Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Same bad word that starts with an S. Different day.

Sometimes I swear that my life must be this big cosmic joke and God is sitting there laughing at the newest reality show called "The Life and Times of Dana." Seriously.
What's going on? How about I give you the bullet point version? Bullet points are soothing and make me feel better and less like I am whining incessantly, once again, about how craptacular my life is. And these bullet points are pink. I like pink. (Do not ask me what happened with the bullet points. They started messing with me. They are evil bullet points. EVIL!) Yes, I feel the soothing starting as we speak. Or that could be the Puffs scented with Vicks tissue that I have draped over my nose like a veil.

  • In case that last statement didn’t give it away, I am sick.

  • Yes. Again. For the 453rd time this year. I swear to God, I am sick of being sick (and if you are old, like me, any time you hear “I am sick” you hear Bill Cosby saying “and tired” as part of a joke that he did in a stand up routine where he was mouthing back to his mom. Or maybe it was Eddie Murphy. I don’t remember now).

  • I would like to blame Co-worker Rykken for infecting me but apparently the Cold Virus is a mystifying thing that cannot be transmitted in two days. Or so I have been told. My logic is that he was sick on Friday. I started coughing and sneezing on Sunday night (almost minutes after I got off the phone with Beth. Hmm. Maybe it was her. Yes. Because viruses can travel through phone lines (Did I mention that my sense of logic disappears when I’m sick? (Not that I have ever had a sense of logic))) and then threw up on Monday morning and now am this mass of pain and agony and red, scaly scale-like things on my nose.

  • Apparently Don Shelby broke ribs from coughing too hard. As you can imagine, hearing that has just made me more panicked. And less likely to want to cough. You know, because it was so much fun before some friendly person overheard me hacking up one of my lungs and thought “Hey! I’ll just add some joy to Dana’s day!”

  • Don Shelby is a member of the Channel 4 news team. You are not expected to know this unless you live in Minnesota. Or are a news junky.

  • Or is it junkie?

  • Whoever came up with adding the scent of Vicks to Puffs is a genius. It doesn’t really cure anything but it sure makes me feel less inclined to curl into a ball and cry.

  • And I am getting a cold sore. Because there wasn’t enough wrong with my face with the red scaly scale-like things.

  • Oh! And you know how I went to the OB-GYN last Thursday? Well, I have three options. I can a) get a Murina IUD, b) have something called an endometrial ablation or c) get a hysterectomy. Since the hysterectomy is more of a drastic, last ditch effort, we decided option B is probably the best way to go.

  • So I got a letter telling me about how I’d be meeting with OB-GYN Joy something or another. Until the door opened and Joy turned out to be Jory. Not that I have a problem seeing a male doctor but still, it’s amazing how big of a difference an R can make.

  • Yes. So my options all involve having something stuck up my lady parts. No avoiding that. But the ablation seems to be the best because that’s a 90 second procedure that is typically on an out-patient basis BUT because I have sleep apnea, I may need to spend the night so I should bring my CPAP and plan accordingly.

  • Guess when the only day they have open for this procedure is. Guess. Yes. On March 12th. On my vacation. On the day after my 41st birthday. Woo-hoo. Great planning there, guys.

  • But it’s a good thing because apparently the problem is that my uterine lining is thicker than it needs to be and the ablation involves lots of technical stuff that I don’t really get but will mean that, after the procedure, I will be able to walk on the beach wearing long flowing white outfits. According to the brochure for Novasure.

  • I’m just excited that maybe I won’t have to worry about gushing (blood, urine and/or clots. Yay me) every time I blow my nose or cough. Sorry, Joe. Possibly too much information. Yet again.

  • I was out sick Monday and Tuesday and have 453 monitorings to do before the end of the month. When am I going to do them? This weekend. So this means I don’t get to go and have a pre-“Scrapbooking Extravaganza” that I was planning on with Beth this weekend. I am very sad.

