Is it really so hard?

Have I mentioned that I really don't like my primary care doctor? As I've mentioned, I had an appointment with her on Wednesday morning. 9:50 am.
I arrived, as I was ordered, 15 minutes early. Only to be informed that the doctor is running about 40 minutes behind. I get that doctor's are people, and shit happens. But, as their sign on the front of the office informs me, were I to be more than 10 minutes late, I would have to wait until the end of the service hours to be seen. So, what's my recourse when the doctor wastes my entire morning?

When I finally got to see the doctor (nothing major, looking for a referral to a dermatologist for the weird calcium deposit type things that have been appearing on my face), she never once looked me in the eye, only looked in my general direction to examine my skin, never asked a question beyond, "and what brings you in today?", and immediately dismissed my concerns adn declared the issue, "acne." Look. I've had crappy skin for as long as I can remember. However, this? Is not acne. Acne eventually heals and goes away. These little lumps have been on my face for over 6 months. That, my little friend, ain't normal.

But she referred me, which is all I wanted out of the deal. Then she picked on my weight for a while (she "wasn't aware" I'd had a baby. Nice communications Kaiser!), and started to leave the room. In my experience, every doctor's visit ends with "Do you have any questions?" or "Any other concerns?" Not this one.

I had to stop her from leaving by yelling out. I told her my dad had had a stroke last year, and since that means I now have a solid family history of heart disease, what I need to do, medically, to maintain some semblance of preventive testing.
She mumbled about losing weight (jackass), watching my diet, getting exercise. I asked about getting physicals, since that's kind of the only way you can check on cholesterol etc. She dismissed me with, "well, since you had a baby you don't really need to do anything else. They test you for everything."

Look, I get her point. You spend your entire pregnancy having blood drawn and people checking into every minute detail of your health. But, her manner of speaking is terrible. I walk out of her office feeling horrible every time, and that my concerns are never listened to, and like she can't WAIT to get out of that room. And it's always been like this.

So, the simple answer is: get a new doctor. Which I always mean to, but since I usually go a few years between primary care visits, I rarely get pissed enough to take action. But this time, I'm out. Bitch is fired.

Grrrr.

I found a new dentist last week, which was delightful, but he asked me if I grind my teeth. I've never caught myself grinding, so I said I didn't think so.
Of course, now I can't stop grinding my teeth. Pleasant.

Warren decided that 2 am is precisely the time to wake up for the day. Xtian and I spent a couple of hours trying to get him back to sleep, without any luck. So, I gave up around 4:45 am and just called it "morning." So not thrilled right now. And I know, if I just feed him, he'll go right back to sleep, but if I JUST broke him off the habitual wake up for food he had going on. This is some bullshit and I'm not dealing with it well. I'm fairly certain I totally cussed him out at 3 am. Luckily, he doesn't know how to say "GO TO SLEEP, YOU LITTLE FUCKER!" yet. Oh lord, I have a lot of parent/teacher conferences in my future.

My sister and her girlfriend are in town this week getting everything set up for when they move here in three weeks. I'm so excited to have them close by, makes me want to never leave the bay.
But then I'll drive by a brand new Lincoln Navigator missing it's entire rear, wheels and accessories (clearly stolen then dumped in my neighborhood after being in an accident), I think, "What the hell are we doing here?"

My brother graduates from rehab tomorrow, so I'll be scarce around these parts for a bit. (Like you'd be able to tell, right? Man, I'm a shitty poster.)

Anyhow. Time to eat. Hurrah.

Recap, to beat the band

Ok, we'll do this chronologically, since I'm too lazy to put any narrative arc in here. I ended up leaving work around noon on Friday. I'm SO glad I did, as I only received ONE email for the rest of the day, and it had nothing to do with me. Nothing was missed at all. Instead of working, I went to the gym and had a nice long workout. I couldn't manage to get any kind of a sweat going though, and that was weird. Must have been dehydrated or something.
I opted not to pick Warren up from daycare, and made brownies for my friend who's in the hospital. (Yes, I brought brownies to a diabetic, that makes me an asshole. But whatever, it's what she wanted). We had tacos and guacamole for dinner, and it was decidedly awesome. I've come to the conclusion that guacamole is the perfect food. I'm pretty sure I could eat it every single day and never become bored of it. *sigh*

Warren let me sleep in on Saturday, so by the time I got up, I had to rush to clean the house and get him bathed and make it to Walnut Creek to meet Jen and her man-friend so we could all go visit my friend in the hospital. (Whose name is also Jen. Of Course it is.) She looked so much better than she has for months. She's eating pretty regularly, and putting some much needed weight back on. She got to hold Warren until he started fussing at the strangers.
The funny part was, Jen's man-friend was able to hold Warren for a really long time, and Warren never fussed! He's a guys guy apparently. It was pretty sweet.

