If you've never heard of SparkPeople, you're missing out. It is a TOTALLY free fitness and nutrition website. had a free food tracker and fitness tracker as well as tools to track any number of other goals. It also has an AMAZING community of "teams" for every interest and hobby and group under the sun. If you've ever struggled with being healthy or losing weight or getting more active, this is a FANTASTIC site to use. Go check it out, and if you sign up, tell 'em Mousemarie sent you. mmkay?
Having said that they have personal websites and blogs. An acquaintance of mine on the site asked today where I've been hiding. I answered her and then wanted to also blog to share my most recent thoughts. Halfway through the blog it ended up going well beyond my food struggles etc. And I deecided to share it here too. So .... here ya go.
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I have been debating for a week or two if I should intentionally and directly cut back my spark involvement. You know, as opposed to the unintentional, ignoring it I am currently doing. Like going in and changing around my teams and actually writing down that I am pulling back etc.
why?
Because I haven't seen ANY result worth mentioning in like a year or more. I fluctuate with 5 pounds, which wouldn't be so horrible if I didn't have 50 to lose to begin with!
Sometimes I feel like I have so much going on in my mind, work and business and thoughts about safety and security and economy and budget and cooking and tv and friends and parents and sister and blogging and facebook and twitter and and and ... spark just seems to fade towards the bottom of the list. You all demand almost nothing at all from me. Which is simultaneously a blessing and a curse. On the sweet hand there is the knowledge that I can focus my energy and attention elsewhere for awhile. On the sour hand is the knowledge that you could be FANTASTICALLY helpful to me if I *did* what I know I ought.
I put up a blog earlier this week about what a slob I am. And I've watched enough tv talk shows and read enough books to recognize that there is some level of mental reflection in the state of my house. The most interesting thing to me was to actually look up the definitions of the words I started out the blog with. Slob, Sloth and my most favorite indolent. Indolent is defined as "inclination to laziness." At the most basic core, THAT is my problem. I am laziness epitomized. I would rather sit here and stare at the computer screen for HOURS than leave this chair. Especially on a Saturday morning. There are very few things that *move* me on a Saturday morning. Cawfee. bathroom. tv or a good book. or the headache I end up with when I *insist* on staying in bed too long. And today is an absolutely BEAUTIFUL day out. My computer tells me it is 68 (it was 59 like 10 minutes ago, I swear!) the sun is shining there is a lovely breeze. And still I sit here, wallowing in my own filth (I haven't showered yet), staring out the window at the children playing in the yard across the street and listening to the planes from the air show on the other side of town go by.
Can I justify this by explaining that I had a rough week. That by taking my Saturday morning into early afternoons to laze around and do as little as possible I mentally and emotionally re-set so that I can tolerate another sunday amid families and couples (which can be difficult regardless of how much these people love me, truly) to re-set before facing another week of work at a place that doesn't seem to appreciate me on any level nor respect my individuality or personality and what those two things bring specifically to my job. re-set so that I don't have a mental breakdown on Weds afternoon for no apparent reason. Can I justify all this by also telling you that twice this week I went on fairly long bike rides after work. That I am planning on going for a walk with a good friend later today when she gets here. And, that, possibly, I may go on another long bike ride this afternoon after she leaves.
Is that sufficient justification?
On the sweet hand I think it ought to be. I have blogged this week. I have worked in spite of a hard-blow reprimand. I have done business this week. I have loved friends and family this week. I have done a few things to take care of my *self* this week. But on the sour hand I also have eaten a LOT of crap this week. I have put tons of sugar into every cup of coffee. I have had too many sweets, some that I didn't even actually *want* I have sat around and felt sorry for myself rather than DOING something. I have ignored the desires of my heart in favor of CSI:NY.
I am realizing more and more these days that I am quite fearful. that would surprise a lot of people who know me in real life. But I am. I'm not even sure I can or want to share those fears because my friend should be on her way shortly and I still need to shower. And, more importantly, I think it would make me cry. But I fear staying fat because I fear that may result in being alone forever. I fear being alone because I assume that a partner's presence would lend me more security. I fear *working* for myself because what if I fail? I fear taking truly *good* care of myself because what if it doesn't work anyway? what have I accomplished then?
I have no answers. Someone here had asked where I've been hiding and I decided to pop a quick blog up to let y'all know I was still around. And, now, this feels like some of my better writing, so I'm going to copy it into my regular blog and add it there too.
For now, I'm going to go shower so I won't be RANK when my friend gets here.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
slob or sloth or both
according to Merriam Webster a slob is defined as: : a slovenly or boorish person. Slovenly is defined as: a: untidy especially in personal appearance and b: lazily slipshod and Sloven as a noun is: one habitually negligent of neatness or cleanliness especially in personal appearance. Possibly more pertinent is the definition of sloth: disinclination to action or labor : indolence b: spiritual apathy and inactivity (the deadly sin of sloth). For those of you still amused at my continual word definition indolence is defined as: inclination to laziness. I'm thinking I shoulda changed the title of this blog.
I'm too lazy.
I am. I am a slob. I am a dirty nasty pig. I seldom 'clean' my living space and only haphazardly tidy up the myriad of bags and piles and stuff that continually accumulate. In fact, as a 'bonding' experience my mom comes over to clean every few months. I tidy up first, and before you get all upset for no apparent reason since it technically has nothing whatsoever to do with YOU, she only does the stuff she wants to and every single time comes to my home and informs me that she "will not do the tub!" To which I have begun to reply "I've never cleaned my tub, why would YOU?" Which is half joke ... I have cleaned my tub ... twice maybe ... I dunno.
I realize at this point I probably should be more than a little ashamed to admit all this out on the Internet for anyone to see and where potential suitors could read it. But, hey, this is me. This is who i am today. I usually envision some pint at which I'll have my crap together and I'll have all these fantastic systems for keeping things tidy and neat and in order. But at the end of the day, I am absolutely chock full to overflowing out of my ears with indolence. I am! I would rather sit here and play meaningless games on facebook (anyone else hooked on MouseHunt???) than to actually be a productive member of my household. And, for the record, I am the only member of my household, so this does not bode particularly well for my countertops or dirty dishes.
In fact, I have gone so far as to devise a barter system in my mind for any future husband. They are tasks I consider to be fairly equal on some level which I will happily trade off duties. For example: I will do all the laundry if you clean the bathroom. (Nearing a level of gross here ... but I am not the one leaving the mess on that toilet ... YOU clean it up.) Also, I will vacuum if you will dust. Mostly because I don't mind vacuuming and kind of am compulsive about how one vacuums, whereas dusting is one of the single most pointless activities I can imagine. And I refuse to move things around to dust under and behind them ... thus clearly showing a line to anyone looking where my motivation starts and stops. Lastly, and my most favorite, if you're friends with me on facebook you won't be surprised by this one. I will cook every single meal for the rest of our lives if YOU WILL DO ALL THE DISHES ... FOREVER. Deal?? Message me and we'll talk details like the ring and white dress etc.
In the meantime I am surrounded by two sizable piles of papers. One is just receipts, but still sizable. Plus a pile of papers on the drawer next to me which should all be filed in my SUPER SIMPLE system I devised a couple of years ago and have never managed to keep up on. In another room there is a pile of clothes I have worn once but don' consider dirty. So I lay them out to 'air' out so I can wear them again another day. In the kitchen are the canned goods I just brought home which will probably stay there until ... Saturday? Tuesday? Who's to say. Don't get me started on the shoe rack.
And what am I going to do? I'm going to go watch a movie. After I set up my coffee and get some nesquik and a snack. They had nesquik at Aldi's ... I KNOW!!! Movie nite, here I come!!
p.s. I gotta say sloths are really kinda freakin ugly. It took me like 10 minutes to find the picture of this one that didn't give me the heebeejeebees.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Taken - the movie
((sigh))
Where to start? they say at the beginning, but that is somewhere shortly after creation and the fall from the Garden of Eden. I don't have the time, inclination, education or megabytes to write all of that.
What I can tell you is that Taken, again, brought to the forefront of my mind an issue that I can't seem to get away from. An issue, that once it took hold in my heart and mind and soul and spirit, I don't want to get away from. An issue that baffles me that more people aren't talking about. Something that I truly have a difficult time fathoming that it even still exists.
Human Trafficking.
more specifically, the Sex Slave Trade.
