Fire Happy

I don’t think I ever mentioned that Docalicious fired me. Did I ever mention that? After he called a gastro to get the PEG placed, he said that he was going to refer me to a different doc because I was “out of his league.” So does he just mean I’m suuuper hot, and I intimidate him with my classy good looks and tall smokin' bod? Haha yeah I bet.
No but for reals he said, “Don’t get me wrong. I love seeing you. I’m just giving advice I’d give my sister. I really think you could get better medical care from somebody else.”

So I was pretty bummed. I didn’t know a doc could just fire you because you were too “complicated.” Half the world these days has ED’s, I mean, what’s the big deal?

But it gets worse.

So then I started seeing this new doc, right, that seemed pretty knowledgeable about ED’s. Once she saw I had a PEG, she said that she didn’t feel right seeing me either, and pawned me off on some other loser. She was like, “Once PEG’s and electrolytes are involved, I just don’t feel qualified,” and I DON’T.FREAKING.GET.IT. Would they turn away a diabetic because their blood sugar got too high? Of course not! That’s like the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.

If I could even cry anymore (it’s much more difficult these days for me to cry, not sure why) I would. It kind of hurts, to feel weird and wrong and “un-helpable.”

So this new doc I’m supposed to go to is supposedly like the best in the state for girls with ED’s. At this point I’m sure she’ll see me and wanna fire me too. Since when is it okay for doctors to refuse to see a patient based on their medical problem(s)?

On another note

Saw GI doc today. He gave me a Rx for a med that’s supposed to make me hungry; he gives it to a lot of his malnourished clients. Not gonna lie, the idea of taking a pill that makes me ravenous scares the ijjer jijjers outta me. And my ijjer jijjers are not easily frightened.

He also said that because I’m malnourished, I’m not healing right, which is the source of all my pain. He said that my skin around the tube, instead of wrapping itself around it (think of an ear piercing) is pulling away from it, which is leaking stomach acid into my abdomen and my skin – which would obviously explain the burning pain (literal burning) I’ve been feeling. And yes, stomach acid burning you is EVEN MORE painful than you can imagine, that I can assure you of.
So I’m a little bummed today.

The Epitome of Pathetic

1. I’m in a wheelchair.
2. At The Wal-Mart.
3. In SWEATS (Vicky’s Pink sweats, but still).
4. I’m in a wheelchair.
5. AT WAL-MART.

...Stay classy, San Diego

The Before Brie

My sister wrote a sweet blog all about me. I'd give you the link except it's set to private, too bad so sad. But in the blog, she posted several pics of me taken a few years ago...I hadn't seen them in so long and was ASTOUNDED at how different I look now. It's pry a combination of both facial maturity and weight loss, but woah. When was this me??

Hazy Memories

I’ve been home for a few days now, got home Saturday late in the afternoon. My memories of the last week or so are hazy at best, between the morphine and oxycodone, it gets hard to remember.

I do, however, remember this:
Painpainpain lots of it.
My sweet BFF Whit, curling up on the hard-as-hell horrible mattress, sleeping by me at night because she knew I would hurt more if I were alone.
Brandon bringing me fuschia gerber daisies, my favorite.
My mom, coming to stay with me at the drop of a hat, keeping Cade safe and warm and loved, because she is his second favorite person in the world (after me, of course).
A visit from a friend I haven’t seen in years, to bring me a Diet Coke and the softest blanket I’ve ever felt.
Lana, coming to visit at 10 pm and not leaving till midnight, bringing chocolate shakes and Mean Girls, and contemplating having a slumber party with me…
Brandon, my Mom, cleaning my wound, not acting grossed out when I’d need help going to the bathroom or cleaning up my pukage, like someone else would be.
Patience and love and concern from everybody I know.
My sweet little boy, at home, wondering where his mommy could be? Fat tears rolling down his cheeks, bawling, and saying to his daddy, “I wanna see Mommy. I want Mommy come home. Pwease I wanna see Mommy pwease pwease!”
My son insisting on sleeping on his mommy’s pillow while she was gone, because it comforted him.
Weak. So terribly weak. I walk as if I’m 80 years old, hunched over because standing up straight causes incredible pain.
A swollen stomach with a huge tube coming out of it. It's damn attractive.
I’m terribly thin, have lost even more weight. I look terrible, even I, the seasoned anorexic, can see how terrifying I look.
Funny, wide-looking eyes, that have a far away look in them all the time. Painkillers will do that to ya. It’s pretty wild.

So I’ve lied in bed for the past few days, well enough, thank the Lord, to be home, but not well enough to do much of anything else. I still cannot go to work…don’t know when I’ll be back. I need time so that I can get stronger, not look like I’m literally dying when I go back. I’m just so WEAK. Moving is hard, still.

