I have been overwhelmed by the comments, emails and real life conversations I've had since my last post. Writing it all out helped me see things a bit more clearly and realize that yes, this funk has gone on much too long. I've been in funks before but always managed to pull myself out of it. Not this time, though, so tomorrow I'll go see my internist and tell her all about how I've been feeling - or not feeling as the case may be - and go from there.
There's a tremendous relief that comes with finally making this decision. Though why do I feel as though this is a sign of weakness? I think I have some pride issues going on. I don't see depression as a weakness in others. Why should it be that way for me? Just one more thing I need to get over.
Do you think if she puts me on a mild antidepressant I'll all of a sudden have the desire and energy to clean my home from top to bottom, eat only healthy food and crave exercise?
***
Several weeks ago I made the 32-And-Below rule. The 32-And-Below rule says that I will only drive the kids to the bus stop and let them sit in the warm car if it's 32 degrees or colder. Last week they were a bit bummed because it was above freezing. The last several mornings, however, have been in the low 20's. I told Todd, "Man! I should have said single digits only!" Too late for that now, though.
Saturday night Taylor and his friend went camping. I told him it was going to be really cold that night and asked if he packed appropriately. "Yeah, Mom. I'm good." Short of going through his bag I had to take him at his word.
Nick dropped him off Sunday morning and he told us how he nearly froze to death the night before. Nick had a warm quilted sleeping bag and wool socks. Taylor had his regular nylon sleeping bag and cotton socks. He slept with his hoodie on and the hood tied down around his face as far as it would go.
You know, I hate to say, "I told you so." Oh, who am I kidding? I LOVE to say, "I told you so." Maybe next time he'll listen to his mama!
Yeah. Mother of the Year is now officially a distant dream.
I am usually proud of the fact that I'm pretty laid back and don't let things stress me out too much. But to say I never stress out would be such a lie. This week, for example, has pushed me nearly to the breaking point. This morning all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed with the covers over my head and cry until I fell asleep. But who has time for such behaviors?
Todd has had a crazy insane travel schedule since the beginning of the year. Every week he's been somewhere other than home. Not the norm for his job which I'm very glad for, but it's made for a less than great January and February.
I've always had admiration and sympathy for single parents, but that admiration and sympathy has grown ten-fold. Both the kids are involved in their school plays, Katie acting in the 8th grade play and Taylor doing stage crew in the high school play. Unfortunately, their practice schedules are not compatible with each other. If it weren't for my friend, Kris, picking up Katie and Shelby (Kris' daughter) on the late nights I think I truly would be insane by now.
So not only am I working all day and then running the kids here or there, Sookie is now sick. Poor baby. She has another fever virus or something. So far they've run blood work and it all came back good except for a high white blood count, but they have no idea why she's running the fever. I'm boiling her chicken and trying to get her to drink water and take pills and watch her every time she goes outside to make sure she's still taking care of her business. Between my worry for her - she hasn't shown much in the way of improvement since Monday - and the thought of whatever tests they're going to run if we have to take her back in that we can't really afford right now, I'm stressed.
Which brings me to last night. Cleaning out the refrigerator, I poured two small containers of old spaghetti noodles down the garbage disposal. All of a sudden gross water started filling up the sink. When I'd try to turn on the disposal it would make a funny noise and water would come back up into the sink. I had all manner of disgusting things sitting out on the counter that I couldn't get rid of because the sink was backed up. I was afraid to run the dishwasher and again, the cost of a plumber made me want to curl up into the fetal position and rock back and forth while gazing without focusing into the corner.
I finally just left it, ignoring the stuff all over the place. I decided I'd go to bed early and work on it in the morning. But Taylor was working on a project and needed my help with the printer so I didn't get to bed as early as I had hoped to.
This morning I called the garbage disposal people and the lady tried to walk me through checking the disposal. She told me to plug up the other side of the sink and plunge the drain slowly. I tried. Disgusting, chunky water splashed up all over me. So it was decided I needed a plumber. I called my neighbor, Laura, to see if she could recommend a plumber and her husband, Bill, answered the phone. He ended up coming down and took the pipes apart.
Guess what we found! Scads of chopped up spaghetti packed in the pipes from the disposal to the elbow. He cleaned them out, put everything back together and voila! I have a working sink again!
Since I didn't have to wait around on a plumber today I was able to make it to my biannual oncology appointment. It was such a nonevent. Blood pressure - good. Blood work - good. Everything else - good. Every time I go I think to myself, "The next time I'll weigh X-amount of pounds lighter." It hasn't come true yet. In fact, I weigh more every single time. That's bad! But nobody there seems to care. They tell me I look great which probably has more to do with the fact I was seriously the only person in there under 80 today.
In the grand scheme of things I don't have much to be stressed out about. But all of it adds up and I think I'm doing fine until just one more thing and then I snap. As of this moment I don't have anywhere I have to go after I get the kids from play practice at 5:30. (One of the only nights they actually had it at the same time). Hopefully Sookie's medicine will start to kick in and she'll show marked improvement by tomorrow. Maybe I'll even get the kitchen cleaned up. And before I know it Saturday will be here and I can sleep in and Todd will be around to help run people to their places and Saturday night we'll go hang out with the neighbors for wine club and all will be right in my world again.
And before somebody asks - no, I haven't been praying for patience. I learned not to do that a LOOOONG time ago. :o)
I had my yearly female exam today. Don't worry. I'm not going to go into great detail about it. I just wanted to share two things with you.
1 - I spied the enemy, the scale, as the nurse and I approached the place where she would take my vitals. I'd been dreading that part of the visit for weeks. But instead of asking me to step on the scales, she asked if I knew my weight. I was so shocked that I actually told her the truth! After I thought, Man! I should have told her 115!
2 - Check out the picture I took while I was waiting for the doctor.
That is some funny stuff!! The doctor told me one of the nurses "decorates" the exam rooms. In November the stirrups had turkeys. Almost makes me want to go back in February and see if there are hearts.
As soon as I got in the car I had to send Todd the photo. He called shortly thereafter and said he wasn't sure which was more disturbing. Santa on the stirrups or the fact I'd take a picture of it.
It doesn't seem like much has been going on and yet I have lots to share. And I know how much you all are dying to know the happenings of my life. *snort*
UPDATE ON TODD
Hearken back to Monday's post where I mentioned Todd's virtual forehead tattoo which says If It Can Go Wrong It Will. And as I said in Tuesday's post, the surgery may not have gone the best way, but it still went very well. Now let me fill you in on the rest of the week.
On Wednesday the oral surgeon called just to check on Todd and said he was probably at the peak of swelling so most likely it was pretty painful but he should have considerable relief by the next day. Not so. We went back in to the office on Thursday because the pain actually seemed to be getting worse. Or if not worse, at least different and as intense. Turns out he has a hematoma which is painful enough in itself. But it's also pressing on the nerve that runs in the jaw, causing excruciating pain and strange numbness. So they upped his pain medication and told him to come back on Friday. There was no change on Friday so they also prescribed Naprosin to help with the swelling and Valium to help with the muscle spasms caused by the nerve disturbance.
Did I not tell you If It Can Happen It Will? This is really par for the course for poor Todd. And sadly for him I am way low on the compassion scale. I'm the one that tells the kid with the gaping wound, "It's just a scratch! Rub some dirt in it, you pansy!" Not really. I've never said that or even thought it. But still, I was probably off chatting with someone and didn't hear my name called when God was passing out the gift of compassion.
Thankfully he's starting to get a little relief. It's still pretty painful, but nothing like it was. And Katie has stopped calling him John McCain because the swelling has gone down so there is that. We go back to the surgeon for his regular follow up tomorrow and hopefully things will be as they should be.
CHURCH
Apparently there weren't enough people who came to the new 8:00 service to make it worth it so they've gone back to only three services. Today I went to the 11:30 service like I used to and it was awesome! It's the service that most of the youth goes to so there's a ton of energy. Of course, it helps that I'm actually awake and have been sufficiently caffeinated. We also sang You Lifted Me Out by Chris Tomlin. Awesome, awesome song!
