12:01 a.m. Monday.
Today (Sunday) I broke the 100# mark. Finally.
If I lose eight more pounds, I will have lost the total sum of what Karen Carpenter weighed at the time of her passing. This is not to be glib. Just stating a fact.
Another fact many folks (who went to school with me, and who *may* have tormented me mercilessly in junior high) might NOT know about me, is during high school, I, too was anorexic.
In 1982 when I started high school as a freshman, my lowest weight was 109#, at 5'7" tall. When Karen Carpenter passed away, she was all of 5'4" and 110. She would have been in her 62nd year, if she were alive today.
30 Years later, AT THIS VERY MOMENT, I finally have the awareness of how very lucky I am.
Rainy Days and Mondays
Monday, December 17, 2012
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Iron
My iron levels are still on the low side due to both, the WLS and my adenomyosis. The Feosol isn't cutting it, apparently. Bariatric NP put me on Corvite. I started taking it today. Heaven help my colon. I had impaction issues w/the Feosol. I'm wondering what a heavy duty, Rx iron supplement will do to my ass.
Tablet is big enough I need to split it, and of course, only after I swallowed both halves, did I get the idea that perhaps I should try taking 1/2 a dose at a time, coincidentally w/a chewable vitamin C.
Tablet is big enough I need to split it, and of course, only after I swallowed both halves, did I get the idea that perhaps I should try taking 1/2 a dose at a time, coincidentally w/a chewable vitamin C.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Pain Chronicles: The Litany (1)
If you were curious about what's all that bitching I do about pain, herein is the full list of issues I have, starting from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, and everything in between.
Head: Migraines suffering from them since the early 1990s. Actually been hospitalized thrice for them.
Neck: Herniations nr. C4/C5 sustained when I was rear-ended by an 18 wheeler in 1999.
Shoulders: "Rib head" pops out of place. REGULARLY.
Low spine: Diminished disk space L5/S1 (though hip dysplasia and or degenerative disc disease/disorder runs in my family).
Left hand: Dominant hand. Carpal tunnel. Mild-to-moderate case. Some days my hand is so spastic I cannot sign my own name without stopping three times because the way I write my name pinches the nerves in the wrist and elbow. Problematic since doing excessive, now-needlessly obsolete stenography drills in secretarial school in the mid-1990s.
Low abdomen: A "mild" case of adenomyosis, which is kind of like garden variety endometriosis... IF IT WERE ON METH, CRACK, AND ACID. Diagnosed officially in February of this year, and it's getting progressively more painful and uncontainable each successive month. Searing, agonizing pain that is isolated in the region between my navel and my kneecaps, ranging from a dull throb, to a persistent agonizing pulsation of hot lava like HURT deep in my marrow. As a result of this, I am now considering a medical procedure to manage the physical pain; however, it will then officially put the kabosh on the entire notion of me having a child of my own. I'm 44. I'm just not up to the challenge and thanklessness of motherhood. EOS.
Low abdomen: "Impactions."
Right Hip: "Hip Pointer." WTF Been problematic since a forced road march with a 40 lb pack in basic training.
Knees (both): Dx: the LCL's were compromised in two falls, one in winter 2009, one in spring 2010. Though to be honest, the pain is deep in there where most anatomical charts would indicate the meniscus.
Feet (both): Heel spurs, plantar fasciitis, corns, and the newest addition to the Pain Chronicles Litany: My big toes are not level with the rest of the bones/toes (actually is lower than the rest), thus causing my feet to cantilever like a see-saw in my shoes (thus causing the corns; and is contributing to my overall balance issues).
The fact that I take about 4-5 vicodin a month, I would say is judicious given the aforementioned.
And yanno what? In a very sick twisted way, I'm glad for these burdens. I see some of the truly life threatening, persistently miserable things that other folks are enduring in their lives, and I am thankful that at a minimum my issues are being managed, and it's only about 1/3 of each month that is directly impacted by the assortment of burdens I have, which at times feels like I'm being Karmic-ly double or triple teamed.
Dear inventor of hydrocodone: You are a saint!
Signed,
Me
Head: Migraines suffering from them since the early 1990s. Actually been hospitalized thrice for them.
Neck: Herniations nr. C4/C5 sustained when I was rear-ended by an 18 wheeler in 1999.
Shoulders: "Rib head" pops out of place. REGULARLY.
Low spine: Diminished disk space L5/S1 (though hip dysplasia and or degenerative disc disease/disorder runs in my family).
Left hand: Dominant hand. Carpal tunnel. Mild-to-moderate case. Some days my hand is so spastic I cannot sign my own name without stopping three times because the way I write my name pinches the nerves in the wrist and elbow. Problematic since doing excessive, now-needlessly obsolete stenography drills in secretarial school in the mid-1990s.
Low abdomen: A "mild" case of adenomyosis, which is kind of like garden variety endometriosis... IF IT WERE ON METH, CRACK, AND ACID. Diagnosed officially in February of this year, and it's getting progressively more painful and uncontainable each successive month. Searing, agonizing pain that is isolated in the region between my navel and my kneecaps, ranging from a dull throb, to a persistent agonizing pulsation of hot lava like HURT deep in my marrow. As a result of this, I am now considering a medical procedure to manage the physical pain; however, it will then officially put the kabosh on the entire notion of me having a child of my own. I'm 44. I'm just not up to the challenge and thanklessness of motherhood. EOS.
Low abdomen: "Impactions."
Right Hip: "Hip Pointer." WTF Been problematic since a forced road march with a 40 lb pack in basic training.
Knees (both): Dx: the LCL's were compromised in two falls, one in winter 2009, one in spring 2010. Though to be honest, the pain is deep in there where most anatomical charts would indicate the meniscus.
Feet (both): Heel spurs, plantar fasciitis, corns, and the newest addition to the Pain Chronicles Litany: My big toes are not level with the rest of the bones/toes (actually is lower than the rest), thus causing my feet to cantilever like a see-saw in my shoes (thus causing the corns; and is contributing to my overall balance issues).
The fact that I take about 4-5 vicodin a month, I would say is judicious given the aforementioned.
And yanno what? In a very sick twisted way, I'm glad for these burdens. I see some of the truly life threatening, persistently miserable things that other folks are enduring in their lives, and I am thankful that at a minimum my issues are being managed, and it's only about 1/3 of each month that is directly impacted by the assortment of burdens I have, which at times feels like I'm being Karmic-ly double or triple teamed.
Dear inventor of hydrocodone: You are a saint!
Signed,
Me
Monday, November 12, 2012
Friday, October 26, 2012
My Journey Is My Journey; and Your Journey Is Your Journey
I'm having one of those days where I got one of those scared straight type of chills up my spine. Kinda foreboding or at a minimum, a warning for me, if I were to ever think for one moment, that as a WLS post-opper that I am ever going to be "normal."
I'm having my first lunch, a pint of wonton-egg drop soup, and a friendly co-worker is there too. Unexpectedly. So we sat and chatted. Talked very briefly about a scenario where another co-IRKER of ours is grating on my last nerve, the last interaction of which involved him grabbing a piece of candy off another co-worker's desk and attempting to hand it to me, KNOWING, VISIBLY, OBVIOUSLY, I've lost A LOT of weight, and perhaps I'd like to keep it off, he said, "As if you're not sweet enough..." and attempts to hand it to me. I wave it off and say thank you and try to get on with it. Anyway... back to lunch...
So lovely co-worker and I were talking and he mentioned in passing, in hushed tones, "You know who's gaining weight?" And I nodded. "I know." It's She-who-is-the-workhorse in the office. Management has not even attempted to get us a temp to help cover phones while the Slacker is on maternity leave. Even though "I" take my allotted lunch hour (though I don't take my 15 minute breaks as our union contracts ensure), SHE takes it upon herself to sit at her desk and work through lunch. Which, to be blunt, is unhealthy, and I dare say could lead to undoing a lot of her good work. I said as much to lovely co-worker, and we got on with our lunch.
But it's worried me long before this chat. I noticed in passing that SHE seemed a bit heavier. I didn't know if it was weight gain or if it was just wearing more form fitting clothing or what. It's none of my business. I'd love to just say to her, "You must look out for your health and well being. At least get up and walk around in the afternoon sun. Don't let this place destroy all your good work." But I thought the better of it. It's truly none of my business.
I mean, I'd want to be supportive. I don't want to seem like the newly converted, as I'm still less than two years out from my own surgery. Who am I? How dare I even THINK of meddling in someone's personal shit, yanno?
Where does meddling truly start and support actually end?
But it IS sobering. I pack a lunch every day. Granted, I eat what I want, but measured amounts. I know I'm not active. Not by a long stretch, whereas SHE IS.
Our journeys may have had similar starts, and similar paths, but like everything in life, I cannot compare my journey to someone else's. I'm only responsible to myself FOR myself and my actions.
I guess I should just wish her well in the cosmic sense of wishing well, and hope this place doesn't eat her (and all her good work) alive.
I'm having my first lunch, a pint of wonton-egg drop soup, and a friendly co-worker is there too. Unexpectedly. So we sat and chatted. Talked very briefly about a scenario where another co-IRKER of ours is grating on my last nerve, the last interaction of which involved him grabbing a piece of candy off another co-worker's desk and attempting to hand it to me, KNOWING, VISIBLY, OBVIOUSLY, I've lost A LOT of weight, and perhaps I'd like to keep it off, he said, "As if you're not sweet enough..." and attempts to hand it to me. I wave it off and say thank you and try to get on with it. Anyway... back to lunch...
So lovely co-worker and I were talking and he mentioned in passing, in hushed tones, "You know who's gaining weight?" And I nodded. "I know." It's She-who-is-the-workhorse in the office. Management has not even attempted to get us a temp to help cover phones while the Slacker is on maternity leave. Even though "I" take my allotted lunch hour (though I don't take my 15 minute breaks as our union contracts ensure), SHE takes it upon herself to sit at her desk and work through lunch. Which, to be blunt, is unhealthy, and I dare say could lead to undoing a lot of her good work. I said as much to lovely co-worker, and we got on with our lunch.
But it's worried me long before this chat. I noticed in passing that SHE seemed a bit heavier. I didn't know if it was weight gain or if it was just wearing more form fitting clothing or what. It's none of my business. I'd love to just say to her, "You must look out for your health and well being. At least get up and walk around in the afternoon sun. Don't let this place destroy all your good work." But I thought the better of it. It's truly none of my business.
I mean, I'd want to be supportive. I don't want to seem like the newly converted, as I'm still less than two years out from my own surgery. Who am I? How dare I even THINK of meddling in someone's personal shit, yanno?
Where does meddling truly start and support actually end?
But it IS sobering. I pack a lunch every day. Granted, I eat what I want, but measured amounts. I know I'm not active. Not by a long stretch, whereas SHE IS.
Our journeys may have had similar starts, and similar paths, but like everything in life, I cannot compare my journey to someone else's. I'm only responsible to myself FOR myself and my actions.
I guess I should just wish her well in the cosmic sense of wishing well, and hope this place doesn't eat her (and all her good work) alive.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Not Much New To Report (Or is there?)
Still plateau'ed since roughly January. I keep vacillating between 2-5 lbs lose/gain.
No new health issues, problems or improvements, though my surgeon is convinced I'm done w/the passive weight loss from the surgery and is strongly urging me to exercise. I can't seem to wrap my brain around it, as anytime I exert myself, I end up paying for it for days in the form of joint pain. So to exercise to the point of sweating and sustaining that just seems counter-intuitive to my joint pain.
I had an a-HA! moment a month ago when I realized what part of my problem (vis-a-vis procrastination) is: my mindset. I am a fixed mindset whereas I need to have a more growth oriented mindset. Problem is, I don't know how to change it. I'm fairly well FIXED and rooted in thinking the way I do, and being the pragmatist I am, I can talk myself out of doing things for fairly legitimate reasons.
For instance, I cannot allow myself to do something if there's even a remote question of whether I'll fail. It's not so much based out of a fear of failure, but out of having JUST THAT MUCH VALUE in my time, my precious commodity. I'd much rather spend my time doing things I love, or things I know I'll excel at rather than vanity tripping or doing what amounts to exercises (excuse the pun) in futility.
I know that my mindset is at the root of what is preventing me from living up to my potential in my career, my life, my health, my happiness. I can and HAVE intellectualized that I need to change, but I get overwhelmed and distracted, and don't have a clue how or where to start with the actual change. In keeping with my personality and this quirk of mine re: potential for pain or failure, it takes a very long time before I act on anything. I am like a terrier with a bone, chewing on it, thinking about it, burying that bone for a while, digging it back up and chewing on it some more, until something new and shiny comes along to distract me.
Dad's birthday was this weekend, and the grief sucker punched me again. I had signed up for a home repair and remodeling class run by the local college, only to find out that it's not hands on (which might as well = TOTALLY USELESS for me, a visual learner) and mostly lecture based.
On top of this misrepresentation (the brochure clearly does not state it's lecture only), the instructor was sub-standard, IMHO, for an instructor at a college. Picture, if you will, Mr. Fucking Magoo. Deaf as a stone. Blind as a bat. Patronizing to all the females in the class. Running thru the inventory of tools everyone needs in their tool box and demonstrating, "This is a hammer. This is a screw driver. This is a tape measure." etc etc.
Allegedly the instructor was a professional contractor (obviously MANY YEARS AGO), and he banks heavily on the fact that at some point in the past he was either ON a radio show or HOSTED a radio call in handyman show. So you would have a reasonable expectation that his tools would be in a tool box or at a minimum a tool belt. Not Mr. Magoo! Oh no. His dust bunnied, cob webby tools were thrown into a shopping basked pilfered from Pathmark.
When one of the two gentlemen of the class stopped him, as he was going into detail to the women about the need for a 25 foot tape measure (so we could hang our drapes, because all women are concerned with draperies, don'tchaknow), the gentleman wanted to know HOW to use the tape measure, or have the instructor tell us what the tick marks on the tape measure indicated, the instructor then suggested the GENTLEMAN show us (um, why then did the gentleman pay $110 + a $5 materials fee* if the GENTLEMAN was expected to teach the class?). Needless to say, it didn't take long after that for the gentleman in question to realize that this class is not what he (or any of us, for that matter) expected, and as respectfully and diplomatically as he could, let the instructor know this before he left the lecture hall.
*Also worth noting, the "materials" consisted of a folder with fasteners (which were not used, because half the hand outs/leaflets were not 2 hole punched) and the contents appeared not to be class materials, but hand outs anyone could get at hardware stores and Home Depot. Allegedly our $5 went towards the "collating" of everything. Um. Yeah.
So for the next 45 minutes, Mr. Magoo was distracted, and constantly trying to move the female students closer around him. We all were sitting in reasonable and expected spots in the lecture hall, but this guy was so controlling, perhaps in part because of his blindness and deafness. Now I must come off as someone who is anti-handicapped, when in reality, I spent $110 of my hard-earned bucks for a class led by an instructor who is incapable of COMMUNICATING. Get a miracle ear, buddy!
And as if all that were not bad enough...
The man stood there with his nose running like a dripping faucet. Literally. DRIP DRIP DRIP. No ubiquitous old man hanky or bandana. Hell, he didn't even use the cuff of his shirt or sweater to blot the drippage. No. He let it drip and let it land where it may... half the time on the front of his shirt... and the other half the time DIRECTLY IN HIS MOUTH. So as if he was not scatter brained and patronizing ENOUGH to distract me from what little viable information he might share, he was disgusting to look at. How am I expected to sit there and be expected to learn anything when the sight of his sinuses leaking directly into his mouth (and causing me to sit there and silently dry heave to myself at the sight of this)?
So with approximately 40 more minutes to go, I couldn't handle sitting there one more moment longer, I excused myself to go to the ladies room. I left my packet of information on my desk, to give the implication I was returning. But the moment I walked out of the lecture hall, I headed directly to my car and promptly called the registrar's office and roundly and thoroughly voiced my displeasure at the class being misrepresented. And of course, a refund was out of the question as I should have dropped the class two days beforehand. An offer was made that I could take another class that started up, yet there I was in my car, without a brochure. So Monday I emailed the director's office to expand on how this class wasn't what anyone expected it to be, only to find out due to the holiday she was out of the office until Weds. I've followed up with another email, but somehow, I know they just don't give a shit. Perhaps I'll check out Yelp and see if I can post a review about this... so I can spare some other poor unfortunate, well meaning souls from taking this class.
Anyway... my reality... how my grief sucker punched me...
I took this class because, sadly, I did not have enough time with my dad so DAD could show me simple things like swapping out electrical sockets or how to remove the elbow joint of my sink to clear a clog etc. I had hoped to reconnect with my dad in that handy way he was. And yet, thanks to Mr. Magoo, that opportunity was taken away. The weekend was just yet another reminder of the profound loss I still feel, at dad's passing. It would have been his 71st birthday (and would have been his grandmother's 121st birthday, too).
I talked at length with my therapist, and tried to get both themes discussed, the mindset a-Ha! and the grief, and how I feel like on some level my grief is sabotaging me, or perhaps subconsciously I'm using my grief as an excuse not to address what needs addressing. (among other themes discussed).
Anyway. Like I said... not much new to report, just apparently, a whole lotta noise.
No new health issues, problems or improvements, though my surgeon is convinced I'm done w/the passive weight loss from the surgery and is strongly urging me to exercise. I can't seem to wrap my brain around it, as anytime I exert myself, I end up paying for it for days in the form of joint pain. So to exercise to the point of sweating and sustaining that just seems counter-intuitive to my joint pain.
I had an a-HA! moment a month ago when I realized what part of my problem (vis-a-vis procrastination) is: my mindset. I am a fixed mindset whereas I need to have a more growth oriented mindset. Problem is, I don't know how to change it. I'm fairly well FIXED and rooted in thinking the way I do, and being the pragmatist I am, I can talk myself out of doing things for fairly legitimate reasons.
For instance, I cannot allow myself to do something if there's even a remote question of whether I'll fail. It's not so much based out of a fear of failure, but out of having JUST THAT MUCH VALUE in my time, my precious commodity. I'd much rather spend my time doing things I love, or things I know I'll excel at rather than vanity tripping or doing what amounts to exercises (excuse the pun) in futility.
