Uncertainty. Not knowing what to expect. This is a running joke written by the writer of my life. They’re on a typewriter in the rain, chuckling quietly to themselves every time they throw in a lupus or a polyp or the death of a friend.

They laugh and I live it.

Uncertainty is inherent in my diseases, including the disease of general life. We all live with it. It hovers above us all. It just feels so ever-present to me. It’s like a cloud above me, ready to rain down at any point. And I ignore it, trying to get on with my day, but it’s there and I’ve forgotten my umbrella yet again.

Ugh, does this even make any sense?

My therapist suggested uncertainty as a blog topic, so I’m trying to write but it’s so hard.

The words are stilted and I’ve been working on this for nearly 45 minutes. I go make coffee, come back. Get breakfast, come back. Write a sentence, feel nauseated, but keep coming back.

Keep coming back, Kaarina.

Keep coming back.



Mac & Sleep

I’m out here in the sun, trying to feel better. I had a minor surgery a couple of days ago and I’m still feeling stiff and crampy and my lungs hurt from being intubated. But it’s a gorgeous day and I’m ready to tackle it, even if tackling it just means watching Netflix and eating mac & cheese all day.

I’ve got some comfort food in the oven, that I threw together from stuff left in the fridge and cupboards. Farfalle, yogurt, cheese, nutritional yeast, hemp hearts, and panko. Oh! And of course, some fresh homegrown parsley on top. It can pass for mac & cheese in a pinch.

Other than that, sleep is definitely on the menu today. And I’d like to write out a Friends story that’s kicking around my brain.

My brain is definitely moving faster than my body today.

What are you watching these days? I’m thinking of rewatching Brooklyn 99. I need something simple and hilarious today. The Netflix equivalent of comfort food.


Mr. Rice Gets New Guts

I sewed Rice myself for home economics class in grade seven. He was so named because, well, he was filled with rice. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Mr. RIce


After *cough* years, Rice started to smell. It was that stale stank of old rice that has lived in one too many basements. Rice was so worried and self-conscious. Did the other Friends hate him now? Was he trash? What would happen to him? What would he be without his guts? A sad sack, that’s what. A very sad sack indeed.

(Not to be confused with Guts the Shark Friend.)



Rice sat and worried and worried about his problem, when Prince came up to him.

“Ahhhh Mr. Rice. You are worried about your putrid smell, yes?”

“Prince, please,” Rice responded wearily. “Not now.”

“Ahhhh, but Prince can solve your problem,” the toad coooed. “You need new guts, Mr. Rice. Only a total gut replacement will do.”

“Gut replacement,” the homemade frog replied. “But without my guts, I won’t be me.”

“Oh, no. No no no no no non,” Prince admonished. “You are not your guts. Your guts stink, Mr. Rice. They really, really stink. They need to go. You know, really Mr. Rice. You will feel better and very much yourself.”

Rice brightened.

“Oh yes, you will feel better than you have in years, Mr. Rice. Just think of your spiffy new polyester gutsssssss.”

“Polyester?!?! But then I won’t be me!”

“Oh Mr. Rice, you will be sooooo much better,” Prince said in his exagerated French accent. “And you will never smell as absolutely terrible as you do right now. Most of the other Friends are polyester, Mr. Rice. Not everyone can be premium beanie baby like Prince.”

“I know, but I’m Rice,” Rice lamented. “I don’t want to change my name to Polyester.”

“Oh hahahaha! Oh Mr. Rice, you do not have to change your name,” the occasionally wise, always arrogant toad laughed heartily. “Mr. Rice, Mr. Rice, Mr. Rice, you are very funny for a frog. Oh ho ho ho ho ho oh!”

Rice did not look amused.

“No, you are very much Mr. Rice, Mr. Rice,” the toad got serious. “You know, Prince calls you Mr. Rice as a sign of respect. Perhaps your new name shall be Mr. Rice.”

“Mr. Rice,” the frog said hesitantly.

“Say it louder, Mr. Rice!”

“Mr. Rice! Mr. Rice! Mr Riiiiiiiiicccccccceeeeee!!!!!!!”

“You kno-ow, Prince is looking for a best friend,” Prince said, wiggling his eyebrows if he had any. “Mr. Rice, if you would do me the honour of best friending. Perhaps weeeeeeeee could have many adventure together.”

So Mr. Rice was blessed with a new name and new polyester guts by Dr. Troy and he and Prince are still best friends and have many wacky hijinks together, some of which will appear in this very blog.

Mr. Rice learned that it’s what’s on the outside that counts when you’re a stuffy Friend (and especially when friends with Prince).


World Sjögren’s Day

Four posts in one day?!?! Whoa, slow down.

I just wanted to make a quick note about Sjögren’s syndrome and how it has affected my life.

I was diagnosed in 2007 or 2008. You know it’s funny, I can tell you the exact dates of being diagnosed with scleroderma and PBC, but the only thing I remember about being diagnosed with Sjögren’s is that it was close to a friend’s birthday. I remember that because I had an eye patch and a cane at her birthday party. I had an eye patch because I had torn my cornea due to dryness.

That’s what Sjögren’s does; it makes you dry out. It attacks the moisture and mucous producing glands in the body, most often showing up as dry mouth and eyes, sometimes affecting internal organs, as everything in the body requires a proper fluid balance.

I have my lacrimal ducts cauterized to make the most of the tears I have. I use drops and a mouth spray and sometimes my kidneys go out of whack for awhile. It contributes to my fatigue and constant thirst.

Sjögren’s sucks.