No Sense of Time

I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. My boss has been tossing me back and forth between the day and night shifts at the weld shop during the busy season, so my sense of time has been lost. Light, dark… Day, night… My brain doesn’t even know the difference anymore, not to mention my eyes are already jacked up from constantly looking at my welding arc without the proper PPE, making it even harder to adjust. Most days/nights, when I’m home, I just lie in bed covered in a heap of blankets and deep, deep darkness. The two windows in my bedroom have three layers of tin foil duct taped over them (a trick my dad taught me when I was a kid because he worked the graveyard); I never take them down just in case the boss man puts me back on third shift. It’s a miserable life to live never knowing the time of day, let alone what day of the week it is. I hardly ever leave my room anymore since I work almost thirteen hours a day. I sleep, I wake up, I get dressed in a hurry, I work, I come home, I shower, I sleep, I wake up… You get the picture.

Sometimes, however, I do get up to take a piss since, you know, I’m human, though I’m sure some might say I’ve become part zombie over the past two years. The urge hit me last night, so I got up out of bed and stumbled toward the door. I unlocked it and cracked it open slowly to see if any sunlight leaked in. Nope, nothing. It must’ve been nighttime. Luckily my eyes, damaged as they may be, have grown accustomed to navigating in the dark. Making it from my door, down a small hallway, through the living room, down another small hallway, and to the bathroom blind used to be quite the challenge, but it’s almost muscle memory at this point. Typically, if I’m exhausted (five days out of seven, I’d say), I stumble to the bathroom without issue, take care of business, and stumble back to my bed without even thinking; however, last night, as I said at the beginning, I was restless, so my brain was racing at a hundred miles per hour.

Nights like that are always the worst because I have a tendency to get kind of paranoid. You know when you’re a kid and you’re walking up or down a flight of stairs at night and you feel like someone or something is right behind you, creeping ever so slowly to get you, so you run like the wind to avoid being caught? That’s how I felt last night, maybe not to the point of hauling ass through my house, but enough to make me feel uneasy. My night vision is good enough to where I’d see an intruder before they saw me, but still… I get spooked.

I opened my bedroom door fully and walked through the small hallway, then into the living room. I dodged the couch and coffee table, an easy task since they haven’t moved in over three years. The next hallway, well, it can barely be considered a hallway — it’s more a small, L-shaped corridor with a closet on one side and the bathroom door on the other. I made it to the closet, turned left, and boom, there was the bathroom door. I did it! I made it and nobody murdered me! Always a positive thing, right?

I grabbed the cold knob of the door and pushed. The artificial scent of apple cinnamon hit me in the face as I reached for the light switch. Next came the part I hate most: the initial shock of three sixty-watt light bulbs scorching my already pretty fucked up eyes.

The lights shone brighter than ever, causing me to flinch and tightly shut my eyes for a second. It’s crazy that I can make it all the way across my house in complete blackness, but as soon as the lights come on I’m like a drunk at last call, stumbling and flailing about. It was a straight shot to the toilet from the switch, but somehow I still managed to ram my thigh into the marble corner of the sink. I jerked and slammed into the glass doors of the shower, then bounced across a bit and finally stopped at the toilet. The bathroom is all of fifteen feet from the door to the toilet and I somehow managed to hit everything in the room with my body.

As I stood at the toilet, I observed the silence around me and drew in a breath. The only things I heard were the hard stream of piss hitting the water and the slow drip of water in the shower behind me. It is so quiet in the house that it creeps me out sometimes. I’ve lived alone for quite a while, but when I stop and listen to the nothingness, I can’t help but feel paranoid again. Sometimes when I stand at the toilet with my junk in one hand, I move the window drape aside with the other to take a quick peek outside. My brain always warns me that someone’s pale face might be on the other side of the glass staring at me, yet I still do it. Last night was no exception. I pulled the drape back slowly, moved my face closer to the pane, focused my attention, looked out and…nothing. Just the shed out back and an old, skinny tree beside it. I let go of the drape and finished my business.

