I've been thinking about updating for a while now. Every time I think about it, I talk myself out of it and then forget to. Not sure why, other than I'm just lazy. Mainly lots of troubles here. I've been in tears the last few weeks over finances and the cost of all the tests and drugs I need. No insurance. No nothing. It seems my babies are being taken away from me before I even have a chance to conceive them. I will keep fighting. I must keep fighting.
Thanksgiving was a blast and a half, with my 90 year old Granny at the helm. Gotta love her and all her wit and wisdom that spans nigh a century. For Thanksgiving dinner we had a buffet with two turkeys, a spiral ham, dressing, rolls, green beans, mashed potatoes, yams, 2 chocolate pies, 1 coconut pie, 2 caramel pies, 1 pecan pie, 4 pumpkin pies, 2 bread puddings, 1 flan, 1 regular cheesecake, 1 pumpkin cheesecake, 1 pink-stuff salad and 1 Five-Flavor cake. There were far more desserts than regular food. Way to stay on Weight Watchers, there. I failed that and don't even want to know how much I gained. We had planned to head back home on Friday. Much to our dismay, the truck decided that wasn't going to happen. A leaky radiator hose and a rusted pumper-thingy chose that day to completely go kaput. Thankfully, my Daddy fixed it, but we were behind a day in our travels. At least we traveled safely.
Today, I have started taking my progesterone pills. I am hoping and praying with this timing I can make it through finals before I start cramping and ovulating for the first time in 14 years. I'm prepared, but I'm not. I know how much that mess hurts. I know how much I hurt WITHOUT ovulation. I'm not looking forward to it. I am looking forward to a cycle, though, and hopefully unsticking my hormones that are in stasis right now. I cramp constantly because my body is in a constant state of PMS. It wants to start. It just doesn't. It's frozen. Hoping there is relief in sight. Next weekend, I will start the glucophage to help get the insulin-resistance of the PCOS under control. Just wishin' and hopin' and thinkin' and prayin' this cyyyycle will staaaa-AAAart!
At any rate, just trucking along trying not to think too hard about things. "Trying" being the key word, there. I just have to be less whiny and wimpy about my malfunctioning body.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
That's The Way (Uh Huh Uh Huh) I LIKE IT
I got a phone call in the middle of my history class today. I knew what it was. The results from all the blood work done yesterday. I really couldn't wait for class to be over so I could call the nurse back to find out. The results? Pregnant: negative. Prolactin: NORMAL. Thyroid: NORMAL, right smack dab in the middle of normal. Not even borderline! Renal Function: NORMAL. Electrolyte levels: NORMAL...Such great news. I started crying on the phone, in the middle of campus. I can start my progesterone to induce the hurt-like-a-bitch period as well as the glucophage to help with the insulin resistance! I will start those after Thanksgiving so that I have the month between semesters available to travel back and forth for all the fun tests I'm going to have to have done, and the ultrasound monitoring. It's so awesome! SO SO AWESOME! I may not be fully normal right now, but seeing that those test results are all normal is a huge relief.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Period of Apocalypse
So, Tim and I went to SA yesterday for my doctor's appointment. Yesterday, Sunday, we were blessed to be able to celebrate Granny's 90th birthday. Her birthday's not technically until Thursday, but we wouldn't be in town then. Daddy took us all to Olive Garden a "fancy" place in Granny's terms. He took us there not only to get Granny in a fancy place, but to introduce us to the assistant manager of all the culinary staff...his new girlfriend. I was so happy for him. Since my parents divorced, he's dated a couple, but usually not more than one date. Now they're "going steady". I asked him if he gave her his high school ring. It's too cute.
Now on to the fun purpose of the trip: THE DOCTOR VISIT.
I don't ovulate. It seems like ever. "Just because you don't have an egg, doesn't mean there's nothing to bleed out," saith the doctor. I admit, she knows her stuff and she's willing to help. I gave her a long list of family history, a journal of everything that has happened since I went off the birth control pills, and a plea for help. She addressed most all of my questions without me even having to ask them. She had lots of blood work done, which is an adventure in and of itself because of my lovingly uncooperative blood veins. Four sticks, two in the wrist. Enough said. At any rate, she is running a pregnancy test (to free herself from liability, I'm sure. I'm not pregnant). Once I get the results of that, I will turn in my prescription for Provera to induce an honest-to-God-gonna-ovulate-for-real period. She warned me: THIS WILL HURT LIKE A BITCH. Except, she didn't use those exact words. Birth control pills just mask everything and don't really help it. I haven't had a real period in 8 years. I haven't had a progesterone induced period in 14 years. This will be the worst menstrual cycle in the history of ever for me. She told me to be prepared, and she told Tim to be nice to me. He walked into that comment when he asked, "Is there anything I can do to help her pain at all?" He tries. He really does. I couldn't have asked for a better more supportive guy. He's nervous though. We've got to test his swimmers. I'm nervous for him.
