Boy cat knows he gets a pill every morning before I feed him. So he follows me to the kitchen and begs for food, then he leaves when I start dishing it up. It's getting harder for me to catch him, so this morning I got the pill then sat down at my desk. He jumped up on the desk right in front of me. Not the smartest kitty.
Ever have one of those dreams where you really, really have to pee and you're looking for a toilet and can't find one? Or if you find one, there's something wrong with it - like the door's locked or there's a six-inch deep pool of sewage surrounding it. Guess what happens if you do find a working toilet in your dream.
I understand why bedwetters keep doing it. When it's happening, it feels very pleasant, like sinking into a warm bath.
I've been so sleep-deprived that I couldn't wake myself up enough to stop peeing. I managed to get out of bed but I was basically sleep-walking and peeing at the same time. I left a trail from my bed to the bathroom. Fortunately, the stuff I use to clean up pet messes works for human messes.
Also discovered that my mattress protector isn't completely waterproof.
I have a bladder infection, probably caused by the catheter they kept in me for 24 hours after my surgery. Next time I'm going to "accidentally" pull it out as soon as I'm able to get out of bed on my own.
One of my incisions (it looks like I have five big stab wounds on my belly) is also infected. Yesterday, I asked the nurse at the mental health center to look at it. She told me to call my family doctor. The nurse at my FD's office told me to call the surgeon. The nurse at the surgeon's office told me to call the FD. Then the nurse at FD said "okay, now that we have the surgeon's permission." But my FD didn't have any openings for the rest of the week so I had to see a new doc in her office.
I liked the new doc. When he walked in, he said, "Hi, I'm Mike." You know something else I discovered? I prefer Dr. Fill-in-the-blank. I just don't want to be on a first name basis with the guy who's going to be probing my wounds and potentially shoving a speculum in me.
He was very thorough going over my history. He pulled up my chart on the computer and I could see the report from my GYN and from my oncologist. He was skimming through it and I said, "Oh you've got that already." He quickly tabbed ahead so I couldn't read it. But after that, he was kind of grim. I'm guessing my prognosis is as bad as I think it is, but it pisses me off that this doctor I've never seen before knows more about it than I do.
He told me he knows my oncologist and I'm in good hands. I have to wait till next Tuesday to find out what stage my cancer is and what kind of treatment lies ahead.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Quote of the day
For me this season of American Idol was like that fuck buddy who is the laziest lay and takes years to cum, but you always call them up on a Saturday night when you're feeling the itch because you know they're always around and ready to go ...
Some dude named Lee DeWyze won that shit. Lee is like the mulch you get when you leave David Cook and Kris Allen in your backyard compost pile for a few months, so at least Idol is consistent with their winners.
~ from Dlisted
AI needs to stop accepting text votes so the tweener white girls will quit dominating the votes. Then they need to get rid of Ellen and Kara, bring back Paula and find some other serious judge with music industry experience, a big ego and good one-liners. Harry Connick Jr. comes to mind.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Happy hump day
His name is Brad Goreski. Yeah, I've never heard of him either but the guy has a nice torso.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
A new first
For the first time ever in my life, somebody sent me flowers. They came from my aunt and uncle Friday morning.
It made me cry. Everything's making me cry now. At first I thought maybe somebody really does care about me. Then I thought they're probably just doing it for my mom.
I've thought about writing them a letter and telling them about my blog. I've been thinking about telling everyone about my blog. Very few people who know me in real life know about it. People who read it know more about me than most of the people in real life have ever known.
This is where I come the closest to telling the truth about my life. Do I want people to know the truth about me? Should I delete it all before I die?
It made me cry. Everything's making me cry now. At first I thought maybe somebody really does care about me. Then I thought they're probably just doing it for my mom.
I've thought about writing them a letter and telling them about my blog. I've been thinking about telling everyone about my blog. Very few people who know me in real life know about it. People who read it know more about me than most of the people in real life have ever known.
