The Insane Morphing Mutant Clown

He lives in my head. He’s insane, scary, mutant, and ugly. He’s been living in my head the last week. Ahhhhh!!!!


Okay, it’s really a COLD in my head, but it was so much more fun to call it a clown. Don’t ya think?

IMM Clown arrived wearing his funny shoes. He had orange lapels, with a sequin black and white vest. What can I say? He has a passion for fashion. His first trick was a deep rumble in my chest. It was like a freight train was coming out of my throat. I tried to cough him out, but no luck.

Then my clown decided to turn on the funhouse faucets of my nose. Drip, drip, sniffle, snort. The SOUNDS he made. OMG! Most embarrassing of all was when I went to buy cold medicine at CVS. Laughingly he cranked the faucet as I was punching in my ATM code. No amount of sucking that sniff with all my might helped. I still dripped in front of the clerk. The horror!

That’s when I knew he was evil and that he had to go. I brought out the big boys. NyQuil and Mucinex to kick the stuffing out that clown. To show him who is boss. This wasn’t a three ring circus. Well that showed him alright.

Except…..we didn’t realize he was a MORPHING MUTANT. Yeah. He morphed to something like half his size. Climbed up into a sinus crevice behind my eye. Right next to my BRAIN (whimper). He proceeded to beat his drum, not the snare, but the big booming bass.

It vibrated through my noggin’ on the entire right side of my head. Dizzy, nauseous, and miserable. I had a feeling this clown was trying to bring me down. Break my spirit. Make me not happy. HA.

I showed him. Sydney, Jason, and I went to a movie. The Book of Eli. Good show. How do you like them apples clown?

Well, he doubled his efforts. Playing Rock Band like it was the end of the song and he was banging away for the bonus points. That was a mean trick. Then, he piled into his tiny clown car doing wheelies, and honking the horn over and over. Ahhh! That is likely to make a person beg for mercy and leave work early.

I went to the clown exorcist. He worked his mojo magic. Clown scrabbled. He morphed. He mutated and I think his head spun around three times. When the exorcist sent the steroid heads in. He knew he was doomed. Just look at em’.

They are mighty. They mean business flexing their pecs and they are out to annihilate the clown man. Funny they look familiar?

ANYWAYS, they brought their arsenal.

Clowns HATE pink antibiotics missiles that run them down in their clown car. And they really, really don’t like nasal tear gas.

You are smoke buddy.

Say good-bye. No more insane morphing mutant clown in my head. I am finally horizontal and ready to face the world again. It was a doozy of a ride and not funny at all. Clowns stink.

If you decide to come back, making it a sequel, be prepared. My roid friends are close at hand. Cue Terminator music. Dun, dun, dun, dun. Dun, dun, dun, dun.

On a personal note- The last few days, I have only read blog posts sporadically from my iPhone while I was waging war with the clown in vertical position. Now that I’m back in the land of the living – sane (ahem). I’ll be by soon. Can’t wait to see what’s been going on in your lives.

Oh and for those who missed it. Insane Morphing Mutant Clown = cold. Doc + medicine = Cold eradicator. Yay! And yes this is very silly, but I am SO HAPPY to be feeling better. 😀

Tale of the Wump Lump Bumps

*Warning, the pictures might gross you out.*

*Warning, this is a true story.*

*Warning, are you still reading? Are you sure?*

*Warning, this is your last warning.*

Tale of the wump lump bumps is a behind the scenes look at what was happening during, and after my 100th post. I’ve been having the itchies on and off since the end of May. The original wump lump was on the inside of my wrist. I thought when I moved some boxes around in my garage, I got bit by a spider. It swelled up like a goose egg. Then it magically disappeared. Strange!

Off and on after that, these wump lump bumps would rear their ugly head, itch madly, then leave without a word. What in the world? I became friends with them. Prayed they weren’t scabies or some other microscopic friend. As long as they packed their humps and headed off to wump lump land of a thousand mounds. I just didn’t care. And they did. Bye, bye, bye!

That is until a week ago……

This rude inconsiderate wump decided to pitch a tent on the back of my shoulder. The NERVE! Dude! Not only that, but he must have been pretty darn trashy because he ITCHED, and ITCHED, and ITCHED! Ouch!!!! The girls at work took this pic with my iPhone. Their faces were twisted in horror. Was I turning into a leper?

Now earlier in the day, it’s twin brother camped behind my EAR. That wasn’t nice. So now, he has moved on and the double mint wump lump comes up on my back. I go to Jason’s after work. My little lumpy intruder has decided to go all boomer land run and claim more of my SKIN! The lump wump bump grows up my back and neck. I could not even turn my head to the right it was so swollen. This picture is later the same night.

