Monthly Archives: April 2012

And now I have Typhoid Fever, practically.

And by “practically”, I mean that I don’t technically have Typhoid Fever, but for a day or two I was pretty sure I had Typhoid Fever and my symptoms are remarkably similar to Typhoid Fever (according to the world wide interweb) so really whether I technically have Typhoid Fever or not is not the point.  I practically have it.

Technically I have a kidney infection.

A really horribly bad kidney infection!  With fevers and chills and fatigue (oh my!) and muscle/joint pain and sick tummy.

I’ve had it for, ummmm, almost three weeks.  But I just went to the Doctor on Friday, naturally.

Why the delay in seeking medical attention?

On account of how I’m not that smart is the answer to that good question.

Let’s see.

Instead of going to the Doctor I spent weeks trying to figure out what was wrong with me by doing two things that are almost never helpful (a) talking (read: complaining) to friends about it and (b) researching medical stuff on the internet.

Here are the medical conditions that I tentatively diagnosed myself with over the past two weeks:

  • Cancer, obviously.
  • Fibromyalgia — the muscle/joint pain was truly horrific and I still might have this….
  • MS — because I’m from Colorado and everyone gets MS in Colorado plus I have some symptoms.
  • Chronic Fatigue Syndrome — I was really really tired.
  • Flu
  • Strep throat — I had a sore throat the first week into this.
  • Menopause — well, pre-menopause — I thought I had that menopause fog + extreme fatigue + I thought I was having hot flashes when it was just a deadly high fever…..  I’m not kidding.
  • Rheumatoid Arthritis — have I mentioned how much my muscles and joints hurt?  A lot.
  • Dengue Fever — actually a friend suggested that I might have this and, of course, after reading about it I was convinced that I totally had it.
  • Malaria — I have none of the symptoms, but it seemed possible since I live in a tropical place.
  • Drug Addiction — because I might have taken a few pain pills that were not prescribed to me.  I was taking them for menstrual cramps.  Which is like amputating your arm because of a scratch – overkill.  Anyway, then I stopped taking them and the horrible muscle/joint pain set in and I was all – Fuck!  Withdrawal symptoms!  Now I know exactly what heroin addicts must feel like when they try to stop!  Which, in hindsight is hilarious and sad.
  • Brain tumor — on account of the incredibly awful and unrelenting headache that lasted for fucking ever.  In fact, it’s back again today after a brief respite.  So the potential brain tumor is still on the table.
  • Depression — Ahhhh, my old friend Depression.  Here’s how I feel when I’m really depressed:  headachey + no energy + body aches and pains + foggy thinking.  And here’s how I’ve felt the past few weeks:  headachey + no energy + excruciating body pain + foggy thinking.  Oh and a HUGE FEVER – which should’ve tipped me off that I wasn’t just reaching a new low in my experience of Depression and it probably would have, if it had occurred to me that I was having a high fever, instead of occurring to me that I was having menopause-related hot flashes.  Also, I’m not even menopausal.
  • Lyme disease — turns out they don’t really have that in my part of Mexico.  STILL – the body pain?
  • Meningitis — the headache was really fucking bad.  And my neck hurt.  And I had a fever.
  • The Plague — don’t laugh.  You can still totally get it.  Just probably not here.


A friend finally got tired of listening to me moan and groan and insisted that I go see a Doctor fortheloveofGod.

And while I was at the Doctor’s office I remembered this little tidbit of (it turns out) crucially important information:  about 3 weeks ago I thought I had a bladder infection, so I took some antibiotics that my Aunt had given me (I know) for three days, after which I concluded that everything was fine…..

The smart Doctor (who appears to be 12, but tells me his son is celebrating his 15th birthday soon) suggests that we do some blood tests and a urinalysis.  And I say “what are you testing for?”  And he says “Dengue Fever, Typhoid Fever [and some other stuff]….”  And I’m all “What?  Typhoid?”  And he was all “Yes, your symptoms are consistent with Typhoid.”  So I went home and researched Typhoid Fever and became 1000000% convinced that I had it.

And I might have made a big deal about it and told my sister about it and made it sound all dramatic.  Not that I had to do much to make it sound dramatic, I mean, you don’t hear “I have Typhoid Fever” a lot.  And then I told some other people who I hoped would feel sorry for me and maybe feel bad that I had been suffering while they were just going about their lives and not calling or writing me.  And that kind of worked on everyone except my fucking sassy, Virgo sister who was all “shut up, you’re not dying right now….”  Which is what I love about her.  And also what pisses me off about her — sometimes I just want a little bit of loving attention.  Is that so wrong?

Imagine my surprise, then, when I went back to get the results of the lab tests and the smart Doctor says that I don’t, in fact, have an exotic tropical disease, but I do have a bad infection and it is most likely in my kidneys.  And also that it is the result of the bladder infection that I didn’t treat properly.  Oopsie.

