zombie vomit bag

"I have heard it said love endures all things, now I know that it's true, 
stronger than the grave, death can't put it out, here I am, the walking dead, 
still next to you..."
-Showbread, George Romero will be at our Wedding

We decorated Valentine bags at work so everyone could put goodies in them.  Everyone decorated their bags with sticker hearts and puff paint, which is all well and good but I wanted to do something a bit different.

 I designed my bag around the Showbread song George Romero will be at our Wedding.  It's about a zombie who vomits up a wedding ring and realizes he ate his wife.  He eventually finds her, zombified, and they stay together, despite them both being dead.  It's about how love can overcome all things, even death.  It's actually a really meaningful message beneath all the entrails. 

I wanted to draw a vomiting zombie on the bag but then I thought I'd put Photoshop to good use and designed the zombie dude in the program and printed him out.  I taped him to the bag, which gave a nice 3D effect.  And instead of just drawing vomit, I made it interactive so you can spin the vomit around.

 I also created a QR code which links to the song and on the back of the bag, I printed the song lyrics.  So you've got your physical, visual, and auditory interaction, which I thought was pretty neat.

Here's what the bag looks like.

my lorazepam says i'm happy for you

"We'll never be the same, never feel this way again
I'd give you anything but you want pain
 little water please, I taste you all over my teeth..."
-Jimmy Eat World, Just Tonight...

"She'll break your heart like she broke mine
bipolar, baby, make up your mind..."
-Forever the Sickest Kids, Bipolar, Baby

Wednesday at work, I had lunch with work girlfriend (WG) as we tend to do when we work the same shift.  Everything was fine and well until we clocked in to go back to work and a coworker walked toward us.  The coworker pointed to WG's hands and said, "Why are you hiding that?"

I looked over to see what the coworker was talking about and WG, who conveniently had her left hand covered with her right, uncovered lefty and held it up.

The coworker looked at me and said, "He did a good job, didn't he?"

Confused, I didn't reply.  I just looked at WG.  She held her left hand closer to me and pointed to a shiny silver ring.

"What's...that?" I asked, still confused.

"I'm engaged," WG said.

And my reaction went a little something like this:

"Da fuck?"

santa claws me in the face

Thursday afternoon, I put on my frayed trainers and headed out the door.  The weather was perfect for a good walk to I had to go out and enjoy it.  I knew I only had a few days of good weather left before the air turned too cool to go outside.

Things were great.  I wasn't too hot.  I wasn't too sweaty.  Ear buds were firmly in place, pumping music into my extremities.

And then the school bus passed me.

It's always awkward when vehicles pass me.  I can see people crane their necks to look through the rear view mirror at the bearded stranger walking down the dirt road.

It's worse when it's a bus filled with curious and obnoxious children.  That particular bus has passed me a few times and I always caught glimpses of smashed noses and oily forehead prints on the smudged glass.

Being the beautiful day it was, the bus windows were down to allow the sweet little bastards angels to enjoy the cool breeze.  As the bus rolled past, I saw a white ball whirl by me and hit the blades of grass at my feet.

I looked up and saw glowing brake lights as the bus skidded to a stop.  Through the blasting music, I heard the bus driver's booming voice spill over the open windows.  I surmised he was yelling at the littering little snot.  I was only feet from the bus so I slowed my pace.  I didn't want to pass by and risk being pelted with more paper or insults.

"What the hell is this guy doing?" I asked myself about the driver.  The bus just stood in the road, the brake lights illuminating my embarrassment.

Finally, I just turned around and walked in the opposite direction.  I heard the squeak of the tires as the bus started up again.  I didn't look back until I was down the hill.

Oh, why do I always find myself in these awkward situations?  I kept thinking what the kids must have been thinking.  "Hey, John, let's throw this piece of paper at the fat loser walking in the dirt road!"  I don't like being "that" guy, the one people think they can push around or make fun of.  Especially when it's a bunch of middle school shits playing the bully. 

