I teach 4 year olds, read books,
& spend the rest of my time playing with my "kids" which happen to be sugar gliders, a hedgehog, turtles, etc.
I'm a Crazy Cat Lady, sans cats.
I am a Spoonie, a Mormon, a Whovian, and Steampunk warms the cogs of my clockwork heart!
I write, I read, I rescue, I rrrrrrrrreally like toys?
*I was out for the whole Colonoscopy even though I was afraid I might not be because the dumb pamphlet said "if you feel any discomfort during the procedure tell your doctor." (And by the way, even those COMMERCIALS for that dumb new movie, Awake, are lie my worst nightmare lately with all my hospital visits) *The nurse got my IV needle in on the first try *I found a very funny pamphlet on Constipation in the waiting room that I drew inappropriate pictures and wrote private jokes to send to BoyKid as a letter. *My very awesome roomie had already taken care of all my pets when I went home tonight. *I got to hold the most pitiful (but BEAUTIFUL) and starving-to-death because of some digestive illness Weimaraner puppy when I got there, too! Her name is Tootsie and she is... GORGEOUS. The Roomie only has her a couple nights though before taking her to her new home. The poor thing will need a lot of vet visits to keep her alive... like Suzy.... but, well, "it's what we do." Holding her was heaven. *The colonoscopy showed nothing wrong with me.
Downs
*my hand is very bruised from the IV *The day before, PREPPING for the colonoscopy was HORRIBLE. It makes you feel SO sick and you are in the bathroom for HOURS getting "cleaned out." *They put a camera up my butt!!! *This is an associate of Dr. ScrewIt. Yeah. *I am still in just as much pain as ever, but... *The colonoscopy showed nothing wrong with me. seriously. what the hell is wrong with me?
For reasons I will not go into, and ever since Wednesday, I am presently staying at the Padre's, going home only to feed the critters. It involves very bad things. I will probably get to be home again when The Roomie comes home from her Turkey Day break. Maybe not.
It is later now and I still am still here. Also, I am still going to doctors every dumb day, pretty much. Including today. I still have no answers, but I have a few more intelligent questions. SO that's a start.
2. cold packs 3. bathtubs deep enough to cover your whole self and a tall cup of ice water to drink 4. uncooked tortillas 5. Father's priesthood blessings 6. swimming 7. Heroes... yes, the TV show 8. Fat-Free Brownies 9. warm, fluffy bathrobes 10. meds that WORK 11. working for my sister so I'm not fired yet 12. SoftLips 13. Supportive friends, online and RL, too 14. Gaia 15. Insurance when it actually covers something 16. Cousins! 17. Cynthia getting to twirl her baton in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade 18. VCRs so I don't actually have to wake up and WATCH the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on the off chance we can see Leslie when the American Fork band goes by twirling her flag
19. heating pads 20. nice nurses who are REALLY good at finding veins 21. Paul the Apostle 22. Non-LDS friends who stand up for the LDS church when they hear lies about it 23. Hilarious letters from BoyKid 24. cute boys that are marginally distracting 25. our cherry tomatoes still popping out red all over despite the rather frigid weather 26. FINISHED laundry 27. good, comfortable chairs 28. Bishops and counselors who listen 29. hot, comforting, egg-drop soup with cabbage 30. pumpkin seeds 31. sugar gliders that forgive me even when I don't play as often as I should, and still let me cuddle their soft fur 32. Shasta that welcomes me home, waging and barking 33. Perry Mason, when I can still find it 34. pumpkin, the wonder food for ALL living things! 35. Bratanik, the Tortoise, getting healthier and more adjusted to his new situation 36. good sugar-free gum 37. General Conference talks 38. pancakes 39. cell phones that carry a charge longer than a day 40. my Wonder Woman journal 41. safe little heaters in my house 42. non-idiot doctors 43. parties with LinkUp friends 44. fascinating photography and art 45. Missions and missionaries who know why they are REALLY out there 46.Hope, when it's there. 47. the END of day light savings time 48. the Russian Tortoise group on Yahoo 49. good dreams 50. You.
