Hello everyone and happy Thanksgiving (those from America and Canada) I'm sure it's probably a regular day in other countries and Thanksgiving for Canada was last month as I heard from a Canadian friend of mine. OR~ maybe it's a special occasion. Maybe it's someone's birthday (Happy Birthday if it's anyone's today) or it's probably Hanukkah. Yes, it's Hanukkah. Now, I'm Latina so I know I'm not Jewish but I do know that I am culture-friendly as well as religion-friendly. As I was watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade, I noticed that one of the floats was a dreidel. Then I thought "When is Hanukkah?" I recently found out that Hanukkah started yesterday at sunset and overlapped Thanksgiving. I remember reading an article about it. Hmm... something about Thankgiving being on the 4th Thursday and Hanukkah being on the 24th? I don't exactly remember but I thought it was a little funny when they called it Thanksgivukkah. That's nice. Say that to a Jewish friend, will you? "Hey! Happy Thanksgivukkah!" Of course, they say that this won't occur again; like I said, something about the Hebrew calendar and our calendar. I don't know.
Sorry I haven't been posting a lot. There is a lot of school to be catching up on because I've been in the ER more frequently. And doctors STILL cannot find a thing. They say it's all in my head. Really? Then why am I losing weight fast and having constant stomach pain, along with nausea? And don't say it's anxiety! I get it! I have GAD. I know, but this isn't because of anxiety or stress. I know I have something and my friends can see it too. Ever time I walk through the doors of my school, my friends notice how I look. Clothing wise? Probably because they're too big on me NOW. I used to be 160 lbs, now I'm at 130. This isn't good for me because I came from a BIG family. We're all naturally big. But because of my strange illness, I am now the SKINNIEST person in my family. Woop-de-doo. Well, I have an appointment with a GI to have an endoscopy done since the Barium test didn't go too well. I pray that they'll find something. Anything! I just want to eat without getting sick. Hopefully, I can eat today because my mom, like most Puerto Ricans (and any Latinos in general), cooked a LOT of food and I'm hoping to eat, because all I've had in my stomach was a sip of my Powerade. That's it! Lord, let me eat!
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Dreams/Pictures Don't Always Mean Something
This is sort of a rant.
Whenever you tell someone of a dream you experienced, or if you draw a picture that's usually out of your range, people start to question it and think that it means something. It's not always true. Sometimes it can mean something and other times it's just completely out of the blue.
I'm described as a very cheerful person, always making people smile and laugh, but if I draw something sad, they immediately think I am depressed. I remember when I was in 7th grade and my 6th grade science teacher had a brain tumor and she died. It was really sad for everyone during the school day. I cried the day before because the school called all the parents, informing them of the teacher's death. The next day, I refused to smile and I didn't cry either. One of my classes was a graphic design I think. (Or was it pottery?) Anyways, I drew a picture of a plug laying on the floor and I wrote a little quote, saying how it's very sad that she's gone and that her family will never be ale to see her and all. I honestly don't remember what I wrote and I ended up turning it in. The next day, everything went back to normal, until I was called out of class and saw a counselor. Oh boy~ She held up the picture I did the day before and kept asking me if I was ok. I responded with a "I'm fine." Really, I was fine, but this woman was thinking that I was clinically depressed! It made me frustrated. It was a sad moment so I drew a sad picture. Big deal! Just because I draw a sad picture doesn't mean I'm depressed.
For years I've suffered from nausea without a diagnosis. My doctor recommended me to a child psychologist thinking my nausea is caused by anxiety. (Spoiler alert: I got an upper GI and I'm waiting for the results. One of the causes for my nausea is anxiety. That's what the psychologist diagnosed me with.) As I'm talking with the psychologist, she hands me these two papers: one for depression and the other for anxiety. I thought it was ridiculous that she gave me a paper about depression. I knew I wasn't depressed, but I did it anyway. I got a low score on the depression paper and a high score on the anxiety paper. She knew I was telling the truth about not having depression, but she wanted to be sure. I've told her about my friends and how they stress me out due to their problems. Most of them have depression. She thinks one of the triggers for my anxiety is my friends. I can't blame her because she's correct about that.
