I absolutely love my sleep – even more so the older I get. Isn’t it funny how sleep seemed like punishment when we were kids, but all the sudden changes to a gift as we get older? Life’s just weird like that.
When I was younger I always slept IN something. During the era I grew up, young girls always wore gowns. I loved my gowns. Through the years I had many of them, some of which my mother even made for me. One of my fondest childhood memories involved such a nightgown. Courtesy of my uncle – my mother, grandmother and I had a week in a private oceanfront house at the end of the beach. While under her watchful eye, my mother let me walk around the big low-tide beach under a big bright full moon. The beach was very private and I was the only one on it that night. The moon was huge and full, and it felt like daylight on the beach – only with the moon instead. To this very day, the moon has never been more beautiful to me than it was that night.
From my teenage years on, it was usually just an oversized t-shirt and shorts that I slept in. If it was really cold out, pajama pants would probably come into play. I guess the point of all this is… I just can’t remember a time when I didn’t wear some form of clothing to bed. The mindset I had just couldn’t fathom not wearing clothing to bed.
If it were ever considered a hangup of mine – let’s just say that little ditty is out the window now. For the past 5-6 years, nothing has ever felt more natural than sleeping naked. I don’t know if I can explain why exactly, but I’ll give it a whirl.
It just feels healthy. My skin feels cool all night, as opposed to being oppressed with outerwear. Since I take my showers at night, it feels even better getting into bed clean. Sleeping naked feels natural… and free. More than anything else, that’s what it is – I feel free. I actually sleep better and more soundly than I ever have before. I believe there to be a multitude of other advantages to sleeping naked, suffice it to say I won’t list them here. 🙂 Let’s just say everything I’ve referenced so far has to do with flying solo. If you have a significant other, there are many added benefits of sleeping bare.
I guess the only drawbacks would be a break-in, fire, or other such sort of calamity – for these, I like to think I’ve planned ahead as much as possible and taken some necessary precautions. I can report I’ve sneaked around in the dark naked with a loaded weapon before when I heard something outside… but that’s a whole other post altogether. All things considered, as I look back it kinda makes me sad that I’ve missed out on sleeping naked my entire adult life. Looks like I’ve got some lost time to make up for.
I’ve always been concerned with how people perceive me, more than I ever should be. I’m not talking about outer appearances – mostly I mean seeking approval from others which is impossible half the time anyway. I continually watch what I say, how it may be taken, and a truckload of other crap that I shouldn’t even bother with. I’m well aware this trait is a complete waste of time and energy, but it’s a curse that I’ve never been able to completely harness. Maybe someday.
Acts of kindness, compassion and generosity which are shown at ‘less than favorable’ times in your life can and should be seen as a huge blessing. Things such as receiving a sympathy card when a loved one has passed away, being brought a prepared dish that someone made just for you – even a personal phone call can be equally as significant. In this day and age, if someone thinks enough of you to pick up the phone and call you – you’re special. Know that you actually have meaning and worth to them.
Each and every act of kindness and concern I was shown during the past few weeks humbled me. It was, in fact, overwhelmingly humbling. If knowing that people are thinking kind thoughts about you isn’t humbling to us as an individual, then I’d be stumped as to what is. It’s just that black and white to me.
My dear mother called me a couple times each day, so worried. Even now, I so wish I could have kept that worry from her. My dad and daughter were very concerned. Keith’s sweet sister called me every day, too. Keith was, of course, an invaluable help with everything. I received many phone calls, visits, texts and emails from various friends, family, neighbors, coworkers and blogging buddies. Another coworker had chocolate strawberries shipped to my house. The day I came back to work, three pressmen in our shop had bought flowers and had a sign sitting on my desk welcoming me back.
Humbling, I tell you. Looking back on it brings tears to my eyes just writing about it. So I got to thinking… maybe I really should try harder not to worry about what people think of me. I feel the love.
I love soft drinks. Not just any soft drinks – in particular Diet Coke and Diet Dr. Pepper. As bad as I hate to admit, I consume an overwhelming amount of them. I’ll go so far as to say it’s a big part of my daily life. Because I adore both brands equally, I consume each in equal amounts – adding to my list of many quirks.