Color me embarrassed.

And color my sassy, Virgo sister amused.

I started the antibiotics last night.  I can’t say that I feel amazingly better today, but things are looking up.

I haven’t been out of the house yet today, but by God I just wrote a blog post, didn’t I?  🙂



p.s.  i don’t really have a p.s., but it’s tradition, so……



Filed under Uncategorized

Thirteen things on Friday the 13th. Yes, another fucking list.


I think I’m doing pretty good to have already published one list-less post this week, under the circumstances.  And the circumstances are that I CAN’T FUCKING WRITE.

So here’s another fucking list:

1.  I realize “fucking list” is ambiguous.

2.  I re-wrote my “ABOUT” page today.  That was hard.  I hadn’t revised it since the very first day of my blog – you know, back when I had a job, my artistic genius mom (with great hair!) was alive and my son still sometimes lived at home.  Heavy sigh.  So many changes!  Big ones!

3.  I went scuba diving on Tuesday for the first time this year.  It was my friend Linda’s first dive ever.  She’s in her 60’s!  She did so well and I am so amazed at her passion for life.  I hope I’m still trying new things when I’m in my 60’s.  I also hope I look as good in a swimsuit as she does.  Holy shit.

4.  Diving helps me put things into perspective.  I can’t really put it into words right now, it just does.  The ocean is vast, I’m small.

5.  Then I got a really bad sore throat/head cold and laid in bed for two days.  Being sick is no fun.  I wanted my mommy.  Which is weird because my mom was not the kind of mom who took really good care of you when you got sick.  She would be like “here’s some Coke and some grapes, call me if you need anything” and then she wouldn’t answer her phone.  STILL.  At least I used to get to tell her I was sick and she would at least feign sympathy.  I miss that.

6.  On the other hand I got to watch a bunch of Six Feet Under episodes.


8.  I have cable (“Cablemas”) here in Mexico, but I don’t have many U.S. channels and I can’t figure out how to increase the volume on my TV so I never watch it.  Note to self:  Cancel Cablemas!  I rely on iTunes for my television/movie viewing.  Which is great and also very expensive after awhile.  I need to figure something else out.  If I stay here I will look into getting some kind of satellite service.  That’s what all the Canadians seem to be doing.

9.  Have I mentioned that there are lots of Canadians here?  There are.  And now I kind of wish I was Canadian.  It has a certain cachet.  Exotic, but not too exotic.

10.  And I read the book “Happy Baby” by Stephen Elliott. (No, that’s not an affiliate link, I don’t know how to do affiliate links)  I loved the book, but it’s definitely not for everyone.  It’s disturbing.  While it’s not the entire thrust of the story (or maybe it is) the main character spends way too much time being bounced around the juvenile justice system — foster care, group homes, locked facilities and horrible bad shit happens and his guardian ad litems (3 or 4 of them) sucked.  Which triggers all my shit about being a guardian ad litem and feeling like nothing I did could help and that the entire system sucks.  The author was in the delinquency system from age 13-18, so I’m guessing much of what he’s writing about is based on his real life experiences.  Anyway.  If you dont mind graphic violence, drug use, BDSM and straight up sexual abuse, check it out.  Let me know what you think.

11.  I haven’t been in the sun since Tuesday and my tan sucks.

12.  I’m wondering if 2012 is going to be the year that I finally get my shit together.  Whatever that means.  It’s already mid-April.  Or, it’s only mid-April.

13.  Wouldn’t it be funny if I finally did get everything together and then the world really did end on December 21, 2012?  No.  No it wouldn’t.



p.s.  it just occurred to me that perhaps i should use the whole 2012/end of the world thing as motivation to write.  i mean, i want to write a book before i die, right?  who am i kidding?  even that won’t work.

p.s.s.  note: i haven’t been locked up inside my house for two days.  i had to go out to get popsicles.  twice.  🙂


Filed under My Big Book of Me, Writing and Not-Writing

Post-Moratorium-Kim is a lot like Pre-Moratorium-Kim, it turns out.

I wish I hadn’t written that last post on the Thursday of Mysteries.

I suppose I could just delete it and pretend like it never happened, but that seems disingenuous.  Plus some nice people commented on it, so just making it disappear seems rude.



It’s been bothering me.  A lot.  Especially the part about how it seems like I hate men.  Or penises.  Or both.

The truth is that I don’t hate men or their related equipment.  At all.

I think what I hate right now is me.

(That’s a tough one to say out loud…)

I hate how I came up with this “Moratorium” idea, then substantially complied with it (lawyer words for “I didn’t even do what I agreed to do, but I mostly did it and I think I get credit for that.”) and then it was over and – voila!I’m still the same as pre-Moratorium-Kim, except with another year of sad shit to come to terms with.

