Twist of Fate

So you know those tv shows where the guy just can't catch a break? The one where everything he does looks bleak, but in the end it all turns around in a surprisingly happy twist? Well I am beginning to think that character is my beloved husband. First he has this accident, then he is told that his recovery is going to be a bit different than they had anticipated. Now he gets laid off.
Yup...while he is home lying on the couch recuperating from a 23 foot fall, he is asked to come to the office for a meeting. Now this is not a shock to us, we have seen the writing on the walls for weeks. Since the genius HR person emailed him and said she was not sure they could afford his position any longer. Since he was getting daily phone calls from vendors saying that the company was going to be placed on credit hold for non-payment. So he gets to the office and the desk is cleared and here are 2 large empty boxes sitting on his desk. Hmmmm I wonder what could be going on here? DUUUUUH. The funniest part is that the HR bitch and his boss actually didn't think he knew what was going on. When he said to them that he knew it a few weeks ago they seemed surprised. Wow, what does it say for them when they think the people they hire cannot figure out what is going on when they (in writing in and email) say they are not sure they can afford his position. There IS a reason I call the owner of the company WalTARD.
Here is the thing...this is a bit of a delightful twist of fate for us. You see, had T not taken the flying leap that he did he would have been sitting at work doing his job and thinking that things were fine. He would not have had the financial backup of Workman's Comp paychecks coming in. He would have been working 60 hours a week only to find out that the company cannot make payroll. T got a severance and has the back up of Workman's Comp. They laid off other people who did not get the severance and do not have that back up. Again, the fates are looking out for us...in a weird way.
We do not regret our decision to move here. He does not regret working for the company that moved us 2000 miles from my family. You see, we know that at the end of this there will be the happy ending (not like in a massage parlor either). We count ourselves lucky that we got out of Colorado before the horrible job slump happened. There are no jobs there at all. Here Tim has opportunities and there are many exciting things going on within his industry. We are very positive about the outlook and know for sure that this will all end with a deep sigh of relief and with us being exactly where we need to be.
And we will be kicking it off with a party for all the laid off employees this weekend. And I will have a t-shirt made up for my husband. Drunk Unemployed Handicap...D.U.H. Hehehe.

Happy Anniversary!!!

This is my wedding cake, from my wedding EXACTLY 1 YEAR AGO today.

Yes, it is true...one year ago today I married the love of my life. My true soulmate. He is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. I never could have imagined the fascinating journey we would begin that day.

And what a first year...people say that there are a few big stressors in a person's life. They are marriage (or divorce), moving, job change and accident or illness. These are the things that can cause the highest amount of stress on a person. And can cause the most damage to relationships. Well, in our first year of marriage we have done all of them. It has been a hell of a year!!!

My wedding ring has always been a source of great pride for me...it took a long time to get here and I am so happy that I am married to Tand wearing his ring. My ring symbolizes our committment to each other, to our family and to our marriage. But now it also is a badge of honor. It has taken a lot for us to travel down the road we have gone down that last year. We have battled and there were times that I was unsure. We have fought each other, we have fought with others, we have fought with others FOR each other, and we have fought to be where we are. And, like any battle worn vet, we are stronger from it.

I know without a doubt that all of the trials and tribulations of the past year have been a gift to us. They have given us the opportunity to show each other what we are made of. We have been given the gift of seeing ourselves through our spouse's eyes. We have given each other the gift of pure vulnerability and the reward of the strength of arms to hold us tight during those storms. It has been a gift to learn and to live and to laugh through all of the past year.

I loved my wedding cake. At the time I thought there was nothing sweeter than that piece of cake being fed to me by my new husband. I had no idea that the tiny morsel of cake was nothing in comparison to the delicious life that I would start on July 7th with my husband and family.

Luck of the 7's......I took a gamble and won the jackpot!!!

This man is my hero.

This is myhusband 5 days after the accident that changed our lives. His arms are bruised and cut.

This man is my hero. This the only picture I feel comfortable posting after his accident. It has been 5 weeks tomorrow since the accident. And this man is my hero....I do not know how he does what he does every day. I only know that I am thankful every day that he does it for and with me.