CHANGE IN STATUS
I've been thinking about going back to work after more than 13 years of being at home. This is an entire post in itself so I won't go into detail here, but I am starting to explore some job possibilities. I'm thankful I have the luxury to be a little picky and I know I won't work full time. Tomorrow I'll be chatting with someone about a potential position and we'll see. She may decide I'm not the right person or I might decide it's not the right job. I just pray I follow God's will in this and not my own.
REVOLVE 2008
This weekend was the Philadelphia Revolve Tour and our girls attended for the third year in a row. It was the first year, however, that I did not go. I was a little sad because it's such an incredible experience - not just for the teen girls, but for the women that take them as well. However, as I lay on the couch half asleep Friday night I decided it was a good thing I didn't go.
When I picked up Katie yesterday evening I felt loved by several of the girls who had hugs for me and told me they missed me. Whether or not they meant it or were just being nice, I don't care. It was very sweet.
If you have a preteen or teenage girl I highly recommend Revolve. It's an experience they're not likely to forget for a long time.
Taylor went with me to pick up Katie because he desired a little one on one with me on the way to the church and he missed his little sister tremendously. Oh, and because he would get to see Kristen for a couple of minutes. That may have had something to do with it. On our way home Katie was talking a mile a minute and finally Taylor said, "If talking was an Olympic sport you would bring home the gold in every.single.category! You can sprint and run the distance, all at the same time!" Truer words were never said.
Thanks for your well wishes and prayers on Todd's behalf. There's good news and bad news. The good news is the anesthesia didn't make him sick. This was a huge concern for him because he used to get retchedly ill on general anesthesia - not a pleasant thing when you've had oral surgery. But the medications have come so far that he didn't even feel nauseous.
The bad news is they weren't able to insert the implant yesterday. The root of the tooth was cracked and it fell apart as the surgeon attempted to extract it. Which means he had to dig around in there, resulting in: A) too much room for the implant; and B) a lot of pain and swelling.
What he did do is pack the socket with cadavar bone (Todd asked specifically for the bone of an elite athelete or musician) and cover it with a membrane. The bone will eventually fuse and in four months Todd goes back to have the implant inserted. Which leads me to more bad news - more money because only the extraction is covered by insurance and that was the cheapest part of the whole ordeal. But Taylor doesn't really have to go to college in two years so it's not such a big thing.
Todd's left jaw is swollen like a chipmunk's and he keeps doing his Don Corleon impression. He's in quite a bit of pain, but he still managed to go vote this morning.
Which leads me to my next subject - VOTING! (I couldn't have asked for a better segway!)
Yesterday on Good Morning America they showed early polling sites with waits as long as nine hours. We keep hearing the election is really up to Pennsylvania so I figured our lines would be terribly long. I told Todd we should pack a lunch, take lawn chairs and a cooler, maybe a small battery operated TV and coordinate with the neighbors for a Voting Line Party. Is there a law against voting after consuming margaritas?
We didn't take chairs, lunch, a cooler or a TV and we never talked to the neighbors. We DID take beverages and our books, though, and headed over there a little before 10:00. There was hardly a line at all and I think we were in and out in less than 30 minutes. A little disappointing after my thoughts of a party.
All kidding aside - I'm glad that's behind me. I'm tired of the phone calls, I'm tired of the ads, I'm tired of the arguments and the name calling and the half-truths and the ugliness of it all. I'm a little concerned about the outcome, but I will support whichever candidate wins wholeheartedly and pray for him and also his decisions for the next four years.
And for your viewing pleasure I leave you with a few pictures I took this morning from around the house and neighborhood...
Sookie (because how could I not post this picture?)
Looking down the winding street from our house.
Beautiful trees around the neighborhood.
A wasp nest on the ground.
Some blooms around the house.
The Bradford Pear is turning from the top down.
Our cherry tree. I can't wait to show you how beautiful it is in the spring!
A flaming bush finally looking flamey.
Our house is firmly in the NAGFP - the North American Goose Flight Pattern. I wasn't fast enough to get a picture of the hundreds, maybe thousands, of geese that flew over on Saturday. The noise was almost deafening. But I did manage to snap these this morning.
Toddy and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Todd is having oral surgery in about an hour. Not quite three years ago he had a root canal, post and crown in one of his lower molars. It never felt quite right and a week or so ago it was decided the root of the tooth is probably cracked. His dentist removed the crown and the post and today he goes to an oral surgeon to have the rest of the tooth removed and, hopefully, an implant inserted. After a few months he'll go in an have a crown applied to the implant.
The remaining root is very close to the nerve in the jaw and I've been praying - almost desperately - that the surgery goes smoothly and without incident. I know that's a pretty common prayer, but most of you guys don't know Todd. He used to have If It Can Go Wrong It Will tattooed on his forehead.
Not today, though. This morning he will go in, they'll blessedly knock him out, the root will come out, they'll insert the implant and BAM! He'll be all done. And any prayers to this end would be greatly appreciated.
And I'll be reading The Shack in the waiting room. (What!? This is my blog so I have to make it about me somehow!)
I feel like I've got nothing to say. "When have you ever let that stop you before?", you might be asking. And you're right! I've never let the absence of something to say stop me. So welcome to today's installment of Mundane Musings.
Remember a few weeks ago I was all pumped about starting Weight Watchers and I was going to take it one day at a time and yadda, yadda, blase' skippy? I did great for two weeks. Really awesome. Then there was a dinner and then a birthday and then another dinner and then a barbecue and then a movie AND a dinner and then, well, you get the idea. I've totally dropped the ball. Add to that trying to cut costs where we can and you have no more Weight Watchers' membership.
Like my sister said, why pay someone to tell her what she already knows. I still like the accountability and the tools Weight Watchers offers, but my actions are not making the money worth it. So I'm going to try this on my own and see what happens. I walked on the treadmill for 30 minutes this morning and hope to do another 30 minutes later today. I figure if I'm halfway careful about what I eat and do something for an hour a day then maybe, just maybe I'll be able to lose some of this.
This whole weight thing can make me very maudlin. (Maybe I should call today's installment Maudlin and Mundane Musings.) Again, it's all a matter of focus. When I focus on the fact my Fall weather clothes are tight and the image in the mirror and the discomfort while trying to tie the shoes, etc., I slip into that familiar funk. BUT when I focus on what really matters - my relationship with Christ - then it's not so bad. I'm sad to say my focus has been a little off. AGAIN. Thank God for my Home Team! They're like spiritual crack to the junky I am.
Which brings me to another musing. I've been busy going about God's business - working on the women's website for church. I LOVE it. I have so much to learn, but I'm having a blast. The challenge is exciting and watching this idea take shape is awesome.
That said, it's so easy for me to think I'm nurturing my spiritual life when I'm doing something like this - some type of service - or listening to Christian music or having deep discussions with friends or whatever. Those things are great in and of themselves, but you (read "I") can do these things and totally ignore God, fooling myself into thinking I'm doing what I need to.
Okay. So I guess that's a little confession for you I wasn't actually planning on making. Onto safer topics and more mundane...
Our weather is gorgeous. I love Fall. Seriously love it. Admire, adore, cherish, embrace, enamor, fancy, idolize, like and delight in autumn. I think we may be done with the 80's altogether. We may even be done with the upper 70's. Oh please, from my fingers to God's ears.
October is shaping up to be a busy but incredibly fun month. Something awesome in every single weekend. November will hopefully be a month of rest. Except my folks are coming to visit and we have a few fun things planned then, too.
Let's see. What else can I bore you with blog about? OH! Those of you who have been around a while may remember the mysterious skin issues I had the first half of 2007. I saw a couple different doctors and no biopsy, no test, no body could figure out what was wrong with me. Then the problem just kind of went away. Well, it's back. Thankfully not anything like it was last year, but I do get these terribly itchy welts in the same area for no apparent reason. They they just disappear. It's the craziest thing.