However, she thinks if I continue to hang out with them, I'll become them: Depressed. I've been with these people since middle school and I'm still the same cheerful girl I am today. I just don't like when people jump to conclusions instead of waiting for the intro first. I can't draw a picture without them trying to guess what it is. Hey, it's just a circle, wait for the full body and guess whatever you want AFTER I'm finished. Just to let you know, I LIKE sad things. I'm not saying I'm a sadist, or I like pain or have this weird fetish of death. I don't know what it is, but I just like sad things. Sad drawings, sad music, they get me in a good mood. I draw sad things, I draw gore-y things, I write about death and such, but it doesn't make me some freak who smiles at funerals! No! Nor does it make me depressed. I think it's because I've had a lot of relatives who have died during my life and the fact I join my mother when she watches Investigation Discovery and her true crimes. My mother loves true crimes, she especially likes women going crazy and killing their husbands, and she likes reading about child abuse, but it doesn't make her a psycho. She doesn't abuse my brother or I, and she doesn't even THINK about killing my dad. She's just interested in them. Of course, she gets upset about the death and the thought of child abuse makes her stomach twist. She constantly questions why parents kill their own children.
So, just because we do all these things doesn't make us psycho or depressed. We're just interested. And I'm saying most people, not everyone.
Whenever you tell someone of a dream you experienced, or if you draw a picture that's usually out of your range, people start to question it and think that it means something. It's not always true. Sometimes it can mean something and other times it's just completely out of the blue.
I'm described as a very cheerful person, always making people smile and laugh, but if I draw something sad, they immediately think I am depressed. I remember when I was in 7th grade and my 6th grade science teacher had a brain tumor and she died. It was really sad for everyone during the school day. I cried the day before because the school called all the parents, informing them of the teacher's death. The next day, I refused to smile and I didn't cry either. One of my classes was a graphic design I think. (Or was it pottery?) Anyways, I drew a picture of a plug laying on the floor and I wrote a little quote, saying how it's very sad that she's gone and that her family will never be ale to see her and all. I honestly don't remember what I wrote and I ended up turning it in. The next day, everything went back to normal, until I was called out of class and saw a counselor. Oh boy~ She held up the picture I did the day before and kept asking me if I was ok. I responded with a "I'm fine." Really, I was fine, but this woman was thinking that I was clinically depressed! It made me frustrated. It was a sad moment so I drew a sad picture. Big deal! Just because I draw a sad picture doesn't mean I'm depressed.
For years I've suffered from nausea without a diagnosis. My doctor recommended me to a child psychologist thinking my nausea is caused by anxiety. (Spoiler alert: I got an upper GI and I'm waiting for the results. One of the causes for my nausea is anxiety. That's what the psychologist diagnosed me with.) As I'm talking with the psychologist, she hands me these two papers: one for depression and the other for anxiety. I thought it was ridiculous that she gave me a paper about depression. I knew I wasn't depressed, but I did it anyway. I got a low score on the depression paper and a high score on the anxiety paper. She knew I was telling the truth about not having depression, but she wanted to be sure. I've told her about my friends and how they stress me out due to their problems. Most of them have depression. She thinks one of the triggers for my anxiety is my friends. I can't blame her because she's correct about that.
However, she thinks if I continue to hang out with them, I'll become them: Depressed. I've been with these people since middle school and I'm still the same cheerful girl I am today. I just don't like when people jump to conclusions instead of waiting for the intro first. I can't draw a picture without them trying to guess what it is. Hey, it's just a circle, wait for the full body and guess whatever you want AFTER I'm finished. Just to let you know, I LIKE sad things. I'm not saying I'm a sadist, or I like pain or have this weird fetish of death. I don't know what it is, but I just like sad things. Sad drawings, sad music, they get me in a good mood. I draw sad things, I draw gore-y things, I write about death and such, but it doesn't make me some freak who smiles at funerals! No! Nor does it make me depressed. I think it's because I've had a lot of relatives who have died during my life and the fact I join my mother when she watches Investigation Discovery and her true crimes. My mother loves true crimes, she especially likes women going crazy and killing their husbands, and she likes reading about child abuse, but it doesn't make her a psycho. She doesn't abuse my brother or I, and she doesn't even THINK about killing my dad. She's just interested in them. Of course, she gets upset about the death and the thought of child abuse makes her stomach twist. She constantly questions why parents kill their own children.
