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Is Frankenstein a Disney Character?

Sometimes I have trouble keeping track of what giant conglomerate owns the rights to which famous movie character… but if good ol’ Mr. Frankenstein isn’t already roaming the streets of Disney World… on Sunday, he will be. Or should I say she. And by ‘she’ I mean me.

Now, I don’t know what the fuck I did or WHO I pissed off to curse me with some seriously bad juju (we’re talking voodoo dolls and hexes), but clearly I did. I mean, how many idiots do you know that can fuck up their entire back just by turning their head left? Just me? That’s what I thought.

Seven months is a LONG ass time to be sitting around in pain with not a damn soul in the medical community who will listen to you- so when my fuckfaced orthopedist finally relented and sent me on my not-so-merry way to interventional pain management, I was slightly overjoyed.
Why? Well, maybe SOMEONE would finally drug my ass out. Little did I know that the word “interventional” when placed in front of “pain management” meant that they’d rather see me curl up into the fetal position and die before giving me any kind of pain medication (and trust me, I could make that happen).
Ok, I thought, that’s fucking FINE then- stab me with some needles! Singe off my nerve endings! Have me stand on my head and sprinkle me with some organic dust or whatever the fuck it is that you do- or hell, just go ahead and tear that whore of a spine out and give me a new one! JUST DO SOMETHING! That’s what they’re there for, to do SOMETHING about the pain you are clearly experiencing.

What in the world could they give the idiot who’s here because she “turned her head left”? What could they POSSIBLY give someone like that?

An electrical fanny pack.

Yes, you read that right. Starting on Thursday (and I had to bitch to get in that early, and by early I mean 7am early) and for the next 3 months I will be the girl with wires coming out of her back attached to a portable unit i’ll have to either shove in a pocket or hook onto my belt loop like a giant fucking pager (a portable TENS unit to be more specific). This includes the trip to Disney.

Now, during the winter time I could hide this eyesore of plastic and wires, but being that Disney is in sunny Florida and it’s forecast to be 85 degrees out every single day… there’s just no hiding it unless I want to wear a damn turtleneck and be even sweatier than I usually am.

I not only fear staring children who have the same lack of filter that mine do and just say whatever the fuck is on their minds (“What’s wrong with that lady??”), but also electrocuting myself.
Sweat, rain, and electric pulses going through my back? That’s ASKING for trouble. And it’s been made very clear that when it comes to luck I am fresh the fuck out of it. Unless by luck you mean BAD luck, and then you can just call me Bill Gates.

There are many things that I can handle as far as humiliation goes, but some little kid walking up to me and wanting to take pictures with ‘Frankenstein lady’ (because you KNOW after getting shocked when my TENS machine shorts out, my hair will be standing on end) is NOT one of them. The children of Disney should be living in fear. Including my own.

Posted on March 12, 2012 by Holdin' Holden 8 Comments
Holdin' Holden

About Holdin' Holden

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8 Comments

  • LOL you poor thing. <3

    Um. Gonna suggest an obvious you’ve probably been asked already: Chirorpractor?

  • I don’t know if I should laugh at the mental image or cry with you! I’m so sorry that you’re going through all of this, and wish that they could just fix you so that you wouldn’t be in so much pain. Just seems like doctors are not being very cooperative in the whole back/neck area for us lately.

    But, you do realize, you are expected to take pictures of yourself all wired up, right? Just sayin’…..

  • So, you’ll be posting pictures on your Facebook page then? Right? Please? Pretty Please… that ought to be about as funny as when I had to read off the list of things my brother had to do before his hernia operation… when I got to the part where he had to shave himself (down there) and , his face turned white, well let’s just say I’ve never laughed so hard in my life… but pictures of this would come a close second. 🙂

  • I will now try to NEVER turn my head to the left. Ever. Your luck sounds as bad as, or worse than mine.

  • I’ve been through something similar and lets just say that buying a few A-line empire waist tunics or longer length cardi’s (like below) to wear with your shorts are not only much cuter than a bunch of wires (or in my case tubes) but are long enough and loose enough to hide the wires and box. Unless you intend to pocket the electrocution-in-a-box, you could do I finally did: get a colorful camera holder that clips onto your belt. It might look a little dorky but people thinking I was toting a camera in a tourist destination was much preferable to the Frankenstien look. Friends of mine have also embraced the music junk look and allowed earbuds to hang draped around their neck and assuming you choose headphones that are the same color wires as the medical related ones, everyone will just think the wires going into your backpack are the headphones for their iPod, not electro-therapy. Still, not always the best look but better than broadcasting what it really is. If you really feel the need, a little medical tape at the start of the day (and depending on activity level maybe redone at nap time) some medical tape or even fashion tape can keep wires from getting in your way. If your skin won’t tolerate the tape on it, tape it to the inside of the shirt, inside of the card if you choose that route, or anything else.

    And yes, I have saw the pictures of you posted here so I know you have the bod to rock this look or similar:

    http://www1.macys.com/shop/product/bcx-sweater-short-sleeve-belted-striped-cardigan?ID=638999&PseudoCat=se-xx-xx-xx.esn_results

  • With a medical reason you can get in the back way to most or all rides where there is a separate line for handicapped or other health impaired. Just bring the papers from your prescription for the treatment, for your diagnosis or anything else that can prove you have a health reason and can make the case that standing in a short line would cause you less pain and discomfort than standing in a long line would.

    We did that years ago when I was undergoing cancer treatments. My reasoning was being in a confined space with people possibly sick with who knows what illness while I had a “compromised” immune system because of the chemo was a risk I should not be taking but did not want to miss Disney. We will also be doing that with my son this May because he has an autism spectrum disorder and cannot handle the noise and chaos of the enclosed rooms the wrap around lines fill to the brim with people. (He tends to have potentially violent meltdowns when he gets into the realm of sensory overload). A lot of things you don’t expect to work as reasons for the shorter line will work just fine; just be creative with explaining why it would help you and bring documentation to back up the diagnosis.

  • I think it may be too hot for a belted cardigan (projected 85 all week)- but you are not the first to suggest getting to the front of the line,
    now.. for a good enough reason.
    I mean it certainly does make me REALLY FUCKING STABBY to stand for a long time, but is that reason enough?

  • If it hurts to stand for extended periods of time then it is enough, especially if you can make the case that it hurts more to stand for a long period as opposed to a short time. If it hurts enough that you would have to limit everyone to only a half day or less (or miss out while they go without you) because you are back in the hotel room icing your back (or electrocuting), that should work too. If your getting in the back way would be the difference because of your back between staying home or going with the fam, then I highly doubt they would question it. If you are still unsure, you can call ahead and explain what the problem is, why it would be extremely helpful to go the back way and ask them if it qualifies. If so, double check with them what proof you might need. I was 7 or 8 when we did it so I’m not entirely sure on proof of diagnosis requirements but they did make my Dad drag me in to guest services, bald head and all, to verify that yes, he was actually taking a cancer kid to Disney and not just getting a pass for himself. We also might have needed different or less proof because our trip then was arranged through something similar to Make-A-Wish. As for the cardigan, I also had several friends who went through chemo and required pain pumps (meaning tubes in place of wires) and they swore by empire waist A-line tops (that same shapeless style they use for preggo clothes actually looks pretty good with regular clothes as it was originally intended). Instead of hugging curves or clinging like a slim tank might, they floated over my much curvier frame and flattered even my post baby bod. All of the ones I had were sleeveless and while I am on the wrong side of the country to do Florida, they were perfectly comfortable for both the dry California summers and even the humidity and heat of Hawaii.