A Strange Thing To Be Thankful For

Yay! My friend Sweet Pea had an ovarian torsion that had caused the ovary to swell to the size cantaloupe! She had to have immediate invasive surgery to remove the ovary!

Why does this make me happy?


Sweet Pea is recovering well. I will be watching her cute son for a few days while her husband flies out to get her and help her home. She was, of course, in North Carolina on a gig when her ovary decided to make its shenanigans known. You know, cause the only thing better than a rotten engorged ovary trying to kill you is an rotten engorged ovary trying to kill you 300 miles away from your husband and child.

I’ll resume my regular ranting tomorrow.

Posted in I like this, dammit. | 2 Comments

Torsion is Better Than Cancer

Sorry I didn’t blog yesterday. I was too worried to concentrate.

My friend Sweet Pea was on a gig far from home when she had monster pain in her abdomen. She has PCOS and it felt like another cyst was busting, which is hella ouchy. She took herself to an urgent care center and they did an ultrasound.

The doctor made a frowny face.

Sweet Pea had a mass on her right ovary the size a child’s fist. He told her to get herself home pronto and make an emergency appointment with an oncologist. Home was unfortunately a 12 hour drive away and she was in a lot of “discomfort”, which is what doctors call it when you are in agony. It was all the not good.

Thankfully, Sweet Pea was surrounded by people who think she is the bee’s knees and jumped in to help. The orchestra coordinator for the gig has an ex-husband/friend who is an oncologist, and he got Sweet Pea in to see a gynecological oncologist this morning. The Gyn/Oncologist looked at the radiology report and said she thinks it is probably ovarian torsion and a cyst rather than a cancerous tumor. She’ll check while she is rooting around inside Sweet Pea.

Torsion of the ovary is a painful, surgery-requiring illness with lots of recovery time so it ain’t fun … but it ain’t cancer. Thus, I am rooting for Sweet Pea to be afflicted with a screwed ovary (a twisted sister?).

Please feel free to join me in hoping my dear friend has torsion of the ovary. You may use the emotional/spiritual hoping of your choice.

I’ll let y’all know when I know, okay?

Posted in health | 2 Comments

The Battle of Gozer Continues

I had a fun little tiff with my mom Monday.

I called to tell her that BabyBro had lied and she needed to take Gozer’s Aspy-ness into account, since she is a de facto co-parent. If BabyBro and TaintFace won’t give Gozer the help she needs, at least my mom can, right?

Did I get that far into the conversation with my mom? Did she ask what she could do for Gozer as soon as she heard Gozer’s autism was confirmed?


Instead she started chewing me out for checking up on BabyBro. I wish I was making that up, but it is true.

She wanted to know why I had called the doctor; didn’t I trust my brother? (Uh, not on this and it turns out I was right to think he was a big ol’ liar.) Why did the doctor tell me? (Because BabyBro had given her permission to tell me and never rescinded it.)  Didn’t I know she had told me what they said in secret? (No, and if I did it wouldn’t matter because 1) I have told no one else but the doctor and 2) I would have still fact-checked his lying ass.) Etcetera, ad nauseam.

It was a full-out harangue, y’all. Like I was the one who had lied to her and was doing something harmful to Gozer. WTF?

Meanwhile, I kept trying to change the topic to Gozer, since I don’t give a shit what BabyBro and TaintFace are lying about outside of that topic. That’s when mom started sputtering and snarling that it was none of my business whether Gozer had Asperger’s or not.

So my niece’s health and well-being is not my business? I have no right to try to make sure she is getting what she needs? I have no right check up on the lies her own parents are telling about her? I’m just supposed to abandon her to her fate because that is what is “easiest” for the “family? Turn away, pretend I don’t see and pretend I don’t know?

I can tell you from the bitter experience of the little girl’s point of view that if all the adults in her family implicitly teach her that she isn’t important enough to “cause problems” for the menfolk of the family, then it SUCKS DONKEY TAINT.

Since this had now triggered my PTSD and I was getting incandescent with rage, I told mom I needed off the phone right then before I truly lost my temper. I have had at least three therapists tell me the best way to handle mom’s passive-aggressive attacks is to walk away when my PTSD temper starts to trigger so the conflict won’t escalate. After  all, the goal is conflict resolution in these situations and escalating a fight would exacerbate it.  I have spent years in therapy learning how to deal with the pain mom occasionally inflicts on me without needing or trying to get retaliation.

In response, my mom shrieked, “Fine! You bully!” and continued to chant/scream “bullybullybully” as I disconnected the call. It was behavior best suited to a particularly immature tween, and it irked me.

Why did she call me a bully, when walking away instead of retaliating is the opposite of bullying someone? In short, she knows that bully is a “bad” thing to be and used the term around to hurt me or “punish” me for not letting her “win” the fight. In short, she was using the word bully to hurt me and try to coerce me into being docile and to gain domination over me. She used the word bully to be a bully. My head would explode with the irony if I weren’t so used to it.