This is where I come the closest to telling the truth about my life. Do I want people to know the truth about me? Should I delete it all before I die?
The oncologist called
So on Friday, the oncologist called with the pathology reports from my surgery. They found more cancer. He called it "residual cells" in the cervix and in the cul de sac (area of pelvis near cervix). I don't know what that means but based on what I was able to Google, it sounds like my cancer is Stage III. Which means a 50-60% chance of survival.
But I'm more at risk from dying of suicide than cancer. I've been very depressed all week. I started having suicide thoughts Monday night after my surgery when I was in pain and felt trapped and felt like I couldn't tell them how much pain I was in or how depressed I felt because they'd call for a psychiatric evaluation. The suicide thoughts have been getting worse all week. The news from the oncologist didn't help.
I won't really know more - or even know for sure about what stage it is or the prognosis - until I see the oncologist in a little over a week. On the phone, he said I would definitely need more treatment but we'd discuss it at my appointment. I said, "Do you mean like chemo or radiation?" He said, "We'll probably do both."
Before the surgery, he had said I might not need any more treatment at all so this isn't good.
I've been thinking about those death panels. If you did a cost-benefit analysis of my case, you'd have to say that I'm not worth it. It doesn't make any sense to spend all that money treating me for cancer when I'm just a drain on society as it is. The taxpayers are already wasting their money on disability payments, rent subsidies and mental health care for me. And what are they getting for it? Not a fucking thing.
It's ironic that the same people who were going on and on about how terrible it would be to have death panels are probably the first ones who'd want to cut me off.
But I'm more at risk from dying of suicide than cancer. I've been very depressed all week. I started having suicide thoughts Monday night after my surgery when I was in pain and felt trapped and felt like I couldn't tell them how much pain I was in or how depressed I felt because they'd call for a psychiatric evaluation. The suicide thoughts have been getting worse all week. The news from the oncologist didn't help.
I won't really know more - or even know for sure about what stage it is or the prognosis - until I see the oncologist in a little over a week. On the phone, he said I would definitely need more treatment but we'd discuss it at my appointment. I said, "Do you mean like chemo or radiation?" He said, "We'll probably do both."
Before the surgery, he had said I might not need any more treatment at all so this isn't good.
I've been thinking about those death panels. If you did a cost-benefit analysis of my case, you'd have to say that I'm not worth it. It doesn't make any sense to spend all that money treating me for cancer when I'm just a drain on society as it is. The taxpayers are already wasting their money on disability payments, rent subsidies and mental health care for me. And what are they getting for it? Not a fucking thing.
It's ironic that the same people who were going on and on about how terrible it would be to have death panels are probably the first ones who'd want to cut me off.
Monday and Tuesday
The scariest part of my week was on Monday when they wheeled me into the O.R. Just as they were about to take me in, my mom asked how long the surgery was going to be and the nurse said four hours. Whoa. Nobody had told me that.
I was still awake and I was terrified that the anesthesia wouldn't work and I'd feel everything. Shortly after that, I was out and I don't remember a thing until I woke up in recovery and the nurses were grabbing my hands and telling me to stop scratching my eyes. I think they had taped my eyes shut but I ended up scratching my cornea as I woke up.
The worst part of the week was having a Foley cathether and being attached to an IV for more than 24 hours after the surgery. I felt trapped. The second worst part was that my doctor ordered hydrocodone for my painkiller - which I'm allergic to. The nurse said the only other thing I could have was Motrin, so that's all I got the first night. Very painful.
My roommate was apparently a drug addict because she kept asking for more painkillers and they kept giving them to her which really pissed me off. The next day when the resident showed up, she apologized because she was the one who ordered hydrocodone for me but a) she also ordered IV morphine and she didn't know why they didn't offer me that, and b) they should have called her to ask for something else.
Since I'm a known mental patient, I was afraid that if I asked for more pain meds and/or I got too emotional, they'd try to drug me with antipsychotics. That's not paranoia on my part - that's what happens if you're labeled bipolar.
