Current mood: fascinated
I cannot say how monumentously excited I am about Sarah Palin being named as one of the Vice Presidential candidates for this fall's election. There are so, so many reasons.
Before I get started on Mrs. Palin, I want to state my disclaimer. I have not yet made up my mind as far as who is going to get my vote. I like Obama. Like. Not love. I like John McCain. Like alot, but still not love. I hate Joe Biden. Hate, not like. But I really, really freaking love Sarah Palin. And with that, it is not that she is a woman. I wouldn't vote for the Republican ticket because Mrs. Palin is a woman any more than I would vote for the Democratic ticket because Barak Obama is black. Historical yes, but it still wont secure my vote. I try to vote for me and my family. Unfortunately, sometimes I have to vote for the candidate who I think is less of an asshole.
Here's something interesting, when going through a photo gallery online of Senator McCain announcing Governor Palin as his running mate, the sixth or seventh picture in the gallery was of her shoes. Just her shoes. Now, they were great shoes, and as a shoe addict, I must say I want a pair of just those shoes, but seriously- we are on the verge of an historical election which has the potential to completely redirect the course of our country and the press is looking at the nominee's shoes? Maybe we should all stop thinking of her as a pseudo First Lady (because we always look at her clothes and shoes) and start acting like she has the potential to one day run this country.
Mrs. Governor Palin has been in my shoes (no pun intended). Sort of. She embraces the spirit of the American west. She has dedicated her life to her family. She has been at practice fields for hours and hours and still found time to work and achieve excellence.
I like that she is pro-life. I think I am pro-life too, but I am not sure. I think abortion is awful and I know I could never have one. I don't think there are any circumstances which would change my mind. I can't imagine having a soul inside my body growing from my cells and never having the chance to at least lay eyes upon the person it grew into. But that is me. I would strongly encourage anyone I knew who was contemplating an abortion to not have one. But, if they decided to go through with terminating a pregnancy, I would be there, beside them, supporting them and helping them. I would mourn silently for that child and never speak of it to the woman who made the decision because ultimately, it would be her decision and her choice. If legal abortion were to be abolished it would be a huge mistake. I can't imagine the health dubacles that would ensue among other things. I hate abortion but I don't think it should be illegal. Does that make me pro-life or pro-choice? I would hardly call myself pro-choice.
I see Sarah Palin as a woman who has taken her circumstances and used them to better herself. I see the progression of where she came from to where she is. I want to know her better. I want to know that she does represent me and women like me.
Another unfair point I heard drawn Friday had to do with her son, Trig. He was born in April and he has Downs Syndrome. Palin and her husband knew after routine tests performed during her pregnancy that the baby would have DS. There was never a question as to whether or not to terminate the pregnancy. They knew he would bring something to their lives and add to their family, regardless of his condition. The question drawn by some stupid commentator was how she would be able to perform well as a Vice President when she had such a needy infant to care for. WHAT? You mean to tell me after all the work women have done to show that we are capable of anything and having a female candidate pursuing the Democratic nomination, after watching women in combat, after everything that someone would doubt Sarah Palin's ability to carry out her responsibilities as a Vice President?
Why is that?
Feminists don't like Governor Palin. I just don't understand that. Why does the National Organization for Women not support her? Is it her stand ..ion? Is that the only reason or is it that she is a Republican? That's sad. Here we have a strong woman, married to her high school sweetheart for somewhere around twenty years, with five children, who is equally accomplished in parenting as she is business and government, who has blown the whistle on over spending and corruption, who is willing to blaze a trail and they wont support her? Aside from the abortion issue and the pantsuit, what is Sarah Palin missing? Oh, and by the way, Geraldine Ferraro, the Democratic Vice Presidential candidate from 1984 does like Sarah Palin.
Puleeze.
Currently listening : Spice By Spice Girls Release date: 1997-02-04
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Hasta
Current mood: blessed
Wow, thunder, lightning, flooring, siding, chaos, cancer, death, and Mom's in the hospital.
Its a really, really long story and it is also just about midnight so I'll edit a bunch. Mom got sick. Mom got really really sick. Mom went to the hospital on the ambuhlance. Mom went home. Mom got sick again. And sicker. And sicker. Mom went back to the hospital on the ambuhlance. She be hangin' there for a while. Docs gotta do some tests but they have a pretty good theory, they just have to locate something and come up with a way to fix it. Its technical and kinda gross and she'd kill me if I told you, so I wont. She's going to be ok in a few days.
That leads me to the next thing. Just as I was going to call my sister, the one who likes me well enough all the time, the phone rang and the insanity began. Funny how I had that stupid phone in my hand. Seriously, in my hand.
Unfurl the litany of accusations and craziness, and all you spectators sit back with a cool drink and watch the freak show, will ya? Yet again, I was reeled in and caught off-guard and it whapped me in the face. It never changes. No one insulted anyone until my phone rang. No superiority/inferiority, at least on my part, but your friendly neighborhood _____________(insert adjective of your choosing) thought different. Why do I never see it coming? Only I wont back down anymore.
Hi, have we met? I'm your sis- oops. I'm your scapegoat/whipping post/reason for starving children in China. Nice we could meet up again.
It probably all is my fault. I can trust. And like a moron, I trust more often than not, and if memory serves correct, my trust+x=Holy crap. Surely, all can see how I created the problems.
Now there's humiliation, only not me. I'm not humiliated because I didn't do anything wrong. The one person you were (ah-hem) protecting and taking care of might be a good place for you to start your search. I guess a person can't have needs. At least none greater than yours.
You handled it, alright. 'Cuz you got the plan. That's why everyone else is pulling out the big pushbrooms.