  • There are many other things that are irritating and annoying and also somewhat funny in a bizarre and tortured sort of way but I have to go home now so I can cough and whine to Keem about how I am dying and obviously I am dying because, instead of telling me to shut up because I am annoying, she has been very sympathetic. But there is one good thing. When I am sick, I get paranoid about germs. And how the germs are out there, waiting to get me. And then I clean. So I cleaned (partially) my room and found the battery charger for my camera that has been missing for months. So this is good. And also, Dilbert, Brevity and Get Fuzzy were incredibly amusing today. Good-bye. Stay away from me because I am sick.

            Monday, February 18, 2008

            Ultrasound was normal. Which is good, I guess.

            It just leads to the question "What the heck is wrong with me, then?"  Oh, well, I guess I'll find out on Thursday at the OB-GYN.  I hope.

            Had a great weekend hanging out with Beth and scrapbooking.  We got to talk to Johnny Saturday night, that was so awesome.  I actually accomplished 5 whole pages, complete with pictures!  Yay!  Found out that pictures developed through Flickr can be picked up at Target, which is good.  And they turned out pretty decent so yay, Flickr!  What is not good is when you tell the cashier that you only want to put $50 on your credit card and he charges the whole thing.  A quick trip to the bank should take care of this, fortunately this credit card allows me to make same day electronic payments.  And allows electronic statements.  And doesn't make you over your limit because of the stupid annual fee.  You know why?  Because Citi Financial doesn't charge an annual fee, unlike my stupid other credit card that I am going to pay off and then cut up.  Rat bastards.

            I hope you all had a good weekend.  I would say I would be around to read soon because I know I am way behind on many of my blogs.  Unfortunately Keem's mom was over this weekend and saw my bedroom and now I am banned from computer play until I clean my room.  Yeah.  Like that'll happen. 

            Friday, February 15, 2008

            Kidnapped! By Aliens! News at 11!

            Okay, there really weren't aliens.  And the news will not be at 11 because, well, this isn't that exciting.  Unless you are me.

            I strongly recommend that if you are a man (that would be you, Joe), that you close this page right now.  Because what is coming is not for the faint of heart. 

            So Wednesday I had an appointment to have a pelvic ultrasound.  It didn't sound overly fun but okay, it has to be done.  My lady parts (if you will) have been acting up and quite frankly, I'm a little sick of them.

            I call for a cab and spend a good five minutes arguing with the dispatcher about if a cab will pick me up at my apartment building.  Um, yes, lady, they will.  I get picked up here all the time!  Stop arguing with me!  Why yes, I would like to be called when they get here because I don't particularly like hanging out in the lobby.  It's a nice lobby, don't get me wrong, with Monet and Renoir pictures to look at and very comfy chairs but if I have a choice between the lobby and my apartment, the apartment wins.

            15 minutes later, my phone rings.  Your cab is here, I am told by a gravely voiced man.  Okay.  I'll be right down.

            Turns out that my cab driver had been waiting for 10 minutes and asked that I be called.  He had just been about to leave when I came downstairs.  Grr.  Stupid lady.

            I get to the appointment in time.  I had been told to make sure that I had a full bladder which I assumed was for a urine test.  No, I am told by the sweet Amanda who is my alien for the day, this is because the uterus is easier viewed through the ultrasound if you have a full bladder.  Since I don't feel like I am going to pee my pants any second, she brings me two 16 ounce glasses of ice water and tells me she'll be back in 30 minutes.  Okay.  I have a book.  I'm fine.  Plus I adore ice water and suck it down quickly.

            She does the outer exam and it goes fine.  Nothing overly painful.  Yay!  This is a piece of cake.  What were Kari and Co-worker Vivian talking about?  This isn't bad at all.  It must have been because they had these when they were pregnant.

            I get sent off to the bathroom and come back to find approximately 7 sheets folded and stacked on the little bed I was lying on.  Amanda tells me that they don't have gynecologist beds so there aren't any stirrups.  Therefore I am to prop my bottom on top of the sheets.  Riiiiigggght.  That's going to happen.  Amanda leaves, after asking me to undress from the waist down and get situated on the bed.

            Believe me when I tell you there is nothing more exciting than trying to maneuver your ass so you can sit on 7 sheets and lie backwards.  It was, in a word, embarrassing.  Fortunately I did not actually fall out of the bed.  And, after removing two of the sheets, I did manage to get situated, thrusting my girly parts into the air.

