Up after 1:00 a.m.

Ugh.  I'm not thinking the half hour of sleep I had is going to cut it.

Not sure what feels worse tonight, my aching heart or the kidney problem my doctor diagnosed at my appointment earlier today (ok, yesterday).

Haven't we been here before?

Well, for the moment, my weight seems to have stabilized. Too bad it’s stabilized 20 pounds higher than my pre-surgery weight. LAME. That’s the # of pounds I lost (again) on my last hcg cycle. I was so hoping to make new, old progress rather than walk the same precise path three years in a row.  But it is what it is and I’m not willing to give up (yet).

“Good heavens! Are you still trying to win?”
-Princess Bride

Having a good day

Don't pass out from shock or anything, ok?  I thought I'd take a moment to write when things don't acutely suck.  :)

Yes, things have been pretty prickly of late.  But for some reason, things are pretty good today.  Physically, I'm over the bug I had, and just feel a lot better today.  My dad came over for lunch and brought his new dog.  She's a cutie.  I miss Sheba, but that is what it is.  The new dog is very sweet and funny and Bessie was thrilled to have a new friend to sniff.

This afternoon I took Anna to her writing class.  Then I needed to take care of getting my cortisol testing set up at the hospital.  That didn't take the whole class time, so I had a little time to kill.  I decided to do something I used to always do, but haven't in a long time: run errands. 

I had a nap before coming to town (a rare treat for me), so I had a little boost of energy.  It actually went better than I thought it would!  It was NICE to feel "normal" and do a few little things, like stop at the Co-op and the uber cool cheese store.  I even got to smile at my husband, whom I shocked by stopping by Safeway as my last quick errand.

Tonight is peaceful.  Anna and I played Go Cat (Go Fish cards with cats on them), had dinner, and have been both working quietly by the fire on our respective computers.  Her book is ready for final edits.  That's where Mom comes in.*  We'll be going through it together, line by line, page by page.  It'll be a lot of work that will take time I don't have to spare, but what an amazing opportunity!  How many moms get to help copy edit their 11-year-old's first complete novel?  I'd be a fool to not make the time.

The whole thing's been a labor of love.  She finished the first draft almost a year ago.  She's been working on it with her awesome writing teacher, Patrick.  The whole thing just makes me smile.  Lots of things are making me smile at the moment, so I want to savor it.

*I'm an editor by trade, so it's not weird.

Weird night

I was sick last night.  Still a little sick today, but not as bad.  I went to bed early, feeling extremely nauseated and dizzy.  I slept well for awhile, but then woke up for two hours, and finished the night with some very disturbing dreams, one in particular.

This dream was long and creepy, involving my late mother and grandmother.  It seemed really real, too.  Even in my dream, they were dead, but they appeared to me; I guess as ghosts?  I donno.  But at the end of it, my grandmother told me I'd be dying from cancer, and not too far in the future.

I know it wasn't my grandmother, it was just a nausea-fueled dream.  But even so, thanks a lot, Nanna!

Faced the music

I finally did it--got on the scale.  It's been looking at me for a long while now, and I've been afraid of it.  So today, after my family left for church, I did it.  I chose then because if it was super bad, I wanted to be able to have the fit of my choosing alone.

So, here's the news: in two months, I've gained 20#.  Yep.  Is that really "possible"?  For normal folks, no.  For me, yes.  It's all I lost on my last hcg program.

I feel a bit relieved now to have done it.  I have some thing more concrete to tell the doc at my pending Cushing's evaluation.

Ok, so we go forward from here.

I've got it!

I had an epiphany, a way to clarify and simplify whatever symptoms I feel worth mentioning on the blog.

BS= back symptoms
CS=Cushing's symptoms

Like it? I do.

So anyway, having CS today.  Ugh.  Even so, feeling fat and sassy about my oh-so-clever key.  And on that note, I'm going to get ready to go to pt (still physical therapy).  :)

Puppies and Cushing's

My dad has an appointment in a few days to go look at puppies.  That's his therapy: bring a new one home to love; well, that, and the little guys keep you so busy!  When my longtime, most beloved of felines died, my dad insisted on getting me a new cat.  I didn't want a new cat (I wanted THAT cat), but I agreed, and hey presto, it did help.

So, I'm pretty excited to be having a new puppy in the family.  I wonder what my young dog, Bessie, will think of that?  Maggie, my old dog--well, I know what she'll think of it!

What's not fun is my Cushingoid symptoms have come back.  Those include rapid weight gain (it's just not technically possible to gain weight as fast as I do when this happens), shaky hands, anxiety, heart palpitations, and a bunch of like things.  It sucks, it's lame, and just doesn't feel fair.  You know?

Anyway, the test kits are being prepared and I start them next week.  Then in mid-December, I have another appointment with the big brain doctor in Seattle--not to worry, she was the nice one, not Dr. Evil.  Last time the tests didn't show enough.  Let's hope they show something helpful this time.

Dratted cold bug!

