Meet Baby Ava

Before:

After:

Meet Ava Kamryn Jones. She was born on March 17th (St. Patrick’s Day!), 2008. She is the fourth installment to my collection of nieces.

Isn’t she beautiful?!

Let me tell you a little bit more about her: She was just released from Geisinger Medical Center in Danville, PA this past Thursday after being life-flighted there a little over three weeks ago. A few days before being rushed there, she was having episodes where she would stop breathing for a short while and then start again. Just as my sister was strapping her into her car seat to take her to yet another doctor’s appointment, she stopped breathing again. My sister immediately called 911, and the EMTs decided that Geisinger was the best option.

While she was hospitalized, she was tested for a plethora of different ailments. Her white cell count was ten times as much as it should have been, so the doctors tested for leukemia. It came back negative. Then, they tested her for bone marrow cancer. That came back negative as well. After running more and more tests, they finally decided it was Pertussis (Whooping Cough). Compared to some of the very scary diseases they were testing her for, I felt a little relieved with that diagnosis.

Although she may be sick for a pretty long while, I’m glad she’s back at home. I think having her youngest daughter out of the hospital is the best Mother’s Day gift for which my sister could have asked. Since she has really severe coughing fits, it’s hard for her to eat normally. It usually results in puking; therefore, she was put on a feeding tube. It goes up her nose and down the back of her throat into her stomach. I’m just saying – I got an NG tube once, and it hurt like hell. I feel so bad for Baby Ava. She’s hardly two months old.

Because of said feeding tube, she has to have tiny weights strapped around her elbows so she doesn’t flail her arms and rip it out. She’s done that before (three times). She went to the doctor this morning for a weight check. Healthy two-month-old babies, at the least, should weigh about 9 pounds 4 ounces; however, Baby Ava only weighs a little over 7 pounds. Her doctor said she’s probably going to have to remain on the feeding tube for two or three months. :-\

Also, I’ve been terrified of holding her since I’ve been home. She looks so helpless and scared sometimes, and I just want to hold her and be close to her, but I’m so afraid of hurting her. Just thinking about everything she’s been through brings tears to my eyes (my nieces mean the world to me). Perhaps I’ll hold her later today.

Anyway, that’s the story of my extremely adorable and incredibly strong Baby Ava.

I think this is termed “inspiration”…

it’s nearing 7 in the morning.

I haven’t slept all night, and I couldn’t fall asleep now if I tried.

I was struck with an idea of sorts, and any exhaustion I felt immediately went away.

I’ve been typing the start to the semi-autobiographical novel I’ve been thinking of writing for years for the past two hours; however, my efforts are soon becoming listless due to the LARGE and ANNOYING cast on my right hand.

I mean, I’ve started this story countless times since I was 14, but for some reason, this time feels different. it feels strangely promising.

perhaps things are really looking up for me.

nothing important.

I don’t like using capitalization.

as you may have noticed, every time I write a blog entry the only word I ever capitalize is “I”. why, you may ask? I’ve always looked at things I write like this: nothing I have to say is important, meaningful, or worth anything; therefore, it doesn’t deserve capitalization. in the same respect, I don’t think that I am important, meaningful or worth anything; however, I can’t break myself of the habit of capitalizing the word “I”. if I wasn’t so obsessive compulsive, I wouldn’t do it. also, it just doesn’t look right to me if I wrote it as “i”. it makes me feel like a dumb teenager on instant messenger.

so there you have you it; your unimportant fact of me for the day.

let’s get back to normalcy.

I graduated 8th in my class out of 183 students from Tamaqua Area Senior High School.

I was the 3rd female in our class ranks. I’m not going to lie; it was a pretty difficult feat. after having spent my first two years of high school not giving a shit about grades whatsoever, I had to make up for a lot of my former apathy throughout my junior and senior years of high school. I would have to say that my graduation was probably one of the best days of my life. it was one of the few times that I was truly proud of myself.

and where has that gotten me? absolutely nowhere. like all high school seniors, of course I was going to pursue a higher education upon my graduation. I picked Temple University as my school of choice. I visited the campus once, and to put it mildly, I kind of fell in love. I can’t pinpoint exactly why I liked the campus so much, but my mind was made up.

hardly a year after being so excited about where I was going to college, I’m fed up. I can’t stand going to classes. I can’t make up my mind about my major. I’ve been literally worrying myself sick for the past two months because I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing with my life. it’s gotten to the point where I would be completely content working a job that I knew was going to be stable every day for the rest of my life.

so what was the point of this post? no matter how popular or smart you are in high school, it’s never going to get you anywhere after you graduate.