I looped back around to the spot where I was almost hit with the wad of paper and found it on the ground.  I picked it up, smoothed it out and saw it was poorly colored paper Santa.

By the way, you did a crap job putting that Santa together, Pablo Prickasso.

I just wanted to burn some calories and clear my head, not catch a paper cut from Kris Kringle.  Thanks for the holiday cheer, Timmy. I hope you get coal and canker sores for Christmas. And people ask me why I don't like kids! 

chap flap

A few days ago, at work, a female coworker (FC) came up to me to get more change for her register.  I'd guess she's in her 50s but I think her smoking has played a part in her looks.  For all I know, she could be 36 but her face is a spiderweb of wrinkles underneath a dull gray bob of hair.  Her bright blue eyes are bloodshot inside a ring of thick clumped mascara.  She always smells of coffee and cigarettes, which probably contributes to her brown teeth.  She's also from Arizona so she's not a stuffy Southern prude so I know I can have fun with her.

FC:  "So, I bought some men's sleep pants the other day."

me:  "Oh yeah?"

FC:  "Yeah."  She waved her hands over her crotch.

me:  "Problem?"

FC:  "Well, I forgot about that front flap.  I'll have to sew that up.  It's chilly."

me:  "Oh, yeah.  A little breezy there?"

FC:  "Yeah!"

me:  "Chapped lips?"

FC:  "Huh?"

me:  "Nothing." 

halloween and stuff

Happy Halloween, boils and ghouls.  I carved a pumpkin on Sunday...or I attempted to.  It turned out crap 'cause I tried to get fancy with it by shading and highlighting and...no.  Carving isn't as easy as it might seem at first.  Maybe if I had a couple of pumpkins to practice with, I could have gotten the hang of it but my hand started cramping so I just gave up.  Anyway, here's some pictures of the gutting process.

Our stray cat who adopted us wanted to help.  "Here, gimme that knife.  Let me show you how to do it."

customer appreciation week, part 1

Y'all.  You just don't even know.

I had this crackhead come in to work Monday and she gave me all kinds of crap so naturally I wanted to write about it, okay?  Well, I never got around to it and Tuesday came along and I encountered more sewage.  So, I wanted to write about that and then on Wednesday, I had to deal with more obnoxious people.  And then Thursday!  So, why don't we just go through this week's offenders all together, shall we?

monday meth face
It wasn't even 9:00am yet when this sunken-cheeked skank straight out of an episode of COPS shows up and wants to exchange some shirts.  She looked really posh with her fuzzy pajamas and frizzy brown hair parted down the middle.  I ask if she had a receipt for the stuff she is returning and she said no.  Our policy is that we need to swipe their driver's license if they don't have a receipt.  It's that simple.

Well, you would have thought I asked her if she had a condom full of crack hidden up her twat 'cause she got so offended.  She didn't have it on her so she went back to her car.  She came back and said to her mother (who was with her), "I wish that dark headed lady was here...inaudible because I was walking back to the counter out of earshot...being made out like a thief."

Her mom didn't hear her either so she repeated herself and basically said that because I wanted to see her driver's license, I was making her out to be a thief and accusing her of stealing the stuff she was returning.  I went from zero to pissed in a nanosecond.

I looked at her with her shadow of a mustache, dangling nose hairs and sparkling nose stud and said, "Ma'am, I'm not accusing you of anything.  Our policy is that if you don't have your receipt, we need to see your driver's license.  That's just the procedure."

She looked down at the counter, scowling.  "Whatever.  My mother comes in here and shops all the time and has excellent credit."  What does that have to do with anything?

"I'm not doing anything wrong and I never said you stole this stuff.  Sorry I'm doing my job."

"Whatever."

Seconds later, as I'm exchanging this lady's merchandise, my supervisor comes up and I say, "Can you please tell this lady what the return policy is regarding merchandise without a receipt?"  She calmly told the lady what I told her and once again, her response was, "Whatever.  Fine.  Do what you gotta do."

