Braaaaains

Yesterday I went for a CT Scan on my brain. Why, you ask?  Well, let me tell you.  It’s all because of this fine gentlemen:

That’s my dad and he has a brain aneurysm.  This was him just before we found out all the details about what it is, where it is and what has to be done. It’s scary as fuck y’all!

Papa Smurf has a Basilar Tip Aneurysm that is 17 mm.  Right in the middle of his brain which makes it a “complex aneurysm”, because of course it does.

He’s going to have brain surgery in the new year and get all patched up and be totally fine. Knock on wood.  All of you.  Right now!

I know, I know, I still haven’t told you why I had to get a CT Scan.  So I will tell you.  The motherfuckers run in families! Whaaaat!?

My dad’s mom died of a brain aneurysm.  He has one now.  His first- degree relatives all need to get checked.  Me, my two brothers and my uncle and aunt.  Good times!

The best part about the scan is that they give you an injection when your brain is getting scanned and I was told it would make me feel like I had to pee … but no, no … that’s not quite it … It made me feel like I was peeing!
I was 100% sure they’d get me out and I’d sit up with pee pants.  But that wasn’t the case.  Just a delightful side effect.  A warm, fuzzy crotch feeling.  Hooray!

The lesson here is: Get your brains checked and wear Depends whilst doing so.

The End

The Dumbening

I have been trying to see a new therapist for ages, but the hard part of trying to go see a therapist about your anxiety is that your dickbag anxiety gets in the way of you actually getting to see the therapist.  And, just to be even dickbaggier, it actually makes me dumber.

The First Dumbening

I worried all day about where to park and got so wound up about it that I texted my husband telling him I didn’t want to go.  He asked me where the office was.  Then told me where to park.  Then I looked on a map and found an even closer parking garage.  Never even occurred to me to LOOK somewhere for a parking spot.  Dorp!

The Second Dumbening

I was at the parking paying machine thing and my grand total was $1.00  The machine would not take my cards.  It kept telling me they were invalid.  Not declined.  Invalid. So mean!  I tried over and over because if they didn’t work I would be trapped in the parking garage forever and would have to live in my car.  I got so panicky that I texted Eric that I was trapped.  Trapped?  Really, Jenny?  Then I found a quarter in my pocket and remembered I had 3 more in the car.  SAVED!  However, I started panicking anew that in the time it took me to get to the car and back the price would go up and I would be trapped in the clutches of the evil parking garage again!

It did not occur to me until much later that there were at least 3 banks less than a two-minute walk from where I was.  Banks.  Where they keep the money.  Banks that I could walk to and get some of that money stuff that I needed to escape the evil parking garage.  Shit.

Come on, brain!

Silvia

Silvia,

It’s been 1 week and 4 days since you passed away. I’ve needed to write this every day since then but I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.

You were born on January 2, 1951.  You died on September 20, 2018.

In between, I got to know you for 9 years.  You were my mother-in-law for almost 7 of those years.

I’m not good at letting people get close to me. As one of my friends said about me, “It takes a lot of time with her.” And it does. But we ran out of time and I’m sorry for that.

For someone like me, you were the perfect mother-in-law. Always available, but never intrusive. You made it abundantly clear that having kids makes life better but never judged Eric and me for not having any.

You always made me feel welcome in your family. I got the same pyjamas and comfy sweaters as all the other girls at Christmas. You sent me a birthday card every year. You understood that I am a texter and not good on the phone. I never felt left out and I always felt that you were happy for me and Eric. ♥

You were a badass chick! You would tell stories, or more often, others would tell stories about your younger days and I would feel like an old lady in comparison!  You had some crazy adventures and that badassery stayed with you all the way to the end!

We found out you were sick on July 26, 2018, and you died 8 weeks later. I still don’t understand it. Pancreatic Cancer. Bastard.

You were surrounded by people who love you in your last days. When you finally passed we were all there and we breathed sighs of relief that your pain was over and cried tears of pain because you were gone.

I kept hearing that voice in my head telling me this is why we don’t get close to people. The pain. There’s always the pain. But as I sat there and watched people hold your hand and talk to you and weep there was a louder voice telling me that pain born of love is beautiful in itself. We are lucky to feel this pain. I still hate it, but I will open myself to the pain and the love and feel it all and cry the tears and miss you. I will love Eric and make sure he is okay as long as I have breath.

I wish I’d had more time with you.

I love you.

A Lesson on Undies

If you have gained weight it is a good idea to buy new undies.  I guess if you’ve lost weight it is too but I haven’t reached that point.  I’ll let you know!

Upsizing your underwear is a horrible experience, but the end result speaks for itself.

I have been struggling with my weight for almost 10 years and I’ve been up and down …mostly up … but I have never upped the size of my undies.

Until last week.

My current stock of underwear was way too small.  I kept squeezing into them because I’m stubborn, but when my gut started folding them over and I couldn’t get them to cover my ass anymore I knew it was time.

I went to Amazon because there’s no way I’m shopping for up-sized-undies in the real world.


I shall now re-enact for you, in writing, my underwear adventure:

Hmmm, let’s see … if my current underwear size is REDACTED and it barely covers my arse, then I should probably bump it up to REDACTED just to be on the safe side.  They’ll probably be too big, but at least I’ll have a starting point.

**clickity click click*** Underwear has been ordered!

A few days later, the underwear arrives.

**crinkle crinkle crinkle** The package is open.

Jesus these are huge! I could fit two of my asses in here.

**ruffle ruffle ruffle** The underwear is tried on.

Fuuuuuuck!


I suppose the lesson here is that it’s hard to gauge the size of your own ass?

A few words on these giant undies.  I wore a pair to work to test drive them and they are the most comfortable underwear I have ever owned.  They’re so big and so all-encompassing that nothing goes where it shouldn’t and everything is covered.

It’s like going commando but without the risk of your pant seams shredding your vulva!  Bliss!

These are not sexy undies.  These are the Grandma of all Granny Panties.  Possibly the Great-Grandma of all Granny Panties.  The Alpha and Omega of the G.P.  You get the point.

However, it wasn’t particularly sexy bursting out of the undies I was previously wearing that were REDACTED sizes too small.  At least I’m comfortable now.  I just have to make sure my shirts come down far enough to cover my underpants!