Thursday, May 22, 2008

DeadAndy Strikes Again!

I freaking hate GERD. I hate it, I hate it, I HATE IT!

There. I feel better.
OK, so not really. If it were that easy I wouldn't have been downing (nasty) Carafate four freaking times a day for the last 11 days, alongside my double doses of Nexium.
Yummy.

Seriously though, this is quickly becoming my DeadAndy.

What's a DeadAndy, you ask?
Let me go ahead and put you out of your misery with a nifty little definition from UrbanDictionary.com:

DeadAndy
1) To use a {nonexistent person/person you don't actually know who suffered misfortune/dead person you don't actually know} to seek attention from others.

2) creating non-existent drama/misfortune in your own life to seek attention.

3) bringing up the same personal topic over and over again throughout daily conversations.

Examples of use:
1) "Don't go getting all deadandy on me now."

2) "Jill is such a DeadAndy with her fake illnesses."

3) "Talking about my boyfriend is my deadandy."


So there you have it.
My DeadAndy. And now that everyone knows it, I'm taking it as license to bitch about it as much as I want! (evil laugh)

This GERD crapola has been ongoing for about a month now. Constant nagging heartburn, punctuated by stomach pain and shortness of breath (at least if feels that way, but apparently it's just because my esophagus is massively inflamed). I can't eat ANYfreakingTHING. Everything gives me heartburn.

My Doctor thinks I may have an ulcer contributing. Asked me if I've had an unusual amount of stress lately.

Are you kidding me?! (lol)
Well... no. I'm a stay at home mom, so what could possibly be wrong? After all, I sit on my ass all day watching Jerry Springer and eating bonbons.

Yeah. Think again.
Stress... hmm. I suppose coming into contact with my 27 years absent father could count as stress. As could finding out about 3 siblings I never knew I had. Add that to my general feelings of inadequacy and slight discontent with my current 'job', the fact that my kids seem to have been stolen and replaced with little devils, and yeah... there's stress.

I mean, sheesh. I've always had physical manifestations of emotion/stress, but this is ridiculous. I've had to give up WINE for chrissakes. WINE.
And soda. (sniff) And that's just the tip of the iceberg....

So if you happen to meet me out and about, rest assured - it's not you. I'm incredibly foul due to lack of caffeine and an extreme overload of inane questions from toddlers.

GERD be damned... hand me a Coke before someone gets hurt.