I know that my mindset is at the root of what is preventing me from living up to my potential in my career, my life, my health, my happiness. I can and HAVE intellectualized that I need to change, but I get overwhelmed and distracted, and don't have a clue how or where to start with the actual change. In keeping with my personality and this quirk of mine re: potential for pain or failure, it takes a very long time before I act on anything. I am like a terrier with a bone, chewing on it, thinking about it, burying that bone for a while, digging it back up and chewing on it some more, until something new and shiny comes along to distract me.
Dad's birthday was this weekend, and the grief sucker punched me again. I had signed up for a home repair and remodeling class run by the local college, only to find out that it's not hands on (which might as well = TOTALLY USELESS for me, a visual learner) and mostly lecture based.
On top of this misrepresentation (the brochure clearly does not state it's lecture only), the instructor was sub-standard, IMHO, for an instructor at a college. Picture, if you will, Mr. Fucking Magoo. Deaf as a stone. Blind as a bat. Patronizing to all the females in the class. Running thru the inventory of tools everyone needs in their tool box and demonstrating, "This is a hammer. This is a screw driver. This is a tape measure." etc etc.
Allegedly the instructor was a professional contractor (obviously MANY YEARS AGO), and he banks heavily on the fact that at some point in the past he was either ON a radio show or HOSTED a radio call in handyman show. So you would have a reasonable expectation that his tools would be in a tool box or at a minimum a tool belt. Not Mr. Magoo! Oh no. His dust bunnied, cob webby tools were thrown into a shopping basked pilfered from Pathmark.
When one of the two gentlemen of the class stopped him, as he was going into detail to the women about the need for a 25 foot tape measure (so we could hang our drapes, because all women are concerned with draperies, don'tchaknow), the gentleman wanted to know HOW to use the tape measure, or have the instructor tell us what the tick marks on the tape measure indicated, the instructor then suggested the GENTLEMAN show us (um, why then did the gentleman pay $110 + a $5 materials fee* if the GENTLEMAN was expected to teach the class?). Needless to say, it didn't take long after that for the gentleman in question to realize that this class is not what he (or any of us, for that matter) expected, and as respectfully and diplomatically as he could, let the instructor know this before he left the lecture hall.
*Also worth noting, the "materials" consisted of a folder with fasteners (which were not used, because half the hand outs/leaflets were not 2 hole punched) and the contents appeared not to be class materials, but hand outs anyone could get at hardware stores and Home Depot. Allegedly our $5 went towards the "collating" of everything. Um. Yeah.
So for the next 45 minutes, Mr. Magoo was distracted, and constantly trying to move the female students closer around him. We all were sitting in reasonable and expected spots in the lecture hall, but this guy was so controlling, perhaps in part because of his blindness and deafness. Now I must come off as someone who is anti-handicapped, when in reality, I spent $110 of my hard-earned bucks for a class led by an instructor who is incapable of COMMUNICATING. Get a miracle ear, buddy!
And as if all that were not bad enough...
The man stood there with his nose running like a dripping faucet. Literally. DRIP DRIP DRIP. No ubiquitous old man hanky or bandana. Hell, he didn't even use the cuff of his shirt or sweater to blot the drippage. No. He let it drip and let it land where it may... half the time on the front of his shirt... and the other half the time DIRECTLY IN HIS MOUTH. So as if he was not scatter brained and patronizing ENOUGH to distract me from what little viable information he might share, he was disgusting to look at. How am I expected to sit there and be expected to learn anything when the sight of his sinuses leaking directly into his mouth (and causing me to sit there and silently dry heave to myself at the sight of this)?
So with approximately 40 more minutes to go, I couldn't handle sitting there one more moment longer, I excused myself to go to the ladies room. I left my packet of information on my desk, to give the implication I was returning. But the moment I walked out of the lecture hall, I headed directly to my car and promptly called the registrar's office and roundly and thoroughly voiced my displeasure at the class being misrepresented. And of course, a refund was out of the question as I should have dropped the class two days beforehand. An offer was made that I could take another class that started up, yet there I was in my car, without a brochure. So Monday I emailed the director's office to expand on how this class wasn't what anyone expected it to be, only to find out due to the holiday she was out of the office until Weds. I've followed up with another email, but somehow, I know they just don't give a shit. Perhaps I'll check out Yelp and see if I can post a review about this... so I can spare some other poor unfortunate, well meaning souls from taking this class.
Anyway... my reality... how my grief sucker punched me...
I took this class because, sadly, I did not have enough time with my dad so DAD could show me simple things like swapping out electrical sockets or how to remove the elbow joint of my sink to clear a clog etc. I had hoped to reconnect with my dad in that handy way he was. And yet, thanks to Mr. Magoo, that opportunity was taken away. The weekend was just yet another reminder of the profound loss I still feel, at dad's passing. It would have been his 71st birthday (and would have been his grandmother's 121st birthday, too).
I talked at length with my therapist, and tried to get both themes discussed, the mindset a-Ha! and the grief, and how I feel like on some level my grief is sabotaging me, or perhaps subconsciously I'm using my grief as an excuse not to address what needs addressing. (among other themes discussed).
Anyway. Like I said... not much new to report, just apparently, a whole lotta noise.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
At Long Last: An Update
Yesterday found me in NYC doing a double header: Upper East Side to see my endocrinologist for my three month visit; and Upper West Side to see my surgeon for my 18 month follow up post-op visit. Both went well.
Stats from July's labs:
Fasting glucose: 81
Uric Acid: 5.7
HDL: 58
LDL: 93
Triglycerides: 92
Iron, total: 60
Ferritin: 10
T4, total: 8.6
Progesterone: 6.1
B12: 669
Folate, serum: >24.0
Folate, RBC, HCT: 715
Insulin, serum: <2 p="p">C-Reactive Protein: 0.1
Hemoglobin A1C: 5.5
Testosteron, Fr/TOT, LCMSMS: 38
Testosterone, Free: 3.2
All in all, not too shabby; though in hindsight, I am noticing my DHEA levels were not checked.
I wasn't feeling all too well, some weirdness in my gut, lower abdomen. A heaviness on my left side, which usually means constipation, despite obvious reasons for me to believe constipation was not afoot. *AHEM* And pain. The pain was intermittent in the earlier part of the day, but as the day wore on, the heaviness got more intense, and each time I moved my left leg when I walked, the pain became more pronounced.
I drank some hot egg drop soup, thinking that would help hydrate and usually anything hot helps wake up my bowels, so if it was constipation, I was hoping it would dislodge itself. I clearly felt like I was blocked, despite knowing there was activity that day.
I then set about the little odyssey of getting from the UES to the UWS. I decided not to take the 6 back up to 125th, and instead walked to Madison and hoped to hop a bus uptown. But which bus? I'm not super familiar. I know on Broadway the M101 or M104 will take me where I want to go, but I wanted to get from east side to west side and up town with a minimum of effort. Had I gone back to 125th, I would have taken the M100 or M101. But, I was on Madison, so I was going to improvise with the M3.
So the bus pulls up and since there was no route map to show me the stops, I clearly asked the driver, "Will this take me to 163rd and either Amsterdam or St. Nicholas?" And rather than yes or no, he got in a huff, which then made me DERP-DE-DERP and ask the question several times, thus making the driver even more hostile. A simple yes or no was all that was required, but because he wanted to be an asshole, he prolonged both of our agonies. So with an eye roll I got on, swiped my Metrocard, sat and seethed and even thought perhaps when I got off the bus I'd thank him for being so helpful, but thought the better of it, as he gave the next passengers at the next stop the same shitty attitude. So I sat and watched the street signs.
I got off at St. Nicholas and 163, and hoofed it to Ft. Washington. As I crossed Broadway, the pain in my lower abdomen was becoming more and more intense. When I pressed on my belly as I walked, I could feel a hardness, like a lump, and it hurt as I walked. I arrived at the surgeon's office with plenty of time (10-15 minutes), so I figured I'd try to give it the "old college try" and try to empty out even more before my weigh in. This was a disaster. I ended up being held hostage, but not like I've been held hostage in the past with an impaction. Just nothing moved. Searing pain. Flush with sweat and pain, I started to panic in the bathroom. I lost track of time. I was now late for my appointment.
I walked to the corridor to get my vitals taken by the technician, who noticed and commented on my limp and the fact I was in obvious pain. I go into the NP's office for our usual pre-game chat before the surgeon comes in. And once he came in, the weirdness set in. I started to feel manic and over stimulated from both, the increasing pain and the fact that I've now spent the entire day traversing both, east and west sides of NYC on foot and by mass transit. I was unfocused (which for me is VERY unusual, why waste my time or THEIRS is my usual attitude). At one point, while the surgeon was talking to me, I blurted out, "I'm in active pain right now, just thought I'd share!" I felt like a wild woman.
Surgeon told me the bad news, that at 18 months out, my weight loss, such as it's been, is effectively over, and now is the hard part, the maintaining. I informed him that ever since he put me on solids, I've been eating essentially whatever I want, weighing stuff out, eating frequently during the day, not depriving myself, and planning my "feeds" as I call them (not really meals or snacks, just indistinguishable "intakes") several times a day, as I do better with more feeds than less.
And then he told me the dreaded thing I don't want to hear, that he wants me to exercise more than this intermittent walking I do. I said to him, "But fat girls, we don't like to sweat." His reply, "I hate to inform you, but you're not a fat girl. You need to sweat regularly. And I don't care if you like it or not. You need to do this."
Since my surgery, pain has been a big issue: joint pain from arthritis. endometrial pain from the adenomyosis. and pain from when my ovarian cysts start to flare or rupture (which I think yesterday's pain was ultimately ovarian, and not bowel). So pain is part of my reluctance. The other part of my reluctance is well... I don't like to sweat, I don't find anything remotely fun, interesting, exciting etc about exercising for exercise sake. And if it's not fun or pleasurable, how the hell am I suppose to make it an essential part of my new life style if I find it so repellent?
Don't get me wrong. I can move. And I was in NYC on Friday and traversed the LES and LWS like a BOSS, and had a minimum of discomfort compared to how I normally felt in the past after spending the day in the city. And there I was, back in NYC on Tuesday, spent the whole day, and managed not to kill myself in the process, pain-wise.
Even swimming, which used to be a big thing I loved when I was heavier, now isn't as fun anymore, because I have to work so damned hard now just to stay afloat without all that extra buoyancy my fat used to provide.
Anyway, still in my frenzy after my appointment with the surgeon, I headed to the nearest pharmacy to get more colace (despite taking some in the a.m.) and some miralax, I then headed off to Dunkin Donuts for a hot cup of coffee, as I was hell bent on blasting whatever clog happened to be in my drain (as it were). So I sat and had my coffee. Mixed up the miralax in my Snapple in my bottle, sat a bit and crocheted, relaxed a little bit, and headed off in search of a subway station.
The day was beautiful. Sunny and warm not too hot, and no humidity. Great day. And I got weird-bordering on-lascivious looks as I walked thru Spanish Harlem, but I wore my Jackie O type sunglasses and kept my stoneface mask on and kept walking, hands in pockets, very relaxed, enjoying the walk. The neighborhood is foreign to me but not threatening.
I took the 1 down to 86 and walked to 89th. I stopped before I got to Murray's Sturgeon, and got a slice of pizza. I don't eat pizza all that often, and opted out of my traditional post-surgeon visit tuna sandwich at Murray's for a slice of pizza nearby. I ate it. The crust was great, the sauce and cheese, kind of "meh!" even with me doctoring up the slice with extra oregano, red pepper flake and garlic powder, it just didn't "do it" for me like I had hoped. Anyway, I headed to Murray's to stock up on smoked whitefish salad, gefilte, some herring, and a knish for the husband, then headed back to Grand Central, to sit and wait for the husband.
I went upstairs to the market, and got some things to throw together for dinner: some fresh tilapia for the grill; and some carrot salad (fabulous!) and some lebanese potato salad (WTF? horrid), and of course some cheese (for me). By the time I came back downstairs, the husband had arrived and we headed home.
All in all a good day, but I have some hard work ahead of me in the six month span until I see my surgeon again. I need to change my mindset from a fixed mindset (I won't attempt anything unless success is NLT 90% predictable) to a growth mindset.
Personally and professionally I'm very trapped. Either I find a new job and that facilitates other changes in my life, or I somehow or another get more active and THAT will facilitate other changes in my life. But some ACTIVE change needs to occur, as I'm stagnating.
Stats from July's labs:
Fasting glucose: 81
Uric Acid: 5.7
HDL: 58
LDL: 93
Triglycerides: 92
Iron, total: 60
Ferritin: 10
T4, total: 8.6
Progesterone: 6.1
B12: 669
Folate, serum: >24.0
Folate, RBC, HCT: 715
Insulin, serum: <2 p="p">C-Reactive Protein: 0.1
Hemoglobin A1C: 5.5
Testosteron, Fr/TOT, LCMSMS: 38
Testosterone, Free: 3.2
All in all, not too shabby; though in hindsight, I am noticing my DHEA levels were not checked.
I wasn't feeling all too well, some weirdness in my gut, lower abdomen. A heaviness on my left side, which usually means constipation, despite obvious reasons for me to believe constipation was not afoot. *AHEM* And pain. The pain was intermittent in the earlier part of the day, but as the day wore on, the heaviness got more intense, and each time I moved my left leg when I walked, the pain became more pronounced.
I drank some hot egg drop soup, thinking that would help hydrate and usually anything hot helps wake up my bowels, so if it was constipation, I was hoping it would dislodge itself. I clearly felt like I was blocked, despite knowing there was activity that day.
I then set about the little odyssey of getting from the UES to the UWS. I decided not to take the 6 back up to 125th, and instead walked to Madison and hoped to hop a bus uptown. But which bus? I'm not super familiar. I know on Broadway the M101 or M104 will take me where I want to go, but I wanted to get from east side to west side and up town with a minimum of effort. Had I gone back to 125th, I would have taken the M100 or M101. But, I was on Madison, so I was going to improvise with the M3.
So the bus pulls up and since there was no route map to show me the stops, I clearly asked the driver, "Will this take me to 163rd and either Amsterdam or St. Nicholas?" And rather than yes or no, he got in a huff, which then made me DERP-DE-DERP and ask the question several times, thus making the driver even more hostile. A simple yes or no was all that was required, but because he wanted to be an asshole, he prolonged both of our agonies. So with an eye roll I got on, swiped my Metrocard, sat and seethed and even thought perhaps when I got off the bus I'd thank him for being so helpful, but thought the better of it, as he gave the next passengers at the next stop the same shitty attitude. So I sat and watched the street signs.
I got off at St. Nicholas and 163, and hoofed it to Ft. Washington. As I crossed Broadway, the pain in my lower abdomen was becoming more and more intense. When I pressed on my belly as I walked, I could feel a hardness, like a lump, and it hurt as I walked. I arrived at the surgeon's office with plenty of time (10-15 minutes), so I figured I'd try to give it the "old college try" and try to empty out even more before my weigh in. This was a disaster. I ended up being held hostage, but not like I've been held hostage in the past with an impaction. Just nothing moved. Searing pain. Flush with sweat and pain, I started to panic in the bathroom. I lost track of time. I was now late for my appointment.
I walked to the corridor to get my vitals taken by the technician, who noticed and commented on my limp and the fact I was in obvious pain. I go into the NP's office for our usual pre-game chat before the surgeon comes in. And once he came in, the weirdness set in. I started to feel manic and over stimulated from both, the increasing pain and the fact that I've now spent the entire day traversing both, east and west sides of NYC on foot and by mass transit. I was unfocused (which for me is VERY unusual, why waste my time or THEIRS is my usual attitude). At one point, while the surgeon was talking to me, I blurted out, "I'm in active pain right now, just thought I'd share!" I felt like a wild woman.
Surgeon told me the bad news, that at 18 months out, my weight loss, such as it's been, is effectively over, and now is the hard part, the maintaining. I informed him that ever since he put me on solids, I've been eating essentially whatever I want, weighing stuff out, eating frequently during the day, not depriving myself, and planning my "feeds" as I call them (not really meals or snacks, just indistinguishable "intakes") several times a day, as I do better with more feeds than less.
And then he told me the dreaded thing I don't want to hear, that he wants me to exercise more than this intermittent walking I do. I said to him, "But fat girls, we don't like to sweat." His reply, "I hate to inform you, but you're not a fat girl. You need to sweat regularly. And I don't care if you like it or not. You need to do this."
Since my surgery, pain has been a big issue: joint pain from arthritis. endometrial pain from the adenomyosis. and pain from when my ovarian cysts start to flare or rupture (which I think yesterday's pain was ultimately ovarian, and not bowel). So pain is part of my reluctance. The other part of my reluctance is well... I don't like to sweat, I don't find anything remotely fun, interesting, exciting etc about exercising for exercise sake. And if it's not fun or pleasurable, how the hell am I suppose to make it an essential part of my new life style if I find it so repellent?
Don't get me wrong. I can move. And I was in NYC on Friday and traversed the LES and LWS like a BOSS, and had a minimum of discomfort compared to how I normally felt in the past after spending the day in the city. And there I was, back in NYC on Tuesday, spent the whole day, and managed not to kill myself in the process, pain-wise.
Even swimming, which used to be a big thing I loved when I was heavier, now isn't as fun anymore, because I have to work so damned hard now just to stay afloat without all that extra buoyancy my fat used to provide.
Anyway, still in my frenzy after my appointment with the surgeon, I headed to the nearest pharmacy to get more colace (despite taking some in the a.m.) and some miralax, I then headed off to Dunkin Donuts for a hot cup of coffee, as I was hell bent on blasting whatever clog happened to be in my drain (as it were). So I sat and had my coffee. Mixed up the miralax in my Snapple in my bottle, sat a bit and crocheted, relaxed a little bit, and headed off in search of a subway station.
The day was beautiful. Sunny and warm not too hot, and no humidity. Great day. And I got weird-bordering on-lascivious looks as I walked thru Spanish Harlem, but I wore my Jackie O type sunglasses and kept my stoneface mask on and kept walking, hands in pockets, very relaxed, enjoying the walk. The neighborhood is foreign to me but not threatening.