The surgery took a terrible toll on my body.

But at least I’m home, can wipe those tears from my baby’s eyes. I can remember how happy he was to come pick me up from the hospital, wearing his new yellow and blue plaid shorts and his Cars backpack, excitedly riding in the wheel chair with me down to the car. I can remember that he’s beautiful and he’s perfect and he needs his Mommy.

And that reminds me of what I need to do: pump the hell out of my stomach with BOOST. Yeah, baby!

How About a Real Update?

Well, still in the craptastic hospital. I was totally hoping they’d let me bounce today, but no deal. Probably sometime tomorrow or Sunday. Bonus though, at least I have now procured my laptop so I’ve got at least something to do other than watch crappy TV and listen to the old lady next door to me hack.

Official diagnosis:
Local Peritonitis. I’ve had it before. Remember that? Totally icky and totally almost like killed me but fortunately they caught it way fast enough for something like that to happen this time around. I KNEW something was wrong, I could feel it. I'm glad I got it checked out pronto because things could be really bad right now if I had ignored it...

Still in a great deal of pain, though I can now go about two hours without either Percocet or Morphine. My blood pressure is getting better too, which is good. For the past few days it’s hung out at or around 80/50, which made doing anything but lying down, trying to not pass out, pretty impossible. My potassium and sodium was off too for a few days, and I was extremely dehydrated, but they’re thinking that after my last bag of fluids they just started, I hopefully won’t need anymore. I’m having pee issues too – like, it’s totally hard to go. And it’s brown. I manage to squirt a little out every now and again though, which leaves me about as impressed with myself as parents are with their honor students.
Shutup I’m so amazing!

Can’t yet start feedings with the PEG – not until the pain is better managed and I’m tolerating food more. As soon as I do in a few days, I’ll have to get my electrolytes checked every other day to make sure I’m not dealing with re-feeding again, especially as I’ve been so dehydrated and screwed up lately. I’ll be starting EXTREMELY SLOW - 10 mL/hour which is seriously like nothing…but within a couple weeks I’m sure I’ll joyously be getting aplenty, no kidding. I’ve been on a mostly liquid-sipping diet, seeing as when I was admitted I had bright red vomit all over me. I find it highly ironic that this place is like turning me anorexic again. I know I’ve lost weight (who wouldn’t after not eating or drinking anything for 3 days?) and I’m moaning and grumping that I’M FREAKING HUNGRY but that apparently isn’t like the “priority” right now. Seriously, so weird! Eating is supposed to ALWAYS be the priority with me, I mean am I right?

And, just for a little fun, I thought I’d post this pic Bran took of me when I was in recovery from the surgery. I look so sad! Haha. If only I knew what horrors lied ahead…

Lotsa thanks to my fam and friends throughout all this. Both Brandon and Whit have been rock stars, and each braved a night on the taco-shaped cot right next to me. I know I’m like a big girl or whatever, but it was still so comforting to have someone with me. Mom, Alana…my sisters…all of you who have emailed and texted your love and concern, thanks so much! It means a lot.

Peace out sluts. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll blow this joint. And I will, of course, keep you updated. The morphine’s wheee ooooh wow totally kicking in, I betsa be going.

I Got in a Fight with the PEG & it Totally Kicked my Trash

Hey everyone,

This will be brief because I'm a)on morphine b) in pain and c) typing this from my phone.

I've been in the hospital for two days, there's been complications from the PEG tube placement. Low blood pressure & off electrolytes...but mostly an insane amount of pain...another complication mostly due to an extremely low body weight...long story, more later on that.

I'd say the best part of my week was vomiting a geyser of red contrast dye from the CAT scan. We were in the car all the way to the hospital & I puked all over myself like a 2 year old. End up staggering in with sticky smelly boobies...totally classic Brie, no kidding.

Hoping to go home tomorrow, they're working on managing my pain so that I don't have to be on morphine every 1 - 2 hours. Percocet just ain't cuttin' it yet.

So, yeah. Whoever said that PEG placement surgery was a piece of cake obviously doesn't doesn't know how much my body hates me.

I Have One Classy Child

Shall we examine the evidence?

-Last summer's polo that's entirely too short for his 'lil midriff.
-Cars tennies with no socks.
-And, my favorite: his cousin's daisy dukes. Did I mention his cousin is a chick? He was wearing them, because I quote in his own sweet, adorable words, "My peeped my pants, Mommy! My peeped my pants!"

It's a long story.
Love you, Mini Man. Thanks for keeping me going.



Don't you just want to eat those adorable looking drum sticks???