Needs an effing title but this is as good as it gets
At age sixteen, I had a pimple on my left cheek that I tried to drain. It failed to drain and turned into a small bump on my cheek.
Nine years later, when I was twenty-five, it had in previous months grown dramatically larger to the point where I could no longer sleep on my left side. I spent some week or months trying to arrange to have it examined by a doctor and then my kid stepped on my face when I was laying in bed and it got even more dramatically worse in short order, which landed me in the ER and finally got me a referral to a specialist in another city.
So I get there and it's winter in Germany and I've driven 45 minutes in bad weather and etc and the surgeon says he wants to schedule me for a proper operating room because it's on my face and he wants it done right. And then he checks and there are NO openings for like three weeks (or maybe more -- I don't really remember).
And I'm like "I need this done TODAY." I had driven a long way, I had two toddlers at home and it had gotten really bad in the previous two weeks, so I turned on the charm and asked nicely and made my case.
So we have gotten all chummy and I have talked him into this and he starts surgery with a local in his office and is still being all chummy and I giggled while he was cutting into my face on the operating table in his office and he was like "Oh, no giggling during surgery" and stopped being so chummy and behaved more professionally after that.
I don't know what I could have done differently. It might have been WORSE if he had rescheduled me for surgery for this LARGE (and still growing) infected ball of muck in my face for THREE WEEKS (or more) later, but it's possible that giggling during surgery after he was cutting on me is why -- or part of why -- that thing never fully healed.
So even though he did beautiful work and the surgical scar is damn near invisible and relatives who KNEW where the bump on my face had been and knew I had surgery had trouble finding the scar, one end of it has never fully closed. Decades later, I STILL, to this day, periodically drain sebum from what began as a sebaceous cyst in my teens and became infected and grew dramatically larger in my twenties.
That same side of my face is where I am missing ALL my back teeth. I have a long and traumatic history of dental issues going back to age four and TLDR ulitmately had a lot of teeth with large fillings removed after multiple surgeries -- as in "lost track of exactly how fucking many" -- failed to fix the issue. (See: The Bane of my Existence; World War Z: Hard Decisions and Stress Tests.)
Five days ago on January 27th, we threw out something old and, as is the norm, there were multiple little things that followed on the heels of that which also involved health drama amplifying that effect. This morning, I had horror-movie style dreams and I was SCREAMING in the dream and I almost NEVER have nightmares.
In my teens, I read a number of books about dream interpretation and in my twenties when I did therapy, I kept a dream journal. My dreams continue to be a window into my subconscious and some of those dreams are health related.
In this dream, there were two different kind of bugs that came out of my left cheek and I will spare you the details but I think one is a symbol for trypanosomas and the other is a symbol for PA and the biofilm it creates.
These are both iron-loving bugs and I think the dream means that trypanosomas feeds on PA as an easier alterative to feeding on red blood cells and this is likely why my mouth is a hold out of trypanosoma infection. And I think my PA biofilm in my mouth is breaking up and this will help me clear tryapansomas from my mouth (and if you have HIV, which fosters PA, this MAY have implications for HIV patients as well).
I feel like HELL today. I have low back pain, which is immune distress, and I feel like a truck ran me over.
And I think I am on track to finally clear up my PA and this will help me finally get rid of the remaining trypanosomas in my system.
Labeled "less is more" because this shit was triggered by throwing old stuff out. If you are a pack rat and physically ill: start getting rid of shit, stupid.
Nine years later, when I was twenty-five, it had in previous months grown dramatically larger to the point where I could no longer sleep on my left side. I spent some week or months trying to arrange to have it examined by a doctor and then my kid stepped on my face when I was laying in bed and it got even more dramatically worse in short order, which landed me in the ER and finally got me a referral to a specialist in another city.
So I get there and it's winter in Germany and I've driven 45 minutes in bad weather and etc and the surgeon says he wants to schedule me for a proper operating room because it's on my face and he wants it done right. And then he checks and there are NO openings for like three weeks (or maybe more -- I don't really remember).
And I'm like "I need this done TODAY." I had driven a long way, I had two toddlers at home and it had gotten really bad in the previous two weeks, so I turned on the charm and asked nicely and made my case.
So we have gotten all chummy and I have talked him into this and he starts surgery with a local in his office and is still being all chummy and I giggled while he was cutting into my face on the operating table in his office and he was like "Oh, no giggling during surgery" and stopped being so chummy and behaved more professionally after that.
I don't know what I could have done differently. It might have been WORSE if he had rescheduled me for surgery for this LARGE (and still growing) infected ball of muck in my face for THREE WEEKS (or more) later, but it's possible that giggling during surgery after he was cutting on me is why -- or part of why -- that thing never fully healed.
So even though he did beautiful work and the surgical scar is damn near invisible and relatives who KNEW where the bump on my face had been and knew I had surgery had trouble finding the scar, one end of it has never fully closed. Decades later, I STILL, to this day, periodically drain sebum from what began as a sebaceous cyst in my teens and became infected and grew dramatically larger in my twenties.
That same side of my face is where I am missing ALL my back teeth. I have a long and traumatic history of dental issues going back to age four and TLDR ulitmately had a lot of teeth with large fillings removed after multiple surgeries -- as in "lost track of exactly how fucking many" -- failed to fix the issue. (See: The Bane of my Existence; World War Z: Hard Decisions and Stress Tests.)
Five days ago on January 27th, we threw out something old and, as is the norm, there were multiple little things that followed on the heels of that which also involved health drama amplifying that effect. This morning, I had horror-movie style dreams and I was SCREAMING in the dream and I almost NEVER have nightmares.
In my teens, I read a number of books about dream interpretation and in my twenties when I did therapy, I kept a dream journal. My dreams continue to be a window into my subconscious and some of those dreams are health related.
In this dream, there were two different kind of bugs that came out of my left cheek and I will spare you the details but I think one is a symbol for trypanosomas and the other is a symbol for PA and the biofilm it creates.
These are both iron-loving bugs and I think the dream means that trypanosomas feeds on PA as an easier alterative to feeding on red blood cells and this is likely why my mouth is a hold out of trypanosoma infection. And I think my PA biofilm in my mouth is breaking up and this will help me clear tryapansomas from my mouth (and if you have HIV, which fosters PA, this MAY have implications for HIV patients as well).
I feel like HELL today. I have low back pain, which is immune distress, and I feel like a truck ran me over.
And I think I am on track to finally clear up my PA and this will help me finally get rid of the remaining trypanosomas in my system.
Labeled "less is more" because this shit was triggered by throwing old stuff out. If you are a pack rat and physically ill: start getting rid of shit, stupid.