Hey, LoveCop, good job. Thanks for telling me how you feel. I guess you not caring about me is why you will stew on this for ages and you will hate me again. That's ok. I can deal. I wont hate you back no matter how hard you try. For the record, none of it ever mattered to me. You are mine. Just as much mine as anyone could be. I still feel that way, but I have my guard up now. You were the only one it mattered to. How sad. My insignificance is not my doing. That said, you can't be puppetmaster of who I love. Or who loves me back. Being there to open Christmas gifts and do silly things like pile up on the matriarch's bed just to hear her gripe at everyone and curling hair and playing games and building legos and eating and parties and graduations are what place one in another's heart for all eternity. Genetics, not so much. There is no eraser big enough to erase me- and my fat ass from hearts. And that's ok with me too.
Hard as you try, you can't un-love me. But I can un-trust you.
Oh, and the ones you mentioned and what you said, they already know you in a way you could never imagine. No one taught them hate and there is none there. But you can't hurt them the way you think you can. Because at 25 divided by 2, they are far stronger than you.
and maybe I didn't know the one you ache for the way you did. Stop. You didn't know him the way I did. Square?
I love you.
And I am protecting me now.
Currently listening : Game Related By The Click Release date: 1995-11-07
Wow, thunder, lightning, flooring, siding, chaos, cancer, death, and Mom's in the hospital.
Its a really, really long story and it is also just about midnight so I'll edit a bunch. Mom got sick. Mom got really really sick. Mom went to the hospital on the ambuhlance. Mom went home. Mom got sick again. And sicker. And sicker. Mom went back to the hospital on the ambuhlance. She be hangin' there for a while. Docs gotta do some tests but they have a pretty good theory, they just have to locate something and come up with a way to fix it. Its technical and kinda gross and she'd kill me if I told you, so I wont. She's going to be ok in a few days.
That leads me to the next thing. Just as I was going to call my sister, the one who likes me well enough all the time, the phone rang and the insanity began. Funny how I had that stupid phone in my hand. Seriously, in my hand.
Unfurl the litany of accusations and craziness, and all you spectators sit back with a cool drink and watch the freak show, will ya? Yet again, I was reeled in and caught off-guard and it whapped me in the face. It never changes. No one insulted anyone until my phone rang. No superiority/inferiority, at least on my part, but your friendly neighborhood _____________(insert adjective of your choosing) thought different. Why do I never see it coming? Only I wont back down anymore.
Hi, have we met? I'm your sis- oops. I'm your scapegoat/whipping post/reason for starving children in China. Nice we could meet up again.
It probably all is my fault. I can trust. And like a moron, I trust more often than not, and if memory serves correct, my trust+x=Holy crap. Surely, all can see how I created the problems.
Now there's humiliation, only not me. I'm not humiliated because I didn't do anything wrong. The one person you were (ah-hem) protecting and taking care of might be a good place for you to start your search. I guess a person can't have needs. At least none greater than yours.
You handled it, alright. 'Cuz you got the plan. That's why everyone else is pulling out the big pushbrooms.
Hey, LoveCop, good job. Thanks for telling me how you feel. I guess you not caring about me is why you will stew on this for ages and you will hate me again. That's ok. I can deal. I wont hate you back no matter how hard you try. For the record, none of it ever mattered to me. You are mine. Just as much mine as anyone could be. I still feel that way, but I have my guard up now. You were the only one it mattered to. How sad. My insignificance is not my doing. That said, you can't be puppetmaster of who I love. Or who loves me back. Being there to open Christmas gifts and do silly things like pile up on the matriarch's bed just to hear her gripe at everyone and curling hair and playing games and building legos and eating and parties and graduations are what place one in another's heart for all eternity. Genetics, not so much. There is no eraser big enough to erase me- and my fat ass from hearts. And that's ok with me too.
Hard as you try, you can't un-love me. But I can un-trust you.
Oh, and the ones you mentioned and what you said, they already know you in a way you could never imagine. No one taught them hate and there is none there. But you can't hurt them the way you think you can. Because at 25 divided by 2, they are far stronger than you.
and maybe I didn't know the one you ache for the way you did. Stop. You didn't know him the way I did. Square?
I love you.
And I am protecting me now.
Currently listening : Game Related By The Click Release date: 1995-11-07
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Zombie-mode
Just when I thought it was safe to take a breath (that I had to schedule just to take) I was wrong. I am in full freak out mode right now. Travis will be home in a week. That means I have a week to finish packing and cleaning and painting and sprucing so we can meet with the Realtor when he is home to get this thing on the market. I have so much to do.
As I mentioned before, I went to my endocrinologist yesterday. He didn't have much to say other than all the labs drawn look really good and that it was time for a new full-body scan. I didn't know I would have to follow the I-131 diet again. That sucks. Nuclear Medicine wanted to schedule my I-131 dose on the 3rd. The very day Travis' plane lands. I simply asked the receptionist if the low dose could potentially be dangerous to him (you know, close contact and all) in the days following my dose. You'd'a thought I asked for a dissertation on the half-life of irradiated iodine and the usefulness of the modern-day Geiger counter. A simple, "Yes," would have been fine, but I guess they are nothing if not thourough. I'll quit griping about that. We got it rescheduled for the week after he leaves again.
What I will gripe about is what I started griping about in the first place. I gotta go on the I-131 diet again. Bleah. It isn't hard, I just can't eat anything packaged other than frozen veggies and one ounce of cheese per day. I have to limit my consumption of meat products and basically work from scratch on everything. I've done it before, I'll get through it this time.