Then again, she was probably unaware of the irony. In mom’s world, fights are never resolved – they are won or lost. If she didn’t feel that she won, QED she must have lost. That means that I must have won! If I won, then I am a bully! Thus, she doubtlessly feels justified in calling me a bully.

People using words wrong drives me bananas. My angst that she called me a bully without context or veracity is  nothing compared to the Aspy rage of incorrect verbiage.

She also uses the word anal (as in anal personality) wrong. She thinks is equivalent to asshole. For example: “That person is so anal. They never finished painting the baseboards of the church after they started it.” That’s not directed at me, but it is like nails on my autism blackboard nonetheless.

I am glad Gozer is worth a lot of pain, because that is exactly what I am getting in trying to help her. I feel like the latest casualty on the War on Whistleblowers; no good deed goes unpunished. 

Posted in are you kidding me with this shit?, Asperger's and Autism Spectrum, irony set on "stun", life as I know it, motherhood, scared for life, victim blaming | 1 Comment

Gozer Has Autism

While I was home, my mother told me I didn’t need to worry about Gozer any longer. My BabyBro had told her the doctor had called him to tell him Gozer was Autism Free! Wasn’t that good news?

I thought to myself, “Bullshit.”

Thus, I called the doc when I got home. BabyBro has never rescinded permission to tell me things; he said she could tell me whatever I asked about Gozer as long as she never gave it to me in writing. The doc and I used that wide-open window to discuss Gozer.

Does it surprise ANYONE to learn that the doc had actually called BabyBro to confirm that Gozer had Asperger’s?

She also let him know that the full report would be coming in 4 to 6 weeks. I can only assume he would have kept that on the down low or flat out lied to my parents about it as well.

Why would he lie? To protect his wife, of course. I think he rationalized to himself that if Gozer didn’t have Asperger’s, then I would somehow be “at fault” for the “fight” and that there would be family pressure for me to apologize to TaintFace.

Considering the fact that the “fight” was over her phoning me shrieking and name-calling at 10:30 PM, how could he possibly think lying about Gozer’s autism would make the fight go away? Simple. He has “remembered” the event in a context most favorable to TaintFace, of course.

This is how far he will go in his own head in order to justify his love for that insane asshat. This if how far he will go, even so far as to lying about his child and denying her the help she needs, in order to keep that batshit twatwaffle he married from “looking bad”.

He loves his daughter; I have no doubt. Nevertheless, he puts his wife’s needs ahead of the needs of his children and that disgusts me to the soles of my feet.

I need a much stronger word for disgust to explain what I am filled with toward TaintFace. Ur-loathing? Uber-sneer?

When I out him to our parents as a liar, (which I have to do so they can understand Gozer HAS autism) I will guarantee that he will start attacking the doc’s credentials to try to “undo” the diagnosis. You know, because PhDs in clinical and educational psychology and 20 years of experience mean nothing compared to TaintFace’s need to be right. Gozer’s best interests mean nothing compared to TaintFace’s need to be right.

I am so fokking pissed off right now.

Posted in are you kidding me with this shit?, Asperger's and Autism Spectrum, irony set on "stun", life as I know it | 4 Comments

Just Tryin’ To Make Her Purdy

I and the munchkins went to my parent’s house last week. Since my mom takes care of Gozer and Gamer as many as 5 out of 7 days some weeks we got to see both of them. Spock was very happy to see Gozer and there was much playing of games. That first night, they decided to share a bed because sleepover!

This was, in hindsight, a mistake on Spock’s part.

Spock fell asleep, and she sleeps very soundly. Gozer was, in contrast, still wide awake. That’s when sweet niece got the idea to do Spock’s hair and makeup so that she would be all “purdy” in the morning when she woke up.

The first thing Gozer did was to put a bright blue flower clip in Spock’s hair. It was lovely, and she wanted suitable makeup to match. Guess what she found in the bathroom that was the same bright blue color as the flower? Yes! Kid’s bubble-fruit toothpaste!

Gozer applied the toothpaste liberally to Spock’s bangs. That looked so purdy that Gozer unbraided Spock’s waist-length hair and decorated it with even more toothpaste. A whole tube full in fact. I have to admit that the color matched the flower clip perfectly.

Once she was done with Spock’s hair, it was time to do Spock’s makeup. Gozer found a small tube of pink lip gloss and squirted it all over Spock’s mouth, only getting a glob or two up Spock’s left nostril. This would have worked better all around if the “lip gloss” had not been my grandmother’s Fixodent denture adhesive. In fairness, the Fixodent was peach with a pearly sheen so it could be easily mistaken for lip gloss.

For her next trick, Gozer selected my mom’s eyebrow pencil. To make sure it was JUST the right color, she tested it by drawing all over the guestroom bedding. The bedding happens to be mint green sheets and pillowcases made of high thread count Egyptian cotton that were hella expensive. Did y’all know that eyebrow pencil will make a mark with Sharpie-like resilience to washing? I had not known that. Now, I do.