I flushed the toilet and stumbled back to the light switch. I kicked the door open all the way with my foot and quickly turned the light off. That’s when the fun began. As you probably know, spending more than two seconds in light at night causes you to go absolutely blind once they’re turned off. What was once an easy task was now one hell of a trip back to my bedroom. I slowly walked out of the bathroom with my arms outstretched. Once I hit the closet door with my hands I knew I was good to turn right to head to the living room. I slowly walked the same path I always walk, using my foot as a sort of cane to help feel for the furniture. A few close calls, but I made it to the other hallway. Another straight shot with no obstacles, I brush both hands on the parallel walls of the hall all the way until I hit the threshold of my bedroom. I pushed open the door…

Another trick my dad taught me when I was young is the quick on-off technique. If you can’t see in the dark and aren’t sure where exactly to walk without stubbing your toes, you turn a light on for about a second, take in your surroundings, and turn it back off. He told me it was something he did in my and my sister’s bedroom when he came home for lunch to tuck us in. The quick flash of light wouldn’t wake us up and he could see where all the toys were on the floor, thus avoiding anything breaking or making noise. I utilize this technique quite often, including last night. I flicked my light switch on for a second, surveyed the room, and flicked it back off. I walked in from the hallway, shut my door, and turned the lock. I stepped to the side and felt the edge of the bed on my calf, then slowly shimmied to the side until I felt my blankets, which is my cue to hop back in.

The bed was just as warm as it was when I left it. I settled in, took a deep breath, and stopped for a second, thanking the gods that I didn’t get shanked by ghosts or robbers yet again. I snagged the blankets from the end of the bed and brought them up to my chin. I rolled over to face the wall and felt my phone rubbing against my rib cage. Of course I no longer felt tired, so I decided to browse Facebook for a bit, maybe check up on some old friends or whatever. Why not, right? I brought the phone up to my face and winced when the bright light pierced my eyes. I thought to myself that I’d never get to sleep. Unfortunately for me, it was not because of my state of restlessness or my crippling social media addiction, it was because of something that I didn’t even see.

When I got up to use the bathroom, my paranoia set in. What if someone was in the house? What if something was watching me in the dark? Of course that’s impossible, but what if?

I suppose I had every right to feel that way.

I didn’t see the tall, lanky man sprawled out on my couch as I passed through the living room. He saw me.

I didn’t see the wet, dark-haired woman peering over the glass doors of my shower as I went to the bathroom. She saw me.

I didn’t see the small child hiding in the corner of my bedroom when I quickly flicked the light on and off. She saw me.

And I certainly didn’t see the wide smile and pitch black eyes of the man directly behind me, even though his pale face was illuminated by the blue light of my smartphone.

But I did feel his breath on my neck.

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Breathing and Other New Difficulties

I’m gonna dive right in here: You’ve more than likely been filled in on my whole situation. I mean, how could you avoid it, right? I won’t shut up about it. “My poor lungs,” I bellyache. “My heart is weak,” I bitch and moan. “I can’t even shower without running out of breath,” I complain. I’m mildly sorry if you constantly hear these things, but as of now I think it’s quite alright for me to worry out loud. Bear with me for a while until either A) I’m a bit more “stable” or “normal” in the coming months or B) one of these pesky clots rushes to my brain while I wait in the checkout line at Walmart. Whichever comes first.

If I die young, bury me in SAVINGS!

“If I die young, bury me in SAVINGS!”

Now, for those of you left in the dark, here’s the deal: On Monday December 21st, I decided to help a friend out during a cleaning spree by taking her trash to the dumpster. I had woken up at around 10:30AM and immediately threw some shoes on, grabbed the full bag by the door, and meandered outside, not a care in the world. Once I was about halfway to the dumpster — which is only about a hundred feet from her building’s exit — I began to feel a bit winded. “You’re just fat,” my brain said. “You need to wake up and get your energy back. No biggie.” So I kept going like nothing was wrong. The problem? There indeed WAS something very wrong. I made it to the dumpster and you’d swear at that point I was taking a break from a marathon. I was out of breath, struggling from one gasp to the next. I dropped the trash bag and tried walking back to the apartment, but my equilibrium was thrown off. My ears were ringing, my vision was blurry, my chest was tight and burning, my whole body went weak. Luckily (if I can say that), I made it to the outside apartment door, where I collapsed just as I put my hand on the knob. I waited on my knees for a few seconds as I gathered myself, then picked my body up and stumbled back into the apartment. I made it to the couch and collapsed, trying my hardest not to freak out. Each breath I took hurt like no other. I wanted to burst out in tears and call the ambulance, but my dumb ass decided it was something that would pass on its own. As I rested, my friend came out and told me to migrate to another spot so she could clean around the couch. “No worries,” I said. “I’m about to leave. Gotta go to the doctor. I’m… I’m not feeling too well.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I really don’t know.”