For many years, it’s been my morning coffee, my ‘get through the morning’ pacifier, my lunch drink, ditto the afternoon pacifier and into the evening. If my stockpile goes below two 6-packs of bottles (I prefer cans though lately bottles have been more economical) I get anxious and start thinking about natural catastrophes and being caught without them. It’s a must to have them cold – if my current one dips above what I consider to be cold enough, it makes a temporary trip to the freezer and out comes a new one. POOF! Cold once again. Life is good.
I’m starting to classify this as one of many addictions I may have in life.
After being told for years that I need to cut back, I believe I’ve been in denial. In my experience, denial often spawns rebellion. I’ve ignored the old ‘put a rusty nail in a glass of coke and watch it eat the rust off’ and ‘pour a glass of coke on battery acid to eat the acid off’ fables. Well, I guess they’re not really fables.
This weekend, I came down with my very first bladder infection. I can report that it’s debut was not welcomed. The doc prescribed me some kick-butt antibods and after weathering the storm I’m feeling better now. I can only assume that since I’ve never had one, could it possibly have to do with the massive amounts of soda I consume every day? I’ve been almost three days without soft drinks, aside from an unconscious order of one for Mexican dinner out night last night (it really was habit – I didn’t even realize it until the waiter sat it down in front of me). I’m not even missing them that much. But I can still feel residual traces running through my veins – it’s gonna take awhile. When all is said and done, I still want to be able to enjoy one every now and then.
Does anyone else have a soft drink addiction?
I don’t usually wear my glasses except to watch tv, I simply find them to be a pain. Wednesday I got contacts. My vision is a bit unusual, at least to me it is. Most people I talk to can’t see up close. My close-up vision is great, it’s distance that’s been a problem for me for a while. The ability to drive down the road and actually see street signs, names of buildings and leaves on the trees – it’s almost as though I’ve been given a new gift.
The eye doctor suggested monovision. Since I don’t require any close-up correction (yet) this consists of wearing only one contact that treats my primary eye for distance, while the other eye remains contact-less to maintain the close-up vision. Not only could I not comprehend the sense in this,
I felt like I couldn’t I didn’t want to do it. I ended up wearing both contacts and life seemed grand – until I looked down at my phone. I couldn’t see a thing, even to return a text!
Long story short, I’ve been forced into monovision. They tell me it’ll take 2-3 weeks for my eyes to adjust and start playing together nicely again. I really hope this happens soon, because right now I’m struggling to focus on anything. In my line of work seeing up close is a must, and I refuse to go buy a pair of readers. I feel that’s contradictory to my reasoning for contacts – I want to ditch the glasses.
Even though I understand the concept, just wearing one contact makes me feel like I’m only doing half a job – or like I’m incomplete. It’s a weird feeling!
You’re never too old to be taught a lesson. In my forty-three years, I have never been bitten by an animal. Never. I’ve been bitten by plenty of insects, and I can even throw a boyfriend or two in the mix. But never an actual animal bite.
So am I just good like that? Absolutely not – I’m just lucky and trust me I know this. The past couple of days have been a heartache for my mother and I.
An adolescent stray calico cat had taken up residence in mom’s yard for about three days. Let me say first that if I were a stray, I’d go to my mother’s back yard to live. Her yard is literally a Utopia – add the fact that she loves animals and it’s a win-win for the stray. Both of us were trying to find the cat which she called Callie a home. Two days ago, I dropped by her house to see her on the way home from work. Sure enough, the little thing jumped right up in my lap the moment I went outside and sat down. It was obvious by how tame she was that someone had likely dumped her out. Oh how I hate that – our pets should not be disposable.
For the next 20 minutes or so, I continued petting her as she nuzzled her head and made biscuits like cats do. Mom even got a movie of her doing this, she just melted our hearts. Lo and behold, for whatever reason something spooked her – and within less than a second she had bitten my hand and was back down on the ground. She got me good, too – all four incisors made puncture wounds. It took until later that night to get the bleeding to subside.