For you my Lobster, you are my inspiration......

Now you will feel no rain
For each of you will be the shelter to the other
Now you will feel no cold,
For each of you will be the warmth for the other.
Now there is no more loneliness for you,
Because now you are two bodies
Yet there is only one life set before you.
Now enter into the days of your togetherness

That your days may be good and beautiful upon this earth

Where is Ashton?

It started as any other day would...alarm, shower, dash off to work. But that is where it ends. The rest of my day was an episode of Punk'd. I am certain I will be showing upon MTV any day now!

I drink 20 ounces of Pepsi, so I have to pee. The bathroom at the office is a community bathroom shared by all of the businesses in the building. There are 2 stalls in a 15 x 15 room. It started innocently enough, I go in and 1 stall is in use so I go to the other. Just as I am sitting the stall door, another woman came in to wait for the next available stall. I am just sitting down on the porcelain goddess when the giant air bubble that had been fermenting in my stomach for the last 3 days decided to burst. Just as my bubble started to burst, the door opened again. At the volume of a jet engine, PPPPPFFFFFLLLLLRRRRTTTT!!!! Well, the asshole explosion that I just had was also accompanied by the smell of a dead, fermented rabbit. What do I do? I cannot possibly sit there in my own methane anal leakage....so I finish my pee and walk out the door. Giggling and being sure to not make eye contact I say excuse me (for soooo many things at that moment) and wash my hands and leave.

Oh it does not end there, I go back to my office and I-M one of my friends about my latest faux pas (or more appropriately, fart pas). She instantly sends me the link to You tube. I click on it, not realizing that my computer speakers are at rock concert level and hear instantly PPPPPPFFFFFLLLLLRRRRRTTTTT!!!!! I panic and laugh hysterically while clicking on the X to completely close out the internet connection. Ok, where is the camera?

Oh but does it stop there???? NOOOOOO, not for me. I had even had a conversation with a friend about how my day would continue to be a practical joke. I had to take the husband to the hospital for a check up...we joked about how I would trip someone, or trip myself.

At the hospital with my husband, I hand him a water bottle without looking and I hit him in the face. I was sure that would be it....haha...that is the end of my day. Ummmm, no.

We go back to get the check and my husband is having sutures removed. He and I are joking around in order to keep his mind off of the painful cleaning procedure that is going on. One of the doctors walks in to talk to the doctor working on my husband and mutters a few things and then says my name. Now, it is very obvious that I am there with my husband. I have a purpose. The doctor turns to me and says, "Are you here for the research project?" WHAT???? Why does this woman feel ok to randomly look at a person and ask if they are part of a research project? IS it because I have developed a pronounced eye twitch due to the recent stress, or because of the planet sized zit growing just under my nose, or the slightly green color I have achieved from watching the doctor remove layers of skin and scab from my husband's wounds? Or is it the combination of all of the above? But really...do you just blurt that kind of thing out????

I finally stop snorting with laughter and we are almost ready to leave the hospital. We go to make the follow up appointment for an MRI. The woman making the appointment sucks away at her Tootsie Pop and clicks away at the keys on her computer. She finally acknowledges us and begins the checklist of questions for MRI procedures..."do you have a pace maker? do you work with metal? do you have any brain implants?" Ok stop right there..What? Do you have any brain implants??? No, but we'd like to add one. I literally had to leave the room I was laughing and snorting at that one. C'mon where is the camera???

