Oh, Dear

We've been praying for an easy year this year. Apparently, God said HA! Well, it's not that bad, but it's certainly not "easy."

First, last week, my good old friend "Aunt Flo" returned. I was actually quite surprised. My cycles started back up when Conor hit 10 months old. The twins are 10 months and 3 weeks old now, so the timing is about right. But now I am breastfeeding TWINS. Two babies. One boob for each. And yet, my cycle has returned. I have imagined the conversation going on inside my body:

Ovaries: Should we send one down? It's about that time again.

Boobs: No way! I'm workin' double time up here. There's no way she would be able to support another baby.

Uterus: Have you SEEN her ass? Go on, Ovaries! Send one down. Heck, send two!

So that was a lot of fun.

Then on Friday, we were filmed for part of a Blue Cross Blue Shield Commercial. I'll post more about that when it comes out, but despite having lived in Los Angeles for 10 years, we were a bit surprised about the crew that arrived for the process. Make up, lightening, sound, BCBS big wigs, and a director and producer. My role was essentially to stare lovingly at Dave as he told our story, not for any sexist, "wifely" reason and pretty much because I had no idea what had actually happened. Sadly, my staring at Dave involved looking at him in profile, and I predict an uncanny resemblance to Professor Snape in the commercial.

On Saturday, we attended our first NICU reunion party. This was quite nice. It was a HUGE party with lots of families attending. We saw a couple of our nurses, which was quite nice. We did not see our favorite nurse, but we also missed Nurse Control-A-Lot, so overall it was a win.

This morning, on the other hand, I had to attend an academic integrity hearing for a student of mine whom I caught plagiarizing. You might think that would be an easy thing to do: AHA! A student has been caught doing wrong! I will get him/her!! You cannot imagine how it is not like that at all. At our school, hearings are rare. Most of the time, students get a "settlement" in which they admit their guilt, receive their "penalty" and the information is kept top secret for 8 years and then destroyed. So, cases like this are the exception.

And this case did not go as expected. There was lying, denying, external attributions of fault, anger, sulking, admissions of other plagiarism, and general Things That Are Not Good. And that was just me!!

I jest.

It was bad. And it was bad to see the student do what I would presume are all the same things that have gotten him/her out of trouble before. This was not a growth experience for this student. This was not a moment that is going to make him or her finally straighten up and fly right. This was just one stop in what I would guess is going to be a long line of messing up rather significantly. He/She did not get out of this. He/She was found guilty and was dealt a pretty severe penalty. Still, there is no relief.

And the emotional fallout for me has, surprisingly, been high. I protect my students. I cheer them on and coach them and want them to grow and do well. I recognize that not all are at that stage in their lives or have that goal, but if they want it, I want to help them achieve it. It's not fun and it's not why I'm a professor.

Oh and what else? I forgot to register to review for a conference so I may have let that person down. I have my first dissertation defense on Friday (on self harm in adolescent girls. Light and fun topic!!). I have 25 student project papers arriving tomorrow and another student waiting for another review. AND Christopher has a double ear infection and is quite cranky/sick.

There is more. There is always more. But I'm sure you're tired of hearing of my whining. God(dess) knows I am.

What A Week

Sometimes, I have to work really hard to come up with the prose to make things sound interesting around here. And sometimes, it sort of writes itself.

Obviously, you can be the judge of whether our last week has been as eventful as I think or whether I should have spent a bit more time, effort and actually grown some talent to make it seem more compelling.

Let's just go chronologically, shall we? Friday, Nanny #2 and I were discussing a blister/sore that Nanny #1 had noticed on Bridget on Thursday. I had said, on Thursday, "Oh, she must be sucking her hands and fingers and got a blister. Babies do that when they're born, you know." Then Nanny #2 said, "Wow, it really looks like a burn."

Ding ding ding ding ding. I rewound my brain and remembered when Bridget stuck her hand between the bottom of the hot oven door and the top of the oven storage drawer. She had only cried for a moment and when I stuck my hand in there it wasn't hot. Apparently, though, it was.

A quick trip to the doctor and a diagnosis of a 2nd degree burn and instructions how to take care of it---neosporin and hand washing (although he showed me how to wash Bridget's hands, which annoyed the ever loving hell out of me)---and we were back, none the worse for the wear.

Then on Sunday, Conor tells us a story of how he and his new playmate found a dead mouse? And how his new friend pushed all the blood out of this dead mouse by putting a rock on top of it and squishing it. I'm not even going to try to make that more dramatic than it is, but basically I flipped out. If you'd like to know why, then read this article. In any case, how we're going to deal with this issue is still in motion, so no more comments about it here, except it freaked me (and continues to freak me) out.

Monday and Tuesday were mellow, just normal random throw up, crying, and lack of sleep. And that was just Dave!

I kid! It was our multiple offspring, but I had to put that there. Then this morning, oh, let's say at about 4 am, the random throw up (Bridget once Monday morning) became more regular (Christopher, three times in a row. then again at 7 and then again at 8:30). Since Christopher had had congestion for the last 8 months and we think it's related to allergies and our Doctor (Dr. Here's How You Wash A Child's Hands) refuses to listen to us and he was constantly yakking, we decided to take him to the doctor's office. And see another Doctor. HA! Cheating on our doctor! And trying to find one who listens and doesn't think I'm an idiot.