I took the 1 down to 86 and walked to 89th. I stopped before I got to Murray's Sturgeon, and got a slice of pizza. I don't eat pizza all that often, and opted out of my traditional post-surgeon visit tuna sandwich at Murray's for a slice of pizza nearby. I ate it. The crust was great, the sauce and cheese, kind of "meh!" even with me doctoring up the slice with extra oregano, red pepper flake and garlic powder, it just didn't "do it" for me like I had hoped. Anyway, I headed to Murray's to stock up on smoked whitefish salad, gefilte, some herring, and a knish for the husband, then headed back to Grand Central, to sit and wait for the husband.
I went upstairs to the market, and got some things to throw together for dinner: some fresh tilapia for the grill; and some carrot salad (fabulous!) and some lebanese potato salad (WTF? horrid), and of course some cheese (for me). By the time I came back downstairs, the husband had arrived and we headed home.
All in all a good day, but I have some hard work ahead of me in the six month span until I see my surgeon again. I need to change my mindset from a fixed mindset (I won't attempt anything unless success is NLT 90% predictable) to a growth mindset.
Personally and professionally I'm very trapped. Either I find a new job and that facilitates other changes in my life, or I somehow or another get more active and THAT will facilitate other changes in my life. But some ACTIVE change needs to occur, as I'm stagnating.
Friday, June 01, 2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Post-Vacation
I will not hop on the scale.
I will not hop on the scale.
I. WILL. NOT. HOP. ON. THE. SCALE.
Enjoyed the trip to Mystic. Plenty of good eatin' had. Vacations are always fraught with trepidation, financially, and calorie-wise. I'm just going to revel in a nice Memorial Day get-away, and worry about the scale next week. But I can't help but feel like it's an act of self-sabotage (going away).
I WILL NOT HOP ON THE SCALE.
I will not hop on the scale.
I. WILL. NOT. HOP. ON. THE. SCALE.
Enjoyed the trip to Mystic. Plenty of good eatin' had. Vacations are always fraught with trepidation, financially, and calorie-wise. I'm just going to revel in a nice Memorial Day get-away, and worry about the scale next week. But I can't help but feel like it's an act of self-sabotage (going away).
I WILL NOT HOP ON THE SCALE.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Update
Still maintaining the status quo on the weight loss. I'm weighing in regularly between 192-194, tho that one freakish weigh in a few months back at 190, pegged my official weight loss at 90#. I'd like to get down to 175, but I'm quite happy where I'm at currently, too.
So last Friday I managed to follow up w/my neurologist (the same dude I saw roughly 4-5 years back during the great Topamax experiment my endocrinologist tried. The Topamax was supposed to help with the migraines and also offer up some super magical side effects of losing weight. Well, that experiment didn't end well. Made me more hostile and paranoid, and holy hannah it messed with my sleep-wake schedule even more than my usual baseline of insomnia, so I ditched it way back then.
I've been prescribed Frova, which I'm supposed to take a day or two prior to onset of menses and throughout the bleed time. Allegedly this is supposed to thwart my monthly migraine. Who knows. All I know is that it's a sumatriptan based Rx, and I didn't fare too well on imitrex when I was on it briefly in the early 1990s (I felt all achey and odd, like you do right before the full on brunt of a common cold--but no migraine). Like anything else, I suppose YMMV. I'll try anything at this point.
And like whoah? $45 and that's WITH insurance. $400+ without. I think $45 is a bit exorbitant to PREVENT a migraine; however, $45 is still less than the ER copay, so it all balances out. But whoah. Sticker shock. ETA: Note to self: There's an online mfr program/coupon for Frova: http://www.frova.com/pdf/FROVA_Patient_CoPay_Card.pdf
I don't follow up with the neuro again until July, so that'll be two menstrual cycles from now, and a good indication of whether or not the Rx works.
Now a blood chemistry update...
Everything seems to be within normal parameters, with a few exceptions.
Exception #1: My iron levels are still low (or at least they were as of 4/2/12 when the blood was drawn. I've been on Feosol iron since roughly the 3-4th week of April, and have noticed some change in how I feel, so I am hopeful this is remedying things; however, as of 4/2/12:
Iron, total: 33 (range: 40-175 mcg/dL)
Transferrin Saturation: 8 (range: 15-50%)
Ferritin: 8 (range: 10-232 ng/mL)
MCV: 76.9 (range: 80.0-100.0 fL)
MCH: 25.7 (range 27.0-33.0 pg)
Exception #2: Weirdness. My B12 is off the chart. Perhaps it's related to the fact I've been taking a prenatal chewable in the a.m., with an additional spritz of B12 sublingual, plus a spare biotin and a spare FOLIC ACID supplement. Not sure whut's-whut, but:
Vitamin B12, serum 1316 (range 200-1100 pg/mL)
Exception #3: Weirdness. My DHEA is finally taking a nosedive. It's been on the high side since my PCOS diagnosis in 1998. High = onwards and upwards of 1200-1400, yet as of 4/2/12:
DHEA Sulfate 448 (range 25/220 mcg/dL) This is without a doubt the lowest the DHEA has been for me for 14 years. Not sure if it's related to the wonky B12 elevation, or if it's the result of a 90# weight loss, or what, but thereyago. WEIRD.
Exception #4: Weirdness. My 3A Androstanediol-G is low. Not even sure WTF this is (same thing goes for the MCV and MCH above), so needless to say I have some homework to do before Monday's appointment.
3A Androstanediol-G 30 (range: 60-300 ng/dL)
And lastly, one of the last things I was interested in, ARSENIC, given I was eating a lot of chia seeds about two months back:
Arsenic, Blood 8 (range: <23 mcg/L)
Not sure if this is an accurate read or if it's skewed due to the volume of cilantro I eat (not all the time, but do it in waves, like this week I've been on a Green Goddess dressing phase... and eat a lot of it).
So last Friday I managed to follow up w/my neurologist (the same dude I saw roughly 4-5 years back during the great Topamax experiment my endocrinologist tried. The Topamax was supposed to help with the migraines and also offer up some super magical side effects of losing weight. Well, that experiment didn't end well. Made me more hostile and paranoid, and holy hannah it messed with my sleep-wake schedule even more than my usual baseline of insomnia, so I ditched it way back then.
I've been prescribed Frova, which I'm supposed to take a day or two prior to onset of menses and throughout the bleed time. Allegedly this is supposed to thwart my monthly migraine. Who knows. All I know is that it's a sumatriptan based Rx, and I didn't fare too well on imitrex when I was on it briefly in the early 1990s (I felt all achey and odd, like you do right before the full on brunt of a common cold--but no migraine). Like anything else, I suppose YMMV. I'll try anything at this point.
And like whoah? $45 and that's WITH insurance. $400+ without. I think $45 is a bit exorbitant to PREVENT a migraine; however, $45 is still less than the ER copay, so it all balances out. But whoah. Sticker shock. ETA: Note to self: There's an online mfr program/coupon for Frova: http://www.frova.com/pdf/FROVA_Patient_CoPay_Card.pdf
I don't follow up with the neuro again until July, so that'll be two menstrual cycles from now, and a good indication of whether or not the Rx works.
Now a blood chemistry update...
Everything seems to be within normal parameters, with a few exceptions.
Exception #1: My iron levels are still low (or at least they were as of 4/2/12 when the blood was drawn. I've been on Feosol iron since roughly the 3-4th week of April, and have noticed some change in how I feel, so I am hopeful this is remedying things; however, as of 4/2/12:
Iron, total: 33 (range: 40-175 mcg/dL)
Transferrin Saturation: 8 (range: 15-50%)
Ferritin: 8 (range: 10-232 ng/mL)
MCV: 76.9 (range: 80.0-100.0 fL)
MCH: 25.7 (range 27.0-33.0 pg)
Exception #2: Weirdness. My B12 is off the chart. Perhaps it's related to the fact I've been taking a prenatal chewable in the a.m., with an additional spritz of B12 sublingual, plus a spare biotin and a spare FOLIC ACID supplement. Not sure whut's-whut, but:
Vitamin B12, serum 1316 (range 200-1100 pg/mL)
Exception #3: Weirdness. My DHEA is finally taking a nosedive. It's been on the high side since my PCOS diagnosis in 1998. High = onwards and upwards of 1200-1400, yet as of 4/2/12:
DHEA Sulfate 448 (range 25/220 mcg/dL) This is without a doubt the lowest the DHEA has been for me for 14 years. Not sure if it's related to the wonky B12 elevation, or if it's the result of a 90# weight loss, or what, but thereyago. WEIRD.
Exception #4: Weirdness. My 3A Androstanediol-G is low. Not even sure WTF this is (same thing goes for the MCV and MCH above), so needless to say I have some homework to do before Monday's appointment.
3A Androstanediol-G 30 (range: 60-300 ng/dL)
And lastly, one of the last things I was interested in, ARSENIC, given I was eating a lot of chia seeds about two months back:
Arsenic, Blood 8 (range: <23 mcg/L)
Not sure if this is an accurate read or if it's skewed due to the volume of cilantro I eat (not all the time, but do it in waves, like this week I've been on a Green Goddess dressing phase... and eat a lot of it).
Friday, April 27, 2012
On Relating to Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer
Ever see that SNL skit w/Phil Hartman as the Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer? Well, at the conclusion of this week's knit night, one of my friends noted I was wearing jeans, and how she doesn't think she's ever seen me in jeans. I commented how they are my milestone jeans. They are a size 14 (and really a bit loose on me). Size 14 being the smallest size The Avenue carries. I quipped about how should I go down one more size, I'll have to buy my clothes from a conventional size store. "Oh, is The Limited still in business?" Truly, I lost interest in the store when Bush Senior was president, when my weight started LEAPING, NOT CREEPING, but LEAPING from one size to the next. "I don't know what it's like to buy clothing in a store that doesn't cater to large sized folks. It's been so long. I think I'll feel like that Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer... your world is all so weird and unfamiliar to me."
Another interesting milestone: the size "large" belt which I bought a while ago (a few months back) now finally fits. I can secure it on the first hole without it feeling like a tourniquet. Yay me.
Now if only I could FEEL better.
I am having motivational issues just to do anything, even simple, mundane shit like showering daily and getting dressed and out of the house, even for things which I know will make me feel better, and yet... the over-riding desire to nap sometimes wins out even the best argument that my conscious self can make to this other side of my personality, which I'll refer to as the hermit. The hermit just wants to do just that, be a hermit, avoid contact with other people.
I had an actual dialogue today, both sides or both personalities, were talking to one another today. Not sure if this is a mental break, or if it's just an exercise I needed to do to further motivate myself to get my rear in gear and out of the house (which I eventually DID), but the dialogue went like this:
Personality 1: You know you need that deep tissue massage. You'll feel better. Tomorrow you have a long drive and won't have a chance to do this, and it'll be another week before you can do this, another week before you feel better.
Personality 2: I don't want to feel better. I don't want to feel anything at all. I just want to die.
And of course, this was capped off with me getting weepy. Hard to feel like doing anything when you feel dizzy and feel like shit, yanno? Hard to break out of that cycle of you're in pain, and it depresses you, and then the depression makes you feel even MORE physically shitty, etc etc, to the point where you're shaky and miserable, and just want to curl up into a ball and sob.
But I got dressed and out of the house. Did something proactively to make myself feel better. Went for that massage. I felt like the masseuse was helping me on a molecular level. I know for a fact that if I were to go to my old Reiki practitioner, I'd be in tears by the end of the session. Wish I had her name and #, but lost those details several years back, and the only person who could have offered help, the woman who ran the local yoga clinic where I met the aforementioned reiki master refused to pass the information along to me (apparently they had some kind of falling out). Karma's a bitch, and the economy in the shitter the way it's been for nearly ten years, well, that yoga studio went belly up about 2-3 years back. You get what you give, I suppose.
Tomorrow I make a trip to Jersey for a class to learn the finer points of a technique I know "some" details of, and even know some advanced details of, but little simple basics I could benefit from an actual class. I've already paid for this class, so I'm hoping that's motivation enough for me to not bail out and flake out and be out $65 for the cost of the class. On an upnote, the class is held at a shop in the same town as one of my fave Thai restaurants, so I can't wait. And a friend I originally made plans with to have lunch after the class is under the weather, so she already bailed out on the lunch; so I might just sit and enjoy lunch in solitude, and pick up take out for the husband and might possibly make it home by 4 or 5 the earliest and salvage a bit of the day with him, as he should be up from his afternoon nap by then.
Been taking Feosol iron for about a week... not quite. But "about." Not sure if it's making a difference yet. Folks reading this blog can have hope enough for me, because I have none. At this point, I'm just on autopilot, taking meds, taking vitamins, doing what the doctors say I need to do, and abandoning expectation that any of it will make a difference. Because I am compliant as a post-opper, but even that's not enough, I suppose.
Appointment has been set for me to follow up with a neurologist re: the migraine. That's next Friday. Then my usual 3 month appt w/the endocrinologist is little more than a week later or so.
I cannot wait for my 44th year to start (in August), as my 43rd year has been one fraught with bullshitty health stuff. Gah.
Time to take my calcium, have some coffee, and call it a night.
Another interesting milestone: the size "large" belt which I bought a while ago (a few months back) now finally fits. I can secure it on the first hole without it feeling like a tourniquet. Yay me.
Now if only I could FEEL better.
I am having motivational issues just to do anything, even simple, mundane shit like showering daily and getting dressed and out of the house, even for things which I know will make me feel better, and yet... the over-riding desire to nap sometimes wins out even the best argument that my conscious self can make to this other side of my personality, which I'll refer to as the hermit. The hermit just wants to do just that, be a hermit, avoid contact with other people.
I had an actual dialogue today, both sides or both personalities, were talking to one another today. Not sure if this is a mental break, or if it's just an exercise I needed to do to further motivate myself to get my rear in gear and out of the house (which I eventually DID), but the dialogue went like this:
Personality 1: You know you need that deep tissue massage. You'll feel better. Tomorrow you have a long drive and won't have a chance to do this, and it'll be another week before you can do this, another week before you feel better.
Personality 2: I don't want to feel better. I don't want to feel anything at all. I just want to die.
And of course, this was capped off with me getting weepy. Hard to feel like doing anything when you feel dizzy and feel like shit, yanno? Hard to break out of that cycle of you're in pain, and it depresses you, and then the depression makes you feel even MORE physically shitty, etc etc, to the point where you're shaky and miserable, and just want to curl up into a ball and sob.
But I got dressed and out of the house. Did something proactively to make myself feel better. Went for that massage. I felt like the masseuse was helping me on a molecular level. I know for a fact that if I were to go to my old Reiki practitioner, I'd be in tears by the end of the session. Wish I had her name and #, but lost those details several years back, and the only person who could have offered help, the woman who ran the local yoga clinic where I met the aforementioned reiki master refused to pass the information along to me (apparently they had some kind of falling out). Karma's a bitch, and the economy in the shitter the way it's been for nearly ten years, well, that yoga studio went belly up about 2-3 years back. You get what you give, I suppose.
Tomorrow I make a trip to Jersey for a class to learn the finer points of a technique I know "some" details of, and even know some advanced details of, but little simple basics I could benefit from an actual class. I've already paid for this class, so I'm hoping that's motivation enough for me to not bail out and flake out and be out $65 for the cost of the class. On an upnote, the class is held at a shop in the same town as one of my fave Thai restaurants, so I can't wait. And a friend I originally made plans with to have lunch after the class is under the weather, so she already bailed out on the lunch; so I might just sit and enjoy lunch in solitude, and pick up take out for the husband and might possibly make it home by 4 or 5 the earliest and salvage a bit of the day with him, as he should be up from his afternoon nap by then.
Been taking Feosol iron for about a week... not quite. But "about." Not sure if it's making a difference yet. Folks reading this blog can have hope enough for me, because I have none. At this point, I'm just on autopilot, taking meds, taking vitamins, doing what the doctors say I need to do, and abandoning expectation that any of it will make a difference. Because I am compliant as a post-opper, but even that's not enough, I suppose.
Appointment has been set for me to follow up with a neurologist re: the migraine. That's next Friday. Then my usual 3 month appt w/the endocrinologist is little more than a week later or so.
I cannot wait for my 44th year to start (in August), as my 43rd year has been one fraught with bullshitty health stuff. Gah.
Time to take my calcium, have some coffee, and call it a night.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Lack of Progress
Man makes plans and God says Hah, allegedly.
My next 'ologist I was going to consult was a hematologist given my anemia, adenomyosis and FVLM; however, Saturday's trip to the ER for a migraine might trump that for a little bit. I might have to follow up with a neurologist regarding the horrendous headache. I have no doubt of the genesis of the headache. Hormonal and associated with the adenomyosis.
My 43rd year has been horrendous for my health. I feel like such a whiner. Not sure if this is part of the aging process, or perimenopause (tho I have it on pretty good authority it's not this, not yet at least), or hypochondria. Surely, I can't have THIS many things wrong with me all at once.
Just as soon as it seems that I've adjusted or accepted the new status quo, something else is lumped onto the pile, kinda like the story of Job, but only with medically related annoyances etc to overcome.
On top of all this, my weight loss has continued its stalemate. I keep hoping to find the time or energy to chase down a Feldenkrais practitioner or do something proactive to help with my joint pain, to help get me more active again, and jump start my weight loss for what I hope to be the last 15-20 lbs.
Very difficult to remain upbeat or motivated when other things are truly sapping my energy and focus.
Still doing what I'm supposed to be doing: protein, protein, protein; fluids; vitamins; packing my feed bag; nothing more than roughly 8 oz for me now; eating frequently; and trying to go easy on myself.
Given I'm in between therapists at the moment, and given that my husband is really "all I've got" for actual, tangible, in-person support system, I don't want to overburden him with TMI of what I'm going thru. So, to add insult to injury, I really feel isolated and worn out.
Zapped a note to the bariatric team to find out about the Fiorinal for my migraines (which aren't too frequent, but shit, this one was a doozy).