Ok it must be done. We go home. I turn on the tv to watch our favorite show, Cash Cab, and make dinner. I listen intently to the question ready to beat my husband to the answer. Question: What it the simple explosive device insurgents are using against Americans in Iraq? My husband blurts out the answer IUD's!!!!! Yes, lover the Iraqi women are hiking up their burkahs and flexing their vaginal floor muscles and shooting the soldiers with their Intrauterine Birth Control Devices!!!!
Ok let me summarize my Candid Camera Award winning day.....It was very much like the end of the new drug ads....
"Research projects have shown the side effects include anal methane gas leakage, intense embarrassment, stomach cramps due to laughter, brain implant malfunction and uncontrollable intrauterine device discharge. "

In the Blink of an Eye

It started as just an ordinary phone call...a ring, a look at the caller ID and then I said, "Hi Babe." And then the next words changed so very, very much for my family.
"Honey, I need you."
Not I need you to pick up milk. Not I need you to hold my hand. I need you to meet me at the hospital.
My husband fell 2 stories from a tower crane he was inspecting for work. Is that the same amount of time that my heart sank to my stomach? The same amount of time for a million things to go through my mind?
He says, "It is not a big deal, don't worry." So at first, I didn't. I laughed a little and called him clumsy. He didn't tell me his fall was 2 stories from a tower crane he was inspecting. Just a fall, and a possible broken leg. I thought it was no big deal. I sang Happy Birthday to co-workers, I passed around a picture of my new puppy. And then I got in my car. And then I got the call from the paramedic.
It was serious. He had bones jutting out, and he would need surgery....that night. What the hell happened?? I drove for what felt like hours to get the 10 miles away thinking a million things. Isn't it amazing how rapidly the worst case scenarios can go through your mind?
I cannot describe the feeling when I walked into the emergency room and rounded the curtain and saw my husband bleeding, horribly bruised and cut and strapped to a backboard. My god, please god, no god!!! He did not break his leg. He, in fact, broke his heel bone....in half. And one of those halves came out his ankle and out the side of his leg. I held my husbands hand while he lay there in excruciating pain.
I held the hand of the man who has been my pillar of strength for so much and felt completely helpless.
Then they wheeled him away and told me to stay where I was. I did as I was told. I watched the hustle and bustle of an emergency room. I saw another person's life end through a pink and green curtain. I saw another person's life saved through that same curtain.
And I waited.
They took xrays and found what he had done to his heel. The prognosis? Surgeries, several surgeries possibly. Pain, arthritic pain for the rest of his life. And short term, he is off his feet for 4 months. Initially it seemed like not so bad..off his feet. And then the reality sank in. He is not just off his feet. He is out of commission. His pain killers have made him too sick to eat.
He has lost blood and weight and appetite.
So he is very weak. It saps him to get to the bathroom, so he had been using a urinal in bed. The things that we all take for granted that we can do, he can't. For the first few days he was unable to bathe himself. Can you imagine what that does to a person's psyche and self esteem?
And then we think, thank you god. We are so very lucky. He could have been the person whose life I watched expire behind that curtain. He could have been paralyzed. He could have been brain dead.
He is not. He is alive, he is there for me to look at. I can still feel his breath when I kiss him. I can still have his skin to touch. I can still hear his voice. I still have him.
In the blink of any eye it all changed. It may be a blessing in disguise. It is certainly a wake up call about the fragility of life.
Blink, yep he is still here.

Ahhh sweet family fun

I took a trip home to Colorado last week. It was at just the right time too. I so needed the refreshment of the sweet Colorado sunshine. But more than anything I needed my family. I so needed the reaffirmation of how truly lucky I am to have them. (Life) long story short, we all hated each other as kids. However, over the years we have grown very close.
I spent most of the first day with my sister. I so love spending time with her. She is the person I trust the most to be completely honest with me. We shopped and laughed and gossiped. My sister and I often try on clothes either over or under our clothes (depends on whether we are wearing a skirt or not). At one point my sister pulls a pair of pant on under her skirt, she does the shifting to look from all angles and decides that she wants it. As she is pulling down her newest clothing acquisition, in the middle of the store floor, her underwear go right along with it!! (had to have been the high point to the man near us that had quite obviously been dragged to the mall by his wife) Bare naked necessities for all the world to see! But as my sister always is, she didn't think anything of it pulled up her panties and waved at the shocked onlooker!!

The next day was full on family day. It was the sister and her husband, the mom, the brother, the kids, the niece the pure unadulterated joy!!!! Oh so many things about this day will live in T- family infamy! We ate, we drank and we played re-damndiculously stupid and funny games.