We got home from the hospital in time to finish cleaning the house, then get dressed for a wedding. I discovered that the dress I was so pleased with the weekend before, was a size too big, which wasn't so bad, except the neckline was SO low that the extra size made it obscene. Especially when you've got breastfeeding boobs sticking way out on your chest. But the wedding was fun, I drank a ton of champagne and felt excellent the next day. Which is a big step for me since I've been getting nasty headaches no matter how little I drink.

I spent a few hours on Sunday beating my garden into submission. I hadn't been able to do any gardening last year since pregnant ladies and pesticides/cat shit don't mix well. I think one more day of work and it'll be pretty usable again. I'm so looking forward to having my own herbs and veggies to use again. I really hate buying fresh herbs, since they always go bad before I can use them all.

Xtian took Warren off my hands for a bit on Monday so I could lay in bed and read for a few hours, completely uninterrupted! I haven't done that since before Warren was born, and it was...Awesome. Just fantastic. I could go for some more of that. In fact, I only got out of bed because it was time to start making dinner.

And now it's back to the grind. I'm trying to occupy my mind with work and not on Warren's doctor's appointments next week. How does one do a CT Scan on a five month old? How do you get them to hold still long enough? But my mom and sister are coming down for the appointment to offer some support. Which is good, I need more people in the room to hear what the doctor's say. Since I tend to hear one scary thing, fixate, and miss everything else. At least we'll finally know what the plan is...I hope.
I've been holding off making any plans for the rest of the year since I have no idea what will be going on. If he needs surgery, and recovery time, when things will happen...I hate being absolutely clueless.
But, my gut feeling is, he's going to need the surgery. His head is just looking less and less normal as time goes on. And yes, I'm being hyper aware, but that doesn't mean the problems aren't there.

You know, I'm pretty into doing research, and reading every baby related piece of information that comes my way. I've researched all the common and not so common things that go on with babies. And I've never heard of craniosynostosis before. But now, everything I've found on it mentions that it's fairly common. Like 1/2000 kids. If it's really that common, WHY HAVE I NEVER HEARD OF IT? Is this one of those things that parents just don't talk about? Fuck, people, get the personal experiences out, already!

Ok, superlong, boring ass update...complete. Maybe some fun stuff another time. I'm exhausted.

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

Back in the saddle again.
So, a week up with my parents, helping out while mom recovers from surgery. My mother is a rock star it turns out. A week after having one organ removed and about six others repaired (hello prolapsed organs! Get back where you belong!) and she’s already back at work. Dear lord do I hope I have more of her genetic makeup than any one else’s!

My dad is still iffy. After his stroke a few weeks ago, he’s lucky in that there’s no paralysis or brain damage. But, they’ve yet to figure out what is causing his skyrocketing blood pressure, constant headaches and a litany of other things. This all landed him back in the emergency room last Friday, and no one could give us any information or help. I’m so glad my older sister was there for the ER visit. Having her go and understand a little better about what’s going on was such help. I stayed home with mom and tried to keep her distracted, but didn’t do so great of a job. It’s the first time my mom broke down in front of anyone about dad’s health. And it scared the hell out of me. I can’t imagine how scared she must be.

When I left to come back to Oakland, I cried the entire drive down. I don’t feel very good about leaving. I don’t know what else I can actually do, but I hate being far away, and I hate feeling helpless. Not that there’s much I could be doing if I were still up there either. But shit, this sucks. I can’t even talk about it out loud because I just cry. So instead I write about it.

But yeah. Had to come back to town for another round of ultrasounds on Mocha Cub. MC is proving to be the silliest little fetus there ever was. You may recall at the last ultrasound, MC would not allow a number of measurements to be done. Shaking his/her head “no” throwing hands in front of the wand every chance he/she had, etc. This time, we got the last few measurements, but just for fun, this kid had both feet above its head, peaking between the knees. Apparently, even though I’ve dropped the ball on prenatal yoga, MC is really into in utero yoga.