Since the cat was a stray, Mom had to make the dreaded decision of letting animal control take custody of her, where she’ll be held in quarantine for ten days to monitor for rabies. With us both being animal lovers, it’s really taken it’s toll on us. Mom had already gotten attached to the little thing. As for myself – I feel very responsible for what will likely be certain death for the cat. I’m told I shouldn’t, but so far it’s not something I’ve been able to shake off.
Mom went through so much crap yesterday just to get to the right source – that’s a perk of living in a big city, everything is automated with call-backs. Cops here don’t even come out to car break-ins anymore to take a report. We both had to meet with animal control to file the report and let them see the bite. Today, I’ve already gotten two calls from city workers at the health department ensuring I took the right steps. I held my breath as I answered what I recognize to be ‘city prefix numbers’ – afraid it might be a positive on the rabies, or at the least a call to come in for the shots. I felt compelled to immediately insert a line about having my own doctor who was aware of the situation (done as I hear this little voice screaming inside my head… ‘nooo, you can’t make me!!’).
My most recently learned lesson… don’t pet strays.
Though not from lack of trying, I’m unable to throw this virus or whatever it is. This is one time I didn’t go running to the doctor after a day or two of an obviously kickass whatever-it-is set in. It’s now officially a day over two weeks and I’m still left with a chest full of something – the difference is that everything has tightened up now. No good. I decided yesterday to made a doc appointment for this afternoon, so I’ll see what’s going on then. At this point anything will be an improvement!
I am Bon… I am Frontierwoman, hear me roar. I’ve had no power since about 1am this morning. The piedmont had winds up to 90mph wisk through the area last night, and currently over 250M people and 30 schools are without power. Stop lights are out everywhere, power lines are down and traffic is mayhem. Trying to get ready for work by candlelight this morning was hilarious — honestly I think I’d have done better in the dark.
Seriously, it’s the little things. Like power. And working in peace. Well, maybe those aren’t such little things…
I’ve had much rest this past holiday season. The joy has been tremendous and the stress very minimal. However, even a beautiful post-holiday beach vacation to bring in the New Year isn’t enough to keep the blood pressure level in check for ole’ Bon. Apparently the second med that was added a couple of weeks ago was an Epic Fail. In lieu of waiting for that one month follow-up visit, I called Doc up yesterday morning. After another failed attempt on acquiring correct triage information between 4-5 phone conversations throughout the day, the last of the conversations went something like this.
Medical Assistant: Dr. Yadada has faxed in a new prescription that’s waiting for you at Your-Pharmacy, USA – you are to immediately quit your current bp meds and replace with this new ‘combination’ prescription.
Bon: What, a combination? So he said to cease taking the blah-blah? Wait – does this new ‘combination’ rx contain a beta-blocker, like the blah-blah I’ve been on for thirteen years?
Medical Assistant: I’m not sure.
Bon: I don’t think Dr. Yadada would just pull me off a beta-blocker which I’ve been on for thirteen years that’s pertinent to my survival. Just the last visit, he told me I’ll be on this one for the rest of my life. Think you could double-check with him?
Medical Assistant: Hmm… from what he said I’m thinking he meant come off of all your prior bp meds and immediately replace with this new one that’s a combo.
Bon: *Shock* Well, what’s the name of it, I’ll see if I can look it up.
Medical Assistant: I don’t really (really??) have access to that, as I don’t work in clinical.
(NOTE: ‘I don’t work in clinical’ most likely translates to ‘I don’t know what the f**k I’m talking about medically’. The title Medical Assistant assigned to her by yours truly is more than likely a very generous title.)
Bon: Look lady. One day off the beta-blocker could literally mean a stroke or worse for me. This is my LIFE we’re talking about here. I don’t want to hear what ‘you’re thinking’. I want to know what HE’S thinking.
Medical Assistant: Okay Ms. (cough-cough) Bitch, I’ll see if I can reach him again and verify if not all, which rx you are to replace with the new one.
You can probably guess the outcome. I was to remain on my beta-blocker and the new ‘combination’ one was once again an addition. It took the remainder of the day for me to calm down from this little ditty. With competent souls like this getting paid to look after your healthfare, will someone please tell me who the heck needs enemies?