Feel yucky.  I can still function, but...ugh.  This week Mark is off from Safeway (but not from school) and Anna and I are off from school (but not life and other extra-curricular activities like violin, dance, and writing).

About every six or so weeks during our school year, I make sure we take a week off.  Homeschool, at least the way we do it, is intense.  And also being in charge of our family's paperwork and generally runner of all things, I need the time here and there to catch up on lame, difficult, but necessary things like writing appeal letters to insurance companies and the like (lame!).

Sucky timing to be sick, naturally.  I thought I might keel over doing the dishes and getting dinner done (making salad and putting a navy bean soup in the crockpot--yum), but I didn't.  Even though I despise paperwork, it's a relief to be on the couch to work.  Later is Anna's violin lesson, and later still, ballet.  Oy.

Onward!

Doin' ok

Don't want to leave you hanging.  We're alright.  It's just life, you know.  It's HARD sometimes.  I'm still sick, but not deathly ill.  I'd give his cold a 3 on a 10 point scale; I've had worse.  We spent some time with my dad yesterday.  He'll be ok, too.  He's a major league dog lover, but he's been through this, too. 

Today is nice.  This is a very rare day Mark isn't scheduled at either job, so due to life fatigue and sickness, we're just staying home.  It's very nice.  We're pretty low key, and loving it.  We're reading, doing a little cooking, reading, stuff like that.  Nothing too taxing.

We had a nice evening Friday with friends we've known for, oh, nearly 20 years.  That was healing, too.

So, I think the cold is making me boring and pedantic, so I'll stop.  Up from the ashes (or, at least the couch), I have enough energy to bust out a cranberry pumpkin bread before retiring to my chaise for more reading and a board game with my family.

Peace.

Bruised

Well, that sucked.  Where to begin?  It's hard to, but being both a writer and an extrovert (and the fact I've only shared this space with friends), it's best if I get it out here, where people care.  Ok, this is fair warning: if you're sensitive about dogs, and/or blood, do not read this post.

Things have been especially tough the last couple of months with surgery, Mark's new job (and never ending unreasonable demands by Safeway), and us starting school.  We've had virtually no down time, no couple time.  And thus our anniversary came and went in September.

Having long been cured of idealism, it mattered little to us that we'd really not get the chance to do something special until October.  We like October anyway.  And, school is off today (Oct. 12).  So the grand plan was formed, we'd take Anna to a friend's for a sleepover after Mark got done at noon on the 11th, and we'd have a sleepover of our own, at the Manresa Castle.

Mark originally wanted to go to the ocean or like last year, Seattle.  With my surgery and a gut feeling against, I didn't want to leave town.  I figured it'd be less expensive, and my back would be way better off if we could stay in town.  And, with having to take her to writing class anyway from 3:30-5:00, we'd not get anywhere out of town until stupidly late.  Plus, the Manresa has a great weeknight special, and I was just excited to be here, in the world's greatest tourist town, where we never get to play tourist.  I was tanned, rested, and ready.

But this week hasn't gone well.  A slight schedule change with Mark's job hasn't been smooth, Anna got a cold, and I have had alternating feelings of impending doom (not usual for me) and the feeling that the Manresa wouldn't happen (sort of usual, being a pessimist, I suppose*).

I woke up yesterday feeling weird, rather sick, definitely out of sorts.  Then Mark said he had a headache (a rarity).  So I was waffling on whether or not to go.  Sure, Anna could have her sleepover, which she was really looking forward to, but we might just stay home.  It wasn't all bad, we could still do the things we planned: mainly eat, watch a movie, and chill out.  We still, if we felt ok, could do today's part of it, walking around town and having lunch, to be followed later by a fun dinner and movie at the friends' house Anna's staying.

I waffled, got advice from a friend, felt a little better, then decided in favor of going.  At 1:00, just prior to packing, the phone rang.  It was my dad, asking if I'd checked my email (no).  I said I would and could call him right back.  The news was bad.

His dog, an incredibly sweet Brittany spaniel named Sheba, had been suffering from nasal cancer.  She'd have occasional nose bleeds that would stop pretty soon.  We all thought she had more time, because just this week she was doing great.  That all changed.  Starting the night before, she rapidly declined, and yesterday, it was just awful.

He had called to make The Appointment, and could he come and pick me up to go with him.  We had previously discussed, believing it wouldn't be an imminent need, that the vet would come to his house, and we'd all be there.  But, the shape she as in, waiting would be cruel.  And as it turned out because of our anniversary plans, Mark had the day off (My dad did and does not know what we had planned.).  So I told him Mark was available, and instead of Dad picking up Anna and me, we all went down there to his house to ostensibly get both he and Sheba, and take them back to town for the vet appt.

My dad felt he could not go, and it was decided that the three of us would go and be with Sheba until the end, and take her back to my dad's to bury her.  He had prepared a lovely spot in the trees.  So we took Sheba.  She was in horrible shape, gagging on her own blood the entire trip.  We talked soothingly to her, telling her the vet would help her soon.