My next 'ologist I was going to consult was a hematologist given my anemia, adenomyosis and FVLM; however, Saturday's trip to the ER for a migraine might trump that for a little bit. I might have to follow up with a neurologist regarding the horrendous headache. I have no doubt of the genesis of the headache. Hormonal and associated with the adenomyosis.
My 43rd year has been horrendous for my health. I feel like such a whiner. Not sure if this is part of the aging process, or perimenopause (tho I have it on pretty good authority it's not this, not yet at least), or hypochondria. Surely, I can't have THIS many things wrong with me all at once.
Just as soon as it seems that I've adjusted or accepted the new status quo, something else is lumped onto the pile, kinda like the story of Job, but only with medically related annoyances etc to overcome.
On top of all this, my weight loss has continued its stalemate. I keep hoping to find the time or energy to chase down a Feldenkrais practitioner or do something proactive to help with my joint pain, to help get me more active again, and jump start my weight loss for what I hope to be the last 15-20 lbs.
Very difficult to remain upbeat or motivated when other things are truly sapping my energy and focus.
Still doing what I'm supposed to be doing: protein, protein, protein; fluids; vitamins; packing my feed bag; nothing more than roughly 8 oz for me now; eating frequently; and trying to go easy on myself.
Given I'm in between therapists at the moment, and given that my husband is really "all I've got" for actual, tangible, in-person support system, I don't want to overburden him with TMI of what I'm going thru. So, to add insult to injury, I really feel isolated and worn out.
Zapped a note to the bariatric team to find out about the Fiorinal for my migraines (which aren't too frequent, but shit, this one was a doozy).
Sunday, April 22, 2012
ER: The morning after
Ever hear of Murphy's Law? Well, there's "Maven's Law" which is kinda like Murphy's Law, but with one tweak at the end:
If anything bad/wrong can happen, it will. At the worst possible time.
So yeah. Yesterday I woke up feeling worse for wear. As I posted on Friday it was a two vicodin day, courtesy of my epic menstrual pain due to the (there I go again!) adenomyosis.
And by worse for wear, I mean I woke up with a migraine that just would not quit. First sign of distress is the obvious: I woke up at 7:30 a.m. on a SATURDAY. This is unheard of. Woke up feeling illish. Went to the kitchen to take my blood pressure pill, and get the jump on my vitamins, which I usually start my day with my gummy prenatals, gummy fiber chew, and gummy vitamin c. Those are the first things to hit my stomach, then the blood pressure pill, washed down with a mouthful of coffee.
And then it happened. EPIC NAUSEA. I thought, "BRILLIANT!" usually, after vomiting commences, my migraines usually start to subside. Not in this case. I was the Ever Ready Bunny of Puke. Only, there's nothing to puke up. I last ate at 9:30 the night before, and other than the vitamins, nothing else came up. Being without a gall bladder also means, no bile comes up, which is a great thing, puke wise, because you don't get any of that acrid nasty stuff to deal with, but the downside is, you have nothing of substance to heave up.
And heave, I did. All day. I laid down thinking I'd try to sleep off the bulk of the unpleasantness, tossing and turning in the bed, uncomfortable. Every time I'd get up to urinate, the disturbance to my head and neck was enough to elicit more waves of heaving-loveliness.
Mind you, I'm 16 months out from my gastric bypass. I still worry about possible damage to the pouch when dealing with violent heaving like this. I also wonder and worry if the epic heaving will be enough to damage the repair to the hiatal hernia, too.
Head was pounding as if the Mario Brothers were in there, pounding away with sledge hammers. Unrelentingly.
And so this went until about 3 p.m., when I just couldn't stand life one more moment, I woke the husband from his nap and said, "It's time. I need to go to the hospital."
By the time he got washed and dressed, we arrived at the hospital (which is only a scant 3 minutes from our house), by 4 p.m., I went into a quasi-nap trying to zone out the ER lobby din. They bring me inside and for the next four hours or so, I'm in the ER, hooked up to an IV for fluids, Dilaudid and something else for pain, something for nausea, Zofran under the tongue. Mercifully I have ear plugs (but no eye patch) to blot out what I can of what's going on around me. Puke bag at the ready by my side.
I'm now thinking I should just give up the notion of even trying to conceive. I'm too old and frail and just not up to an endeavor such as that. Physically, emotionally, etc. I cannot imagine going thru this or other health set backs, with just my husband, and then have to deal with what to do with a small child or infant during something like this, when we have ZERO support system nearby. It's not fair to me, the husband or the child.
I'm seriously contemplating going in for the ablation. Biting the bullet. Get the ablation. Maybe get my tubes tied. And call it a day. I'm certain the migraine is related to the adenomyosis, as yesterday was the second full on day of my menses.
I've reached the point... the "Come to Jesus" moment of accepting the fact that having a child of my own is not in my cards. That perhaps I wasted my prime baby making years, ten of them, with someone who threw me away 14 years ago. And there he is, with two kids, one of them named the name we picked for our hypothetical son. And here I am, battling with this nonsense. Doesn't really seem all that fair.
But it's come down to it's either me/my health/my sanity or go on a reproductive wild goose chase with no viable end in sight.
All I know is that while I was in the ER, I was having a conversation with the Universal Power that guides us, whatever that power is... not God... but something is driving the universe, yanno? And the conversation went like this, "Look, if you're going to take me. Take me now. Just quit pussyfooting around, because death itself? It can't possibly be worse than this shit. I'm ready to go. I'm showered up. Take me, damnit."
If anything bad/wrong can happen, it will. At the worst possible time.
So yeah. Yesterday I woke up feeling worse for wear. As I posted on Friday it was a two vicodin day, courtesy of my epic menstrual pain due to the (there I go again!) adenomyosis.
And by worse for wear, I mean I woke up with a migraine that just would not quit. First sign of distress is the obvious: I woke up at 7:30 a.m. on a SATURDAY. This is unheard of. Woke up feeling illish. Went to the kitchen to take my blood pressure pill, and get the jump on my vitamins, which I usually start my day with my gummy prenatals, gummy fiber chew, and gummy vitamin c. Those are the first things to hit my stomach, then the blood pressure pill, washed down with a mouthful of coffee.
And then it happened. EPIC NAUSEA. I thought, "BRILLIANT!" usually, after vomiting commences, my migraines usually start to subside. Not in this case. I was the Ever Ready Bunny of Puke. Only, there's nothing to puke up. I last ate at 9:30 the night before, and other than the vitamins, nothing else came up. Being without a gall bladder also means, no bile comes up, which is a great thing, puke wise, because you don't get any of that acrid nasty stuff to deal with, but the downside is, you have nothing of substance to heave up.
And heave, I did. All day. I laid down thinking I'd try to sleep off the bulk of the unpleasantness, tossing and turning in the bed, uncomfortable. Every time I'd get up to urinate, the disturbance to my head and neck was enough to elicit more waves of heaving-loveliness.
Mind you, I'm 16 months out from my gastric bypass. I still worry about possible damage to the pouch when dealing with violent heaving like this. I also wonder and worry if the epic heaving will be enough to damage the repair to the hiatal hernia, too.
Head was pounding as if the Mario Brothers were in there, pounding away with sledge hammers. Unrelentingly.
And so this went until about 3 p.m., when I just couldn't stand life one more moment, I woke the husband from his nap and said, "It's time. I need to go to the hospital."
By the time he got washed and dressed, we arrived at the hospital (which is only a scant 3 minutes from our house), by 4 p.m., I went into a quasi-nap trying to zone out the ER lobby din. They bring me inside and for the next four hours or so, I'm in the ER, hooked up to an IV for fluids, Dilaudid and something else for pain, something for nausea, Zofran under the tongue. Mercifully I have ear plugs (but no eye patch) to blot out what I can of what's going on around me. Puke bag at the ready by my side.
I'm now thinking I should just give up the notion of even trying to conceive. I'm too old and frail and just not up to an endeavor such as that. Physically, emotionally, etc. I cannot imagine going thru this or other health set backs, with just my husband, and then have to deal with what to do with a small child or infant during something like this, when we have ZERO support system nearby. It's not fair to me, the husband or the child.
I'm seriously contemplating going in for the ablation. Biting the bullet. Get the ablation. Maybe get my tubes tied. And call it a day. I'm certain the migraine is related to the adenomyosis, as yesterday was the second full on day of my menses.
I've reached the point... the "Come to Jesus" moment of accepting the fact that having a child of my own is not in my cards. That perhaps I wasted my prime baby making years, ten of them, with someone who threw me away 14 years ago. And there he is, with two kids, one of them named the name we picked for our hypothetical son. And here I am, battling with this nonsense. Doesn't really seem all that fair.
But it's come down to it's either me/my health/my sanity or go on a reproductive wild goose chase with no viable end in sight.
All I know is that while I was in the ER, I was having a conversation with the Universal Power that guides us, whatever that power is... not God... but something is driving the universe, yanno? And the conversation went like this, "Look, if you're going to take me. Take me now. Just quit pussyfooting around, because death itself? It can't possibly be worse than this shit. I'm ready to go. I'm showered up. Take me, damnit."
Friday, April 20, 2012
Onset
Full on onset day = 2 Vicodin.
Started the Feosol iron supplement today. I really need to hook up with a hematologist to find out if I need to double up at this time of the month.
I'm now trying to remember if I packed Centrums or the prenatal vitamins when I went to India. Wondering if that's when and how I got derailed with the iron.
Still feel like crap. Might as well head to bed while the vicodin is still doing its thing.
Started the Feosol iron supplement today. I really need to hook up with a hematologist to find out if I need to double up at this time of the month.
I'm now trying to remember if I packed Centrums or the prenatal vitamins when I went to India. Wondering if that's when and how I got derailed with the iron.
Still feel like crap. Might as well head to bed while the vicodin is still doing its thing.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
How My Mind Works
When searching for iron supplements, I come across a brand name Bifera. Am I the only one whose first thought is Biafra?
In the Meantime...
I was out of the office sick yesterday. Just couldn't muster up enough energy to shower and get dressed and out the door (and also totally lacking FOCUS).
While I was out, my ReproEndoGuy emailed me with a recommendation about iron. Suggested I take Feosol 325 mg daily.
Today I'm going to scope out local hematologists, given my unique circumstances (WLS induced iron deficient anemia, adenomyosis, and the WILD CARD! Factor Five Leiden Mutation).
While I was out, my ReproEndoGuy emailed me with a recommendation about iron. Suggested I take Feosol 325 mg daily.
Today I'm going to scope out local hematologists, given my unique circumstances (WLS induced iron deficient anemia, adenomyosis, and the WILD CARD! Factor Five Leiden Mutation).
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Shoppin' Around
I think the time has come for me to find a new therapist, or at a minimum, officially break with this therapist and find a professional organizer to help with, well, ORGANIZING. Goodness, I was going thru a few stacks of books and noticed I've got TWO copies of "The Stranger" by Albert Camus. As if not being able to wrap my brain around his philosophy or point of view wasn't bad enough, I've now got TWO copies of that very books by which to confound me.
Two copies of "The Stranger," countless hair brushes, clips, packets of wet wipes, chewing gums, you name it... who needs MULTITUDES of things? Well apparently I MUST. Nothing more frustrating, IMHO, than to KNOW you have one or SIX of something, and can't seem to put your finger on ONE of those items, and my response usually is, "Oh, fuck this. I'll buy another." Then suddenly I find every single one of those items, and then start to feel like a hoarder.
Which, I suppose, I might be on some level about some things.
Granted, I don't watch t.v. shows such as Hoarders or The Biggest Loser or anything for that matter on Bravo or TLC, because I really thing THAT particular type of t.v. programming trivializes and exploits the plights and life narratives of those folks. But I would be dishonest if I didn't own up to the fact that on the rare occasions when I'm channel surfing (normally watch a lot of ON DEMAND or Netflix to avoid this kind of situation), if I happen upon Hoarders, I'll watch a segment or two, just for perspective. It might come off as judgement, but honestly, I know I've got that tendency myself, as I'm far too sentimental of a person, and have issues with attachments. But I figure I can put off contacting a professional for another day as long as I can keep closing my closet doors, my fridge door closes with ease, and I haven't found any dead animals amongst my belongings.
Taking a look thru my blog, I realize the last session I had with my therapist was 3/14, well over a month ago. Perhaps I'm expecting too much out of my therapist. But I do think it speaks volumes about how little he's invested in me as a client/patient, if a month can go by and THAT hasn't warranted a phone call or email inquiring if everything is okay and if/when can we are going to schedule an other session.
Mind you, I've been seeing him since roughly 2009. I started seeing him one year after dad passed, and right before I set things in motion for my gastric bypass. We talked about all manner of things, life, health, my work, my grief, etc. But really I don't know how much benefit I got out of it. Half the time, I couldn't tell if I was boring him, or if it was late in the afternoon and he'd be on the brink of nodding off, or if he was lost in thought, or what. And I did not get (nor did I demand) all that much in the way of feedback. So it just seemed like a whole lot of talking just purely for the sake of talking, without an end point or a goal, and certainly no behavioral modifications (not that it was his focus or specialty mind you, which it was not).
But still... here I am, three years later, and not really a whole lot to show for things, other than, well, I got myself thru my surgery.
But I'm still affected deeply by my grief over the passing and loss of my dad, still affected by being in a dead end job with no chance of any advancement or change of scenery therein, and still dealing with my clutter issues.
Husband suspects therapist has been billing for sessions every week, when I don't see him every week. So I'll be keeping an eye open for the EOBs for a while to see if he puts in for anything beyond March 14th.
The whole thing is a bit fishy.
Two copies of "The Stranger," countless hair brushes, clips, packets of wet wipes, chewing gums, you name it... who needs MULTITUDES of things? Well apparently I MUST. Nothing more frustrating, IMHO, than to KNOW you have one or SIX of something, and can't seem to put your finger on ONE of those items, and my response usually is, "Oh, fuck this. I'll buy another." Then suddenly I find every single one of those items, and then start to feel like a hoarder.
Which, I suppose, I might be on some level about some things.
Granted, I don't watch t.v. shows such as Hoarders or The Biggest Loser or anything for that matter on Bravo or TLC, because I really thing THAT particular type of t.v. programming trivializes and exploits the plights and life narratives of those folks. But I would be dishonest if I didn't own up to the fact that on the rare occasions when I'm channel surfing (normally watch a lot of ON DEMAND or Netflix to avoid this kind of situation), if I happen upon Hoarders, I'll watch a segment or two, just for perspective. It might come off as judgement, but honestly, I know I've got that tendency myself, as I'm far too sentimental of a person, and have issues with attachments. But I figure I can put off contacting a professional for another day as long as I can keep closing my closet doors, my fridge door closes with ease, and I haven't found any dead animals amongst my belongings.
Taking a look thru my blog, I realize the last session I had with my therapist was 3/14, well over a month ago. Perhaps I'm expecting too much out of my therapist. But I do think it speaks volumes about how little he's invested in me as a client/patient, if a month can go by and THAT hasn't warranted a phone call or email inquiring if everything is okay and if/when can we are going to schedule an other session.
Mind you, I've been seeing him since roughly 2009. I started seeing him one year after dad passed, and right before I set things in motion for my gastric bypass. We talked about all manner of things, life, health, my work, my grief, etc. But really I don't know how much benefit I got out of it. Half the time, I couldn't tell if I was boring him, or if it was late in the afternoon and he'd be on the brink of nodding off, or if he was lost in thought, or what. And I did not get (nor did I demand) all that much in the way of feedback. So it just seemed like a whole lot of talking just purely for the sake of talking, without an end point or a goal, and certainly no behavioral modifications (not that it was his focus or specialty mind you, which it was not).
But still... here I am, three years later, and not really a whole lot to show for things, other than, well, I got myself thru my surgery.
But I'm still affected deeply by my grief over the passing and loss of my dad, still affected by being in a dead end job with no chance of any advancement or change of scenery therein, and still dealing with my clutter issues.
Husband suspects therapist has been billing for sessions every week, when I don't see him every week. So I'll be keeping an eye open for the EOBs for a while to see if he puts in for anything beyond March 14th.
The whole thing is a bit fishy.
On Feeling Drained...
Got a call from the ReproEndo guy two days ago about my ferritin levels. Much talk was done about my anemia.
For starters, the RnY puts me in a risk factor for anemia, and the adenomyosis (there I go again, harping about this!) drains my body of iron. So it's a perfect storm, of sorts, setting me up for FerritinFAIL! :(
And mind you, this is with me being DILIGENT about taking ALL my supplements (and then some) as a post-opper. I think I've missed maybe 3 iron doses in the last 16 months. Not too shabby.
I've been on a quest of sorts to find the perfect iron formulation for me. I was taking a Centrum with iron and then switched off to a prenatal (Vitafusion, they're effing delicious) because it's got a lot of folate and biotin, and took a separate iron supplement.
Up until a week ago, I was taking Bariatric Advantage brand "iron supplement." I put that in quotes because it doesn't list what type of iron it is. (Doing the chewy chews, raspberry chocolate truffle--not bad tasting, btw.) So I've switched off to some off-brand carbonyl iron in tablet form. Two tablets put me at over 200% of the RDA for iron. Going to start taking them 2x a day (1 tablet 2x a day; NOT 2 tablets 2x a day, just to clarify).
Anyway, the anemia is just one more thing to deal with. Granted it's a fairly BIG NEGATIVE to deal with on top of everything else I'm dealing with, both as a post opper, as well as all the other stuff related to my PCOS and other health issues.
The anemia, I am certain is to blame for my fatigue, my stamina problems, some of my aches and pains or stiffness, and no doubt my dizziness, which I've been complaining about for months, and yet, no one seems all too concerned about it.
My depth perception has been a bit "off" since roughly January, but I don't know if that's related to the anemia or the fact I am now officially an old fart and had to break down and get bi-focals (actually "progressives").
So, on top of all this, and on top of the personal shitstorm I weathered in March at the hands of Crazy McLoonypants, my natural tendency at this point is to just withdraw, which then makes me miserable on another level (cabin fever).
All life is suffering. This would fit the bill. And in the grand scheme of things, I'll take this suffering over alternative sufferings. I'm fairly miserable at the moment.