Been feeling junky for the past few days, mainly my throat. Since I wanted to make sure I was well for Christmas I decided to pay a visit to the doc yesterday after work. I’m glad I did.
My blood pressure was once again off the charts, and it turns out it was high the last time I was there too. Yesterday it was 151/100, and I had been there for a while so it’s not like I’d just walked in out of a traffic jam. Stage 2 hypertension is not something I feel I should have since I’ve been managed by a beta blocker many years now, but I guess it happens. Sooo, now I get to be on two medicines for bp. I’m just glad it was caught.
My ever-wise daughter: “Oh my gosh, Mom! You have GOT to be more peaceful and calm down. You need to try some relaxation techniques. Meditate. It really does work! Just sit in candle light and do some really deep breathing for 10 minutes every night. You can’t keep being so wound up!”
I got a quick visual of myself getting stuck in a pretzel position, and it struck a funny bone in me. Then I got to thinking maybe she’s actually onto something. Honestly, I know she is. Stop being so wound up. Don’t sweat the petty things. Don’t pet the sweaty things. Yeah, that’s it! Here’s an old dog trying to learn a new trick again… I’ll be sure let ya know how that works out for me.
About two and a half years ago, I lost twenty pounds. I found that success really can be achieved the good old-fashioned way – via eating healthy and exercising my tail off. I worked extremely hard for every pound, and kept it off for a year. I felt better than I ever had felt before – my blood pressure had leveled out and I was even trying to talk my doctor into weaning me off the beta blocker I’ve been on since age 32. Over the past year and a half, I’ve gained twenty five pounds (there should be a heavy black font for that because the bold one just doesn’t cut it). Twenty-five pounds. That’s the equivalent of ‘all that and a bag o’ chips’. No excuses.
Once again, I’ve taken on the difficult task of eating right and exercising – although it’s taken me twenty-five pounds to get to this point. What makes it so difficult to re-acquire that motivation, and why did I lose it in the first place? Anyway, I think I might’ve found it again and only hope it isn’t temporary. I dusted the cobwebs off my treadmill and have since put a couple of miles on it. I weighed in early this morning and was happy to see that I’ve lost two pounds – yay me! Now to just keep it going. I’ve done this once – but something in me relaxed, or something… exercising came to an abrupt halt and my eating habits turned from healthy to down right horrible. Failing so miserably in my endeavor makes me feel awful about myself. I’ve simply GOT to be successful at this, and keep it off this time.
The keys for me are a) weekend management and b) not feeling cheated. If I feel cheated, I’ve proven time and again that I’ll rebel. This is actually the perfect time of year to head to the mountains for a hike… hey, great idea. We survived last nights tornadic storms, and the forecast for the weekend looks optimal…
As of 1848 Monday night… Dad’s out of surgery and doing absolutely wonderful. Just spoke with him (so great to hear his voice) and he was talking up a storm. They brought his dinner in while we were talking and he was oh-so-excited to eat, said he was starving. Apparently the surgery took longer than they originally thought, unfortunately I don’t know any of the details yet on it. All in all though, he sounds like he is doing super. Thanks to all for the prayers sent up for him!! God is so very good.
Blessings to all. ♥♥
As of last night, Dad’s surgery is supposed to take place some time today. He’s been hospitalized again ever since last Thursday after a brief night of hell at home. I’m hoping they can go ahead and get this thing taken care of so he can get back home, recover, and go back to living his life. He told me last night that he knows this whole thing has been a mess – to which I replied it certainly isn’t his fault. That’s the kind of man he is though, always worried about inconveniencing others.
My aunt (Dad’s sister) is on her way up to Durham this morning to be with him post-surgery and get him back home, as he could be released as soon as tomorrow. I always feel like they release you too soon. Now I know I’m no doctor, but I’ve seen this happen far too many times to even count. People being released that can’t even walk, change their dressing, etc. – sometimes resulting in even more emergency care. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out it’s all about insurance and the money part. In any case, my thoughts and prayers will be with him today and I’ll be sure to give an update as soon as I know something!