Now, I am very healthy. I have been blessed with very little ailments. Even if I get a cold (once or twice) every few years, it’s not too bad. I can name on one hand the bad sicks I’ve had. When I got viral food poisoning from raw oysters. When I got a terrible chest cold coughing so bad – and so long – I cracked a rib. It took a steroid inhaler to cure it. And until THIS, those were the worst things I have ever had to deal with.

I had no idea what was going on here because, normally, the wump lumps went home. Happy sated and rested up from their vacation. But these, they were getting angry, growing hot, and out of control. No amount of cream, nor Bendaryl, would appease them. I even tried CHOCOLATE – the cure all to end all. Of course that made me happy. Them? Not so much.

Then the wump lump junk impregnated my forearms. Either that, or the family got a divorce. They started out the size of mosquitoes, but they grew. These grew abnormally fast. They graduated (remarried) in an hour, turned 21 within two, gave birth to multiples of multiples. Now I think they are expecting grand wumps, or they opened a school of itch.

Um, ouch? I took two more Benadryl and crashed at Jason’s. He didn’t want me to leave. What if my insides swelled up? What if I stopped breathing? Who would know? No one, that’s who. And scarily enough, something very similar happened to my best friend from high school’s husband of twenty years. He broke out in hives and within hours ALMOST died. He was saved by the fact that she knew something was horribly wrong and got him to the emergency room – barely in time. I’m not kidding, it was a close call. And what was it? An allergic reaction. To what? Who knows? See! Scary stuff.

I promised him if I still had the village of the wump lump bumps torching my place the next morning, I would GLADLY go to the doctor.

Here I am at the doctors office the next morning. This lump wump bump really outdid himself. He must have feasted all night because he grew the entire length and width of the inside of my forearm. This is just ONE arm. The other forearm didn’t want to be left out. It had it’s own wump lump sump monster. Both were a nice shade of purple red. Both were firecracker hot, and did I mention they itch? Horribly.

The doctor was pretty stunned. They administered a steroid shot. He promised I’d feel halfway normal within an hour or two. I did. Thank GOD. The wump lump forearm twins faded to purple. See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya.

I wore long sleeves. I never wear long sleeves. I am always hot, but believe me it was better if the remains were covered up. Give the family some time to grieve in private. The wump lump bumps were heading to heaven (I hoped).

Like any normal survivor of the wump lump bumps, I decided to go shopping. I know, right? I bought this.

Nikon D3000 with the additional 55m-200m lens, a camera case, a tripod, and a warranty for when I drop it. I got free photo classes thrown in, because this is SOME kind of camera. Oh it’s completely user friendly, but there is so much more to it, if I can learn the manual settings as well.

As for the wumpy lumpy bumpy junkys? Well, I haven’t seen them. But I feel them every day. They ITCH. Still. My skin turns red. It’s like I stepped in fire ant pile. Burning, and itching to no end. Still wearing long sleeves helps, but any kind of elastic fires off the rash of 1,000 bites. Of course, I have no explanation for why my head itches. I finally broke down the other night shaking, and weeping. Thank God for Jason’s arms and his reassurance. He was right there, holding me, and letting me cry. Because after a week of itching and burning, I could take no more.

I have been on steroids to keep their little nasty selves off of me. I take Benadryl at night to ease some of the discomfort of itching. Yesterday at work, I had to leave early. I clawed my chest up. It hurts to itch. Stress seems to magnify the nerve endings.

I am seeing the doctor this afternoon. It is probably my Thyroid they are trying to get working (not working) properly from the Grave’s Disease. We knew it wouldn’t be easy. I am grateful that I know what it’s like to feel like an alien. I have met many people with skin diseases. I get it now. It’s not fun.

It’s the most uncomfortable thing in the world. So, if I haven’t been by your blog like usual. This is why. My fingers are itching, or I’m in la la land from the Benadryl. And if you see the wump lump clan? Tell them to take a hike. Preferably to the land of no return.

I’m blaming hormones

I swear, I don’t have a single coherent thought. I feel my very nerve endings screaming in stress, but I’m not. I’m not worried about anything, but I should be, and I can’t think about them. What good would worrying do? I have choices, there is no worry. And see? That thought process is not very coherent, or incoherent?

I, quite often, don’t make sense. Just ask Jason. Wouldn’t that be fun? Wait, I can give you his answer, “Huh? What?”. I noticed last night, it’s his standard response, and now I’m doing it too. See, Jason and I constantly miscommunicate, it’s a source of humor now. *It has to be, otherwise we’d run screaming from the room*

I don’t hear well. He doesn’t hear well. This is going to work in our favor as we age, I just know it. As I became aware of this last night, when I said, “Huh?” before I actually listened to what he was saying (oh, that’s bad!). I realized, I heard what he said, as he was repeating it. Um. Oops. In my defense, I suspect he does the same thing to me, which is why we both do it. Got all that?  Huh?