TOMORROW

so tomorrow is the not-so-big day that I’m completely over-stressing and over-worrying about. ask my girlfriend. I’m driving her crazy. please feel bad for her. I’m really annoying.

anyway, I have to get an endoscopy tomorrow at Temple University Hospital because of how many complications I’ve had with that general region of my body for about the past month and a half or so. this should be a shitload of fun.

even though I realize that doctors are completely competent and capable individuals and not every average person from the street can just be like “OH HAI THERE… LET ME SHOVE A TUBE DOWN UR THROAT NOW LOLZ”, I’m still concerned for a few irrational reasons:

• I’m afraid the doctors are going to play a practical joke and tie my intestines into knots. you see, if I were a doctor, I would think this would be really funny (maybe that’s why I’ll never be a doctor); however, this is a genuine concern of mine, and you shouldn’t make fun of me under any circumstances.
• I’m afraid the doctors are going to steal my colon and try to sell it on Amazon or, even worse, eBay (it’s completely classless and tacky to have your organs sold on eBay, and that just makes my self-worth drop even lower).
• I’m afraid the doctors aren’t going to give me enough anesthesia, and I’m going to wake up halfway through the procedure freaking out. as fun as it was (not) to have the NG tube done in the emergency room, I don’t want to have to watch and feel parts of my body being (unnaturally) invaded again.
• I’m afraid that I’m going to forget about the fact that I’m not supposed to eat or drink anything before the procedure when I wake up tomorrow and accidentally ingest something. OR WORSE, what if I accidentally swallow water while I’m brushing my teeth?!?!
• I’m always really wary about medications, and I’m really concerned about how I’m going to feel while under the effects of the anesthesia. that’s why the only person I completely and totally trust is coming to pick me up.
• I’m also really afraid that I’m going to be deathly allergic to the anesthetic that they give me, and I’m just going to die on the table.
• I’m also really afraid of the results. I have a lot riding on this stupid medical procedure, and I don’t know what would happen if they tell me that I’m completely 100% healthy. on the other hand, I’m also really scared about what they’ll find. what if I have some weird disease that is completely incurable and only gives me 2 days to live?!

now, after getting that ridiculousness out of my system, I feel slightly better. I’m in the midst of talking myself out of writing a will just in case. thanks for bearing with me.

wanna hear a fun story?

a couple weeks ago I spent a few days dry-heaving and puking my brains out. oh, and when I wasn’t puking, I was curled into a ball because of how much pain I was in. when all of this was happening, I was really tempted to take pictures of the puke just so that I could put them up on here for the whole world to see, but I regret to inform you that never happened.

so yeah, early one Wednesday (at about 2 A.M.), I started puking my brains out for the something like the fourth day in a row. after about 15 minutes of this, I started throwing up blood. at this point I was in so much pain that I was shaking, and I was really scared because there was blood, like, everywhere. okay, I’m exaggerating, but still, it was BLOOD. that’s disconcerting. I started crying my eyes out, and Vicki was looking stuff up online. I’ve been diagnosed with an ulcer before, and we were both pretty convinced that was the cause of all the puking-ness. after about another 15 minutes of crying and freaking out, I decided that going to the emergency room was a good idea.

so we walked over to the fine medical institution Methodist Hospital. pfft, yeah right. first off, they called my name as I was throwing up in the bathroom and then because I didn’t come I had to wait about another 15 minutes. then, when I finally got back to an examination room, my blood was taken by the most incompetent, jackass excuse for a nurse ever. after he left, I was waiting in the exam room FOREVER. at one point, Vicki was falling asleep in the chair, so I just told her to go home.

I didn’t get seen by a doctor until around 7:45. because I said I had been throwing up blood, the two doctors treating me wanted to make sure that my stomach wasn’t bleeding, so they asked for consent to give me an NG tube. let me tell you about this crazy idea. first, they shoved about 6 Q-tips up my nose with numbing medication on them. I don’t know if you’ve ever had to get a localized anesthetic, but it’s not the most pleasant feeling in the world. IMAGINE THAT UP YOUR NOSE. after my nostril was numb, they shoved this huge hose up my nostril, and I had to drink water as they were shoving it down my throat to put it in my stomach. then, they flushed saline in and out of my stomach to see what was going on. the saline was cloudy when it came out, but they “weren’t sure that it was blood”. funny how I threw up blood about 20 minutes after they removed the tube.

regardless, I was discharged with a good, old case of nausea and vomiting. DOUCHE BAGS. first of all, not once did I say that I felt nauseous. second of all, I told them that my puke was really dark and didn’t resemble food whatsoever (clear sign of an ulcer). but whatever, according to them, I was just nauseous.

anyway, getting to the point, I managed to weasel my way into getting an appointment with a gastroenterologist at Temple University Hospital TOMORROW after being told by another doctor that they couldn’t get me in until the end of April. good deal. I realized how imperative seeing a specialist was after I spent a good chunk of this afternoon throwing up a mixture of bile, coffee ground-like substances, and blood. you should have been there.

I can’t wait to have another tube (this time with a camera) shoved down my throat!

this may come as no surprise…

… but I’m a giant douche bag.

true story.

I had such a good idea last night.

I came up with the best idea ever while we were drinking fruit punch last night. I decided to document funny things that were said while we were all hopped up on sugar.

