Man sāp tava galva.

I was going to write in English today, but this title "Man sāp tava galva" doesn't really translate into English well. Best I could think of is "Your head hurts mine," maybe you have a better suggestion?

I'm going to try and be as honest as my fingers and mind will let me. 

I just realised that I haven't changed my facebook profile picture since January of this year. It lead me to thinking why so? and the immediate answer is that I like to change it after I've travelled somewhere new. But the truth is travel hasn't really been feasible this year. 2019 has had immense ups and downs.. Where to begin?

A couple of good friends left work earlier this year, and I got to step into one of their shoes - I got promoted. I had been looking for such change for a while now as I had hit a wall in a sense that responsibilities had become dull.

I signed up to continue studies at OU.

My amazing boyfriend popped the question, and we're getting married next year.


I went to see ENT doctor as my referral from mouth doctor finally came through. Many tests and scans later ....
Tuned out that the lump that had been growing in my neck for years was cancer, or as doctors like to call it carcinoma. Whatever, I call it The C word as the other two arise awkwardness in people. But that's just the beginning! Thyroid cancer is fairly rare. There are four main types, papillary (8 out of 10 cases), follicular (1 out of 10 cases), medullary (1 out of 10 cases) and anaplastic (very rare, more aggressive 1 in 50 cases). While thyroid cancer is more common in women, that is the case only for the first two types. The other two affect men and women equally. The one I had/have is medullary. As the cause and location of the four is different, so is the treatment. However, the primary treatment is surgical removal of the carcinoma. So I was scheduled for that and it was done in May. Medullary thyroid cancer doesn't have specific treatment afterwards as it will differ from case to case. For me, they will monitor calcitonin and CEA levels in my blood forever and if/when they go too high they do something about it. According to the doctor this will happen relatively soon, but they can't know when or where. Then it's either further surgery and/or trial drugs that seem to be doing wonders, but then again, who knows? As the reason for my C is a genetic condition these new drugs should work as they target the RET gene.

So, yes, as it turns out I have an extremely rare genetic mutation (it is hereditary, however I am a de novo case as neither of my parents have it). It is called MEN2B (or MEN3) - Multiple endocrine neoplasia tybe 2b. MEN has different types, and, of course, I have one of the rare ones, because if I have a very rare genetic mutation, why not make it the super rare one? Well, funnily enough this explains ALL the weird things about my body now and while I was growing up. I won't go into them just now, but I would like to finish on a slightly more positive note.

Knowing that I have this rare condition has given me some sort of peace. It explains literally everything that has made me feel like an outsider all my life, and reading all those symptoms has made me feel like I belong somewhere. So through facebook I have found different groups and people; and even people with the same condition. Yes, they are across the world, but I have people to chat to that understand me, and I can understand them.

My now fiance has been my Rock, and my family have been amazingly supportive! ❤

Well this has been me procrastinating, back to the books!

Publish? save.

I don't make stuff up (aka sources)

https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/thyroid-cancer/

https://www.cancer.org/cancer/thyroid-cancer/about/what-is-thyroid-cancer.html

https://www.macmillan.org.uk/information-and-support/thyroid-cancer/understanding-cancer/types-of-thyroid-cancer/medullary-thyroid-cancer.html#12767

https://www.cancer.net/cancer-types/multiple-endocrine-neoplasia-type-2

Je Suis Charlie

Why?

Je suis Charlie because I care.

Je suis Charlie because I have friend who are Muslim, who would never think of killing another human being.

Je suis Charlie because I have friends of many different backgrounds who would never think of killing another human being.

Je suis Charlie because I do not want to see people choosing sides because of what happened in Paris on 7th of January.

Je suis Charlie because I am human and I would not choose to kill innocent people because they have different views as me.

Je suis Charlie because there are better ways to show who you are and what you're made of.

Je suis Charlie we have one planet Earth and we are all responsible for each other.



Je suis Charlie because humans are the kind of species that have the intellect to control their own actions.