Taken is about a man who worked for his government for many years as a 'preventer' as he tells his daughter eventually. He retires in order to try to build a relationship with her after years of absence and disappointment. As in many many fractured relationships the attempt seems too little too late. Which to begin with is quite sad. Something that happens in far too many relationships, sadly.
Through a bit of lying and a touch of emotional blackmail the daughter, and her mother, convince the dad to agree to let her go to Paris for a trip. It's never truly clear how long they'll be gone but it's a week or two at least. In his former life as a 'preventer' he knows just exactly the possibilities the world could hold for his beautiful and innocent daughter. He at first says no and then gives in, with some conditions. Conditions that end up being useless because to begin with his daughter doesn't follow them and then once she has started to follow them she is kidnapped and doesn't really have the opportunity to follow them.
She is kidnapped by an illegal immigrant ring in Paris who have found that kidnapping tourists is cheaper than conning women from eastern europe to travel with them so they can be forced into trafficking after they've arrived in western europe. A kidnapping ring that now specializes in the sex trade. A kidnapping ring that provides the 'best' girls for private auctions to wealthy foreign men. A kidnapping ring that, clearly, has absolutely no belief in humanity.
Throughout the movie, one man, the father, is the only man who seems to care that these are girls, these are daughters and mothers and sisters and friends! The french police are even extorting the kidnappers ring to allow them to continue their business in Paris. One man even goes so far as to say, explicitly "I have a daughter too. This wasn't personal. This was just business, it was just business!" To which the father replies, quite aptly, "It was all personal to me!" and shoots him.
The thing that truly gets me about this, is that so many people in our world are
either unaware or absolutely, unequivocally apathetic about this whole issue.
How can you be apathetic that millions of women and children are forced to work against their will every single day, many of them doing sex acts we wouldn't even read about in a book much less do, with multiple partners every flipping hour?!?!!!
I don't understand how you can hear that and not want to put your fist through a wall. How you can hear that and not want to simply cry for all the women that are stuck in that hell right now, all the women who don't have a father with those skills or a family with the resources or anyone at all to even attempt to save them from that torture. And, honestly, I don't think torture is a strong enough word, but I can't think straight through the red haze in my mind to find a better one.
I think it's easy for us to sit here in the midwest and pretend it doesn't touch us. Pretend it doesn't have anything to do with me. Pretend it will never happen to me or anyone I know. So I can breathe easy tonight and sleepy soundly and know that me and mine are safe.
What if I told you that I can almost guarantee there is at least one woman being held against her will within 100 mile radius of where you are sitting right this moment? What would you do then? Would you pay more attention at the store? Would you pay more attention to your neighbors? Would you listen more carefully at night when you hear those weird noises your neighbors make every once in awhile?
More importantly, would you be willing to put your neck on the line to do something about it?? I'll be honest, I'd like to be able to say that I would. But if I heard noises that didn't sound right, would I actually do anything at all? I'd like to hope that if I noticed an unusual amount of visitors at all hours of the day and night at a house in my neighborhood, that I would call someone. I don't know. I'd like to hope that if I saw a woman at the grocery store that just didn't seem 'right' like she didn't know where she was or what she was doing or seemed overly scared or something, that I would ask if I could help her or if she was ok. But we all know that it's easier not to do anything at all, and to walk away and pray that the person is ok. That God would make it ok. But what if YOU were the answer to prayer for that woman, and now her tomorrow won't be any more ok than today was??
We talk about domestic violence, and that is a horrible thing as well, I won't even begin to think about arguing with that for a second. But the only reason we are having that conversation is because someone we know has been hit. Someone we know watched their mom get hit. Someone we know has died at the hands of someone in their own household. When it is someone you know, it changes things. When it is your friend being hit, it changes. When it is your brother in law doing the hitting, it changes. When it is you pleading with someone to leave for their own safety, it changes.
How much worse does trafficking have to get before it hits close enough to
home for it to change??
does it have to be your daughter?
does it have to be your friend?
does it have to be your child?
At what point do we decide that enough is enough!! That ignorant, greedy, selfish men with no appreciation for the inherent human value of a female person do not get to win!! That they can be brought down daily, by people like us?
I know what you're thinking, if you're still reading. It's the same thing I thought.
What can I do??
First of all, talk. Be willing to have the conversation and be willing to be the first to bring it up. Next, support causes that are already fighting this fight. There are causes that provide jobs and extraction options to women caught in trafficking. There are causes that raise awareness and lobby for changing laws. Then, pray. Pray about how you can make a difference. Pray that those organizations that are already working on this be fully funded and then some. Pray that the organizations have excellent staff and wise and Godly counsel. Pray that the staff have a supernatural hedge of protection around them every time they step into this particular lions den.
Lastly, and this one comes from my own heart. Refuse to allow women to be degraded or treated as objects in any way in any place that you live, work, play, function or breathe. Refuse to let people tell you that trafficking has always been and it will always be. Refuse to let people tell you that there is nothing you can do. Beat the ever living snot out of any man that you ever find out has visited a prostitute, EVER. (You can let him live because I don't want a murder rap coming back at me, but i'm just suggesting it.) Smack a guy around if you find out he's watching porn. Take the magazine and give him a few smacks, like you would a dog, if the magazine shows more skin than you'd like to see in church. And punch a man, as hard as you can, wearing every ring that you own, if he so much as hints that trafficking should EVER be legalized, in any form or fashion. Slap any man who has the audacity to tell a joke that honestly compares a woman to an object or an animal or objectifies her as nothing more than a tool to be used by men for sexual release.
Yes, that is incredibly extreme. Yes it is violent. Sure, violence begets more violence, or so they say. But at the end of the day, a new set of laws will not stop the men who perpetuate this abomination!! The only thing that will ever truly make a difference is for women and men (yes, MEN) to stand up and say NO MORE. This is not only illegal and immoral, it is a scourge on the 21st century!
I truly believe that trafficking at its worst all begins when little boys are told that mommy's 'job' is to keep daddy happy or to keep the house clean. When young men are given magazines full of impossible images and told to 'be a man.' When college boys decide that a woman being passed out is close enough to consent to do as they wish. When men of any age decide to pay for release or affection rather than work to create something real with another human being they consider equal to themselves.
Will you help? or will you label me a fanatic? or will you throw up your hands in defeat and concede victory before we've even begun? Will you allow those hundreds and thousands of little girls to be victimized over and over today? or will you do your little part in your little corner to say NO, it ends, NOW, Here, forever.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
I happen to like 8-year-old boys
There is an episode of friends where Joey and Chandler (and maybe the girls) make fun of Ross for the way that he flirts. He decides to *prove* to them that he can get any girl he wants, and uses the pizza delivery girl for his first test. His opening "line" is to tell her that he happens to like 8-year-old boys. Earlier she had mentioned she'd gotten a haircut and felt like it looked like an 8-year-old boys cut. Clearly, this is, in fact, not a good way to get a girl to like you. Suffice it to say that the whole interaction goes downhill from there.
I explain this story to say, I don't flirt. I'm not good at it. If I realize I'm doing it I would be likely to say things like Ross would say. So, I just don't. I tell people this. They don't believe me. Tonight, I have case in point.
Went to a wedding reception tonight for a family friend who is my age who I have known forever. It was 1030, I was tired from dancing and I do want to go to church tomorrow morning. I needed to get home to go to bed. As I was walking out of the building I saw "dad-figure" guy I know so I stepped over to say good night to him. There was a younger man standing next to dad-figure. I chatted dad-figure up a bit and told him a joke and he asked if my parents were still inside. I said yeah and started to tell him a story which included a mention of my mom sneaking out between the ceremony and reception to go to church. dad-figure asked if she was praying for my dad (her husband). I told him no, she was probably praying for me! He asked what for and I told him that she thinks I need a good man. dad-figure asks me something about it and I answer that they're hard to come by, or something to that effect. (as i type this out i realize this part of our conversation is a bit hazy) Now comes the important part ... are you paying attention?? younger-guy interjects and the conversation looks like this
YG 'what are you looking for??' in a quizzical tone.
me 'well, he's gotta be a church guy.'
YG 'and what else?'
me 'he's gotta make me laugh.'
YG (something like) 'it's hard to find a guy to make you laugh?'
me 'a church guy, around here, harder than you'd think!'
and dad-figure is talking to me again and i'm all distracted there chatting with him. And, being who I am, I start another story to do with my mom and church or something. A family walks out of the building and dad-figure starts talking to them, mid-way through a sentence of mine. Now I have finally gotten to a point where I don't take this personally, and I don't stand around waitingwaitingwaiting to finish my story. I simply move on to the next thing in my world and realize that maybe my story wasn't interesting or funny enough or maybe he was too many sheets to the wind to really appreciate it anyway.