My mom and my sister-in-law came to my room after I woke up but they didn't stay very long. I didn't really want them there - esp. SIL (I have nothing against her, we're just not close and I didn't feel like being around people). SIL was in a hurry to leave because she had work to do and her son had a baseball game that night. Mom left with her because she didn't want to drive through the city by herself.
After they left, I started crying because I felt like my nephew's baseball game was more important than me, and I was angry that Mom isn't able to help me as much as I help her when she's sick. It would've been nice just to have someone there to hand me my water and adjust the blinds so the light wasn't glaring in my eyes. I stopped crying before the staff came in because I didn't want them to call a psychiatrist on me.
The worst pain I had all day was my eye, from the scratched cornea. They called an opthamologist who didn't show up until about 7:00 that night. She put in some eye drops that numbed it and that fixed the problem. Why couldn't they just give me some eye drops before that?
The hospital doesn't automatically bring you food at meal time. They have room service where you call and order what you want. Sounds good in theory but in practice, it was bad. The first day, I was really confused and disoriented and it hurt to even reach for the phone. The nurse told me I could order anything I wanted but when I tried, the food service said I was restricted to clear liquids. I had to wait a couple of hours until the updated orders were in the computer then order again. The other problem is that the menu didn't indicate how many carbs were in anything. I'm diabetic. A muffin can be 1 carb serving or 4, depending on how big it is. If I ordered too many carbs, they would hold something back and my luck, they would hold back the one thing I really wanted.
On Tuesday, it seemed like the nurse suddenly turned on me. I'm not sure if she was mad because I complained about the pain meds or because I was so anxious to go home. I think my mom pissed her off because she kept insisting that we had to be out of there by 2:00 because she didn't want to drive in traffic.
I was really upset when I left because:
a) They didn't give me any pain meds even though they knew it was a 2 hour drive home,
b) I felt rushed - the nurse wouldn't even get a bandaid for my IV would because she was trying to get me out the door by 2:00 - she used a Kleenex and tape,
c) The only discharge instructions they gave me were about how to quit smoking (I don't smoke) and what to do if you've been diagnosed with heart disease (I wasn't). There was nothing about lifting restrictions, whether or not I should expect bleeding or discharge, signs of infection, etc., like I got after my hysterectomy.
d) They didn't take me out in a wheel chair and no one walked with me or even gave me directions on how to get out. I couldn't even find the elevator and had to ask someone, and when I got downstairs, I couldn't find the door.
e) My mom went down ahead of me to get the car and told me she'd pick me up at "the main entrance." I sat out there for more than 20 minutes before she showed up. She had gone to a different entrance because that one didn't have as much traffic as the one where I was waiting. Yes, Mom, that's why this is called "the main entrance." I sat there crying while I waited because I knew I wasn't really going to have any help when I got home.
f) On the way home, we had to stop at a McDonald's so Mom could get lunch because she hadn't wanted to walk all the way to the cafeteria at the hospital (or order something up to my room, which was an option). So there I am, walking into McDonald's and sitting there in pain while she eats lunch, when all I want to do is go home and go to bed.
g) When we finally get to my place, I carried my own suitcase upstairs because I knew it was too hard for her going up and down my steps and she'd have to make two trips to carry both my bag and hers. I wasn't supposed to be carrying anything. I also shouldn't have been opening the very heavy security door by myself but it was either that or stand there and wait while she screwed around doing whatever it was she was doing in the car.
h) When I got up to my apartment, I discovered one of my cats had puked right inside the door. If it was just me, I would've just stepped over it and left it there to clean up later. But I knew my mom would complain about how awful my cats were and keep complaining that it smelled bad, so I got down on my hands and knees and cleaned it up. I also scooped the kitty litter before she got upstairs so she wouldn't complain about that.
i) When she finally came in, she was complaining that she somehow hurt her knee coming up the steps. The first half hour we were there, she was sitting on the couch rubbing her knee and saying she needed her Ben Gay but she left it in the car and she didn't want to go all the way back down to get it. I knew she would also complain about the steps if I asked her to go to Walgreens to get my painkillers.