After I finished the exchange, I bid the meth-laced lady a good day.  My co-worker was close by and heard the whole thing.  She also heard the lady still complaining in a nearby department.  Her mom was looking at dresses and she blurted out, "You better keep your receipt!  Better have your driver's license!"  What a bitch.  I mean, really, what a bitch.  Just being a bitch just to be one.

Moments later, my ultra religious co-worker came up to me and said in her low-pitched tunnel voice, "Brannon, I am so sorry you had to deal with that lady.  She was up at my counter crying.  She felt bad about what happened.  She has just gotten out of prison (OMG really? What a surprise!) and so she was sensitive about the driver's license thing.  She wanted me to tell you she was sorry."

I looked at my co-worker with a blank expression.  "Well, her being in jail is not my problem.  That doesn't give her the right to be rude.  Why can't she come apologize to me herself?"

"Yeah, she really should have," she responded.

I was still hot.  I wanted to say more, to vent my anger, but I knew she'd just look at me as a heathen.  What would Jesus do?  He'd forgive, of course, so I couldn't tell her what Bran would do, which is go slam her already busted face right into the counter.  I have no sympathy for that twitchy piece of trash.  She had no right to be so rude to me.  She ruined my day and the day hadn't even started!

I was doing my job, doing what I was supposed to do, and she comes in and gives me crap for following the rules?  I don't go to her job and knock the crack pipes out of her hands so she didn't have a reason to be so caustic with me.

If she was anxious about the driver's license situation she could have simply asked me why I needed to see it instead of storming off and assuming the worst.  But, in my extensive retail experience, when someone gets so defensive so quickly about being a thief or being dishonest, it usually means they are.  She has been in jail so point proven.

tuesday pee pants (the return of scatman)
Still reeling from my interaction with the lady the previous day, scatman came in to temporarily shift my feelings from anger to straight disgust.

To give a quick recap, he is the customer who came in a couple of weeks ago with extremely soiled pants on.  Tuesday, he shuffled in and this time, instead of smelling like dookie, he smelled like his clothing had been soaked in cat, dog, bear and bull urine and then laid out in the sun to air dry for a few weeks.  The smell was so awful that he literally stunk up my entire department although he only went to one section.  He left a stink trail so potent that it lingered long after he left.

And this time, it spread.

When he came in previously, he only affected me (of course) and two other coworkers.  But this time, he made his way to the front door and ran out of breath.  The unsuspecting coworker at the front door offered for him to sit down on the bench next to the entrance.  Soon, the smell hit her, too.  And the customers who all started making sour faces.

Meanwhile, I'm on the hunt for some air freshener.  I searched the whole store, leaving my department unattended.  I couldn't help it.  The smell had become personified, grown arms and legs and kicked me out of my work area.  I had no choice but to slay it with some smell-good spray. 

I'm really not trying to be cruel or make fun.  The man is in bad shape.  He was hunched over and couldn't shuffle very far without becoming fatigued.  And either he's so used to his own odors that he's immune to them or he's so out of it that he doesn't notice.  And that's sad.  And it seems even sadder that he doesn't have anyone to take care of his basic hygienic  needs because he clearly can't do it himself.  Even the lady at the front entrance who offered him the bench later told me he looked like the walking dead.

"Do you know his name?" she asked.

"No, why?"

"We'll probably see him in the obituary soon."

Dang.  I thought I was morbid. I never thought about him dying.  In fact, he'll probably stick around long enough to give my olfactory system a couple more good beatings before buying the farm.

This is getting too long so I'll put up a part two later so I can cover the rest of the week.    

my crotch looks like pinhead

While at work the other day, I came back from lunch and used the bathroom.  I looked down to unzip and realized I was already unzipped.  I thought it was kind of odd but assumed I must have forgotten to zip up the last time I went to the bathroom.  When I was done, I went to zip up and realized my zipper was down not because I had forgotten to zip up but because it was broken.

I darted to the desk behind my counter and called every department I could think of and asked them if they had any safety pins.  No one did.  I sneaked over to the break room where all the managers were having a conversation.  I didn't want to call to everyone's attention that my fly was wide open so I went back to the desk and found some straight pins.