Yeah, I know. I am a jerk. But hurting everyday and feeling like I am being pushed into becoming a drug addict is just pissing me off.
I still hurt everyday and nobody can see a reason why. I am scheduled for a colonoscopy next week. Dr. ScrewIt told me he doesn't see any reason why I should hurt and that I should just "walk it off," "push through the pain," "play broken," and about 19,000 other sports metaphors until I "lose ONE HUNDRED POUNDS" and hopefully "that should take care of it."
Oh. Well, is THAT all. Just lose 100 lbs, WHILE having debilitating, unexplained pain no less, and maybe it might not hurt. Be a druggie a year or so. No biggie. WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT?!
He is not nearly as cute as before.
And I am still hurting just as bad and still have little to no hope.
don't want to write and too much morphine (well, enough to make me stupid, not enough to make me not hurt) to do it correctly anyway, but an update. more cat scans in the ER and an ultrasound I don't have appendicitis. I don't have visible cysts. I just have pain nobdy can fix. so they sent me home shaking thier heads, the ER doc was really nice but worried. I am at the parent's now. I miss my gliders.
everything smells like playdoh?
More specialists tomorrow, but they probably won't find anything. I am cultivating my own ailments for the worserment of mankind. I am germ warfare. I am ready to lose.
Today's doctor adventures were at least a little DIFFERENT. I am still in pain... they still don't REALLY know why... but at least it wasn't the same doctors or ALL the same tests.
Did you know there is something I hate more than shots and needles? My horrible veins. I am really REALLY hard to get blood from. I warn every nurse and phlebotomist that I'm a "hard stick." When they ask me which arm I like I tell them I have no preference, but instead tell them what locations have worked most recently... my hand, my wrist, etc. There are different reactions... some are nice and try to be as helpful as possible, using very small needles, getting people in the office who are really good at it to come in, etc. Others poke in wherever, then fish under the skin, which is awful. Some get very angry and prideful, like I have insulted their skill by suggesting they might not get it... and THEN are even madder when they CAN'T like I am purposely hiding my blood from them.
Anyway, I woke up and went straight to one hospital lab for my white blood count. As usual it was difficult, but the nurse was a nice one... and GOOD. She didn't poke 'til she found it (no fishing!) got it on only one try! Yay! Then I went to meet with my new primary care doctor. That's right. No more Dr. Hasacrazywife. Not that he is the one I most want to be rid of (anyone know an endocrinologist in Utah county, preferably that takes Altius, BESIDES Dr. NYB?) but I needed a doctor and I didn't want to keep going to UrgentCare. But Dr. Hasacrazywife is now only working, like, 3 hours a day. I think he has a brain tumor? I think... he's DYING. I feel terrible since he's one of my only doctors who is NOT an idiot, but we were going to have to change at the end of this month to an Altius doc anyway... and I couldn't get an appointment about this stupid Appendicitis-ish mystery, so now I have a new general practitioner.
She is out in American Fork and reminds me a little of Professor Trelawny. Like all the others, she was similarly perplexed by my test results. At the end of her own examination she diagnosed it as POSSIBLY an early, very slow moving, appendicitis. She recommended exploratory surgery, ordered a bunch of tests (including, yes, a stool because...
hee hee hee!
Anyway, she also really wanted us to have the gastroenterologist check over her tests, see if he thought the same, add more, take any away, and basically see what HE thought about me just getting surgery regardless. Since I had HIS appointment right after his, the 2nd opinion seemed natural.
I had never met this doctor yet either and, truth be told, I was a little taken aback by the fact that we was pretty dang CUTE. Gastroenterology should NOT be a CUTE field of work. It's a little... disturbing. AND he was VERY nice. And liked my shirt a lot... but kept trying to find meaning in it.