I couldn't take it anymore so I told her I thought I would be okay - she didn't have to spend the night after all. I cried when she left. I wanted help but I didn't want to listen to her complaining all night and I knew she really wouldn't be able to help me anyway.
All week, I've felt guilty for being mad at her when she wants to help and it's not her fault that she's getting old and she has all kinds of health problems of her own.
Then I remind myself that she's never really helped me all that much. I feel like I've been taking care of her since I was five years old. Whenever I got sick when I was a kid, she'd tell me it was somehow my fault ("you should've worn a coat" etc) or she'd tell me how much the doctor or medicine cost and we couldn't afford it. Even this week - she called me on Wednesday and asked how I was. I said I was really hurting. She told me it was because I did too much on Tuesday.
I was still awake and I was terrified that the anesthesia wouldn't work and I'd feel everything. Shortly after that, I was out and I don't remember a thing until I woke up in recovery and the nurses were grabbing my hands and telling me to stop scratching my eyes. I think they had taped my eyes shut but I ended up scratching my cornea as I woke up.
The worst part of the week was having a Foley cathether and being attached to an IV for more than 24 hours after the surgery. I felt trapped. The second worst part was that my doctor ordered hydrocodone for my painkiller - which I'm allergic to. The nurse said the only other thing I could have was Motrin, so that's all I got the first night. Very painful.
My roommate was apparently a drug addict because she kept asking for more painkillers and they kept giving them to her which really pissed me off. The next day when the resident showed up, she apologized because she was the one who ordered hydrocodone for me but a) she also ordered IV morphine and she didn't know why they didn't offer me that, and b) they should have called her to ask for something else.
Since I'm a known mental patient, I was afraid that if I asked for more pain meds and/or I got too emotional, they'd try to drug me with antipsychotics. That's not paranoia on my part - that's what happens if you're labeled bipolar.
My mom and my sister-in-law came to my room after I woke up but they didn't stay very long. I didn't really want them there - esp. SIL (I have nothing against her, we're just not close and I didn't feel like being around people). SIL was in a hurry to leave because she had work to do and her son had a baseball game that night. Mom left with her because she didn't want to drive through the city by herself.
After they left, I started crying because I felt like my nephew's baseball game was more important than me, and I was angry that Mom isn't able to help me as much as I help her when she's sick. It would've been nice just to have someone there to hand me my water and adjust the blinds so the light wasn't glaring in my eyes. I stopped crying before the staff came in because I didn't want them to call a psychiatrist on me.
The worst pain I had all day was my eye, from the scratched cornea. They called an opthamologist who didn't show up until about 7:00 that night. She put in some eye drops that numbed it and that fixed the problem. Why couldn't they just give me some eye drops before that?
The hospital doesn't automatically bring you food at meal time. They have room service where you call and order what you want. Sounds good in theory but in practice, it was bad. The first day, I was really confused and disoriented and it hurt to even reach for the phone. The nurse told me I could order anything I wanted but when I tried, the food service said I was restricted to clear liquids. I had to wait a couple of hours until the updated orders were in the computer then order again. The other problem is that the menu didn't indicate how many carbs were in anything. I'm diabetic. A muffin can be 1 carb serving or 4, depending on how big it is. If I ordered too many carbs, they would hold something back and my luck, they would hold back the one thing I really wanted.
On Tuesday, it seemed like the nurse suddenly turned on me. I'm not sure if she was mad because I complained about the pain meds or because I was so anxious to go home. I think my mom pissed her off because she kept insisting that we had to be out of there by 2:00 because she didn't want to drive in traffic.