Knowing it was a long shot, I weaved the pin between the two pieces of fabric, hoping it would keep my fly closed.  Not only did it not work but I poked...uh, myself...several times.

I had to go back to the conversing managers and ask them if they had any safety pins.

"Did your pants split?" one of the managers asked.

"Not exactly," I said.  "I did have a wardrobe malfunction, though.  My zipper just broke."

"Oh, gosh, yeah, let's see if we can find any."

A few minutes later, they scrounged up some safety pins for me and someone even found some needle and thread.  I went back to the bathroom to apply the pins.  I didn't know how hard it would be to pin my pants back together while wearing them.  It took about twenty minutes for me to put in four safety pins.  Plus, I did a lot more accidental poking.  Ouch!

By the time I was done, it looked terrible.  Not only did my fly not lie flat but you could see the safety pins poking out, especially from the side view.  It was not going to work.

I went and grabbed the needle and thread, and with no idea how to sew anything, went back in and hunched over to my crotch and began the delicate and tedious work of sewing up my fly.

My back began to ache and the bathroom started to grow hot and muggy.  The thread either kept snapping off or came out of the eye of the needle.  I spooled out a bunch of thread to make sure I had enough to sew but I unraveled too much and the thread got all tangled up in the teeth of the zipper.  Sweat dropped off my nose and I felt a shooting pain down my back.

It was not going well.

Eventually, I thought I had sewed up the fly pretty well.  But I had a spool of thread hanging out of my crotch.  I didn't know how to cut the thread without loosening it so I just cut it and sure enough, after my first couple of steps, the thread loosening and my fly was just as open as it was before I began the laborious process of sewing that sucker shut.

I gave up.  I only had a little over an hour of work left so I just hid behind the counter to mask my exposure.

Check out this mess.  With all that  mangled metal so close to my scrotum, it looks like I'm emulating Albert Fish. 

subway pimp

During the end of the work week, I usually allow myself to go out to eat for lunch. Because I am on a diet, and my small town doesn’t offer very much in the way of eateries, I mostly go to Subway and order something from their healthier sub selections. When I happen to be working the same shift as one of my coworkers, we’ll often go together. And because most of my coworkers are female, I hang out with a lot of girls.

Today, I went in by myself and the group of girls who worked there mentioned that I was alone.

“Hey, where’s your girlfriends?” one of them shouted.

“Riding solo today,” I replied.

Another one added, “We call you the subway pimp because you always have a different girl with you.” I was slightly embarrassed by that but brushed it off.

“Where’s your pimp hat?” another girl asked.

“Left it in the car.”

We were all kind of laughing about it and smiling and it was all light-hearted and fine. Eventually, everyone scattered except the girl making my sandwich. I pretty much knew they knew these girls I ate with were merely coworkerss but there was that small part of me that had to make sure.

“Um, you all don’t really think I’m seeing all those girls, do you?”

The girl looked up at me and laughed. “Oh, no. We was just playin’ with you.”

“Oh, okay, good,” I said with a slight sigh of relief. “I just wanted to make sure you all didn’t think I was that kind of guy.”  I smiled at her and she smiled back and it was a fun little exchange.

“Naw,” she said. “I told them you probably didn’t even have a girlfriend.”

And that’s when it wasn’t fun anymore.

“What?” I had to make sure I heard her correctly.

“I just said you probably didn’t even have a girlfriend.”

“Oh.  Oh.  Okay…”

I went from being an imaginary mac daddy to a real-life loser.  Even strangers can tell no one wants me.

“What kinda cheese you want on this?”

After what she just said?

“Every kind.”