Everyone here has been so kind with your thoughts and prayers, and I want you to know it means the world to me – and to Dad. 🙂
What a mess. Poor Dad is back to being transported to the Durham VA hospital. Yesterday the Charlotte hospital had released him to go home when they learned he wouldn’t be getting the surgery done with them, and when Durham learned of the release (and also of his life vest continually attempting to go off and shock the ever-loving #%*! out of him) they advised him he was not safe at home and instead needed to be there.
I’m hoping to get a phone call from him when he gets to his destination, poor fella’s gotta be wore slap out since I heard he hasn’t slept since Wednesday night. Preliminary schedule for surgery is still late in the week next week, and we’re all hoping that date’ll improve. I know he so appreciates the prayers.
Dad was supposed to have surgery this morning at 10:30. A lot happened yesterday that changed that.
It started with a phone call from the cardiovascular VA hospital in Durham. Now, I’m not gonna call out any names of hospitals that have most currently been involved with his care, but the cardiovascular team that is familiar with him in Durham were livid about a few things. For one, a more risky (to say the least) procedure was scheduled for this morning – one that could’ve ended up in open-heart surgery. Secondly, Durham could not believe that his defibrillator had been deactivated since Monday, and he was not fitted with a life vest (I wasn’t aware of what one was until yesterday). A life vest in medical terminology is basically a defibrillator within a vest. The question was asked, ‘but he’s in a hospital and being monitored – if anything happened, they’d be right there anyway’. Durham’s response was, ‘by the time a team got into his room with the proper equipment, a minimum of 2.5-3 minutes would have passed – would you really want to chance that time lapse?’ Guess I never thought about it like that…
Needless to say, Dad made the decision to go to Durham instead. The two teams (Durham and Charlotte) disagreed on his options, and in the end Durham was able to offer him more options as to the types of procedures for this most delicate position he’s in. They were going to transport him by ambulance the 3+ hour trip – but the surgery couldn’t be scheduled immediately so that wasn’t needed. The Charlotte hospital released him to go home (with life vest in tow) to await the surgery scheduling in Durham. Until then, I’m sure he’s glad to be home for a brief time – and I’m willing to bet his little dog Pedro most certainly agrees.
My sweet Daddy is in the hospital again. He called me at work yesterday, and when my coworker said “it’s your father on the phone” I immediately knew something was up since he never calls me at work.
Several years back, we almost lost him. In fact, did lose him twice on the operating table, and God brought him back. Okay, I’ll give props to the doctors too – but their handiwork was lead solely and completely by our Lord’s will. Period.
It all started out with having a bad heart for years. Then came the respiratory ailments, which escalated into pneumonia then finally a terrible abscess in one of his lungs. The docs tried for months on end to clear it up to no avail – finally the decision was made to remove most of the lung. He was so very sick by this point, they didn’t give a good prognosis for the outcome of the operation. It was, in fact, grim. He came through the operation with multiple complications and they ended up having to go BACK in months later and get the rest of the lung. It frustrated me that he had to go through all that twice, the second time harder because it was a second go-round – I still wonder why it just wasn’t all done at one time. The recovery time it took for him amazed me, he’s just a trooper and loves life so much that nothing seems to keep him down.
In between all this, the heart issue had to be addressed as well. Dad was given a pacemaker/defibrillator amidst all the lung issues. I don’t know if any of you are aware of what’s called “Ejection Fraction” (Ef). This is the medical terminology that refers to the fraction of blood pumped out of ventricles with each heart beat. Your heart circulates blood through two separate systems. The two chambers on top (atriums) are the receiving stations for your blood. The two lower chambers (ventricles) are pumping stations. When the left ventricle contracts, forcing blood out into the body, it’s called “ejection” since it is “ejecting” the blood out into your arteries. Since the big pumper on the lower left is the one that pushes blood throughout your body, that is where they usually measure heart function – the left ventricle. That’s the “ejection” part. The “fraction” part is because that pumping chamber (the left ventricle) never quite manages to pump out all the blood inside it – there’s always a little bit left behind that lies around waiting for the next contraction. The amount your left ventricle does pump out per beat is called the “ejection fraction”. It’s X% (the amount pumped out) of the total amount of blood in the ventricle per heart beat. If your heart pumps out 55% or more of the blood in your left ventricle on each beat, you have good heart function. When it falls below 55%, you’re slipping. My Dad’s was 15%. Believe it or not, it can improve over time. If I remember correctly, at the last reading he had gotten back up to 25%, maybe even higher – my memory eludes me so I’ll have to ask him.