So, just because we do all these things doesn't make us psycho or depressed. We're just interested. And I'm saying most people, not everyone.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Losing My Innocent Mind
I was never taught about sex and whenever my parents cussed, it was in Spanish. I didn't fully understand sex until I reached high school. In middle school, people were shocked on how I didn't know about sex. The only thing I knew was about a girl's menstrual cycle. My earliest memory of learning about a new word was in elementary school. I was in my 5th grade class and we were learning about science. My teacher was teaching us about the planets and how there was this one planet that had an "inappropriate" name. Before the teacher could say it, a kid shouted, "Uranus!" and the whole class busted into laughter. I wasn't laughing. I didn't understand it. I asked why it was so funny and my teacher responded that doctors used "anus" instead of your "bum." When I got to 8th grade, my science teacher told me that we were pronouncing it wrong. It's pronounced: Ur-uh-nahs. People have been pronouncing it wrong the whole time and I understood why people laughed at it.
When I started the 6th grade, I had an art class. I sat at a table filled with 8th graders and they constantly made fun of me. Although, they always complimented my artwork. Confusing, I know. One day, one of the 8th graders at my table mentioned "crabs." With my innocent mind, I was thinking of the crustacean and the character you saw on SpongeBob. Without thinking, I said outoud, "I've never had crabs before. I'd like to try it!" Huge mistake. They started laughing at me and one of the 8th graders, that was female, was trying to shut me up before I embarrassed myself more. After class, she told me that crabs was an STD. How was I suppose to know? My parents never talked to me about sex. Both my parents were both virgins until after they got married. Plus, my mother was Catholic and believed in abstinence until marriage. That's what I learned. When I was in 8th grade, I had art class again. I was seated at a table where I was the only girl and these three boys were all friends. They were very inappropriate and I never communicated with them. One day, they were whispering to each other and kept eyeing me. I was very suspicious but I went on with my assignment. One of the guys spoke up. He started off with, "Hey." I looked up and responded with a "hey" as well. He snickered a bit then said, "Ever heard of a boner?" I shoke my head. "No. What is that?" They started laughing. I was confused now. They then asked, "Ever heard of drop the soap?" I shoke my head again and asked what it was. They continued to laugh. Once I got home, I got on my computer and looked the terms up. After research, I was red in the face. Not mad, but embarrassed. Now, I have full knowledge about both the term and phrase.
After entering high school, I saw an old friend of mine and she was very dirty-minded. She taught me about terms that seemed innocent but were very dirty. She even taught my bad words. I used it one day and got yelled at by my dad. No punishment, just a warning. I didn't know. Really, I didn't. After the 2nd semester of the school year, I was stuck at lunch with her group. Half were dirty-minded while the other half knew about it, but preferred not to talk about it. I was part of none of these categories. Over the semester, they constantly talked dirty and always cussed after each word. I usually cussed but I stopped doing that because it created knots in my stomach and made me uncomfortable. I used very cute words or other phrases in order to keep myself from cussing.
Anyways, I could never eat or draw anything without them twisting it around. I stopped eating hot dogs because of them! I stopped eating anything that resembled a male's phallus. I couldn't even draw anything because they twisted the picture around. It was very difficult and I was furious. I left the table and sat by myself for the day. I returned the next but I refused to talk with them.