I was really upset when I left because:
a) They didn't give me any pain meds even though they knew it was a 2 hour drive home,
b) I felt rushed - the nurse wouldn't even get a bandaid for my IV would because she was trying to get me out the door by 2:00 - she used a Kleenex and tape,
c) The only discharge instructions they gave me were about how to quit smoking (I don't smoke) and what to do if you've been diagnosed with heart disease (I wasn't). There was nothing about lifting restrictions, whether or not I should expect bleeding or discharge, signs of infection, etc., like I got after my hysterectomy.
d) They didn't take me out in a wheel chair and no one walked with me or even gave me directions on how to get out. I couldn't even find the elevator and had to ask someone, and when I got downstairs, I couldn't find the door.
e) My mom went down ahead of me to get the car and told me she'd pick me up at "the main entrance." I sat out there for more than 20 minutes before she showed up. She had gone to a different entrance because that one didn't have as much traffic as the one where I was waiting. Yes, Mom, that's why this is called "the main entrance." I sat there crying while I waited because I knew I wasn't really going to have any help when I got home.
f) On the way home, we had to stop at a McDonald's so Mom could get lunch because she hadn't wanted to walk all the way to the cafeteria at the hospital (or order something up to my room, which was an option). So there I am, walking into McDonald's and sitting there in pain while she eats lunch, when all I want to do is go home and go to bed.
g) When we finally get to my place, I carried my own suitcase upstairs because I knew it was too hard for her going up and down my steps and she'd have to make two trips to carry both my bag and hers. I wasn't supposed to be carrying anything. I also shouldn't have been opening the very heavy security door by myself but it was either that or stand there and wait while she screwed around doing whatever it was she was doing in the car.
h) When I got up to my apartment, I discovered one of my cats had puked right inside the door. If it was just me, I would've just stepped over it and left it there to clean up later. But I knew my mom would complain about how awful my cats were and keep complaining that it smelled bad, so I got down on my hands and knees and cleaned it up. I also scooped the kitty litter before she got upstairs so she wouldn't complain about that.
i) When she finally came in, she was complaining that she somehow hurt her knee coming up the steps. The first half hour we were there, she was sitting on the couch rubbing her knee and saying she needed her Ben Gay but she left it in the car and she didn't want to go all the way back down to get it. I knew she would also complain about the steps if I asked her to go to Walgreens to get my painkillers.
I couldn't take it anymore so I told her I thought I would be okay - she didn't have to spend the night after all. I cried when she left. I wanted help but I didn't want to listen to her complaining all night and I knew she really wouldn't be able to help me anyway.
All week, I've felt guilty for being mad at her when she wants to help and it's not her fault that she's getting old and she has all kinds of health problems of her own.
Then I remind myself that she's never really helped me all that much. I feel like I've been taking care of her since I was five years old. Whenever I got sick when I was a kid, she'd tell me it was somehow my fault ("you should've worn a coat" etc) or she'd tell me how much the doctor or medicine cost and we couldn't afford it. Even this week - she called me on Wednesday and asked how I was. I said I was really hurting. She told me it was because I did too much on Tuesday.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Remember when Crayola had a color called Flesh?
Check out this article about Arizona's new immigration law and some of the other cuh-razy laws they've passed there. And also this one about crazy laws in other states.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Can't anything ever be easy for me?
I just got back from Walmart. I needed to stock up on a few more supplies since I won't be able to carry anything heavier than 10 pounds for at least the next two weeks. I stopped at Casey's on the way home. I was excited because gas was only $2.56 (15 cents cheaper than it was two weeks ago.)While I'm standing there waiting for my debit card to be approved, I notice that the guy across from me is smoking a cigarette - while he's pumping gas.
WTF? He noticed me giving him the evil eye so he backed away from the pumps, took a couple more hits, then put the cig out.
Sadly, his idiocy rubbed off on me. I picked up the wrong nozzle and filled my tank with $2.79 gas. That brain-dead mofo distracting me cost me an extra 24 cents a gallon.