Back to the pacemaker/defibrillator. Most of us are aware of the pacemaker’s purpose, which is to regulate the heartbeat. You can adjust the pacemaker so that it can be suitable for either the top or bottom heart chambers or both, depending on what type of pacemaker it is and the needs of the patient. It also will only work if it is needed, it doesn’t work all the time. An implanted defibrillator is a larger device. It is there to prevent death from a cardiac arrest. The device shocks the heart if it needs to be shocked, because of a life-threatening rhythm disturbance from the lower chambers of the heart. It can correct this rhythm. Because it has a pacemaker built into it, a defibrillator also has the capability of stimulating the heart like a pacemaker, to help stop fast rhythms, at times, and to prevent the heart from getting too slow. Okay, I know I’m being long-winded on this (pardon the pun).
When Dad originally had the device implanted, it wasn’t long at all (2007) before they made the startling discovery that his was one of Medtronics pacemaker/defibrillator devices that had bad ‘leads’ in it. Sure enough, it was only discovered after the device went on a rampage and violently ‘shocked’ Dad continually for almost 24 full hours. I cannot imagine the trauma of enduring this. They ended up replacing the leads, I believe, shortly after this happened.
You can view a short video here on the history of the malfunctioning leads. Pretty darned interesting. Medtronics Defibrillator Video on bad leads
The reason he’s back in the hospital? The hospital called him back yesterday morning, and said the leads are once again malfunctioning… and for him to get to the hospital asap. Right now, they’re unsure which gameplan they’re going to take – currently two different procedures are being decided on. The outcome will depend on several factors, decided by the test results from later today.
Like I said before, he’s a trooper and a champ! He’s been riding his new bike (tryke) for several months now and enjoying it immensley. He’ll get back on it and go back to life as usual before I know it. He’s honestly the biggest lover of life that I know, and loves our precious Lord so very dearly. Any and all prayers will be so appreciated. Many blessings to all!
I did it, I did it… and it’s finally over. The nervousness, anxiousness everything’s over. Mine offending tooth beith gone. History. Outta here. See ya.
It took the dentist between 20-25 minutes to get that bad-boy outta there… the words stressful and traumatic just don’t quite do the job of describing it. But this dentist is nothing short of awesome, and he made that time span as easy as possible on me. He did a great job, the tooth just obviously wasn’t ready to go anywhere. Eight or so stitches later, I’m good to go. What commercial had that it in initially… Taco Bell?
Good to go.
Mmmmm, I want some Taco Bell. Maybe this weekend.
I don’t know what I expect out of life sometimes. Vague? Yes.
I have always had health insurance, but as of the past 5.5 years I have not had dental. Not only do I miss having it, but the older I get I’m beginning to feel the repercussions of being without it. I’m seriously going to have to look into getting a personal policy since it’s not a benefit my employer offers.
All those years I did have dental, I guess I took the benefits for granted. I always took advantage of the bi-annual cleanings. When I did need something done, I’d often bitch about the $50 deductible per year, or the 20% I’d have to pay of the remainder of the bill. Believe me, I won’t do that anymore.
So yesterday I got to experience how a person might be made to feel that doesn’t have health insurance. I had to be the only person in the dentist office at the time that didn’t have dental insurance. Upon noticing the raised eyebrows and looks of pity, I was ready to split the joint and go hide under a rock somewhere.
The ‘doctor’ proceeded to suggest all these wonderful procedures that would need to be performed in order to save the tooth.
Dentist: You will need a root canal, yada yada yada, yada yada, then a crown. Yada yada.
Bon: (yeah yeah, finish your schpill lady… I don’t have two thousand plus dollars to save the tooth, I just want the damn thing out and be rid of my pain) Well, doctor – the thing is, I am without dental insurance and this tooth has hurt me for upwards of six months now, I need some relief. The pain is tremendous.
