It's 2:42 A.M.; I'm awake and my mind is roaming wide plains of thought, and so I anticipate a wildly stream-of-conscious blog. The first roam being that the use of pen and paper has become, in my life, highly obsolete, resulting in an odd clenching of my entire arm and hand as I write. I have an absolute death grip on this pen. And yes that means this was first a hand written blog entry, because its 2:44 A.M. and I've heard that the light from a computer, much like that of a TV and hand-held video game (another option I considered), interrupts the
cardia rhythm, which is entirely the wrong term. But word on the insomnia street is that those lights are decidedly bad for inducing sleep.
The reason I'm awake at this awful hour is because my stomach is killing me, and by stomach I don't mean the
euphemismly vague catch all term of stomach, but the actual organ located here (I did write that on paper in anticipation of a google image search):
I had/have (?) H.pylori. You can get it in America, but my stomach pain seems to date back to sometime after a trip to Mexico (94 or 95 ?). And it's pretty much the worst pain in the world (at least my world) and I've had malaria.
It's panic-inducing pain; a pain that I've always been certain ought to kill me. I've thought, one can't be in this much pain and continue to be alive. At its worst it feels like a creature, made of fire, trying to eat it's way out of my stomach (yes, think Aliens). I actually passed out a couple of times, but I think I was just hyperventilating.
I saw an ER epi once about a severely burned guy. His breathing got really odd and the docs ran around trying to figure out what was wrong and toyed with the idea of intubating (any ER fans notice how in every epi at least one patient was intubated?). (Okay, I've no idea if that's actually how the scene played out, but I'm going with it.) My memory is vague but I think the dialogue ran thusly:
doc 1: He's hyperventilating.
nurse 1/intern doc 1: Why?
doc 1: He's in so much pain.
Anyway that's this kind of pain, well not right now since I'm able to write out a blog, but that's the kind of pain this can become. I used to have an absolutely beautiful, divine, sent from heaven pain pill that nipped it in the bud, but I recently ran out and when I went to have it refilled, discovered that it's been taken off the market because of adverse side effects; like what, sweet relief?! There's nothing to take it's place, so the doc gave me a
dif pain pill, and since I took it two hours ago and I'm still awake and my stomach still hurts, I'm going to say it's not sent from heaven.
So with that monstrously long disclaimer on why I'm awake, at now 3:04 A.M. I'll move off this old lady ramble of ailments and drugs.
I need a new phone with a higher pixel camera, or, here's a thought, I could keep my actual camera on me at all times. I took this pic many months ago. You can't tell, but there's a fawn outside the window (I wanted to write baby fawn, but that's rather redundant):
This is roughly what it looked like. (I stole this off the internet).
Where I work I frequently see wildlife. I've seen a doe, rabbits (personal fav), chipmunks (another personal fav), turkey, and the fawn. I feel like a Disney character, except I can't sing and these animals run from me rather than help me clean my humble, yet homey, cottage in the forest. But anyway, I stopped my car so I could just bask in its little fawn sweetness. This was a bad idea as that meant stopping here:
I nearly caused a three car pileup; embarrassingly, all three were coworkers.
Coworker 1: I thought your car had broken down.
Me: There was a fawn.
Coworker 2: I almost plowed into the back of coworker 1.
Me: There was a fawn.
Coworker 2 (as Coworker 3 silently looks on): That was a really bad idea.
Me: But there was a fawn. A FAWN!
I later told Jen, who really is a Disney character. She can sing; and once, we visited a sheep farm and while they wouldn't come within a mile of me, they were draped across her lap looking languidly and adoringly up at her.
Me: (fawn story)
Jen: It was alone?
Me (sensing she has made a keen and undesirable observation): Yes. It was just on the edge of the woods.
Jen: That's not good; it shouldn't have been alone. That means something happened to it's mother.
Me: ....oh, that really changes my feelings about this story.
Months and months later, while carpooling with Rachel, we were recounting all the animals we've seen driving up to the building. The fawn story came up and she said, "Oh yea, I saw that fawn too. I called animal control since it was alone." (the good animal control, the kind that takes sweet, abandoned fawns and rehabilitates them, resulting in email chains of little fawns curled up with the center's cat, dog, or rabbit, as the case may be).
So, Jen, I don't believe I ever told you the ending to this story, but it's a happy one...I think...I hope.
I doubt anyone is still reading this; it's WAY too long, but I've tried to throw in pics for today's word-adverse society.
So my tum still hurts, my mind's still roaming, and my death-grip-clenched hand's spasming; I think I'll just stare at the ceiling for a bit, and/or rummage through my drugs and see what other treats I can find.
"Adieu, to you and you and you." (My fav movie)
Well, except for this one:
And this one:
And this one:
And: 
(I hate that they didn't make a sequel. I LOVED the gothic feel to this. It was visual amazing!)
So anyway, Sound of Music is "one of the top thirty [movies] of our time. Anyway, at least." (a nod to, yes, another top fav)
For real, I'm done.
(shoutouts: Google earth; random internet images; copyright infringement; photoshop; Samsung camera phone; wikipedia, which all my copyediting friends will scoff at, with good reason; stong barbiturates, even when they don't quite remove the pain they still make you chatty)
And I REALLY want to jump off a tall scafoldy thing with an umbrella... 
while wearing a fancy dress!