After taking a Health class, volunteering over the summer at the local hospital, and now I'm currently taking an Anatomy and Physiology class, I fully understand sex. My mother said that I was still a little innocent, but I didn't quite understand references or jokes made about sex. There were times where I could understand and other times where I felt like Sheldon from Big Bang Theory. You know with how he doesn't understand sarcasm or the slang used in "today's youth." I had my moments.
After learning about sex, I finally understand songs that were actually about sex. Like the "3" song by Britney Spears. At first, I was thinking, "Oh numbers." But now, after listening to the song today, I think, "Oh a threesome." I'm not dirty-minded. I don't use sex references. And I certainly don't see all the sexual things like in pictures of stories. My friends, especially my best friends, are dirty-minded. I'm the ONLY mature one in the whole group and whenever they use sex references or cuss, I either ay, "Mind your language!" or "It's not what you think. It's not even what you're thinking." I get mad when they tell me sexual jokes. I understand them but, honestly, I hate them. One time, a friend of mine tapped me with a spoon and giggled, "You just got spooned!" For one thing, that's not really sexual to me. Later, the same day, she tapped me with a fork and giggled, "You just got forked!" It wasn't funny. I told her, "Stop spooning and forking me. How about forking yourself?" This is exactly what I said and she laughed. She wasn't offended what so ever. I let it slide for the day, but I told her to stop and not to that to me anymore. Maybe I didn't lose all of my innocent mind...maybe.
Question: When were you taught about sex? And who taught you? Parents, Health teacher, friends, etc.
When I started the 6th grade, I had an art class. I sat at a table filled with 8th graders and they constantly made fun of me. Although, they always complimented my artwork. Confusing, I know. One day, one of the 8th graders at my table mentioned "crabs." With my innocent mind, I was thinking of the crustacean and the character you saw on SpongeBob. Without thinking, I said outoud, "I've never had crabs before. I'd like to try it!" Huge mistake. They started laughing at me and one of the 8th graders, that was female, was trying to shut me up before I embarrassed myself more. After class, she told me that crabs was an STD. How was I suppose to know? My parents never talked to me about sex. Both my parents were both virgins until after they got married. Plus, my mother was Catholic and believed in abstinence until marriage. That's what I learned. When I was in 8th grade, I had art class again. I was seated at a table where I was the only girl and these three boys were all friends. They were very inappropriate and I never communicated with them. One day, they were whispering to each other and kept eyeing me. I was very suspicious but I went on with my assignment. One of the guys spoke up. He started off with, "Hey." I looked up and responded with a "hey" as well. He snickered a bit then said, "Ever heard of a boner?" I shoke my head. "No. What is that?" They started laughing. I was confused now. They then asked, "Ever heard of drop the soap?" I shoke my head again and asked what it was. They continued to laugh. Once I got home, I got on my computer and looked the terms up. After research, I was red in the face. Not mad, but embarrassed. Now, I have full knowledge about both the term and phrase.
After entering high school, I saw an old friend of mine and she was very dirty-minded. She taught me about terms that seemed innocent but were very dirty. She even taught my bad words. I used it one day and got yelled at by my dad. No punishment, just a warning. I didn't know. Really, I didn't. After the 2nd semester of the school year, I was stuck at lunch with her group. Half were dirty-minded while the other half knew about it, but preferred not to talk about it. I was part of none of these categories. Over the semester, they constantly talked dirty and always cussed after each word. I usually cussed but I stopped doing that because it created knots in my stomach and made me uncomfortable. I used very cute words or other phrases in order to keep myself from cussing.
Anyways, I could never eat or draw anything without them twisting it around. I stopped eating hot dogs because of them! I stopped eating anything that resembled a male's phallus. I couldn't even draw anything because they twisted the picture around. It was very difficult and I was furious. I left the table and sat by myself for the day. I returned the next but I refused to talk with them.
After taking a Health class, volunteering over the summer at the local hospital, and now I'm currently taking an Anatomy and Physiology class, I fully understand sex. My mother said that I was still a little innocent, but I didn't quite understand references or jokes made about sex. There were times where I could understand and other times where I felt like Sheldon from Big Bang Theory. You know with how he doesn't understand sarcasm or the slang used in "today's youth." I had my moments.