Dentist (with not-so-convincing look of pity): You know, there is a free dental clinic in insert-town-here, USA.
Bon: Excuse me?? (shock) Uh, no. I am fully prepared to pay YOU to remove the tooth. I am not in need of the services of a free clinic. (more shock)
Now, I was still in my office clothes as I came to this place straight from work. I did not have straggly hair, and I do not have teeth missing. I am carrying a designer purse and I am wearing Born shoes. I am not telling you this for any reason other than to say that my appearance should not have made me fall into the homeless or meth-addict category.
I didn’t go there for a root canal, yada yada yada, and a crown… I went there to get the offending tooth extracted. It’s that simple, really. But, since I didn’t have the necessary money (or supporting policy) to afford all the work they would like to do in order to line their own pockets, I seemed to weigh a lot less on their scales of importance. I’m sorry – that’s just how I see it. Free clinics are not going to jump through hoops to ‘save a tooth’. I feel pretty certain they don’t do many if any root canals, and crowns? Well I think not.
If you’ve ever had a free clinic suggested to you, then you know how it makes you feel. If you haven’t, let me assure you that it doesn’t do much to lift you up.
What a beautiful weekend it’s been. Today K’s family is coming over to swim and cook out (his brother, sister, and their families). After that, I’ll have pretty much had my pool fix for a while.
Off to the grocery store since we exhausted what little supplies we had left yesterday. We’re even out of ketchup. No homemade anything by Bon today, there’s not enough time.
Yesterday was my clutz day. Ever have one of those days where everything you touch or make contact with results in some sort of accident or injury? That was my day yesterday. I’m hoping today will be different in that area – but since I’ve already stumped my toe at 9:30am, that hope is rapidly diminishing. Wish me luck – and remember, no news is good news.
Well, I’ve gone and done it this time. How I did it is anyone’s guess. I’ve battled it for a little over a week now but instead of improving, said condition is deteriorating quickly. If I were to diagnose myself, I would say I have a pinched nerve in my lower neck / upper left back. But who am I?
I’ve said many times I will not go to a doctor for this because I know the first thing he’ll want is an MRI. Seeing things from an orthopedic surgeon’s view, I do understand the reasoning for an MRI. However, since my deductibles have risen on my insurance from 500 to 1,000, the amount of money they’ll require beforehand is completely undoable. Period. So no MRI. The pain at work today was excruciating, there is nothing at all I can do for relief – and so my hand was forced. I made the appointment.
The doctor I’m seeing has seen me before on a couple of occasions in past years, so I’m not a complete stranger there. I hope to get some sort of relief or ‘answer’… although my medical history is such that an actual diagnosis rarely never happens. Aside from a lone pregnancy test coming back positive 20+ years ago, everything medical in my life (I’m recounting as I write) has been inconclusive. Hell that should be my word of the day.
I hate complaining… furthermore I hate chronic complainers. They’re not only no fun to be around / work with / be friends of / have the misfortune of being your partner, but to me it gets stale real fast. No one wants to be around someone who is constantly moaning about their ailments, let’s face it. We want to be associated with ‘upbeat’ people. Ones who make us laugh, bring out the best in our own personalities. That person used to be me. Simply put – I’ve gotta get my life back.
I know there’s been enough of the sappy talk as of lately, with me being so in love and all. But what the hell, it’s my blog, and it’s what I want to write about. Right?
And as if right on cue… a Rascal Flatts song starts playing on the radio.
First off, gotta get a bitch session in about how sick I seriously still am. Instead of moving forward, I’m inching backward. Been up since early hours of the am with what I now officially know to be a sinus infection. Feels something like a damn brain aneurysm every time I blow my super-plugged-up nose, and the pain is excruciating. Gotta call the doc this morning. I only hope for his sake he doesn’t request me to come back in there for another visit co-payment, because I will seriously blow if that happens. Hell I just want to be semi-well for my daughter’s college graduation Saturday, which is now just 3 short days away.
Ah, nice… Diamond Rio now plays – What a Beautiful Mess I’m In. Take a big breath Bon. Breathe in deep through that stopped-up nose, all the way down through those rattly lungs of yours. And Don’t Forget To Smile Big.