"I LOVE your shirt. What does it MEAN?" "Ummm... like, it's a unicorn... like Uni... Corn." "I know, but what does it mean politically?" "Nothing?" "Really?" "As far as I know." "But... corn? Maybe like renewable energy? Biodegradable plastics? fuel?" "Maybe it COULD... if you wanted, but I don't think it meant to." "Oh... Still. I love it. Yellow is my color, though. I am very much a yellow guy."
He also went on for FOREVER at one point in the exam with this story about if you were in the woods and there were bears after you and you would pee your pants... and I swear he mentioned peeing your pants, like, 3 times... and kept going on with a LOT of details about this bear attack. The message was stress can make the ulcer worse (umm... Duh?) but he was really INTO his story. Mom and I both admitted in the car we would have told him to shut up and GET to the POINT if we didn't both think he was cute. THAT was kinda funny.
When he wanted to change my meds and I mentioned that I WOULD change meds, but that it was quite expensive and the insurance had already denied it, he said "Oh, Screw it! I'll give you all the samples you need!" Yes, I LIKE this doctor. He also concurred with Dr. Trelawny's tests and so we were sent to the hospital to get those started... and he recommended checking into the ER in the pain got worse because he thought I would be needing a surgeon but, like the others keep saying, "your presentation is... 'abnormal.' I just don't know!"
The next tests were BAD. They were with the type of nurses who are angry that they can't get my blood. Angry and FISHING. She hurt a lot and achieved next to nothing, dumb CBCs again... seeing if my white cells are going up, oh shocker, THEY ARE and they still don't know what is going on, bet you ANYTHING.
I went home and cried and cried. I hit a really bad low. I wanted to die... but I didn't. Instead I gave Bratanik a bath, half listened to a movie, and fell asleep, bawling.
You should not take naps that late, I know. It was long... and when I woke up, The Roomie was asleep and the gliders were awake. It was about 10 pm. Today was Heber's birthday. Well, observed. It is the day I brought him home and we guessed he was about 5 then, so he is about 8 now. My little man. I love him so much. I planned to do something extra fun for him for dinner... like persimmons as they are his favorite, but instead he just got peas because I felt... drained. He likes peas too. And HE doesn't know it's his birthday anyway (but either do human babies, right?). I cuddled him and gave him yogurt treats, though. So I woke up in time to pay some attention to the babies, especially my boy, and then take pain meds and fall back into a bit of a stupor.... watch a Heroes... and cry some more...
but a little less. Because at least I have gliders who need me.
My days are becoming... repetitive. Yesterday I did go to work because we needed to go to a school for a presentation with Journey North and I have been writing our program for that. But I just HURT a lot and spent the rest of the day at Utah Valley Hospital. But other than things I CAN'T get out of, I am not working because I just hurt too much and feel ill all the time. The ulcer is not healing... at least that is probably why I still hurt whenever I eat anything... or don't eat anything for that matter. Tomorrow I meet with a gastroenterologist about that. That crazy appendix/ovary/etc. place in my bottom ride side hurts as does my back like it wants to kill me and they have no idea why so, yes, tomorrow I get another blood test and probably an ultrasound and once again see what the hospital thinks THIS time.
Everyday I just hurt and probably watch Heroes on my mom's online Netflix thing (yay!) and eat nothing good and think too much and get sad.
I miss work on a regular basis. I miss less pain. I miss... well, that's unrelated, but yes Thanksgiving is coming and that is when Fresno and I had our first real date and I hate that because he keeps being in my dumb dreams.
My Depression has been pretty bad lately, too, for obvious reasons, so that doesn't help.
Oh, and then today I got in a mini-fight with my Sister/boss because SHE lost a spare key at work and she asked if I knew where it was. I said I was sorry, but no. She was frustrated with the situation and took it out on me. She asked if maybe I took it and maybe I couldn't remember because of pain pills. Geez. Thanks for basically calling me a junky, Rinn.
I am going to feed the sugar babies and go to bed early. I am not actually tired... I am just tired of today being here.
Another day, another CAT scan (showing nothing) and blood test (showing my white cells going UP... not getting better). Sent me home again, on antibiotics and told to come back AGAIN for ANOTHER blood test.