Alright. I think that's enough of nothing for now. But I leave you with pictures of Sookie and her BFF Brady. Brady comes over nearly every morning around 9:00 and they play for 30 minutes to an hour. Then they go home and take really good naps! Just like kids.
I got to see all my friends at the White Russian's office this morning. I was almost sad when he said, "Everything looks great! We don't need to see you for another six months." Not the, "everything looks great," part. The, "we don't need to see you for another six months," part.
I did something a little different today. When the nurse weighed me I didn't tell her I'd be much lighter the next time she saw me. I've said that every single time before and I think I just jinxed myself. So I didn't say it out loud, but I was definitely thinking it.
The doctor and I discussed changing from Arimidex to Femara because I do have a lot of joint and muscle stiffness, but after I'm up and about for a few minutes I loosen up. He thinks that could be residual from the Taxotere treatments I received nearly three years ago. I think it may have to do with the weight. Most likely it's a combination of a few things. Since my symptoms are not arthritic-type pains he doesn't think its the Arimidex so I'm still on that. Which I'm good with because I hate changing medications unless there's a really good reason.
And how funny is this. He walked in the examination room with a huge smile on his face and asked excitedly, "Are the kids in school yet?" It made me laugh and I answered in kind, "They went back on Monday!" Then I realized he doesn't get to ask that question very often. I know he has young patients, but I've never seen anyone close to my age in there. And I'm not really all that young.
Would you believe I purposely avoided going near Starbuck's today? I did. Swear and spit. And I didn't even miss it. I did take an alternate route home and that was kind of fun. I saw this tiny, little sign that said something about "historical" with an arrow so I followed it because I'm a major geek that way (she says geekily proud of the fact). I got lost. But I didn't mind because it's a gorgeous day, I had great tunes and the scenery was beautiful. I'm not exactly sure what the historical thing was, but I enjoyed myself and I knew eventually I'd come upon a road I thought I might possibly know. I did.
I would have loved to keep driving around, looking for more historical stuff (it's EVERYWHERE out here), but I had to come home and let Sookie out. She's been a little depressed this week with all her people gone so I had to show her some love. On a side note, she's getting awesome with a frisby! I'll try to get some pictures of her stealthy self jumping high to catch the disk later this week. Good stuff, Maynard.
Now I need to clean the house and do laundry. Ugh!
I think this may be one of the lamest posts ever. If you stuck it out, thanks for hanging with me til the end.
Yesterday was another pleasant drive into Philadelphia. Little traffic, not much in the way of frustrating drivers, great music and a Venti White Chocolate Mocha from the new drive-through Starbuck's I pass on the way to the freeway. I drove straight to Penn Tower and found a parking space without the least bit of trouble.
Since I had time to kill I headed up to the Rena Rowan Breast Center on the 14th floor to visit their boutique. I had read about these sisters, one a breast cancer survivor, who started a breast cancer boutique called Faith & Hope in Abington (a Philly suburb). I also read they sell some of their products at the Rena Rowan boutique.
The boutique is shaped a little like a horseshoe. You walk through the doors to see pretty t-shirts, jewelry, car magnets, candles, note cards, and all the "safe" merchandise. As you come to the bottom of the horseshoe there are doors to the back where women can go and try on wigs or bras or whatever they need. It was the oddest thing when I saw one of the rooms. My heart slammed into my breastbone as if someone had jumped out at me. As I wound around to the other side of the boutique I came upon the wigs and scarves and bras and prostheses and surgical camisoles. Subconsciously I wanted to peruse the lingerie and pretty scarves - almost like I was in a dream, but my rational self reminded me I didn't need any of it.
I didn't panic and run out, but I had to leave. I'm not even sure if I can put a name to the way I felt. A little sad, possibly, but not much. Maybe a little relieved that I don't need to frequent the back. I think mostly I was surprised. Surprised at what, I can't figure out. But it was almost like waking from a dream and thinking, "Oh. I don't need to be here. I should go."
So I did. I went back down to the 10th floor, checked in and settled down to read my book.
Sitting in the waiting room of a plastic surgeon's office is quite an experience. I sit there and surreptitiously observe the other patients, wondering if they're there for liposuction or a tummy tuck or botox or something noble like reconstruction of some type. Of course, I'm not quite so haughty when I'm in there for the laser hair removal. But yesterday was all about the reconstruction so I could judge. (I'M KIDDING, PEOPLE!)
The nurse called me back and asked for my height and weight. I told her 5'7" and 125 pounds. Not really. That would have been a heinous lie. Sadly I told her the truth and the horrible facts have been recorded for posterity. I put on my lovely little gown and read some more while I waited for the doctor.
As I've mentioned several times, University of Pennsylvania is a teaching hospital which means the doctor can't go any place alone. I was a little disappointed when he only had one resident in tow instead of a legion. Dr. Serletti and I chatted about Caddy Shack for a few minutes, then he asked how everything was "working out for" me and I said fine. Odd choice of words, don't you think?
How are your boobs working out for you?
Great! They're a wonder for opening up stubborn pickle jars!
After the riveting conversation came the part where I opened the gown and posed for pictures. "Oh yeah," he said. "They look great." Geesh! It all sounds so seedy! And it surely doesn't sound very professional, but I promise it was all so very clinical - even with the camera and the other guy in the room. (I shudder to think what kind of perverts are going to find this blog now.)
The entire "exam" lasted about 10 minutes. He checked out my abdomenal scar as well and liked how it had healed. So I am now officially released from the plastic surgeon's office. Time to recondition my Pavlov's response - no more flashing my girls for just anyone in a lab coat.
It seems kind of weird. This has been my life for the last year-and-a-half. What excuses will I have to drive into Philadelphia now?
On my way home I stopped off at the Valley Forge Barnes and Noble and met Cristie there again. Of course, the discussion about my doctor's appointment lead to another one of those discussions. I love how she makes me think (even if I prefer not to) and I'm going to write about yesterday's discoveries later.
I'm interested to see what the next chapter will be about. I only hope it will provide as much blog fodder as the reconstruction did!
I never used to think of myself as stubborn. I was an easy going, laid back kid who most of the time never had to have her way. I was usually happy to do whatever my friends wanted to do. It wasn't until I had Taylor that I realized "stubborn" comes in all shapes and sizes.
When we took him for swimming lessons around the age of four or so he wouldn't do what he was told to do. There was no amount of cajoling or sweet talking or even harsh words to get him to put his head in the water, even if he did think the instructor was pretty. He was, and is, laid back and easy going. He doesn't have to have his way all the time. But I can guarantee he's not going to do something he doesn't want to do.
Yesterday morning I asked Todd if I was stubborn. Without a moment's hesitation he answered in the affirmative. I was shocked. I think I probably sputtered. At the very least I imagined he would have waged a war in his head before speaking.
Do I tell her the truth and risk her wrath? Or do I lie to appease her and make her happy?
With no thought to the safety of his person he just blurted out, "Yes." A pretty brave, if not stupid move, if you ask me. He did go on to explain the difference between being stubborn and being spoiled. I'll give him props for saying I'm not spoiled. (Though, truth be told, I AM spoiled, only because he's made me that way.) But he said I'm stubborn because if I don't get my way everybody knows about it.
EXCUSE ME??? I told him he has no idea how many times I don't push the issue of what I want or how I think things should be. And frankly, when I do make an issue of something it's usually because I think people are being selfish.
So then I asked if he thought he was stubborn. Instead of answering he said, "Wait a minute. This is supposed to be about you and not me." O contraire, Mon frère. I was the interrogator and already had my list of questions prepared.
This time he responded in the negative. Again, I sputtered. He justified his answer by saying he can be stubborn at work, but not usually where the family is concerned. More sputtering and waiting for him to smile and say, "Just kidding."