After learning about sex, I finally understand songs that were actually about sex. Like the "3" song by Britney Spears. At first, I was thinking, "Oh numbers." But now, after listening to the song today, I think, "Oh a threesome." I'm not dirty-minded. I don't use sex references. And I certainly don't see all the sexual things like in pictures of stories. My friends, especially my best friends, are dirty-minded. I'm the ONLY mature one in the whole group and whenever they use sex references or cuss, I either ay, "Mind your language!" or "It's not what you think. It's not even what you're thinking." I get mad when they tell me sexual jokes. I understand them but, honestly, I hate them. One time, a friend of mine tapped me with a spoon and giggled, "You just got spooned!" For one thing, that's not really sexual to me. Later, the same day, she tapped me with a fork and giggled, "You just got forked!" It wasn't funny. I told her, "Stop spooning and forking me. How about forking yourself?" This is exactly what I said and she laughed. She wasn't offended what so ever. I let it slide for the day, but I told her to stop and not to that to me anymore. Maybe I didn't lose all of my innocent mind...maybe.
Question: When were you taught about sex? And who taught you? Parents, Health teacher, friends, etc.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Dusting my Blog
Wow! How long has it been? Sorry; I haven't been updating for a while, a long while. It's been almost a year since the last time I updated. Wow, just wow. Honestly, I apologize for not writing. For now, I'll just summarize my year so far! Well, here we go!
After my last school year, I signed up for volunteering at the hospital. One for humanitarian reasons and two I just love hospitals and the staff. No doubt about it. My mother's church friend who worked (or was it volunteered?) at a hospital, hooked me up and I was able to talk to the woman in charge of the teen volunteer program. She said I had to do some paperwork and the deadline was next week. Why didn't anyone tell me sooner?! However, I was still able to turn it in and wait for whether I was accepted or not. I was really anxious and a friend of mine, whose dream was to become a doctor as well, was volunteering at the Red Cross near her neighborhood. I was trying to get into Red Cross, but I was applying for a hospital that was EXTREMELY religious. It was a Catholic hospital. Anyways, I got an e-mail from the woman and she gave me a schedule of a meeting for when all the volunteers meet and get to set up their working hours. In other words, I was accepted. I wanted to scream for joy, but I was at school during the time. I ended up telling my parents about my acceptance and they were thrilled. So, we met up and I set up my schedule. I chose Patient Transport, the only thing was if I wanted to work for Patient Transport, I needed to take a CPR class. No problem. I was a little freaked out though because when I went inside and had to wait for the other people (half of them were volunteers for the hospital) I had to sit with dummies EVERYWHERE. It was like I was in a horror movie and I was the next experiment. Fortunately, I passed the class and the volunteers had another meeting for training and such. But, stupid me, we had a blood draw! And because I never ate, I didn't eat that day. Most of the volunteers were scared of the blood draw, and I volunteered to go first. I wasn't scared of blood, nor was I scared of needles. I was just REALLY scared of vomit. So, this woman is poking me with this needle, and she's having trouble finding a vein. I've always had that problem with doctors. They NEVER find a good vein. She poked me twice in the arm, and didn't get enough blood she wanted. She ended up poking me in the hand to see if she could get some blood from there. I started joking around, telling her, "Stop poking me! I'm turning into Swiss cheese." Everybody had a good laugh and loved my company. Unfortunately, I nearly fainted from the blood draw. I didn't faint, but I ALMOST did. They took me to a room to keep an eye on me. The woman in charge said that I was extremely pale and looked really out of it. Luckily, they gave me a snack and some water, and they were able to get some blood from me. Yippee! I bought my uniform which was a candy striper outfit, except it wasn't a dress. It was a tunic. I had to buy the shirt under, the scrub pants, and the white shoes. I had to wear this outfit every tike I worked. My family constantly made fun of me, calling me a barber, or one of those vendors that sold cotton candy. Ugh...so immature.
