June started calm enough. That should have been a sign that something was going to happen.
At approximately 4:30am on June 4th, I woke up with an uncomfortable awareness and tossing in my sleep. I don’t usually toss in my sleep; I sleep like a log. So this was my first hint that something was off. Two seconds later, it was not just a hint but a fact. Immediately, I knew something was wrong!
I heard a sound inside my ear, and in that instant, I went from groggy to fully awake. Something was crawling inside of my ear. Let me say that again… a live entity was crawling inside my ear.
I’m sure you have a pretty good imagination, but you couldn’t picture the mania I was in at this early hour. I was banging my ear and digging in it, and each thing I did seemed to anger my little explorer.
After two minutes of acting like a dog with fleas, a sudden calm descended. Ignoring my colonizer, I got dressed and called a rideshare. Of course, you know I’m going straight to the Emergency Room.
Fun Note – I had a pretty potent peanut punch that night, and I have a mild lactose intolerance. So 1+1 = poo, and I hate using toilets that aren’t my own. I had to visit the toilet in a panic because I didn’t know how long the wait would be and knew today would be a shitty day. I’m legit panicking as to how I’ll deal with that and be in the hospital.
So, bowels vacated and getting dressed… the critter started acting up again. While in the mirror, I saw a tiny thing emerge. I grabbed it before it could make a U-turn. A tiny spider. A spider! In my damn ear.
I don’t even have cobwebs. Where did this spider come from? I killed it about six times and hopped in the car. Straight to the hospital I went. Small mercies, the hospital was more or less empty. Of course, I lied so I could be seen faster and told them I still felt something in there. After a thorough check confirmed nothing was in my ear, I went to a drug store for some antibiotic ear drops and some feel-good snacks. I was home before sunrise. What a way to open the month, right?
Playing Technician
I also assumed the role of a technician this month. Let me preface this by saying that I have not installed, repaired, or physically troubleshot a machine in years. When my technicians were unavailable and I couldn’t find a replacement, I was forced to step out of my comfort zone. It seems like every month I’m stepping out of that zone, right?
I answered the call and went to La Brea, south Trinidad, to install and train staff on using an ice cream machine. La Brea is famously known for the Pitch Lake, which has the largest deposit of asphalt in the world.
I had so much fun that day. I cleared some goods from customs and did some deliveries around the island. One of the stops was at the British High Commission to deliver an ice machine. When I got to La Brea, with all tools in check, I began assessing the situation and decided on the most effective way. The entire job took 5 hours. The owner, staff, and I were quite happy at the end.
Adventures with Semaglutide
The plan for this month was to start for the 123rd time my weight loss journey. I did a semi liquid diet for a week getting very creative using mason jars. For an added boost I decided to try Semaglutide again. I’ve learned that I’m a bit arrogant. Why else would I think I’m smarter than a nurse? I’ve used it previously and have been struggling to find the right dose. I got my new vials the last week of the month, and the plan was to increase weekly in increments. But impatient, arrogant, know-it-all me thought, “Last time I used this, I went up incrementally to .60, so I think 1 might be my dose.” All this while the nurse cautioned me about the side effects of starting back too high.
I foolishly told her that clearly my tolerance is high, let me start at 1, and I could handle this “nausea” she spoke of. She tried to counsel me, but it fell on deaf ears. I guess she reasoned with the newest adage: “Fuck Around And Find Out.” My gentle reader, FAAFO I most definitely did. It was terrible! The word nausea did not explain what this was. I started with projectile vomit. My toenails curled, scraping the tile, my back arched like a cat about to attack, my hands clenching the sink like a toddler with an item they’re not supposed to have. And listen to me… Catholicism came back to me as I recited novenas like the most devout. This went on for a day and a half. Over 36 hours of agony. I refused to eat or drink for fear of giving the affliction more ammunition. Eventually, it passed, and in its wake, I was left with a damaged back from all the extreme arching. Who knew vomiting was this dangerous? Added to this, I could not tolerate most smells from the kitchen. If this is what morning sickness feels like, it’s another reason I will never be pregnant.
Remember, the dosage is weekly, so after this ordeal, a sane person would never repeat it again, right? The following week, I went to .70, which was the dose I should have started with. Guess who didn’t get any side effects and finally had it work? After all this pain and suffering, I was down about 16 lbs, so… a win is a win, right?
I started the month with trauma and ended it with more trauma. What a June!
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