Now when I say we played games it is not like normal people play games. My brother is the most competitive person on the planet. Seriously, he made my sister cry once when playing Cranium!!! So my 22 year old niece is showing us this game she and her friends play called "Chicken Goggles". It is a game of pure strategy and athleticism for drunks. There are 4 moves in the game which follow the starting chant of "put your fingers in the middle, put your fingers on your diddle put your chicken goggles on (which is using your fingers to simulate glasses), woop". The 4 moves are right (woop), left (woop), reverse (woooooooooop) and skip (woopwoop). The game was getting tense, it was down to my sister, my niece and I. Woop, crap I am out. It is my sister and her daughter. My sister is intimidated and starting to show signs of fatigue. She begins to think, "what are the moves again?" So she does the reverse (wooooop). My competitive brother begins to heckle form the sidelines ," Who are you reversing to it is just the 2 of you?" Sister sees the error of her ways and decides to woopwoop. UGH brother begins to harangue and yell, "Still just the 2 of you genius!" Sisters eyes get bigger than the chicken goggles and she begins to panic. Brother yells, sister gets nervous woopwoop. My brother is screaming like a paint faced fan at the Super Bowl. My sister is beginning to look like some sort of looney bin escapee. woopwoop, woooooooop, woooooop, woopwoop!! Such fun.
Finally the chicken game ends and somehow a singalong ensues. We go through song after song. We separate parts for Paradise by the Dashboard, we debate the words of many songs. And our big finality was "You're the One that I Want". My sister is singing and pouring the wine. Ohhh big mistake!!! She puts her head down on the table. My brother then coaches her on how to properly be drunk...."ok," he says,"start breathing heavy and try not to let the mouth water." It goes on with brother leading my sister in drunk prayer to the porcelain god. Truly hysterical.
If I had a video camera I would be so rich.
God I love my family!!! I cannot describe how wonderful it is to be around this group of people that are loud and silly and sometimes rude. Because each and every minute that we are all of those other things, we are also a family that would do anything for the other!!!

Graduation

My son graduated today.
When he was 9 his father and I divorced. My ex had been cheating on me for months and left me for another woman, while I was pregnant with my youngest son. I never told my oldest son why we were getting divorced, I did not think that a 9 year old needed those details. Maybe I should have. Maybe he would be able to understand his life better. Both of the kids lived with me for the first year or so after the divorce. The oldest was never happy, not just regular unhappy...sitting on top of me punching me while I slept unhappy. One night while I was tucking him in to bed he asked if he could go live with his dad. Not angry, not mean...just matter of factly. We talked about it and he did just that. He left for the summer visit to his dad's and never returned. Never.
Oh he came back physically, but was never really there. The visits were stressful, as he became a teenager attributed his sullen moods to him being a normal teenager. As he got into high school the visits became fewer and fewer. I would call and call and call and never get a call back. I would talk to his father and tell him to have my son call me, he rarely did. He took up cross country and track, he would not share the schedule ith me. I was a few hours away and would have done anything to see my son run. I still called at least 3 times a week, leaving message after message. I sent letters and cards. I finally bought him a cell phone with certain rules, one of which was that he needed to answer when I called.
Things were great for awhile. We would have long great phone conversations that consisted of more than grunts on his end. They were about hopes and dreams and memories and thoughts and everything and nothing. I got remarried and he and his brother gave me away and it was beautiful. He was sweet and loving, reminding me of my little boy that I had lost so many years ago.
And then it all fell apart. I don't even know what happened. He stopped talking to me, he stopped writing, he stopped everything.
Once a month or so I would get a grunting call again or an email. But I kept on. I would email and call and leave messages and send letters. Nothing.
He grunted the date of his graduation to me. So I bought a plane ticket and made all kinds of plans to be there for his graduation. I sent him an email to tell him my itinerary and then asked what his schedule was so I could see him. He frankly told me that he would be far too busy to see me. They were not really going to have a party and his class was only 12 people so it was no big deal. I persisted and said it was a big deal, I was proud of him. He again said there was not point for me to come. It was no big deal, I didn't need to be there. I gave in, I changed my plans.
I used my plane ticket and went to see my family. And while visiting them I saw my son's graduation announcement and invitation proudly displayed on his aunts bulletin board, his grandfather's fridge and grandmother's counter. His uncle told me that he too got an invitation to the graduation AND to the party following it. I, however, did not.
My son graduated today.
And I was not invited.
I was the one who taught him to read, I was the one who taught him his multiplication tables, I was the one who took him to his first day of school. I was the one that he did not want there on his last.
My heart is broken in so many ways, from today's hurt and from all of the yesterdays too. I love my son so much. I loved him enough to let him go when he was so unhappy. I loved him enough to let him go down a path I would not have chosen for him. I love him enough to take the blame for all that he thinks I did to cause a divorce nearly a decade ago. If only he could see how much I do love him. I guess on the day of his graduation I am the one still trying to learn.
My son graduated today.
And I was not invited.