I started working the week afterwards and I've met a lot of volunteers and CNAs. Although, most of the volunteers were adult and I only had someone close to my age. Although, she ended up turning 18 and was officially an adult, so I was the only teen volunteer. The volunteers and CNAs were very nice to me, and helped me get from destination to destination, showed me the hospital, showed me how to work the equipment like oxygen tanks and wheelchairs. It was a wonderful experience. I only broke down once because one patient was being mean to me and telling me that I was doing everything wrong and such. He was an elder and was just being a jerk! I'm pushing this guy around and he's criticizing me! I wanted to push him into the street! But, I didn't. Eventually, I got him to his destination, and went back to the office. That's when I started crying. The CNAs said if I had another patient like that, that I could call them and make them do it. I never had another patient like that again.
These people were really caring. They found out about my little starving problem and always made me go to the cafeteria or they brought something for me. I just wanted to cry but I never liked to eat and I never liked talking about it. They made me open up a bit and now I feel more confident because of them.
It was the start of the new school year, and I had to return my badge and say "goodbye" to the staff. They really liked me but I told them that I would volunteer again next summer. I told myself that this year, I would work harder and wouldn't slack because I was determined to become a doctor. Very determined. I met new teachers, I made some new friends, I saw old friends, I joined clubs, etc. I'm officially in 3 clubs and I'm in a sport for next year. I'm trying to get more involved. I have awesome grades. (Slightly upset about the B's. Must be my OCD) And I'm still alive in my drawings! You'll see all my drawings on DeviantArt. (Comment below if you would like to see them) I'll probably post up pictures here. Maybe a comic. Never know. I'll surprise you!
Ever since I started a new year of school, there haven't been any fights since last year. Must be the bumped up security. I'm also a bit of a (excuse my language) SMARTASS in one of my classes. Human Anatomy & Physiology. Most of these kids are a grade higher than me yet I answer most of the questions in the class. Because I do a lot of medical research and I love watching medical documentaries, I end up telling stories of these conditions. I remember we had to write an essay on Homeostasis in class and we needed examples of homeostatic imbalance. I used hemophilia and respiratory acidosis as examples. The teacher was impressed by the conditions I used because she's never mentioned those in class. She only mentioned diabetes, osteoporosis, and very simple injuries such as fractures. All in all, she was impressed by my advanced mind on medicine in general. One time, I was at the doctor's for my asthma checkup, and the doctor was very impressed by my advanced vocabulary. Sometimes when my family was sick, I would predict what the probably had and when they came back from the doctors, the diagnose they get from the doctors is what I usually predicted. One time my brother had kidney stones at 1 in the morning and my parents rushed him to the ER. While, they were getting ready, he was complaining about abdominal pains, his urine was tinted with blood, and he was nauseated. Both my parents had kidney stones, twice, and I NEVER had them. I was positive that it wasn't a stomachache and I just said that it was probably kidney stones since my parents had the exact same symptoms. They came back fro the ER and doctors said it was kidneys stones and they were all in one kidney. I was correct and the kidney stone eventually passed. God bless him.
I recently went to the doctor's for another asthma check-up and I wanted to talk about my nausea. My doctor diagnosed me with acid reflex last time, but the medication wasn't working whatsoever. She asked me what was going on and I said the usually, but she picked out a specific word I said: anxious. She recommended me to the psychologist and thought that my nausea was caused by anxiety. Half of it was. They said that they would do a GI on me in another appointment to check if it's not just anxiety. I did talk with my psychologist and she made me sign out these papers: one for depression and the other for anxiety. No depression, but anxiety was high. She diagnosed with GAD: generalized anxiety disorder. It all came together. She also diagnosed me with phobia of vomit. I was satisfied that I finally had someone who would listen to me. She gave me these two packets: one about anxiety and the other about panic attacks. I frequently had these. She said to try these for a few weeks and see if I could handle these. If I didn't, then it would turn into therapy. When she mentioned exposure therapy, I cried. I honestly didn't want to deal with that, but for now I'm stuck with doing it myself.