Lumberjackass

More work shenanigans:

We had a poor excuse for a costume contest on the Friday and Saturday before Halloween.  I really enjoy dressing up for Halloween but once I stopped trick or treating and had no more Halloween parties to attend, there seemed no point in dressing up, especially when I'd just end up sitting in my room plowing through Doritos while watching a Night of the Demons marathon.  So, I thought the contest would be a good opportunity to find an awesome costume and impress and amuse the masses.  Well, the store manager didn't even announce the contest until Tuesday, leaving very little time to find anything decent.  So, I pretty much bought some clothes from the store and rigged myself up a lumberjack costume.  I even went out and bought some mud-stomping boots with no intention of wearing them outside of that occasion.  I also stopped shaving for that macho look.  Unfortunately, I couldn't find an axe but I thought I had done pretty well with the limited time and resources. 

So, imagine my lack of surprise when I go into work Friday morning in my flannel shirt, suspenders, cuffed jeans and chunky lesbian boots just to see that I was the only one dressed up.  It was a lot like showing up to class naked or...going into work dressed as a friggin' lumberjack.  I was out of place and I don't like that feeling.  I'm a blender.  Blend into crowds, blend into my surroundings.  Imagine everyone else in dress pants and floral tops while I'm harvesting trees in the men's department.  I was pretty ticked.  As you know, I'm self-conscious as it is and all I could think about was how all the customers were going to think I was weird.  I could just imagine an old woman turning to her friend and asking, "What is Paul Bunyan doing working here?"  So, I stripped off my suspenders and took off my boots and switched them with an extra pair of regular work shoes I had stashed away in my car just in case the boots uncomfortable.  While I looked slightly less lumberjack-like, I still looked completely ridiculous.

I should have known this would happen.  I had a sneaking suspicion I'd be alone in my garish garb when everyone I asked about dressing up said they weren't going to.

"Eh, I have a few ideas I'm throwing around."  (I don't have anything nor do I plan on having anything)

"Probably not, I don't have time to get anything."  (I'm too lazy to throw something together)

"You know, I just don't feel like it."  (I'm a boring whore)

Where's the Halloween spirit?  Where's the fun of dressing up and being silly and becoming someone or something else?  And people think I'm a grumpy old man.  At least I tried.

Although I did hear one girl would be dressing up.  So, I figured as long as I wasn't the only one, I'd be good.  Well, she didn't.  So I went to all that trouble for nothing.  I didn't even win the contest!  Oh well, I think I looked pretty snazzy, although I wasted quite a bit of money.  I went home after work and stayed in my outfit for the rest of the night because I didn't want it to go to waste.  I thought I'd try to squeeze as much use out of it as possible.  So, all in all, Halloween was another epic failure, if you don't include the awesomeness that was The Walking Dead premiere.  I watched it the first time plus the two encore presentations.  

 

Hi, I chop trees.

I also lay pipe.

Phase 2 Bonus: When Christmas Came Crashing Down

I wrote another article for Phase 2 Studio about a particularly odd Christmas memory of mine.  Click here to read all aboot it.

Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

Bright White Light

The day after my surgery, I had to go back to the doctor for a follow up. I was surprised when he pulled out a wad of bloody gauze (I'm assuming) from my nose. I didn't know anything was up in there. Of course, I was out cold when he put it in there but it was still weird to have a foreign material extracted from my body when I didn't know it was there in the first place. He mentioned my deviated septum was the worst he had seen in a really long time. He also said the cartilage had began turning into bone and all sorts of nasty stuff was happening up in there. To sweeten the deal, I had two extra holes in my sinuses filled with a thick, white mucus. Good thing he got all of that straightened out. So, that was the first visit the day after surgery.

Today, I went back for my one week follow up and it was awful. The appointment was for him to suck out everything that had been collecting over the duration of the week: mucus, boogies, blood, any clotting, etc. First of all, the nurse stuck those numbing strips up my nose again and then laid me back in the chair. After a few minutes, the doctor came in with the usual, "Hey, how are ya?!" to which I responded, "Miserable!"