I also have the good fortune of receiving not one, but two doses of Thyrogen (a synthetic drug that stimulates the body into believing it is in hypothyroidism without actually discontinuing thyroid hormone replacement medication which would actually cause hypothyroidism, see?) while I am on the ever-so-cranky-makin' I-131 diet. Yay. So, I'll be sick of life and sick at my stomach and lethargic all at the same time. And all during the first week the house will be on the market. Ah, I am so blessed.
Oh, and did I mention I have three blood draws (ever looked at my veins? I, like, don't have good ones) and two injections within five days? OOOOhhh, and one more, on the last day of the diet and pincushion test, I get to lay completely (like, I'm like, totally dead) still for an hour in the absosmurfly cold Nuclear Medicine department for my scan.
I know it is all for my own good and that I really do need the follow-up tests to ensure that I have no thyroid tissue or cancer regrowth and I am grateful for it. I just really hate having to be a zombie while I am by myself, otherwise proclaiming my ability to do it all on my own. I have good friends and I love them all for what they do and have always done to give me a hand. It is just really freaking hard to ask. I. hate. asking.
Oughta be fun!
As I mentioned before, I went to my endocrinologist yesterday. He didn't have much to say other than all the labs drawn look really good and that it was time for a new full-body scan. I didn't know I would have to follow the I-131 diet again. That sucks. Nuclear Medicine wanted to schedule my I-131 dose on the 3rd. The very day Travis' plane lands. I simply asked the receptionist if the low dose could potentially be dangerous to him (you know, close contact and all) in the days following my dose. You'd'a thought I asked for a dissertation on the half-life of irradiated iodine and the usefulness of the modern-day Geiger counter. A simple, "Yes," would have been fine, but I guess they are nothing if not thourough. I'll quit griping about that. We got it rescheduled for the week after he leaves again.
What I will gripe about is what I started griping about in the first place. I gotta go on the I-131 diet again. Bleah. It isn't hard, I just can't eat anything packaged other than frozen veggies and one ounce of cheese per day. I have to limit my consumption of meat products and basically work from scratch on everything. I've done it before, I'll get through it this time.
I also have the good fortune of receiving not one, but two doses of Thyrogen (a synthetic drug that stimulates the body into believing it is in hypothyroidism without actually discontinuing thyroid hormone replacement medication which would actually cause hypothyroidism, see?) while I am on the ever-so-cranky-makin' I-131 diet. Yay. So, I'll be sick of life and sick at my stomach and lethargic all at the same time. And all during the first week the house will be on the market. Ah, I am so blessed.
Oh, and did I mention I have three blood draws (ever looked at my veins? I, like, don't have good ones) and two injections within five days? OOOOhhh, and one more, on the last day of the diet and pincushion test, I get to lay completely (like, I'm like, totally dead) still for an hour in the absosmurfly cold Nuclear Medicine department for my scan.
I know it is all for my own good and that I really do need the follow-up tests to ensure that I have no thyroid tissue or cancer regrowth and I am grateful for it. I just really hate having to be a zombie while I am by myself, otherwise proclaiming my ability to do it all on my own. I have good friends and I love them all for what they do and have always done to give me a hand. It is just really freaking hard to ask. I. hate. asking.
Oughta be fun!
Guffaws, Flat-Out Flipping Guffaws, I'm Telling You!
Current mood: amused
Oh, I do love mornings when laughter inside my head drowns out the moans of my children in reference to getting up and ready for school, when just yesterday they sprung forth with anxious anticipation of the glory that lay ahead.
Visit this website, I found it on a friend's MySpace page. I think you will at least giggle, likely to do so out loud.
www.stuffwhitepeoplelike.com
Oh, my eyes are so full of tears that I can barely make out my keyboard!
Currently listening : The Marshall Mathers LP By Eminem Release date: 2000-05-23
Oh, I do love mornings when laughter inside my head drowns out the moans of my children in reference to getting up and ready for school, when just yesterday they sprung forth with anxious anticipation of the glory that lay ahead.
Visit this website, I found it on a friend's MySpace page. I think you will at least giggle, likely to do so out loud.
www.stuffwhitepeoplelike.com
Oh, my eyes are so full of tears that I can barely make out my keyboard!
Currently listening : The Marshall Mathers LP By Eminem Release date: 2000-05-23
Monday, August 25, 2008
Current mood: crappy
All I wanted to do tonight, once the kids were done telling me about their first day of school, and cleaning the kitchen and starting on odds and ends for lunches tomorrow, was to sit and watch tonight's coverage of the DNC. I started the DVR recording shortly after 9:00, thinking (like a stupid idiot) that my wonderful children whose 8:40 bedtime was so generously (on my part) extended to 9:00 would just be quiet and let me watch. Yeah, good thing the DVR has a pause button, huh?
Ted Kennedy took the stage first and I must say, even thought I have never liked any of his doings, he looked extremely well. He's been through a medical hell. I'm not familiar with his type of cancer, but I know that radiation sucks. Chemo really sucks. Brain surgery? Pretty sure that one pegs out on the suckometer as well. Good for him and better for his family that he is pushing so hard against the odds he faces.
I really hate watching the conventions. I always have. I watch, when I watch, not to so much hear the speeches, but rather to pick up on the candidates' and their spouses' subliminals and body language. I like to hear their inflection and intonation. I want to learn what makes them who they are and watching a speech, as opposed to listening to one, helps me figure people out. I the necessity of political conventions as a platform to announce a candidate is somewhat outdated with the forms of media currently available, but they do serve my purpose for viewing well.
I've watched Michelle Obama in interviews and on the View and I just haven't liked her. Tonight didn't change my mind. I can't really pinpoint what the problem is. And that aggrivates me most.