Pre-Moratorium-Kim had good intentions for the year of not using love/the search for love to avoid other important shit.  That Kim thought that she would focus on loving herself and loving her life and she would deal with all sorts of nagging issues that she had been avoiding for so long and then she would emerge at the end of the Moratorium as someone much better equipped to find/be in a relationship.  With a man, who has a penis, which she doesn’t and never has, hated.


Silly Pre-Moratorium-Kim….

In her defense, Pre-Moratorium-Kim had no clue about what those 12 months of Moratorium were going to bring.  She had no idea that her artistic genius Mom (with great hair) would have the sneaky kind of ovarian cancer that goes to the brain and then fucks things up from there.  She didn’t know about the brain surgery, the paralysis, the Gamma Knife surgery… She didn’t know that she was going to become a for real full-time caregiver.  She didn’t know that the time she had imagined spending doing meaningful things to figure out her own shit was going to be spent trying to make life bearable for her sweet mommy and/or spent lost in angst over how much she resented the burden of trying to make life bearable for her sweet mommy and then more angst about the awful shameful resentment.  She didn’t know how her son’s graduation from High School was going to pull the last remnants of the rug that had been her life out from under her.  That it would leave her reeling and unmoored and so, so sad about things she can never change.  She didn’t know about the packing up the house and putting life in storage.  She didn’t know about the homecoming in Mexico, the fall, the broken hip, the midnight flight back to the USA.  She didn’t know about the hip surgery, the horrible rehab center, the night her sweet mommy would ask her if she was dying and she would reply “no” because she was unable to comprehend that “yes” might be the answer.  She didn’t know how it would feel when the not-knowing-something turns into knowing-something and that something is that your sweet mommy is dying in front of your eyes.  Pre-Moratorium-Kim had no idea that instead of spending time figuring her own shit out, she would be getting up in the middle of the night to slip into/onto her mom’s hospital bed and crying on her mostly unconscious mom’s shoulder begging her to stay and telling her it was ok to go.  She didn’t know her Mom was really going to go.

I feel a little bit sad for Pre-Moratorium-Kim, she had such high hopes, such good intentions and then look at all that happened instead.

And now I hate myself a little less for being in pretty much exactly the same situation as Pre-Moratorium-Kim.  We didn’t really have a chance, did we?  It was months upon months of reacting to what was happening with Mom.  Maybe I should give myself a break for not fixing my own life last year.  I just hope that all the not-fixing-my-life made my Mom’s last year a little less awful.



p.s.  it’s so weird how i start out writing one thing and end up somewhere completely different.  i don’t know if this post makes sense to anyone but me, but i guess that is ok.  i feel a smidge better than i did when i started writing.

p.p.s.  i do really hate that Thursday of Mysteries post.

p.p.p.s.  i had Easter dinner at cantina habanero’s here in pto. morelos.  cheeseburger and fries.  very strange.  i am really missing my family right now.  on the other hand, i went scuba diving for the first time in 3 years yesterday!  it was amazing.  i love being underwater. (and being able to breathe while underwater)


Filed under Cancer sucks., grief, The Caregiver with the Dragon Tattoo, Writing and Not-Writing

Apparently today is the Thursday of Mysteries. Why I’m publishing this “post” being the first. Mystery, that is.

The internet tells me that today is no ordinary Thursday.


Apparently it is one of the following: Maundy Thursday, Holy Thursday, Covenant Thursday, Great and Holy Thursday, Sheer Thursday and/or Thursday of Mysteries.

I guess today is special to people who are Christian because it’s a Christian Holy Day Commemorating the Last Supper of Jesus Christ with the Apostles.

I just like the name.




Just knowing that it’s the Thursday of Mysteries makes me feel like I need to write something, even if it’s just another bullshit list:

The First Annual THURSDAY OF MYSTERIES list of things I find mysterious and/or other stuff:

1.  Why do boys love their equipment so much?  I mean, seriously.  I’ve never met a man who didn’t exude some sense of pride when talking about/using/showing/touching/scratching his equipment.  I like my vagina.  I do.  But I don’t feel the need to talk about it (very much) to anyone and especially not to someone who doesn’t have one.  Like, it’s not something I want to lead with, if you know what I mean.  I raised a son and I don’t remember ever emphasizing to him how great his penis is and how he should try to work it into casual conversation.  That would be weird.