“What the fuck do you mean you don’t know? Do you need medicine? What’s wrong?”

“I… Don’t… Know… I’m going to drive myself to the ER.”

Yes, I drove myself in that condition. I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea, but you know me, man. I’m not one to hinder on other people’s lives with my silly problems. You’d be happy to know, however, that I did make it to my destination.

Which, at first, was not the ER.

I'm an idiot.

I’m an idiot.

Being a stubborn bastard really bites me in the ass. See, before I went to the ER I decided to stop off at my friend Chris’s house, where I had been crashing for the weeks prior to this whole ordeal. Making it there wasn’t so bad, but making it to his door was a chore and even after feeling the pain all over again, I still didn’t go to the ER. No, I went inside, lied down on the bed, and thought about what was happening. Heart attack? Maybe. Pneumonia? ‘Tis the season. A debilitating STD? Yeah…OK. Unsure of what to make of all of it, I called my mom. I wanted to let her know what was going on in the event that I passed out and no one was around to find me. Yeah, another golden idea: CALL MOM AND WORRY HER! Once I said all of what I had to say, she told me to quote “get [my] fucking ass to the fucking ER before [she comes] down there and drags [my] ass.” OK, that was just the shove I needed, so I hopped in my car and drove down to the ER at St. Joseph’s on Broadway, less than a mile from Chris’s place.

Fast forward to my ER visit. I told them what was going on, they ran some tests and scans and whatnot, and immediately informed me that I was to be admitted. After hours of waiting, bouncing around, getting a finger shoved in my ass, and wondering what the hell was wrong with me, I finally got to see a doctor. He came in, sat down, and ripped it off like a band-aid when he said, “Charles, you have pulmonary embolism, which means that there is clotting in your lungs’ arteries and their “branches.” Not only do you have a few clots, you have SEVERAL clots. The damage is quite extensive, actually. Because of this, you also have right ventricular failure, meaning the right side of your heart is dangerously weak and is having an awful lot of trouble pumping blood into your lungs. We’re going to keep you here for the foreseeable future until all of this is sorted out.”

Wha– I jus– I’m only 24? HOW in the ever-loving hell am I dealing with a pulmonary embolism and fucking HEART FAILURE? They checked my legs for any evidence of deep vein thrombosis. Nothing. Nada. They hooked me up to machines, did some Doppler ultrasounds, checked on my heart some more and were baffled when they couldn’t give me a proper answer. These professionals have no idea how or why I have a sh’load of clots in my lungs. The answer they did give me was that I drew the short straw in the genetic lottery and am just an unlucky son of a bitch.

“Thanks for letting me know.”

After eight days of constant blood work, tests, scans, x-rays, etc, that’s as far as we’ve gotten. Seriously. The good-ish news is that I have to follow up with all of this every week for the rest of eternity, so odds are they’ll find out exactly what’s wrong with me eventually. I have to set up an appointment with a hematologist soon because apparently I might have a shitty blood disorder that’s causing my blood to clot up for no real reason other than being diseased. For the time being, I’m on a blood thinner that needs to be closely monitored for the rest of my life and a blood pressure medication that’s helping me not stroke out.

YEAH! MEDICINE!

YEAH! MEDICINE!

