My Sister's Dog Keeps Shitting On My Floor

Ok, but seriously. This dog pushes his way into my room and shits on my floor for no reason. Maybe he just doesn't like me. But he tries to cuddle with me so he must like me. Right?

I had another doctor appointment today. He's trying to tell me all this ish about how I don't know how to control my asthma (which I have had for about... 19 years of my life. Literally ever since I can remember.) It was my 2nd visit with him. He's one of my newer doctors. He's a fool I tell you, a fool. Maybe I should just find a new primary. Screw you, Dr. Carson!

He also wants me to have a pulmonary function test done. I am over tests and needles. Too bad I will never ever be able to get away from the latter. With the diabeetus and all. Oy.
   Keep in mind that this is the same doctor who ordered a CAT scan done STAT last month because he was 100% sure that I had a pulmonary embolism, AKA blood clots in my lungs.
I think hes a quack who is behind on his yacht payments and doesn't give a shit how he pays them. (Meaning he's ordering bullshit tests and scans on pregnant chicks, for fun.) Grr.

I'm tired today. Not like I had a bad sleep last night and I'm going to bed early to make up for it. Like I'm tired of being sick. I'm tired of having diabetes and other chronic illnesses that will never leave me for the rest of my days. My heart is tired and my brain is tired and I am struggling with today, and dealing with life.

But days are temporary. And feelings can be too... Sometimes.

 I know that I won't always feel like this. Some days will inevitably be worse than others, and some days I'll be happy and confident in my position in life, where I am and the progress I've made. Other days I'll look at my so-called progress and cry because I'll feel like I've gotten nowhere and I'm failing myself, my body, my child and everyone around me. I've had them days before and I'll sure as hell have them again.

Today is one of those think about my "progress" and cry kind of days.

My doctor wants me to have an eye exam because my eyesight is getting worse and we want to make sure I won't be blind by the time I'm 30 because of my diabetes.
I also need to go for some other test or scan or something the week after my daughter is born because I can't have it done while I'm pregnant because it will make her grow a third arm or some shit... Makes me think,  " What is that doing to MY insides?"
I guess in the end it wont matter too too much. I'll either live long and prosper or I wont, and I'm pretty content with either.

Peace, Mego out.

Ahh. Another Refreshing Morning.

You know that great feeling when you’re slowly waking up from your nighttime slumbers, you can hear birds chirping, you can hear the wind coursing through the leaves on the trees, in sort of a sing-songy way, welcoming you to a brand new day with brand new possibilities, maybe you can hear a wind chime playing you the lovely tune of her people, the tune she was born to play from the moment of her creation, until she inevitably ends up torn from her hanging home, crumpled in a pile on the ground where she would lay for the rest of her wind chime existence.

Yeah, me neither. Maybe when I was younger, and without many an ailment.

Usually my waking moment is less of a slow  welcoming into the world’s new day kinda thing, and more of a ripped out of sleep by something (or someone) telling me to check my blood sugar. Or, it’s an abrupt how do you do when my bladder decides not to check if it's alright with my brain if it lets loose and sends pee cascading into the sheets while I sleep because my daughter just had to sprawl out and use said bladder as a bouncy house or some shit. Now, usually I do make it to the bathroom. I'm not that far gone. But sometimes I worry more than other times…

Or maybe I'm woken up by the pain that sets in after laying in one position for more than 20 minutes. I think that one's my favorite. Hips, back, legs, neck, shoulders. You all know what I’m talking about.

Hell, I’m only 19, why do I feel like this all the time? Oh yeah, I’m growing a human life.

Now, there are some upsides to all these things. Waking up in the middle of the night to check my blood sugar instead of slipping into a coma and dying would be easier for everyone involved, I think.

Having my brain make 1 last ditch effort to wake me up to go to the bathroom before it gives in to my bladder’s pleads of "please let me pee” is better than just letting me slumber and wake up in cold wet sheets. Thanks, brain.

And my pain just means that I AM GROWING A CHILD. And not just any child, MY child. The innocent  one I will raise and teach good morals to. The little one I will clean scraped knees for and sing soothing tunes to in times of need. The beautiful one who one day I will hug tightly with tears in my eyes  and tell her she's making the right choice in who she commits her life to for the remainder of it. If I didn't have this pain, it would mean that I'm not working my very hardest to create a better and healthier life for my little one. So I’ll take it. I’ll take all the pain, and the tears, and the uncomfortable that it will take to make sure my child knows just how much she means to me, and just how hard I’m willing to work for her to have a good life, before she's even in this world. They say that after you have a baby, your life will never be the same. Well my life is completely different now because of this kid, and it morphed from the second I knew she was forming. From the time she was the size of a little tiny poppy seed, to now, when I can feel her crushing my bladder, and kicking my ribs at the same time. My life is drastically different and I can't wait to meet my best friend. She has changed me in more ways that one, and I will never be the same.

Sometimes in life you have hardships and struggles, but it's easy to see the good. Other times, you have bombs whipped at you and in the moments that you're being attacked, the dread and sorrow make it too overwhelming to breathe, let alone see any good that might possibly come out of it. There are things that I refuse to write about, that are too hard to talk about, let alone scrawl them out onto a page for the public to read. But even now, with scars that were once wounds I thought would never heal, I can look back with strength and understanding and see the good. There is a little good in everything. Of this I am sure. Even if it never touches you, somebody else will get some good from it and maybe find peace. Maybe find comfort. Maybe find the last little string that they can hold onto for a little while longer. I have realized that in this life, I do not matter. What matters to me is others. My child's health and well-being, my husband's comfort and happiness, my mother's peace and calm. My father’s desire to be loved without jumping through a few sometimes seemingly necessary hoops… I didn't do anything to deserve my Father’s love or acceptance. There is no reason for it. Other than just love. And a plain desire to be loved back. Just the other day I was talking to a woman I didn't know, at the store or something. And she said that she didn't understand why people could not be kind. She said that kindness is free, and kindness pays. And I’m not sure I've heard a truer statement. Kindness is free, and kindness pays.

Peace, Mego out.