For your amusement this Friday

Thanks to my friend Michelle for forwarding this to me.  Any fan of Lolcats will appreciate this:

This saddens me

Gay teen’s family blames school for death

I understand loss, but I cannot comprehend the loss of a child.  I cannot imagine the sorrow the parents must feel when their son’s life was taken by a classmate.

But I think it’s wrong to blame the school for allowing their son to express himself.  Larry King’s school was more accepting of his identity exploration than his own parents.  I’m saddened for their loss, but also for their denial.

Ouch not as much

I guess I should update you on the great dr’s appt I had yesterday.   Well, great doctor, lots discussed, and I’m down about another pound, so those are good.  Bad was my blood pressure was high for probably the first time in my life.  I’ll blame work for that one.  All my blood tests were good except the CBC.  As suspected, I’m back down again.  Hemoglobin was a 9, and the last time I went into the hospital for a transfusion it was 8.  I have to take iron pills twice a day until my next appt in a month and they’ll recheck. 
 
We also did a flip flop on my meds, back to something close to what my rheumy had me on in December 2006, since thankfully my dr was able to read what I had been on in the notes.  I’m so thankful that the dr’s office in Dallas really did fax my records over since I hate whining that I hurt to a dr and it looking like I’m a junkie.  So now my daily meds are – AM: cymbalta, zyrtec, and my vit B stress complex.  I’m supposed to have a slow-release iron pill there too, but I thought I had some at the house and I didn’t.  I have to go back to the drug store this afternoon.  PM: mobic, ultram, and another stupid iron pill.  This morning I pulled out one of my lidoderm patches for my lower back too, and I think it might be working some.
 
What was neat was that when I told a coworker who was in the office that I had to go for my appt yesterday, and he pressured me into telling him what it was for, he was surprised.  He told me he would have never known if I hadn’t have told him, and I’ve worked with him nearly a year.  I told him, you don’t see me move too much from my chair though – that’s how you can tell.  He told me that I was always so peppy and stuff that it surprised him. 

And on another note altogether – Happy Clone Wars Day!  I’m taking my young padawan and his big sister to the theater either this evening after work, or more likely, after some back to school shopping tomorrow.  It’s Tax-Free weekend in Texas, but my budget’s so tight this year (thanks to my ex missing his last two child support payments), I won’t really be able to enjoy the shopping experience like I have before.  It’s probably going to be Target for the turkey’s supplies and a couple extra pieces of clothes, Payless for shoes for them both, and 5-7-9 in the mall for the teenager.  I figure after that much stress and walking, it would be nice to sit in an air conditioned theater with a huge tub of fake-buttery popcorn and some junior mints.

Ouch a little bit

It’s been a while since I last wrote about my health.  I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis a couple years ago, with myalgia (he never used the phrase “fibromyalgia” so I don’t either, even though my grandmother was diagnosed with it some years ago also).  I went through a huge depression, where I could only see a life of pain and obstacles.  It was probably my mother’s constant complaining about her ails that made me see that all that negativity would not help me one bit, that I had two amazing children to take care of no matter what my physical condition.  I decided I would not my “disease” rule my life. 

But I’ve been wearing down lately.  It’s been a little over two years since my last transfusion, and I had blood work done at my family doctor’s office probably six weeks ago.  I accidently missed my follow up appointment, but I called and rescheduled for today.  The thing is, she said they would just send me a letter saying all bloodwork normal if that was the case, but that letter never came. 

I did the back work and made sure my rheumatologist’s office in Dallas faxed over my records.  I know I need to be more aggressive in my treatment at the moment, even though I hate what it might make me look like.  I’m in my mid-thirties and in constant pain.  Most days it’s managable.  Some days it isn’t.  Those are the days I need something more than the four Aleve I take each day.  But without records, backup, it’s awkward telling a fairly new doctor that you need drugs for pain.  I know what it must look like.  So instead of pushing the point I usually back off, frustrated and sad. 

I’m still fairly active.  Not athletic by any means, and some activities are very restricted.  I cannot kneel – the turkey boy must stand up in the tub to have his hair washed.  I cannot bend too much, so I don’t empty the dishwasher if I can avoid it.  And there came a time when I had to stop playing Final Fantasy because my hands and wrists couldn’t manage the controller for any long periods of time (and everyone knows, you can’t just play Final Fantasy for a few minutes).