The point of this blog, other than to share my story for those who are unaware, is to let you all know that it’s gonna be a while before I’m back to being the old me. My whole life has been put on hold and everything I’ve worked at for the past few months of my life is now on the back burner. I can’t drive long distances. I can’t work until I know my body’s limitations. I can’t drink alcohol. I can’t smoke. I can’t eat leafy greens or other Vitamin K rich foods (this one’s not so bad). I can’t stand up for too long without getting winded. I can’t sit for too long without running the risk of getting another clot or pushing an existing one through my body. I can’t… Well, there’s a lot I can’t do. It’s really doing a number on my mental health right now. I don’t get to hang out with my friends as much anymore. I don’t have a way to spend time with the girl I was hanging out with at the time of the incident. For all intents and purposes, I’m a bruised, sad sack of sickness, loneliness, and helplessness right now as I try to acclimate to this new development. For once in my life, I’m feeling sorry for myself because, for once in my life, I have no idea what I’m doing. Zero percent. There’s not even a shred of life confidence right now.

Life is different.

And I’m scared.

This all being said, I’m trying to at least keep my humor about me. Every time I bring up this predicament or my overall health in a joking manner, please don’t see it as me being pessimistic. While my optimism is not what it used to be, my humor — no matter how dark — is what’s keeping me sane and happy. When a doctor gives you a list of different ways an illness could potentially kill you, you have to find a way to make each day a little easier, to take your mind off of all the negative. Do I think I’ll croak any time soon? I hope not. With a huge change in my lifestyle, I suppose I could someday find some semblance of normalcy in this fucked up situation. The fact of the matter is, however, that these clots aren’t all going to go away. Some will be broken down by my body naturally, but with the sheer amount that are in my lungs, there’s no guarantee they’ll all go away. Does that spell out certain death? ABSOLUTELY NOT.

I’m just saying we should name them all and start betting on which one will bust out of the gate first and race to the finish line in my head.

I’m just kidding! You really think I’m gonna let you get rid of me that easily? Forget about it!

That’s it. That’s all I’ve got. Before I go, I wanna ship out a big THANK YOU to everyone who has helped me through all of this, whether it be monetarily, morally, spiritually, whatever. I have quite an awesome support system that continues to make me feel better each and every day. Much love to you all!

And thanks for reading, you rascals. I’m gonna go count my bruises.

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IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO DONATE TO MY GOFUNDME TO HELP WITH THE COSTS OF ALL OF THIS, PLEASE GO HERE:

>>> CHARLIE’S POST-HOSPITAL COSTS <<<

For Your October Scare-a-thons

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The most wonderful time of the year is here, kids: OCTOBER! I’m a sucker for all things fall, but this month has held a special space in my heart ever since my very first AMC Fearfest back in, uh, whatever year it was. What I do know is that horror movies are my favorite things. No matter how shitty the reviews are for any horror flick, I will make it a point to sit through it and give it my own stamp of approval or, in some cases, rejection. Since I’m a nice fella with nearly flawless taste, I have compiled a list for you guys, a list of some of my favorite horror flicks. (A lot of these movies are on Netflix now, but when I watched some of them they were lesser known gems. Does my animosity towards their “popularity” make me a hipster? Meh, probably, but that’s OK.) To save time and space I won’t go into major detail for any of these, but will instead give you a brief idea of what they are about and my own little opinion to help convince you to grab a friend and some popcorn and watch them with the lights off. Without further ado, here is my list!

SLOW BURNS: Films That Gain Momentum Over Time

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1. House of the Devil – 2009, Ti West – A young college girl offers to house sit for a strange couple, only to find out they have darker, more sinister plans for her. Definitely one of the better horror movies to come out in the past five years. Be prepared to jump.

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2. Frailty – 2001, Bill Paxton – Two young boys witness their father slip into religious paranoia and start killing “demons” for God. Not many people have seen this movie, which is a shame because it packs a serious punch and will have you at the edge of your seat more than once during its runtime.

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3. The Descent – 2005, Neil Marshall – Six women go cave-diving to strengthen their friendship, but soon find that they are far from alone in the darkness. I didn’t originally want to call this a slow burner, but I think the pace is a little slower in the beginning. Personally I would say that this is in my top five of all time. It’s even scarier if you are claustrophobic.