Her speech was a good one. She delivered it extremely well. I am not naive enough to believe she was 100% responsible for all the verbage. The campaigns do have people to take care of that kind of thing, but if anyone was capable of writing that colorful a speech, it would most likely be her. Her training in all things law have given her a strong abilty to speak well on a grand scale.
I, along with countless others, represent just the people she spoke of in her speech. My father was also a blue-collar worker. Many times he would leave for work by 3 or 3:30 in the morning and when there was lots of overtime available, he would take it and not be home until well after dark. My mother stayed home until I was in the sixth grade. She worked at Motorola after that and until she retired. That was hardly a light-duty job. On those days when my father was home at a reasonable time, he would spend hour after hour on the phone. He held various positions in Arizona Pop Warner Football and later in Arizona Youth Football, the last of which was Federation Commissioner for many years. Every moment on the phone or at the Federation office was done out of love. And all of his work was volunteered. My mother helped with my Girl Scout troops, carpooling, she took me to softball practice and made sure that whenever I was participating in some event, that she was there. I knew my parents worked hard. I knew how important everything they did truly was, so I understand what Michelle Obama said about community and personal involvement.
And, I am one of the many military families she referenced. I've done that. I've been there. Just a bit of advice to everyone who uses the sense of "military pride" to force their agenda- Stop it. You piss us off. Incredibly. Yes, we are here and we appreciate those who appreciate us and our spouses. We hope people are inspired by our sacrifice. We are strong. And if you haven't lived it you will never fully understand. Please, musicians and politicians and retail entities and everyone else, do show your appreciation but don't use our lifestyle to further your position in any capacity. Simply tell us, "Thank you," in word and deed.
Somehow I just can't help but think that her speech was so very contrived and even though she really worked hard to make it look natural and conversational, parts of it just seemed so saccharine. I was disappointed. I wanted to be wrong about her. I wanted to see in her something genuine. She gave a stellar effort to the task but I took next to nothing from her words.
I hate when the parties (both of them) use the minor children of the candidates or elderly parents of the families to show the softer side of the candidate or their spouse. It just annoys me. It annoys me the same way that I am annoyed when sappy movies try to force the viewer to feel something. It feels like the parties are trying desperately to push the candidates' "organic-ness" down our throats.
I can't help but believe there is nothing organic about the faces painted on these candidates. I am also not stupid enough to think that this is an epidemic of our modern era. It all just bugs the crap out of me.
I do think the Obama kids are way cute, though.
I am sure I wont be any more pleased when the Republicans take the stage next week. I do already like Cindy McCain, even though she has had some serious personal issues. Perhaps those issues are why I like her. I don't know.
And no, I know I wont be voting for the candidates' wives. And I wont make my voting decisions based on what I think of them.
I'm just sayin'...
Currently listening : Shut Up By Black Eyed Peas Release date: 2003-12-09
All I wanted to do tonight, once the kids were done telling me about their first day of school, and cleaning the kitchen and starting on odds and ends for lunches tomorrow, was to sit and watch tonight's coverage of the DNC. I started the DVR recording shortly after 9:00, thinking (like a stupid idiot) that my wonderful children whose 8:40 bedtime was so generously (on my part) extended to 9:00 would just be quiet and let me watch. Yeah, good thing the DVR has a pause button, huh?
Ted Kennedy took the stage first and I must say, even thought I have never liked any of his doings, he looked extremely well. He's been through a medical hell. I'm not familiar with his type of cancer, but I know that radiation sucks. Chemo really sucks. Brain surgery? Pretty sure that one pegs out on the suckometer as well. Good for him and better for his family that he is pushing so hard against the odds he faces.
I really hate watching the conventions. I always have. I watch, when I watch, not to so much hear the speeches, but rather to pick up on the candidates' and their spouses' subliminals and body language. I like to hear their inflection and intonation. I want to learn what makes them who they are and watching a speech, as opposed to listening to one, helps me figure people out. I the necessity of political conventions as a platform to announce a candidate is somewhat outdated with the forms of media currently available, but they do serve my purpose for viewing well.
I've watched Michelle Obama in interviews and on the View and I just haven't liked her. Tonight didn't change my mind. I can't really pinpoint what the problem is. And that aggrivates me most.
Her speech was a good one. She delivered it extremely well. I am not naive enough to believe she was 100% responsible for all the verbage. The campaigns do have people to take care of that kind of thing, but if anyone was capable of writing that colorful a speech, it would most likely be her. Her training in all things law have given her a strong abilty to speak well on a grand scale.
I, along with countless others, represent just the people she spoke of in her speech. My father was also a blue-collar worker. Many times he would leave for work by 3 or 3:30 in the morning and when there was lots of overtime available, he would take it and not be home until well after dark. My mother stayed home until I was in the sixth grade. She worked at Motorola after that and until she retired. That was hardly a light-duty job. On those days when my father was home at a reasonable time, he would spend hour after hour on the phone. He held various positions in Arizona Pop Warner Football and later in Arizona Youth Football, the last of which was Federation Commissioner for many years. Every moment on the phone or at the Federation office was done out of love. And all of his work was volunteered. My mother helped with my Girl Scout troops, carpooling, she took me to softball practice and made sure that whenever I was participating in some event, that she was there. I knew my parents worked hard. I knew how important everything they did truly was, so I understand what Michelle Obama said about community and personal involvement.
And, I am one of the many military families she referenced. I've done that. I've been there. Just a bit of advice to everyone who uses the sense of "military pride" to force their agenda- Stop it. You piss us off. Incredibly. Yes, we are here and we appreciate those who appreciate us and our spouses. We hope people are inspired by our sacrifice. We are strong. And if you haven't lived it you will never fully understand. Please, musicians and politicians and retail entities and everyone else, do show your appreciation but don't use our lifestyle to further your position in any capacity. Simply tell us, "Thank you," in word and deed.