After decorating Spock’s face with lush eyebrows and what I can only assume were tribal tattoos, Gozer looked upon her handy work and saw it was good … but not great. She needed eye shadow and blusher that matched the blue in Spock’s hair. Gozer then climbed to the top of the bathroom cabinets like a monkey and got down a brand new tube of kid’s bubble-fruit toothpaste. My mom had thought she had put it out of reach, since Gozer loves to squeeze toothpaste tubes. My mother was deluding herself.

It was only after Gozer had gunked on the “eye shadow” that Spock awoke. Sticky and upset, she fled to the living room where her clueless mother and Granny were watching TV. She went to Granny’s rocking chair first. Granny’s screams of dismay quickly alerted me that all was not well. Unfortunately, they also made Spock start crying. Toothpaste in the eye stings and Fixodent makes your nose stuffy, so crying was Not Good.

I hustled Spock into the shower wherein I saved her from a life of goop, while Granny tracked down the culprit responsible for my daughter’s clown face. Gozer, having heard Granny scream, knew there was trouble in the wind and had absconded.

My mom’s house has, because of door placement, what is basically an endless loop for a kid to run on. Gozer is FAST. Granny is SLOW. Thus, every so often I would see Gozer streak by the bathroom door, mere inches beyond Granny’s reach, running like the blazes and shrieking “I was just tryin’ to make her purdy!” at decibels more suited for a firetruck’s siren.

Spock’s hair, face, and nostrils were successfully cleaned. Gozer was eventually caught, fussed at, and put to bed in another room, a cruelty which made her wail piteously. The sheets on Spock’s bed were changed and my daughter returned to the comfort of fresh linen. As I kissed her goodnight, she told me “Making people pretty without asking is rude.” The next day she and Gozer played together like normal, as though the curious incident of toothpaste in the nighttime had not occurred.

Granny’s mint green bedding, however, will never be the same.

Posted in Asperger's and Autism Spectrum, daughters, motherhood, scared for life | 2 Comments

Life with Muggles

We are all Harry Potter fans in my house.

Thus, we call people who do not have a serious level of non-neurotypical issues “Muggles”. We do that because it is such a convenient shorthand. Muggles can be great. They are fascinating and sometimes baffling. They can be brilliant, and the fact they are normal makes them no less amazing. Most importantly, it reminds us that since Muggles outnumber us everywhere but Hogsmead and Hogwarts (AKA: engineering and software development offices) we need to adapt to them.

We call social skills training “Muggle Studies”. It makes us happy.

Stitch has further categorized people into Muggles and Muggle-Muggles. Muggles are people who don’t have an issue like OCD or Asperger’s but have been around someone who DOES have issues long enough to “get” why we’re carrying a wand and wearing a robe, so to speak. Muggle-Muggles are nice people who haven’t knowingly met a non-Muggle before and our quirks cause them consternation. Mean people who think we are “wrong” because we are different aren’t Muggle-Muggles. They are asshats.

People who are non-Muggles but INSIST they are Muggles are Squibs. People who ignore or deny that their children aren’t Muggles are Idiots.

Yes, we like thing sorted into their proper categories. Go figure.

I’m at my parent’s this week with my friend Sweet Pea. Sweet Pea’s son got his letter from Hogwarts, too. I think Sweet Pea and MAYBE baby Spock are the only Muggles in the house. My mom is a Squib, because she thinks her OCD traits are “normal”. She is a ‘people person’ like many Muggles. Mom and Sweet Pea sit and talk and socialize and it looks like they are happy. I do it too, happy to be with them for a few hours. Then I want to go type because that’s enough talking for me for now, thanks. I have blogs to write. I have books to write. I have non-talking I need to do.

My mom will then follow me over to the computer and start talking. Because I love my mom and don’t want to be a rude dickhead, I respond. Sweet Pea comes back into the room and joins mom at the table, because when people are sitting and talking Sweet Pea is too polite and friendly to just pass ‘em by – especially if she is staying in their house. That means I am socializing again. Huh.

This is a conundrum for an Aspy.

I am not so much with the blog writing. I am not so much with any writing. I’m only writing this now because Mom and Sweet Pea are watching a movie with the girls like good people who are involved in the lives of their loved ones. Sweet Pea’s son is out here with me, on his iPad, pleased as punch he isn’t interacting with my kids even though he loves them and they are some of his best friends.

This is what it is like to be on the Spectrum.

Now excuse me while I collect my owl and head to Platform 9 & 3/4.

Posted in Asperger's and Autism Spectrum, I've been thinking too much | 5 Comments

I am all over the interwebs again!

I have a guest post up over on Smart Bitches/Trashy Books, this time a review of Nora Robert’s book Whiskey Beach as part of the RITA challenge. The SB/TB challenge is to have romance fans “on the street” review books that have been nominated for a Romance Writer’s of America author award, which is” named after RWA’s first president, Rita Clay Estrada, and has become the symbol for excellence in published romance fiction.”

Head on over and comment on my review!

Posted in I like this, dammit., reviews | Leave a comment