Surprisingly, this new-to-us Doctor DID listen to me about Christopher's congestion. Why yes, he said, 8 months a really long time for a child to be congested. Some children are born sniffley, but still. It could also be a problem. And for the first time, a doctor agreed with me that Christopher's eczema is likely related to his congestion. After diagnosing an ear infection and an unrelated stomach bug, he suggested we give Christopher a half teaspoon of benadryl to see if that will stop his congestion.

At home, Christopher had his first doses of both penicillin and benadryl, and took a nap. A long nap. A long nap in which he did not snore. For the first time since we brought him home from the hospital.

But that's not all! No, burns, mutilated mice and yakking, infected, congested children do not cover all the excitement around here! No, the last bit of thrill happened during dinner, when I looked over at Bridget and saw a growing redness around her mouth, cheeks and nose. After deciding that I was not imagining it and going through a mental checklist of what we ate new for dinner that night, I narrowed it down to the eggplant Bridget had loved so much she'd have 3 helpings. But allergic? to eggplant?! Why, yes, it is possible! And a quick call to the after hours nurse made me very, very grateful that we'd bought children's benadryl today. The nurse was as excited as I was, saying that if we didn't have it, she would have stayed on the phone as Dave had gone out to get it, come back and give it to Bridget. Yeah.

She is fine now. We have to give her another dose in 6 hours but the rash went away in about 45 minutes. And tonight, she and Christopher are both sleeping well and breathing well. We know this because we've been checking on them quite a bit. But no more eggplant at our house. I fully realize that I am the only person mourning that fact. But it also scares me that Bridget has a food she can't eat again. It sort of freaks one out to know that something she could eat could make her sick. Or worse.

It's been an eventful week. I would just as soon it not be eventful any more. I could use boring. I could stand to be bored for a while now.

Food and Sleep

The main issues around here seem to be getting enough food to everyone and making sure that everyone gets enough sleep.

Dinner times are absolutely crazy and I'm not sure if it would be better with just one baby, but it's out of control with two. With Conor, I think at this point, we were feeding him and then eating our own dinner later. However, we've been eating with Conor (early) for a really long time now, so it doesn't seem reasonable to cook two meals in such quick succession.

Besides, the babies are eating what we're eating, just pureed into a slurry. That's right. Even a 7 months old, the babies eat what we eat and not special baby food. Tonight was roasted chicken, roasted sweet potatoes and sauteed yellow squash. Last night they had a hamburger (no bun), baked beans, blueberries and breastmilk shake. It was such a lovely shade of brown! We're sure you'll see it soon at your local fastfood joint.

We've only been doing this for a couple of weeks. I have known in my head that there is no scientific evidence suggesting what babies should eat when; it's all cultural. That means that the advice to hold off on protein, wheat, dairy, peanuts, strawberries etc. etc. and to start with rice cereal is not scientifically based and in fact, in other countries, parents feed their babies with different orders of food. Nonetheless, I've been following the US pediatric recommendations on what to feed children when and what not to feed them until later, UNTIL a brand new study came out from the American Pediatric Association that basically says start with meat. Additionally, there is no benefit to waiting to introduce foods that are related to allergies and in fact, that strategy could cause allergies.

So we're feeding the babies what we eat. They are gobbling it up and are quite happy about it. It's a little tough cooking our dinner and then blending it down in a timely manner for them while we're all waiting for dinner, but that's what we do.

There are other crazy things I'm doing, like making all our own bread. But we can talk about that later. It doesn't take time, it just takes planning. and it's so much better tasting. And it's a boatload cheaper. In any case, it's just constantly crazy around here.

Folks may be wondering how our sleep is going. The good news is that the twins are going to sleep in their own room now. Umm, yeah. They were sleeping in our room all night every night until 2 weeks ago. Now, at least, they start in their room and move to ours somewhere between 11 and 3. More often it's 11 and not 3.

I don't even look to see what times they wake up any more. It's too depressing. The best nights are when no one wakes up from 11 until 4:30ish or so. Those nights are not frequent. and the thing is, they are mostly not waking up to comfort nurse back to sleep. I can tell you that they are EATING during those times. If they don't wake up until 4:30, I've got concrete in my boobs, they are soon full.

Thank God(dess) I can nurse in my sleep. Except for those few nights when Bridget wakes up and wants to party, if I'm awake for an entire one or two minutes, I'd be surprised. Sure, I'd rather sleep continuously, but a one or two minute, even a 5 minute, wake up is not that bad.

And we both think the twins have not caught up growth-wise to what they should be. Christopher is tracking to Conor's height and weight, but we think he's going to be bigger. Bridget is still small and skinny. It seems to me that all her calories are going to getting taller instead of getting fatter. And I *think* it's more typical for kids to get fatter and then taller, not the other way around.

So there. Food, sleep, food, sleep, food, sleep. That's what my days (and nights) mostly consist of.

I'm going to the chiro tomorrow for my back. I don't think the tingling and numbness is a good thing.

So, Ummm, Yeah

I am really, really busy. And somewhat in pain. My back has been alternately going numb and tingling, so I think it's time to find a chiropractor and get some work done.

I started work last week, and at the same time decided we needed to go in a different direction with one of our nannies. Thank god(dess) for Sitter City. Seriously, if you need a sitter or a nanny, get your tired a$$ on there and find one. There are 4,700 people in their database for Charlotte. We found an amazing woman to complement our other fabu woman and now we have a childcare team that the babies love (already! They love the new nanny already!!!) and who are really and truly helping me work this semester.