Nearly every day I cry. Yesterday it was in my car, during downtime waiting to pick up the husband at the train. I felt so miserable, and the only person who could console me, my dad, isn't here anymore to do that. Today it was in my kitchen, dizzy spell full in force. Husband came in the room for me to fling my arms around and just sob. He doesn't hug or console. But he's there. He doesn't have a clue what to do to make things better, and I know from a guy's perspective, that is the supreme head fuck, because guys don't want to listen to complaining or crying, they're FIXERS. They want to fix what's broke. And we're both at a loss at this point regarding HOW to fix this thing.
I feel like utter crap. So much so, when I woke up this morning, I was truly surprised. Yes. Surprised. Because when I went to bed last night, I felt so horrid, I was 50% certain I'd die in my sleep, and 50% HOPING I'd die in my sleep.
No one likes a whiner. But there ya go. At a minimum, it's real life. It's authentic. And yet sadly, I cannot find something ironic or wry to laugh about today.
Well, besides that guy Randy w/those Honeybadger videos. That's pretty much what got me thru today. Reading his book, and watching his videos.
For starters, the RnY puts me in a risk factor for anemia, and the adenomyosis (there I go again, harping about this!) drains my body of iron. So it's a perfect storm, of sorts, setting me up for FerritinFAIL! :(
And mind you, this is with me being DILIGENT about taking ALL my supplements (and then some) as a post-opper. I think I've missed maybe 3 iron doses in the last 16 months. Not too shabby.
I've been on a quest of sorts to find the perfect iron formulation for me. I was taking a Centrum with iron and then switched off to a prenatal (Vitafusion, they're effing delicious) because it's got a lot of folate and biotin, and took a separate iron supplement.
Up until a week ago, I was taking Bariatric Advantage brand "iron supplement." I put that in quotes because it doesn't list what type of iron it is. (Doing the chewy chews, raspberry chocolate truffle--not bad tasting, btw.) So I've switched off to some off-brand carbonyl iron in tablet form. Two tablets put me at over 200% of the RDA for iron. Going to start taking them 2x a day (1 tablet 2x a day; NOT 2 tablets 2x a day, just to clarify).
Anyway, the anemia is just one more thing to deal with. Granted it's a fairly BIG NEGATIVE to deal with on top of everything else I'm dealing with, both as a post opper, as well as all the other stuff related to my PCOS and other health issues.
The anemia, I am certain is to blame for my fatigue, my stamina problems, some of my aches and pains or stiffness, and no doubt my dizziness, which I've been complaining about for months, and yet, no one seems all too concerned about it.
My depth perception has been a bit "off" since roughly January, but I don't know if that's related to the anemia or the fact I am now officially an old fart and had to break down and get bi-focals (actually "progressives").
So, on top of all this, and on top of the personal shitstorm I weathered in March at the hands of Crazy McLoonypants, my natural tendency at this point is to just withdraw, which then makes me miserable on another level (cabin fever).
All life is suffering. This would fit the bill. And in the grand scheme of things, I'll take this suffering over alternative sufferings. I'm fairly miserable at the moment.
Nearly every day I cry. Yesterday it was in my car, during downtime waiting to pick up the husband at the train. I felt so miserable, and the only person who could console me, my dad, isn't here anymore to do that. Today it was in my kitchen, dizzy spell full in force. Husband came in the room for me to fling my arms around and just sob. He doesn't hug or console. But he's there. He doesn't have a clue what to do to make things better, and I know from a guy's perspective, that is the supreme head fuck, because guys don't want to listen to complaining or crying, they're FIXERS. They want to fix what's broke. And we're both at a loss at this point regarding HOW to fix this thing.
I feel like utter crap. So much so, when I woke up this morning, I was truly surprised. Yes. Surprised. Because when I went to bed last night, I felt so horrid, I was 50% certain I'd die in my sleep, and 50% HOPING I'd die in my sleep.
No one likes a whiner. But there ya go. At a minimum, it's real life. It's authentic. And yet sadly, I cannot find something ironic or wry to laugh about today.
Well, besides that guy Randy w/those Honeybadger videos. That's pretty much what got me thru today. Reading his book, and watching his videos.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Gotta Get Off My Duff
Feeling terribly drained (still), and have had a full-ish weekend, which isn't doing much to undo the drainage.
Friday night went to a silent auction I go to every year for the last 14. In fact, the very first one I attended, I came home and that's when my first marriage went belly up and imploded. So for me, it's the anniversary of the decimation and devastation I went thru... AND SURVIVED, as well as a nice evening out, even if I don't see my aunt (who invites me every year) much as she volunteers her time for the event.
The event is about 45 minutes (to an hour) away from my home, and that's small potatoes regarding me and driving, but given the high speed near-collision of a few weeks ago, I had a lot of trepidation making that trip to Jersey. Going there was no problem, but at 11 p.m. when the event finally ended, making that trip home, alone, in the dark, unnerved me. At one point I was trembling. Not sure if it was over caffeination, nerves or if I caught a momentary chill. Luckily I got home in one piece.
I'm now wondering if driving with bifocals/progressives is the smartest thing to do. I need to check with my uncle (who's an optician) about this. I am convinced it messes with my depth perception.
Anyway, yesterday we did nothing but hang out and nap. And today I have plans to meet a friend for brunch, of which I'm regretting making those plans because I just can't convince myself to get dressed. But I need to. But part of me is reluctant because I know the moment I leave the house for brunch, my day will be shot. Hang out w/friend until about 3 or 4, then come home, pick up husband for dinner and a movie, and before you know it, evening will be here, and Monday, dreaded Monday will be right around the corner.
Time to wash my ass and get dressed. I need to get out of the house. It's like I'm in a battle of wills... WITH MYSELF. WTF.
Friday night went to a silent auction I go to every year for the last 14. In fact, the very first one I attended, I came home and that's when my first marriage went belly up and imploded. So for me, it's the anniversary of the decimation and devastation I went thru... AND SURVIVED, as well as a nice evening out, even if I don't see my aunt (who invites me every year) much as she volunteers her time for the event.
The event is about 45 minutes (to an hour) away from my home, and that's small potatoes regarding me and driving, but given the high speed near-collision of a few weeks ago, I had a lot of trepidation making that trip to Jersey. Going there was no problem, but at 11 p.m. when the event finally ended, making that trip home, alone, in the dark, unnerved me. At one point I was trembling. Not sure if it was over caffeination, nerves or if I caught a momentary chill. Luckily I got home in one piece.
I'm now wondering if driving with bifocals/progressives is the smartest thing to do. I need to check with my uncle (who's an optician) about this. I am convinced it messes with my depth perception.
Anyway, yesterday we did nothing but hang out and nap. And today I have plans to meet a friend for brunch, of which I'm regretting making those plans because I just can't convince myself to get dressed. But I need to. But part of me is reluctant because I know the moment I leave the house for brunch, my day will be shot. Hang out w/friend until about 3 or 4, then come home, pick up husband for dinner and a movie, and before you know it, evening will be here, and Monday, dreaded Monday will be right around the corner.
Time to wash my ass and get dressed. I need to get out of the house. It's like I'm in a battle of wills... WITH MYSELF. WTF.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
On Inventing My Own Fun
So yeah, my former boss, you remember HIM, don't you? The guy who left here under the darkness of night, emptying out his office, without so much as an email to support staff to: 1. Thank us for seven years of service; and 2. Let us know how to handle in-coming calls and mail. Yeah... HIM.
Come Memorial Day weekend, he'll be gone an entire year. Where did the time go? I don't wish him ill, I don't wish him well, I'm just glad to no longer be working with him any longer, for an assortment of reasons.
Last time I laid eyes on him was sometime in the summer at his mom's wake; and last time I heard from him was in November, the day of his official farewell party (granted 7 months after his departure from this office). YES, the party I was excluded from attending. Not that I would have gone, as it was in the Bronx on a week night, so naturally I would have declined. But I still say I should have been invited. But my lack of invitation truly spoke volumes to me about my standing in his eyes as well as the eyes of his nearest-and-dearest who handled the party arrangements.
So be that as it may, one of the guys in my agency, who works at the same location where former-bossman, aka TommyBoy, works now, approached me just now, telling me how TommyBoy had inquired about how I was doing, as if this particular guy sees me all the time? He sees me once in a very blue moon, at best. Furthermore, this guy lets me know that TommyBoy let him know I had some procedure done regarding weight loss. Not that it's TommyBoy's business to be sharing personal deets of mine like that. But therein lies the presumptuousness that TommyBoy has always had.
So I tell this guy to tell TommyBoy, "Oh yeah, she must have gained it all back. Are you sure she had some surgery? She looks the same to me as she always has." Because, let's be honest, if TommyBoy gave a shit about me or gave a shit about discretion, he'd either pick up the phone and call or zap me an email to find out for himself. So he devises this structure, this whatever-it-is to simulate communication with me, or appear as if he's even remotely interested in me as a human, not to mention interested in me as a former underling-and-confidante, when it's all just utter bullshit.
I wonder how he'd feel if I told folks about his bloody piss dribblin's in the handicapped bathroom, and how I was able to deduce some sort of bladder or prostate issue long before he shared those details with me personally.
Or perhaps this is TommyBoy's way of goading an interaction with me, by subconsciously goading me to email him to find out how he's doing. Goad away, piss boy. I'm not takin' the bait.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a hellacious pimple in my eyebrow that needs to be coaxed the fuck out of my skin.
Come Memorial Day weekend, he'll be gone an entire year. Where did the time go? I don't wish him ill, I don't wish him well, I'm just glad to no longer be working with him any longer, for an assortment of reasons.
Last time I laid eyes on him was sometime in the summer at his mom's wake; and last time I heard from him was in November, the day of his official farewell party (granted 7 months after his departure from this office). YES, the party I was excluded from attending. Not that I would have gone, as it was in the Bronx on a week night, so naturally I would have declined. But I still say I should have been invited. But my lack of invitation truly spoke volumes to me about my standing in his eyes as well as the eyes of his nearest-and-dearest who handled the party arrangements.
So be that as it may, one of the guys in my agency, who works at the same location where former-bossman, aka TommyBoy, works now, approached me just now, telling me how TommyBoy had inquired about how I was doing, as if this particular guy sees me all the time? He sees me once in a very blue moon, at best. Furthermore, this guy lets me know that TommyBoy let him know I had some procedure done regarding weight loss. Not that it's TommyBoy's business to be sharing personal deets of mine like that. But therein lies the presumptuousness that TommyBoy has always had.
So I tell this guy to tell TommyBoy, "Oh yeah, she must have gained it all back. Are you sure she had some surgery? She looks the same to me as she always has." Because, let's be honest, if TommyBoy gave a shit about me or gave a shit about discretion, he'd either pick up the phone and call or zap me an email to find out for himself. So he devises this structure, this whatever-it-is to simulate communication with me, or appear as if he's even remotely interested in me as a human, not to mention interested in me as a former underling-and-confidante, when it's all just utter bullshit.
I wonder how he'd feel if I told folks about his bloody piss dribblin's in the handicapped bathroom, and how I was able to deduce some sort of bladder or prostate issue long before he shared those details with me personally.
Or perhaps this is TommyBoy's way of goading an interaction with me, by subconsciously goading me to email him to find out how he's doing. Goad away, piss boy. I'm not takin' the bait.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a hellacious pimple in my eyebrow that needs to be coaxed the fuck out of my skin.
Monday, April 09, 2012
On Being Gaslighted (or Gaslit?)
Reading up on the topic today. http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2011/11/16/more-on-gaslighting/
And holy shit, it's a pattern that repeats itself, ironically, REPEATEDLY, in my life.
The whole formula of it is just so patently obvious, which seems to be three-pronged: shock (of the abuse), more abuse when you defend yourself, ending with depression.
Glad to know this type of abuse actually has a name and is a known entity. Sick, but glad to know.
I've seen this pattern with my mother and my sister, and most-recently someone with whom I was cultivating a friendship with. Granted, I cannot really cut off my mother and my sister as they're family, but I cut off toxic non-family eventually, and when I do, it's usually with spectacularly bitter results. The need to control me or try to control and/or rewrite our common narrative seems to be the main theme I've encountered.
I have no visions of grandeur or an over inflated sense of who or what I am. I know Im not perfect, but by and large, I certainly don't deserve to be treated with cruelty.
Not sure of the purpose of today's blog post, but I just feel my sense of perspective is just so undermined by this abuse. Hell, even in a FB thread I started which was a poll about my sister :
And one of my replies in the thread just summed up how perverse the abuse is:
And holy shit, it's a pattern that repeats itself, ironically, REPEATEDLY, in my life.
The whole formula of it is just so patently obvious, which seems to be three-pronged: shock (of the abuse), more abuse when you defend yourself, ending with depression.
Glad to know this type of abuse actually has a name and is a known entity. Sick, but glad to know.
I've seen this pattern with my mother and my sister, and most-recently someone with whom I was cultivating a friendship with. Granted, I cannot really cut off my mother and my sister as they're family, but I cut off toxic non-family eventually, and when I do, it's usually with spectacularly bitter results. The need to control me or try to control and/or rewrite our common narrative seems to be the main theme I've encountered.
I have no visions of grandeur or an over inflated sense of who or what I am. I know Im not perfect, but by and large, I certainly don't deserve to be treated with cruelty.
Not sure of the purpose of today's blog post, but I just feel my sense of perspective is just so undermined by this abuse. Hell, even in a FB thread I started which was a poll about my sister :
Poll: If my sis doesn't keep in touch w/ me, does she have the right to bitch when I don't go out of my way to keep in touch w/ her?
And one of my replies in the thread just summed up how perverse the abuse is:
The thing I find so twisted about the gaslighting abuse is... the cycle of self-doubt and depression that takes place, because SURELY there can't be THAT MANY folks gaslighting me... could there? See? I just did it again! Drat!In the end, if I cannot have my sister as I knew her, as an ally back, then I'd just assume be on the receiving end of "being ignored."
Sunday, April 08, 2012
Just an FYI, I'm going to take a nap. Mom called to wish me a happy Easter. Brother texted me. I don't feel like dwelling on the fact that I'll only get a Happy Easter out of my sister if I call (as if the phone only works if I pick it up and dial).
Going for a nap. It's either nap now, or continue to consciously force myself NOT to roast up a pork loin I won't be eating for the next 2-3 days, or a butternut stew for the husband.
Need.
Nap.
Now.
Going for a nap. It's either nap now, or continue to consciously force myself NOT to roast up a pork loin I won't be eating for the next 2-3 days, or a butternut stew for the husband.
Need.
Nap.
Now.
2 Steps Forward, 1 Step Back
I was really feeling good until the end of February. I mean, joint pain aside, that is. Mentally and emotionally I haven't felt THAT good in years. Then somehow at the end of February carrying thru the entirety of the month of March, it all went to shit.
I've been boosting my B12 and taking my iron in tablet form, hoping that it'll remedy the situation. My insomnia is back in full force. I feel drained all the time. And within the last seven weeks, I feel like I've aged 7-10 years. I feel old and frail and stooped.
My herniations in the neck and my seasonal allergies are kicked up into high gear.
I've been very depressed, and certain behaviors manifest themselves when I get like this, one of which is I tend to go overboard cooking. For normal folks with a household brimming with family, this would not be an issue, but it's just me and the husband, and though we like to eat most of the same types of foods, ideally, my diet is more protein based and his is more carbohydrate based, so really lots of times, I'm just making stuff for either myself or him.
Sundays are my usual "cooking for the week day," where I do big batches of stuff, or do up a week's worth of meals and package some up for the freezer, so on the days I don't cook, the husband can pick and choose what he wants to eat from the freezer. Just the other day, I pulled out a pint of double pork gumbo, so I just steamed up some rice and broiled up some blackened shrimp, and he was amazed at what lurks in the freezer.
The problem lies in the fact that I am a food hoarder, but not to the excessive extreme as I've seen on that dreadful t.v. show. I just like that sense of abundance, and that ability to just pull together a meal out of thin air. But there is a price to be paid, and that's usually a cluttered pantry that needs to be cleaned out regularly, as well as a freezer that needs to have the contents consumed more speedily.
But today, Easter Sunday, I don't just feel "flat" but feel like I've redefined bottom. I miss my dad profusely. Miss every little aspect of Easter Sundays that I'll never experience again with loved ones who have passed on, sobered by the knowledge that unless I break down and make a holiday call, no one in my family will call me.
Granted the holiday doesn't mean much to me anymore these days. By and large I feel forsaken, both, by God and by family, which of course, makes me cling to my husband even more, because my reality is, with the exception of some wonderful long-time friends, my husband is all I have in this world upon which I can rely.
Some days I get sucker punched with my grief, as it catches me out of the blue, unwittingly. I'll sit in my car and look up at the branches of the cherry trees or look up at the stars in the sky, and think if dad's anywhere, he's there. Or I close my eyes and I can visualize his face where my own face is, and he lives on in the facial expressions we both have. I rue about thinking, "Did we even exist?" "Where does the love go?" and I feel trapped.
My grief and sadness isn't exclusive to holidays. It happens out of the blue, like when I'm making a particularly delicious or adventurous dish. I think of the supreme compliment dad gave me one time after coming to my home in the 1990s for brunch, "I never know what I'm going to eat, but I always enjoy what I've eaten." So I think of him during delicious meals. I just wish that I had a few more meals to make for him.
In the fridge right now:
Leftover egg curry
Leftover pork vindaloo
Shrimp & chorizo marinating in garlic scape pesto to be cooked off tonight or tomorrow night
Pork loin marinating in ginger and teriyaki to be cooked up tonight or tomorrow
From the freezer (to make more room) leftover butter chicken & fenugreek potatoes
... and yet, I have a big bag of mixed fresh veggies which need to be dealt with before they spoil, and I was thinking of making a big batch of navratan korma (literally means 9 gems---nine ingredients, tho I don't know why they call it that, as it's got more than 9 ingredients), as well as a big batch of south Indian butternut squash stew.
So you see my problem. It's insane.
Oh, and the green room, my "den of iniquity," I haven't done shit to get it tidied up. It still brings a lot of anxiety when I come in here.