Somehow I just can't help but think that her speech was so very contrived and even though she really worked hard to make it look natural and conversational, parts of it just seemed so saccharine. I was disappointed. I wanted to be wrong about her. I wanted to see in her something genuine. She gave a stellar effort to the task but I took next to nothing from her words.
I hate when the parties (both of them) use the minor children of the candidates or elderly parents of the families to show the softer side of the candidate or their spouse. It just annoys me. It annoys me the same way that I am annoyed when sappy movies try to force the viewer to feel something. It feels like the parties are trying desperately to push the candidates' "organic-ness" down our throats.
I can't help but believe there is nothing organic about the faces painted on these candidates. I am also not stupid enough to think that this is an epidemic of our modern era. It all just bugs the crap out of me.
I do think the Obama kids are way cute, though.
I am sure I wont be any more pleased when the Republicans take the stage next week. I do already like Cindy McCain, even though she has had some serious personal issues. Perhaps those issues are why I like her. I don't know.
And no, I know I wont be voting for the candidates' wives. And I wont make my voting decisions based on what I think of them.
I'm just sayin'...
Currently listening : Shut Up By Black Eyed Peas Release date: 2003-12-09
This is Why Army Wives Rock
Current mood: sad
Kori called me this morning and I could tell when she asked me to come over that something was very wrong. She told me she needed me to come take a peek at her Heeler pup, Holi, so I could tell her what I thought. I put our dogs up, grabbed my glasses and keys and went right over.
Kori (and Darin, her husband) has been my friend for just shy of six years. She moved in next door when her youngest, Dillon was just a few months old. It didn't take long for Darin to give Travis and I the stamp of approval. That just means that we didn't set off his psycho-meter, so we were safe enough to have over for the occasional barbeque. There have been many times where there was only one man between us to remove carcasses or move heavy things.
When I had my kidney stone treatments, she took my drugged-up butt to the commissary and just watched while I let loose on a foggy Percocet rage against the cashier for some reason which was important only to me. She doesn't let me forget that. My kids weren't even with me when it happened, but they could tell you the story because they've heard her tell it so many times. Travis was deployed, but she took care of my kids and made sure to stumble through the rocks between our houses in the darkness to make sure I took my meds when I needed them.
When I had cancer, she was there to help Travis and my parents with everything. She drove kids to and fro, she checked on me, she ran errands and never kept score. She understood my favor mantra: it all works out in the end. She also applied it to our relationship.
Those are only a couple of examples of the kindness she has shown me and my family. And, I am one of only two non-family personnel allowed to watch their kids. The other is Travis.
I knew Holi hadn't been feeling well, but we thought it was nothing serious. She hadn't had her first heat cycle yet, so that idea was on the table. She's a chewer so we wondered if she had gotten into or ahold of something which disagreed with her tummy. We looked up various afflictions based on her symptoms and they all pointed to taking her to the vet.
I had a prized Endocrinology appointment with my new doctor (I really miss Dr. Oliver) this afternoon, so after an hour or so at Kori's, she headed for the vet and I to the house to get ready for my appointment. As soon as I hit the first light between our houses I felt awfully guilty about not going with her to the vet. I got home and showered as fast as I could. I got dressed, did my hair and called her to tell her I was on my way.
She giggled when I told her I was coming because Erin and Jessica were already there. So when I got there the door to Holi's exam room was open and there my girls were. Holi had been triaged but they were waiting on the doctor to come find out more. After a while Jessica had to leave to pick her little one up from his first day of pre-school and not long after that the doctor came in. He assessed her and ordered tests to see if there was a bacteria or parasite involved. The tech took her from the room and the tests were done and they returned her to the room.
I'll spare you the details, but it was pretty clear after that the situation was more serious than we had thought before.
Eventually the doctor returned with the diagnosis. Holi had Parvo. Ultimately, the doctor and Kori agreed on euthanasia. By the time they had her catheter in place, Jessica had returned from picking up her son. So, there we were, four Army wives from different backgrounds and different age groups, three of us joined for the simple purpose of helping our friend get through the day.
And it was a rough day.
Currently listening : What About Your Friends By TLC Release date: 1992-11-13
Kori called me this morning and I could tell when she asked me to come over that something was very wrong. She told me she needed me to come take a peek at her Heeler pup, Holi, so I could tell her what I thought. I put our dogs up, grabbed my glasses and keys and went right over.
Kori (and Darin, her husband) has been my friend for just shy of six years. She moved in next door when her youngest, Dillon was just a few months old. It didn't take long for Darin to give Travis and I the stamp of approval. That just means that we didn't set off his psycho-meter, so we were safe enough to have over for the occasional barbeque. There have been many times where there was only one man between us to remove carcasses or move heavy things.
When I had my kidney stone treatments, she took my drugged-up butt to the commissary and just watched while I let loose on a foggy Percocet rage against the cashier for some reason which was important only to me. She doesn't let me forget that. My kids weren't even with me when it happened, but they could tell you the story because they've heard her tell it so many times. Travis was deployed, but she took care of my kids and made sure to stumble through the rocks between our houses in the darkness to make sure I took my meds when I needed them.
When I had cancer, she was there to help Travis and my parents with everything. She drove kids to and fro, she checked on me, she ran errands and never kept score. She understood my favor mantra: it all works out in the end. She also applied it to our relationship.
Those are only a couple of examples of the kindness she has shown me and my family. And, I am one of only two non-family personnel allowed to watch their kids. The other is Travis.