But I have to be perfectly honest with you. I'm so incredibly focused at work that I simply do not have time for crap. I can only afford X amount of daycare hours per week with the twins, so I have to do what needs to be done when I need to do it. I have started online shopping with Harris Teeter, we are having organic produce delivered to the house and I'm using weekly menus to decide what to cook.

Also, I'm afraid that I've become a bit of a beeyatch taking no prisoners and getting done what I need to get done. On the one hand, I don't want to be a "pit bull" (what we called hard ass women when I was working in the real world). But on the other, I kind of like it. I'm getting problems solved and getting things done that need to get done.

But what really needs to get done right now is I need to sleep. And to get my wonky back fixed.

Well, Isn't That a Kick in the Head

Well, today wasn't all that eventful.....*after* I fell down the stairs.

Yes, I fell down the stairs this morning and NO I wasn't carrying a baby. Yes, that is the most important thing but OCCASIONALLY, it's nice to know someone is concerned about just selfish ol' me. I have since learned that wool socks are especially bad to walk down wooden stairs and that more than a few of my friends have taken that same dive bruising their ribs and banging themselves up.

My back is completely whacked out and I look like Quasimodo. I took some leftover pain medication from one of my miscarriages soon after it happened. That was not such a good idea. I apparently cannot write research papers while I am loopy. It didn't feel all that bad this afternoon, but now I'm really hurting. I'm thinking that tomorrow morning is going to be even worse.

And I have no idea how it happened, apart from the obvious. I just remember falling down and thinking "Surely, I'm going to stop. Surely, I'm going to stop now. SURELY, I'm going to stop NOW, there are no more stairs!!!"

Great. I really don't want to deal with this right now. We'll see how it goes tomorrow.

Still Here

No, I have not fallen off the face of the earth.  It just feels like I have, at least to me.

I never believed folks when they told me that life after tenure isn't really that much different than life before tenure.  And in some ways, folks who told me that were really wrong.  I am much less stressed about my future here.  And I am sometimes highly cognizant that I am an associate professor with all the rights and privileges that come with it (essentially, I can be cranky and it won't bite me in the butt).  I am very happy to be on this side of that employment decision.  And that makes me very happy.

Nonetheless, things are not easier.  I didn't work two Sundays ago and thought I would die trying to catch up the rest of the week.  I still have a lot of manuscripts to work on, including one I'm turning in today (a revise and resubmit that I think is going to make a big splash in my research area).  I've got more students who are working with me and who want to work with me--all bright, hardworking students who I am thrilled to have on my team. But it's a lot of work.  I'm also upping my service work and am having to deal with a transition in one group that is, quite bluntly, been one of the biggest pains in my booty in my academic career.  And I'm going to have to do something pretty big.  It's the right thing to do, but it's going to be tough.  

And things are moving along in the IVF department.  Since the last two times, I've felt burnt by having to come back and report bad news, I'm not saying squat here until we know absolutely for sure one way or another.  

And I'm still trying to exercise.  I gave up running, but with my new orthotics, I think it's a possibility again.  However, it will not be a possibility again on my normal running route.  Besides stepping on a dying bunny in the dark (I think it was a bunny.  I stepped on something and it squeaked.  Gross to the extreme, even if I do hate bunnies now), I literally ran past two men stealing a car!  This was definitely in the shadier side of my 'hood and they were definitely up to no good.  They were fiddling around under the front of the car and in the glove compartment when I ran by and waved (I always wave).  And then I heard the trunk pop and I thought, it that was their car, they wouldn't need to finagle it to open the trunk.  I then sprinted as fast as my fat flabby legs could take me to a local gas station and called 911.  I would normally have waited to call 911 until I got home, but they saw me see them and the look they gave me was not "Good morning, jogger!!!" Of course, maybe they had a flat tire. I don't know.  In any case, the cops could help sort that out.  

So there you go.  Running over bunnies and into potential car thieves and not getting to eat bon-bons all day at work.

That is how this academic year has started.  Thank God(dess) that fall break is in two weeks.

Well, That Wasn't Our Best Day

Dave, at 10:00 last night, opening the second bottle of wine (thanks, Dad!), "So let us recap today."

"First, you are meditating and using incense to set the mood. And instead, you set off the fire alarm.

Then, after ADT calls, you decide to move the smoke out of the house by turning on the attic fan and while sucking up the smoke into the attic, it also sucks the 110 degree, 100% humidity air into the house.

And then you realize that the fan is still broken and you can't turn it off and, potentially, you will be sucking air into the house all day long on one of the hottest day of the year.

And then you call me and I can't come home and fix the fan and we realize that your arms are not as long as my monkey arms* and I cannot effectively describe my trick of turning off the fan and you are too lame** to actually do it yourself.

So then you stand outside in the 110 degree, 100% humidity weather turning the fuse switches off and on, off and on, off and on, multiple times around the box until you finally figure out which one turns the fan off.

And then you go out in the Subaru to run some errands. And the check engine light starts flashing while the power nearly cuts off in the car. You coast into the post office parking lot and call me. I call AAA and find out that they will not be able to tow the car for two hours. You have a choice of sitting by the car in the 110 degree, 100% humidity weather or walking back 15 minutes back to the house in the 110 degree, 100% humidity weather and then walking 15 minutes back to the car in the 110 degree, 100% humidity weather when the tow truck arrives and then walking 15 minutes back to the house in the (by then) 115 degree, 100% humidity weather after the tow truck leaves. You opt to walk and have some time in the a/c vs. sit by the car like a roasted idiot.