“Fruit Punch”-isms:

“She doesn’t date bi girls… or MY girls.” — said by myself and strongly agreed with by Deanna

“I didn’t know she was 17.” — Vicki
“But you knew she was ugly!” — Deanna

“Bitch, that’s not a microphone… it’s puff, puff, give!” — Aymon

Deanna while watching Serial Mom — “I want to go on a murdering spree like her.”

Deanna — “I love that how when we say ‘fatty’ to each other it doesn’t mean fat, it means you just ate a lot of food.”

Deanna while shoving food down her throat — “I don’t get the munchies when I drink ‘fruit punch’; I just get relaxed enough to remember that I haven’t eaten in a week or so.”

Leah — “Why is she mooing?!”

side note: Matthew Lilliard is in Serial Mom?!?!

Deanna promised to clean Vicki’s floor tomorrow because she spilled her beer. She then proceeded to wipe it up with paper towels for a million hours.

side note: The lady who does the voice of Mrs. Puff on Spongebob is in Serial Mom too?!?!

“I’m glad normal guys think like that.” — Leah responding to a comment made by Aymon about big boobs.
“You mean normal… as in straight?!” — Deanna Wozniak, President of Temple Common Ground.

and that’s that.

let me give you an update.

I HATE IKEA.

okay, so not really; however, on monday, I went to IKEA to buy a bed because I never got around to doing it when I moved into my apartment a month ago. I was acting like a little kid in the showroom while I was trying to figure out which bed I wanted. after about, oh, an hour of looking, I found the bed I wanted. then I picked out the mattress I wanted, and whatever. I went down to the self-serve area to pick everything up, and THE BED WASN’T IN STOCK. kind IKEA woman upstairs who checked the difference in price between a full size and queen size failed to mention that. also, kind IKEA employees didn’t have the bed marked as oversold. so, I just bought the mattress and decided to come back on a different day to buy the bed.

I’m going to go there: patrons of IKEA are unnaturally sexist. some guy decided that since it was two women tying a mattress to the roof of a car he had every right to tell us how to do it. I guess he wasn’t paying looking when I basically threw the mattress on top of the car with little help. after he realized that I was paying little to no attention to his stupid advice, he went away. then a woman comes over telling us how her sister said that we “need a man to help us out”, but “women are just as capable”. she literally grabbed the twine out of my hands and started fidgeting with it and trying to give us tips on how to tie it down. after about 10 minutes of what seemed like hours of her talking and hindering our progress, she finally went away. yeah, so the mattress got tied down eventually, and it was transported and placed into my apartment safely.

I WENT BACK TO IKEA TO GET MY BED TODAY. it was really exciting, except the part where it wasn’t exciting at all. well, I mean, I was excited until I realize how ungodly heavy this shit was. regardless, I got both boxes of extremely heavy wood into my car, but not without yet another male trying to give us assistance. then, I drove back to my apartment. I couldn’t find a spot that wasn’t less than almost a block away, so I just grabbed the smaller of the two boxes, but still really fucking heavy, and carried it up to my bedroom. when I went back outside, I saw a parking spot right in front of my apartment, but it was across the street. we realized that the box was way too big and heavy for us to carry, so I just opened it and carried it in piece by piece.

THEN THE BUILDING BEGAN. except I can’t read instructions or use tools for shit, so basically Vicki just put the whole thing together. I helped! and I got to hammer! I’m retarded when it comes to using a hammer though. after about 3 hours of building this fucking bed, we both gave it the not so much and decided to finish it at a later date. I mean, the only part that isn’t finished is the storage drawers, so it’s not a big deal. I have a bed to sleep on now. I think that’s the most important part.

and that’s my rant.

this may come as a shock to no one…

I shop in the boys’ department of clothing stores just as often, if not more often, than I shop in the girls’ department.

I know you’re probably thinking that I’m just another raging stereotypical lesbian, but I beg to differ. I feel like it should be completely acceptable for me to wear boxers if I feel like it (which I do), and wear boys’ jeans if I feel like it (which I do). anyway, people giving me shit about it just makes me even more uncaring about the fact that I fall neatly into an age-old stereotype. I <3 stereotypes. the world would be such a better place if it ran completely on stereotypes. okay, probably not, but it’d be a cool theory to test out for like a day or so. I don’t understand why the rest of the world can’t just see that this is completely normal. furthermore, I could totally pass as straight if I wanted to, and if I actually felt like it. a damn cute straight girl, might I add.

AND guys’ clothing is so much more comfortable. I think it could be argued that this is sexism at its best. of course, guys are allowed to wear clothing that is comfortable and warm and stuff, but women are expected to wear uncomfortable and revealing clothing just to look good for men because that’s how their self-worth is measured. women should only be judged by the men in their life. I mean, honestly, there’s no excuse for a woman to be happy unless she is firmly attached to a rich and successful man. I’m not even joking.

this has nothing to do with clothing anymore. oh well.