I knew Holi hadn't been feeling well, but we thought it was nothing serious. She hadn't had her first heat cycle yet, so that idea was on the table. She's a chewer so we wondered if she had gotten into or ahold of something which disagreed with her tummy. We looked up various afflictions based on her symptoms and they all pointed to taking her to the vet.
I had a prized Endocrinology appointment with my new doctor (I really miss Dr. Oliver) this afternoon, so after an hour or so at Kori's, she headed for the vet and I to the house to get ready for my appointment. As soon as I hit the first light between our houses I felt awfully guilty about not going with her to the vet. I got home and showered as fast as I could. I got dressed, did my hair and called her to tell her I was on my way.
She giggled when I told her I was coming because Erin and Jessica were already there. So when I got there the door to Holi's exam room was open and there my girls were. Holi had been triaged but they were waiting on the doctor to come find out more. After a while Jessica had to leave to pick her little one up from his first day of pre-school and not long after that the doctor came in. He assessed her and ordered tests to see if there was a bacteria or parasite involved. The tech took her from the room and the tests were done and they returned her to the room.
I'll spare you the details, but it was pretty clear after that the situation was more serious than we had thought before.
Eventually the doctor returned with the diagnosis. Holi had Parvo. Ultimately, the doctor and Kori agreed on euthanasia. By the time they had her catheter in place, Jessica had returned from picking up her son. So, there we were, four Army wives from different backgrounds and different age groups, three of us joined for the simple purpose of helping our friend get through the day.
And it was a rough day.
Currently listening : What About Your Friends By TLC Release date: 1992-11-13
Friday, August 22, 2008
This Week
Current mood: tired
Monday is the first day of school and after the last week or so I am certain that God is good. My precious angels will be out of my flipping hair for eight hours a day, five days a week again.
If we make it that far.
So, yes, I am still feeling grateful, especially after hearing more details about last week's horrible news. This has given me chills, crying jags, sorrow, and has sent me to my knees more than once. This is a feeling I will never forget. And I don't want to forget, for many reasons.
I've found a suitable substitute for new siding on the front of the house. I still have to do a few things to the missing siding in the back, but I think I can spruce it up well enough to do. Yay! I got paint for my bathroom and the dining/kitchen/hallways. Now, at some point I just have to build up the gumption to get the job done. I still also have to strip the paint from two doors and the corresponding trim. I got my scrapping table set up the way I have wanted it for ages (and never had) and have nearly finished the scrapbook I have been working on for my sister to commemorate Bob's life and services. I am very proud of it.
I've been trying to remember to make my bed every day. I think I've got about an 88% on that.
I am also trying to be better about bedtime. Next week is going to kick our butts.
On Tuesday I was passed counterfeit bills (note, plural) at a store. I found out when I tried to buy a gas card at WalMart and one of the bills. As I was taking it from my wallet, I straightened the bill out and it tore in two pieces. The clerk told me he could not accept the bill and sent me to the bank at the front of the store. They said they would be happy to exchange it and then they told me it was counterfeit. They told me they had to keep it. I told them they were going to give it back to me or give me a statement that I had a counterfeit bill so I could go back where I got it (and yes, I am positive I know exactly where I got it) and let them know I wanted to recoup my loss. They checked the other bills and BINGO- all fakes. I had no idea that when you get passed counterfeit money you are out that money. You can't go to the Federal Reserve and ask for them to replace it and the Secret Service can't do it either. Seriously. I was ticked. If I pass the bills on, then I can be prosecuted as well. Not spending them, not even going to think of it.
The Home Depot became even still bigger fans of our family as I blew wads of money there to help me finish off the projects I've been working. Fun. Until the bill comes. Lets hope the house sells quick.
Nolan's first football game is tomorrow against the Raiders. I'll let you know how that goes and hopefully the camera will have ample space on the memory card (provided Amanda has enough pictures of herself in her mirror) and ample batteries and then I'll post even more annoying pictures of my kid in his brand new uniform with his teammates. I know you are on the edge of your seat for that.
Amanda asked Travis if she could re-join the El Paso Youth Symphony Orchestra. He said yes, because he is away and wants to make his little princess happy, I am sure. It could also be that he wants to make my life a living hell. She was grounded out of it for failure to comply with my requests in May. Maybe April? Don't remember, but it was his decision. Anyway, as if I needed more craziness and miles on my truck, tomorrow's the day. They are heading down to Juarez to perform next weekend, but we are not allowing her to go. Juarez is a scary place these days and I am not allowing her to travel in a bus or anything else over there. Nope, nope, nope.
Her pal B is spending the night, then we wake early, have breakfast, make lunches to eat in the car, pack up, take B home, hit the practice field to pick up the new uniforms, hit the game field for warm-ups, play the game, leave the field for the rehearsal hall, eat in the car, wait for the end of rehearsal, come home and collapse.
Sheesh.
Currently listening : You Drive Me Crazy By Britney Spears Release date: 1999-11-30
Monday is the first day of school and after the last week or so I am certain that God is good. My precious angels will be out of my flipping hair for eight hours a day, five days a week again.
If we make it that far.
So, yes, I am still feeling grateful, especially after hearing more details about last week's horrible news. This has given me chills, crying jags, sorrow, and has sent me to my knees more than once. This is a feeling I will never forget. And I don't want to forget, for many reasons.
I've found a suitable substitute for new siding on the front of the house. I still have to do a few things to the missing siding in the back, but I think I can spruce it up well enough to do. Yay! I got paint for my bathroom and the dining/kitchen/hallways. Now, at some point I just have to build up the gumption to get the job done. I still also have to strip the paint from two doors and the corresponding trim. I got my scrapping table set up the way I have wanted it for ages (and never had) and have nearly finished the scrapbook I have been working on for my sister to commemorate Bob's life and services. I am very proud of it.