We got there, and they were incredibly kind and sensitive.  We were with her for the 15 minutes after she had the tranquilizer until she fell asleep.  It was hard to tell if she was asleep, because she was in such terrible shape, she could neither breathe, nor relax.  But we were with her, telling her she was a good girl, and everything would be ok.  We all cried.  Even the people at the vet's office cried with us.

Then the vet said it was time, and we stepped out.  A few minutes later, he came out to the car and said she was gone, that it was quick and peaceful, they were cleaning her up, and would bring her out.  A little while later, they brought her out to the car, wrapped in her little blanket.  We took her back to my dad's and buried her.  We stayed with my dad and his other dog for awhile, then headed toward home.

Anna told us she wanted to go to our friends' house, that she wanted to do something fun to get her mind off of it.  We tried to talk her into staying home with us, but she really didn't want to.  Sometimes we worry over her lack of emotionalism.  But is that her problem, or ours?  Eventually we got her to our friends', stopped by Safeway and got dinner and a movie.  I was so tired, I couldn't make it through the movie.  So, I went to bed at 9:00, exhausted and sad.

I woke up at 5:30 in grief and pain.  I so wanted to stay asleep; I just didn't want to face the world.  I tried to get back to sleep, but couldn't.  I kept seeing Sheba, and blood.  After I tried stirring, I sensed more discomfort (file under: when it rains it pours), "female" cramps (tmi?) and the definite signs that I have caught Anna's cold.  So this supposed to be sexy, relaxing anniversary celebration is so absurd, it's not even worth working up a snit over.  It's just life.  I miss Sheba, and I don't want to go through that again.  Ever.  But I know there's no help for it.  When you love, really love, your animals, that's what it comes to. 

We're going to attempt lunch in town anyway, plus I want to pick up some sudafed at the drug store (of course, we're out).  We have to clean out our car first.  Poor Sheba was a terrible mess.  I'm glad she's not suffering anymore.  Just the rest of us are.

*"I always hope for the best.  Experience, unfortunately, has taught me to expect the worst." --Garak

Today

Blue.

Feeling a bit snarky

Sometimes I get really irked when people talk about how great their weight loss is going.  Hey, I'm happy for them; it's cool.  But what makes me mad is HOW they're doing it: by exercise and limiting calories.

IT'S SUPPOSED TO WORK THAT WAY!  But for me...not.

Two months

It's been two months since my surgery.  As my friend The Sea Monster chastised me for going so long between blog posts (Dude, I had nothing even remotely interesting to say--still true, by the way--you have been warned.), I thought the two month mark would be as good a time as any.

How am I?  Ow.  It still hurts, a lot.  It really is too soon to know whether it worked or not (I define it a success if I can sit upright again, like a reasonably normal person.).  The nerve issue is still at play.  That will take a long time to heal.  Nerves are the slowest thing in the body to heal and mine took a walloping. Should the time come when my leg and foot have normal sensation and function and my back still hurts this bad, I will be quite sad indeed.  For now, there's still hope in my mind. 

For now, I do the best I can.  I am diligent about my physical therapy.  I'm going once a week, and I do my exercises every day.  I also ice a lot and take anti-inflammatories and pain meds as needed.  I am too busy.  But there's no help for it.  With Mark's schedule, he's not available to drive Anna to dance or writing very often (Soon to be reinstated--violin lessons.  Her teacher has had some time off but will be returning shortly.).  He does whenever he can, but his store schedule is variable.

Speaking of that: SHRIEK!  He's been consistently asking for fewer shifts at the store, and they've been consistently ignoring him.  Last week we were thrilled when he worked four shifts instead of five (and his three nights off were strung together, so he'd get home from school--and stay!), but this week, back to five.  And now his counterpart is leaving the store and they are never in a hurry to hire and train, so it looks to be bleak indeed, as far as the schedule goes.

I mentioned to my friend Lloyd, right now, with Mark working 10-1 at the school every day, plus the store most nights, we have lost all our scheduling flexibility, with none of the benefits of the school job, which will come when he's full time (and down to ONE job).

I wish I could say we have loads of cash with him doing both, but you know, it never works out that way.  Medical bills alone, not to mention LIFE keeps getting in the way (What broke?!  We need what?  Both cars need gas this week?  Anna, those shoes aren't that tight, are they?).  Yeah, life.

School's going ok for us.  We're rolling, at least.  I wish I had more prep time, but what teacher doesn't?  It's hard that home is both home and my work space; it's a balancing act, for sure, as is being the mom and the teacher.  Think that's hard?  It is.

I wish eating were going better.  I need to get on the scale, but I fear it.  I'm not blind, though.  I can see it in my (lame, round) Scandinavian face, and I feel it in my pants.  It's disheartening, to be sure.  Will this battle never end?  I am having a hard time getting back to eating scarb free.  I hate to admit it, but I am.  And really, any advice or encouragement you have for me, I'm all ears.