“I’ve been to a very weird place and the bananas and I don’t want to talk about it anymore…”

Ok, this quote is technically from Drunk History, which, if you have not seen on Comedy Central channel, you must. Winner of 2 Emmy’s. Shameless plug.

That’s an order from one with no authority whatsoever.

Y’all know my body & brain is dorked up right now (“rn” for the texters in the bunch). I’m dealing with

1. No thyroid. none. Zip. How the hell am I still ALIVE?! It boggles the mind and freezes the body. (Dessicated thyroid just “ran out” nationwide last year and many of us were left with this horrid synthetic that only works on people who can recognize crosswalks in online “Captcha” robot tests. “Whoopsie. Our bad.”)

2. Impeding pelvic surgery 1Million.5

3. Low estrogen-don’t even play here. Iz gettin’ tiret of the laundry this creates.

4. Bipolar 2 (low to superlow mood) and

5. Something else unpleasant. I just can’t recall. Low banana count perhaps. Oh yes! Vestibular Disorder Hallucinations. How could I forget those?! The other night Mr. W. came to pat me on my head. I swear. It was, like, real. But not. This is common apparently. I felt loved on in a ghoulish phantom-like way…

The “bananas” quote above is right up there with youtube’s Bacon Drawer, Mr. Bubs, I like To Pet My Dog videos, and Hyperbole & and half’s “PARP!”

Things will get sorted chemically & biologically. I am just in a weird place going bananas without bananas rn. There is no shame when the brain is “Abbienormal”. Like a broken leg, just gotta get the settings right and have the right meds on hand.

No thyroid makes me cold and sleepy, low estrogen gives me nightsweats; therefore laundry, and my Velociraptor pills keep the unreal head-patting at bay, but the new Bipolar2 meds make me a little zany.

I think.

I’m either bouncing off the walls or crashing into them.

Mr. W. says that I’m “animated”. He’s kind. Unless bananas are involved…

(Don’t fret, he fixes in next post).

My doctor had to visibly check the amount of caffeine in my Monster drink last week (at 100mg/can and only partially ingested, it’s less than the tiniest “Grande” coffee out there).

Wup. Need to reel ‘er in I guess.

A lil bit o Honey BooBoo go a long way.

It turns out, the new meds, usually prescribed for day make me drunklike ZANY during day. So, night better. My doc will not bat an eye, she’ll just write “biologically interesting” in my file somewhere.

Anyway, I won’t really know how the new meds affect me until I get, well, life-sustaining hormones.

Until then, the bananas and I will be next to the fireplace, listening to Haydn (carrot-munching music), thinking of Bugs Bunny

and bacon and sausage bits, “Mac”….

Image modified from Bugs Bunny. 1940. Warner Bros.

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