I've been boosting my B12 and taking my iron in tablet form, hoping that it'll remedy the situation. My insomnia is back in full force. I feel drained all the time. And within the last seven weeks, I feel like I've aged 7-10 years. I feel old and frail and stooped.
My herniations in the neck and my seasonal allergies are kicked up into high gear.
I've been very depressed, and certain behaviors manifest themselves when I get like this, one of which is I tend to go overboard cooking. For normal folks with a household brimming with family, this would not be an issue, but it's just me and the husband, and though we like to eat most of the same types of foods, ideally, my diet is more protein based and his is more carbohydrate based, so really lots of times, I'm just making stuff for either myself or him.
Sundays are my usual "cooking for the week day," where I do big batches of stuff, or do up a week's worth of meals and package some up for the freezer, so on the days I don't cook, the husband can pick and choose what he wants to eat from the freezer. Just the other day, I pulled out a pint of double pork gumbo, so I just steamed up some rice and broiled up some blackened shrimp, and he was amazed at what lurks in the freezer.
The problem lies in the fact that I am a food hoarder, but not to the excessive extreme as I've seen on that dreadful t.v. show. I just like that sense of abundance, and that ability to just pull together a meal out of thin air. But there is a price to be paid, and that's usually a cluttered pantry that needs to be cleaned out regularly, as well as a freezer that needs to have the contents consumed more speedily.
But today, Easter Sunday, I don't just feel "flat" but feel like I've redefined bottom. I miss my dad profusely. Miss every little aspect of Easter Sundays that I'll never experience again with loved ones who have passed on, sobered by the knowledge that unless I break down and make a holiday call, no one in my family will call me.
Granted the holiday doesn't mean much to me anymore these days. By and large I feel forsaken, both, by God and by family, which of course, makes me cling to my husband even more, because my reality is, with the exception of some wonderful long-time friends, my husband is all I have in this world upon which I can rely.
Some days I get sucker punched with my grief, as it catches me out of the blue, unwittingly. I'll sit in my car and look up at the branches of the cherry trees or look up at the stars in the sky, and think if dad's anywhere, he's there. Or I close my eyes and I can visualize his face where my own face is, and he lives on in the facial expressions we both have. I rue about thinking, "Did we even exist?" "Where does the love go?" and I feel trapped.
My grief and sadness isn't exclusive to holidays. It happens out of the blue, like when I'm making a particularly delicious or adventurous dish. I think of the supreme compliment dad gave me one time after coming to my home in the 1990s for brunch, "I never know what I'm going to eat, but I always enjoy what I've eaten." So I think of him during delicious meals. I just wish that I had a few more meals to make for him.
In the fridge right now:
Leftover egg curry
Leftover pork vindaloo
Shrimp & chorizo marinating in garlic scape pesto to be cooked off tonight or tomorrow night
Pork loin marinating in ginger and teriyaki to be cooked up tonight or tomorrow
From the freezer (to make more room) leftover butter chicken & fenugreek potatoes
... and yet, I have a big bag of mixed fresh veggies which need to be dealt with before they spoil, and I was thinking of making a big batch of navratan korma (literally means 9 gems---nine ingredients, tho I don't know why they call it that, as it's got more than 9 ingredients), as well as a big batch of south Indian butternut squash stew.
So you see my problem. It's insane.
Oh, and the green room, my "den of iniquity," I haven't done shit to get it tidied up. It still brings a lot of anxiety when I come in here.
Friday, April 06, 2012
Fighting off the blues
Been actively depressed for over a month now. Bailed out of lunch in NYC with a friend on Monday, and was debating bailing out of knit night on Weds, but so glad I didn't. Had a good time, and felt good to be with actual friends. Had some seriously good laughs. Some times I think I need that one night a week to get out, and some weeks I feel that the other ladies need it more than I do. I love the vicissitudes, the dynamic and energy from week to week.
So very lucky to have good friends.
So very lucky to have good friends.
Tuesday, April 03, 2012
Prognosis Negative
So, I went to NewGynoTM yesterday for the follow up re: my fibroid which was removed on 3/13.
Pathology for both, the fibroid/polyp as well as my uterine lining were negative for cancer.
So it's a good news, bad news kinda thing. Good news = no cancer. Bad news = I have to live in pain or dull it with vicodin.
Pathology for both, the fibroid/polyp as well as my uterine lining were negative for cancer.
So it's a good news, bad news kinda thing. Good news = no cancer. Bad news = I have to live in pain or dull it with vicodin.
Let No Good Deed Go Unpunished
So, let's say I know you eat a lot of smoothies etc, and you put chia seeds in them. Every day.
So, let's say I let you know that Chia has arsenic in it, and merely, prudently suggest that you get your blood levels checked for arsenic, as I am getting mine tested for the same reason (i.e. that I, too, eat chia, tho not on the same level of regularity that you do).
There's no judgment on my part, when I made the innocent, yet helpful enough suggestion. Most folks do not know that chia contains laetril, aka "Vitamin B17" which contains arsenic.
Sure, you may get your blood tested regularly for other things. And sure your blood comes up negative for arsenic. Why does it come up negative? Well, arsenic isn't one of those things that will suddenly and magically appear on a standard CBC/Smack. This is something that you have to actually intentionally have a specific test run.
Unfortunately, I realize I've "poked the crazy" with my good intentions, when I share a few links, and of course you have to have the last word... fine fine! and share a few links of your own... only for you to "come back" with, "... and I eat apples WHOLE every day."
Funny thing here is, the same doctor who is touting the benefits of Chia is Dr. Oz, the very same doctor who several months back put the fear of arsenic via apple eating into most of the US.
At this point, I realize my good intentions are falling on deaf ears. And that's fine. I'm cool with that. That's your prerogative. Live and let live. Eat your apples, seeds and all. Eat all the chia to your heart's content. But when your youngest child who has been eating and drinking everything you have been for the last several years ends up with neurological issues or learning disabilities or behavioral issues due to arsenic toxicity, you have no one to blame but yourself.
So, let's say I let you know that Chia has arsenic in it, and merely, prudently suggest that you get your blood levels checked for arsenic, as I am getting mine tested for the same reason (i.e. that I, too, eat chia, tho not on the same level of regularity that you do).
There's no judgment on my part, when I made the innocent, yet helpful enough suggestion. Most folks do not know that chia contains laetril, aka "Vitamin B17" which contains arsenic.
Sure, you may get your blood tested regularly for other things. And sure your blood comes up negative for arsenic. Why does it come up negative? Well, arsenic isn't one of those things that will suddenly and magically appear on a standard CBC/Smack. This is something that you have to actually intentionally have a specific test run.
Unfortunately, I realize I've "poked the crazy" with my good intentions, when I share a few links, and of course you have to have the last word... fine fine! and share a few links of your own... only for you to "come back" with, "... and I eat apples WHOLE every day."
Funny thing here is, the same doctor who is touting the benefits of Chia is Dr. Oz, the very same doctor who several months back put the fear of arsenic via apple eating into most of the US.
At this point, I realize my good intentions are falling on deaf ears. And that's fine. I'm cool with that. That's your prerogative. Live and let live. Eat your apples, seeds and all. Eat all the chia to your heart's content. But when your youngest child who has been eating and drinking everything you have been for the last several years ends up with neurological issues or learning disabilities or behavioral issues due to arsenic toxicity, you have no one to blame but yourself.
Sunday, April 01, 2012
And on the other hand....
Interesting, yet unique milestone met this weekend while shopping for a new pair of jeans. Went to The Avenue and picked up two pairs. Size 14. Fills me with glee, as this is the smallest size The Avenue sells (and they were a smidge loose--let's see if a run thru the washer and dryer doesn't fix that). Kinda makes me wistful, kinda, at the prospect of not "having" to shop at a shop specializing in larger sizes soon/anymore.
Ever be so depressed...
You wake yourself up out of a sound sleep, crying?
Yeah. That's where I'm at right this moment. Been weepy most of the weekend.
Tired of feeling this way, coupled up with missing my father really intensely. Feeling incredibly alone. And going on Monday for blood work and follow up with the gyno re: results of the fibroid/polyp thingy that was removed a few weeks back.
Not PMSing. Not sure what's causing this bit of weepy-ness.
Yeah. That's where I'm at right this moment. Been weepy most of the weekend.
Tired of feeling this way, coupled up with missing my father really intensely. Feeling incredibly alone. And going on Monday for blood work and follow up with the gyno re: results of the fibroid/polyp thingy that was removed a few weeks back.
Not PMSing. Not sure what's causing this bit of weepy-ness.
Everyone's Journey's Different...
Blah blah blah.
I can't resist getting ticked off tho, that someone who had their surgery nearly 9 months to a year AFTER I have and they currently have lost 20# more than I have.
Granted, different surgeries for us both, and I've followed everything quite religiously (especially the no booze thing until nearly a year post-op).
Hoping that my weight loss will continue, albeit slowly, steadily, and hopefully that slow and steady wins this race... such as it is.
I can't resist getting ticked off tho, that someone who had their surgery nearly 9 months to a year AFTER I have and they currently have lost 20# more than I have.
Granted, different surgeries for us both, and I've followed everything quite religiously (especially the no booze thing until nearly a year post-op).
Hoping that my weight loss will continue, albeit slowly, steadily, and hopefully that slow and steady wins this race... such as it is.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
"Excuse me, have we met?"
That's pretty much what I wanted to blurt out in text to/with my sister, when in the text I sent about how I wouldn't be there for Easter but would be at Mother's Day, "depending on pain and weather." Which, if she paid any attention to me over the years would comprehend.
Instead, I get a text back, "What pain?" which I think I regaled in a previous blog post. I wasn't going to engage or poke the obtuse-ity, but decided I would, just to see what level of stupidity comes next.
So, I text back, "adenomyosis, herniation, deviated disc, damaged ACL in both knees, heel spurs, arthritis all throughout, and carpal tunnel."
Stupidity I received in return, "What herniation?"
My reply, "Uh, from the bad accident I was in, in 1999? Rear ended? By an 18 wheeler? Ring a bell?"
So far no reply.
Not that I need to justify my actions, however, between the low back pain which does NOT improve sitting stationary for 2.5 hours in traffic to get there (and back) the carpal tunnel poses just as big if not a bigger obstacle, as it's pretty damned difficult to steer a car if your hand is in spasm from carpal tunnel.
This is almost as tedious as trying to dispel her "myth" and presumption that I never wanted to have kids (vis-a-vis discussions about fertility and my adenomyosis & PCOS).
Have we met? Srsly. I wish there truly were a block user function for folks in real life.
Instead, I get a text back, "What pain?" which I think I regaled in a previous blog post. I wasn't going to engage or poke the obtuse-ity, but decided I would, just to see what level of stupidity comes next.
So, I text back, "adenomyosis, herniation, deviated disc, damaged ACL in both knees, heel spurs, arthritis all throughout, and carpal tunnel."
Stupidity I received in return, "What herniation?"
My reply, "Uh, from the bad accident I was in, in 1999? Rear ended? By an 18 wheeler? Ring a bell?"
So far no reply.
Not that I need to justify my actions, however, between the low back pain which does NOT improve sitting stationary for 2.5 hours in traffic to get there (and back) the carpal tunnel poses just as big if not a bigger obstacle, as it's pretty damned difficult to steer a car if your hand is in spasm from carpal tunnel.
This is almost as tedious as trying to dispel her "myth" and presumption that I never wanted to have kids (vis-a-vis discussions about fertility and my adenomyosis & PCOS).
Have we met? Srsly. I wish there truly were a block user function for folks in real life.
Friday, March 30, 2012
So Yeah...
A few weeks ago, after being pressed to tell my sister about my adenomyosis, given the direct hit, such as it were, "So what's the big secret?" And when I told her what was going on, then decided to share she, was contemplating going in for ablation. One would assume that would have been sufficient to shut her up, given she's trying to compare notes, journeys or what... I give up.
She knew I was going in on 3/13 to get my fibroid (or polyp?) removed surgically. Yet haven't heard from her, not a peep, not a call or text to see how it went or how I'm feeling. Not that she needs to, but yanno, that's what I'd do if I *CARED*. So just like my gastric bypass which she had volunteered to come up and help me with the post op, which came and went without so much as a call to see how the surgery went or if I needed her help, the fibroid removal came and went without a call of concern or whatevs.
Yet, as I mentioned in a previous post, she did manage to call and leave a voicemail about Easter. I wait a few days to text back, "Can't make it for Easter. Depending on weather and pain, I might come down for Mother's Day." Reply got back, "Why are you in pain?"
Srsly?
I don't even want to engage anymore. It's just too fucking tedious.
What pain?:
Herniation in my neck
Diminished disc space in low spine
Congenital twist in hip
Damaged ACL in both knees
Heel spurs
Arthritis all throughout
Carpal tunnel (really a big problem gripping a steering wheel for 2.5 hours each way)
OH AND THE SEARING LOW BACK PAIN FROM THE ADENOMYOSIS YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A BONDING MOMENT OVER? That right there is what I want to scream at her. But it's not worth it. Things are stressful and tenuous enough as it is. Makes me very stabby thinking about it.
She knew I was going in on 3/13 to get my fibroid (or polyp?) removed surgically. Yet haven't heard from her, not a peep, not a call or text to see how it went or how I'm feeling. Not that she needs to, but yanno, that's what I'd do if I *CARED*. So just like my gastric bypass which she had volunteered to come up and help me with the post op, which came and went without so much as a call to see how the surgery went or if I needed her help, the fibroid removal came and went without a call of concern or whatevs.
Yet, as I mentioned in a previous post, she did manage to call and leave a voicemail about Easter. I wait a few days to text back, "Can't make it for Easter. Depending on weather and pain, I might come down for Mother's Day." Reply got back, "Why are you in pain?"
Srsly?
I don't even want to engage anymore. It's just too fucking tedious.
What pain?:
Herniation in my neck
Diminished disc space in low spine
Congenital twist in hip
Damaged ACL in both knees
Heel spurs
Arthritis all throughout
Carpal tunnel (really a big problem gripping a steering wheel for 2.5 hours each way)
OH AND THE SEARING LOW BACK PAIN FROM THE ADENOMYOSIS YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A BONDING MOMENT OVER? That right there is what I want to scream at her. But it's not worth it. Things are stressful and tenuous enough as it is. Makes me very stabby thinking about it.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Survey Says...
No.
I'm not going for Easter. Sticking to my guns vis-a-vis no more big holiday family parties. Tho to be honest, in May there's no doubt going to be a Mother's Day "thing" possibly at my sister's house (again). So really, what am I missing out on? Oh yes, to do what sis wants me to do when and how she wants me to do it.
Mother's Day. Memorial Day. Fourth of July. Labor Day. Columbus Day. Halloween. Then "the holiday season." So... Yes. No. No. HELL NO. No. No. Will be in Panama. And "perhaps."
Been married ten-going-on-eleven years. She's been to my home precisely twice. So, uh. No.
In an oddball turn of events, I haven't responded to the voice mail immediately. No interest in it really.
I mean, fuck. 2.5 hour drive on a holiday weekend, starchy food I can't really eat, and I have to jam ear plugs in my ears just to get thru the "party?" only to drive 2.5 hours back home, and risk being killed by some nut changing lanes Helen Keller style at break neck speed? ALONE? Not my idea of a good time.
If I go she bitches about me, if I don't go she bitches about me. ::Shrugs:: I'd rather stay home, stay in my pajamas, eat some pork, GET PORKED, and have a lovely low key day, rather than fuck up yet another Sunday-leading-into-Monday, my least favorite day of the week.
Oh, PS? I'm still flowing. WTFF?
I'm not going for Easter. Sticking to my guns vis-a-vis no more big holiday family parties. Tho to be honest, in May there's no doubt going to be a Mother's Day "thing" possibly at my sister's house (again). So really, what am I missing out on? Oh yes, to do what sis wants me to do when and how she wants me to do it.
Mother's Day. Memorial Day. Fourth of July. Labor Day. Columbus Day. Halloween. Then "the holiday season." So... Yes. No. No. HELL NO. No. No. Will be in Panama. And "perhaps."
Been married ten-going-on-eleven years. She's been to my home precisely twice. So, uh. No.
In an oddball turn of events, I haven't responded to the voice mail immediately. No interest in it really.
I mean, fuck. 2.5 hour drive on a holiday weekend, starchy food I can't really eat, and I have to jam ear plugs in my ears just to get thru the "party?" only to drive 2.5 hours back home, and risk being killed by some nut changing lanes Helen Keller style at break neck speed? ALONE? Not my idea of a good time.
If I go she bitches about me, if I don't go she bitches about me. ::Shrugs:: I'd rather stay home, stay in my pajamas, eat some pork, GET PORKED, and have a lovely low key day, rather than fuck up yet another Sunday-leading-into-Monday, my least favorite day of the week.
Oh, PS? I'm still flowing. WTFF?
Monday, March 26, 2012
Eventually, I hope I won't give it anymore headspace; however, my harrasser has taken, now, to mocking my appearance. Apparently I look like Truman Capote (white, fat, and gay). Just wow. It's been over two weeks since the Great Defriending Debacle of 2012. You'd think all that rage would just be running on fumes right about now.
KAL Brand Calcium Citrate (Chewable)
FWIW, I'm mostly a Citracal Petites gal (for tablets) and only prefer "chewy" type chewable calciums (Bariatric Advantage, Calcet are my fave chewies; and Healthy Indulgence by Hero brand dark chocolates are all quite good).
I normally do not prefer the disk/wafer type chews that are usually too tart and too big and sometimes too hard to chew... kinda like a big hard Sweet Tart candy. I tried Bariatric Advantage and I believe Twin Labs brands chewable calcium citrates, both of which were so tart, I couldn't choke them back.
KAL brand calcium citrate, at least in the mixed fruit flavor, are quite pleasant. Much more sweet than tart, more reminiscent of Sweet Tart candies than the other disk/wafer type chews I've tried.