What I came up with is we're both stubborn in our own way. I'd love to say he's way more stubborn than I am, but I'll concede that we're each just as stubborn as the other.
There. In light of the fact this is my blog and I can say anything I want to, I believe that was very magnanimous of me.
Moving along…
Taylor may look like a blond version of his dad, but he acts like me in a lot of ways. His penchant for rationalization, for instance.
It's called home work. Work you do at home. The teacher never said we had to hand it in.
If I wait another three days there will be more grass to mow, making it more worth my time.
Why do I have to watch the dog? I told you before we got her I would like a dog, but I was too lazy to be responsible.
Totally exasperating, and yet I get it. I rationalize everything. You've probably figured that out if you've read my blog for any length of time. I am the Queen of Rationalization. Not something I'm proud of, though it is a skill.
Yesterday morning I curled up in the big green chair with a cup of coffee and told Todd I was going to whine for a bit. I was just going to get it out and then be done with it. He was very gracious about the whole thing, wonderful (but stubborn) man that he is. My "bullet list" went something like this:
* I'm tired of my back hurting every morning when I wake up, making me sometimes get out of bed before I'm really ready to.
* I'm tired of the stiffness and walking like my grandmother when I get up after sitting for just a short while. Actually I never saw my grandmother walk like me.
* I'm tired of my feet hurting before I've even stood on them for the day.
* I hate that I need to be more diligent about taking calcium and getting exercise for my bones. My oncologist told me I WILL get osteoporosis before my time because of the medications I've been on and the lack of estrogen.
* I hate that I love good food as much as I do.
* I hate that I don't like exercise like I did when I was younger.
What I hate the most is how stubborn I am about all this. I'm sure you all are getting tired of reading this recurring theme, but as I stated above - it's my blog. I have carte blanche with what I write. And trust me. If you only knew the posts I've written in my head and chose to keep there you'd welcome my consistent complaining.
It's like I have scales in front of me. In one tray I put "backaches", "stiffness", "joint pain", "sore feet", "osteoporosis", "discomfort" and "overall health" and in the other tray I put "yummy food" and "inactivity". The first tray far outweighs (pardon the pun) the other and I didn't even put in the vanity phrases such as "fat clothes" and "depressing photos".
I just don't get it. Why am I so stubborn? Or maybe I'm just spiteful. I know I would be so much better off if I would eat better and exercise. And it's even more important with my history. A better diet and activity could prevent or head off so many problems and it can also alleviate so many other issues. I've been through enough, thank you very much.
So why don't I just get over myself and do what I know I have to do? It's about so much more than what size I'm wearing or a number on the scale. It's all about being the healthiest me I can possibly be and being around long enough to watch my grandchildren become parents.
Of course I'm spewing all this out only five days before our vacation. If you think I'm going to take all this to heart while I'm in Hawaii you are daft, man! Am I rationalizing? Probably. I'm okay with that, though.
It's all about changing the way I think. And getting rid of my spiteful, stubborn self. I'll think a lot about that while I'm lying on the beach. Maybe I'll be inspired there and when I get home BAM! I'll start training for the Iron Man. It could happen.
Plain and simple, I don't understand how I could go through surgery and chemotherapy to be healthy and yet I can't make myself stay away from fattening, sugary foods for any length of time. I allowed people to pump poison through my veins and yet I can't make myself walk for 30 minutes every day. Eating right and being active is so much easier than going through treatment. So what's my deal??
To round out this post, my deal is that I'm stubborn and I rationalize everything! Guess I know what character flaws I need to start working on.
Okay. I've only got a little time to tell you what's been going on. I'll start with Wednesday. That was my trip in to Philly to have my tattoos touched up and the hair under my arms zapped into oblivion. The ride into the city was pleasant and uneventful. I'm telling you, give me some good tunes and a minimum of stupid drivers and I am one happy woman.
Ylena did the tattoo touch ups first. I asked her if she ever had any strange requests for smiley faces or Celtic knots or anything and she said no. Which is a good thing because all she knows how to do are circles. But she does that really well. I am a bit surprised at how real things are starting to look. It's the first time in nearly three years that I think I look "normal". Oh, I still have funky scars and will for some time, but I look less like a doll and more like a real person. AND there is no more yak belly hair.
Which leads me to the laser hair removal. Ayechiwawa that hurt!! Not the breast part because there's not really any feeling there. But the underarms! Cripes!! Though not all of it. I would think, "this isn't so bad" and then ZAP! I could actually hear the hair frying! And oy, the smell! Burning hair has quite the nasty odor. She did the left armpit first and just when I didn't think I could take anymore she put an ice pack under there and moved to the right side. That side didn't seem to be as bad and I think it's because of some strange nerve sensations since having lymph nodes removed from the left a few years ago.
I go back the first week in May for my second session. I may be less than thrilled at the thought of more sizzling pain, but the end results are well worth it. No more shaving or Veeting for me!!
The drive home from Philadelphia wasn't too bad except I was behind some bonehead who had to be drunk or high or something. Nobody drives that bad. Seriously. He nearly hit the center divider a number of times until he moved into the right lane. Then he kept driving on the shoulder, swerving back into his lane and over compensating by veering into the left lane. I was relieved when he took an exit, but then felt guilty I hadn't called 911 because he was dangerous.
Thursday was my thyroid biopsy. Radioactive Girl had given me good advice and an idea of what to expect and I was thankful for that. The unknown and speculation is always much worse than reality.
I laid on a table with my head back as far as it would go, the ultrasound technician on the right and the radiologist on the left. She pressed the wand onto my neck while the doctor poked around with his finger to figure out where he wanted to go in. He had me turn my head as far to the right as I could and then he sprayed the area with a freezing agent. So freezing that it kind of burned. Then the real fun began.
I didn't feel the needle going in, but I could feel it inside, fishing around for the right spot to extract the questionable cells. The ultrasound tech told me not to swallow or talk. Don't you know after that I had an insane urge to swallow. The doctor took two samples from one nodule and two samples from another nodule. In between samples the tech would say, "Now swallow as much as you can!" Which was funny because it's really hard to swallow on command and that's why she was saying it.
The doctor kept saying, "This just doesn't look like anything to worry about. I really think these are complex cysts." There was a pathologist in the room as well to make sure he was getting enough cells for the samples, but she couldn't say yay or nay. I'll get the final word near the end of next week, but I'm not concerned at all. I've had these things for ten years and they've hardly changed a bit. Which makes me wonder why I went through the pain and hassle in the first place. But I just figure it's my little jab to the insurance company. (Hope they don't read this!)
Afterwards my neck was a little sore and I'm kind of bruised, but nothing terrible. It's uncomfortable to yawn and, just like the swallowing thing, makes me want to yawn all the time. But it's over with and I hope to never have this done ever again. I did get that Venti Decaf White Chocolate Mocha with Whip, though!
Now for the really big news! I have succumbed. We're picking up our new puppy in about an hour. A Norwegian Elkhound mix from a rescue shelter. She's a very cute and fluffy little thing. I have to admit I'm getting a bit excited. If for no other reason than I'll have cute pictures and fun stories for my blog. Hopefully fun for me as well as you. Now if we all can only agree on a name.
Today was my first day back at work since spring break and the kids' first day back to school. To say this morning was crumby is an understatement! After more than a week of sleeping late to all of a sudden getting up at 6:30 - or 5:45 if you're Taylor - was, in the infamous words of Jeff Spicoli, gnarly, dude.
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My family is conspiring against me to get a dog. I don't want a dog. Don't get me wrong. I love dogs and have had several in my lifetime. They're wearing me down, however, and I'm pretty sure we'll be owning one soon. As long as I'm not the one getting up in the middle of the night with it or cleaning up the backyard is all I'm gonna say.