Because basically they are telling me I MIGHT still have appendicitis... they just don't SEE it. Or the ovary thing... and they will do an ultrasound next. Or it might be something completely unrelated.
I am tired and I just HURT. I am so tired of this. Seriously, I know I am starting to sound whiney but... Jobette.
Okay, so I wasn't JUST talking about appendicitis because it was a part I had left. Fact is the place hurting the worst happens to BE in the lower right part of my gut... and... yeah. Likely.
So on Sunday night my mom convinced me I needed to check and so I had to go to the UrgentCare. Well, the doc agreed it SEEMED like appendix, took blood and said my white count was a little high... the amount it WOULD be. And so sent me over to the hospital for a CAT Scan... but that seemed normal. However, he said even without the CAT Scan I needed it COULD still be appendicitis. He said if the same place was hurting in 24 hours, to come back and see if the white blood cells were still up.
They were, but not *ENOUGH* so AGAIN... I have to go back for ANOTHER, for blood test. Vials and vials everyday. I hate this. Every 24 hours. If things aren't better they may just DO surgery on NOTHING... but that AREA, it doesn't just have to be an appendix. It could be an ovary thing or a a lymph node on my intestines... anything in that location that might be causing me such pain. WHAT. IS. WRONG. WITH. ME?
Still don't KNOW mind you, and I am still hurting, and will be getting more of those dumb tests, most likely tomorrow.
all during the night I kept thinking( since my stomach was making me CRY) "where IS the appendix anyway?" And all I could think was "usually the back of the book."
Seriously, I don't THINK it's appendicitis, it's just one of the few things I've got LEFT that HASN'T been taken out of medicated. I am so tired of this. I am tired of hurting all the time. The head all the time is one thing... but I can't have my stomach eating me alive too, or else I can't take anything that HELPS the head.
2 funny random things happened this week. One was I saw a lady try to walk through a NON-automatic door as if it WERE automatic. And run RIGHT into it. It was SO hard not to laugh right out loud.
The other is I found a poodle in my yard yesterday. I hoped it's owner would come claim it, so I left it out there till today when it started to get rainy and cold. So I put up a sign at the mailboxes. Here it is:
That last part is because we have weirdos in our neighborhood and I don't want to encourage kids to go to strange houses with out telling parents. I know, this should make it clear *I* am a weirdo and live in the neighborhood but I mean CREEPY Weirdos. I am a NICE Weirdo.
It's supposed to stop. Not ALL my pain, obviously, but the horrible stomach pain. It's SUPPOSED to stop. The doctors keep telling me "No, you should be fine now. Go ahead and eat regular food. Just nothing heavy or spicy." NO. No! It HURTS! It ALL hurts! I hate food. I hate EATING. It HURTS ME. (However, at LEAST unlike the child with the stomach ache in the pic I found I am not, like, half human half pig(?))
And it is SUPPOSED to have stopped. The endoscopy showed ulcers, but that they were healing. If I just took it easy for awhile things would be okay. I am wondering now, with how my stomach feels, if something else is wrong too... because something is NOT getting better. My stomach is hurting all the time... and that's on top of the head stuff that never goes away. And other mystery pains (like girl stuff... What the HELL is going on down THERE?! My OBGYN sure has no clue, and my idiot endocrinologist doesn't care.). And my diabetes is CRAZY right now with now doing insulin though at least I FINALLY have competent HELP with it. Sigh.
Right now I am just hurting... hurting and watching old episodes of Heroes online because I only SAW, like, 4 of the first season, but liked them. So now I am sort of catching up and trying not to think about hurting since most everything, pill-wise just hurts me MORE. It is bad. What am I going to do? Meds are making me WORSE... pain pills make me have an ulcer. The ulcer meds are messing with my other pills. Etcetera... chemical confusion... and that's all the doctors will do. Confuse my body some more.
