Tag: Health

No sense in crying over spilled pills

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Had one of those moments the other day where something that to a randomly sampled audience would probably be fairly insignificant happened and I was just ready to lose it. Like the worst has happened, there’s no turning back everything is ruined, the universe is out to get me kind of reaction. Sometimes when so much shit is just miles beyond your control and all your energy goes not pulling at that thread, one can overreact, eh rather let’s say manifest multiple emotions in a less significant event. Which is precisely what happened to me the other day.

At this point I hope I’ve created some dramatic build up because this was some seriously disastrous shit and deserves some suspense you guys. So I was sorting my pills because it was pill day (we’ll get into that another time) and I opened one of the compartments Tuesday PM to be specific and it just snapped clean off. It was in that moment I too snapped. First this was a NEW pill organizer, so why the fuck is it even breaking and why is CVS producing an inferior product to the identical one I bought 3 years ago that is still intact? Second, it is SO HARD to find the good super XXL pill organizers I was so excited when I found a second one to have AM/PM that actually held all my shit and now I have to begin this process over? Oy motherfucking Vey. Third, sure I could fix it but then it won’t perfectly coordinate with the AM one and the whole system is aesthetically ruined, something that is probably more important to me than it should be.

The gang before tragedy struck, didn’t know what was coming for him RIP

So, here I am distraught over this pill organizing catastrophe, holding this dumbass little piece of plastic with the T for Tuesday, not sure my plan of attack, and my husband says, “It’ll be ok we can go to both CVS’s and see if they have another one tomorrow.” And I’m thinking, one, it’s good he understands that it has to be the exact same or I’ll have matching issues, that’s love, and two, that it’s really not about the pill organizer ya know? I mean yes I am pissed at CVS but we have a rocky relationship anyway (more tea on that later). I’m pissed that I have 2 XXL pill organizers filled to the brim, a cute lil XL for midday tied to me at all times. I’m pissed about loads of other things it’s just a lot easier to get mad at a little piece of plastic that has wronged you than your own body. Woah deep shit.

Alas, considering purchasing a ton of pill organizers and other drug accessories and writing reviews based of different criteria, size, durability, ease of opening, etc. Ya girl does love to shop…

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Why Weezy?

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At this point some of you may have become curious or even confused with regards to the name of my blog, asking yourself:

  • WTF does the illest even mean?
  • Wait…isn’t that like a rap lyric?

    • Hopefully today’s post clears up some of your curiosities, and you can understand the method behind the madness.

    “[Bitch] I’m ill, not sick”, was first uttered by Lil Wayne or Weezy, in the song A Milli, on my personal favorite album Tha Carter III. (Actually it was motherfucker, but I’m trying to tone it down just a touch). This line for whatever reason has always resonated with me.
    When I think of sick, I think of weak, helpless, and needy. I also think of acute problems, tissues, cold medicine, “get well” balloons. None of those things match what it really means to be chronically ill. For a person with a chronic illness a “get well soon” can feel like a slap in the face or punch in gut. It’s at that moment I want to say “Bitch, I’m ill not sick.”
    Everyone finds wisdom in different pockets of their lives, and for me Lil Wayne really did say it best, being chronically ill is so more than being sick. So I’m just out here trying to be the illest, to thrive where I can. It almost feels like one of those reclaiming the word used against you kinda things. And whatever your views on Lil Wayne and Young Money as a whole may be, it sure as hell is a nice change of pace from the royal bummer that is being sick.

    Find my titular muse here.

    Russian Roulette: Mast Cell Edition

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    So if you’ve read my saga of a full personal bio you know this, if not SPOILER ALERT, but Mast Cell Activation Syndrome/Mastocytosis are among my principal diagnosis and play a fairly important role in keeping me nice and ill. A huge part of managing this disease is knowing and avoiding your triggers, which makes sense as your mast cells are already doing crazy ass shit on their own, then you throw other histamines in there and it’s a clusterfuck. Very technical language I know, I’m basically a doctor.

    img_1354-1
    SOS from an Uber, perfumes are one of my biggest triggers. Twas just about to barf just moments after this snap.

    The fun part is that virtually anything can be a trigger, environmental changes, food, stress, you name it, we react to it. One might think however that once a trigger was discovered, say dairy for example, you could be like adios queso! Then todo bien, but one would be wrong. The thing that makes MCAS such a sneaky bitch is you may react to something you’ve historically never reacted to before, and vice versa. If I had a dollar for all the shit I’ve had to throw away because it spontaneously started to make me itchy after days or even months of being hunky dory…I could probably quit my second job.

    Alas, this is the essence of Russian Roulette: Mast Cell Edition. Never know if that barrel is empty or filled with hives, tachycardia, and oh so much more. It does however lend hope to the thought one day I may be able to eat Flamin Hot Cheetos again without getting hives all over my body. Silver linings ya know?

    Also quick footnote on #triggered, in the photo it is quite literal in a sense not referring to its definition in a mental health capacity, if you use the term in jest give this a read. Give respect, get respect.