After I start my period, then I call the doc and get an appointment set up for a something-or-other. I don't remember the name of it. Basically, I get to have dye injected into my uterus and x-rayed to see if my Fallopian tubes are obstructed. Having endometriosis could possibly cause that. I hope not. Aside from that, I have other scar tissue to worry about because of the bastard who took my appendix out. He left a metal clamp that was about an inch long in my abdomen. I carried it around for five years before anyone ever figured out what the heck was wrong with me. It had taken my non-functioning uterus and literally stapled it to my bowel wall over the course of that time. Scar tissue and bile had formed all around it and was getting infected. No wonder I was in so much pain. Five years of carrying that crap around will do it. The kicker? I had had a previous surgery, a laparospcopy (the one that incidentally, diagnosed me with endometriosis), and the clamp was not detected. I'm a little pissed off. I will be absolutely angry if one of my tubes is obstructed. Livid. So, pray for me, people. I need it.
If everything goes well with Tim, and all the tests and crap I have to go through, then I will be put on Glucophage to help the insulin mess and Clomid since my family has a good clean history with that drug. The history of hypothyroidism may come into play. The doctor is definitely testing for that, because if it's a thyroid issue she wants to make sure that's taken care of, too. So now, we wait. And get a menstrual cycle of apocalyptic proportions. The worst thing the doctor had to tell me today was that I'm not going to get any better. I'm just going to get worse. Some women outgrow the hormone issues, some women get better as time goes on. This six-ish months without birth control has confirmed that I will not be getting better. My hormones are stuck in a stasis of "OH MY GOD, THERE IS PMS SYMPTOMS. I WILL MAKE YOU CRANKY FOREVER AND HUUURT. Then, nothing to show for it. I've kept a careful diary of everything since I went off the pills. They're just stuck. Stuck. Stuck. Stuck. No progesterone, no nothing. They hate me. But, the doc said she can force me to ovulate, and we will go from there. I will have my babies, then come what may, probably a full hysterectomy. I do have this to say: My babies will be so LOVED when they get here.
I am to stick with Weight Watchers at all times. She knows it's hard, she knows it's tough, she knows I'm committed. 9 weeks at WW and I've lost all of nothing. The two pounds I lost have been gained back with this pseudo-PMS crap I'm going through. It's really a royal pain in the ass. I'm trying hard, though. I'm trying so hard. Though, when I asked what a good goal weight was, she scared me. "For your size, you need to be less than 140lb." I stared at her wide-eyed and Tim looked spooked. I replied that even WW said for my height and body type I need to be in the 170-180 range. She looked confused then read my chart again. "Ooooooh, that's my mistake! You're sitting down, and I misread it. I was thinking you were only five feet tall! I forgot you're over 6'!" We got that cleared up, which was really funny. So, yeah, no ana/mia conventions for me.
Tonight, I am exhausted both physically and mentally and emotionally. I will sleep soon, and hopefully be able to fill out my prescriptions tomorrow and get this party started.
Now on to the fun purpose of the trip: THE DOCTOR VISIT.
I don't ovulate. It seems like ever. "Just because you don't have an egg, doesn't mean there's nothing to bleed out," saith the doctor. I admit, she knows her stuff and she's willing to help. I gave her a long list of family history, a journal of everything that has happened since I went off the birth control pills, and a plea for help. She addressed most all of my questions without me even having to ask them. She had lots of blood work done, which is an adventure in and of itself because of my lovingly uncooperative blood veins. Four sticks, two in the wrist. Enough said. At any rate, she is running a pregnancy test (to free herself from liability, I'm sure. I'm not pregnant). Once I get the results of that, I will turn in my prescription for Provera to induce an honest-to-God-gonna-ovulate-for-real period. She warned me: THIS WILL HURT LIKE A BITCH. Except, she didn't use those exact words. Birth control pills just mask everything and don't really help it. I haven't had a real period in 8 years. I haven't had a progesterone induced period in 14 years. This will be the worst menstrual cycle in the history of ever for me. She told me to be prepared, and she told Tim to be nice to me. He walked into that comment when he asked, "Is there anything I can do to help her pain at all?" He tries. He really does. I couldn't have asked for a better more supportive guy. He's nervous though. We've got to test his swimmers. I'm nervous for him.
After I start my period, then I call the doc and get an appointment set up for a something-or-other. I don't remember the name of it. Basically, I get to have dye injected into my uterus and x-rayed to see if my Fallopian tubes are obstructed. Having endometriosis could possibly cause that. I hope not. Aside from that, I have other scar tissue to worry about because of the bastard who took my appendix out. He left a metal clamp that was about an inch long in my abdomen. I carried it around for five years before anyone ever figured out what the heck was wrong with me. It had taken my non-functioning uterus and literally stapled it to my bowel wall over the course of that time. Scar tissue and bile had formed all around it and was getting infected. No wonder I was in so much pain. Five years of carrying that crap around will do it. The kicker? I had had a previous surgery, a laparospcopy (the one that incidentally, diagnosed me with endometriosis), and the clamp was not detected. I'm a little pissed off. I will be absolutely angry if one of my tubes is obstructed. Livid. So, pray for me, people. I need it.