UNSETTLING: Films That Will Turn Your Stomach While You Cower in Fear

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1. Martyrs – 2008, Pascal Laugier – A French film about a woman who seeks revenge many years after being kidnapped and tortured at the hands of a group of people seeking to understand life and death. OK, THIS is my favorite horror flick of all time, hands down. A bloody, terrifying, gut-wrenching spectacle. Watch it NOW!

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2. ABC’s of Death – 2012, Various Directors – Twenty-six ways to die by twenty-six directors. Not much else to say beyond that. (The second one came out today!)

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3. Big Bad Wolves – 2013, Navot Papushado & Ahron Keshales – An Israeli film. After the murders of young girls, a distraught father and a renegade cop decide to kidnap and torture the man responsible. A hard-to-watch yet comedic thrill ride, this will definitely get your blood boiling.

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4. The Woman – 2008, Lucky McKee – A family man encounters a feral woman in the woods and decides to give her his own lesson in humanity, all while his family watches. Lucky McKee (All Cheerleaders Die) can do no wrong. This is arguably his best work.

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5. The Loved Ones – 2009, Sean Byrne – An Australian film about an obsessive high school girl who kidnaps her love interest before prom and ensures that he’ll never leave her. A truly twisted movie about young love and the lengths one girl will go to make a boy appreciate her.

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6. The Girl Next Door – 2007, Gregory Wilson – After her parents pass away, a young girl must live with her psychotic aunt and cousins, who torture, rape, and antagonize her to no end. This one is very, very hard to watch and will stick with you until the day you die.

FOUND FOOTAGE: Films Made In a Realistic Fashion to Immerse You Even Further

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1. VHS & VHS 2 – 2012/2013, Various Directors – Horror shorts that offer up supernatural, realistic, or even extraterrestrial scares, all from the perspective of those involved. The greatest horror series of the past twenty years.

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2. Willow Creek – 2013, Bobcat Goldthwait – A couple goes camping deep in the woods, only to be stalked and harassed by Bigfoot. Though you never truly see the monster, the sounds and practical effects alone are enough to scare the shit out of you.

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3. The Den – 2013, Zachary Donohue – While conducting a social experiment on a site similar to Chat Roulette, a woman witnesses a murder, then starts being hunted by those involved. Innovative in the sense that everything you see is from a laptop, this movie slipped under the radar for most. It’s definitely worth checking out, especially if you enjoyed VHS.

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4. The Upper Footage (UPPER) – 2013, Justin Cole – A group of privileged teens party in a lush loft for a night and accidentally kill a girl they brought over from the bar. It seems so real! Almost a social commentary about how the rich can practically get away with murder, this movie is definitely one that will make you feel a bit uneasy.

ZOMBIES: Films About, Well, Zombies

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1. The Battery – 2012, Jeremy Gardner – Two friends travel together during a massive zombie outbreak, moving from place to place and doing what they can to survive. This one’s a bit different than the rest in that it’s not necessarily violent or scary, but it still stands out as one of the greatest zombie films I have ever seen. I was reluctant to even talk about zombies (since it’s one of the most popular “genres” of today) but then I remembered this flick and felt the need to share the love.

WTF?: Films That Aren’t Really Horror Films at All But Will Still Have You Kind of Creep’d Out

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1. I Think We’re Alone Now – 2008, Sean Donnelly – A documentary about two individuals who are absolutely obsessed with 80’s pop sensation Tiffany. I don’t consider this at all scary; HOWEVER, after I watched it I felt that people can be really, really weird, which is unsettling in its own unique way.

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2. Dear Zachary – 2008, Kurt Kuenne – A man directs a film for a child to remind him of his father, who was murdered by the crazy mother. I won’t say a word about this movie, but be prepared to feel a deep sense of dread, then cry your eyes out.

OTHERS: 10 More Films That Didn’t Really Fit Into Other Categories That You Still Need to Watch

1. Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer

2. Slither

3. Cheap Thrills

4. Would You Rather?

5. Deadgirl

6. Kill List

7. The Snowtown Murders

8. The Devil’s Rejects

9. Splinter

10. Session 9