My guy comes over last night with more meds for his sickly little girlfriend. I was the recipient of stroking and petting all night long while I was so miserable. He constantly massaged my forehead and face, legs and back, never tiring. With each new day I love him more, it amazes me still. Everything about him is so very precious. I could never have asked for a man as good as he, and yes – I do realize how very lucky I am.
In closing, I have to share a link to my Mother’s blog this morning, because for one I love her writing – and two, it is very much what it says… Deep. Go to Linda’s Blog
It’s a rarity that I feel so horrible the thought of writing a blog sickens me, but that’s been the case these past few days. I’ve been dealing with a real ass-kicker of a virus. I haven’t been sick in a very very long time, which is something I like to brag about and even bask in – but alas that tenure is OVER. Enter Sandman…errr, the Sore Throat Virus. Or should I call it the Razorblade Throat Virus. Yeah, that works better.
I woke up in the wee hours of Thursday morning in a cold clammy sweat, and immediately took note of the fact that I could not swallow. Now I’ve dealt with a sore throat many times in my life, including a few times this spring with the high pollen count. But this one was somehow different. Let’s just say after forty-two years you should know your body well enough to know when something’s amiss. I went on to work and grudgingly performed my duties, but I felt this crud progressing as the day went on. The girls in my office were getting tired of hearing me groan and complain, I know. But ya know – if you feel shitty, you just feel shitty. Everybody deals with it in their own way.
By the time I got off yesterday, I literally tore outta there to get home – not passing go, not collecting $200. My guy and I had cancelled our plans for the night earlier, so I just tried to rest on the bed for a while. By the time nightfall hit on Thursday night, you-know-what hit. The godforbidden diarrhea D word. To the bathroom, over and over. Then came chills so bad no amount of blankets on me would make them go away. Although I don’t have a thermometer, I knew that spelled fever. Laid on the couch like a zombie through three hours of tv – which is totally not me. I rarely SIT on my couch, much less lay on it – and I also watch very little tv. Trying to sleep Thursday night was the worst – my throat had gotten past the point of not being able to swallow. Each time I had to do it, was literally like swallowing razors… so it made me cry every time I swallowed. I was up hour on the hour gargling with warm salt water.
FF to Friday morning. I knew I had no choice other than to make that dreaded call in to work. I’m never out and everyone knows this – but this still doesn’t help cure that little feeling inside of what are people thinking of me. I’ve never been able to change that, and sometimes hate myself for it. Early Friday about 4 am, I shined a flashlight down my throat. I was totally grossed out by what I saw in the mirror, and at that moment I knew I had to see a doc. My tonsils were so enlarged and inflamed that they were each the size of a gumball. It’s no wonder I couldn’t effing swallow! Got to the doc at eleven, which he immediately said WOW when he saw my throat, then informed me it looked ‘guilty’ of strep. He almost bypassed the rapid test and just treated me with penicillin, but then decided to go ahead and do the test when I overheard he and his nurse talking in the corrider outside the room.
Nurse: I think it’s viral.
Doc: No, all the signs of strep are present: the swelling, redness, fever…
Nurse : okay… but I was right on the last one, let’s see if I’m right on this one…
Sure enough, the rapid test came back negative, the doc was wrong. I know he was hatin’ life on that one. Hell I hate to say it but I almost wanted it to be strep, since I’d already talked the doc into the hip-shot of penicillin that makes you feel immediately better. So… since it wasn’t strep and was viral, I got to bounce drag my ass outta there with nothing but an rx of numbing mouthwash. Hoo–WAH. I came home and changed, called work, my mother, my guy and texted my babygirl. Next thing you know, here comes K over with a bagfull of medicines. You name it, throat lozenges, Chloraseptic spray, Ibuprofen and Coriceden nighttime rest meds – sooo sweet. Knocked myself out after he left (literally) and slept a little over three hours. Knocked myself out again Friday night with the nighttime cold med and here I am, ten hours of sleep later… feeling a little better. Mindset is better, if nothing else. Throat still sore, but it’s not like the razor blade feeling from days past.
I think there’s hope after all.