Had a dumb dream last night. Dumb because it involved Fresno. Also sad last night, Reepicheep, the one-winged (to be accurate, more like 1 and a half winged) Pipit, died. The Roomie is SO sad. She has worked so hard with him. Rest in peace, Reepicheep. I am sorry we couldn't save you. If The Roomie couldn't, I don't know that you had a chance... but I am still sorry. You will be missed. You were a good little bird. Igor was confused, but he had a crush on you. And Critter, well, he annoys ALL the birds, but that little parakeet just ADORED you SO MUCH. He is mourning pretty badly now. We are worried about him. He makes me cry. He keeps looking for you and climbing into your cage, Reep. But don't worry, he will adapt. And You, well, you will be happy in Heaven. His eye is on the Pipits, too, you know.
It's a very good thing I have my pets to keep me sane... or at least insane in the GOOD ways.
Last night everybody was cracking me up. I was changing the substrate for the crabs. I recently got some more of them and some of them are a LOT more friendly than my others and were just motoring around the living room at top speed... until one of the dogs would approach them and then disappear into their shell. None of them (Well, except Princess Lucy who I kept separate because she is a BRAT!) are the LEAST bit aggressive, so we never had to worry about the dogs getting PINCHED.... when the dogs sniffed the crabs would just go in their shells. Trinket, usually the little hunter, decided the best plan of action was to ignore these troubling things completely. But Shasta always tries to makes FRIENDS with ALL moving things (she loves Boo, the gerbil, who actually likes her BACK. Because our house is crazy). So every time the crab would move she would wag her tail and go to greet and sniff it, then look SO CONFUSED, and cock her head and look at us like "Whoa! My new friend turned into a rock!" and walk away. She did it EVERY TIME! It was HILARIOUS! Sometimes she would get REALLY frustrated and whine, but she never even scratched the crab, just walked away, sad, until it walked again. She went to The Roomie's room and pulled her out, crying and POINTED at the problem, then wagging at the crabs, then scaring them, then whining again.
The gliders were cold so they bark till I come in and hold them and therefore felt it extra necessary to hang out in my bra, crabbing. As in... you know... making that sound they do. It's called "crabbing." It usually doesn't sound weird to me except I have been blabbing about CRABS. Anyway, yeah, my gliders. They make me giggle. They always do. Love love love them.
When I am super struggling with depression I either do not write at all or inundate you with entries. I guess this time is the latter. Sorry.
I left church right after the sacrament. Not Sacrament MEETING. The actual Sacrament. I was having a really yucky anxiety attack, and decided it wasn't worth it to be there. I could hardly hear the words being said by the man speaking, my heart was beating all weird and I thought with trying to get my sugars balanced there WAS a chance it might NOT be a panic attack anyway. I felt sick and like I could not sit still. I almost ran out of the chapel. I checked my blood and it wasn't WAY high (just 222) just a little, nor was it low, but I stayed at home anyway, but decided I couldn't do that either. I had to GO somewhere. I felt a little like driving crazy fast in the canyon but decided that was not a safe release right now, so instead I drove to the Padres and decided at least there I could talk to Mom when she got home from her own meetings. She isn't here yet.
What is it about anxiety disorder that makes you feel like your arms and legs are going to go in all different dirrections? Like you have to run away? Like your brain will burst if you STAY somewhere, even somewhere you KNOW you should be.. like CHURCH... a place that is good. A place that is safe. I should have brought my journal. MAYBE I could have written some of my panic out and stayed longer. But I didn't and so I escaped instead.
If Mom doesn't get home soon I may not even get to talk to her anyway (unless this clock has not been changed yet? Let me check. No, it has) because my home teachers are coming over at 4:30. I don't want them to even come. But I do not want to be difficult to visit. They are doing what THEY should. And I should support that. But I don't want to have to face THEM and have THEM wonder (nor do I want to TELL them, though) why I left mid-meeting today.
Bleh.
