[Translation: Lacked a quality title.]

A little art. 9x12's, Ticonderogas, and mechanical on watercolor paper. Not much blog material this time (mid painting, big project and also just staring at the ceiling). 

Ninja-inspired outfit made from scraps of unwanted tee shirts (slapdash tired sewing). French seams, mitered corners, six-panel skirt and first try at drafting a twist top. Swordthing from grandmother #2. Apparently she would go to fields and use it to cut hay for her horses. (It’s a hypermobility brace (turns out flexibility can become crippling) and I didn’t make it- just felt ninja enough to leave on. )

Hat drafted for my dad, an avid headwear enthusiast. Maybe it was meant to be, as our surname shuffled can spell the name of a certain hat?

  Reused a bill/front stiffener from baseball cap. Made from the surviving areas of his new pants that were ruined by bleach on the first day of being worn, lined with the pocket material.

(Unfortunately no available siblings to bribe (with baked goods) to be in photoshoots, so making a goof of myself for the sake of pictures yet again. )

My family has acquired a lot of antique stuff we’re not sure what to do with, So yay for props!  Toy airplanes from grandfather #3 (adopted parent = many bonus grandparents). Drafted the aviator hat for my dad, made from a leather jacket. For go kart riding. It’s a glorious “Is this madman trying to get us killed because this is a rad way to go(?)” experience to go ~35-40 mph in it without seatbelts. (Overalls +dress made years ago so kindofcheating.) 

Got her to be in one photo though!  Pops+props. Outfit also made from tee shirts a while ago.

Iphone attached to short tripod, attached to laser level tripod, precariously chained on top of a swing set and ladder. Delicious(?) drink from the 1996 Olympics + Sign-thermometer-thing from grandmother #2’s barn. Cheating again, outfit was made years ago. 

^Became a weird foreshadow of a “CT enterography.”

*Rewind*

It’s been a weird nine months of trying to get a doctor to help, dozens of blood draws, bouncing between referrals I had to fight for, and kind of wanting to run from my own body as it all falls apart. 

I thought I knew pain. I was wrong.

The only way I can describe it: The handle of a shovel, stabbing into the stomach all the way through to the back. Makes it angry if one drinks, but can’t compare to its fury if one tries to eat.  Stays for hours, stabbing one awake during sleep.

It’s an awkward predicament  of “Any sane person would go to the ER..But I can’t. They will say they don’t know or brush me off.” 

Begged specialist #3 to order a CT. Because, after nine months of not being able to eat enough to support human life (yet somehow surviving), living on pickle juice to prevent death by electrolyte imbalance, crawling up stairs, and losing the ability to lift my arms high enough to brush my own hair, I don’t have much left to lose.

CTs are much louder than I expected. Iodine IVs are rather peculiar. Results:

Transiently telescoping intestines/intussusception Guess that’s why no painkiller will work.

“Extremely rare”...until it happens to you.

Doctor: I’m ordering another scan, CT enterography. 

For this, they asked me to chug 48 oz of unexpectedly palatable sprite-like contrast in 45 minutes, and then injected the iodine. The warmth  of it flowing through the veins. The imaging donut device above. The robot voice saying “Breathe! Hold your breath! Breathe!”...

They weren’t telescoping in this image. Apparently it keeps doing and undoing it, whenever it fancies. Stoked about another clue, so close to the knowing!  Cannot say I’m enthusiastic about an upcoming EGD, a camera tube shoved down the throat, to chop off biopsy bits, but hey, should be an enlightening experience? Chose the full anesthesia knockout option because I’m afraid I’d laugh at the horror of the situation and choke on the scope.

Okay done describing that now, kind of gory. Sorry.

Random curiosity: Were the Dots bracelets actually inspired by hospital wristbands? They appear eerily similar to me but this is the tainted viewpoint of somebody who lived in hospitals for three months. 

 Farewell from these fake flowers.

(Also happy ice cream season and merry exactly-six-months-until-Christmas!)