Would she really tell me?

A few days ago I had the distinct pleasure of going to the doctor...just in case you don't know me that is sarcasm. Before my doctors appointment I went to lunch with a fabulous group of ladies. Oh if I could come up with the words to describe that...I can only say it was a Laurel and Hardy sketch....but I digress. At the lunch I had a hot flash, a sweaty hot flash. My ladies assured me that it was hot in the restaurant, but I am sure it was not tropical hot in the restaurant.

I am at the doctors office and handing my paperwork UP to the technician and get a whiff. An overwhelming whiff of BO. I go to sit in my chair, ever so worried that I am offending the others around me. I do the stretch and nonchalantly check my underarms. I didn't smell anything. After many minutes I am shuttled back to the inner sanctum by a different tech. We get to the room and...there it is again. Coincidence? Me in two places and the same smell? Uh-oh! I ask the tech to direct me to the bathroom. I go in there and do the nose to the armpit...clear. I stretch and turn and sniff every part that I can get into a yoga position to smell. Now there is a visual for you...I look like Elaine off of Seinfeld doing her dance AND one of the Cirque de Soleil acrobats rolled up into one self conscious mess. But I am still smelling it. Crap!

I go back to my room and decide to talk to the tech...I mean woman to woman I can ask her anything right? I mean she looks at strange women's yonder regions with the doctor. Right? So I ask, " Do I smell? I mean, I keep getting this whiff of BO and I am afraid it is me. If it is me, tell me so I can go home and clean up before I offend." She says, "No, you don't smell." It as at first, combined with a look that can only be described as a woman stuck in a cage with a crazed animal. But that look flashes instantly to a, "how do I look believable" look. Of course, I chose to take her at her word, I mean she would tell me, wouldn't she??? WOULDN'T SHE??? She leaves and I am left in the room wondering...would she tell me the truth? Is she outside right now blogging about the insane patient that asked her to smell them?

Incidentally, the tech came in with the doctor and said that no, the smell was another patient. And the face she made with that comment is indescribable. Man I would hate to be the doctor stuck in the room with the woman who smell so bad that OTHER patients are worried about their personal odor.