So, I just give up and start walking away to my car. Smiling to myself because I've known dad-figure forever also and that's just how he is, and I'm tired and want to get my sweats on. Now, again, are you paying attention, 'cause here is the truly important thing for you to notice. As I'm walking away, a good 3-5 yards from dad-figure and young-guy, the young guy calls "Ma'am?" kinda loudly, so I turn to see if he's talking to me if I dropped something or who he's talking to. There is no other "ma'am" anywhere in the vicinity so I answer him "Yeah?" To which he says 'It was nice to meet you.' I think, remember that hazy recollection earlier, that I said 'yeah, you too!' and kept right on walking. Smiling, but clearly walking away.
As I'm driving home I'm pondering how amusing and interesting it would be to have met someone special right there. And what a hard road he could potentially have trying to get in touch with me. My parents are in there, but he'd have to have been hit pretty deep by cupid's arrow to go to them right away. There are a number of people who know exactly who I am, but I don't think ANY of them know my number or how else to get ahold of me. One of them is a friend on facebook, so she might be able to get us in touch. But, to find her or get someone else to find me and get him contact info, would take some serious work and effort on his part. Now, to be honest, that is absolutely perfectly wonderfully fine for me, if he's gotta get through a few hoops to even ask me out. Also, I fully realize that it is entirely possible he was just curious, possibly a tad tipsy, possibly he has a mental disorder that makes it impossible for him to not ask questions that occur to him at the exact moment they do occur to him. I dunno. I just drove home amused by the whole thing.
Now, here is the reason I told you this whole Ross-flirting story. I get home, get some chai tea ready, get my pj's on, and get ready to wash my face and suddenly, it dawns on me ...
I explain this story to say, I don't flirt. I'm not good at it. If I realize I'm doing it I would be likely to say things like Ross would say. So, I just don't. I tell people this. They don't believe me. Tonight, I have case in point.
Went to a wedding reception tonight for a family friend who is my age who I have known forever. It was 1030, I was tired from dancing and I do want to go to church tomorrow morning. I needed to get home to go to bed. As I was walking out of the building I saw "dad-figure" guy I know so I stepped over to say good night to him. There was a younger man standing next to dad-figure. I chatted dad-figure up a bit and told him a joke and he asked if my parents were still inside. I said yeah and started to tell him a story which included a mention of my mom sneaking out between the ceremony and reception to go to church. dad-figure asked if she was praying for my dad (her husband). I told him no, she was probably praying for me! He asked what for and I told him that she thinks I need a good man. dad-figure asks me something about it and I answer that they're hard to come by, or something to that effect. (as i type this out i realize this part of our conversation is a bit hazy) Now comes the important part ... are you paying attention?? younger-guy interjects and the conversation looks like this
YG 'what are you looking for??' in a quizzical tone.
me 'well, he's gotta be a church guy.'
YG 'and what else?'
me 'he's gotta make me laugh.'
YG (something like) 'it's hard to find a guy to make you laugh?'
me 'a church guy, around here, harder than you'd think!'
and dad-figure is talking to me again and i'm all distracted there chatting with him. And, being who I am, I start another story to do with my mom and church or something. A family walks out of the building and dad-figure starts talking to them, mid-way through a sentence of mine. Now I have finally gotten to a point where I don't take this personally, and I don't stand around waitingwaitingwaiting to finish my story. I simply move on to the next thing in my world and realize that maybe my story wasn't interesting or funny enough or maybe he was too many sheets to the wind to really appreciate it anyway.
So, I just give up and start walking away to my car. Smiling to myself because I've known dad-figure forever also and that's just how he is, and I'm tired and want to get my sweats on. Now, again, are you paying attention, 'cause here is the truly important thing for you to notice. As I'm walking away, a good 3-5 yards from dad-figure and young-guy, the young guy calls "Ma'am?" kinda loudly, so I turn to see if he's talking to me if I dropped something or who he's talking to. There is no other "ma'am" anywhere in the vicinity so I answer him "Yeah?" To which he says 'It was nice to meet you.' I think, remember that hazy recollection earlier, that I said 'yeah, you too!' and kept right on walking. Smiling, but clearly walking away.
As I'm driving home I'm pondering how amusing and interesting it would be to have met someone special right there. And what a hard road he could potentially have trying to get in touch with me. My parents are in there, but he'd have to have been hit pretty deep by cupid's arrow to go to them right away. There are a number of people who know exactly who I am, but I don't think ANY of them know my number or how else to get ahold of me. One of them is a friend on facebook, so she might be able to get us in touch. But, to find her or get someone else to find me and get him contact info, would take some serious work and effort on his part. Now, to be honest, that is absolutely perfectly wonderfully fine for me, if he's gotta get through a few hoops to even ask me out. Also, I fully realize that it is entirely possible he was just curious, possibly a tad tipsy, possibly he has a mental disorder that makes it impossible for him to not ask questions that occur to him at the exact moment they do occur to him. I dunno. I just drove home amused by the whole thing.
Now, here is the reason I told you this whole Ross-flirting story. I get home, get some chai tea ready, get my pj's on, and get ready to wash my face and suddenly, it dawns on me ...
I should have introduced myself!!!
Either when we first started chatting with dad-figure or especially after he called out halfway across the parking lot just to say it was nice to meet me!! d'oh!! I am so incredibly oblivious sometimes!! Then I wonder if it appeared I was 'running' away or anything, would that deter him, will he talk to anyone inside, etc etc etc. Also, I should have elaborated more during the first whole conversation!!
And all the while I realize a few things. 1) If I was truly so compelling from the start, then my walking away shouldn't deter him all that much from trying to figure out who I am and how to get a hold of me. 2) If he isn't truly interested, then my walking away is to my benefit. 3) I am ridiculous and over think the vast majority of things going on around me. but at least 4) they make amusing fodder for my blog and for you to read.
All in all, this birthday wasn't bad at all. I never dreamt that 31 would actually be harder than 30 but somehow 31 feels older. I feel like I qualify for a different 'group' or something. Like I couldn't date a 28 year old anymore or something. Which is a bizarre thing to think. But, like I said, all in all this has ended pretty well. And there haven't even been presents yet!!! Presents will come tomorrow.
And all the while I realize a few things. 1) If I was truly so compelling from the start, then my walking away shouldn't deter him all that much from trying to figure out who I am and how to get a hold of me. 2) If he isn't truly interested, then my walking away is to my benefit. 3) I am ridiculous and over think the vast majority of things going on around me. but at least 4) they make amusing fodder for my blog and for you to read.
All in all, this birthday wasn't bad at all. I never dreamt that 31 would actually be harder than 30 but somehow 31 feels older. I feel like I qualify for a different 'group' or something. Like I couldn't date a 28 year old anymore or something. Which is a bizarre thing to think. But, like I said, all in all this has ended pretty well. And there haven't even been presents yet!!! Presents will come tomorrow.
Cover band
sorta.
i read a few blogs regularly. I have a few artists that I love, always. And I have a few albums/songs by artists that I love, but not everything the artist has done. So far i'm on the fence for Shawn Mcdonald. But, these two girls!! Oh my. Lovely. After last night's post I needed a little reminder. So, let's see if I can't get it to embed right here. I've had problems with that in the past.
i read a few blogs regularly. I have a few artists that I love, always. And I have a few albums/songs by artists that I love, but not everything the artist has done. So far i'm on the fence for Shawn Mcdonald. But, these two girls!! Oh my. Lovely. After last night's post I needed a little reminder. So, let's see if I can't get it to embed right here. I've had problems with that in the past.
I think it worked!!! Yay!!!
got sleep?
I don't. I struggle with insomnia. Not true, full-blown, I literally haven't slept for days, kind of insomnia. Just that I have a hell of a time falling asleep, I almost never sleep through the entire night without waking and never ever want to get out of bed in the morning. Ever.
I recognize that in large part this is due to the simple fact that I have not built good habits around bedtime. The time itself is always different. They say not to, but I was putting in a movie to fall asleep to. Because, for me, it worked. I have tinnitus (constant, and I mean constant ear ringing) and the low noise of the movie helps distract me from that long enough to fall asleep. I tried tea for the umpteenth time a few weeks back, and I just plain don't care for tea. I know that I can take benadryl and it'll knock me out, but I absolutely despise the idea of being dependent on a drug to fall asleep! I also, however, recognize that using benadryl for a time to build a "sleeping at a decent time" habit could be highly beneficial.