When the psychologist heard that I dealt with my friends' problems, she told me to stop. My anxiety is also caused not with my fear of vomit but by my friends. I've been around people with mental disorders so much that I ended up having panic attacks when they gave me too much. I told my best friend, who suffered depression, and she was pissed! I had to cam her down and I told her that she had to help me now. Her depression had subsided and now it was her turn to help me with my anxiety. She had a few problems when I stopped helping her so much, but she's holding up. Bless her heart.
SO~ that's my year so far! Wow, that was a lot to squeeze in. Phew. Well, you'll probably see some comics on her or something. Other than that, God bless you all and goodnight! I'm beat.
After my last school year, I signed up for volunteering at the hospital. One for humanitarian reasons and two I just love hospitals and the staff. No doubt about it. My mother's church friend who worked (or was it volunteered?) at a hospital, hooked me up and I was able to talk to the woman in charge of the teen volunteer program. She said I had to do some paperwork and the deadline was next week. Why didn't anyone tell me sooner?! However, I was still able to turn it in and wait for whether I was accepted or not. I was really anxious and a friend of mine, whose dream was to become a doctor as well, was volunteering at the Red Cross near her neighborhood. I was trying to get into Red Cross, but I was applying for a hospital that was EXTREMELY religious. It was a Catholic hospital. Anyways, I got an e-mail from the woman and she gave me a schedule of a meeting for when all the volunteers meet and get to set up their working hours. In other words, I was accepted. I wanted to scream for joy, but I was at school during the time. I ended up telling my parents about my acceptance and they were thrilled. So, we met up and I set up my schedule. I chose Patient Transport, the only thing was if I wanted to work for Patient Transport, I needed to take a CPR class. No problem. I was a little freaked out though because when I went inside and had to wait for the other people (half of them were volunteers for the hospital) I had to sit with dummies EVERYWHERE. It was like I was in a horror movie and I was the next experiment. Fortunately, I passed the class and the volunteers had another meeting for training and such. But, stupid me, we had a blood draw! And because I never ate, I didn't eat that day. Most of the volunteers were scared of the blood draw, and I volunteered to go first. I wasn't scared of blood, nor was I scared of needles. I was just REALLY scared of vomit. So, this woman is poking me with this needle, and she's having trouble finding a vein. I've always had that problem with doctors. They NEVER find a good vein. She poked me twice in the arm, and didn't get enough blood she wanted. She ended up poking me in the hand to see if she could get some blood from there. I started joking around, telling her, "Stop poking me! I'm turning into Swiss cheese." Everybody had a good laugh and loved my company. Unfortunately, I nearly fainted from the blood draw. I didn't faint, but I ALMOST did. They took me to a room to keep an eye on me. The woman in charge said that I was extremely pale and looked really out of it. Luckily, they gave me a snack and some water, and they were able to get some blood from me. Yippee! I bought my uniform which was a candy striper outfit, except it wasn't a dress. It was a tunic. I had to buy the shirt under, the scrub pants, and the white shoes. I had to wear this outfit every tike I worked. My family constantly made fun of me, calling me a barber, or one of those vendors that sold cotton candy. Ugh...so immature.
I started working the week afterwards and I've met a lot of volunteers and CNAs. Although, most of the volunteers were adult and I only had someone close to my age. Although, she ended up turning 18 and was officially an adult, so I was the only teen volunteer. The volunteers and CNAs were very nice to me, and helped me get from destination to destination, showed me the hospital, showed me how to work the equipment like oxygen tanks and wheelchairs. It was a wonderful experience. I only broke down once because one patient was being mean to me and telling me that I was doing everything wrong and such. He was an elder and was just being a jerk! I'm pushing this guy around and he's criticizing me! I wanted to push him into the street! But, I didn't. Eventually, I got him to his destination, and went back to the office. That's when I started crying. The CNAs said if I had another patient like that, that I could call them and make them do it. I never had another patient like that again.
