goiter your room!

So, this was my day...

When I had the septoplasty procedure done in 2009, I had hoped it would finally get rid of the protruding lump that had been coming and going for years.

Well, that didn't happen.  But this did.

The sudden growth must have been in response to the surgery.  Eventually, it flattened out.  But only for a while.  It eventually came back.  It didn't get as large as it did following the septoplasty but it got large enough to be noticeable and unlike how it would inflate and flatten prior to the procedure, it never flattened back out.  It turned firm, also.

I was disappointed with the results because I really hoped the septoplasty would help but the lump actually seemed worse after.  I spoke to the doctor who performed the septoplasty and he said removing the lump was a definite possibility but there were some possible complications, such as damaging my vocal cords.  I also watched an episode of one of those mystery diagnosis programs where a woman had a lump removed from her neck and it paralyzed her face.  It was a different kind of lump than mine and in a different location but it still worried me.

So, I let it go.  I didn't want to lose my voice or the use of one half of my facial muscles and so I thought I would just live with it.  It was noticeable but it's not like it was jutting out of my throat farther than my chin was.  I thought I could accept it.

A few years down the line, it seems to have gotten slightly larger.  And there have been times when it's been sore.  It never affected my breathing or swallowing but the pain did worry me.  Was it becoming infected again and was that going to make it larger, harder?  Was there a possibility it could turn cancerous?

Mom and I eventually decided to see yet another doctor.  I had seen so many previously and the whole process was frustrating.  No one was ever able to exactly pinpoint was the lump was, only guesses of some kind of cyst.  And one wanted to cut it out immediately and then another says that should be a last resort and another says all this stuff about vocal cord damage and it was frustrating.  But what would one more opinion hurt?

So, I made an appointment with yet another ENT and after explaining my history with the lump and my history with all the doctors I had seen, the guy came in with a thick head of gray hair that swooped down to his ears.  He prodded the lump and determined what a lot of others had said: that it was either a branchial cleft cyst or a thyroglossal duct cyst.  Of course, the positioning of my lump didn't match up with the traditional placement of those other cysts but I am an exceptional dude, I guess.

He also recommended removing it and then I expressed my concerns about vocal cord damage and facial paralysis.  He scoffed at the paralysis, stating the woman I saw on tv had a different problem than I did and that I shouldn't be affected that way.  I knew I didn't have the same kind of situation she did but, just as the lump wasn't in the spot you'd normally find those kinds of cysts, what if my nerves were all jumbled up as well?  What if they went to dig that baby out and they cut a nerve and I end up looking like Mary Jo Buttafuoco?

Despite my reservations on the facial paralysis, he did admit there could be complications with the placement of the cyst in relation to my voice box.  He ordered a CT scan for me, said to come back and we'd discuss the results.

So, I went to another building and a guy put an IV in me and injected me with a dye that would highlight all the veins around my throat.  It felt like he was injecting me with hot bath water.  I felt it rush through my chest and spread to my arms and legs.  It wasn't the best feeling but it wasn't painful.  He also asked where the lump was so he could put a marker on it so the area would be visible on the scans.  I lifted my chin and pointed to it and he said, "Oh, well, yeah, I can definitely see that!  Most people have to push on it to find it.  That's nice and visible."

Eh.

I was laid down on a table, lifted into a gigantic circular machine, told not to swallow and then they scanned my throat up real good and I was done.

Went back to the ENT and he showed me slices of my skull, which was awesome, and told me what we were all fearing:  the cyst is pretty close to my voice box.  He admitted doing that kind of operation was out of his skill range, which I appreciated, and he referred me to a doctor three hours away who is more specialized in that area.

I was a bit disappointed because I didn't want to have to go that far to have the surgery and the fact that it was close to my voice box worries me that it will complicate surgery.  What if I lose my voice?  What if I end up sounding like Mickey Mouse?  And of course, there's still the fear of Buttafuoco face.

The ENT seemed like he was trying to reassure me.  He said, "It's not an emergency or anything.  You've had this thing for years so it doesn't have to come out right away but I know you probably don't like it being there.  You're a good-looking guy and you don't want that thing poking out but it's not as bad as you probably think it is."

I thought to myself, "Tell that to the guy who injected me with the dye."

So, now I just have to talk to my work to find out when I can take some time off and as soon as I find out, I can let the doctor know and they can make the arrangements to slit my throat.

The only problem is I have to use my paid time off from work for the recovery, which is definitely not how I planned to use that time.  I'm not thrilled to spend my vacation time in bed with a bandage around my throat, coming off an anesthesia high.  And that's if everything goes well.  I might have to pull an Adele and go on vocal rest, or even worse, try to stimulate my nerves so I don't go slack-jawed.