He took the strips out of my nose and then the nurse came back in and he got out his suctioning machine and proceeded to clean out each nostril. It was so bad. First of all, those numbing strips suck because I felt all of it. Well, I suppose I thought it hurt but without those numbing strips it could have been a lot worse but it was still really uncomfortable. And then the doctor had this light he stuck up my nose that was so bright I literally thought it was going to blind me. I squeezed my eyes as tight as I could and yet the light was still as bright as if I had my eyes wide open. It made me tear up, as well as his suctioning. Gosh, it felt like he was going so far up my nose I swear he was fondling my thoughts. And he was moving my nose around too and remember, this was only a week ago he had cut into it so it was still sore. I had tried to be so careful of my nose this whole time and he was standing there manhandling my nostrils like nobody's business. It was painful and went on for a long time.

Mom, who was in the room, told me afterward that the nurse noticed me gripping the arms of the chair I was in and she gave my mom that sympathy look like, "Aw, poor guy, this isn't pleasant for him!" It sure wasn't but I was a trooper and made it through.

After he was done I could actually breathe out of my nose for the first time in a week. It was weird though but the nurse told me that was normal because of the numbing and because I had become accustomed to breathing out of my mouth. After the numbing wore off, I tried breathing out of my nose but it burned. I assumed it was because he had just been in there with his mini hoover and because I was still healing from surgery. It's actually not as bad now so I'm pretty happy about that.

Oh, and the lump in my throat is bigger than ever. It gradually started getting a bit harder after surgery but over the past two days it has absolutely ballooned up to "facial disfigurement" levels. I mentioned it to the doctor when he first came in the room. Since I was laid back and had my chin on my chest, he didn't notice it until I told him and then lifted my head up. Mom said the doc's goofy grin dropped immediately upon seeing the tennis ball jutting out of my throat. He then prescribed some stronger antibiotics and some steroids to hopefully cause the lump to go down and disappear for good. He said he didn't like that the lump was painful for me but he said it was actually a good sign cause it shows that the nose and the lump are correlated like he thought. So, while I thought I'd be done with antibiotics by Friday, I've got ten more days to go! Stronger stuff, too. Will I ever feel like myself again?

Being whacked out on all these pills have really made me feel like I am outside of myself, some kind of observer and not actually me, and in some ways it's nice because I've gone this whole time without thinking very much. While it's nice to be blank-brained for a change, it's unfamiliar and in some ways, it's stifled me. Before the operation, I was going through a semi-major crisis of faith: faith in God, faith in man, faith in myself and where I am in the world but now I'm too tired to think about any of that. I've put God and everything else on hold until I can clear my head of this haze. I haven't been writing anything of substance. Not to mention I've put my book on hold. The good thing is that I care and I'm itching to get back to writing it. It felt good writing and I know the more I work on it, the better I'll feel. If only I could get my head in the right place.

It's so funny because so many times I've wanted to take a break from my head and now that I have, I'm ready to dive back into that mess that is my mind. I still have a lot of work to do.

Paralyzed Pecker

Is it just me or does anyone else experience a little erectile dysfunction after minor surgery?

I wasn’t allowed to leave the hospital until I ate, drank and peed. When I first woke up from the surgery, my mouth was a desert. I was eager to get something wet down my throat. Sips of water and Sprite did little to quench my thirst but I was too sleepy to drink as much as I wanted. I managed to down some mashed potatoes that were so dry I almost choked. And then my bladder woke up. Or, at least, I thought it did. I told the nurse I needed to go to the bathroom so she came over and helped me out of the bed. As soon as I sat up, a rush of nausea swept my skull and I could have projectile vomited those potatoes right back at her but after a few seconds, the dizziness passed and I was able to stand up on my feet. The nurse took me by my arm and we slowly shuffled to the bathroom.

So I’m standing there going and not much is happening. Instead of my usual fire hose stream, I’m barely dribbling. I found this frustrating because my bladder felt so full it was pressing against my tummy fat but nothing much was happening down there. And then it began to flow a little more freely. Before dribbling again. This ebb and flow of urine went on for a good minute. Every time I thought I was finished, shaking off those last golden drops, the pee came back full force. I found it odd but I was so anestoned that I didn’t think much of it. I had to go one last time before I left the hospital but I was so dizzy from standing up the last time that I had to sit like a proper lady to pee. Once again, it switched from a weak to strong stream. This cycle of sprinkling went on even after I came home.