But apparently this kid is going to be a chunk. We’re still measuring almost two weeks ahead of what the doctor says (which makes perfect sense based on my cycle dates), and is weighing in at about 1 pound and 15 ounces (give or take 4 ounces). So, with about three and a half months left, this kid is set to be the hugest monster ever born. Why am I still aiming for a natural, drug-free delivery? Oh yeah, because I am retarded.

So, I’m sitting at work, and even after being gone for a week…still nothing to do. I have a month to write a newsletter, and 10 days to put together some artwork. Frankly, this could all be done in a couple of days. But then what would I do? Instead, I’m trying to read all the blogs I didn’t read over the last week. Hope y’all are doing well. Maybe I’ll have some less boring/depressing stuff to write later. But that doesn’t seem very likely these days does it?

Cryptic no more!

So after 3 days of migraine fun, and 8 hours of being ignored by my doctor, I landed in the emergency room. I got there at 5 pm. I got back home at 2 am. Hurray! Not.
But the lovely ER doctor pumped me full of narcotics in an effort to kick my migraine’s ass. As a side effect, it made me completely high for about 45 minutes. The migraine receded enough for me to go home, take some Tylenol (fucking joke of a painkiller that!) and spend the rest of the weekend feeling hungover.

Normally a migraine wouldn’t be that big of a deal. I take an assload of drugs, pass out, and eventually wake up with only a minor headache (instead of the inability to deal with light, sound and SMELLS leading directly to overwhelming nausea). However, for those who figured out what I meant in my last post, this girl has finally gotten herself knocked up. So, that puts a big fat kink in the whole “taking any reasonable medication to kill pain” thing. It also means that I have to have a 30-minute discussion every time I call my doctor’s office. I have to answer the same litany of questions, usually no fewer than 4 times every time I come within 10 yards of medical personnel. And when I’m feeling fine, it’s not big deal. When my brain is trying to escape the captivity known as my skull, however, the questions make a Coley a little psychotic.

And even better, since several symptoms of migraine mirror that of pregnancy, it takes forever to explain to people, that NO, it is NOT because I’m gestating. The nausea only got this bad when the migraine kicked in. And no, you cannot prescribe me vicodin, it will kill my fetus. Sometimes, it’s funny when you have to explain to doctors and nurses WHY you can’t just pop a handful of Ibuprofen and call it a day. You’d think some portion of medical school would cover the whole “NSAID’s can cause miscarriage” thing. Glad I’m paying them for their expertise.

So, all that said and done, this kid better be fucking cute.


~~


I have a doctor’s appt. today, and I’ve been asked to provide a urine sample. And for the squeamish, yes, I’ll be discussing URINE in a moment. Consider yourself sufficiently warned.

I remember urine samples used to involve a rather large plastic cup. Apparently, that was too easy. Instead, the doctor’s office gave me a vial for my urine sample. A vial with an opening no more than 2/3 of an inch in diameter. Excuse me? How am I supposed to pee into that? Oh, by pissing all over my own hand?
Spectacular. I’m so glad I’ll be doing this every month for the next 7 months. Just glorious. I knew pregnancy would be filled with indignities, I just didn’t think the doctor would be adding on new ones.

So to recap: Migraines suck. Coley’s having a Mocha Cub (our favorite pet-name for the baby), doctors are absolutely ridiculous with the urine sample vial.

My Cats Had Better Appreciate this...

Last week, I wrote about spending $424 at the vet’s office, for three healthy cats needing only immunizations and checkups. I was really annoyed about the amount of money that cost me, but was at least comforted knowing that I wouldn’t have to do this again for at least two years.

One of my cats (I’m looking at you, Maggie) has been pissing on the floor, directly outside the litterbox for the last couple of months. I’m pretty sure she’s showing her displeasure at Sarah’s taking over the cats’ bedroom. (Yes, the cats had their own room. It was just by default though, I promise. Not like I furnished and decorated it for them or anything. Don't you judge me.) But, just to be sure, I asked the vet about it, who gave me the tools to snag a urine sample from her, or they’d want to do a sonogram for a cool $350. Since I am cheap, and am sincerely convinced nothing is wrong with the cat, I opted for the cheaper “Do-it-yourself” method, involving a syringe a vacuum-sealed tube and a drive back to the vet. She gave me instructions on how to get a sample, how to preserve the sample, and mentioned that I should get some tooth stuff for the other cat.