My habit is to take at least two of my doses per day in tablet form, and 2 doses in chewable. I do this for two reasons: 1. Calories (despite it being a mineral supplement, they DO contain calories, so taking tablets cuts down on extra calories being consumed); 2. I like to have something sweet in the afternoon with my coffee, something to feel like a sweet treat. The Bariatric Advantage and the Calcet chews fit that bill. And for when I feel like I need a dark chocolate (and ladies, you know what I mean by NEED chocolate), the Healthy Indulgence dark chocolates are truly delicious--they taste like high quality dark chocolate rather than a mineral supplement.
I normally do not prefer the disk/wafer type chews that are usually too tart and too big and sometimes too hard to chew... kinda like a big hard Sweet Tart candy. I tried Bariatric Advantage and I believe Twin Labs brands chewable calcium citrates, both of which were so tart, I couldn't choke them back.
KAL brand calcium citrate, at least in the mixed fruit flavor, are quite pleasant. Much more sweet than tart, more reminiscent of Sweet Tart candies than the other disk/wafer type chews I've tried.
My habit is to take at least two of my doses per day in tablet form, and 2 doses in chewable. I do this for two reasons: 1. Calories (despite it being a mineral supplement, they DO contain calories, so taking tablets cuts down on extra calories being consumed); 2. I like to have something sweet in the afternoon with my coffee, something to feel like a sweet treat. The Bariatric Advantage and the Calcet chews fit that bill. And for when I feel like I need a dark chocolate (and ladies, you know what I mean by NEED chocolate), the Healthy Indulgence dark chocolates are truly delicious--they taste like high quality dark chocolate rather than a mineral supplement.
Wanting to take the path of least resistance...
Not really sure of what is the point of this blog post, but need to just purge it out of me so I can get on with my day. Harp harp harp, whine whine whine. Yeah. I'm going to bitch about my sister again.
While I don't "get" this alienation thing that's going on, and her passive-aggression vis-a-vis ignoring me, then saying something to mom about how I'm ignoring her, or better yet, her bitching about me (and my absence at family functions), I do understand, hey, life gets in the way. If I were a Type A with a child being cultivated to be Type A, had a job I hate (who doesn't?), had an ulcer, plus always over extending myself, yeah, I suppose I wouldn't have time to return a call or a text or an email or whatever.
Confused? Welcome to the club. So am I.
So imagine my "glee" when out of the blue, my cell phone rings last night, and of course, I didn't get to it fast enough to answer it (plus, let's be honest, the call came thru during the season premiere of Mad Men, enough said), when I realized the call I just missed was my sister. So yeah. Out of the blue. The only time I hear from her is on her terms, when she wants something from me. And the something in question is my presence at Easter dinner.
Yeah. That's what's got a bee in my bonnet as it were. I loathe making that drive to begin with. I loathe holiday parties with our family. They are too loud, rarely start on time, drag on forever, are focused primarily on food and snark, and I just am not up to it, physically or emotionally.
Harp harp harp, whine whine whine... yeah. And of course, the never-ending reminder of the void.
Why can't she call to make plans with ME, without a crowd, without an audience, without an agenda blah blah... early in the day on a SATURDAY, so I could either spend the day with her and go home during daylight hours, or sleep over and head home early Sunday a.m.?
Granted, I cannot control when Easter lands, and the obvious, that it always lands on a Sunday.
Granted, I cannot control my sister and her ambivalence about keeping in touch with me.
But I CAN control the circumstances around me, to a degree, by limiting my exposure to things that irritate, depress or anger me.
Perhaps I'd feel more inclined to make the effort to attend if the voicemail started with "Hey, how did the procedure go?" and then work up to Easter later on in the voicemail or perhaps during a follow up call. But it didn't. Yeah, I've got my judgey-pants on today. Hey, if I'm going to be vilified for avoiding family functions, I'll indulge a bit in it myself. I never hear from her. I've stopped trying to continue to forge or cultivate that relationship, as it's obvious how unbalanced and conditional it is. Yet, in my desire to try to do what is right for myself, philosophically and emotionally, I'm sure it has a cost, being a weirded out negative relationship with my niece.
Debating seriously about not going. It's just another Sunday to me anyway.
While I don't "get" this alienation thing that's going on, and her passive-aggression vis-a-vis ignoring me, then saying something to mom about how I'm ignoring her, or better yet, her bitching about me (and my absence at family functions), I do understand, hey, life gets in the way. If I were a Type A with a child being cultivated to be Type A, had a job I hate (who doesn't?), had an ulcer, plus always over extending myself, yeah, I suppose I wouldn't have time to return a call or a text or an email or whatever.
Confused? Welcome to the club. So am I.
So imagine my "glee" when out of the blue, my cell phone rings last night, and of course, I didn't get to it fast enough to answer it (plus, let's be honest, the call came thru during the season premiere of Mad Men, enough said), when I realized the call I just missed was my sister. So yeah. Out of the blue. The only time I hear from her is on her terms, when she wants something from me. And the something in question is my presence at Easter dinner.
Yeah. That's what's got a bee in my bonnet as it were. I loathe making that drive to begin with. I loathe holiday parties with our family. They are too loud, rarely start on time, drag on forever, are focused primarily on food and snark, and I just am not up to it, physically or emotionally.
Harp harp harp, whine whine whine... yeah. And of course, the never-ending reminder of the void.
Why can't she call to make plans with ME, without a crowd, without an audience, without an agenda blah blah... early in the day on a SATURDAY, so I could either spend the day with her and go home during daylight hours, or sleep over and head home early Sunday a.m.?
Granted, I cannot control when Easter lands, and the obvious, that it always lands on a Sunday.
Granted, I cannot control my sister and her ambivalence about keeping in touch with me.
But I CAN control the circumstances around me, to a degree, by limiting my exposure to things that irritate, depress or anger me.
Perhaps I'd feel more inclined to make the effort to attend if the voicemail started with "Hey, how did the procedure go?" and then work up to Easter later on in the voicemail or perhaps during a follow up call. But it didn't. Yeah, I've got my judgey-pants on today. Hey, if I'm going to be vilified for avoiding family functions, I'll indulge a bit in it myself. I never hear from her. I've stopped trying to continue to forge or cultivate that relationship, as it's obvious how unbalanced and conditional it is. Yet, in my desire to try to do what is right for myself, philosophically and emotionally, I'm sure it has a cost, being a weirded out negative relationship with my niece.
Debating seriously about not going. It's just another Sunday to me anyway.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Look Away
Run down.
Depressed (physically and emotionally).
However, on an "up note," if I can even call it that, I discovered that there is actual medicinal properties to eating Indian food containing banana blossom. It actually is good for menstrual cramps and other female stuff.
No vicodin has been consumed thus far today.
Depressed (physically and emotionally).
However, on an "up note," if I can even call it that, I discovered that there is actual medicinal properties to eating Indian food containing banana blossom. It actually is good for menstrual cramps and other female stuff.
No vicodin has been consumed thus far today.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
The Verdict Is In
... regarding the after effects of having the fibroid or polyp removed: Onset day is a bit murky... can't tell if the flow on Thurs leading into Friday was the "spotting" or what, but yesterday evening into today... hellacious cramps. Took a vicodin in the evening yesterday and contemplating doing the same right about now.
Went for lunch w/a friend, then lost myself in thought in shopping for a few hours. Home now. Puttered with the pantry some more. Undershot how many baskets I should have bought, and need to traipse back to Chrismas Tree Shoppes again to get a few more, so I can get the pantry organized. I figure if I have baskets for my supplements, his supplements, and a few baskets which are "task specific" (in this case, baking supplies or canning supplies), it might help things have an overall asthetic of being tidy.
One thing this whole pantry organizing thing has brought to my mind, is how very much I am now a food hoarder since my surgery. I really get off on that sense of abundance, even if I'm not eating everything every second of the day. Hell, half the time when I do my "big cook day" of the week, just being around the food and smelling it cook is sufficient for me. And by the time I'm done cooking, I'm so sick of seeing and smelling what I've cooked, that I end up having some cheese and crackers and just call it a day.
I've got my "mise" for a few dishes already for me, but all I want to do right now is pop a vicodin, and wait a half hour so I can have some ice coffee.
Off to either crochet or curl up into the fetal position, I go.
Went for lunch w/a friend, then lost myself in thought in shopping for a few hours. Home now. Puttered with the pantry some more. Undershot how many baskets I should have bought, and need to traipse back to Chrismas Tree Shoppes again to get a few more, so I can get the pantry organized. I figure if I have baskets for my supplements, his supplements, and a few baskets which are "task specific" (in this case, baking supplies or canning supplies), it might help things have an overall asthetic of being tidy.
One thing this whole pantry organizing thing has brought to my mind, is how very much I am now a food hoarder since my surgery. I really get off on that sense of abundance, even if I'm not eating everything every second of the day. Hell, half the time when I do my "big cook day" of the week, just being around the food and smelling it cook is sufficient for me. And by the time I'm done cooking, I'm so sick of seeing and smelling what I've cooked, that I end up having some cheese and crackers and just call it a day.
I've got my "mise" for a few dishes already for me, but all I want to do right now is pop a vicodin, and wait a half hour so I can have some ice coffee.
Off to either crochet or curl up into the fetal position, I go.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Oh Boya...
Found out that Goya makes these diet versions of their fruit nectars, which I have to admit, makes me intensely happy. I don't drink all that much fruit juice in general, tho I do have an unrelenting love of Spicy V8. But every once in a while, it's a nice change to have a fruit juice as part of a snack (the lead-in to the solids).
Among the varieties I got, I got the soursop. At one time in the 1990s, I was fascinated by a fruit called the custard apple (I think Aussie Moist at the time put it in their shampoos), and even managed to buy one at a high end market once. Little did I realize that soursop and custard apple are the same fruit. And out of the varieties of the nectars, it's surprisingly lowest in calories.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soursop
Reading up the wiki on it, is a fascinating read. First off, there's a Hindu & Sri Lankan myth that Lord Rama and his monkey warrior Hanuman consumed this very fruit/juice en route to Sri Lanka (to rescue Sita from Ravana). So as I cracked the can open, but before I drank up, I muttered, "Jai Bajarang Bali!" (Hail Hanuman!)
Then there are two health related tidbits... one suggesting medical merit re: possibility of helping or preventing breast cancer; and one suggesting risk, that excessive consumption could contribute to Parkinson's-like lesions on the brain.
As with anything we ingest, a little bit of knowledge is power. Caveat emptor, and all that. Also a little bit of knowledge can ALSO be worrisome!
The juice? 25 calories and tasty. I think it was roughly .69 cents a can.
Among the varieties I got, I got the soursop. At one time in the 1990s, I was fascinated by a fruit called the custard apple (I think Aussie Moist at the time put it in their shampoos), and even managed to buy one at a high end market once. Little did I realize that soursop and custard apple are the same fruit. And out of the varieties of the nectars, it's surprisingly lowest in calories.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soursop
Reading up the wiki on it, is a fascinating read. First off, there's a Hindu & Sri Lankan myth that Lord Rama and his monkey warrior Hanuman consumed this very fruit/juice en route to Sri Lanka (to rescue Sita from Ravana). So as I cracked the can open, but before I drank up, I muttered, "Jai Bajarang Bali!" (Hail Hanuman!)
Then there are two health related tidbits... one suggesting medical merit re: possibility of helping or preventing breast cancer; and one suggesting risk, that excessive consumption could contribute to Parkinson's-like lesions on the brain.
As with anything we ingest, a little bit of knowledge is power. Caveat emptor, and all that. Also a little bit of knowledge can ALSO be worrisome!
The juice? 25 calories and tasty. I think it was roughly .69 cents a can.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Feelin' Weird
As if feeling depressed weren't enough, I have this discomfort in the lower abdomen. Can't tell if it's bowel, uterine, or related to my bypass. An uncomfortable pressure weird fullness, with occasional twinges. Weird. Noting it here so when I do my follow up, I'll have a timeline. Breathing very slow, deliberate and shallow because of the discomfort.
No vicodin was ingested today.
No vicodin was ingested today.
Not much to report at the moment.
Hurry up and wait.
Haven't weighed myself. Not sure why. Not motivated to hop on the scale and see it not change, I suppose.
Given the stress of the last two weeks, the pain of the adenomyosis, the surgery to remove the polyp, the undue drama of the Great Unfriending of 2012, and having what I consider a high speed "near miss" on the GSP yesterday (someone was changing lanes, Helen Keller style, at about 80 mph, causing me to lose control of my car, and mercifully not be injured/killed, nor injure/kill someone else). Of course, the asshole in question who caused this chaos, continued on his merry way...
And despite taking my vitamins and staying hydrated and boosting myself with extra B12, I not only feel run down, but just depressed. I don't know if it's situational, chemical, or I'm PMSing or what. But I feel horrid, feel like crying, and workplace notwithstanding, I could easily see myself sobbing at my desk.
Follow up is scheduled for 4/2; however, I might try to change it to the week before, assuming Aunt Flow is out of town by then. So I suppose by then I'll get the low down of size/location of the fibroid/polyp, find out the pathology of it; and perhaps even get a chance to discuss the weird boob twinge thing I've had for the last month or so.
I'm just spent. And tonight I feel like eating something meaty. I might run to Whole Foods for a steak and some salad from the salad bar.
Haven't weighed myself. Not sure why. Not motivated to hop on the scale and see it not change, I suppose.
Given the stress of the last two weeks, the pain of the adenomyosis, the surgery to remove the polyp, the undue drama of the Great Unfriending of 2012, and having what I consider a high speed "near miss" on the GSP yesterday (someone was changing lanes, Helen Keller style, at about 80 mph, causing me to lose control of my car, and mercifully not be injured/killed, nor injure/kill someone else). Of course, the asshole in question who caused this chaos, continued on his merry way...
And despite taking my vitamins and staying hydrated and boosting myself with extra B12, I not only feel run down, but just depressed. I don't know if it's situational, chemical, or I'm PMSing or what. But I feel horrid, feel like crying, and workplace notwithstanding, I could easily see myself sobbing at my desk.
Follow up is scheduled for 4/2; however, I might try to change it to the week before, assuming Aunt Flow is out of town by then. So I suppose by then I'll get the low down of size/location of the fibroid/polyp, find out the pathology of it; and perhaps even get a chance to discuss the weird boob twinge thing I've had for the last month or so.
I'm just spent. And tonight I feel like eating something meaty. I might run to Whole Foods for a steak and some salad from the salad bar.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Not much to report...
Had a great phone in session w/the therapist about everything from the last nearly two weeks.
Have to follow up w/the gyno next week. Goody yet another day out of the office. Anyway, will try to piggy back an appt w/the therapist on the same day if I can, and possibly score dinner in NYC w/the hubby too, thus hitting my day in the city "trifecta."
More conclusive deets next week. I'm sure there's a pathology being run on whatever they removed. I say "whatever," because really ultrasound aside, they didn't know what they were dealing with, polyp or fibroid, until they got in there and rooted around w/the hysteroscope.
Not in any real or extra pain since the procedure, tho I get a weird twingey sensation... not sure what that is.
Have to follow up w/the gyno next week. Goody yet another day out of the office. Anyway, will try to piggy back an appt w/the therapist on the same day if I can, and possibly score dinner in NYC w/the hubby too, thus hitting my day in the city "trifecta."
More conclusive deets next week. I'm sure there's a pathology being run on whatever they removed. I say "whatever," because really ultrasound aside, they didn't know what they were dealing with, polyp or fibroid, until they got in there and rooted around w/the hysteroscope.
Not in any real or extra pain since the procedure, tho I get a weird twingey sensation... not sure what that is.
So Yeah...
In a nutshell, I'm being stalked. Decided to make my blog invitation only to form yet another choke point of access (to me) for the stalker/harrasser.
EOS.
EOS.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Tuesday & Rohypnol, Perfect Together
Correction: It was propophol....
Today I go in to get the pesky polyp removed. Almost seems more bother than the 45 minute travel time, wait time in lobby, plus wait time for the rohypnol to do its thing. Procedure should be very quick, so I'm just hoping the wait isn't unbearable.
Here's hoping we can get some fried chicken for lunch to take home. Physically spent, so doing my day in the city routine is out of the question for a while.
Here's hoping that the polyp removal is enough to facilitate a positive change vis-a-vis the horrid pain.
Also worth mentioning, on another note, I contacted a custom closet business re: arranging a consultation. I want to start small, perhaps get a new pantry, then work from there.
Rome wasn't built in a day.
Today I go in to get the pesky polyp removed. Almost seems more bother than the 45 minute travel time, wait time in lobby, plus wait time for the rohypnol to do its thing. Procedure should be very quick, so I'm just hoping the wait isn't unbearable.
Here's hoping we can get some fried chicken for lunch to take home. Physically spent, so doing my day in the city routine is out of the question for a while.
Here's hoping that the polyp removal is enough to facilitate a positive change vis-a-vis the horrid pain.
Also worth mentioning, on another note, I contacted a custom closet business re: arranging a consultation. I want to start small, perhaps get a new pantry, then work from there.
Rome wasn't built in a day.
Thursday, March 08, 2012
On Being Oscar Madison
So, I emailed Felix and let him know a link to a professional organizer, and for him to inquire about cost and services.
I'm hopeful to get things organized and neat, and hopefully it'll facilitate more focus and happiness in the house.
This was my one deed for the day, to work towards health and happiness.
I'm hopeful to get things organized and neat, and hopefully it'll facilitate more focus and happiness in the house.
This was my one deed for the day, to work towards health and happiness.
Back to the Usual Drivel
Mini timeline:
2/24/12 Adenomyosis & polyp Dx.
2/26/12 Onset day.
3/13/12 Out patient polyp removal.
To do list:
Make some calls re: MSW who specializes in hoarding and reorganizing.
2/24/12 Adenomyosis & polyp Dx.
2/26/12 Onset day.
3/13/12 Out patient polyp removal.
To do list:
Make some calls re: MSW who specializes in hoarding and reorganizing.
Redux: On Life, Dharma & Pursuit of (Health and) Happiness
I don't "get" the whole "why won't she talk to me about how or why she doesn't want to talk to me anymore" bit.