Lucky

You know those sitcoms where everything is all rolled up and hunkey dory at the end? That is what my life is right this very moment. I am one very, very lucky girl. I am surrounded by the most amazing people, not only physically but also in my soul.
I have a husband who is the funniest man on the planet. He makes me laugh when I should be crying. He gets my stupid humor. And most importantly he loves my loud, boisterous snorting, head turning, public offending laugh. In fact he feels it is his mission on this planet to be sure that he hears that every single day.
But he is not just the man with "the great sense of humor", obviously it goes without saying the man is handsome. He is the kind of man that every woman wants...he is the man that tells me every day that my jiggly butt is the cutest thing he has ever seen. (Hey I didn't say he has good eyesight). I was lucky enough to find a man that can look at me and without words make me feel his love from across the room.
I have the most wonderful son. He is a handful...but what boy isn't. There are days that he makes me wonder if every parenting decision I have ever made was wrong. And then there are days like today. My young son has been under the weather. He has the flu and all he wants is his mom to make it better. All the advil, dayquil and ginger ale are not as good as having his mom rub his fevered forehead. I know it sounds silly and cliche, but it is little things like these that make me know I am a good mom. I know without a doubt that my son knows I love him and that I am here for him. I know he is having, and will continue to have, struggles, but I feel pretty good with the knowledge that my baby knows he can count on his mom. And with some of the things I see and hear at work I have come to realize this is far from common.
I have found a group of women the likes I have never had the pleasure of having friendships with. They are all wise and funny and delightful in their own way. They each bring an abundance of joy to me. There is the one that I can be mushy and girly and share deep insecurities with. There is the one that is silly and goofy and I get to be the carefree junior high girl I never got to be. There is the one that is deep and brooding that makes me think and want to learn and achieve. Separately the are wonderful, as a group the are beyond fantastic. These are the people that I know I am lucky enough to call friends. They are new to my life, but I feel that they are a very old part of my soul.
I have a family, although so far away, that holds me in their loving arms every minute of the day. A sister who knows my deepest darkest feelings and doesn't judge. The woman who I credit for a large part of my strength. I have a mother who lives every day to figure out how to help her children. Usually to her own detriment. I have a brother who has helped me and that I have not been good enough to, but would still slay any dragon for me. I have a father who has a gruff exterior, but can melt my heart with just the words "I love you." I have a brother so far away that I miss terribly, and rarely get to see. But when we do it is heartwarming and fun.
I live in a home that is beautiful and full of love. Not the dwelling, not the walls and ceilings...the parts inside. The joy, the laughter, the tears and the slamming doors, the hugs, the kisses, the sound of music and the drip of a faucet. All of the things that surround us in the deep of the night.
So I sit in the middle of the night, in this darkness, in my sitcom and smile. My day ends like so many television shows do, with the main character flashing to all of the important characters in her life and realizing how very, very lucky she is that the fates have written her episodes so very full and rich.

It's hereditary

Ahhh the poor kid. He doesn't stand a chance. He grew up with me as a mother. I am an admitted Shoeaholic. We're talking hundreds. I have over 10 pairs of black high heels alone. My sister, she is a shoeaholic too. It seems only normal that my child that was forced to go shopping with the sister and I would be a shoe fiend as well, right?
Well the boy felt the urge for new shoes as he was shopping with me, for what else, shoes. He knows just the right button to push to get me to contribute to his habit. He actually needed a new pair of running shoes, so we go to the sporting goods store named for the male genitalia. At this point I say, "Sonny o' mine, make sure you have a right and a left and they are the same size." Ahhh it is good, now it is off for pleasure shoe shopping.
We skeedaddle over to the "other side" of the mall and ahhhhh the shoe store. I am busy perusing the pumps and platforms and he is off doing his own thing. As I am deciding how I can possibly be buried in this section of Nordy's he comes trotting over with his little nugget of shoelove. We purchase our latest little hit of leather Ecstasy and trot off home.
Now young son is a bit fussy about his clothes. He wants just the right look. Whilst driving home I could practically see his fashion plates being shifted to get the right look for the new shoes. We get home and young son gallops in the house anxious to show off to his stepfather his newest addition to the addiction. He goes and gets them laced, and I don't know if you know this or not, there is a STYLE to the shoelaces. He puts on the outfit (yes, outfit, metrosexual anyone) and gets ready to slide his feet into nirvana. Ohhhh, right foot in leather and shoelace. Left foot...left foot...what the???
Young son has 2 right shoes.
Poor kid...he is born with a defective gene.