            Amanda returns.  She explains what is going to happen, she'll be using some sort of medical device to get an image of my uterus, fallopian tubes and ovaries.  She shows me the device and now I understand what Kari and Co-worker Vivian were talking about.  This thing is huge.  Amanda does say that not all of this is going to be inserted inside of me and that it is mainly to for her to use as a handle.  Amanda is a liar.  I swear she had that entire thing shoved inside of me.  And then she is showing me the different things that are viewed through the ultrasound. 

            And here is why I am referring to her as an Alien.  I was probed.  And the probing took forever and was not comfortable.  It wasn't overly painful at the time but I did feel the after affects.  At one point, she asks me about my job, what do I do, etc.  It was the oddest conversation ever or at least the oddest conversation to have with my hoo-ha propped in the air.  And, as I told her, reinforced my beliefs that sex is over-rated - it's messy and uncomfortable.  She laughed.  I was serious.  Although I wonder if this would have been as painful if I haven't been celibate for what?  It's been at least 8-9 years now. 

            I ended up leaving early on Wednesday to go home because of extreme pain due to cramps.  I spent close to 40 dollars on cabs.  Because there was the cab to work and then home when I missed the bus and was not going to sit around for another hour.  And the 3rd cab ended up getting sent to the bowling alley instead of my work.  Yes.  I can see how you can confuse them so easily.  The only good thing about it was the 3rd cab driver is someone I've had before and we have the greatest conversations about politics and religion without wanting to kill each other (he's Conservative, I'm very, very Liberal). 

            And then Thursday I left early again because I was cramping AGAIN and also started having a back spasm when Co-worker Jessica, Co-worker Rykken and Manager Cheryl  were handing out valentines.  We bought 95 cookies and Jessica filled out 95 valentines and we had to match cookies and valentines.  Which is much more complicated than you would think.  It took about an hour and finally I had to go sit down.  And then go home where I slept most of the day.

            But all is good, my parts seem to be back in order.  Of course there is the trip to the OB-GYN next Thursday and also the diabetic eye exam where I get to have my eyes dilated for the first time ever.  That should be fun AND exciting.  The only good part of the day is getting to have lunch with Kari. 

            I hope you all have exciting plans for the weekend.  I am going to hang with Beth and scrapbook!  I actually have developed pictures from Portugal.  I know.  It's been over 2 years.  What can I say, I am a slacker!

            Wednesday, February 06, 2008

            For once my body has done something that I like

            Long story short.

            I have been discouraged about diabetes.  Not enough to stop watching what I'm eating or about my levels.  Mainly it's just because I HATE poking my finger every morning and afternoon.  It hurts a lot. 

            I am tired and in major pain most of the time but especially early morning and at night.  My joints hurt.  My back hurts.  My fingers hurt.  Because, you know, I'm carrying a lot of extra weight.  Not really good for me but losing weight isn't going to happen overnight.  It takes time.  I know that.  Plus this is a bad time of year for me with all the barometric pressure changes. 

            Today I went to the doctor.  I haven't been since September.  You'll remember last month when my mom was making Kari freak out about my being diabetic and oh my God, I'm going to lose a leg and I better make an appointment right away.  So I did make an appointment and Kari went with me.

            First came the dreaded weighing.  I watch the numbers flash back and forth and am terrified by what I am going to see.  Finally it stops.  The nurse, Cindy, doesn't say anything.  I have to ask.  Did I lose any weight?

            Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.  I lost 10 pounds.  All the lettuce and the carrots and the sacrifice has resulted in something good.  I mean, yes, I still have an entire person to lose but it means a lot to have a result like this.

            Then there was the dreaded blood drawing.  I hate this.  My veins roll and usually I end up getting jabbed two or three times before they're able to get enough.  Cindy manages to fill a little tube and then gets the finger poking torture device so they can do an immediate test. 

            About ten minutes later, I am still sucking on my poor injured finger (still hurts now and let me tell you, that lancet was about 3 times as big as my Accu-Check one) when Deb comes into the room.