Shh, Don't Say a Thing

Her voice was still low, she was quiet, she was about to tell a secret. The silence was daunting, but somehow relaxing. It reminded her that her secret might me kept, and it might not be heard by the world. The room was dim, there were no windows, and just the one door through which she entered. The room was small, it had a round table and some chairs placed around it. There were also a chair in two corners of the room. She sat opposite of the door, at the table. The table was empty, it was unstable, and so was the chair that she sat on. It was hard to stay balanced, she thought she'll fall any moment now. But there she was, hanging in there.
She could hear a weak melody playing somewhere far away. There was no way of determining whether it was played live, or if it was a record playing. She could't even tell the genre of the song, or what instruments had created the piece, but she could hear it, and she knew it was there.

She felt like a rag-doll, worn-out, tired, over-used, and very confused. She was not sure what she was doing in this small room. But deep down she knew, she knew she was here about the secret, she wanted to share her secret. She gulped a huge junk of air, a boulder was still there, stuck in her throat, as if pulling her back from what she was about to do. But despite all, she had to, she needed the weight somehow lifted of off her, at least some part of it.

She then did it, she silently said the words that were burning her mind and her soul. She put them out there, and it felt as if she struck herself with a dagger. Tears stared to poor down her face as if blood was pooling under a never-healing wound. She felt so much pain that it could not be measured in any form, it was passed any scale, it was passed any weight measure, the pressure was squeezing every drop of life she still had in her. She had said those few words that she was meaning to tell someone.

Her eyes gently scanned the room. Through her never-ending river of tears she tried to see what had changed, what had happened.

But there she was
all alone in a small room
sitting on a broken chair
at an old, round table.

Secrets are no longer secrets if shared.

The girls heart is wounded, and she will never be able to fix it.
She picked herself up, in the pace of the fading melody she moved her body across the room to the door, then she left the room.

And it was as if she had never been there.

One

I am one of a kind, not because that's what they all say. And not because it is original to be different, but because I really am like no one else. There are several things that bring me out of the crowd. Tonight, for instance, it is the fact that I learn from my mistakes.
I made a choice once, and I regretted it. And then I felt silly, since I knew that if I hadn't done what I did, then I would still feel the same, but for different reasons. BUT now, I simply know to not do that again.

I am like no one else because I know what I want and I do everything possible to not achieve it. And when I finally do the right thing, I fail. It's pathetic. (But really it's just Murphy's law.) I'm doomed to fail regardless of any other external (or internal) factors.

I'm tired. I want to go to bed, but I can't; not today, not now. I want to say what I think, but I can't.. and I never will, not about this one thing. It's called life. It sucks on every possible level. And yet I enjoy it, it must be the masochistic side of me speaking.

Anywho, I'd like to say one more thing, no several more things, but not now...not ever.





P.S. Men are stupid. (Just so you don't forget!)

How much more?

You don't understand, you never have, and you never will.

How much more do you expect me to pretend? When will you realize that I'm not as strong as it seems? I can't always be there for everyone, I can't always be the shoulder that everyone can cry on, I can't keep drinking everyones sorrow. I've got so much in me, I want to be able to burst. I want you to see how weak I really am. How can you not see that I'm the one who needs help? I need to be able to let it all out. It's burning and it hurts, it hurts more than anything ever has.

I need you to help me to stop this pain. Please, please, open your eyes. I can't pretend to be strong forever.

just talk ?

I was homesick all evening. It sorta killed me, not everything, but a tiny, tiny part of me definately died. I wrote a poem that made me cry when I read over it. It starts off with anger, anxiety, then fast transforms into pain. Not the one you get now and then, but the pain that sits inside all the time and never leaves. And the pain becomes real quiet as the last line concludes, but it's still there, never letting go.
I cried because it starts of so strong, as if I've got the whole world in my hands, but going through the pain the poem becomes powerless, as if there's nothing that can be done to reduce the pain. I cried because it shows how I feel every now and then, it made me sad. I try not to think that way, but I'm never able to control it, not all the way.


