readers and being a jerk.

I am finally getting back around to being able to type, and be online, and do things that need to be done. I’m officially and genuinely shocked at the amount of emails and internet related things I’ve had to do, and my arm still isn’t sure how it feels about doing anything on the computer in long stints. It seems okay being minimally useful, though, so I’m going with it. I have so many fun little stories to tell you all, but I’ll start with the most recent one.

For those of you who are new to this blog and don’t know me, I’m a psychic medium. In doing this, I also work with the Historical Society, who do their research and pull records on a site to verify what I’ve said while working with them on a case. After nearly a year, they still continue to work with me, and I’m honored. I’ve never said I wasn’t crazy, but if I am, I have proof that I’m crazy, but right about what I pick up. It’s a very complex issue. I never ask anyone to believe me and some people will think I’m at least half a fruit loop, but I believe everyone is entitled to and should have their own beliefs and opinions. I don’t blame you stop reading now. For those who do believe, thank you for continuing to read this. I promise this is funny.

Part of being a psychic medium is understanding that spirits will openly waltz in and out of all rooms of my home, my life, and anything I’m doing (This does not exclude showering.) to get my attention. Some I can cross over immediately, some take awhile longer, and others are essentially what are known as spirit guides. They guide me and help me along with cases, giving me information when the offending spirit I am working a case around won’t help me or give me information for a variety of reasons, including that they don’t wish to cross over or leave a space.

That being said, there is a particular spirit that I’ve had for just over a year. She’s called Sarah. Sarah is a bit different from the other spirits I’ve had, and she needs a special, specific kind of help, therefore, though I’ve been actively working her case to help her this entire time, it’s taking awhile longer than any other spirit I’ve had. Sarah is loud, outspoken, says exactly what she thinks (Because, as she’ll tell you, she’s dead and doesn’t have any reason to monitor herself.), and refuses to apologize for it. Because of the specifics of the situation and what helping her entails, it’s been a bit difficult to get my mom to understand what is going on. She has always believed me before, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around Sarah. Yesterday, Sarah decided she wasn’t having any of that at all anymore.

In order to understand this story, you have to understand that my mom is one of those women who is set in her ways, always right, or just generally doesn’t care. She’s pretty much going to do whatever she’s going to do, etiquette and appropriateness be damned. I had mentioned to my mom earlier in the day that Sarah was with us for this particular excursion, she asked me some questions, and seemed to be coming around to Sarah, which was fully unexpected, but I rolled with it. After lunch I had gotten up to use the restroom and came back to find my mom sitting alone at the table with a funny look on her face. I knew something was up, but I decided to sit back down at the table and let it play out.

Not long after I sat down my mom asked me if she should leave five or six dollars as a tip. She never asks me this. She just decides and that’s that. But since she was asking, I told her she should definitely leave at least six for the tipping rate to be appropriate to the price of our meal. She nodded and reached for her purse, still with a funny look on her face. After a few minutes passed, she proceeded to tell me what it was that had her looking so bewildered.

While I was in the restroom, she was deciding on what she wanted to leave for a tip. It was just the two of us, so she was alone at the table and silent. She reached for her purse, deciding she was going to leave a five dollar tip, and as I mentioned before, my mom pretty much does what she wants, appropriate or not. Just as she went to pull out the five dollar bill, she heard a young girl say, “You cheap bitch!” Her first thought was that it was me, but I wasn’t at the table. Her second was that it was someone in a surrounding table, but she was contemplating a tip silently. No one else knew what she was doing. And that’s when it hit her.

She looked me straight in the face and said, “Sarah called me a cheap bitch.”

She doesn’t give me a hard time about Sarah anymore or question her. And this is so right on par with Sarah’s behavior that I didn’t even question it. She has no off button. I’ve been called many a things by Sarah when I’ve not done what she wanted me to do immediately, which includes but is not limited to buying something at the store in the style she likes since she apparently “lives here too” and not paying attention to her because I need to sleep and she likes to talk twenty four seven. Ghosts don’t sleep. But never in my life did I think she’d call my mom a cheap bitch.

My mom left a six dollar tip.