Oh, and today a song made me cry because it reminded me of Fresno. Sorta figured I was done with THAT, you know? Don't know when I will be. I am certainly not pleased with other "prospects" that like me, and usually the idea of remaining single forever is okay with me so long as I have my critters, but sometimes it sounds pretty depressing. Like when I am, you know, DEPRESSED?!
I am glad I have, at least, an interesting roommate. I really hope I don't chase her away with my clutter and problems. We do weird stuff like learn how to clip bird's wings and other rescue stuff (we have a new rescue right now, a pipit with one wing, who we thought was a thrush) and right now we are experimenting (on us and the animals) with SOUND THERAPY. Basically it sounds like we are listening to alien music... or are robots. It is funny. Some of it is just plain wacko. But some of it is... interesting. Anyway, it is pretty fun and it is something to do.
Sure, it's not roommate stuff like water balloon wars with the boys next door like Rinny, or even wearing wigs in WalMart or driving around making the giant teddy bear wave, which was HILARIOUS... but it is a unique roomie experience. So we have been listening to alien music and giggling at it and the responses of the animals to it.
I should go home for the home teachers now. Also I should feed Bratanik. He probably is a bit confused why we are all acting an hour later than usual.
Hee hee hee! The Seven Year Itch is pretty hilarious. I always thought I had seen it before, but apparently I was wrong and now I HAVE and it is FUNNY!
Last night I dreamed The Roomie was really mad at me because the house was so chaotic. (And she wouldn't let my home teachers come and yelled at them. I had to ride a giant bike, like 20 feet tall... to go tell them so.) And when I woke up I found out it wasn't SO far off. I mean, it WAS... no bikes, or getting MAD, but she had written me (because we don't do confrontation face-to-face very well) about how things were out of control. I knew that and so it made me feel even EXTRA crappy and depressed, but I was still glad she wrote, you know?
Like I told her, I have always had a problem with STUFF and being organized... and I know it's gotten worse and worse. It's a self defeating behavior... Getting "bargains" makes me feel happy, but having clutter (and worse, making HER and others feel bad!) makes me feel crappy... It is stupid because I can SEE myself cycling, but I still do it. I know it's one of my "behaviors" with my OCD and Depression, but it is one I REALLY need to work on because it most affects other people. I would feel awful if my stuff chased her out of the house!!!
So why do I KNOW this, and still want to cry when I think about getting rid of things? And worse, why still freaking SHOP?!
But, I did to some real, FlyLady-style organizing today. Not a LOT of it... but I made, as my mom calls it "a dent" in the family room and re-vowed to have an empty sink always. And I mean it.
I even got a Storage Unit. It may not be a very smart thing to do, economically... I need to get RID of stuff, not make room for it, but I thought, maybe if I have somewhere empty to take it... sort it... store SOME of it. My little garage away from home. So I did it. It is sort of a secret though.
And my stomach hurts so bad tonight I am afraid that ulcer is going to eat right through the lining and skin and pour out my shirt. And my head isn't much better than that. Urrgh. Doctors. Shots. Bruises left by every injection (how do I not get those?) Pills. PAIN. I hate my body. I hate it as much as it seems to hate ME.
I am back and not so out of it now so I thought I would blog a little. And watch The Office. And drink something that DOESN'T hurt my bruised throat OR ulcered stomach to eat. I haven't eaten anything because they told me yesterday: "Do not eat or drink anything by mouth after midnight." How ELSE would I eat it? By nose? By butt? HONESTLY.
Anyway, as usual they took forever FINDING a vein for my IV. I think they oughta just install a spigot in my arm or something that can be turned on and off at will. Like tapping a keg. Because NOBODY can get me the first try. The nice ones try once, then go get someone else to try. The mean ones have pride issues. They poke, then poke again, then fish around in my arm with the needle, then poke elsewhere and fish, and then get someone else to do the same thing. These ones weren't 2 bad. One poked, but just once... then got another lady who poked just twice, and then fished, but at least got it. Because I am me I was there an hour longer than I should have been because anesthesia makes me too low on oxygen. I kept apnea-ing BUT yes! Hooray! They did NOT make me stay over night!