...and sometimes a medical drama

*sigh* **heavy sigh**
I sigh because my alternatives are limited...I can drink, be angry and punch something, take pain killers or scream in fury. Here is the back story...I have been dealing with a medical issue for years. Yes you heard right, YEEEEAAARRRSS. I have been told that my horrifying pain in my pelvis is due to endometriosis. Not by one doctor, not by two, but by three. Count them, three doctors that have collectively gone to school longer than I have been alive. I think. I could be wrong.
The first doctor I went to about my pain initially told me that "women get these things around the time of their period because it causes water retention. Water is retained on the brain which causes women to have pains in their body and changes their ability to think clearly." Yup, Mr MD told that. A short few minutes later I nearly kicked him in the head when he tried to perform what should be a routine pelvic exam. You see, good doctor apparently didn't take the fact that I told him that my pain was excruciating. So good doctor nearly got a lovely size 8 upside his pumpkin ass head.
So after Pumpkin head gets done poking and prodding in my nether regions, he informs me that I "either have cancer or endometriosis." Hmmm, ok. So he sends me for tests and off to a "specialist". I use the word specialist loosely. Dumb fucking skank that obviously failed any social classes and I am sure is low doctor in the graduating class. So Dr. Number 2 decided that I do indeed have endometriosis and it is on my kidneys and bladder and that the path of treatment will be hormonal. I have already told Doctor #2 that hormones are not my friend, but she advises me that she knows best. Doh, ok. She gives me Lupron. Lupron is a medication that is shot in my ass with the consistency of corn syrup. Well what Lupron does is throw me into medicinal menopause. At 35 I was in menopause. Well I get this big pamphlet with all the if, ands or but and all of the bodily functions I will either miss or have to excess. I am due to have excess body hair, but not on my head..on my face, back and chest..goody I'll look like Sasquatch. I will experience hot flashes, I will either have constipation or diaherrea, I will gain weight and be dizzy and not be able to sleep. Sounds good so far. Surely Dr. #2 will monitor things for me. Errrr no.
Four months into the treatment I am not feeling all that much better, in fact I have gained weight, I have become a complete raving lunatic (by the way I was planning my wedding as well!) my pain had barely subsided and I had yet to see my doctor again when I went in for my shots. Surely a doctor should see their patient after throwing them into a complete body altering chasm. Right??? Apparently that is far too much to ask. So I flip out and call the doctors office and tell them where they can shove the Lupron until I see the doctor. Blah blah blah....she tells me that I am being overemotional. HELLO?!?!? Hey bitch have you just had all of your female hormones pulled out of your body instantly? Have you had a bowel movement this week? Do your bras cover most of your breasts? Do you have an amusement park ride in your head spinning uncontrollably? Do you have to check your chest for new hair growth, just in case? (that one I never got thank god) She asks me how I feel the treatment is going. How the hell should I know? I don't know if I am supposed to feel this or that. I don't know if it is supposed to be pain free days or if I am supposed to have an antler growing out of my eyebrow. There is only so much that the drug company's rhetoric that I can read!!! Honey, if you want me to design your bathroom I am your girl, you see that is what I went to school for.
I finish the treatment, what the hell. But the pain is still there. Oh the pain...is like a searing hot piece of reebar that is poking inside of me and pushing out of my insides. You know that scene in Alien where the baby pops out of her stomach. Same thing, but the baby stays inside pushing a flaming hot poker out.
Well then I move to a new town and think hmmmm new doctors. Woohoo, I will get this finally taken care of. Go to Doctor Delightful. She seems caring and asks all the right questions and sends me for tests and xrays and scans and blood work. Aha...I have found my savior. All the test come back saying that I have, guess what...endometriosis. According to her I have "hundreds of cysts covering the front and back of my uterus and on my ovaries. There is free flowing fluid in my abdomen". And she merrily sends me off to another "specialist" and tells me that I will be scheduled for laproscopy. It is the best thing to alleviate my pain.
So wait the obligatory month that is obviously written somewhere that says you may not see any doctor earlier than 30 days from the date the appointment is made. Angels sing and I have a spring in my step. The day is finally here. I am going to the doctor to get the surgery scheduled and bless allah it will be all over. I am happy dancing even through the ridiculous weigh in (for a consultation??). I sit anxiously watching the door. And in it walks. The bearer of ridiculous news. Doctor Dismal completely contradicts everything that has been said to me before. She tells me that I have one or two cysts. She tells me that I most likely do not have endo and that the likelihood that suregery will end my pain is 20%. I am baffled, I ask her why then am I there? If this is all so then why did the CT scan not find anything else???? Why have the other doctors told me the complete opposite? She answers by saying that she cannot speak for other doctors. She tells me that this could just be a "nerve misfiring" in my pelvis. Her suggestion....her plan of treatment...her prescription.....is for an antidepressant.
WTF??? That ladies and gentlmen is the state of American medicine . Give it an anti-depressant. I incredulously ask her why I would be prescribed an anti depressant. Her answer, "It is for the nerve in case it is misfiring. I figure it can't hurt, you may as well try that until I can get you in for surgery." The aforementioned surgery that has only a 20% likelihood of stopping my pain? I am aghast. Is this a joke? Is there a camera in there? This lady goes into her gyno's office for pain in her uterus and comes out with antidepressants...yukyukyuk. It totally sounds like a joke.
Well my answer to her and to all of them is to take their degrees and shove them up their various orfices. I have decided to take my body into my own hands (ewww) and be done with western medicine. I will use refelxology, accupuncture, macrobiotics, chiropractic, whatever it takes. I am not taking any more medicine. I am not going to put another thing in my body that has a list of side effects that is longer than the items is it useful for.