The thing about all this is that ultimately it makes me a Crab. I never fully realized what it meant to Be Irritable or to Be Cranky until the last year or so. My coworkers have come to recognize that they need to tread softly around me in the morning and gauge what kind of night it might have been. On the one hand this is nice of them as well as self-preserving for them. On the other hand I do recognize they really shouldn't have to do that.
I used to think I was cranky ... I have no idea what I thought cranky was, but I am so far beyond any reasonable definition I had in my twenties (gawd that phrase alone is enough to make me cry in my nachos) that I seriously don't know how I would have defined it. Now I can define it much better. to Be Irritable is to feel like every single annoyance, no matter how small is nails on a chalkboard for an extended period of time. Literally, the small annoyance of hearing the fan squeak makes me want to smash it. People driving at normal speeds or with reasonable caution, but who are otherwise in my way I want to scream at, and often do.
Two things about this frustrate me the most. First that, intellectually, I am certain that I ought to be able to simply 'fix' it and be fine. Ultimately it is me. I ought to be able to fix myself so that I don't have to be the Wicked Witch for days on end. Intellectually I recognize that I should have been in bed 2 hours ago. I should have come home, settled my stuff and done my routine and gone to bed. In my defense 1) this is Friday and 2) tomorrow is my birthday. The problem is that I give myself excuses most days. Two days this week i gave myself excuses. Two days this week I simply did not sleep well and therefore didn't catch up any sleep I'd missed. (Don't post comments about 'you can't catch up on sleep' I know for myself I can, a bit)
Second, I believe that as a Christian woman who believes deeply in the power of God that I ought to be able to control this irritability and not be rude and ignorant to people and let my mouth have it's head so to speak and absolutely kill any kind of witness I could otherwise offer. In my heart and my spirit I know I ought to be able to. But that's the problem with sleep-deprivation. I have no reserve. I have no cushion. I have no room, no breath, no space. I can't tolerate your stupidity for one more minute because I didn't rebuild my patience by sleeping well last night so my brain could function at full capacity. And yes, that falls on me, but, today, I need to turn my back so that you can't see me roll my eyes again at your stupidity and ignorance and annoying interruption of my already overcrowded day. I am fully ... fully aware that my tongue is downright out of control. I have no doubts or delusions about this. But with the incredible lack of sleep I end up with by Fridays I simply don't care. I just don't. Maybe that sounds bad, but I just don't. I don't have enough energy to care. I'm using up all my energy breathing and functioning and being productive and not ripping your head off for looking at me cross-eyed.
The most upsetting result of all this is the emotional breakdown. I read a blog tonight and started crying. To be perfectly honest, I've shed a few tears already tonight. And to continue that honesty, I will likely cry myself to sleep. And tomorrow's my birthday. In fact, that may end up being a fair portion of why I'm crying. This life I have, wonderful as it is in the vast majority of respects, is not what I expected or asked for. It is so far from where I thought I'd be 6 years ago that I don't recognize it, and I no longer recognize that girl that had those dreams. And I am forced to wonder, not for the first time, if some of those dreams are pipe dreams, never to be had. Yes, I'm talking about relationships, but I'm also talking about the little things. A laptop, for example. It's such a small, simple, (in the grand scheme of the world) little thing; and, not in any way necessary to my living or breathing or functioning. However, I've been dreaming of having one for a year or two now, and something always seems to come up. It feels like that with so many things and I'm just tired of wishing for things that always feel inches (and miles) beyond my reach.
And, yes, I fully realize I am overwrought and overtaxed. I am overtired and overweight. I am ... me. I am what I am, and His grace to me has not been without effect. Never seems to be the effect I would have wished for, but it has had significant effects. I am irrational, I know that. But rational is beyond me right now. Well beyond me. Maybe I'll find some tomorrow. Hopefully I'll find some tomorrow, or else I'll end up crying myself to sleep at the end of my birthday and not just at the beginning.
I recognize that in large part this is due to the simple fact that I have not built good habits around bedtime. The time itself is always different. They say not to, but I was putting in a movie to fall asleep to. Because, for me, it worked. I have tinnitus (constant, and I mean constant ear ringing) and the low noise of the movie helps distract me from that long enough to fall asleep. I tried tea for the umpteenth time a few weeks back, and I just plain don't care for tea. I know that I can take benadryl and it'll knock me out, but I absolutely despise the idea of being dependent on a drug to fall asleep! I also, however, recognize that using benadryl for a time to build a "sleeping at a decent time" habit could be highly beneficial.
The thing about all this is that ultimately it makes me a Crab. I never fully realized what it meant to Be Irritable or to Be Cranky until the last year or so. My coworkers have come to recognize that they need to tread softly around me in the morning and gauge what kind of night it might have been. On the one hand this is nice of them as well as self-preserving for them. On the other hand I do recognize they really shouldn't have to do that.
I used to think I was cranky ... I have no idea what I thought cranky was, but I am so far beyond any reasonable definition I had in my twenties (gawd that phrase alone is enough to make me cry in my nachos) that I seriously don't know how I would have defined it. Now I can define it much better. to Be Irritable is to feel like every single annoyance, no matter how small is nails on a chalkboard for an extended period of time. Literally, the small annoyance of hearing the fan squeak makes me want to smash it. People driving at normal speeds or with reasonable caution, but who are otherwise in my way I want to scream at, and often do.
Two things about this frustrate me the most. First that, intellectually, I am certain that I ought to be able to simply 'fix' it and be fine. Ultimately it is me. I ought to be able to fix myself so that I don't have to be the Wicked Witch for days on end. Intellectually I recognize that I should have been in bed 2 hours ago. I should have come home, settled my stuff and done my routine and gone to bed. In my defense 1) this is Friday and 2) tomorrow is my birthday. The problem is that I give myself excuses most days. Two days this week i gave myself excuses. Two days this week I simply did not sleep well and therefore didn't catch up any sleep I'd missed. (Don't post comments about 'you can't catch up on sleep' I know for myself I can, a bit)
Second, I believe that as a Christian woman who believes deeply in the power of God that I ought to be able to control this irritability and not be rude and ignorant to people and let my mouth have it's head so to speak and absolutely kill any kind of witness I could otherwise offer. In my heart and my spirit I know I ought to be able to. But that's the problem with sleep-deprivation. I have no reserve. I have no cushion. I have no room, no breath, no space. I can't tolerate your stupidity for one more minute because I didn't rebuild my patience by sleeping well last night so my brain could function at full capacity. And yes, that falls on me, but, today, I need to turn my back so that you can't see me roll my eyes again at your stupidity and ignorance and annoying interruption of my already overcrowded day. I am fully ... fully aware that my tongue is downright out of control. I have no doubts or delusions about this. But with the incredible lack of sleep I end up with by Fridays I simply don't care. I just don't. Maybe that sounds bad, but I just don't. I don't have enough energy to care. I'm using up all my energy breathing and functioning and being productive and not ripping your head off for looking at me cross-eyed.
The most upsetting result of all this is the emotional breakdown. I read a blog tonight and started crying. To be perfectly honest, I've shed a few tears already tonight. And to continue that honesty, I will likely cry myself to sleep. And tomorrow's my birthday. In fact, that may end up being a fair portion of why I'm crying. This life I have, wonderful as it is in the vast majority of respects, is not what I expected or asked for. It is so far from where I thought I'd be 6 years ago that I don't recognize it, and I no longer recognize that girl that had those dreams. And I am forced to wonder, not for the first time, if some of those dreams are pipe dreams, never to be had. Yes, I'm talking about relationships, but I'm also talking about the little things. A laptop, for example. It's such a small, simple, (in the grand scheme of the world) little thing; and, not in any way necessary to my living or breathing or functioning. However, I've been dreaming of having one for a year or two now, and something always seems to come up. It feels like that with so many things and I'm just tired of wishing for things that always feel inches (and miles) beyond my reach.