Driving home, I notice this really sickening sweet perfume in the car. I'm going through a mental checklist of what I bought that could be giving off that smell. The only thing it could be was the Swiffer mop refills but they're sealed tight. Or not.
All of the Swiffer spring-fresh scented cleaning solution leaked out and soaked into my economy-size box of Kleenex and my unscented dryer sheets. I would've gone straight back to Walmart but customer service is closed after 10:00 and I was afraid the clerk wouldn't let me exchange everything.
So now I don't have the thing I really needed - Kleenex since my allergies are acting up like crazy - because I wanted to treat myself by using the Swiffer mop.
Pissed off? Me? Um, yeah.
My cat tried to suffocate me last night
When I go to bed, I pile the extra pillows lengthwise beside me. That way they're handy if my back is bothering me - I can wedge one or two behind me and put the other one between my knees. Boy cat likes to lay on top of the pile and he was doing so last night. I petted him for awhile then rolled over on my back. Somehow, the top pillow slid off the pile and on top of my face with boy cat on top of that. I tried to nudge him off but he wouldn't budge.
All of a sudden I realized - my cat is trying to whack me.
Which is ironic because I had just watched the last five episodes of The Sopranos, where just about everyone gets whacked. The only death that confused me was Christopher. He was driving Tony and they got into a wreck. Christopher was choking on his own blood. Instead of helping him, Tony covered his nose and mouth and killed him. Christopher was like his own son and prior to that, Tony hadn't made any plans to kill him. He had mentioned the possibility once, several episodes prior, and dismissed it.
By the end of the series, I was ready for Tony to die. At the beginning, I was sympathetic towards him, feeling like he had a tragic childhood and he wouldn't have become a mobster if he hadn't grown up in it. By the end, I saw him and all the guys in his gang as sociopaths with virtually no redeeming qualities. I thought Carmela and Meadow were almost as guilty as him because they knew how he earned his money and willingly turned a blind eye to all the murders.
The only one I felt any sympathy for was his son AJ. You could see him going down the same path his father had, how he was being dragged into it the same way Tony was, but even AJ made conscious choices that led him down that path.
I'm a couple of years behind the rest of the world but I'll weigh in on the finale. It was very controversial at the time. Tony, Carmela and Aj are in a restaurant waiting for Meadow. Right in the middle of the conversation the screen suddenly goes black. Complete silence. Several seconds pass then the credits start to roll.
When it originally came out, there was a huge debate about whether or not it meant Tony was killed. Having finally seen it for myself, it seems pretty obvious to me that the answer was yes.
They had set it up for a few episodes that there was a hit out on Tony and the top guys in his gang. An earlier episode had a conversation between Tony and Bobby about what it would be like if they got hit. Bobby said you wouldn't hear it coming. They flashed back to that conversation during the final episode.
Throughout the series, different characters talked about their favorite scene in The Godfather, when Michael Corleone goes to the bathroom and comes out shooting. In the final scene of The Sopranos, there's a suspicious looking guy sitting at the counter in the restaurant. He gets up and goes to the bathroom. Tony is sitting with his back to the bathroom, watching everybody who comes in the front door. Meadow is outside parking her car, then she runs across the street and is about to enter the restaurant. You hear the bell ring from the door opening then the screen goes black.
What clinches it for me: The scene cut off suddenly, shockingly. At first I thought there was something wrong with the DVD, even though I already knew that was how the series ended. Everything stopped - black screen, no sound, even the song stopped right in the middle.
If they had intended anything other than Tony being killed, there would have been a fade out and the music would've continued playing, or there would've been some logical pause or stopping place in the conversation.
Don't stop/
All of a sudden I realized - my cat is trying to whack me.
Which is ironic because I had just watched the last five episodes of The Sopranos, where just about everyone gets whacked. The only death that confused me was Christopher. He was driving Tony and they got into a wreck. Christopher was choking on his own blood. Instead of helping him, Tony covered his nose and mouth and killed him. Christopher was like his own son and prior to that, Tony hadn't made any plans to kill him. He had mentioned the possibility once, several episodes prior, and dismissed it.