But, this really does have to be done.  I think, either way, I'm going to be deformed.  I can have a nice scar, a lump, or a paralyzed face.  Congratulations, Brannon, you might just become a mute monster.

choices

I've been dieting and exercising since January 1st and so far I've lost 14 pounds.  And I feel like crap.

As I've mentioned, if I can't have my favorite foods, I get irritable and every thing and every person I come across only serve to exacerbate my frustration with a lack of pizza and pasta.  My body aches from the workouts (even though I stretch thoroughly before and after) and I don't feel like I'm losing the weight fast enough.

It's actually ridiculous because I'm losing weight at a great pace, averaging around 2 pounds a week, which is low and slow and the way to go.  But it just still sucks because I have the mentality that every time I turn down a slice of cheesecake, I should automatically lose 10 pounds as a reward because, let's face it, it's hard to say no to cheesecake (or insert your favorite dessert/food of choice).

But, that's what I've been doing.  I've been turning down cheesecake slices and trips to Mexican restaurants.  I've been eating less and eating healthier.  I have not drastically changed my diet but I have cut out 99% fast food consumption and have began to decrease my portion size for my meals.  And I've been working out every single day (except for designated off days included in my workout plans) and I'm pretty proud of that, especially considering where I came from at the end of the year, which was basically me sitting around and not moving whatsoever and eating garbage all day long.

And I think that's pretty healthy.  Normally, when I get on a health kick, when the light switch in my mind flips up, I go hard, eliminating all junk and sweets, eating tiny portions and guzzling water, essentially shocking my system.  I used to punish myself for over eating, feeling guilty for the rest of the day and over exercising to the point of queasiness.

But not this time around.  I'm really trying to do this responsibly and not go on a crash diet or exercise frenzies.  I think a part of it is because I am actually still trying to get into the right frame of mind for weight loss.  It's like the light switch is stuck in the middle.  The light is on, just dimmed, flickering.  That's not necessarily a bad thing.  I'm not being crazy about this whole thing.  I'm just trying to be conscious of what I'm doing to myself.

The other part, however, is because I just don't feel like I have it in me anymore to be super strict about dieting and exercise.  I'm vapor with no substance and I cannot move anything.  I've just been solely concentrating on not dissipating entirely.  And with that focus comes a half-hearted concentration on other goals, including 70% exertion during exercise and an extra bite or two of bread.

masokissed

"I am a man that gets lost in a blush and a sigh
You’re nothing rare, I get snagged and thrown back all the time
But I’ll give you this much, I can’t slip your crooked smile
It’s always the one’s you can’t taste that you’ll never deny..."
-Sacha Sacket, Cruel Attempt

So...there's this girl...

Honestly, I don't even want to make a big deal out of this because it isn't a big deal but I just need to get it out because it's becoming too inflated in my head and that's what happens when I don't write what I'm feeling.  It starts as a seed in my brain and the more I put off writing about it, the more it expands as I keep thinking about it and I keep thinking about it because I can't write about it and so it grows, most of the time beyond what is necessary or relevant.

I've already blown this way out of proportion in my mind so I'm just gonna put it out there and then be done with it.

This girl is peculiar.  I can't quite place her in any of my categories I create for people I interact with on a regular basis.  She could be a friend but I don't believe in friendship.  I could have a crush on her but I don't believe in that, either.  I would call her an acquaintance but that doesn't seem quite right, almost like it's not enough.  So, where does she fit?

To keep it real, I think that I may have forced myself into thinking about her so much.  If I was alive, I might have a thing for her.  But I'm not.  And I don't.  Yet, I do think I am that lonely that I will make up feelings for someone just to feel like a normal, functioning adult with connections to other people.

And it's sick. 

She's pretty and educated and we have the same sense of humor and love for food and distaste for people.  Okay, I have more of a distaste for people but certain groups of two-faced banshees get on her nerves sometimes, too, so I think that counts.  And I can make her laugh and I enjoy making her laugh.  And...I don't know.  I kind of like being around her.  She, uh, sort of kind of, um, makes me smile.  I suppose all of those symptoms would equal a crush but I don't have a crush on her.  I'm above all of that (or below, depending on how you want to look at it) but I suppose she's somehow slipped into my consciousness anyway.