And then you get a call from our daycare at 4:30 in the afternoon to decide which pre-K class Conor is going enroll in: the going-to-kindergarten next year pre-K class or the going-to-wait-another-year-before-going-to-kindergarten pre-K class. This bring to a massive head the discussions we've been having for the last week about whether it would be better for Conor to be the oldest or the youngest student in his class. He will always be the tallest, but should we honor his introversion or his curiousity in when he starts kindergarten? We continue to note that everyone we know who has been the youngest in their class has hated it while those who have been the oldest or in the middle have not noticed it. The benefits for holding Conor back are numerous and could include more self-confidence now and college scholarships later. The benefits of letting him go forward include keeping him apace with some of his friends and keeping him from being bored for his first few years at school. Daycare gives us a week to decide while we try to make one of the biggest decisions in Conor's life thus far and we cannot get his reasoned input on it.

And then we get a call at 8:15 at night from the Fancy California IVF Clinic to 'discuss test results.' And while everything looks great on the fertility side (blood levels and egg counts), there is a problem with another test and they have decided to cancel our IVF cycle this month, resolve the test issues, and reschedule the IVF for October. You point out your lack of vacation days or sick days as a professor, but agree to the delay. They point out that nothing is inherently 'wrong' or 'bad' but we're delayed. Again.

So does that kind of sum up how the day has gone?"

Ummm, yes. Not the best day we've ever had.

*Maybe I was being cranky. **Maybe Dave was too.

Conversations You Don't Have

"You know, things are still a little tweaked. And the weirdest thing is that I can poop on demand."

"Poor Demand."

Dismissed

"Why, oh, why, oh, why did I post that we were going to cycle?" I asked myself as I headed to an unscheduled visit with the surgeon. I really am not particularly superstitious but sometimes I do feel like I can jinx myself when I publicly express a hope that is not yet real.

So why was I heading back to my surgeon? Well, it had to do with the blood in my stool that's been happening on and off for the last 5 days. And this blood is nothing like the problems I had with my booty previously. This was obviously Blood In and Around the Things You Do Not Want Me to Discuss on this Blog. When it started on Sunday/Monday, I thought it was due to the double dose of naproxin I took for the HSG. Indeed, when it went away on Tuesday, I rejoiced. And then, when it came back Wednesday night, I despaired.

So I drove to the surgeon, not at all happy that I was bleeding out my butt again and that I had talked about starting the cycle on the blog before everything was official. The "good" news is that I'd had my final blood panel to prep for the IVF on Tuesday and I was able to call my IVF nurse and ask her for the results, telling her I was feeling a bit dizzy. (I didn't want to mention the extra blood as she might automatically cancel my IVF).

Let me pause for a moment and say that there is NO WAY I want to do this without being 100% healthy. I don't want to waste the money nor the eggs without knowing that I will actually live to give birth and not leave my children motherless. So I am more than willing to wait however long the doctors want until I'm in a fit state (as opposed to pitching a fit). So I was and am more than willing to wait to be a healthy woman to start this.

The nurse called back and although my hemoglobin was quite high for me (12.6 when 12 is the cut off. I usually run around 11.9), my hematocrit was low at 35.6 when normal is 37. Crap. (Literally, if you will)

So into the surgeon's office I went, having my IVF nurse fax over the results, both of us feeling crappy.

And then guess what? No. Big. Whoop. The surgeon says it isn't typical, but it's not abnormal either. Essentially, it's like I have an internal scab that my poop has picked off my colon. (Lovely!!) But it's *nothing* to be concerned about and *nothing* to stop this cycle.

So we're still on!!!!

And when I called my IVF nurse for the third time today and told her that I had a positive OPK and she called back making it the fifth time we talked to each other *just today*, we were both pretty dang excited. I go in Sunday for my first set of bloodwork for this cycle to make sure I've ovulated and then, I will start Lupron next week.

What an emotional day.

ETA: I forgot to put in here yesterday that the reason for the title of this post is that the surgeon dismissed me from this illness and seeing him again. I'm done! I'm healthy or soon enough I will be.

Bye-Bye Nap, Bye-Bye Belly Button

Conor is giving up his nap. We first figured that out recently after we'd put him down and gone outside to do some work and came back to find that Conor's utility steps had been moved around the kitchen and cookies were missing. Being delusional, we hoped that was a one time problem.

Then last weekend, Dave came in to find Conor heading towards our room with a green sharpie to draw on some art he had hung on our wall. (At a child's eye-level and with lots of tape and so damn cute we took three pictures of it). Fortunately, he had bypassed all the knives, scissors and razor blades and focused only on an ink sharpie. Nonetheless, our days of putting him to bed and doing chores as we rely on him actually sleeping are gone.

Bye-bye nap. We really loved you.

I continue to get better, but there are good days and bad days. I went to campus on Monday and was shaking by the time I made it to my office. During my lab meeting with my students, I was sweating and having a hard time focusing. The vast majority of my colleagues have been incredible helpful including my "neighbor" in the office beside mine to volunteered to drive me to my car given the gray, ashen color of my face on Wednesday. (Being a university, one has to walk everywhere. Being I am cheap and won't buy the faculty pass, I park in the student lot and have to walk over 1/2 mile to get to my office. Easy when I'm feeling normal. Slow now).