And, yes, I fully realize I am overwrought and overtaxed. I am overtired and overweight. I am ... me. I am what I am, and His grace to me has not been without effect. Never seems to be the effect I would have wished for, but it has had significant effects. I am irrational, I know that. But rational is beyond me right now. Well beyond me. Maybe I'll find some tomorrow. Hopefully I'll find some tomorrow, or else I'll end up crying myself to sleep at the end of my birthday and not just at the beginning.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Love the ones you've got
You may or may not be aware, but there is a Christian music artist named Steven Curtis Chapman. Almost a year ago his adopted daughter, Maria, was tragically killed in an accident. He went on Larry King and has done a few other shows along with his family. They have been an inspiration and comfort to many.
What has fallen by the wayside a bit, in my opinion, is the awareness of their continued struggle to cope and understand and live without her in their lives. His wife, Mary Beth, blogs, the way most of us blog. A little tidbit here, a little newsy post there and interspersed is usually some mention of her ongoing feeling of loss since Maria is no longer in the pictures and sharing the fun. She also posts her new understandings and the things God is teaching her and how she is coping or if she's coping. She posted something just this week about her soon to be daughter in laws bridal tea. She mentions in there that Maria's birthday is coming up to be followed shortly by the 1st anniversary of Maria's death. She says:
And I reiterate that. Strongly! Go, right now, and give them a kiss and a hug and tell them how much you love them. Share with the people you care for how much you do care for them and what their presence means to you. It has become so cliche, but we truly have no idea how long we have with each of these people. I have a number of friends who drive fair distances every day, and even on a short distance trip, any number of tragic things are possible and could take that person from you life forever. Never have any doubt that your loved ones know your feelings. So, I'm going to take a moment here, in print, to name names.
Kelly - I love you. You are so so dear to me and you get me in ways no one else does.
Charity - You are my oldest friend, and you will always hold a dear and special place in my heart. You hold my history.
Allison - you are the sweetest and sincerest person I know. Your simple outlook on life is an inspiration. Also your ability to seemingly not worry ever is too.
Kathy B - your honesty makes me laugh, regularly. Your hugs give me fuel to continue walking my path. Your shared confusion over my continued singleness gives me comfort.
Kari - you accept me in a way that I have seldom felt accepted. You expect little from me and never expect a change in behavior or character.
Mary - your willingness to schedule and share and enjoy anything and everything with me give me another friend to call sister.
Michelle - our shared history and shared struggles mean you, also, get me in another set of ways that few others do. Your acceptance of me, ability to make me laugh, and shared desire to be a lotta bit silly and sometimes ridiculous helps me remember that 30 is not that old!
(I'm sure there are many who are missing and some who wish I'd said about you what I said about the other girl. Drop that sentiment and wrap your arms around yourself and give you a hug from me, and remind yourself that you are loved by a crazy girl in WI)
Amy - I think it makes you nervous to be mentioned here, and if you'd like I will promise to never mention you again (just ask), but I would be deeply remiss if I neglected to express how deeply my heart overflows for you. We share a kind of history that cannot be duplicated anywhere else, no matter what happens in this life with anyone. ever. I sometimes think I'm eloquent, and then I try to express to you just how much I love you and I suddenly can't find the right words that won't sound hokey or contrived. You are a beautiful girl. You are strong and independent. You are unwilling to bow to any number of pressures in this world. And you face your struggle with stamina and courage, and a strength I'm not sure even I possess. And you do it all stoically. Often, seemingly, alone. I sometimes wish you would let me/us in, but even as I type that I realize there are struggles that I, myself, won't allow anyone else into, why should you, my sister, be any different? You are who you are, life has led you to this place, and you lead your life with a dignity and grace seldom seen. My life would truly be lacking if you were somehow gone from it. And it is richer and fuller for your presence.
Mom & Dad - you know I love you. You know how much. After that paragraph for Amy, I'm kinda spent. If you're not sure, ask me on Thursday, I'll be over for Survivor by 7.
What has fallen by the wayside a bit, in my opinion, is the awareness of their continued struggle to cope and understand and live without her in their lives. His wife, Mary Beth, blogs, the way most of us blog. A little tidbit here, a little newsy post there and interspersed is usually some mention of her ongoing feeling of loss since Maria is no longer in the pictures and sharing the fun. She also posts her new understandings and the things God is teaching her and how she is coping or if she's coping. She posted something just this week about her soon to be daughter in laws bridal tea. She mentions in there that Maria's birthday is coming up to be followed shortly by the 1st anniversary of Maria's death. She says:
Hug your kids tighter.
And I reiterate that. Strongly! Go, right now, and give them a kiss and a hug and tell them how much you love them. Share with the people you care for how much you do care for them and what their presence means to you. It has become so cliche, but we truly have no idea how long we have with each of these people. I have a number of friends who drive fair distances every day, and even on a short distance trip, any number of tragic things are possible and could take that person from you life forever. Never have any doubt that your loved ones know your feelings. So, I'm going to take a moment here, in print, to name names.
Kelly - I love you. You are so so dear to me and you get me in ways no one else does.
Charity - You are my oldest friend, and you will always hold a dear and special place in my heart. You hold my history.
Allison - you are the sweetest and sincerest person I know. Your simple outlook on life is an inspiration. Also your ability to seemingly not worry ever is too.
Kathy B - your honesty makes me laugh, regularly. Your hugs give me fuel to continue walking my path. Your shared confusion over my continued singleness gives me comfort.
Kari - you accept me in a way that I have seldom felt accepted. You expect little from me and never expect a change in behavior or character.
Mary - your willingness to schedule and share and enjoy anything and everything with me give me another friend to call sister.
Michelle - our shared history and shared struggles mean you, also, get me in another set of ways that few others do. Your acceptance of me, ability to make me laugh, and shared desire to be a lotta bit silly and sometimes ridiculous helps me remember that 30 is not that old!
(I'm sure there are many who are missing and some who wish I'd said about you what I said about the other girl. Drop that sentiment and wrap your arms around yourself and give you a hug from me, and remind yourself that you are loved by a crazy girl in WI)
Amy - I think it makes you nervous to be mentioned here, and if you'd like I will promise to never mention you again (just ask), but I would be deeply remiss if I neglected to express how deeply my heart overflows for you. We share a kind of history that cannot be duplicated anywhere else, no matter what happens in this life with anyone. ever. I sometimes think I'm eloquent, and then I try to express to you just how much I love you and I suddenly can't find the right words that won't sound hokey or contrived. You are a beautiful girl. You are strong and independent. You are unwilling to bow to any number of pressures in this world. And you face your struggle with stamina and courage, and a strength I'm not sure even I possess. And you do it all stoically. Often, seemingly, alone. I sometimes wish you would let me/us in, but even as I type that I realize there are struggles that I, myself, won't allow anyone else into, why should you, my sister, be any different? You are who you are, life has led you to this place, and you lead your life with a dignity and grace seldom seen. My life would truly be lacking if you were somehow gone from it. And it is richer and fuller for your presence.
Mom & Dad - you know I love you. You know how much. After that paragraph for Amy, I'm kinda spent. If you're not sure, ask me on Thursday, I'll be over for Survivor by 7.
Hug your kids tighter.
Monday, May 4, 2009
The Gallbladder Quest - and more
(advance warning, this is incredibly way longer than I thought it would be, but it is after all a quest)
Last September I went to do a L'Bri skincare party and had a glass of milk on my way out as 'supper' because I ran out of time to actually eat anything. By the time the party was over I had so much gurgling and bloating in my digestive track that I felt bad for the hostess. I may have even apologized for my gas. Yes, it was that bad.
As a result, I started noticing that I would have a similar reaction to all milk. I then began removing all milk and dairy products from my diet. Slowly but surely, in small conservative steps removing more and more and more and more.
Milk.
Cheese.
Pseudo-cheesy items.
Anything cream based.
Until at last, I was reading warning labels and refusing to consume anything that had a milk warning on it.
Do you know how many things have milk warnings on them?!?!
Do you!!
A lot. It is incredibly difficult to not consume anything with any form of dairy product in it. Further proof that I would never make it as a vegan.
I missed my cheese.
And my chocolate milk.
And my chocolate cupcakes.
And my peanut butter M&Ms.
And my pizza!!!
and my cheese!
But, alas, if this is what it took to feel 'normal' then so be it. I could handle that. In case you aren't sure, I had self-diagnosed lactose intolerance. However, mine sometimes made me puke, like BAD. So I did some research and found that other countries have diagnosed a form of lactose intolerance that acts more like an allergy in which your body perceives the dairy to be a foreign body and attacks it, thus expelling it as quickly as possible. And I found, that if I realized that was happening early enough and emptied my stomach of said 'foreign bodies' as quickly and completely as possible, I felt just fine within a half an hour.