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I'm reading the most excellent of books! It's called Mistress of the Art of Death by Ariana Franklin. It's a medieval (1172) mystery in the fashion of CSI - two of my favorite genres all mixed in together! Here's the back blurb:
In Cambridge, four children have been murdered. Wrongly accused of the crimes, a small community of Jews threatened by Catholic mobs is given sanctuary by Henry II. To assist in proving their innocence, he summons an expert in the science of deduction and the art of death. She is Adelia, a prodigy from the Medical School of Salerno, and an anomaly in a medieval world, who is forced to concel her identity and her purpose from England's grave superstitions and condemnation. One man willing to work with her is Sir Rowley Picot. His personal stake in the investigation makes him an invaluable ally - and in Adelia's eyes, a suspect as well. From navigating Cambridge's perilous river paths to penetrating the dark shadows of the Church, Adelia's investigation will not only reveal the secrets of the dead, but in time, the far more dangerous ones buried by the living.
Now if I only had time to read more...
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Tomorrow I go back for the tattoo touch ups and my first laser hair removal treatment. I'm so excited about never having to shave/Veet my underarms again.
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Thursday is my thyroid biopsy. I'm seriously not concerned about the results. I've had these nodules and calcifications for at least 10 years. I AM, however, a little freaked out about the actual procedure. Todd is taking off work to go with me which means I'm getting a Venti White Chocolate Mocha out of the deal so I suppose it's not so bad. Besides, Radioactive Girl gave me the scoop on what to expect so I know it's not going to be as horrible as it sounds.
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I'm listening to my iPod and 100 Years by Five for Fighting is on right now. If I listen to the lyrics it will make me cry. Not because they're sad. They're just, I don't know... So very, very true.
I'm 15 for a moment Caught in between 10 and 20 And I'm just dreaming Counting the ways to where you are
I'm 22 for a moment She feels better than ever And we're on fire Making our way back from Mars
15 there's still time for you Time to buy and time to lose 15, there's never a wish better than this When you only got 100 years to live
I'm 33 for a moment Still the man, but you see I'm a they A kid on the way A family on my mind
I'm 45 for a moment The sea is high And I'm heading into a crisis Chasing the years of my life
15 there's still time for you Time to buy, Time to lose yourself Within a morning star
15 I'm all right with you 15, there's never a wish better than this When you only got 100 years to live
Half time goes by Suddenly you're wise Another blink of an eye 67 is gone The sun is getting high We're moving on...
I'm 99 for a moment Dying for just another moment And I'm just dreaming Counting the ways to where you are
15 there's still time for you 22 I feel her too 33 you're on your way Every day's a new day...
15 there's still time for you Time to buy and time to choose Hey 15, there's never a wish better than this When you only got 100 years to live
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I've become addicted to Sudoku. I hate it, but I can't stop myself. I have to do two or three puzzles every day and then I dream about it at night. The other night it was like a cross between Hollywood Squares and the beginning of the Brady Bunch with faces and numbers or numbers and faces or something. I don't know, but it plagued my sleep all night long.
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I slighted Ben in my telling of how the boys scared the girls last Thursday, but only because I didn't have all the details when I wrote that post. Ben's part was rather devious and I believe Jesus warned about people like him. He went down to the basement and told the girls he needed to use the computer for something. Then when Taylor was scratching and knocking on the basement windows and the girls were freaking out, Ben was their hero. First he told them it was only the wind, then he said he'd go check it out and when he came back he told them it was just the wind. Nothing to be scared about. So he got them a little worked up and then lulled them into a false sense of security, priming them for Taylor's entrance. And he seems like such a nice boy, too.
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The girls that spent the night were my little homies. Or K Squad Unit Fresh as Taylor calls them. We had been talking about the last days of Jesus' life the previous two weeks so Thursday night we watched The Passion of the Christ only after getting the parents' permission. A part of me was hoping either the parents would say no or the girls would change their minds. But no such luck. And it actually turned out to be a very good thing. Intense, but good. And after the movie was over they decided to watch Hairspray. lol
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There's a two-inch gash on my good coffee table in the living room. Not a scratch that I could maybe rub out, but an honest to goodness gash. I just wish I knew how it got there so I could make myself feel better by blaming someone. But no one has any idea how it got there. The hand-me-down coffee table in the family room is fine. The really cheap table is fine. The good coffee table? Not so much.
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I'm terribly behind in my bloghopping. Now that I'm feeling better and things are getting back to our regular routine, maybe I can catch up. But right now I think I'll go take a little nap...
Today was yet another doctor's appointment. This time it was with my new endocrinologist. Well, fairly new. This was my second appointment with her.
The reason I need an endocrinologist is because I have half a thyroid. When Todd and I had been married two years (I was 24) I saw the gynecologist for my annual checkup and he noticed a lump in my throat. (This is the part where people always say, “didn’t you tell him he was looking at the wrong end?") He mentioned a few things it could be, but the word that stuck out was “cancer”.
Todd’s parents were in town at the time because his grandfather had just passed away. Of cancer. His grandmother was dying. Of cancer. When the doctor mentioned the possibility of cancer it was all I heard. He set me up for some tests to determine whether the growth was benign or malignant.
I drove back to my house only to find Todd and his parents were at his grandparents’ house with the rest of the family. I tried to call him, but the line was busy. So I called my mom. My parents still lived in California at the time and were visiting my sister and her family in Oregon. I called my sister’s house and talked to my nephew when he answered the phone like there was nothing wrong. But as soon as I heard my mom’s voice I broke down. I couldn’t talk.
She asked several questions to which I managed a sobbing “no” in reply. Had Betty died, did something happen to Todd, were Todd and I in a fight. Finally I took a deep breath and told her I had a growth on my thyroid and the doctor mentioned it may be cancer.
Being the good mom she is my nerves were calmed in no time. So I hung up and tried calling out to the grandparents’ house again. This time I made it through and told Todd what the doctor had said. The family was so immersed in cancer at the time that it made him physically ill.
His mother called my doctor to get more information. Poor guy. He felt horrible when he heard what all we were going through at the time and how the mention of cancer – however remote the possibility – had frazzled me.
So began the myriad of tests to determine whether it was a benign goiter or a malignancy or something else. Each test came back inconclusive which meant another test and then another. I think I had at least four different tests. The morning we were getting ready for the last of them my father-in-law called to let us know his mother had passed away. I believe it was 11 days after her husband.
It was finally decided that I needed to have the right side of my thyroid removed and a biopsy performed. Thankfully the results were negative. It was just a plain old, run of the mill goiter.
For years I didn't have to take any medicine as the left side seemed to function just fine. Then one day while sitting at the counter at my folks' house (they had since moved to Arkansas) my mom commented on my swollen neck. I hadn't even noticed, but after she said that I realized I did have a bump to the left of center where my thyroid is.
My family quack doctor at that time said I'd have to have the other half removed without even running any tests and scheduled me to meet with a surgeon. Todd called my gynecologist and told him what was going on and he was not happy with my doctor. He sent me to his surgeon who ran some blood work and performed a sonogram. He decided I didn't need surgery, I needed an endocrinologist.
So we were referred to the Nutty Professor – the best endocrinologist to ever have walked the face of the earth (though I know Radioactive Girl will disagree with me). He diagnosed me with Hashimoto's Syndrome. My thyroid levels were all within normal limits, but my half a thyroid was working so hard to keep it that way it had become swollen. So now I take synthetic thyroid to keep my levels up without taxing the left side.
In addition to the Hashimoto's Syndrome I also have nodules, the largest of which is 1 cm. Some of them have a bit of calcification, but they've been that way for the last ten years. Still, given my history and the fact that breast cancer can spread to the thyroid, the doctor and I decided it would be a good idea to have a biopsy.
Is it just me, or does the thought of somebody jabbing a long needle into my neck sound icky?
Every time I have my thyroid levels checked I wish against wish and hope against hope they will be low, giving me a great excuse for not losing weight. Never, ever, ever has my wish or hope been granted. In an effort to combat my fatigue, however, she did increase my medication up to the next dosage today. Now I have visions of having all kinds of energy, living in a perfectly clean house, losing weight and realizing my dream of looking great in my swimsuit this coming summer.