Teaching has been a blast considering I have to sit down to teach. I'm a pacer with arms and hands that shoot out from my body when I get excited about a topic. Teaching while sitting is annoying. But I still cannot stand for any length of time, so I have to sit and teach. Bleah.

I'm also developing a bit of annoying insomnia that is coming on after I've slept about 4 hours or so. Last night I was obsessing about a senior colleague who has some sway over my career who showed up at my office door on Monday and wanted to know why I still feel bad. That's a quote, "So why do you still feel bad?" I don't know, doofwad. I was under general anaesthesia and had my guts ripped open by a velociraptor, umm, I mean surgeon, just 10 days ago and maybe I'm still feeling a wee bit weak.

This comment bothers me more than the other comments from my colleagues advising me to really take it easy, to stay off campus, and to err on the side of caution gives me comfort. It plays into my fears of being woussy, which is what caused me to go to campus on Weds when I knew damn well I shouldn't and frightened myself and my peers with how crappy I looked (and felt).

In any case, it is very frustrating for me to go from thinking a 45 minute run is a slack off, easy run to realizing that if I was walking any slower, I'd be standing still. I need to get the garden in and I know planting is fine, it's the prepping the soil that scares me. I've got at least half the garden left to prep and Dave has his own chores to do (including finsihing Conor's captain's bed) so the child can move up off a mattress on the floor.

In any case, I'm annoyed. Oh! And I forgot the reason for the second part of this blog's title. My bandages came off my stitches, and now I can fully see...that my belly button is completely tweaked! It used to be so cute! And now it's about half its normal size and squished on the left. It's going to become a lint trap instead of the pretty, open, clean belly button it once was. I'm very sad that my belly button is now so ugly. It's sadly one of the few parts of my body I have always liked. (One might note that in this house, my favorite picture of me as a bride does not include my head) So the one part of my body I have always liked and its ruined.

Phhht.

I'm not really in that bad of a mood, but I am crankier than I'd like to be. I'm ready to be normal again.

Farm Stock

When I woke up in the recovery room, the nurses had me breathe into a device to help me from developing clots in my lungs. I was to do this every hour 5-7 times per hour (although I originally heard it as 17 times per hour which seemed like an odd, arbitrary number to me!). They encouraged me to "do the best I could" that first time. And I did. I realized it was better than average when the nurse pointed out that they wanted me to inhale up to 1000 units and I inhaled to 2500 units. "Whoa," the nurse said. "She's not going to have any problems."

The day after surgery, I had to walk. In fact, I had to walk 3 times that day to get some important reward, which I honestly can't remember now, but I think was along the lines of "sip some water." For the first walk, they told me, it was ok to just walk to the door of my room. I got there and said, "I can keep going" so we went out the door and down the hall a little ways. Dave encouraged me not to go too far, as this was an "out and back" course and we needed to save energy for the return. I made some lame joke about a negative split and turned around sooner than I probably had to.

Two days after the surgery, I had pretty much explored the entire fifth floor of the hospital in my red reindeer pajamas and after one 25 minute walk, wondered if this counted as "real" exercise.

Three days after surgery, when I finally got my IV out, nurses and technicians were cheering my first ambling without the equipment (nurses and technicians I did not know) and some even inquired how I liked my first meal since the surgery that day. (Apperently, I had loudly expressed some enthusiasm about my first meal earlier in the day)

Yesterday, I went for my post-op meeting with my doc who pointed out that we were meeting on the day that the majority of people just get out of the hospital. He also said I could start driving again, a full week earlier than he had said on my discharge papers. (Hooray! School will be much easier next week).

So, I have been feeling pretty hardy. I *am* a hardy person, much more farm stock than thoroughbred. Nonetheless, I'm not quite 100% yet. I decided after yesterday's appt I could go for a walk around the 'hood at lunch. Originally, I planned to do about 1.5 to 2 miles. As I came to the end of my block (oh, let's say about .1 miles from my house) and noted that I was lightheaded and fuzzy, I decided one full block would be plenty. Then 25 minutes later as I shuffled back to the house, I decided yes, that was plenty. (.3 miles in 25 miniutes is not a PR, dontcha know). Last night, I woke up at 2 am in a wee bit of pain and had to take my first vicodin in three days. Waking up this morning was fun!! (Yes, Elizabeth warned me!)

I can't complain. Really. I feel like I am doing exceptionally well. However, I'm still on the mend. I still might give that walk another go today and and see if I can improve on yesterday's time. I can always take a nap and/or catch up on Food Network. Friday afternoons are a real blast around here!!

Finally, I'd like to end this blog with a prayer for some of my extended family. There are sad things afoot in this world and people are making decisions that seem pretty selfish, but also seem, quite frankly, naive, unsophisticated, and reflective of a life lonely and unlived. My prayer is for the children, all the children of this world, who don't understand adult decisions and blame themselves for not being good enough, smart enough, or pretty enough to keep their parents' marriage together. We (as adults) all know their thoughts are not true. Let us hope that the adults involved help the children figure it out, too.

Back at Home

Now that I'm a bit more out of that drug induced haze, I have a few more memories of my lost week in the hospital. (Which I would like to point out we purposefully did during Spring Break, but the result is basically that I did not have a conscious Spring Break this year! And the reason it was not "conscious" did NOT have to do with alcohol!)