2.  This is on my mind for a couple of reasons – (a) the Moratorium is over and I am once again reminded that men like for me to act like I think their penis, in particular, stuns me with it’s unique beauty and that no matter what else I’m doing at the time, if I would only just look at their penis, my life would be better and I would want to have sex  and (b)  my morning beach walk now involves walking past the newly-opened clothing optional swingers resort (NOT KIDDING, YO) in town and just the other day I was lucky enough to catch a beach volleyball game in progress.  A mostly nekkid beach volleyball game.  Oh, the pride and joy those boys had just knowing that their penies were on display in front of God and everyone else.  I’m sorry dudes, even if I think you’re hot and even if, somehow, your penis in particular is so gorgeous that I can’t drag my eyes away even for one minute, the instant that thing starts flopping around wildly while you attempt to spike the volleyball it’s all I can do to stop myself from laughing out loud.  Not “LOL”.  Real laughing.  Out loud.  They are silly.

3.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love men.  And that is another mystery.  Why do I love men?  What is not a mystery is that the first thing I love about a man is generally not looking at/talking about his penis.  I want him to have one, of course.  And I would like it if the one he has is, ummm, not itsy-bitsy (there, I said it, size matters.) but I don’t even want to know about that if his mind doesn’t turn me on.

4.  Back to the nekkid beach volleyball game.  Ummmm, here’s another mystery:  why do some women enjoy getting sand in their cookies? I mean, they must enjoy it because there’s really no other reason to play beach volleyball with a naked cookie.   It’s basically like putting a sponge into the very fine beach sand.  Ouch.   It’s not like a guy who wasn’t interested in you after seeing the whole rest of your body naked is suddenly going to go “Jesus, look at that cookie…”  Amiright?  Yikes!  Hopefully the resort offers a power washer for post-game use. (I really hope my son is continuing to ignore my blog, if not, sorry honey!)

5.  Anyway.

6.  “It must be your skin, I’m sinking in.”  Why am I in love with the song “Glycerine”?   I don’t even know who sings it.  Wait, it’s Bush.  (So apparently I have a theme going here today — just kidding, no one has a bush anymore.)  I don’t know when the song came out, but I’ve been playing it obsessively for at least 10 years.   I’m in love with the lyrics.  “I’m never alone, I’m alone all the time.” Oh MAN, I just googled it and (a) I had some of the lyrics wrong, but I like my version better and (b) OMG, I didn’t even know that this beautiful man sang this song, I don’t know how I feel about that. (Oh holy fuck, he’s singing it in the rain…. you know how I feel about precipitation….!!)

7.  “When kindness falls like rain, it washes her away.”  Speaking of lyrics and precipitation and mysteries, how is it that Adam Duritz (don’t tell me you don’t know who Adam Duritz is… just don’t) hasn’t realized that he’s my soul mate yet?  I’ve known it for years.  I want to kiss his eyes and take his whole fucked-up brain and put it inside me.  Not down there, just inside.  And then I would have two fucked up brains, but one of  them would write the most exquisitely painful lyrics:

Surprise surprise I miss your hair, you miss my eyes

And all this solitude is my confidence eroding

So we slide inside of someone’s mouth and someone’s eyes

Until there’s a sound of something intimate exploding…

(Counting Crows “Carriage” – Hard Candy)

8.  Am I the only person who goes to concerts and is pretty sure that the singer is singing directly to her?  July 2009, Counting Crows,  Red Rocks Amphitheater, Adam Duritz and Me.

(But the first time this happened was when I masqueraded as a security person during Prince’s sound check at the old McNichol’s Arena in Denver [November 3, 1988, if you must know…] and we [Prince and I, of course] totally had a moment before I was escorted out of the arena by the actual security people.)(This makes more sense when you know that I worked for the Denver Nuggets at the time and our offices were actually in the arena, hence my ability to “borrow” a red security jacket + walkie-talkie.)

9.  Why am I writing about music today?  I had no idea that was where this list was going, but as long as we are going there.  PRINCE!!!!

10.  How has it taken me 4+ hours to write this “post”?  (Answer:  youtube + google + rabbit holes)

Happy Thursday of Mysteries, y’all!



p.s. I don’t really know if I’m Christian.  Which probably doesn’t shock anyone, especially God.  But, for various reasons including the fact that I’m a cultural lemming, I tend to celebrate Christian holidays.  But I really don’t think anyone ever mentioned this whole “Thursday of Mysteries” holiday to me.   Which sucks, because hello, anyone who knows me knows that I just love mysteries.

p.p.s.  The real mystery is why the fuck I’m publishing this “post”…

p.p.p.s.  Which isn’t all that mysterious – I’ve been SO STUCK and had to write something, even if it’s all crap just to know that my brain can still spell words and put them into things like “sentences” and “paragraphs”.

p.p.p.p.s.  Plus I really wanted to get to Post Number 90.  And I did.  Woo-hoo.


Filed under My Big Book of Me, Things My Son Shouldn't Read, Uncategorized, Writing and Not-Writing