I'm one of those people who are generally pretty good in a crisis. I tend to remain calm while I'm going through it, but as soon as we're "out of the woods" I break down.
When Taylor was 9 months old we couldn't get him to wake up one Saturday morning. He'd sort of open his eyes, but didn't seem able to keep them open. His little lips were gray and his breathing was shallow. Todd was very ill with pneumonia so I strapped Taylor into his car seat and made the 30 minute drive to the emergency room in about 15 minutes.
There was no waiting for me and we were taken into a private examination room instead of a curtained area. He was listless during their examination, he didn't flinch when they swabbed his nose, and their faces told me a whole lot even though their mouths didn't. It seemed like forever though it was only short minutes when the doctor said they needed to do a spinal tap to rule out meningitis and a nurse escorted me out of the room. His words were burned into my memory - "Your baby is very ill. You need to be prepared for anything."
I knew what he was saying to me, but I refused to freak out because it wouldn't do any good. We didn't have cell phones at the time so I found the phone in the waiting room and called my frantic husband. I can only imagine his feeling of helplessness. He wanted to be right there, knowing what was going on. But it turned out he wasn't even allowed at the hospital.
My sick child was so out of it he didn't twitch or move a muscle when they did the spinal tap. But thankfully it wasn't meningitis. It was RSV and severe dehydration. He was admitted to ICU for 24 hours until the crisis was past and then the general pediatric floor for four days after that. My parents still lived in California at the time and on day three my mother showed up at the hospital so I could go home, see Todd, have a shower, eat something normal, change my clothes. I wouldn't leave Taylor alone and with Todd banned from the hospital because of his pneumonia I'd had no breaks. (Not knowing any of this was going on, Todd's doctor wanted to admit him. When Todd explained our situation - and that it would be too much for me - the doctor agreed and made Todd promise to come into the office every day for a shot of something or other.)
I don't believe I cried at all while I was in the hospital with Taylor. Never once. Partly because I didn't figure it would do me any good and partly because I worried if I started I might not stop. And it wasn't about me. It was about my baby. I had to be strong for him. You can bet I did a lot of praying, though. And so did my heathen (at that time) husband at home.
Todd's cousin, Joe D., picked my mom up at the airport and drove her to the hospital. What a relief it was to see her. Taylor was still undergoing breathing treatments, but by this time it was clear he was going to be fine. I walked outside for the first time in three days and drove home - much slower than I'd driven there. I talked to Todd for a little bit and then went to take a shower.
You know how wonderful a hot shower feels when you haven't had one in a few days and you're feeling uber grungy? As the water washed the previous days away, so did the tears that came rushing out. I think I ended up sitting on the floor of the shower, arms wrapped around my knees and sobbing uncontrollably. Not tears of despair, but tears of relief and tears of gratitude to God. All the emotion I'd been holding at bay poured out. The dam was breached and there was no turning back.
After my shower I felt wonderful. Inside and out. I took the best nap of my life in my own, comfortable bed; I ate something besides hospital food; I spent a little time with my recovering husband; and as I drove back to the hospital I felt lighter than I had in several days.
That event is a rather extreme illustration of how I tick, but it's the best example I could think of. And the reason I brought it up is because of my experience last week. I say I'm a fraud because I kept telling everyone I wasn't worried about my bone scan. But it wasn't just everyone else I was saying this to, it was myself. I must be a pretty good actress because I believed me.
After I'd received the call from the oncologist I made a few phone calls, sent some e-mails, posted here on my blog I ended up in a total funk. I didn't react the way I had with Taylor's ordeal, but I did have a bit of a breakdown in the form of withdrawal. I wanted to be with my family and I wanted to be alone all at the same time. I felt like one of those rubber band toys that you twist and twist and twist until it won't twist any more and then you let it go. Except I hadn't realized I was being twisted so taught until I was released.
I guess it was bothering me more than I appreciated. Even Friday morning as I was getting ready for my Homies (named for my ladies' home team - bible study - by my fellow Homie, Tina) I was a bit funkitated. It was rainy and dreary outside and I was feeling blah. But just pulling up to the house we were meeting at was enough to make me feel better. And then those crazy women finished me off.
So you see. I'm not as brave and calm as I seem to be. Oh, I think I am at the time, but afterwards I realize I was just suppressing my anxiety. Still, this mechanism has served me well so I don't imagine I'll be changing any time soon.
And the last thing I have to say about that is this. Any perceived strength or bravery on my part is simply an extension of my faith. It's the way God made me - a chip off my mother's block - and it's a gift. But I don't handle anything without my God. When I start to feel anxious I ask for peace and He gives it to me. When I start to feel depressed I ask for joy and He gives it to me. And I love Him all the more for it.
But I digress. His hand is still bothering him and not just a little. He saw an orthopedic surgeon in November who didn't see any broken bones on x-ray, so he gave him a splint to wear. Two weeks ago I went with Todd to see the doctor who is in a Beatles tribute band. Todd introduced him to me as Dr. Cash, a.k.a. George Harrison. He shook my hand while speaking Liverpoolian and I giggled like a school girl. One of my better "mature" moments. Anyhoo, George sent Todd for a thumb/wrist MRI last week and yesterday was the follow up appointment.
The MRI didn't show anything other than a bit of fluid in one of his thumb joints so the Fab One injected a corticosteroid laced with a bit of Novocaine into the joint. I gave Todd my sage advice for handling injections and then cringed as I watched the needle disappear in his knuckle. He did so good, though! I was rather impressed.
The relief was immediate and he was so happy. Then the mop top with the degree told Todd it was only temporary. Once the Novocaine wore off he'd be sore for a few days. Hopefully the corticosteroid will give him relief after the soreness from the injection is gone. Poor guy.
OH! And get this. I was so nice to him yesterday even though compassion is very low on my list of spiritual gifts. I think I scored a 5 out of 30 for compassion, only to be superseded by organization/administration which was a 2. It's nice to know I have it in me when it's needed, though.
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So today was my bone scan. I had to be at the nuclear medicine department at 9:30 for my injection. After getting shot up with a radioactive dye which bonds to the bones I was free to do whatever I wanted to for the next three plus hours as long as my plans included drinking a lot of fluids. ANY fluids.
This time I knew right where the Starbuck's was so I hung out there for about an hour with my book, a cinnamon chip scone and... what did I get... let's see... oh yeah! A Venti White Chocolate Mocha with whip. Yeah, yeah. Not conducive to losing the weight that has taken up residence and really likes the neighborhood. And why shouldn't it like the neighborhood? There's always some type of a party going on!
After that was a trip to the biggest Bed, Bath and Beyond I've ever seen. Of course, I didn't see anything I needed or even wanted. Until I was about to leave, that is. I decided to make a quick perusal of the clearance section and I found a beautiful Gorham Lady Anne tall vase to go along with the rest of my Lady Anne pieces. It's a $60.00 vase and they had it on clearance for $20.00. Isn't it beautiful? How could I refuse??
My last stop on the way back to the hospital was Panera Bread Company for a delicious sandwich and a soda. And another 30 lovely minutes with my book. Of course, I had to wait about 30 minutes in the nuclear medicine waiting room so that was more time with my book. Do you see why I really don't mind these doctor's appointments and such?
The scan was no big deal at all. The technician straps you onto a very skinny, hard table with a wedge under your knees making you bow legged and a big rubber band around your toes making you pigeon toed. Quite the picture, isn't it? The whole thing took about 45 minutes and I was never so happy to get up from a nap as I was then. My entire body ached from staying perfectly still the whole time.
As I've said, I'm certain I'm still dancing with NED (No Evidence of Disease), but I can still feel the tension in my shoulders and it's not from laying on the table. It's not something I'm worrying about, but I know I'll be relieved to hear the doctor tell me tomorrow there was nothing more than a little degenerative bone disease. Funny how "degenerative bone disease" doesn't sound so bad in relation to cancer.