And I am going to start with a double dip chocolate brownie ice cream cone and maybe a bottle of merlot.

For the Girls

Well girlies, this is for you. I have been telling you all of the ridiculously stupid things that my life consist of. Now it will be out there for the whole world to see. But first...a small tidbit about little ol' me.

I was born a poor Russian immigrant on the streets of Timbuktu, dropped there by my Polynesian parents when they went on a mission to save the Dodo birds from extinction.
ORRRRRRR....I was born a basic girl, to a fairly normal (I am finding out now) family in Colorado. Blah, blah, blah...I grew up to be the fabulous person I am now.

I am lucky to be married to my soul mate, (cue the sappy music now). And as far as silly starts to a life, how is this one? On our first date, I spit food on the fella. Yup, spit chunks of cracker on him. He says that is how he knew I was the one for him. Interesting since I really didn't even like the man at that time. But the man is patient, yet persistent, and he ended up winning me over.
Just so you know, this is the man that wants to invent the seeing eye midget. Yes, it is to benefit the blind as well as the unemployed "small people". He is quite the humanitarian that man.

I am a mom to 2 boys....notice I didn't describe them. They are boys and they are my boys...sometimes they are the absolute joy of my life. Other times they are the reason I wish I had a lock on my closet....on the inside!!!

Future posts to my blog may or may not be funny. Although, I can almost guarantee that most of them will have some sort of pain. Usually it will be a general ache in my pride, because I AM the girl that Murphy wrote his famous law about.Yup, if it can go wrong I will be the girl there stepping in the middle of it.

So new friends, and old ones that forced me to blog....welcome to the script to what should be a fantastic Network Sitcom!!!!!

Workout wonder

So I just went to the gym..now I get an hour for it...10 minutes to change, 40 minutes for workout and 10 to change again. I dash in and change, not an easy feat. Today I was standing in my mens biker brief underwear and struggling to get my ample busom into not just 1, but 2 sports bras. (Yeah these girls cannot be held with just one). There are a few other girls there asking about my choice of undergarments. Odd and uncomfortable, right? FF to actually working out. I'll admit, I am a sweaty gal. I am plugging away on the treadmill, feeling pretty good about the fat I was melting. I am sweating like an ape. I dash over to work the machines to lift for my upper body. Pump, pump, pump then sit down..look in the mirror...and see a giant sweat spot in my, well...sweet spot. Yes indeed I looked like I had pissed my pants. I forge ahead sort of laughing at myself and wiping each machine diligently. I go back to the locker room hoping to God those ladies are not in there to bask in my glory. Have you ever had to take off a sports bra (or 2) while disgustingly sweaty? I swear I looked like a sci-fi monster with my yellow and purple bras and pasty white arms flailing about. Oh if that is not enough, I do a quick whore shower and not quite dried off have to put my tights back on. Another battle with lycra!!Good god, I certainly hope that all of the struggle to get to and from the gym counts as calorie burning!!!es, this is a true story, and an example of my life and my own issues....