I was resigned to this life. I was resigned to a life with no milk and no cheese and no chocolate and no pudding and no cream cheese and no pizza and no lots of things. C'est la vie I told myself. A friend's son has cancer, there are MUCH worse things I could be fighting right now. This is easy to fix. I can't eat dairy. No problem. Fewer options to make good choices from, maybe now I could finally start losing weight!
Then one day in February, I went to Burger King for lunch. I was seriously craving Onion Rings. But Onion Rings do not a lunch make. So I added French Fries, because no matter how much you want to argue with me, I will hold firm to my stance that BK Fries are the BEST FRIES IN THE WORLD. But I couldn't just eat carbs and fried carbs at that for lunch! I had to have some form of protein ... CHICKEN TENDERS!! I know I'm ridiculous, that's why you love me. I consumed a fair amount of each on my lunch hour and went back to work. And spent the most physically uncomfortable afternoon at my desk that I have ever had. Just this rock in my gut all afternoon. It didn't go away until about 10 that night. And that night I was telling my lovely friend Knower of All Things Digestive about this discomfort and she asked me the obvious,
To which I responded, Of course, last month they were in there poking around and checked it for me. Now if you're not aware, I am not one of those people who goes to the doctor for every little thing. I barely go for the big things. I had friends telling me for months to go to the doctor cause I couldn't seem to get the lactose intolerance under control. I kept saying "Why pay my $250 deductible to have a doctor say 'try avoiding dairy products and come back in a month' when I could do that myself. Until I had a concrete thing for him to look for then I wasn't going to go in. I was ok. I was pretty dang good most of the time in fact. But my Knower of All Things Digestive brings up this gallbladder concern and then tells me that two of her friends thought they were also lactose intolerant only to figure out the true culprit was their gallbladders as well.
Well, now I have a concrete thing for my doc to take a look at. I called to make the appointment. I went in to see him at the end of February and he agreed that we should take a look at the gallbladder. I ended up with an appointment over my lunchhour for what I will call the 'gallbladder challenge test'
First they did an ultrasound to make sure there were no gallstones. If there had been, game over, on to treatment. But there wasn't so we move on to a nuclear medicine "Let's take a 'picture' of your belly" portion. Which I find amusing because a true 'picture' isn't going to tell you a single thing. But I'm certain they have a much more complex way of taking the image. But then she tells me that they have to set up an IV, which I was nervous about to begin with; however, in addition to the IV they give me a shot and then ... I have to wait an hour for it to take effect!! Nobody told me this thing was going to take an HOUR! I'm on my lunchhour here and i've already been here 45 minutes!! ARGH. Very frustrating. Well, I was as caught up as I was gonna get at work and I had the time so, c'est la vie. I called work and let them know I was gonna be back later than expected.
I have told you all of this so far so that I could tell you this part of the story. This part here is where it gets funny. I have what is diagnosable as a vaso-vago response. Meaning there is a nerve in my spine/skull that reacts to needles and makes me pass out. What is particularly interesting about mine is that there is around a 2 minute delay to it. If the person with the needle can distract me well enough long enough I can bypass the reaction and be essentially fine (unhappy, but fine). Well this nuc medicine girl really had to focus on her iv set up. This did not bode well for my nerves. Well, she gets it all set up and then this happens.
Are you ok?
Yep. I think I'm fine.
(pause) Are you sure?
Yeah, I think I might be ....
(steps away to take off her gloves and throw away the wrappers)
Oh, this is not good. (the room has started growing dim)
Yep, not good at all. (the peripheral vision is starting to close in)
Yep, not good. nope. Yeah, I'm gonna pass out.
Does this chair recline??
(black)
i'm in a club of some sort. surrounded by 100 or so beautiful men. all different types of men. all beautiful. and somehow i am the center of attention. and, are you ready for this? oh, look, hi guys! the grateful dead bears are here too!!
They weren't out of place they weren't odd nothing, just there, hanging out.
(yelling) I need some help in here!
(me coming to) ohh, wha happen?
you passed out.
ohhh, that breeze feels niiice (from the ceiling vent)
can you open your eyes and look at me?
(opens eyes to look at her)
(the 2nd staff person) I called for an RN
(realizing that i've scared them) you can call my mom in materials management if you want, her name is phyllis. (also worth noting, this said in an incredibly drug slurry lispy voice)
Hey, can I just drum my fingers like this instead of keeping my eyes open? that breeze feels really nice...
I would much rather see your eyes.
Oh, ok. hey, can we take this thing out?
We can if you really want to .... (she answered me approximately 6 inches from my nose ... ya know cause your perspective is off when you've just passed out)
no, wait, let's just wait a second.
At which point my mom pops into the room and begins regaling them with the extensive stories of how my sister and I both pass out at needles and the many times she's had to pick us up off the floor or had to convince a nurse that they really were going to need something more than a folding chair.
And all of that to tell you that your gallbladder only stores bile. Your liver produces it. Now, for today's biology lesson. When you eat your body releases a hormone abbreviated as CCK. The CCK acts on the gallbladder about an hour after you've eaten and causes it to constrict and dump bile into your intestines. Now your gallbladder should constrict at least 50%. 20-25% and they will leave you alone. Mine? What was mine you ask? 2%. The secondary problem becomes that the gallbladder ends up too full of bile and dumps at will for no apparent reason, with or without food in the intestines. This is what was making me so ill and such seemingly random intervals.
The conclusion is that it must come out. If it were simply dead, we would probably have left it alone, but it is malfunctioning and thus it must be removed. The coolest part is that there is one specific bile duct that goes from your liver directly to your intestintes that is about as big around as the inside of this o. That CCK hormone that acts on your gallbladder also acts on this particular duct. And what happens is that eventually that bile duct expands to the size of an average ball point pen and begins doing the job of the gallbladder. One of the few surgeries where you can remove an organ and the body has a full and complete backup plan that will 'replace' the missing organ.
Last week we had the surgery. Now, I had it done laprascopically which is much less invasive, clearly, than slicing you open and taking it out. They poke 4 holes, blow you up like a balloon, find the gallbladder, disconnect it and suck it out through a metal, medical straw. I went in last Weds morning and waited for 2.5 hours for them to take me into surgery. I made it through pre-op blood work (I still don't know what they were testing there) with no passing out or anything. But then, I did have 3 people in the room to help distract me and talk to me. Then we waited. and waited. and waited.
Got into what they call 'the holding area' which we've decided they should rename to something less psych ward or less prison or even less cattle-ish. Had a nurse who was 2 days from having a baby and had lost all sense of humor do my IV. I warned her I'm a fainter and that I was very nervous about the IV. Then i tried to crack a joke that at least if I passed out there'd be less work for the anesthesiologist, no counting back from 100. And she very seriously and earnestly begins to tell me that they still have to put me to sleep wah wah wah. And, because I was to the point where I simply didn't care anymore I actually looked at her and said 'i'm sorry, I was trying to crack a joke there.' But, she was very nice and wrapped my arm about 5 times inside a towel so there was no chance I could see the IV.
Then my surgeon came out and chatted with me. And answered a few questions and put my mind further at ease. Then the anesthesiologist came over and chatted with me. And, because I wanted to know, I asked if he'd seen that movie Awake. It's about someone who suffers from anesthetic awareness, basically you are some level of awake and aware during a surgery. I absolutely flat out refused to ever see the movie because I knew it would freak me out permanently if I ever had to have surgery. But the A doc told me that it happens in about 1 of 10,000 cases, he's only had 2 in 40 some odd years of surgery and the last one was 20ish years ago. He said even if you are aware at some level during the surgery that they give you an amnesiatic medicine so you don't remember it anyway. So, that helped put me even further at ease. He did, however, tell me that I wouldn't remember going into the OR. But I do. I remember them wheeling me in and putting a couple of monitors or something on my arms and rib cage and, somehow, I remember trying to tell one of the nurses a joke or story or one-liner through the oxygen mask.
But then I'm out until I wake up in recovery. And I wake up hearing someone puke. And then I realize it's me because I remember wishing I had enough strength to ask the nurse to wipe off my face cause I had some leftovers on my cheek. I also remember berating myself to wake up and feel better and get better and snap out of it. And then stopping myself and saying
why?? why exactly do I need to feel better?? I have nothing else to do for 3 days!!