These people were really caring. They found out about my little starving problem and always made me go to the cafeteria or they brought something for me. I just wanted to cry but I never liked to eat and I never liked talking about it. They made me open up a bit and now I feel more confident because of them.
It was the start of the new school year, and I had to return my badge and say "goodbye" to the staff. They really liked me but I told them that I would volunteer again next summer. I told myself that this year, I would work harder and wouldn't slack because I was determined to become a doctor. Very determined. I met new teachers, I made some new friends, I saw old friends, I joined clubs, etc. I'm officially in 3 clubs and I'm in a sport for next year. I'm trying to get more involved. I have awesome grades. (Slightly upset about the B's. Must be my OCD) And I'm still alive in my drawings! You'll see all my drawings on DeviantArt. (Comment below if you would like to see them) I'll probably post up pictures here. Maybe a comic. Never know. I'll surprise you!
Ever since I started a new year of school, there haven't been any fights since last year. Must be the bumped up security. I'm also a bit of a (excuse my language) SMARTASS in one of my classes. Human Anatomy & Physiology. Most of these kids are a grade higher than me yet I answer most of the questions in the class. Because I do a lot of medical research and I love watching medical documentaries, I end up telling stories of these conditions. I remember we had to write an essay on Homeostasis in class and we needed examples of homeostatic imbalance. I used hemophilia and respiratory acidosis as examples. The teacher was impressed by the conditions I used because she's never mentioned those in class. She only mentioned diabetes, osteoporosis, and very simple injuries such as fractures. All in all, she was impressed by my advanced mind on medicine in general. One time, I was at the doctor's for my asthma checkup, and the doctor was very impressed by my advanced vocabulary. Sometimes when my family was sick, I would predict what the probably had and when they came back from the doctors, the diagnose they get from the doctors is what I usually predicted. One time my brother had kidney stones at 1 in the morning and my parents rushed him to the ER. While, they were getting ready, he was complaining about abdominal pains, his urine was tinted with blood, and he was nauseated. Both my parents had kidney stones, twice, and I NEVER had them. I was positive that it wasn't a stomachache and I just said that it was probably kidney stones since my parents had the exact same symptoms. They came back fro the ER and doctors said it was kidneys stones and they were all in one kidney. I was correct and the kidney stone eventually passed. God bless him.
I recently went to the doctor's for another asthma check-up and I wanted to talk about my nausea. My doctor diagnosed me with acid reflex last time, but the medication wasn't working whatsoever. She asked me what was going on and I said the usually, but she picked out a specific word I said: anxious. She recommended me to the psychologist and thought that my nausea was caused by anxiety. Half of it was. They said that they would do a GI on me in another appointment to check if it's not just anxiety. I did talk with my psychologist and she made me sign out these papers: one for depression and the other for anxiety. No depression, but anxiety was high. She diagnosed with GAD: generalized anxiety disorder. It all came together. She also diagnosed me with phobia of vomit. I was satisfied that I finally had someone who would listen to me. She gave me these two packets: one about anxiety and the other about panic attacks. I frequently had these. She said to try these for a few weeks and see if I could handle these. If I didn't, then it would turn into therapy. When she mentioned exposure therapy, I cried. I honestly didn't want to deal with that, but for now I'm stuck with doing it myself.
When the psychologist heard that I dealt with my friends' problems, she told me to stop. My anxiety is also caused not with my fear of vomit but by my friends. I've been around people with mental disorders so much that I ended up having panic attacks when they gave me too much. I told my best friend, who suffered depression, and she was pissed! I had to cam her down and I told her that she had to help me now. Her depression had subsided and now it was her turn to help me with my anxiety. She had a few problems when I stopped helping her so much, but she's holding up. Bless her heart.
SO~ that's my year so far! Wow, that was a lot to squeeze in. Phew. Well, you'll probably see some comics on her or something. Other than that, God bless you all and goodnight! I'm beat.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)