If everything goes well with Tim, and all the tests and crap I have to go through, then I will be put on Glucophage to help the insulin mess and Clomid since my family has a good clean history with that drug. The history of hypothyroidism may come into play. The doctor is definitely testing for that, because if it's a thyroid issue she wants to make sure that's taken care of, too. So now, we wait. And get a menstrual cycle of apocalyptic proportions. The worst thing the doctor had to tell me today was that I'm not going to get any better. I'm just going to get worse. Some women outgrow the hormone issues, some women get better as time goes on. This six-ish months without birth control has confirmed that I will not be getting better. My hormones are stuck in a stasis of "OH MY GOD, THERE IS PMS SYMPTOMS. I WILL MAKE YOU CRANKY FOREVER AND HUUURT. Then, nothing to show for it. I've kept a careful diary of everything since I went off the pills. They're just stuck. Stuck. Stuck. Stuck. No progesterone, no nothing. They hate me. But, the doc said she can force me to ovulate, and we will go from there. I will have my babies, then come what may, probably a full hysterectomy. I do have this to say: My babies will be so LOVED when they get here.
I am to stick with Weight Watchers at all times. She knows it's hard, she knows it's tough, she knows I'm committed. 9 weeks at WW and I've lost all of nothing. The two pounds I lost have been gained back with this pseudo-PMS crap I'm going through. It's really a royal pain in the ass. I'm trying hard, though. I'm trying so hard. Though, when I asked what a good goal weight was, she scared me. "For your size, you need to be less than 140lb." I stared at her wide-eyed and Tim looked spooked. I replied that even WW said for my height and body type I need to be in the 170-180 range. She looked confused then read my chart again. "Ooooooh, that's my mistake! You're sitting down, and I misread it. I was thinking you were only five feet tall! I forgot you're over 6'!" We got that cleared up, which was really funny. So, yeah, no ana/mia conventions for me.
Tonight, I am exhausted both physically and mentally and emotionally. I will sleep soon, and hopefully be able to fill out my prescriptions tomorrow and get this party started.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Why, yes, I DID just shove all my french fries into my milkshake.
And I ate it all with my fingers, because there wasn't a spoon handy and I didn't care one bit.
The past few days have been rough. I've been cramping like I haven't cramped in, well, 8 years. Sure, they were bad when I had the medically induced trick-your-body periods brought on by the birth control pills. These, though, are the first honest-to-God cramps I've had in 8 years that have come naturally. It's not fun. And I'm a hormonal train wreck. Poor Tim. Very poor Tim. He's been a saint like you wouldn't believe. Still no actual menstruation, which is incredibly frustrating considering everything. Conveniently, this happens right before I go to the doctor on Monday to discuss all the various mutations my body has decided to come up with.
Today was particularly rough. My cousin's wife (they got married less than a month ago) wrote me a message on the all-powerful and all-knowing Facebook to tell me she is pregnant. She didn't know how far along she was, but yay she's having a baby. I'm thrilled for them. I really am. I'm also bummed for myself and cried. I knew she was pregnant when I saw her at the wedding rehearsal. The joys of having "psychic" super-powers. I can pick up on pregnancies even before a pregnancy test will. Would be great if I could reliably market my lucrative skill-set to infertile women during the infamously trying Two Week Wait. Except, I can't. And I wouldn't. She says she's due in August. That would put her at, like, all of three days pregnant. She's closer to 5 weeks by my guesstimation. She'll have that kid by the end of June, definitely before the end of July. My other cousin's (this one's brother) wife is due in January. I'm a little more excited for them. Both this guy and his wife are mature enough to handle the new kid. Granted, there are two step-children involved, but still...the recently married pair make me uneasy around kids. I could be completely wrong. I really could. Maybe they will grow up in the next several months. This unease and apprehension really doesn't stem out of jealousy. I am jealous, but I don't wish them harm. I just wish I weren't broken. I'm praying that come Monday, there will be definite steps in the right direction for me. I want little ones. My own little ones. All of this coupled with hormones I haven't dealt with in large quantities since I was about 19 years old was a little much for me to bear. I broke down sobbing.
Thankfully, Tim is such a great husband and my crazy dogs are such great dogs. I mean, my Great Dane is even keeping my spot on the bed warm for me! How sweet is that? (Do you sense sarcasm? I don't...not at all). I am glad for them and their crazy and goofy antics full of pure and unadulterated unconditional love.
Long drive tomorrow to be in the town where my doctor is, I've hurt for three days steady. It is time for bed. Tchus.