I've been trying to remember to make my bed every day. I think I've got about an 88% on that.
I am also trying to be better about bedtime. Next week is going to kick our butts.
On Tuesday I was passed counterfeit bills (note, plural) at a store. I found out when I tried to buy a gas card at WalMart and one of the bills. As I was taking it from my wallet, I straightened the bill out and it tore in two pieces. The clerk told me he could not accept the bill and sent me to the bank at the front of the store. They said they would be happy to exchange it and then they told me it was counterfeit. They told me they had to keep it. I told them they were going to give it back to me or give me a statement that I had a counterfeit bill so I could go back where I got it (and yes, I am positive I know exactly where I got it) and let them know I wanted to recoup my loss. They checked the other bills and BINGO- all fakes. I had no idea that when you get passed counterfeit money you are out that money. You can't go to the Federal Reserve and ask for them to replace it and the Secret Service can't do it either. Seriously. I was ticked. If I pass the bills on, then I can be prosecuted as well. Not spending them, not even going to think of it.
The Home Depot became even still bigger fans of our family as I blew wads of money there to help me finish off the projects I've been working. Fun. Until the bill comes. Lets hope the house sells quick.
Nolan's first football game is tomorrow against the Raiders. I'll let you know how that goes and hopefully the camera will have ample space on the memory card (provided Amanda has enough pictures of herself in her mirror) and ample batteries and then I'll post even more annoying pictures of my kid in his brand new uniform with his teammates. I know you are on the edge of your seat for that.
Amanda asked Travis if she could re-join the El Paso Youth Symphony Orchestra. He said yes, because he is away and wants to make his little princess happy, I am sure. It could also be that he wants to make my life a living hell. She was grounded out of it for failure to comply with my requests in May. Maybe April? Don't remember, but it was his decision. Anyway, as if I needed more craziness and miles on my truck, tomorrow's the day. They are heading down to Juarez to perform next weekend, but we are not allowing her to go. Juarez is a scary place these days and I am not allowing her to travel in a bus or anything else over there. Nope, nope, nope.
Her pal B is spending the night, then we wake early, have breakfast, make lunches to eat in the car, pack up, take B home, hit the practice field to pick up the new uniforms, hit the game field for warm-ups, play the game, leave the field for the rehearsal hall, eat in the car, wait for the end of rehearsal, come home and collapse.
Sheesh.
Currently listening : You Drive Me Crazy By Britney Spears Release date: 1999-11-30
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Current mood: sad
No, we aren't on a deployment right now, but many of Travis' brothers and sisters are. He wanted to be with them. He tried everything he could to stay here, then go there. God, fate, kharma? I don't know, but it wasn't meant to be.
Travis' former unit deployed for the thrid time to Iraq in June. This was one of the only Military Police companies in the entire Army which hadn't suffered a fatality in Iraq. Yes, there were some serious injuries between the last two deployments, but everyone came home and moved forward. Everyone.
Sadly, we can no longer claim that proud moniker. I was at home today when Travis texted me that he had just found out 978th had a loss. As the afternoon passed he told me who it was. He was a young MP named SPC Hale.
I don't know much about him, just that he had a wife and at least a couple of kids. I don't recall ever having met him, myself, but I may have. There have been so many young guys I've met that sometimes I lose track of which face and which name go together. I am really going to put some serious effort into being better about that, although I do pretty well most of the time.
I also don't know how he died, but I know enough to have a pretty good idea of the basics. I do know two others are in critical condition, so please think of them as well.
My heart is breaking. This is one of the worst days I can recall. I've cried today for his family and for the Soldiers who will remain in Iraq to carry on, while they carry his memory with them. Suddenly the disarray in my house and my bruised foot don't seem like all that big a deal.
I wish there were something I could do to help this young wife without intruding. I know the last thing she needs is someone she doesn't know needling in and that is not going to be me. I would like to help make casseroles and clean toilets until she is more up to it.
I really do hurt for her. I hurt for her babies too, because I think they are all very young as well.
A few weeks ago, we learned of another death in the MP family. SSG Warren was outside Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri on a motorcycle ride with a friend. He was killed in a collision with an SUV making an illegal turn on the interstate. He also had a family. They had stayed behind in El Paso and weren't with him when he died.
So, as you read this, please take a moment and think of these men, both of whom had seen combat more than once. I think it is certainly appropriate to be grateful, this day, for what we all have and to thank our military for everything they do. I know most of us wouldn't take the job.
Currently listening : Greatest Hits: Every Mile a Memory By Dierks Bentley Release date: 2008-05-06
No, we aren't on a deployment right now, but many of Travis' brothers and sisters are. He wanted to be with them. He tried everything he could to stay here, then go there. God, fate, kharma? I don't know, but it wasn't meant to be.
Travis' former unit deployed for the thrid time to Iraq in June. This was one of the only Military Police companies in the entire Army which hadn't suffered a fatality in Iraq. Yes, there were some serious injuries between the last two deployments, but everyone came home and moved forward. Everyone.
Sadly, we can no longer claim that proud moniker. I was at home today when Travis texted me that he had just found out 978th had a loss. As the afternoon passed he told me who it was. He was a young MP named SPC Hale.
I don't know much about him, just that he had a wife and at least a couple of kids. I don't recall ever having met him, myself, but I may have. There have been so many young guys I've met that sometimes I lose track of which face and which name go together. I am really going to put some serious effort into being better about that, although I do pretty well most of the time.