Obviously, my focus is on me and my health. I don't expect most folks to understand where I'm coming from. I mean, really, who REALLY knows any of us? It's presumptuous to reduce the entirety of who someone really is (isn't it?). While I do appreciate folks who do speak their mind, and I don't much prefer folks to blow smoke up my ass, there IS something to be said about finesse, and even more to be said and appreciated about knowing when to just STFU.
A good lot of communication is equal parts listening, equal parts talking, and equal parts knowing when to just STFU. Like I said, "finesse."
So I find it amusing (or ironic, or sad, or obtuse, or grotesque, even) when after the "don't go away mad, just go away" has been uttered, that any reply is even necessary or warranted, much less a reply which pretty much marginalizes, dismisses or mocks the fact I was offended. Again, in active, actual physical pain here, emotional pain and existential pain aside. So yeah, it's intellectually lazy to vilify me for having standards of what I'm willing to tolerate in life, online or IRL.
She said what she said.
I said what I said.
We obviously are philosophically opposed to what either has said.
It's not my job to provide "home training" regarding what IS finesse exactly, and how does one actually ... FINESSE. I've got other shit to deal with.
Ultimately, the result would have been the same, whether I used my "big girl words" or not, being, one of us was going to end up being offended. So she offended me w/being so blunt, and I offended her by pulling back. And yet, the diatribes continue. The time to have been so concerned about the "slow fade" as I call it, was when I was actively pulling back, letting the situation (and her, I suppose) do the slow fade to black, into obscurity, before the Great Unfriending happened; however, no comment or acknowledgement was made during the 10 days of near radio silence.
Make no mistake, this was not passive aggression on my part. My decision to unfriend was aggressive. I thought about it for ten days. Yet, her hostile vaguely veiled status updates, which could have been about me, or someone else, who knows... passive aggressive comments left on friends' status updates, not to mention posting on a knitting site about the situation, comically playing the martyr at my expense.
This entire experience has been useful for me. Truly. Reminds me of how or why I ordinarily DO have a personal policy about not actively cultivating friendships with folks who are under the age of 30, as I think there's not much that either side can relate to the other. Very useful to know who has the sensitivity to render any adequate support. That's cool. I can manage.
I'm not even angry. It's just very matter-of-fact at this point. Similarly, I've unfriended my own family members and viewed it in the same vein as when I did DIY surgery on my own plantars wart: to remove annoyance and additional pain in the future. I have no time for anger, as it just blurs my focus.
She's not a friend if she expresses her opinion, and I express my hurt and she MOCKS me for it. That is NOT my definition a friend. That's my bottom line.
Every person is entitled to live their lives as they see fit. I try not to judge the choices of others. Live and let live. The only person I am accountable to or for, is ME. Mindful and trying to be kind, but at my core, my primary concern, my primary focus is ME.
Not every single opinion needs to be shared every second. Perhaps that's something that comes with age. I don't know. All I know is that my focus is on my health, managing my pain, possibly explore the idea of conceiving a child before it's too late, and of course, grappling with the obvious, which is totally lost on some folks: my own mortality, and the consequences of every single decision I make for the rest of the year.
I stand firm to my decision to back away and focus my energies on myself, and surround myself with folks who are truly supportive of me and what I'm going through. No sympathy ploy here. I don't need to be validated by and large by nameless, faceless folks on the internet, much less have a child dispense life advice to me, or make me feel like I am in a position where I have to justify anything about my life, my health, or my life decisions to her.
A lady always knows when it's time to leave. So I left. End of discussion.
Obviously, my focus is on me and my health. I don't expect most folks to understand where I'm coming from. I mean, really, who REALLY knows any of us? It's presumptuous to reduce the entirety of who someone really is (isn't it?). While I do appreciate folks who do speak their mind, and I don't much prefer folks to blow smoke up my ass, there IS something to be said about finesse, and even more to be said and appreciated about knowing when to just STFU.
A good lot of communication is equal parts listening, equal parts talking, and equal parts knowing when to just STFU. Like I said, "finesse."
So I find it amusing (or ironic, or sad, or obtuse, or grotesque, even) when after the "don't go away mad, just go away" has been uttered, that any reply is even necessary or warranted, much less a reply which pretty much marginalizes, dismisses or mocks the fact I was offended. Again, in active, actual physical pain here, emotional pain and existential pain aside. So yeah, it's intellectually lazy to vilify me for having standards of what I'm willing to tolerate in life, online or IRL.
She said what she said.
I said what I said.
We obviously are philosophically opposed to what either has said.
It's not my job to provide "home training" regarding what IS finesse exactly, and how does one actually ... FINESSE. I've got other shit to deal with.
Ultimately, the result would have been the same, whether I used my "big girl words" or not, being, one of us was going to end up being offended. So she offended me w/being so blunt, and I offended her by pulling back. And yet, the diatribes continue. The time to have been so concerned about the "slow fade" as I call it, was when I was actively pulling back, letting the situation (and her, I suppose) do the slow fade to black, into obscurity, before the Great Unfriending happened; however, no comment or acknowledgement was made during the 10 days of near radio silence.
Make no mistake, this was not passive aggression on my part. My decision to unfriend was aggressive. I thought about it for ten days. Yet, her hostile vaguely veiled status updates, which could have been about me, or someone else, who knows... passive aggressive comments left on friends' status updates, not to mention posting on a knitting site about the situation, comically playing the martyr at my expense.
This entire experience has been useful for me. Truly. Reminds me of how or why I ordinarily DO have a personal policy about not actively cultivating friendships with folks who are under the age of 30, as I think there's not much that either side can relate to the other. Very useful to know who has the sensitivity to render any adequate support. That's cool. I can manage.
I'm not even angry. It's just very matter-of-fact at this point. Similarly, I've unfriended my own family members and viewed it in the same vein as when I did DIY surgery on my own plantars wart: to remove annoyance and additional pain in the future. I have no time for anger, as it just blurs my focus.
She's not a friend if she expresses her opinion, and I express my hurt and she MOCKS me for it. That is NOT my definition a friend. That's my bottom line.
Every person is entitled to live their lives as they see fit. I try not to judge the choices of others. Live and let live. The only person I am accountable to or for, is ME. Mindful and trying to be kind, but at my core, my primary concern, my primary focus is ME.
Not every single opinion needs to be shared every second. Perhaps that's something that comes with age. I don't know. All I know is that my focus is on my health, managing my pain, possibly explore the idea of conceiving a child before it's too late, and of course, grappling with the obvious, which is totally lost on some folks: my own mortality, and the consequences of every single decision I make for the rest of the year.
I stand firm to my decision to back away and focus my energies on myself, and surround myself with folks who are truly supportive of me and what I'm going through. No sympathy ploy here. I don't need to be validated by and large by nameless, faceless folks on the internet, much less have a child dispense life advice to me, or make me feel like I am in a position where I have to justify anything about my life, my health, or my life decisions to her.
A lady always knows when it's time to leave. So I left. End of discussion.
Sunday, March 04, 2012
Ironic Twist
So, as I'm going thru what I'm going thru, and struggling with the grief that adenomyosis can bring, existential, fertility, and survival, my mother informs me, rather matter of factly, that my sister has changed her designation in her will. Which is to say, that should something unfortunate befall my sister and brother-in-law, I will not be the person who raises my niece.
It's just a hypothetical situation. I know. A situation tethered to the earthly demise of my sister, so I can't even be pissed off about it. Hell, it's so gauche to think of it in a logical sense, "Oh damn it, I don't get custody of my hypothetically dead sister."
But still it makes me wince a little. I might not have a kid of my own, PLUS, I won't get custody of my niece.
In an ironic twist, it makes me chuckle how all this stuff seems to be inter-related.
I know that the custody designation is in response to (and quite possibly, my punishment for) my emotional and physical pulling back from ALL family, not just my sister and my niece since my dad died in 2008. I've needed that time to regroup, deal with my grief, and (hell!), deal with all the other shit in my life, physical and emotional health.
But the reality is, granted, I have pulled back; however, if I did not text my sister or email her (of which she only replies 50% of the time, IF THAT), I'd never hear from her unless she wants something (i.e. my niece is begging/selling shit for a fund raiser for one of the many groups/activities she's in). To be honest, I don't know what I have done, beyond the pull back. And no, I don't send gifts anymore unless I'm present to present the present, because I never get an acknowledgement or a thank you (so why bother?). And I never hear from my sister or my niece. I never get a birthday card. Xmas time has been fucked in the ass for me too ("oh we're only giving gifts to the KIDS now").
Furthermore, I cannot and will not tell my sister about my situation. I never hear from her, so why would I share such a personal thing? She also has an ulcer, so why add to her stress? Also, I already have doctors, I don't need her to activate her LPN Superpowers for me. I already have the best doctors I can find working on my assorted health issues. I don't need her to be a nurse. I need her to be my sister. And sadly, she just can't do that. And yet, I am acutely aware that she bitches about me, my absence, etc, yet is too cowardly to confront me about it.
So why won't I confront her? Because I'm trying to conserve my energy FOR ME. I don't have anything else to give anyone else. And if she can't be my sister, I'd gladly just continue taking silence.
It's just a hypothetical situation. I know. A situation tethered to the earthly demise of my sister, so I can't even be pissed off about it. Hell, it's so gauche to think of it in a logical sense, "Oh damn it, I don't get custody of my hypothetically dead sister."
But still it makes me wince a little. I might not have a kid of my own, PLUS, I won't get custody of my niece.
In an ironic twist, it makes me chuckle how all this stuff seems to be inter-related.
I know that the custody designation is in response to (and quite possibly, my punishment for) my emotional and physical pulling back from ALL family, not just my sister and my niece since my dad died in 2008. I've needed that time to regroup, deal with my grief, and (hell!), deal with all the other shit in my life, physical and emotional health.
But the reality is, granted, I have pulled back; however, if I did not text my sister or email her (of which she only replies 50% of the time, IF THAT), I'd never hear from her unless she wants something (i.e. my niece is begging/selling shit for a fund raiser for one of the many groups/activities she's in). To be honest, I don't know what I have done, beyond the pull back. And no, I don't send gifts anymore unless I'm present to present the present, because I never get an acknowledgement or a thank you (so why bother?). And I never hear from my sister or my niece. I never get a birthday card. Xmas time has been fucked in the ass for me too ("oh we're only giving gifts to the KIDS now").
Furthermore, I cannot and will not tell my sister about my situation. I never hear from her, so why would I share such a personal thing? She also has an ulcer, so why add to her stress? Also, I already have doctors, I don't need her to activate her LPN Superpowers for me. I already have the best doctors I can find working on my assorted health issues. I don't need her to be a nurse. I need her to be my sister. And sadly, she just can't do that. And yet, I am acutely aware that she bitches about me, my absence, etc, yet is too cowardly to confront me about it.
So why won't I confront her? Because I'm trying to conserve my energy FOR ME. I don't have anything else to give anyone else. And if she can't be my sister, I'd gladly just continue taking silence.
Saturday, March 03, 2012
On Life, Dharma, and the Pursuit of Health & Happiness
I don't put myself out there as a Buddhist, tho I do find a lot of the philosophies practical in nature. I don't know offhand the four noble truths nor do I have the eightfold path memorized. But three things I do know are:
1. Take that which is useful (and discard the rest).
2. All life is suffering.
3. The endpoint to dharma is happiness.
So by that logic, I have come to the conclusion that your happiness does not come about by adding to the suffering of others.
Anyone who really knows me knows I have a lot on my plate physically and emotionally, AND existentially. By extension, I really don't have all that much to give others (family or friends, or worse, folks who put themselves out there as friends, but their words or actions belie otherwise). So if I must make some discards, and distance myself from things or people who are toxic in order to conserve my energies for myself and my health and well being, then so be it.
I don't have the time or energy to indulge opinionated, hostile folks who militantly reduce my whole health issues to the global overpopulation issue. Obviously, the focus of all my visits to my doctors in NYC is lost on some folks.
I don't wish you ill.
I don't wish you well.
Don't go away mad. Just go away.
1. Take that which is useful (and discard the rest).
2. All life is suffering.
3. The endpoint to dharma is happiness.
So by that logic, I have come to the conclusion that your happiness does not come about by adding to the suffering of others.
Anyone who really knows me knows I have a lot on my plate physically and emotionally, AND existentially. By extension, I really don't have all that much to give others (family or friends, or worse, folks who put themselves out there as friends, but their words or actions belie otherwise). So if I must make some discards, and distance myself from things or people who are toxic in order to conserve my energies for myself and my health and well being, then so be it.
I don't have the time or energy to indulge opinionated, hostile folks who militantly reduce my whole health issues to the global overpopulation issue. Obviously, the focus of all my visits to my doctors in NYC is lost on some folks.
I don't wish you ill.
I don't wish you well.
Don't go away mad. Just go away.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Reply From NewGyno(TM)
In regards to my concerns or interest in the artery embolization etc, and inquiring about the severity of my particular case of adenomyosis:
First off…embolization is out. Conceiving after that is not recommended. Adenomyosis, like every other entity in medicine, has varying degrees of severity. Many women with it have no issues and conceive and go through life never knowing….some can have it much worse… Treatment depends of symptoms. Again, many are not treated, some need bcps, severe cases end up needing surgery…it all depends. The severity is really related to symptoms. I’d say you have a mild case. *Note: Emphasis mine.
First off…embolization is out. Conceiving after that is not recommended. Adenomyosis, like every other entity in medicine, has varying degrees of severity. Many women with it have no issues and conceive and go through life never knowing….some can have it much worse… Treatment depends of symptoms. Again, many are not treated, some need bcps, severe cases end up needing surgery…it all depends. The severity is really related to symptoms. I’d say you have a mild case. *Note: Emphasis mine.
PCOS & Adenomyosis
Going to read up as much as I can, and of course ask my ReproEndoGuy (TM) as much as I can. I wonder about what percentage of PCOS "cysters" end up with this.
In the meantime, at least I have a good starting point for info and support. A person following me on Twitter provided this link. It is useful enough for me to ask about artery embolization.
http://www.adenomyosisadviceassociation.org
And on a related note: Not only was my sister diagnosed w/PCOS years before me and never mentioned it (so that I might, yanno, get tested and TREATED for it), she also allegedly has something "endometrial" going on, and again, no mention of it. I get diagnosed, I tell everyone to raise awareness. Keeping shit to yourself when it might help others is nothing more than a tacit fuck you, you're on your own.
In the meantime, at least I have a good starting point for info and support. A person following me on Twitter provided this link. It is useful enough for me to ask about artery embolization.
http://www.adenomyosisadviceassociation.org
And on a related note: Not only was my sister diagnosed w/PCOS years before me and never mentioned it (so that I might, yanno, get tested and TREATED for it), she also allegedly has something "endometrial" going on, and again, no mention of it. I get diagnosed, I tell everyone to raise awareness. Keeping shit to yourself when it might help others is nothing more than a tacit fuck you, you're on your own.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Crisis.
Existential.
And no, I won't just accept it. Whatever IT is. The crisis hasn't even been fully realized/actualized yet. Too much to process.
And no, I won't just accept it. Whatever IT is. The crisis hasn't even been fully realized/actualized yet. Too much to process.
Friday, February 24, 2012
A Dx. Finally.
Got the Dx. from NewGyno(tm): Adenomyosis and a polyp.
Polyp is scheduled to be removed on 3/13.
All I managed to ask today (I'm now an emotional wreck) is, "Is it life threatening?" (Answer: No; however, after I Wiki'd adenomyosis, I now have two follow up questions: 1. Will this affect my fertility? 2. At what point would hysterectomy be necessary? And I guess there's a third follow up question: 3. What percentage of women end up with endometrial or other uterine cancers as a result of this?
Polyp is scheduled to be removed on 3/13.
All I managed to ask today (I'm now an emotional wreck) is, "Is it life threatening?" (Answer: No; however, after I Wiki'd adenomyosis, I now have two follow up questions: 1. Will this affect my fertility? 2. At what point would hysterectomy be necessary? And I guess there's a third follow up question: 3. What percentage of women end up with endometrial or other uterine cancers as a result of this?
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Totally Un-related: No Poo
I've decided to attempt to go shampoo free for a while. My scalp is in agony.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Today: Yet Another Ultrasound
So today I spent my lunch hour undergoing yet another ultrasound, as the ultrasound from WTFFGyno(TM) was so colossally fucked up and poorly written NewGyno(tm) could not figure out: 1. If I even had a fibroid at all; and 2. If so, where was the location of it? So we could not even plan a course of action without these very crucial details.
So off I scampered to the imaging center, with a nearly-too-full bladder. They took me in immediately. I remember the technician from another diagnostic I had not that long ago. "Dry" and professional would be how I'd define her. I guess good qualities to have in her line of work.
She got me in and out in under 20 minutes. And when nothing conclusive showed up on the regular ultrasound, she suggested having a trans-vaginal, just to be sure.
Preliminary result: No fibroids were spotted. WTFF? So WTFFGyno(tm) scared the shit out of me, unnecessarily so, by putting the cart before the horse w/the Novasure ablation shit without even discussing if I wanted to have kids or not, when her own report was so fucking vague she didn't know conclusively if I had fibroids or not... yet she already had her mind made up as to what HER course of action for MY uterus was going to be? Just fucking infuriates me to no end.
So here I sit, waiting for NewGyno(tm) to call with the official results.
So off I scampered to the imaging center, with a nearly-too-full bladder. They took me in immediately. I remember the technician from another diagnostic I had not that long ago. "Dry" and professional would be how I'd define her. I guess good qualities to have in her line of work.
She got me in and out in under 20 minutes. And when nothing conclusive showed up on the regular ultrasound, she suggested having a trans-vaginal, just to be sure.
Preliminary result: No fibroids were spotted. WTFF? So WTFFGyno(tm) scared the shit out of me, unnecessarily so, by putting the cart before the horse w/the Novasure ablation shit without even discussing if I wanted to have kids or not, when her own report was so fucking vague she didn't know conclusively if I had fibroids or not... yet she already had her mind made up as to what HER course of action for MY uterus was going to be? Just fucking infuriates me to no end.
So here I sit, waiting for NewGyno(tm) to call with the official results.
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