Anywho, I checked into the operating room with a blood pressure registering at, oh, about 85 over 55. That would be considered "low." The RN freaked out and had me sit down immediately. I pointed out that following my "bowel prep" from the day before, I was a bit dehydrated. She tried to get an IV in me, but alas, I have no veins. They scurried me into the OR prep where more than a few folks fretted over my pathetic veins. (The anaesthesiologist the day before had said that if needed, they'd stick the IV in my neck. Thanks!!) Fortunately, another anaesthesiologist with a talent for finding crap ass veins got my one good dehydrated vein right off the bat and gave my fluids and a sedative.

The next few hours after the surgery remain a haze involving scooting over from my recovery to my hospital bed (owwwwwwww!), repeatedly hitting the button on my morphine pump, and begging for something to drink to wet my parched lips/mouth. Ice chips are nice, but not as helpful as one would imagine for Dr. Dehydrated. Also, my blood pressure remained looooow (95 over 65) until we finally got off the morphine pump. Who knew?

Three days into my stay, after the doctor queried whether my hair would continue to grow bigger and bigger, I opted to take a shower to wash my frizzfest hair and change into my red reindeer pjs and out of my lovely hospital gown. Sitting in the shower sideways on my cold metal shower seat trying not to let the water directly hit my wounds and unable to lift my hands, I would like to officially name that bathing incident as the Worst Shower of My Life. I came out of it wet but not clean and my hair ended up turning into a ginourmous dreadlock that I was only able to untangle yesterday at home. Nonetheless, my red reindeer pjs and animal print fuzzy slippers made me a bit of a (stinky, dreadlocked) fashionista in the surgical ward during my stay. That and the fact that I was about 40 years younger than everyone one else.

A few comments about my family support. My mom moved in with us on Weds and has been as close to wonderful as I could possibly imagine. It's nice being back in NC and having my Mom so close again. Dave has been exceptional, per usual, taking care of both Conor and me and not going too crazy in the process. But Conor. (((sigh))) Can I tell you a little bit about my son??

I called the house early, early the morning after the surgery because 1) I hadn't slept and 2) I missed Conor. Dave put him and the phone and we started the normal toddler conversation "How are you, Conor?" "I'm fine." "What are you doing?" "I'm making breakfast." And then he interrupted me, "Mommy, how are you feeling???" I thought my heart would explode.

After Dave dropped him off at school that morning and came to visit me at the hospital, he brought a card Conor had made for me. It was a picture of Conor and the words that Conor had wanted written under it "Mommy, I want to give you a kiss. Conor" Again, I thought I was going to die.

Then on Friday afternoon, Conor showed up with a project he has spent all of day making for me carrying it in a big bad labelled "For the Best Mommy From Conor". Within it was a big heartshaped decorated card that said "Mommy, I want to give you hugs! kisses too, and I want you here. I love you." (I think the teacher came up with that one!) and about 10 sheets of drawings and Conor practicing writing his name and "Mom" and "Dad".

The piece de resistance, however, was on Saturday night, when we were walking around the hospital corridors getting exercise and Conor kept holding and kissing my hand and saying "I love you, Mommy!" while every nurse, nurse's assistant, technician, patient and visitor melted at how adorable my son truly is.

((((sigh))))

So now I'm back home and getting off the pain pills. I feel like I'm either pushing myself too hard or not quite pushing myself enough. I'm trying to do work and still take it easy. Traveling is a bit harder than I thought it would be, but I can't stand just sitting here all the time. I get my staples out on Thursday (Have I mentioned that it looks like a metal millipede is eating my belly button? No? Well, yeah. I have a picture! It made my Mom scream!) :-)

Ok. It is time to figure out what I can get done for the day and when I can nap and should shower. It's been an eventful two weeks, no?

Still Here

Howdy. I made it through the surgery and doing well for the most part. I know that I'm doing well for folks who have had this surgery. Nonetheless, it does not feel as though bunnies have recently kissed my toes. I have a largish (to me) gash through my belly button and two smaller holes near my bikini line. These are all stapled together and look horrible. (to me)

I still have my IV and they say I can finally start a liquid diet today. I haven't eaten solids since Monday. Hopefully, if I can eat solids tomorrow, they'll let me go home.

I'm off the morphine pump (awwww) so I'm in a bit more pain, but I'm more uncomfortable than incapacitated. I'm sick of this damn hospital bed and my back is all tweaked from being in it. I cannot figure out how to situate it so that my back and belly are not competing for being the most painful part of my body. I'm also having to wear electronic air massage leggings/chaps to keep me from throwing a clot while I sleep. Lovely. Honestly. Lovely.

The weird thing about my belly is that the wounds don't hurt. There are parts to this side or that that hurt. And the poor thing is bloated and hard. I had to figure out how to pee again. Seriously, it took me two or three times before I figured out what I was supposed to do! And the tooting started back last night. And being that I am related to my family, it has come back with a vengeance: I woke myself up a couple of times in the night. These are all good signs, but not really fun.

Ok. the nurse is coming back with some vicodin. Hooray

Luckiest Woman Alive (Sort of)

So I have done some "cognitive restructuring" and I actually think this is a good thing. "This" for those of you just tuning in is finding out I have to have colon surgery.