            We talk, I tell her about everything that's been going on, blah, blah, blah.  And then she tells me.  My A1C (Diana, I'm counting on you to explain what this is.  She told me but I have no clue) has dropped from 10.6 to 7.9.  I'm not exactly sure what this means but apparently it is very good and means that I don't have to go on insulin. Yay!

            Next week I get to go and have a pelvic ultrasound and then see an OB-GYN the week after that and also have a diabetic eye exam.  Doesn't that sound like fun?   This is because of the Bloody Hell that I've had for years and Deb said the next time it appeared, we wouldn't do Provera again, she's going to send my to the OB-GYN. 

            Deb:  There could be fibroids causing it but we need to look into it.  You are anemic and this might be the source of it.  Worst case scenario, there might need to be a procedure.

            DM:  As far as I'm concerned, you can yank the uterus out.  I'm not going to be using it for anything.
            Kari:  Yeah, mine too.
            DM:  Uh, no.  I am hoping for a niece (I'm not going to get one but I'm hoping.  Josh is going to remain an only child.  Which might be why Kari was looking for books on sharing today).

            So things are good.  And you doubted me when I told you I was okay, Mom.  Ha! 

            Friday, February 01, 2008

            OMG! WTF? And other acronyms of dismay.

            Today, as most days for me commence, I am staring into my 10X magnifying mirror, tweezers in hand, ready to do battle against the unruliness of my eyebrows.  I try to take a few minutes each morning to yank the little bastards out.  It, well, relaxes me a little.  Not as much as actually having them waxed does (I know.  I’m kind of a freak) but it helps me pretend that I actually have some control over my life and, well, let’s face it.  It’s really the only beauty routine I have.  I don’t wear makeup (even though I buy it for some reason.  I like to say I am girly enough to buy it but not girly enough to wear it).  I don’t really style my hair.  I’m amazed I actually take the time to brush my hair.

            Anyway, back to the plucking.  Today I am about ready to yank out the 453rd hair this week that is growing out of place and I see it.  There is wailing and gnashing of teeth.  This year, the year of reaching 40, has quite possibly been the worst year ever for me body wise and this is just the final straw.

            Yes.  I have a white eyebrow hair.  I know! 

            I can just hear the hilarious antics of my various body parts as they decide to pull this latest travesty.

            Eyebrow:  Hey!  You know what would be fun?  You know what would set Dana really over the edge?
            Various Body Parts:  What?  What?
            Eyebrow:  How about if I have one of my multitudes of children turn white?
            Various Body Parts:  Ooh!  That would be cool.
            Brain:  Wait a minute!  Wait just one gosh darn second here.  What is up with you people?
            Eyebrow:  What do you mean?
            Brain:  What do I mean?  What do I mean?  C’mon!  Let’s just think about what’s happened this year.  Dana turned 40.
            Eyebrow:  Yeah?  So?
            Brain:  So?  So what happened to her?  She got a foot spur!
            Right Heel:  Hee.  That was kind of fun.
            Brain:  And Left Knee decided to get possible arthritis.
            Left Knee:  Yeah.  I am somewhat evil.  Gosh, she looks like a total dork when she walks because of the stiffness in me and Right Heel.

            Brain:  And then Ears decide to stop working.
            Ears (in unison):  What?  Speak up, you whippersnapper!  We can’t hear you.
            Brain:  I SAID “AND THEN EARS…” Oh, never mind.  And if that wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, Blood decided that he had enough with just making her anemic and decided, “Hey!  I know!  Let’s hit her with Diabetes!  That’ll be great!”

            Blood:  Can I help it if I find it a total thrill to get out of the Body twice a day?
            Fingers:  Well, you didn’t think about us, now, did you?  She has to poke us and it hurts!  We’re going to go on strike and not release you anymore, Blood.

            Blood:  What?  You can’t do that!
            Brain:  Shut up!  Listen to me, Eyebrow.  Don’t do it.  Leave Dana alone.
            Eyebrow:  Too late.  It’s already done. 
            Brain:  That’s it.  I’m going on strike.  You can all deal without me.

            And this is possibly the excuse I’m going to give my boss for why I have absolutely nothing done today.  Think she’ll buy it?