I went to a party at the student union today (yesterday that is). I'm pretty sure it wasn't the best thing to do, but hey, better than sitting all alone in my room. None of my friends were there, at least none of those that I say are my friends. So I went there alone hoping to meet someone I'd know. I met my flatmates and their friends. I know they dislike me, but I joined their circle anyway. There can't be anything worse than dancing alone at a party, in my opinion. So right away I start searching for a cute guy. There were a few whom I had noticed previous weeks, but none were good enough. (Ok, there was one, but he already had a girl around his neck.) Quite a few Scottish guys tried some lame pick up lines, and really bad dance moves. Good try, NAT!


There was this really nice guy that I met though. He's Scottish as well but we started dancing together because my flatmates had went for a drink, and everyone else was elsewhere. So for several times during the night we just sticked together so to say. He tried to get me to dance with him, kinda form one of those couples that you see by the end of every party. I said i just wanted to dance, i didn't however mention that I refused his invite due to the fact that HE was the one inviting. We went outside for a smoke. That was him smoking, me just admitting that I had cigarettes with me, just in case I feel like having one, but I stayed off of them and tried to understand what he and and another guy were talking about. (Yeah, the accent is still sometimes a barrier when communicating with people who have never ever lived outside of Scotland.) I found out that he plays in the american football team (so did the guy that I nicknamed Dog, the first one I went to a date in this country). As it turns out there's about 45 of them. And the cute guy with the gal around his neck is in the team as well. Bullocs ? I think so.


I left the party at about 20 minutes before 3 am (the party ends at 3, and it's always good to leave right before everyone does). By now the dance floor had several 'party couples' but not as many as other nights. The room smelled of sweat and upset men. Most of them were still trying to hunt down some gal. I wanted to leave, the image of the place was sad. Very sad, in any possible way. And the worst part was that I was there, a part of the picture. I found my jacket and in no time I was on my way to the student residence. I allowed myself to have one cigarette. Sew me, i don't care, i'm still a non-smoker. I just have a cigarette or two (or more) on days when I'm kinda depressed, or just drunk and stupid. This was a combination of both.

On my way I was thinking, again, about how sad such parties are, so degrating. And I wondered, all this time I've been going to them. Same agenda: drinks, party, dancing, men, dancing, more drinks, maybe a decent guy, getting back to the rez late, hangover next morning. The SAME every friday. Why had I stayed to the same routine almost every weekend since in Scotland. Why? A thrill, meeting new people, drinking, but the main reason was letting all out on the dance floor. Just enjoying the sounds of music and dancing. Just dancing! Yeah, that's why I go back. (Haha, now I know!) So I was walking all alone and thinking, and I realized what I want. The perfect situation that could be. This is what I came up with: I want to talk. Talk with a person who would listen, a person who I would want to listen to. And just say EVERYTHING, that comes across the mind. We'd be sitting on a bench during fall or spring. The weather would be not too cold, but we would have our jackets on. We'd talk in a fairly late evening, the sun would set soon. In front of us would be a view of a city. Any city, but we'd have a wonderful view, just to make it more perfect. We would talk for hours, days if we had to. I really want that to happen, I want to talk, cry if I must, and laugh, of course. Yes, I want to talk, but most importantly I want to find someone to talk to.


I got to my room and drank some water. Had a kit-kat break, hehe. Went to bed and begun writing this post. When I was describing the party, guess what happened. The fire alarm went of. I was considering staying in my room, but the sound was capable of murdering, I had to go outside. Very upset I got on some clothes and was outside. I treated myself with a cigarette, and I apollagized my self when I was done. "Sorry," I whispered. It was cold outside and now the alcohol was no more warming me up. It was about half part four in the morning. I could see in other people faces that I wasn't the only one mad about this.


I'm back in my room now and I think I should get some sleep.


Sweet dreams to all.