The good part, as I see it, is that I am not pregnant. What an odd thing for an infertile to say. However, if I was preggers, they certainly would not be able to do a CAT scan, what with all that contrast solution and xrays. And my uterus would be pressed up against a bad infection, possibly all squished up against it. And this could hurt the baby and, I would imagine, my uterus. Bad, bad.

Another reason that this is a good thing is that prednisone and diverticulitis? Not such a good thing. And since I will be taking prednisone for the first three months of a pregnancy and at a higher dose, well, let's just say the scenarios don't turn out well. That alone has been enough to convince me to wholeheartedly do this surgery.

And folks, this is apparently a surgery. I met with the anaesthesiologist today. He pooh-poohed my comments that I was sensitive to anaesthesia and said they planned to put me in a deep sleep. Period. Also, he said they are going to stick a tube down my throat to breathe for me. (Hint #1 that there might be pain later)

We met with the surgeon again and he was again very positive. However, it was only towards the end that he mentioned that he was taking out 8 inches! Yikes! (Hint #2) Although he says that's not much at all, I perceive it to be a good deal!

He also snickered when I mentioned that I would be going back to teach next week. Yes, he actually laughed and the caught himself. (Hints #3)

Then there was discussion of the morphine pump (Hint #4) and that Conor maybe shouldn't come visit me until Friday (Hint #5). Oh and the catheter (Hint #6).

Oh and finally, they are going to staple my colon back together instead of stitch it back together. Also, to test the "seal" of the colon, they'll pump water in my stomach, hold my intenstines, and see if there's a leak. Lovely! Of course, the way they staple my guts back together is that they have to stick part of it up my booty (Hint #7).

There is some good news from today: I get to drink gatorade tomorrow morning before the surgery so I won't be so dehydrated and they have to stick my veins a zillion times to find one that works. What a relief. (Slight sarcasm)

So, yes, I'd better lose some weight out of this. Some real weight and not just fluid. I'm not counting on it though because I am contrarian in that way. I'll probably end up fatter and older than ever.

Hopefully, I'll be able to blog from the hospital. Rumor is they have wireless there.

Well, I Didn't See That Coming Part II

So the problem started about a week ago. I was working in my office when I started havng serious AF cramps. The only thing that concerned me was that this was the last day of AF and I have never had cramps on the last day of AF. Ok, the other thing that concerned me was how much it it: I felt like I was in labor. If I had been pregnant, I would have called the doula.

The next day, I was still in pain. But this time, it was more specific and "stabby". Also, when I, ummmm, tried to go to the bathroom, it hurt like a mother. And the pain wasn't in my booty, but in my belly. When I was trying to "relax" to go to the bathroom, it hurt so much I nearly shot up off the potty. Again, childbirth came to mind, it felt an awfully lot like trying to pooh the first week after giving birth. It really hurt and it scared me.

I knew it wasn't a bowel obstruction because of course I got online to see if I was dying or if I just had a really horrible case of constipation. As this is really unusual for me, I seriously thought of emailing Dooce to see if she had any advice.

The pain continued off and on for four more days, right around the same time I was in the throes of the flu. Going potty still hurt a lot. Lying on my side in my bed hurt. Sitting up in my bed hurt. Walking sometimes hurt. At one point, the pain was so bad that even though I was sitting in the chair, I had to get on the floor in Cat/Cow to see if I could find any relief.

So Thursday morning, I got up and it still really hurt to potty, so I finally called the doctor. I told the triage nurse my symptoms and they invited me in immediately. The doctor took some x-rays and said she didn't see anything but just to be ultra-safe, she wanted me to get a CAT (or CT) scan. Here's where I was starting to feel foolish: I wasn't in pain anymore. I honestly thought they were wasting all this time and money on me and it was just bad constipation and I was a totally complain-y pants. Because I have never had a CAT scan, I didn't realize that my 3:00 appt really was a 4:30 appt because I had to drink the barium stuff and then they had to put an IV of contrasting dye to check out all my organs etc. (Wonderful side effect of the IV drug is that you seriously feel like you're peeing yourself. Lovely!!) So what turned into a quick check up at the doctor's ended up spending half the day getting checked out.

All in all, it felt like no big whoop and because I had not really eaten anything that day, I honestly felt a lot better. In fact, I told Dave I wish I'd waited one more day because I would not have gone in.

I heard nothing that night nor early the next morning, so I rightly assumed there was nothing so awful that they needed me to go to the hospital. Besides, I felt fine except for an occassional stab in my gut.

The doctor called at 11:15 on Friday. She apologized for not calling last night. "No problem!" I said. "How are you feeling?" she asked softly. That's a little weird, I thought, but I said, "I'm doing much better. No pain and no fever." "Well, I'm glad that we did that CAT scan," she told me.

Let me point out that no doctor ever starts a comment with "Well, I'm glad we did that extra, expensive test" and it end up with "because we found nothing wrong at all! What a great waste of time and money that was!!" I think that's about as rare "I'm glad we did that CAT scan because we were finally able to see someone who is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside."

Nope, she instead continued "Yes, you have diverticulitis with a small abscess. I'd like to set you up with a surgeon immediately. It's small enough you may not need surgery, but I want a surgeon to evaluate that. Do you have a surgeon in town? No? I'll find you one. And by the way, your IVF is off the table until this is resolved."