I started a different post this morning, but I didn’t want to finish it (right now). I stayed up late watching a movie with Jason, which explains my muddled thought process. I have the dreaded Aunt Flo visit any moment, any second.  It’s not going to be pretty, at least the first day or two, until I put her in her place, stuff her trap with chocolate and pasta, and send her cranky butt packing.

Also, a few weeks ago, I found out from my yearly visit –  yes you ladies know – THAT one.  I have an elevated Thyroid. Uh, Yay? I’ve been expecting that for a while. My mom has Grave’s disease. She has osteoporosis as well. I am just a chip off the old block. Mom, loveyoumeanit..

At least now, I know why 40 degrees is comfortable, and anything else is blasted HOT. Turn on the A/C – where’s my face fan?  Why are you wearing a coat? Yeah, that explains all that. And can I just apologize to my roommates and Sydney? I’m sorry, but the heater is not allowed on unless it’s below freezing outside. I repeat, I’m sorry.

I go see the Endocrinologist the first week of December to see what is going on, and if it matches what Dr. Peters believes (Graves). Sad thing is, an elevated Thyroid should make you lose weight. Not this chickie, but I do think I’d be TWICE as big if I didn’t have an elevated one. So, there’s a plus (and a pun, heh).

Thanksgiving is next week, a lot of people are making their –  what I’m thankful for lists. My mom is talking about visiting, which would be amazing. Last time she mentioned that, she couldn’t come, honestly, I don’t want to get my hopes up, but that’d be the top of my thankful list! Oh yeah.

And, last night, totally unexpected, my favorite post was featured, on The Bold Life. Click on the link, or you can find it under the Joys of Writing tab, or you can go to Tess Marshall’s site, via My Favorite Blogs, over there somewhere —————> or even ^ up there, in What I’m reading tab, which is her book, Flying by the Seat of my Soul, one of the many books I’m reading. It is AWESOME. It means so much to me that she would share my link on her site.

The post link is the story of my step dad who died, August 2008. A Father’s Love. The mention of this story, this time of the month especially, just brings on the waterworks. He was my safety net. Without him,  I always feel – I’m walking the tightrope – on my own. There is no net, no crash pad, no rescue, just vacant free-falling to the floor. In other words, I MISS him, sooo much.

But, I am not alone. Jason is the strongest, most vigilant, and loyal sponsor (thanks, Wilma)  I have ever had (besides God). He is completely reliable, 100%. If I was a needy person, he’d be there for me. I’m not, at least, I try not to be (maybe to a fault). I don’t need saving or rescuing (the old me did, but didn’t know it). I guess it was just the comfort of my step dad being there, a back up, an extra pair of batteries, a just in case.

Obviously, I am very capable. I have lived on my own since age 17.  Paid my own bills, supported a family, and I didn’t even rely on child support. There were some years, I didn’t even GET child support, so I couldn’t rely on it. Don’t mistake that for not appreciating it. I do appreciate it. It helps greatly, but it’s not necessary for my survival. I don’t think I could be that dependent, nor would I want to be (prideful much?).

As you can see, this is not a normal post for me. I have a lot of things on my mind. As joyful as the holidays are, they can be hard for me. I had an ectopic pregnancy one Thanksgiving, surgery that December. The last time I saw my grandmother alive was last Thanksgiving.  This is my second Thanksgiving without my step dad. As thankful as I am, I can’t help but remember.

In the works, I have some great life stories I’m working on…Life with a broken right hand amidst, a downward spiral of the economy (why yes, I am right handed, not to mention that I type for a living). All reservations are booked by computer, air, car, hotel – all – have to be typed in. It’s too good not to blog about it. The Survival.

Another story, at Christmas 2007, about a very good friend of mine and what her family did for me and Sydney. I will never forget it.  You will be astounded by the Christmas spirit that visited us.

So can we all take a big deep breath? (iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnn oooooooooooouuuut)  Ahhhh, that’s better (yes, Peggy, I need to get to Yoga class). Thank YOU, if you are reading this, if you comment. I appreciate you more than you know. I don’t have any immediate family members that read my blog (except my daughter sometimes, hi sweetie, I love you! and Jason because I make him- Did you read my blog yet? Did you? How about now?).

So you, YES YOU, dear, kind, precious reader. Give yourself a hug and smile, from me (if you’re there-I can’t see through this box).  Words can not convey what you mean, I know there are so many talented, and creative blogs out there. That you chose to read mine is humbling beyond measure. (wow, that kinda sounded like an airline)