...taking off the kid gloves...

Wow. So much to talk about.

As I write this, I am four days out of my second stay at the hospital. The first time I went was Saturday, June 5th. I had gotten blood work done at my doctor's office the day before, and she called me on Saturday morning from her home to let me know that the blood count showed I was in kidney failure. Also, my airway was so closed that I couldn't breathe, and that had been going on for days. They kept me in the ER all day, then admitted me to the ICU, where I was for five days, on immense amount of drugs and oxygen, since I couldn't breathe. A few days later they put a scope down into my lungs and found these little bumps called granulomas all over my trachea, and found my airway almost completely closed. The pulmonologist that did the scope said it was the worst case he had ever seen. They gave me a preliminary diagnosis of Wegener's Disease, which is an auto-immune disease that affects the lungs and kidneys. They gave me intravenous doses of Prednisone, which opened my trachea right away, and I could actually breathe and talk again. Also, my kidneys began to come back on their own, miraculously.

They finally let me out after a week, and I went home with Mom to start to recuperate. I was off for mine and Sam's birthday, and we had a fun, cozy dinner with family at Jill's house. Two days after my birthday, I took a shower and almost passed out. My mom and Jill took me back to the emergency room, and I found that my hemoglobin level was 7.4. Normal is around 12. Much to my chagrin, and trust me, I freaked out, they re-admitted me into the hospital. The hemoglobin went down again overnight, and they ended up having to give me two separate blood transfusions. They also took me to GI for two different scopes, and they found that there were a couple dozen ulcers in my colon that were bleeding and causing the loss. We had to wait the weekend for the biopsy results from the ulcers, and on Monday, they told me it was some freak form of colitis that popped up that they would treat with Prednisone, which I was already on. Sure enough, as soon as they let me out of the hospital on Monday night, the bleeding ceased and eventually stopped.

Yesterday I went to see the rheumatologist, who is the expert on all things auto-immune. We expected her to be the one to shed light on this, but after all of her research, she said that there was nothing that points to any auto-immune disease, any form of vasculitis, and certainly nothing at all that points to Wegener's Disease. This was confirmed by the kidney biopsy that we had been waiting weeks for to come back from the Mayo Clinic. If the kidney was diseased, we would know that it could definitely be Wegener's Disease. The kidney, however, came back completely normal, and as I write this, my beautiful little kidneys are at 100%. So basically what they'll do is slowly taper me off of this Prednisone, which is a great drug but has horrible side effects, see how I react, and then let me get back to my life! I can't tell you how much I want to be healthy again. I feel better every day, but I want to be off of this drug. It saved my life, it really did, but it makes me swell, I can't sleep, and it raises my blood sugar so I basically have to follow a diabetic diet, which is a giant pain in the ass. I sleep about seven hours a night, where I used to be able to sleep eleven. Also, it steals calcium from my bones and makes me anemic. I'm on a ton of supplements because of what it does to my vitamin levels.

Basically what everyone is concluding is that my body completely freaked out due to the stress of what Matt did to me. Speaking of that, every day he takes less blame and tries to put more on me. He actually sent Facebook messages to my best friend in the entire world and tried to convince her that I started things, that I was the one who brought it on myself. He tried to convince her that his wounds were darker, and that he was sure I would "claim self-defense", but that he was injured too. He's such a sociopath, I cannot believe it. And I really can't believe that, at the end of his probation, he can request that his record be expunged and everything will go away completely. A domestic abuse offense that he PLEADS GUILTY TO and it can just be erased. This system is an absolute joke. And now he lives in a new apartment, and is making so many new friends, and blah blah blah...wanna know why? Because none of his friends know what he did. He lied to all of them except one and told them that I was a bitch who kicked him out of the apartment. He forgot to mention the fact that he almost smothered me to death and was held in jail without bail on a FELONY STRANGULATION CHARGE.

He texted me when I was still in the hospital and demanded that he be allowed to pick up a cheap ass set of pots and pans that he "forgot" to get during the two hours he was moving his stuff out of my apartment. I told him that he could come get them with a police escort, cuz there was no way in hell I was allowing him to come to my apartment alone. He said no, if I didn't let him come pick them up without a cop, he'd sue me and take me to small claims court. I told him to do it. Any judge would look at the record and laugh at him. Of course he was bluffing, because he's a lying sociopath, and then he started acting all sorry that I was sick and in the hospital. My ass. HE IS THE ONE WHO PUT ME THERE. Not only did he almost kill me that night, but the stress that he brought on me almost subsequently killed me TWO MORE TIMES. He also 'accidentally' took a fitted sheet and an egg crate mattress from my house when he left, which had to be impossible unless he did it on purpose. He said he wanted to return them, along with a letter he wrote, and I told him to burn all three of them. He said he would drop off the letter regardless. I said it would go directly into the garbage.

Why must he continue to torture me? He already did what he did. I have been through so much health-wise. I almost died, my family has gone through all of it with me and have suffered just as much as I have. He has put countless people through so much pain, and yet he refuses to take any sort of blame? He keeps on going and working and living and LYING to everyone, and gets to be happy? How is this fair? I guess I'm 25 years old now, and I should get used to the fact that life isn't fair. But damn, I never thought it would be THIS unfair. I don't want pity, I really don't. I want some sort of justice. I don't think it's ever going to come.