The past few days have been rough. I've been cramping like I haven't cramped in, well, 8 years. Sure, they were bad when I had the medically induced trick-your-body periods brought on by the birth control pills. These, though, are the first honest-to-God cramps I've had in 8 years that have come naturally. It's not fun. And I'm a hormonal train wreck. Poor Tim. Very poor Tim. He's been a saint like you wouldn't believe. Still no actual menstruation, which is incredibly frustrating considering everything. Conveniently, this happens right before I go to the doctor on Monday to discuss all the various mutations my body has decided to come up with.
Today was particularly rough. My cousin's wife (they got married less than a month ago) wrote me a message on the all-powerful and all-knowing Facebook to tell me she is pregnant. She didn't know how far along she was, but yay she's having a baby. I'm thrilled for them. I really am. I'm also bummed for myself and cried. I knew she was pregnant when I saw her at the wedding rehearsal. The joys of having "psychic" super-powers. I can pick up on pregnancies even before a pregnancy test will. Would be great if I could reliably market my lucrative skill-set to infertile women during the infamously trying Two Week Wait. Except, I can't. And I wouldn't. She says she's due in August. That would put her at, like, all of three days pregnant. She's closer to 5 weeks by my guesstimation. She'll have that kid by the end of June, definitely before the end of July. My other cousin's (this one's brother) wife is due in January. I'm a little more excited for them. Both this guy and his wife are mature enough to handle the new kid. Granted, there are two step-children involved, but still...the recently married pair make me uneasy around kids. I could be completely wrong. I really could. Maybe they will grow up in the next several months. This unease and apprehension really doesn't stem out of jealousy. I am jealous, but I don't wish them harm. I just wish I weren't broken. I'm praying that come Monday, there will be definite steps in the right direction for me. I want little ones. My own little ones. All of this coupled with hormones I haven't dealt with in large quantities since I was about 19 years old was a little much for me to bear. I broke down sobbing.
Thankfully, Tim is such a great husband and my crazy dogs are such great dogs. I mean, my Great Dane is even keeping my spot on the bed warm for me! How sweet is that? (Do you sense sarcasm? I don't...not at all). I am glad for them and their crazy and goofy antics full of pure and unadulterated unconditional love.
Long drive tomorrow to be in the town where my doctor is, I've hurt for three days steady. It is time for bed. Tchus.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Water, water everywhere...
and nary a drop to drink.
Sometimes, that's how I feel. Coleridge knew. Drowning in life. That really should never be a phrase anyone utters. Yesterday wasn't a great day. The day started spiraling downward when we discussed, in depth, Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). Growing up in a household where my mother suffered from this disease was not easy. She was never officially diagnosed with it, and still isn't. In fact, we never knew what it was until a few years ago, which brought some closure--albeit the memories were not erased, with the gaining of knowledge about it. I have memories that I thought were repressed become triggered by certain phrases or words or actions, or even weird deja vu instances. The class talking about the symptoms and signs and physical manifestations were too much for me to handle yesterday. I thought I'd had a fairly decent grip on it, but apparently not. I came home in tears. Thankfully, I have a pretty awesome husband who understands and tried to comfort me as best he could.
Already being in a down mood because of class, I started thinking about all the negative crap about my girlie issues, and how much of them might have been prevented had my mother seemed to actually care about it. I got angry. I got mad. I was livid. I cried some more. I got more depressed because of finances and the upcoming doctor visit. Because of what I might have to be prescribed and what I might have to take as far as medicines go. Not being able to afford it. Having my babies taken from my grasp before they are even placed in it because of the expense of fertility medicines, monthly prescriptions, doctor visits...and no insurance. No nothing. I cried myself to sleep last night. I cried in my sleep. I'm fighting off tears now. I have to keep fighting and keep trucking. Keep doing my part and keep believing that God will do his part. So, I'm trying to cheer up. Anyone got any ideas on how to cheer up and be happy? I'm thinking of going to make a cheesecake. That may happen tomorrow, because I have a psychology test tomorrow I must study for. But I still have plans for cheesecake making. Ah the sweet joys of baking as a stress reliever. Expensive hobby, but I thankfully already have all the ingredients on hand. I must ponder what to actually make for dinner tonight. I'm not sure.
Sometimes, that's how I feel. Coleridge knew. Drowning in life. That really should never be a phrase anyone utters. Yesterday wasn't a great day. The day started spiraling downward when we discussed, in depth, Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). Growing up in a household where my mother suffered from this disease was not easy. She was never officially diagnosed with it, and still isn't. In fact, we never knew what it was until a few years ago, which brought some closure--albeit the memories were not erased, with the gaining of knowledge about it. I have memories that I thought were repressed become triggered by certain phrases or words or actions, or even weird deja vu instances. The class talking about the symptoms and signs and physical manifestations were too much for me to handle yesterday. I thought I'd had a fairly decent grip on it, but apparently not. I came home in tears. Thankfully, I have a pretty awesome husband who understands and tried to comfort me as best he could.