So I relaxed. And finally got better enough to be taken back to the outpatient room I started in. However, that nurse that started walking me down the corridor, man she musta been a NASCAR driver in a past life, felt like she took off like a bat outta you know where. So I asksed her to slow down becuase I was afraid I'd puke again!!
Now here comes another of the weirder parts of all this. I went to get off the gurney and hobble into the room and the chair they have waiting there and I swear my calf muscles almost CRAMPED! I wondered for a second what in the world they had done to me in surgery!! Never did figure that out, but my calves were sore for about a day and a half.
But I made it into the chair. The nurse came in to check my vitals. The surgeon came in to tell me the post-op stuff, which I barely remember, and he made me sign a form, which I found interesting since I was still pretty dang out of it. But I do remember he told me two things 1) It went perfectly and everyone treated me like a queen and 2) I was to take it easy for the next few days and into next week, and even if i was feeling better and wanted to milk it, I had permission to milk it. I sat in that chair for an hour or more before I was even conscious enough to realize it was 3:00 and the only reason I realized that was because Mom was watching Dr. Phil. Around 4 I was finally conscious enough to walk 2 yards in the hallway (literally, 2-3 yard sticks) and be released.
Mom got the car, nurse wheeled me out, Walgreens was visited, and home to bed. But not before I sent the pre-saved text messages to my loved ones and acquaintances to let them know I was out of surgery and home recovering. I wasn't sure if I would actually sleep or just lay there too lazy and drugged out to move or do much. But sleep I did. Got up at 6 for about 5 minutes, had a couple of crackers and something hydrating-ish to drink and back to sleep. Woke up a little after 8 and watched a small part of Criminal Minds with my sister, ate a few more crackers and some juice and then back to bed. Not for too long cause I got up around 9 and talked to my mom for a bit and called a good friend in another state who didn't get a text. Talked to her for a bit and talked to mom a bit longer. Was surprisingly awake so I got on the net and let everyone know what I was up to and put a movie on the laptop (thanks AGAIN so much friend!!) and back to sleepy town I went.
All said I slept 19 of those first 24 hours and I'm not the least bit ashamed or upset about it. I rested the next two days and spent time with the fam and laid around a lot. Came back to my own place on Saturday. Had a couple of friends visit and then a friend brought a movie and we hung the rest of the night. I've had a very quick and good recovery. I'm feeling quite good. I've had a few dairy products since the surgery and no immediate reactions to anything. So, I'm hopeful I can return to normal eating in the next few weeks.
- and more
Remember I put that up there? AS if the gallbladder wasn't enough. I did go to work today and managed to work a full 8 hours. I wasn't sure if I could make it and we were all going to play it by ear. If I needed to go home, I could go, but if I could stay I would stay. I came home at lunch and had some leftovers and read a book for a bit. Then i left. I was walking to my car ... and I TOTALLY turned my ankle 90 degrees and almost fell face first into the rocks and gravel that seem to constantly fill the side of my road. But ya know how when you're falling like that you can still think and react fairly quickly sometimes? Well, I knew if I could get to my car at least I wouldn't wipe out on the ground. So I somehow managed to get myself over to the car. And into the car. And, all of that .... without mutilating the hostess cupcake I had in my hand. So, my ankle is badly sprained and a tad achey and I have TV waiting for me. So, I'm finally going to post what is probably the longest post I've put up yet and go get my ankle up.
I have pictures if you want to see them. Pictures of the 3 holes in my belly and pictures of my insides that they gave my mom. You have to specifically request to see them though. I won't just put them up for you. Whew, now I'm finally done with all that.
Last September I went to do a L'Bri skincare party and had a glass of milk on my way out as 'supper' because I ran out of time to actually eat anything. By the time the party was over I had so much gurgling and bloating in my digestive track that I felt bad for the hostess. I may have even apologized for my gas. Yes, it was that bad.
As a result, I started noticing that I would have a similar reaction to all milk. I then began removing all milk and dairy products from my diet. Slowly but surely, in small conservative steps removing more and more and more and more.
Milk.
Cheese.
Pseudo-cheesy items.
Anything cream based.
Until at last, I was reading warning labels and refusing to consume anything that had a milk warning on it.
Do you know how many things have milk warnings on them?!?!
Do you!!
A lot. It is incredibly difficult to not consume anything with any form of dairy product in it. Further proof that I would never make it as a vegan.
I missed my cheese.
And my chocolate milk.
And my chocolate cupcakes.
And my peanut butter M&Ms.
And my pizza!!!
and my cheese!
But, alas, if this is what it took to feel 'normal' then so be it. I could handle that. In case you aren't sure, I had self-diagnosed lactose intolerance. However, mine sometimes made me puke, like BAD. So I did some research and found that other countries have diagnosed a form of lactose intolerance that acts more like an allergy in which your body perceives the dairy to be a foreign body and attacks it, thus expelling it as quickly as possible. And I found, that if I realized that was happening early enough and emptied my stomach of said 'foreign bodies' as quickly and completely as possible, I felt just fine within a half an hour.
I was resigned to this life. I was resigned to a life with no milk and no cheese and no chocolate and no pudding and no cream cheese and no pizza and no lots of things. C'est la vie I told myself. A friend's son has cancer, there are MUCH worse things I could be fighting right now. This is easy to fix. I can't eat dairy. No problem. Fewer options to make good choices from, maybe now I could finally start losing weight!
Then one day in February, I went to Burger King for lunch. I was seriously craving Onion Rings. But Onion Rings do not a lunch make. So I added French Fries, because no matter how much you want to argue with me, I will hold firm to my stance that BK Fries are the BEST FRIES IN THE WORLD. But I couldn't just eat carbs and fried carbs at that for lunch! I had to have some form of protein ... CHICKEN TENDERS!! I know I'm ridiculous, that's why you love me. I consumed a fair amount of each on my lunch hour and went back to work. And spent the most physically uncomfortable afternoon at my desk that I have ever had. Just this rock in my gut all afternoon. It didn't go away until about 10 that night. And that night I was telling my lovely friend Knower of All Things Digestive about this discomfort and she asked me the obvious,
Have you ever had your gallbladder checked?
To which I responded, Of course, last month they were in there poking around and checked it for me. Now if you're not aware, I am not one of those people who goes to the doctor for every little thing. I barely go for the big things. I had friends telling me for months to go to the doctor cause I couldn't seem to get the lactose intolerance under control. I kept saying "Why pay my $250 deductible to have a doctor say 'try avoiding dairy products and come back in a month' when I could do that myself. Until I had a concrete thing for him to look for then I wasn't going to go in. I was ok. I was pretty dang good most of the time in fact. But my Knower of All Things Digestive brings up this gallbladder concern and then tells me that two of her friends thought they were also lactose intolerant only to figure out the true culprit was their gallbladders as well.
Well, now I have a concrete thing for my doc to take a look at. I called to make the appointment. I went in to see him at the end of February and he agreed that we should take a look at the gallbladder. I ended up with an appointment over my lunchhour for what I will call the 'gallbladder challenge test'
First they did an ultrasound to make sure there were no gallstones. If there had been, game over, on to treatment. But there wasn't so we move on to a nuclear medicine "Let's take a 'picture' of your belly" portion. Which I find amusing because a true 'picture' isn't going to tell you a single thing. But I'm certain they have a much more complex way of taking the image. But then she tells me that they have to set up an IV, which I was nervous about to begin with; however, in addition to the IV they give me a shot and then ... I have to wait an hour for it to take effect!! Nobody told me this thing was going to take an HOUR! I'm on my lunchhour here and i've already been here 45 minutes!! ARGH. Very frustrating. Well, I was as caught up as I was gonna get at work and I had the time so, c'est la vie. I called work and let them know I was gonna be back later than expected.
I have told you all of this so far so that I could tell you this part of the story. This part here is where it gets funny. I have what is diagnosable as a vaso-vago response. Meaning there is a nerve in my spine/skull that reacts to needles and makes me pass out. What is particularly interesting about mine is that there is around a 2 minute delay to it. If the person with the needle can distract me well enough long enough I can bypass the reaction and be essentially fine (unhappy, but fine). Well this nuc medicine girl really had to focus on her iv set up. This did not bode well for my nerves. Well, she gets it all set up and then this happens.
Are you ok?
Yep. I think I'm fine.
(pause) Are you sure?
Yeah, I think I might be ....