By the end of the series, I was ready for Tony to die. At the beginning, I was sympathetic towards him, feeling like he had a tragic childhood and he wouldn't have become a mobster if he hadn't grown up in it. By the end, I saw him and all the guys in his gang as sociopaths with virtually no redeeming qualities. I thought Carmela and Meadow were almost as guilty as him because they knew how he earned his money and willingly turned a blind eye to all the murders.
The only one I felt any sympathy for was his son AJ. You could see him going down the same path his father had, how he was being dragged into it the same way Tony was, but even AJ made conscious choices that led him down that path.
I'm a couple of years behind the rest of the world but I'll weigh in on the finale. It was very controversial at the time. Tony, Carmela and Aj are in a restaurant waiting for Meadow. Right in the middle of the conversation the screen suddenly goes black. Complete silence. Several seconds pass then the credits start to roll.
When it originally came out, there was a huge debate about whether or not it meant Tony was killed. Having finally seen it for myself, it seems pretty obvious to me that the answer was yes.
They had set it up for a few episodes that there was a hit out on Tony and the top guys in his gang. An earlier episode had a conversation between Tony and Bobby about what it would be like if they got hit. Bobby said you wouldn't hear it coming. They flashed back to that conversation during the final episode.
Throughout the series, different characters talked about their favorite scene in The Godfather, when Michael Corleone goes to the bathroom and comes out shooting. In the final scene of The Sopranos, there's a suspicious looking guy sitting at the counter in the restaurant. He gets up and goes to the bathroom. Tony is sitting with his back to the bathroom, watching everybody who comes in the front door. Meadow is outside parking her car, then she runs across the street and is about to enter the restaurant. You hear the bell ring from the door opening then the screen goes black.
What clinches it for me: The scene cut off suddenly, shockingly. At first I thought there was something wrong with the DVD, even though I already knew that was how the series ended. Everything stopped - black screen, no sound, even the song stopped right in the middle.
If they had intended anything other than Tony being killed, there would have been a fade out and the music would've continued playing, or there would've been some logical pause or stopping place in the conversation.
Don't stop/
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Update
I had my pre-op appointment in the big city on Tuesday. The doctor wasn't there - I just saw the nurse who went over what I have to do to prepare for surgery, then I had an EKG, a chest xray and blood drawn. Whoopie.
The whole trip down there and back (about 2 hours each way), Mom complained about her problems - medical, financial and otherwise. I just don't have the energy for it.
I'm not feeling well physically - I think stress is the reason - and emotionally, I'm becoming very depressed. I've seriously considered not having the surgery and doing the whole Que Sera Sera thing.
One weird detail - I asked the nurse if anything showed on my CT scan from last week. She said it looked okay. The weird thing was that according to the radiologist's report, my GYN left behind a significant portion of my uterus. I think it also said my left ovary was still present. WTF??? When I started asking questions, the nurse turned the page so I couldn't read it. I'm definitely going to find out more though.
Other than that, I've got nothing to say but you're all invited to my pity party. There will be chocolate.
The whole trip down there and back (about 2 hours each way), Mom complained about her problems - medical, financial and otherwise. I just don't have the energy for it.
I'm not feeling well physically - I think stress is the reason - and emotionally, I'm becoming very depressed. I've seriously considered not having the surgery and doing the whole Que Sera Sera thing.
One weird detail - I asked the nurse if anything showed on my CT scan from last week. She said it looked okay. The weird thing was that according to the radiologist's report, my GYN left behind a significant portion of my uterus. I think it also said my left ovary was still present. WTF??? When I started asking questions, the nurse turned the page so I couldn't read it. I'm definitely going to find out more though.
Other than that, I've got nothing to say but you're all invited to my pity party. There will be chocolate.
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
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