So wish me luck today, that I might have the courage to ask for what I need.  That I might eventually have a pain-free day.  In the meantime, send me your jokes to cheer me up, because laughter really does work wonders.

Peace.

I’m still loved, subtitled: I was wrong

I gathered my courage and called my Grammie last night.  I really wanted to hear her voice and know that she was ok.  She was very excited to hear from me, but one of the first things she said was, “have you heard from your mother?”  I put on my big girl pants and said that I hadn’t spoken to her since she said she was suing me.

My youngest sister went no contact with our mother back in May, when NM called her boss playing the concerned mother because my sis didn’t answer her calls.  She lives a town away from my grammie, and I live a few states away, unfortunately a town away from NM.  Anyway, after my sis cut off communication, she had gone to visit Grammie with my niece and nephews.  When my grandmother told my mother after in a phone call, NM went off on my grandmother!  She told my grammie that she should have defended her, and yelled at my sister for how she spoke to her, for avoiding her calls.  My grandmother said that she didn’t know how my sister spoke to her, she wasn’t there, and that it wasn’t her place. 

My mother hung up on my grandmother.  They haven’t spoken in a couple months now. 

I told her honestly that I had been avoiding calling her because I dind’t know what NM had said to her to poison her against me, and it turns out, my grammie felt the same way.  We talked honestly about NM, and lovingly about my kids and how she’s feeling and when I might get to come visit. 

I told my daughter later that I was so stinking happy that someone in my family could love me no matter what, and in the process, validate my feelings about NM.  She didn’t quite understand, but that’s because she has a lot of family on the other side that are relatively normal (with the exception of her father).  Sometimes I wonder if my sis and I aren’t in a fantasy world, viewing NM as the evil queen.  But to have others validate that, that was incredible.

 

And I forgot to add!  My grandmother told me that in all the time she was visiting NM, her visiting nurse (mom’s, not my grammie’s) gave her a clean bill of health each visit.  She told me that when NM visited the cardiologist and told him that my grammie has a pacemaker, she acted hurt when he told her that her heart was fine.  My grammie said it was like she was jealous of the pacemaker or something – her words!

She also told me that NM has isolated her from her substitute son, the one that gave her a cell phone after I had “taken” hers away from her.  My daughter said that she was worried about NM isolating herself, that she felt guilty.  We then discussed other ways NM has made my children feel guilty in the past, like telling my then-4yo son that if he didn’t stop crying she was going to have a heart attack because she couldn’t handle the tears.  I told her that NM has created her environment, and I wasn’t going to feel guilty anymore.

There is only one real food group – pizza

If it can’t be microwaved, chances are the turkey boy will not eat it.  I get it – I was a terribly picky eater myself.  He had reflux when he was younger, and I suspect he still does they way he chooses things without sauce, no ketchup on anything, and yes, I’ve rinsed off pork chops for him to eat.   The only vegetable on his menu is a french fry – not even a mashed potato is acceptable.  But what surprises me is his pizza obsession.  I know it’s normal for kids to love pizza, but I figured factoring in his stomach ails, it would be a no-go also.

I give to you acceptable forms of pizza according to the 5yo:

Pizza pockets – these would be the hot pocket version.

Pizza pillows – these are pizza rolls.

Pizza buttons – these are the enclosed version of a bagel bite.

Bagel bites, bundinos, cardboard pizza, and of course, pepperoni delivery. 

Every night, if he had a choice, though I do occasionally break it up with a corn dog or a taquito.  Is it indulgent?  Perhaps, but he gets a healthy-yet-cold lunch each day, and he drinks plenty of water, so I’m ok with it for now.

Hooray for the Un-Hot!

See, it’s all about balance.  If I got to whine on and on about the heat yesterday, I have to in turn be thankful that it did in fact cool down just a dab yesterday.  It seems we got some of the Eduard winds, though it never really got wet.  The wind chimes played a gorgeous symphony outside on the balcony, though that was also balanced by the new neighbors.  I think I need to somehow let them know that the acoustics are really good out there, and that anything they might say (or smoke, though that’s only a suspicion so far) out there comes right in my back door.