I mentioned it to my mom and she suggested that maybe it was a side effect from the anesthesia. Like, maybe my body hadn’t all fully woken up yet? It’s not like I couldn’t pee, I just couldn’t get it to all come out all at once like usual. There’s been some other stuff as well.

I’ve noticed Uncle Woody hasn’t even come to say hello. It’s strange, especially in the mornings, which is when he usually makes his rounds. I guess that’s a good thing since my mom’s been popping in every morning to pop more pills into my mouth. Antibiotics. Steroids. Anxiety. Nausea. Pain. A pill for this and that but inconveniently, no Viagra. I kid. It’s not like I’m using it for anything. It’s just a weird little something I’ve noticed while in recovery.

Oh, and I didn’t poop for the first four days I was back home, either. Yet another bodily function (and my favorite) interrupted.

In other news, I’ve been absolutely miserable these past several days since the surgery. The first two days were spent in a haze of sleep and nausea. The next days were all about pressure, pressure, pressure. I felt so much pressure that it seemed like my eyeballs were going to pop from my skull. The intense pressure spread from under my eyes to my temples and wrapped around to my neck. But that's not all, folks!

As I mentioned, I can't breathe out of my nose. I was also instructed not to blow my nose. Now, for me, being someone who blows their nose multiple times a day, this was an exercise in frustration. My nose hasn't necessarily been dripping but I have the instinctual urge to sniff and blow and I can sniff but it only exacerbates the pressure and I can't blow to relieve the pressure. So, it's all balled up in my head and I hate it. I was told to prop myself up while sleeping so I've been trying to do that. I wasn't told how long I should continue doing this, if only for the first day or so or for several weeks, so I've been trying to keep propping myself upright or at least staying somewhat elevated at all times but it's so uncomfortable. I usually sleep on my stomach with my face pressed against the pillow but since my entire face hurts and I since I have an irrational fear of anything grazing my nose, causing the septum to shift or crack again, I've been sleeping on my back to try to be as protective as possible over my sore schnaz.

Additionally, all of this mouth breathing has destroyed my lips. And no balm, salve or ointment has helped.

If I could, I'd simply sleep away the day and spare myself all of this discomfort but I just can't. Despite feeling so unwell, I haven't managed to fall asleep as easily as you'd think being a sick person. I'm always overly warm because I was told I can't sleep under a ceiling fan, which I would usually always have on. I'm still dizzy but I force myself to shower to feel at least a little better. And I do for a few minutes until standing upright brings that familiar nausea again. Then, I have to lay myself down again.

And when I'm lying down, I feel like there's a gigantic bowling ball in the center of my nose and if I'm not lying perfectly centered, I feel like the ball has shifted itself in whatever direction I move. I can actually feel the pressure rolling through my nose like a ball being rolled across a smooth linoleum floor. It sucks.

I've said many times that I am worried this wasn't worth it. I mean, seriously, as far back as my feeble mind can reach, this is the worst I have ever felt in my entire life and the frustrating part is the discomfort is unrelenting. It's not like having a head cold or head congestion from allergies where you can pop an over-the-counter medicine, take a nap and feel better. I hate to put that kind of energy out there because I definitely pray that this whole procedure was worth it. I'd hate to go through all of this and not come out of it being able to breathe better than I can remember, plus to have that lump disappear, which is why I got the surgery in the first place. Speaking of, the lump has popped back up and it is sore. I'm hoping this is the last time it pops up to say hello because I can't see myself going through another surgery to remove it. No thank you. One sucky surgery was quite enough.

It's been about seven days now. Only seven long, excruciating more days until I can blow my nose. Heck, even then I'll be scared to blow because I don't want to damage my nose or anything. I'll probably try to wait a few more days just to be on the safe side. I don't want to have endured all this discomfort just to undo the healing process by damaging something. I'll be very gentle.

Ah, the Kleenex is calling.