I will, of course, post after I hear from the doctor's office - hopefully tomorrow, but maybe on Thursday. For now I'm going to bed so I'll have all the energy I need to catch up on laundry and ironing tomorrow.
Get it? "All White" as in "all right"? Clever, no??
Wednesday morning I rushed around to make sure I got out of the house and on the road in time to make it to my oncology appointment by 10:30. His office had moved since the last time I saw him so I wanted to make sure I had enough wiggle room to find the new one.
Two minutes down the road I glanced at my planner and I realized my appointment wasn't until 11:45. ** Which begs the question, what do I have scheduled for 10:30 and when? I have no idea. ** Instead of turning around and going back home, however, I decided to take the scenic trip through Valley Forge to look for a tree. Last winter I became enamoured with a huge tree of some sort with a big, blackish trunk and beautiful WHITE branches. I'm pleased to report it's still there. Now I need to go back with my camera so you can see it, too.
After finding my tree I got back on the road and located the new offices with nearly an hour to spare. What to do? What to do? I know! Track down the nearest Starbuck's - STAT! Less then a mile down the road I spotted the glorious round, green sign with the funky lady in the middle. I think those signs have some kind of hidden homing device or something because my car just seems to be drawn to them. Anyway, I spent a lovely 45 minutes in Starbuck's with a WHITE Chocolate Mocha and my current read (Bookends by Liz Curtis Higgs). So I had a pre-appointment coffee instead of my usual post-appointment drink.
The new offices are gorgeous and lucky for me the doctor had had an emergency, throwing him behind nearly an hour. I'm serious when I say "lucky" because that gave me even more time to read. When I was called back the nurse did all the preliminaries like weigh me (WAHHHH!!!), draw blood, check my vitals, etc., then showed me to a room where I got to read some more. It was shaping up to be a nice day. Except for the weighing part.
After a few minutes the WHITE Russian came in. He said, "It's such a pleasure to see you. You're the healthiest person I've seen all day." Makes you wonder what kind of day he'd had, doesn't it? I had three items to discuss with him:
1. Can I get off Tamoxifen and start on Arimidex or Femera?
Since I no longer have ovaries my estrogen levels are considered post-menopausal. Therefore, I can stop taking Tamoxifen and start on either one of those medications. He switched me to Arimidex, but the major side effect of that is arthritis. If I start suffering with joint pain and stiffness - more than I already do - then we'll try Femera. The major side effect of that drug is higher cholesterol, but I don't have any cholesterol problems so that might be okay. He then sent me next door to have a baseline bone density scan so we can watch how the Arimidex effects my bones.
I hate to sound vain, but I looked really good in my navy blue hospital gown, tan and brown striped socks and pink crocs with the oatmeal liner. I'm talking HAWT! And have any of you ever had a dexascan? You lie on this table and the technician lines up the machine to be centered on your abdomen below your navel. To line it up she kept pushing on my hip bones and my pelvic bone! She never told me she was going to do that and I just about jumped off the table because I was NOT expecting that! I am not that kind of girl! I may show my boobs to anyone who wants to see them, but that's where I draw the line!
2. Can I have the hair removed from my left underarm by laser?
It's not invasive and you don't run the risk of a cut so it doesn't threaten to cause lymphedema. I think I'll be a bit wild and have BOTH underarms laserly de-haired.
3. What about the pain in my right hip and left lower ribs?
This, of course, was my main concern and with good reason. As I stated before, bone metastasis is very common with breast cancer. The doctor is not worried at all. My cancer markers are very low, my blood test doesn't indicate anything going on with my bones, I'M NOT LOSING WEIGHT. ** When I complained about the not losing weight part even though I'm trying he said I have several factors working against me. My age, my total hysterectomy, my thyroid issues, the Tamoxifen, my love of Starbuck's and all things chocolate (Okay. I give. I threw the last two in there.) I think onocologists are the only doctors who like their patients overweight. ** But because bone metastasis is always a concern he scheduled me for a bone scan next Tuesday.
Looking through my chart, he saw that my last bone scan was two years ago. At that time it showed degenerative disease (dramatic way of saying arthritis) in my clavical. My clavical! How does that even work? It's not a joint, is it?? That makes no sense to me. Of course, this is me we're talking about. If it's weird and can happen..., well, you get the idea. He thinks the pain in my hip and my ribs may be arthritis.
All in all I'm feeling pretty good about everything. The appointment went very well and Dr. Mikhail eased whatever concern I had about the bone pain. And Katybug - it doesn't feel like normal muscle pain. It's hard to describe, but it does seem more "bony" than muscle.
OH! And get this. I had told the kids not to get on the bus, I would pick them up from school because we had to go buy a jacket for Taylor. I hadn't planned on a dexascan, but by the time I got out of there I knew there was no way I could get to them. So I called Todd and asked him to call Katie's school to let her know she had to take the bus home. I texted Taylor because I knew he'd check it as soon as school was out.
So I'm driving home, feeling good about things, listening to my favorite playlist on my iPod, when Katie calls me. "Mom! Where are you?" Long story short - the office called her last period teacher and told her, but the woman never told Katie. Todd was too far to get her, I was too far to get her, we tried calling a couple people about getting her but couldn't get a hold of them. So I told her to go wait for me in the office and I'd get there as soon as I could. But the secretary couldn't wait for me so she drove Katie home. The whole thing made me see WHITE! Like madder than seeing red! I'm still miffed about that.
**Deep Breath**
Tuesday I'll go get injected with radioactive dye that, unfortunately, will not make me glow. Then three hours later I'll go back and take a rest on a cold, hard table while the scanner runs over me like a car wash. Hopefully I'll be able to see my skeleton on the computer screen because it makes me look tall and skinny. Maybe a little too skinny.
Oy! I have so many things to blog about, not the least of which is a visit with our very good friends from Missouri. But it will have to wait a little bit longer.
Before I go on to my riviting post I have to say a thank you to all of you who left me such nice, encouraging comments on my last post.
I'm rejoining the YMCA tomorrow so I can start swimming again. Swimming without the fear of certain fake parts floating to places they shouldn't be.
Last week we were lucky if our highs made it into the 30's. Now they're telling us it's going to get up into the 50's, even 60's for a few days this week. People are all excited about the warmer temperatures and some of them (like my son) are even wearing shorts.
I'm so tired of hot flashes. Tired, I tell you. The other night I was working in the kitchen and I took off my sweatshirt. Then I put it back on. Then I took it off. Then back on. This went on and on all evening. Right now I'm sitting in a freezing house and I want to turn up the heater, but I know if I just hang out here for a few minutes I'll be sweltering in no time at all. How long do these things last??
Desperate Housewives is on tonight. So nobody call the house at 9:00 Eastern Standard Time because I won't answer.
Wednesday I have a follow up appointment with the plastic surgeon to check on the revisions he did back in December. My opinion of the revisions? Meh. Things still look funky to me, but whatever.
Speaking of whatever, I leave you with this YouTube video in honor of our Missouri friends:
I have it on good authority that holiday calories don't count. I thought this meant whatever you eat from Thanksgiving until January 2nd was free. My Weight Watcher's points tracker hasn't been filled out because I haven't been consuming any points at all since the fourth Thursday in November. Or so I thought.
I had to have a semi-physical and TB test for work this morning. You know what that means. I had to be weighed. And while it IS cold outside and I'm wearing winter clothes, I don't think the nurse bought my standard lie. The one about my clothes weighing about 30 pounds. Though I was wearing tennis shoes and I'm pretty sure they're close to five pounds. Each.
I refuse to divulge what the scales said. I will say, however, that I'm firmly a size six. Figuratively speaking. And that was probably a silly size to chose for my illustrations because if I ever do lose the weight I want to I'll end up being somewhere between a negative two and a negative four.