I don't like her, though.  I've come to the realization over the years that I am simply not wired that way.  I can't feel anything for anyone.  I've tried and the few attempts I made ended disastrously.  I'm just not meant to connect to others.  It's been hard coming to terms with it but I'm farther along than I've ever been and one day I think I'll fully accept it.  Until then, I'll just have to struggle with incidents such as these.  Maybe it's just another case of me not accepting myself, lying to myself to grasp for some sense of normality.  But I'll never be normal.  I'll never live the dream, get married, or have children.  Mostly because I don't want to, but also because I simply can't.

I guess I just latched onto her because she would be my type if I could feel anything real for anyone and I made myself think she could be something special just so I could have a record of a girl that I could say I once liked.  So I could have a history, something to talk about, something to look back on and reminisce over instead of an empty landscape, blank page after blank page in my little black book.

I don't think I'm attracted to her.  She's pretty and I like her style and I like...I don't know, seeing her.  Being around her.  But there's something there that holds me back.  I honestly don't think I'm holding myself back.  I try to step outside of myself and look at things logically.  I'm not making myself not like her.  I just don't.  I think I'm catching myself making myself like her.  Nah, I'm forcing feelings.  I'm so desperate to try not to believe that I am unattached that I will cling to something that doesn't exist, feign attraction that's not there.

But I think about what the definition of attraction is.  I'm not really sure.  The way I usually determine if I'm attracted to a girl is to ask myself if I would want to kiss her.  I don't know if that's good criteria to go by because, as we all know by now, I have the social skills of a twelve-year-old boy.  But I am a picky kisser.  I won't lock lips with just anyone and I don't want to lock lips with the majority of girls I've come across.

But I think I would kiss her.

feline valentine

True love will not falter.  Even through a window screen.

backlit

"And maybe I just set aside the fact that you were broken-hearted..."
-Alkaline Trio, Sorry About That

It's quite obvious to me that I've changed.  Can you tell?  I'm not even sure you care, or even keep up.  But just in case, let me fill you in.

I occasionally look back on entries I've written and it's almost as if I'm reading a different person's diary.  Not only does my memory fail me, causing me to forget my writing over the years, but I've realized my tone has changed dramatically since I first began recording my thoughts.  It seems my heart has failed me as well.

Naturally, things will change over the course of seven years but I always hoped the changes would be positive, that I'd be able to chronicle the beneficial shifts in my life, my maturity, my growth.  I never thought I'd end up writing down my decline and detailing my death.

I was nineteen and new.  I was slightly cynical but who doesn't have a little angst at that age?  The difference between me then and me now was the me then had a bit of hope hiding underneath the negativity.  I had a vision of better things.  I looked to the future to save me from my small town and from myself.  I knew I didn't belong and it was only a matter of time before I could escape and get out and be the me that I knew was deep down inside, hidden in the shame and secrecy and gossip of the town.  Thinking about the day when I'd be able to rid myself of small-minded conservatives and immerse myself in a world of art and culture helped me get through the days.  And so did you.

I had something to look forward to each day when I woke up and wanted to sink my head further into the pillow, grasping at the sheets and burying myself in them.  I had my future to focus on and I had you to talk to.  I was naive and free from the world's pain.  I was sad but I was not consumed by it.  There was a spark there, a light in my eyes, a dream of something better on the horizon.  I was only wading in the water of worry, not yet drowning.

There was so much potential back then as well.  So much passion for other people, for my art, for my writing.  I thought I was a drawer.  I used it to calm myself when I was stressed.  And then I began stressing about my drawings.  For whatever reason, I became obsessed with being better than I was capable of and no charcoal sketch was sufficient, no portrait was perfect.  I needed another outlet.  Blogging was just becoming popular at the time so I thought I'd give it a shot.  And that's how I discovered writing.  That's how I discovered you.

Sometimes I'll read through an old entry of mine and it saddens me to see how much I've changed, how much I've declined.  Do you see it, too?  Have you  noticed how all the good has seeped out of me like my skin has sprung a leak, how the spark is dimming, how the light is falling out of my eyes?  I'm shriveling up in the fetal position, shedding everything I thought was important, losing the love and the talent, going out just as blank as I came in.

I think about my transformation and feel astounded how much we can change, how our hearts and minds can be molded by the smallest of events, how music and people and environments can shape who we are as humans.  How we unintentionally shape ourselves.  How we unintentionally shape each other, hurt each other, kill each other.  I think about those changes a lot.  I think about the long drives at night, the songs we shared, the conversations, how you navigated the blood and the bone to get to the meat of me.  I think about the poems I wrote for you and how I hoped you were happy.  I think about how special you were to me, how I put so much energy into trying to express the things I felt for you.