"Ummm, ok." (I have not told you that the IVF had officially just been finally put on the table on Wednesday. We had our first meetings set up to coincide with the start of my next cycle. It was a complete "go".)

Three hours later I'm in the surgeon's office after having done only minimal playing of Dr. Google because I had a ton of meetings. The surgeon (who has the name of a cute doctor on a popular medical show, I humorously noted) came in and again explained the diagnosis. I told him that I was really surprised because I consciously really try to eat at least 20 grams of fiber a day. He said that it was very unusual for someone my age to have this problem. Indeed, he called me "young" and "thin." (HA!! It's official!! A doctor called me Young and Thin! I like this doctor!! However, I did not want to point out to him that based on what I saw in the waiting room, his practice is skewed to the Old and Fat. But let's not burst his deceptive bubble, eh?)

So, yes being as young and thin (ahem) as I am, it's really bad for me to have diverticulitis, particularly with an abscess. Therefore, I'm going to soon need surgery to remove it (And the conversation had been going so well! Why all of a sudden this turn to the worse???)

"How soon is soon? Like 5 years?"

"Uh, no. In a month."

I started crying and explained the whole IVF thing. He said IVF was off the table until this was resolved. And then he said, well, he knew of one woman recently who only had to spend 4 days in the hospital and then blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

"Ummm, let's go back a second. Did you say 'hospital for 4 days?'"

"Yes, this is major surgery. I'm not giving you any good news here."

"You suck!" I laughingly told him.

"Can I get a second opinion on that?" he replied.

"Yeah, you still suck!"

(OK, so I was not quick enough for the "you still suck" rejoinder, but the first part was accurate! And funny.)

So, ummm, yeah. There we go. I am on spring break this week and since I don't get sick leave, it seems like now is a good a time as any in the next 4 weeks. Also, my IVF clinic will not start anything until 2 months after this is resolved, and my RE is voting for surgery. IVF is apparently off the table for him until I have this surgery.

Surgery for this at my age is controversial. What everyone agrees on is at my age, I am very, very likely to get this again including the abscess. Additionally, if it reoccurs while I am pregnant, there will be an infection rubbing up against my uterus and could kill the baby. (A bad thing indeed) Theoretically, I could google "diverticulitis abscess pregnant IVF" but I really don't think there's going to be a whole wide range of studies and support groups for this particular problem. It's really, really rare to get diverticulitis with an abscess at age and with my usually healthy habits. (Young!! Thin!!)

We're going in Tuesday to meet with the doctor and at this point, the surgery is set for Wednesday. I hope to be home from the hospital on Sunday. I should be back up to speed in 2-3 weeks and then we'll wait 2 months and then FINALLY freakin' start IVF.

I cannot apparently take the easy route from Point A to Point B

Well, I Didn't See That Coming

I really need to update my blog more frequently so I can blog about the things I really want to blog about and not all these WTF moments.

For example, I am falling in love with my house again: our two cherry trees are in full, massive pink bloom and along with the 40 jonquil bulbs I planted last fall signal that spring is on the way. I am very excited to be back in the yard. I even enjoyed the Ivy Killing a few weeks ago in which I did a victory dance in my war gloating in my power from pulling up 20% of the massive field of ivy beside the house. Then the next day, I could not move as nearly every muscle in my body protested. We figure the Ivy got its revenge.

And the beauty products, YES! Things are working. First, I've been using the regenerist for a couple of months and think my skin feels and looks smoother. I've also started using "Primer" (from Revlon, although the book mentions some from Sephora). This is supposed to tighten and lighten my face. You can ever wear it alone. I think it does, but the real improvement has been switching to Revlon's Age Defying make up from its Stay-all-day based foundaton. Oh, heavens, is there a difference in how fewer wrinkles there are. Yes. Definitely try that.

And the best youth producer of all is having my hair highlighted. Years and years have been taken off my appearance from that alone. I can't afford the salons, so I've found someone who s local and independent. I'm not sure she used the exact color I wanted versus she used the color that bleaching my hair came out too. Nonetheless, it looks So Much Better. (Lightening one's hair is one of the biggies for How Not to Look Old. Get the book.)

So those blogs entries have been rolling around my head looking for the right time to come out in witty and profound glory. Not throwaway paragraphs in the above. But there you go.

Dave and I have actually come up with a couple of titles for this blog. I opted for the above, but we might well have used:

Supporting the Medical Community in Charlotte

First, Conor's update. He has continued to have diarrhea off and on for about two weeks. (Conor would like to you know that is a Long Word) The school has become increasingly worried because he's been crying and not following rules. None of that is typical so after one particularly horrible morning for Conor at school, we took him to the pediatrician. Apparently, his bowel has not recovered from his first bout of diarrhea, so all that dairy in the form of milk and cheese we've been giving him has not been so good. Oopsie Daisy! We've cut back on all cheese and are giving him lactaid and remain only with a few "juicy toots" throughout the day, but not bad poopies.

I would like to point out what a good phrase "juicy toot" is. For example, "I don't give a juicy toot what you think about that" would be an excellent rejoinder. Feel free to use it on your own.

So, Conor is doing better. I, on the other hand, well, do you remember the last time I got the flu? Well, I can't find the post, but the last time I had the flu they found a sinus infection that filled 75% of my head. This time, the problem occupies a different region, although I'm sure many folks think have my head up my a$$.

Ok....the family is up and I need to finish this later.