(steps away to take off her gloves and throw away the wrappers)
Oh, this is not good. (the room has started growing dim)
Yep, not good at all. (the peripheral vision is starting to close in)
Yep, not good. nope. Yeah, I'm gonna pass out.
Does this chair recline??
(black)
i'm in a club of some sort. surrounded by 100 or so beautiful men. all different types of men. all beautiful. and somehow i am the center of attention. and, are you ready for this? oh, look, hi guys! the grateful dead bears are here too!!
They weren't out of place they weren't odd nothing, just there, hanging out.
(yelling) I need some help in here!
(me coming to) ohh, wha happen?
you passed out.
ohhh, that breeze feels niiice (from the ceiling vent)
can you open your eyes and look at me?
(opens eyes to look at her)
(the 2nd staff person) I called for an RN
(realizing that i've scared them) you can call my mom in materials management if you want, her name is phyllis. (also worth noting, this said in an incredibly drug slurry lispy voice)
Hey, can I just drum my fingers like this instead of keeping my eyes open? that breeze feels really nice...
I would much rather see your eyes.
Oh, ok. hey, can we take this thing out?
We can if you really want to .... (she answered me approximately 6 inches from my nose ... ya know cause your perspective is off when you've just passed out)
no, wait, let's just wait a second.
At which point my mom pops into the room and begins regaling them with the extensive stories of how my sister and I both pass out at needles and the many times she's had to pick us up off the floor or had to convince a nurse that they really were going to need something more than a folding chair.
And all of that to tell you that your gallbladder only stores bile. Your liver produces it. Now, for today's biology lesson. When you eat your body releases a hormone abbreviated as CCK. The CCK acts on the gallbladder about an hour after you've eaten and causes it to constrict and dump bile into your intestines. Now your gallbladder should constrict at least 50%. 20-25% and they will leave you alone. Mine? What was mine you ask? 2%. The secondary problem becomes that the gallbladder ends up too full of bile and dumps at will for no apparent reason, with or without food in the intestines. This is what was making me so ill and such seemingly random intervals.
The conclusion is that it must come out. If it were simply dead, we would probably have left it alone, but it is malfunctioning and thus it must be removed. The coolest part is that there is one specific bile duct that goes from your liver directly to your intestintes that is about as big around as the inside of this o. That CCK hormone that acts on your gallbladder also acts on this particular duct. And what happens is that eventually that bile duct expands to the size of an average ball point pen and begins doing the job of the gallbladder. One of the few surgeries where you can remove an organ and the body has a full and complete backup plan that will 'replace' the missing organ.
Last week we had the surgery. Now, I had it done laprascopically which is much less invasive, clearly, than slicing you open and taking it out. They poke 4 holes, blow you up like a balloon, find the gallbladder, disconnect it and suck it out through a metal, medical straw. I went in last Weds morning and waited for 2.5 hours for them to take me into surgery. I made it through pre-op blood work (I still don't know what they were testing there) with no passing out or anything. But then, I did have 3 people in the room to help distract me and talk to me. Then we waited. and waited. and waited.
Got into what they call 'the holding area' which we've decided they should rename to something less psych ward or less prison or even less cattle-ish. Had a nurse who was 2 days from having a baby and had lost all sense of humor do my IV. I warned her I'm a fainter and that I was very nervous about the IV. Then i tried to crack a joke that at least if I passed out there'd be less work for the anesthesiologist, no counting back from 100. And she very seriously and earnestly begins to tell me that they still have to put me to sleep wah wah wah. And, because I was to the point where I simply didn't care anymore I actually looked at her and said 'i'm sorry, I was trying to crack a joke there.' But, she was very nice and wrapped my arm about 5 times inside a towel so there was no chance I could see the IV.
Then my surgeon came out and chatted with me. And answered a few questions and put my mind further at ease. Then the anesthesiologist came over and chatted with me. And, because I wanted to know, I asked if he'd seen that movie Awake. It's about someone who suffers from anesthetic awareness, basically you are some level of awake and aware during a surgery. I absolutely flat out refused to ever see the movie because I knew it would freak me out permanently if I ever had to have surgery. But the A doc told me that it happens in about 1 of 10,000 cases, he's only had 2 in 40 some odd years of surgery and the last one was 20ish years ago. He said even if you are aware at some level during the surgery that they give you an amnesiatic medicine so you don't remember it anyway. So, that helped put me even further at ease. He did, however, tell me that I wouldn't remember going into the OR. But I do. I remember them wheeling me in and putting a couple of monitors or something on my arms and rib cage and, somehow, I remember trying to tell one of the nurses a joke or story or one-liner through the oxygen mask.
But then I'm out until I wake up in recovery. And I wake up hearing someone puke. And then I realize it's me because I remember wishing I had enough strength to ask the nurse to wipe off my face cause I had some leftovers on my cheek. I also remember berating myself to wake up and feel better and get better and snap out of it. And then stopping myself and saying
why?? why exactly do I need to feel better?? I have nothing else to do for 3 days!!
So I relaxed. And finally got better enough to be taken back to the outpatient room I started in. However, that nurse that started walking me down the corridor, man she musta been a NASCAR driver in a past life, felt like she took off like a bat outta you know where. So I asksed her to slow down becuase I was afraid I'd puke again!!
Now here comes another of the weirder parts of all this. I went to get off the gurney and hobble into the room and the chair they have waiting there and I swear my calf muscles almost CRAMPED! I wondered for a second what in the world they had done to me in surgery!! Never did figure that out, but my calves were sore for about a day and a half.
But I made it into the chair. The nurse came in to check my vitals. The surgeon came in to tell me the post-op stuff, which I barely remember, and he made me sign a form, which I found interesting since I was still pretty dang out of it. But I do remember he told me two things 1) It went perfectly and everyone treated me like a queen and 2) I was to take it easy for the next few days and into next week, and even if i was feeling better and wanted to milk it, I had permission to milk it. I sat in that chair for an hour or more before I was even conscious enough to realize it was 3:00 and the only reason I realized that was because Mom was watching Dr. Phil. Around 4 I was finally conscious enough to walk 2 yards in the hallway (literally, 2-3 yard sticks) and be released.
Mom got the car, nurse wheeled me out, Walgreens was visited, and home to bed. But not before I sent the pre-saved text messages to my loved ones and acquaintances to let them know I was out of surgery and home recovering. I wasn't sure if I would actually sleep or just lay there too lazy and drugged out to move or do much. But sleep I did. Got up at 6 for about 5 minutes, had a couple of crackers and something hydrating-ish to drink and back to sleep. Woke up a little after 8 and watched a small part of Criminal Minds with my sister, ate a few more crackers and some juice and then back to bed. Not for too long cause I got up around 9 and talked to my mom for a bit and called a good friend in another state who didn't get a text. Talked to her for a bit and talked to mom a bit longer. Was surprisingly awake so I got on the net and let everyone know what I was up to and put a movie on the laptop (thanks AGAIN so much friend!!) and back to sleepy town I went.
All said I slept 19 of those first 24 hours and I'm not the least bit ashamed or upset about it. I rested the next two days and spent time with the fam and laid around a lot. Came back to my own place on Saturday. Had a couple of friends visit and then a friend brought a movie and we hung the rest of the night. I've had a very quick and good recovery. I'm feeling quite good. I've had a few dairy products since the surgery and no immediate reactions to anything. So, I'm hopeful I can return to normal eating in the next few weeks.
- and more
Remember I put that up there? AS if the gallbladder wasn't enough. I did go to work today and managed to work a full 8 hours. I wasn't sure if I could make it and we were all going to play it by ear. If I needed to go home, I could go, but if I could stay I would stay. I came home at lunch and had some leftovers and read a book for a bit. Then i left. I was walking to my car ... and I TOTALLY turned my ankle 90 degrees and almost fell face first into the rocks and gravel that seem to constantly fill the side of my road. But ya know how when you're falling like that you can still think and react fairly quickly sometimes? Well, I knew if I could get to my car at least I wouldn't wipe out on the ground. So I somehow managed to get myself over to the car. And into the car. And, all of that .... without mutilating the hostess cupcake I had in my hand. So, my ankle is badly sprained and a tad achey and I have TV waiting for me. So, I'm finally going to post what is probably the longest post I've put up yet and go get my ankle up.
I have pictures if you want to see them. Pictures of the 3 holes in my belly and pictures of my insides that they gave my mom. You have to specifically request to see them though. I won't just put them up for you. Whew, now I'm finally done with all that.
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