It was so nice in the house that I actually baked our dinner in the oven.

FFS It’s HOT!

If you think you may have read this somewhere before, well that’s because everyone in Texas and other lower states are saying the same stupid thing – It’s hot!  Stupid hot, as I like to say.  The kind of hot where you can’t think because your brain is boiling. 

We have four different a/c units in our building at work, and the building isn’t that big imo.  They’re situated strangely that the same two units cover our largest classroom and the main lobby, the third one large classroom to itself, and the fourth a small classroom and a back office.  We called the repair service out last week to replace a part on one of the first two, so we know they’re working.  It’s just that this building probably dates back to the Civil War (and yes, I’m exaggerating), so it’s poorly put together, poorly insulated (and poorly wired too for the record.)

For the second half of the day, I had a string of whiney grown men asking if they could turn down the air.  No – first, don’t touch that thermostat!  And second, it was down to 60!  When it’s 100 degrees outside there’s only so much relief you’re going to get in this building.  I suggested they hang outside for a bit then come back in to appreciate what we do have.  And of course, the coke machine picked yesterday to be a stubborn bitch, probably because of the heat too.  Poor whiney men had to drink water! 

It was cooler at the house, but not enough for me.  The air was set at 68, and it was a boiling 77 in the house.  See, I know I’m being a brat.  I get it.  But I was miserable!  First, off came the bra, pretty much unhooking it as I unlocked the front door.  Next the jeans.  I made the kids a microwaved dinner in a tshirt and my undies, and chewed on koolaid flavored ice.  That seemed to help, but I knew it was about to get miserable again since turkey’s bath time is after dinner.  I have these gorgeous vanity lights in my tiny bathroom…you can see where I’m going with this. 

After I got the turkey cleaned and cooled and tucked in, I told the girl I couldn’t handle it any longer, and got back in the shower myself.  Then I sat on my bed in my towel and my drippy hair watching Sunday night’s Iron Chef America, which made me drool!  Battle Curry!  OMGs it was incredible. 

By the halfway point of Iron Chef I realized I was soaking my bed with my damp towel, and I’m not a fan of attempting to sleep in a damp bed. I get seriously ooged out if anything is wrong with my sheets, and yes, I can tell if the 13yo has watched my dvr during the day because inevitably she gets some sort of crumb on my bed.  So I ditched the towel and the comforter and tried to lay as still as possible under my sheet, trying to will my fan tower thingy to blow cooler.  By judgement time, the drooling had passed my body temperature, so I paused to find a snack.

Amy was still up in the living room, watching Family Guy, I think, and furiously texting or emailing on her phone.  I’m not sure when she figured out she had internet access on her phone, but you cannot pry that thing out of her hand now.  Anyway, I flopped my bedsheet about me and headed for the fridge for a snack of shaved turkey rolled in a thin slice of muenster.  Mmmm.  My daughter looked up from the tiny screen for a moment and started giggling.  She gave me the most wonderful compliment I’ve had in a long time: she told me I looked like a Roman Goddess feasting.  Ok, so it was a sideways compliment, but I’ll take what I can get.  And with the phone in her hand…

 

Busted.

Reverse SADness

It’s Texas.  It’s August.  It’s 100 degrees outside.

I love my children dearly, but there was nothing in the world they could have possibly done to get me out of the house this weekend.  Ok, I’ll say that early Saturday morning we went to Walmart to load up on groceries for the next week or so, but that was it.  Try as I might, I could not motivate myself in any way, shape, or form to actually put on my swimsuit and walk across the parking lot to swim.  My daughter kept complaining about how dark it was in the house, but if I were to open the shades, it would heat up faster than a microwaved pizza roll. 

I have in the past teased about having reverse SAD – seasonal affective disorder.  Until this morning, I didn’t realize it wasn’t a joke.  Now I’m not here to diagnose myself, but I found it interesting that is a real disorder.  I’ve seen some contradiction as to what is considered “reverse,” with different sources calling the opposite symptoms reverse SAD, and some calling SAD in summer or spring reverse. 

All I know is when it’s this hot outside, I can’t think.  I want to stay in a cool spot and not move too much.  I want a freaking snowball.