Already being in a down mood because of class, I started thinking about all the negative crap about my girlie issues, and how much of them might have been prevented had my mother seemed to actually care about it. I got angry. I got mad. I was livid. I cried some more. I got more depressed because of finances and the upcoming doctor visit. Because of what I might have to be prescribed and what I might have to take as far as medicines go. Not being able to afford it. Having my babies taken from my grasp before they are even placed in it because of the expense of fertility medicines, monthly prescriptions, doctor visits...and no insurance. No nothing. I cried myself to sleep last night. I cried in my sleep. I'm fighting off tears now. I have to keep fighting and keep trucking. Keep doing my part and keep believing that God will do his part. So, I'm trying to cheer up. Anyone got any ideas on how to cheer up and be happy? I'm thinking of going to make a cheesecake. That may happen tomorrow, because I have a psychology test tomorrow I must study for. But I still have plans for cheesecake making. Ah the sweet joys of baking as a stress reliever. Expensive hobby, but I thankfully already have all the ingredients on hand. I must ponder what to actually make for dinner tonight. I'm not sure.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star...
How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky...
It's been a while since I updated. Been busy, or apathetic, you choose. I don't care which. In the time since I last wrote in this thingy, I've been to a wedding (yay!), taken midterms (un-yay), and written a biology lap report (also, un-yay). I've been trucking along on my weight-loss journey, getting even more frustrated. PCOS is not an easy disease to deal with, physically and emotionally. It slows down weight loss horrendously. In the 7-8 weeks I've been on Weight Watchers, I've lost a grand total of 3 pounds. On average (don't you love that phrase? I don't), most people who stick to the program have lost at least 3 times that amount, if not more. I can't fault WW for that; they're helping--in tiny increments. Which is still a minor victory, even though it feels like I'm wading through quicksand. Sometimes, I get hopeful. My friend joined WW this weekend, and I went to a Saturday meeting with her to get her started. She's the type who won't go by herself, bless her heart. So, I went, and she's all happy I'm going with her. I don't think she realizes how happy I am I'm going with someone. Someone who can help me and I can help, someone who (hopefully) will poke me and prod me into doing what it is I need to do. Currently, we walk three times per week together with another lady. So, at least I'm up and moving. I'm trying to think what I can do in the meantime, on the days we don't walk. It's not like I don't have enough to do with school work, but schoolwork is not very active. I'm thinking. I'm really hoping my friend sticks with this, not only to help her, but to help me, too. I'm a little bit selfish.
School for next semester promises to be very busy. 15 hours I'm scheduled for at this point. I may try to rearrange some of that in the next few days. I'm classified now as a junior, which is wonderful, because I thought I was still in the freshman/sophomore camp. After this semester, I will have ~50 hours left to complete a degree. Then, with much luck, I will be on to graduate school! Whee! I shall be scholarly and smart and stuff. Maybe not articulate, but at least it will be written on paper that I'm "smart".
I'm both anxious and eager about next week. I go to the doctor for a much anticipated appointment. She told me to go off my birth control pills in June, which I did. I have not had a period since then. She wanted to see what my body would do on its own, with no aid, for at least three months before my appointment. Well, I have a list. A big list. A list that we shall discuss in depth. I'm paying out-of-pocket for these expensive visits, so I'm definitely going to get my money's worth. She's also the type of doctor who cares what you have to say, listens to what you tell her, then makes educated decisions based on her knowledge and what you have told her. She's pretty awesome. I know that she's given hope, and even babies, to many many women with issues like PCOS and endometriosis (I have, coincidentally, been diagnosed with both pains-in-the-ass. A rarity). I have dangerous hope that she can help me.
I'm killing time before I take my Akbash Dog, Tetris, to obedience class at Petsmart. She needs it, as she is the most stubborn dog I have ever had the privilege to own. 'Tis their breed. Currently all my goobers are snoring and cuddled up in various places in this room. Rydia's on her bed. Cu Sidhe's on my bed with her daddy, and Tetris is at my feet, lying on top of them. Spoiled rotten creatures. If nothing else, I have my furbabies, as lovable and frustrating as they can be. I wouldn't have them any other way, except maybe a little more well-behaved. We're working on that. They're still spoiled though, despite the fact they tell everyone that I starve them and beat them. They're starting to have enough rolls to look like their mama.
Time to kill about 45 more minutes until it's time for Tetris and me to get the heck out of Dodge. Leave some comment love so that I feel validated in my rants and whines and declarations. I know, it's all psychological. But, psychological validation is important, right? Right.