When I checked out and paid at the front desk, they glossed over the details of the bill. Revived me when I passed out at the damned total, then showed me all the stuff they were sending home with me. (Flea/tick control, tooth stuff for Vickie, sample gathering stuff for Maggie’s piss) In this bag, she also showed me two sample containers preprinted with the kitties’ info. The lady at the desk said the vet needed a fecal sample (forgive me for just saying EWWWWWWWW!!!) from the older two cats. She gave detailed instructions on how to get it, how soon the vet needed it back and all that fun stuff. She reassured me about the cost, “Well at least that’s it for a couple more years!”

The next day Maggie took it upon herself to piss on the floor. So, there’s that sample taken care of. We put off bringing the sample back, hoping we could also get the required poo samples and only make one trip back to the vet. This was not to be, as the cats went on a hunger/poo strike. We finally gave up and just brought the one sample, figuring we’ll deal with the others as needed.

So, we’d been manning the catbox for several days, waiting for one of the cats to leave us something. Of course, my cats are assholes, and would only use it at night or when we weren’t there. Until Friday, when I caught Maggie leaving the scene. I quickly, and with only minimal gagging, packaged up the sample and dropped it at the vet’s office.

Later that night I noticed I had voicemail. “Hi, this is Sharon from the Vet’s office. You dropped a sample off today, and it seems that this lab wasn’t prepaid. So, you do have a balance on your account. We’re going to need you to come in and pay this balance at your earliest convenience.”

Ex-fucking-cuse me? If I had told that picking up my cat’s SHIT and driving it to the vet was going to cost me more, do you think I would have done it? The answer is NO. I repeat: NO!

So, I’ve come to a decision. I have healthy, indoor only cats. They are well fed, well watered, and well loved. But, I am as now, never taking them for a routine check up again. If there is something wrong, sure, I’ll take them. (And by something wrong, I mean their legs fell off) But I will never be screwed out of that much money again.

And before anyone mentions those goddamn “clinics” held at Petco or wherever, allow me to tell you this story:

When we first got our little Fiddy, he was barely 4 weeks old, his face had been badly burned and his tail had been broken. He was found abandoned and alone at a barn in the hills. I heard about him, adopted him and brought him home to be loved on. He was too young for shots, and needed to be loved and taught to like people again. So, after about 6 weeks, he’d healed up nicely and was starting to trust humans again. We hadn’t found a vet we liked yet, so just to get the immunizations going, took Fiddy to one of these assembly-line clinics.

They put him on the table, put a metal and rubber tourniquet around his leg and tried to draw blood while Fiddy cried. Except, the tourniquet got stuck in his fur. So, the tourniquet is on, but the needle is out, so he’s shooting blood out of his leg and the tourniquet is RIPPED off while I yell at them to stop hurting my baby.
They then rip his mouth open; shove some shit down his throat while he’s STILL BLEEDING. A few more shots later we’re sent home to deal with the aftermath, as Fiddy has now been abused again.
So, no. I will not use one of these clinics ever again. I cried for a long while after that experience, and I’m not putting any of my animals through those incompetent hands again.

I also will not put my poor wallet through the abuse of my normal vet. I’m out.

Ass, Vagina. Not like that!

Can I call an official moratorium on calling people who plan to procreate “breeders”? It’s just obnoxious. Shall we call people who don’t plan to procreate “sterilized”? Yeah, didn’t think so. Eat my ass people. My plans for my uterus have fuck all to do with anyone else. (Did that seem a little annoyed and defensive? It did, didn’t it? I shall try to move on).

Ok, now that that’s done… So tired. My eyes look like two pinholes in a puffy, undercooked pancake. Oh, and to top it off, red, painful zits, two of them, developing right on the tip of my nose. Say it with me, people! “Hot.”
Yes, that’s me. But, you know what makes me feel better about that? I finally got my birthday present from Xtian. It’s a bright blue, really shiny, Ipod! I know, I’m a little retarded in my excitement, but I’ve been coveting one ever since I bought Xtian his for Xmas last year. I’m a terrible human being. But, I finally get to jump on the bandwagon, after all these years. I feel accepted and socially with it. And that’s what really counts. Right? Right? *cough cough*

Moving right along: So, in an effort to show those at my work who are thinking I’m knocked up like a rapper’s personal assistant, I tried to wear more snug clothing today. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s helping. After more than a cumulative 60 hours on a treadmill for the last 2.5 months, my gut has not shrunk in any way. So, I’m probably just reinforcing the rumor. Good lord. Now, when if I ever do get knocked up *knock wood* everyone’s going to give me those knowing smiles and roll their eyes. Just awesome.