So now I'm thinking it's only the specific holiday foods that have no calories. But that's kind of confusing because let's say I go to Starbuck's for a White Chocolate Mocha. That's available all year around so I would have to count those calories. BUT if I were to order a Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha - a holiday special item - then it would be free. Or what if I were to make sugar cookies in the shape of something other than a holiday figure, maybe a butterfly or a spring-time flower, would that still count as holiday food? You see my bemusement.
Thank goodness the entertainment food rules are clear cut. For example, lunch in tandem with a movie is included in the calorie free items along with the popcorn, candy, etc.
I am drinking a Coca-Cola Cherry Zero right now. That's gotta count for something.
*****
Taylor has a pulled trapezius. I'm sure you already know this, but if not, a trapezius is NOT a swinging apparatus, but a muscle between the shoulder bone and spine. Anyway, he's apparently done a good job of it because he's in quite a bit of pain. Unlike my drama queen daughter, he's usually pretty tough and it takes a lot to make him complain*.
Now I have a standard rule that says unless you are puking, bleeding profusely or running a fever you WILL go to school. I need to add semi-paralyzed. Poor guy could hardly move last night and ended up sleeping in the big green chair downstairs with a heating pad.
Somewhere in this blog I have established my lack of compassion. More likely it was Todd who pointed it out, but whatever. It's true. I have never claimed to be good nurse material and today is further proof. I understand the boy can't move without it feeling like someone is ripping the muscle in his back. Which means I'm having to wait on him. I don't do waiting on him very well. I'm sure I'll endure, though. hahaha
I did get a glimpse of my little punkin' head this morning, though. He had walked into the living room, managed to get the Christmas tree lights on and fell asleep on the couch. Gave me all kinds of warm fuzzies. Maybe I should think about that every time I start to get frustrated.
*I need to clarify here. Taylor complains all the time.
Me: Empty the trash and take it to the curb.
Taylor: *Heavy Sigh*
Me: Clear off the table and load the dishwasher.
Taylor: *Heavy Sigh*
Me: Clean up your room.
Taylor: *Heavy Sigh*
But he doesn't usually complain about being sick or in pain.
*****
Taylor's school band concert is tonight, but he can't lift his trombone let alone move the slide. Since we're not going to that I'll be going to the preschool Christmas program. Please pray that I can get up off the floor of the stage in front of all those people without embarrassing myself.
And we'll be having Jesus Birthday Cake. Nothing says "holidays" more than that so I really hope I get a corner piece!
My fans are clamoring for me to write another post. They both think it's been too long since my last one. I'm sorry to tell you, Mom and Aunt Thea, that my posting is going to be mighty sporadic until after the first of the year. No doubt most of you can relate. Christmas is closing in on us and there's always so much to do, so little time. I do believe my shopping is finished which is a huge relief. But I haven't even done my Christmas cards and it's looking like it's not happening this year. Maybe I'll do a "Happy 2008" card in January instead.
I have so much nothing to say. Having trouble getting to sleep at night? Just keep reading.
School was dismissed two hours early on Thursday due to bad weather. Thankfully Todd was already home because he was sick. Not thankfully he was sick. But thankfully he was already home. Though I don't believe the streets ever did get slick, it was still fun to have a family evening at home on a cold night, watching Transformers. Except for somewhere along the line we lost both the kids - Katie to bed and Taylor to a phone call with his girlfriend - and Todd and I finished out the movie alone.
The kids went carolling at a nursing home with some of the young adults from church last night. They had a blast. While I sometimes pine for my babies or toddlers or preschoolers or elementary age kids, I also thoroughly enjoy having two teenagers. No, I haven't caught Todd's fever. I really mean it. The only thing I truly get tired of is playing chauffeur. Sometimes I can't wait for Taylor to get his license just so I'm not constantly driving all over the place for him and Katie. And when I need a gallon of milk. Rationally, however, I'm not excited about that prospect at all. I know how I am and I'll be a nervous wreck when he's not home exactly when he said he was going to be. It will be time to step up the hair coloring regimen, I'm sure.
Anyway, they were gone so Todd and I got a Hawaiian pizza and watched Mr. Brooks last night. I'm pretty prudish when it comes to bad language in movies and there were a lot of F-bombs in this particular flick. But we watched it anyway and it was okay. Not the best movie I ever saw. Not the worst.
I have thrush again and this time I have absolutely no idea why. I haven't been on any antibiotics and I don't think my white count is low because I'm pretty sure I'd be sick if it was. My tongue has been more swollen than normal for the last week or so, but last night I had a lovely yeasty coating. So I'm downing yogurt and drinking Swizzle (Thanks, DebC) by the teaspoonfuls. It actually seems to be helping, but my tongue still hurts from pushing so hard on my teeth. I would really like to know why I'm still dealing with this two years after chemotherapy, but my doctors don't appear to be interested in finding a reason.
Katie and I did a little bit of shopping today. We went to the Outlet stores and froze our patooties off. While I love the new outlet mall, I do have a gripe. It's an outdoor mall which means today it was freezing between stores. To keep warm while you're walking around you need a good coat. But the stores are kept so warm that I'm surprised people weren't passing out from heat stroke. So Katie and I decided to leave our jackets in the car. Which meant we were like icicles running around outside. We did warm up in Starbuck's after we finished our few errands and then, fortified with liquid heat, made a bee-line for the car. Except we couldn't find the car and it was windy making the 32 degree temperatures feel more like about 22 degrees and we were in long sleeved t-shirts and sweatshirts. I think our reason centers were frozen or something because we were laughing like idiots while Katie held my keys up over her head and continually hit the alarm button to no avail. Finally we realized we had come out the wrong way and were in the wrong parking lot altogether.
I am having to endure hockey on TV. I love hockey and, in fact, am going to a hockey game tomorrow. But I hate sports on TV. My unreasonable husband won't even look for something we both might enjoy because I'm typing on my computer. He didn't even care when I said I was almost finished. I think his recent illness caused a spike in testosterone or something. I could take advantage of his weakened state and make a grab for the remote...
I suppose this is enough mundane for one night. Until the next time.
The mundane ramblings of a busy homemaker trying to get out of housework
About Me
Name::Jenster From::Pennsylvania, United States
wife of a great man who loves me despite my lack of domestic skills ** mother of two pretty wonderful teenagers (and I really mean it) ** reader ** writer ** active member of a terrific bible church, serving women ** breast cancer survivor View my complete profile
I am usually proud of the fact that I'm pretty laid back and don't let things stress me out too much. But to say I never stress out would be such a lie. This week, for example, has pushed me nearly to the breaking point. This morning all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed with the covers over my head and cry until I fell asleep. But who has time for such behaviors?
Yesterday on Good Morning America they showed early polling sites with waits as long as nine hours. We keep hearing the election is really up to Pennsylvania so I figured our lines would be terribly long. I told Todd we should pack a lunch, take lawn chairs and a cooler, maybe a small battery operated TV and coordinate with the neighbors for a Voting Line Party. Is there a law against voting after consuming margaritas?
Todd is having oral surgery in about an hour. Not quite three years ago he had a root canal, post and crown in one of his lower molars. It never felt quite right and a week or so ago it was decided the root of the tooth is probably cracked. His dentist removed the crown and the post and today he goes to an oral surgeon to have the rest of the tooth removed and, hopefully, an implant inserted. After a few months he'll go in an have a crown applied to the implant.
I never used to think of myself as stubborn. I was an easy going, laid back kid who most of the time never had to have her way. I was usually happy to do whatever my friends wanted to do. It wasn't until I had Taylor that I realized "stubborn" comes in all shapes and sizes.
After that was a trip to the biggest Bed, Bath and Beyond I've ever seen. Of course, I didn't see anything I needed or even wanted. Until I was about to leave, that is. I decided to make a quick perusal of the clearance section and I found a beautiful Gorham Lady Anne tall vase to go along with the rest of my Lady Anne pieces. It's a $60.00 vase and they had it on clearance for $20.00. Isn't it beautiful? How could I refuse??