It's been a while since I updated. Been busy, or apathetic, you choose. I don't care which. In the time since I last wrote in this thingy, I've been to a wedding (yay!), taken midterms (un-yay), and written a biology lap report (also, un-yay). I've been trucking along on my weight-loss journey, getting even more frustrated. PCOS is not an easy disease to deal with, physically and emotionally. It slows down weight loss horrendously. In the 7-8 weeks I've been on Weight Watchers, I've lost a grand total of 3 pounds. On average (don't you love that phrase? I don't), most people who stick to the program have lost at least 3 times that amount, if not more. I can't fault WW for that; they're helping--in tiny increments. Which is still a minor victory, even though it feels like I'm wading through quicksand. Sometimes, I get hopeful. My friend joined WW this weekend, and I went to a Saturday meeting with her to get her started. She's the type who won't go by herself, bless her heart. So, I went, and she's all happy I'm going with her. I don't think she realizes how happy I am I'm going with someone. Someone who can help me and I can help, someone who (hopefully) will poke me and prod me into doing what it is I need to do. Currently, we walk three times per week together with another lady. So, at least I'm up and moving. I'm trying to think what I can do in the meantime, on the days we don't walk. It's not like I don't have enough to do with school work, but schoolwork is not very active. I'm thinking. I'm really hoping my friend sticks with this, not only to help her, but to help me, too. I'm a little bit selfish.
School for next semester promises to be very busy. 15 hours I'm scheduled for at this point. I may try to rearrange some of that in the next few days. I'm classified now as a junior, which is wonderful, because I thought I was still in the freshman/sophomore camp. After this semester, I will have ~50 hours left to complete a degree. Then, with much luck, I will be on to graduate school! Whee! I shall be scholarly and smart and stuff. Maybe not articulate, but at least it will be written on paper that I'm "smart".
I'm both anxious and eager about next week. I go to the doctor for a much anticipated appointment. She told me to go off my birth control pills in June, which I did. I have not had a period since then. She wanted to see what my body would do on its own, with no aid, for at least three months before my appointment. Well, I have a list. A big list. A list that we shall discuss in depth. I'm paying out-of-pocket for these expensive visits, so I'm definitely going to get my money's worth. She's also the type of doctor who cares what you have to say, listens to what you tell her, then makes educated decisions based on her knowledge and what you have told her. She's pretty awesome. I know that she's given hope, and even babies, to many many women with issues like PCOS and endometriosis (I have, coincidentally, been diagnosed with both pains-in-the-ass. A rarity). I have dangerous hope that she can help me.
I'm killing time before I take my Akbash Dog, Tetris, to obedience class at Petsmart. She needs it, as she is the most stubborn dog I have ever had the privilege to own. 'Tis their breed. Currently all my goobers are snoring and cuddled up in various places in this room. Rydia's on her bed. Cu Sidhe's on my bed with her daddy, and Tetris is at my feet, lying on top of them. Spoiled rotten creatures. If nothing else, I have my furbabies, as lovable and frustrating as they can be. I wouldn't have them any other way, except maybe a little more well-behaved. We're working on that. They're still spoiled though, despite the fact they tell everyone that I starve them and beat them. They're starting to have enough rolls to look like their mama.
Time to kill about 45 more minutes until it's time for Tetris and me to get the heck out of Dodge. Leave some comment love so that I feel validated in my rants and whines and declarations. I know, it's all psychological. But, psychological validation is important, right? Right.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Smoosh
I managed to sleep through my WW meeting...and my classes today. I'm worn out exhausted. I spent several hours last night making candy for the niece-unit's birthday party this weekend. One which I will miss. I'm traveling from one end of the state to the other tomorrow. Today, I'm just going part of the way. Tomorrow, the full journey begins, with Sunday bringing all of it. It's for a good reason. My cousin is getting married this weekend, and Granny is going. Granny will have both of her kids and all five of her grandkids together in one spot. That is something that has not happened in a very very long time. Many years. Definitely getting pictures of that. For now, I shall pack up and out and migrate across the state. I am feeling regretful about not going to the meeting or weigh-in today. Kinda. I really wanted the sleep, but I also wanted to weigh. Ah well. Next week!
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Welcome to the Jungle...
I've got some Guns'n'Roses playing in my head. This week was rough, and as usual, I was expecting a gain on the scale today at the WW meeting. I had an ovarian cyst rupture, which creates havoc and a half on my body. Hormones go haywire, I retain water like mad, I crave everything under the sun to eat, I physically can't stand up straight--let alone exercise, and I am sore like Hades from the moment it happens until at least a week after. This happened Monday afternoon while I was shopping with my mother-in-law. I was helping her do something in the dressing room when BAM! Instant pain. I doubled over and almost knocked the poor woman over. She's like 5'0" and I'm 6'2". Good thing she moved just in time. I also have a zit on my eyebrow. I know, it's not nearly as annoying as a cyst rupturing.
Regardless of all that mess, I managed to still lose 0.2 lb. That's impressive considering I couldn't stand for nigh a week, and therefore could not cook. Tim bought fast food for us...every night. Perhaps the walking to and from the parking lot at school helped some. I managed to get my butt up and go to school all week. The fact I had two tests this week had nothing to do with that...at all. Right. The White Album is that much closer to my grasp. I still have to set money aside for it, but I'm getting there.