For all those squeamish about vagina talk, consider this your warning.

So, I had a gyno appointment last week. All’s well so far, which for someone with my fucked up cervix is a good thing. I actually had the gumption to ask the nurse to NOT tell me my weight when I stepped on the scale. Very liberating. I’m done freaking out because I weigh an ENORMOUS amount. (Don’t ask. Just….don’t).
The doc came in, and I told her all about the whole trying but failing in the baby-making department, and she wasn’t concerned, gave me some helpful advice and then got down with the exam. While I’m in stirrups, she’s chatting about this Doctor’s conference she went to, where this guy was talking about “Hello Therapy.” The whole idea is to speak directly to your organs, “Hello kidneys! How are you? I know you’re having a rough time right now, but I know you can take care of yourselves. Thank you for taking care of me all this time.”
Now, I fall pretty in the middle of the traditional vs. nontraditional medicine. I’m very “just give me the fucking vicodin and let me get on with it,” while still being pretty “So, I think instead of having surgery, I’ve heard of this therapy where you lie nude from the waist down in a bed of daffodil stems, and drink sun tea.” So, I’m pretty open to new stuff, and I told the doctor that this “Hello Therapy” sounded interesting, even just from a greater awareness of your body function view.
We chatted like this for a while, and then she says, “You know, normally, I wouldn’t tell a patient about that, but I just feel so comfortable with you.” WHILE HER HAND WAS IN MY VAGINA!
The situation was so strange, but I guess pretty cool, I almost laughed out loud.

I guess I really have that affect on some people. Most of my life, people have really felt comfortable telling me things they wouldn’t tell their closest friends, let alone practical stranger. I don’t know what it is, people just trust me kind of naturally. I think it’s mostly a good thing, but it can really lead to some strange scenarios. On the other hand, this was the best exam I ever had. I didn't feel a thing. I thought she was just getting the speculum in, and she was already done. Seriously. (Maybe only a woman can appreciate the art form that is a GOOD vagina doctor's exam.)

So, with that visual imagery threatening your sanity, I’m going to go eat as much food as I can find. I’m freaking famished today!

"So, I think you gave me HPV" so sayeth the asshat.

Ah yes, I have a blog. I remember now…

So, the movie Beerfest is hysterical. Decidedly lowbrow, the movie is self-aware enough to mock itself. And that, my friends, goes a long way with me. Any person, movie, song, institution or religion that can’t make fun of itself has no place in my life.
I’ve always lived by the idea that if I can’t laugh at myself then I can’t laugh at other people. And, let’s be honest, laughing at other people is one of my favorite pastimes.
I guess this is the main reason I love Ben Folds, and supremely stupid movies, and the reason I hang out with the people I do. The old axiom “don’t take life too seriously, you’ll never get out alive” is kind of how I live my life.

My father, meanwhile, just thinks I’m a sarcastic ass for this same reason. And maybe I am, but I daresay I’m having much more fun and am a bit more self-aware than he.

~~~

You know how, before you go to the dentist you spend about 3 hours flossing and brushing meticulously, only to finish up with a 20-minute swish of Listerine? Yeah, well, since I had to go to the dentist TWICE in five days, I said, “Fuck that.”

Instead, I ate a delightful bowl of clam chowder, washed it down with a Dr. Pepper, popped a piece of gum, and sat down in the dentist’s chair. It was awesome. I can’t recommend it enough. Especially since he didn’t notice. Why should I bother with the extra cleaning (what with me being a fastidious dental hygiene enthusiast anyway) since he’s still going to doubt my honest answer to the predictable flossing question? My response, “Every day” is met with a suspicious and arrogant lift of the eyebrow and a kind of disbelieving “mmmmmhmmmm”. Look here jerk, I have good teeth, I brush 2+ times a day, floss at least once a day, there isn’t anything wrong with my teeth, so ease off on the stink eye, eh?

Fucking dentists.

(And for those wondering, no, the title quote was not directed at me, and nobody gave anybody HPV in this scenario. As stated, the accuser was simply being an asshat.)