I'm in the mood for a geeky night. Thankfully, it's Thursday, which is my normal geek-night. Tim and I play a tabletop roleplaying game (think along the lines of Dungeons and Dragons, for the lesser-informed) with some friends via IRC. We don't play D&D, but rather we're playing a sci-fi game called Starcluster 3. My character is an otter uplift who is adorably awesome at being a thief. I also want to watch The Sound of Music while playing. It may be accomplished.
Regardless of all that mess, I managed to still lose 0.2 lb. That's impressive considering I couldn't stand for nigh a week, and therefore could not cook. Tim bought fast food for us...every night. Perhaps the walking to and from the parking lot at school helped some. I managed to get my butt up and go to school all week. The fact I had two tests this week had nothing to do with that...at all. Right. The White Album is that much closer to my grasp. I still have to set money aside for it, but I'm getting there.
I'm in the mood for a geeky night. Thankfully, it's Thursday, which is my normal geek-night. Tim and I play a tabletop roleplaying game (think along the lines of Dungeons and Dragons, for the lesser-informed) with some friends via IRC. We don't play D&D, but rather we're playing a sci-fi game called Starcluster 3. My character is an otter uplift who is adorably awesome at being a thief. I also want to watch The Sound of Music while playing. It may be accomplished.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
moo.
I lost two pounds this week! Yay! I have decided that when I lose ten pounds, I shall reward myself with The White Album. This is one I surprisingly don't have on CD. I love The Beatles. Anyway, yeah. Ten pounds = The White Album.
Now, I have a problem. A really big one. My dog Tetris, an Akbash Dog, does not get along with my Great Dane. She gets along with EVERY OTHER DOG EVER. It has come to the point that I am about to get rid of her, despite how heartbreaking it will be for my husband and me, and her. Her breed bonds with one family, and usually for life. They're meant to work out in the fields with sheep and bond with the flock and guard them. Excellent guard dogs. Stubborn as all hell. She got to be aggressive with the Dane when she was about 3 months old, over food. She was the runt of the litter, never got food, was rescued by a friend and bottle fed until I got her and took over. So she's been with me FOREVER. We have tried everything that we can think of, and that we can feasibly afford, to get her over this aggression toward the Dane. It's gotten to the point that it's no longer about food. Hasn't been for a while. Anytime one walks past the other, Tetris will growl. If the Dane is a little excited and comes to greet us when we get home, like all three of our dogs do, then Tetris will jump her...forcefully. Usually, the Dane doesn't fight back because she's the Downe's Syndrome baby of our trio of special ed dogs. In that, I am not being facetious or insulting. Cu Sidhe (Dane) exhibits the characteristics of a Downe's Syndrome person. She's as sweet as can be, wants to have fun, loving and caring and protective. Doesn't get insulted or get her feelings hurt. Just a big goober of a dog. Tetris is our Asperger's kid. Apparently the two don't mix? I don't know. After tonight's fight, I told hubby she has to go, but it broke his heart so much...he loves dogs, as do I. I had to keep from crying. So, tomorrow, we are going to Petsmart with Tetris to get a double-leash and a muzzle. I have read that if you walk the two dogs together, and pay attention to the "dominant" one first, then they will get the idea. Eventually. We're gonna try. Try so hard to get through to the idiot dog. She's not stupid by any means. She's very intelligent. I'm hoping with the muzzle, the exercise, and the very strong attempts that she will get the picture. I don't want to send her away, because I love her and I'm afraid she won't bond well with another family. The pound is NOT an option. I don't want her to die.
Now, I have a problem. A really big one. My dog Tetris, an Akbash Dog, does not get along with my Great Dane. She gets along with EVERY OTHER DOG EVER. It has come to the point that I am about to get rid of her, despite how heartbreaking it will be for my husband and me, and her. Her breed bonds with one family, and usually for life. They're meant to work out in the fields with sheep and bond with the flock and guard them. Excellent guard dogs. Stubborn as all hell. She got to be aggressive with the Dane when she was about 3 months old, over food. She was the runt of the litter, never got food, was rescued by a friend and bottle fed until I got her and took over. So she's been with me FOREVER. We have tried everything that we can think of, and that we can feasibly afford, to get her over this aggression toward the Dane. It's gotten to the point that it's no longer about food. Hasn't been for a while. Anytime one walks past the other, Tetris will growl. If the Dane is a little excited and comes to greet us when we get home, like all three of our dogs do, then Tetris will jump her...forcefully. Usually, the Dane doesn't fight back because she's the Downe's Syndrome baby of our trio of special ed dogs. In that, I am not being facetious or insulting. Cu Sidhe (Dane) exhibits the characteristics of a Downe's Syndrome person. She's as sweet as can be, wants to have fun, loving and caring and protective. Doesn't get insulted or get her feelings hurt. Just a big goober of a dog. Tetris is our Asperger's kid. Apparently the two don't mix? I don't know. After tonight's fight, I told hubby she has to go, but it broke his heart so much...he loves dogs, as do I. I had to keep from crying. So, tomorrow, we are going to Petsmart with Tetris to get a double-leash and a muzzle. I have read that if you walk the two dogs together, and pay attention to the "dominant" one first, then they will get the idea. Eventually. We're gonna try. Try so hard to get through to the idiot dog. She's not stupid by any means. She's very intelligent. I'm hoping with the muzzle, the exercise, and the very strong attempts that she will get the picture. I don't want to send her away, because I love her and I'm afraid she won't bond well with another family. The pound is NOT an option. I don't want her to die.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Find that Vein!
Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! Tonight's episode of "Find that Vein" will be brought to you tonight from an ambulance and an emergency room. Tonight's contestants consist of 6 EMTs and an ER nurse. All male. After 5 attempts by the EMTs they decided that they were wasting too much time and needed to get me to the emergency room before I passed out from lack of oxygen. The ER nurse got a vein in two sticks. Including the epinephrine I gave myself, the Benadryl shot the EMTs gave me, the extra epinephrine the EMTs gave me, and all the sticks attempting to find a vein, I had 11 needles in me last night. All because of popcorn.
So, I was sitting innocently paying attention to my biology lab professor when someone decided to pop some popcorn outside the classroom. So, a night in the ER was had. Poor husband was way across town at a friend's house with no car to get to me. My father-in-law picked me up from school. Got home. Their car was out of gas at that point, then the ambulance came--much to the amusement of the rubbernecking neighbors. Sparing the details, things were not fun Tuesday night. If I thought my husband was the mother-hen type before all this, he has definitely been promoted to Granny-hen. I can't really blame him there; the poor guy was a nervous wreck. How'd you like to get the phone call from your mother saying that she's shipping your wife off in an ambulance? Not fun. Add to that no readily available transportation to get to the hospital to see your wife. Yeah. Fun. It's a good thing I just smelled the corn and didn't ingest it. Things could have turned out a lot differently. A LOT differently. 2 years ago, almost to the exact date, I had an anaphylactic hospital experience in which I accidentally ate a lump of corn starch that I thought was cheese. That one was way worse than this one, but this one was still bad. I was hoping I was done with the anaphylaxis. I've been so careful. It sucks when everyone wants to go see a movie and I can't go to the theater, or something cool is on sale at Target but I can't go there because they pop as much popcorn as the movie theaters do. I cry on the inside.
I acquired a doctor's note that I will take to the disabilities office at school tomorrow. I expect a great fight to ensue, because people don't like to accommodate allergies. Especially ones as dire as this. But, with the doctor's note, it is illegal for them not to accommodate it. So, they better. And they better do something serious to anyone who violates it. I'm getting really really tired of this BS.
Tomorrow is my weigh-in day. I'm not looking forward to it. Despite the fact I had an awesome time at Granny's things were less than ideal at the table. I didn't eat much, but what I did cost me a lot of points. A bad week. I will stand up, brush myself off, hold my head high (maybe) and march forward.
So, I was sitting innocently paying attention to my biology lab professor when someone decided to pop some popcorn outside the classroom. So, a night in the ER was had. Poor husband was way across town at a friend's house with no car to get to me. My father-in-law picked me up from school. Got home. Their car was out of gas at that point, then the ambulance came--much to the amusement of the rubbernecking neighbors. Sparing the details, things were not fun Tuesday night. If I thought my husband was the mother-hen type before all this, he has definitely been promoted to Granny-hen. I can't really blame him there; the poor guy was a nervous wreck. How'd you like to get the phone call from your mother saying that she's shipping your wife off in an ambulance? Not fun. Add to that no readily available transportation to get to the hospital to see your wife. Yeah. Fun. It's a good thing I just smelled the corn and didn't ingest it. Things could have turned out a lot differently. A LOT differently. 2 years ago, almost to the exact date, I had an anaphylactic hospital experience in which I accidentally ate a lump of corn starch that I thought was cheese. That one was way worse than this one, but this one was still bad. I was hoping I was done with the anaphylaxis. I've been so careful. It sucks when everyone wants to go see a movie and I can't go to the theater, or something cool is on sale at Target but I can't go there because they pop as much popcorn as the movie theaters do. I cry on the inside.
I acquired a doctor's note that I will take to the disabilities office at school tomorrow. I expect a great fight to ensue, because people don't like to accommodate allergies. Especially ones as dire as this. But, with the doctor's note, it is illegal for them not to accommodate it. So, they better. And they better do something serious to anyone who violates it. I'm getting really really tired of this BS.
Tomorrow is my weigh-in day. I'm not looking forward to it. Despite the fact I had an awesome time at Granny's things were less than ideal at the table. I didn't eat much, but what I did cost me a lot of points. A bad week. I will stand up, brush myself off, hold my head high (maybe) and march forward.
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