I also don't know how he died, but I know enough to have a pretty good idea of the basics. I do know two others are in critical condition, so please think of them as well.
My heart is breaking. This is one of the worst days I can recall. I've cried today for his family and for the Soldiers who will remain in Iraq to carry on, while they carry his memory with them. Suddenly the disarray in my house and my bruised foot don't seem like all that big a deal.
I wish there were something I could do to help this young wife without intruding. I know the last thing she needs is someone she doesn't know needling in and that is not going to be me. I would like to help make casseroles and clean toilets until she is more up to it.
I really do hurt for her. I hurt for her babies too, because I think they are all very young as well.
A few weeks ago, we learned of another death in the MP family. SSG Warren was outside Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri on a motorcycle ride with a friend. He was killed in a collision with an SUV making an illegal turn on the interstate. He also had a family. They had stayed behind in El Paso and weren't with him when he died.
So, as you read this, please take a moment and think of these men, both of whom had seen combat more than once. I think it is certainly appropriate to be grateful, this day, for what we all have and to thank our military for everything they do. I know most of us wouldn't take the job.
Currently listening : Greatest Hits: Every Mile a Memory By Dierks Bentley Release date: 2008-05-06
Friday, August 8, 2008
P.***P.H.***P.H...what the heck, can I leave now?
Current mood: sleepy
Yeah, so today was early registration for athletes at the high school. That means us. I'm gonna say something that might piss some peeps off, but oh well... I can hardly believe cheer is like, totally considered a sport. Yeah, band is too (but not orchestra?). I guess it is kinda legit.
Sorta.
Anyway, our high school requires students to take their "sport" as a "class," thereby allowing them to register early to allow the school a chance to make sure they get the schedules they need to accomodate their "sport." I hate that crap, should just be register when Freshman register and call it a day.
Registration was from 8-12 for A-L. We slept a little late and didn't get there until 8:45. We had everything in order. We were ready to go. The cover letter on the packet said the process would take 30 minutes. Lying bastards.
I left the man-child at home becuase one thing I really needed more than exposure to 200 high schoolers was to take my eleven year-old into that environment. Someone shoot me now. Oh, by the way, the batteries on BOTH the cordless phones have died in the last six weeks, leaving me with effectively no land line. Bubba doesn't have a cell phone. He got to wing it.
At 10:04, when the football teams (yes, both of them) came in and the collective odor-ometer pegged out to "extreme," I started to wonder if we were ever going to be finished. With the waiting portion of registration.
Evah.
Our system (mastermindingly crafted, by the way) required one to obtain a ticket with a number upon entry to the cafeteria. One would then proceed to the seating area and seat. And seat. And seat. When one's number was called, one would proceed to the first station for forms inspection, then on to the nexts of about ten other stations. We go there at 8:45, 'member? Our number was 102. They called 38 when we left the number-giver-outer-guy. He didn't call another number until about ten minutes later. No one told me there would be a nap station for registration, and I am a little pissed at that. I could have brought my peeloh and gotten some shuteye.
10:00. Number 52. No, seariussly.
10:15. Number 53.
10:45. Number 60. Son of a biscuit maker, we movin' now!
Psyche.
Sew, it was 11:15 when we got to Number 102. Jesus heard me. Just not as fast as he heard the others cuz I gots no rosary.
Once we began to circulate through the stations, we were doing ok. Until. IDs and Fees. The ID card matching started acting like a teenager and decided to stop all activity. "Jew can go ahea threw dee udder stashuns and affer jew have jews techsbuhxes and get jews ID." Whu?
Next was the lunch station. See, we don't qualify for reduced or free lunches any more, so I thought we could skip that one. Nope! "I knee jews ping cheet so I can sheck it off, meehah."
Kelly was there, trying desperately to get the Tomster and Pimp Daddy T registered, only to learn she would have to wait until next Friday. You see, when her father was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she packed the three Ts (Tommy Jr. [15], Terry [14], and Thomas [10]) up and went home to 'Bama to care for him, thusly disenrolling them from the ever-so-streamlined Ysleta Independent School District. That means she has to register on Incoming-Out-of-State Registration Day. Major suckage. They practice with the football team. Oh, and the basketball team. They have for weeks now. Does that, then, not qualify them as "Student Athletes?"
After the lunch lady, we rocked on through the rest of the process and got the... Wait for it... 748 pounds of books La Princessa will require. Oh, and her schedule. What the heck, she's taking French? I didn't know that. Neither did she. Oh well, French it is. And Geography and Algebra and English (AP) and Orchestra and Cheerleading (yes, the class). Then we got the beloved ID. Chee dodent reely like eet, but den chee ees a deenasher.
I think it is cute, but then I am just a mother.
We got home at 12:32.
I sleepy.
Currently listening : Grease (Original 1978 Motion Picture Soundtrack) By Olivia Newton-John Release date: 1991-04-16
Yeah, so today was early registration for athletes at the high school. That means us. I'm gonna say something that might piss some peeps off, but oh well... I can hardly believe cheer is like, totally considered a sport. Yeah, band is too (but not orchestra?). I guess it is kinda legit.
Sorta.
Anyway, our high school requires students to take their "sport" as a "class," thereby allowing them to register early to allow the school a chance to make sure they get the schedules they need to accomodate their "sport." I hate that crap, should just be register when Freshman register and call it a day.
Registration was from 8-12 for A-L. We slept a little late and didn't get there until 8:45. We had everything in order. We were ready to go. The cover letter on the packet said the process would take 30 minutes. Lying bastards.
I left the man-child at home becuase one thing I really needed more than exposure to 200 high schoolers was to take my eleven year-old into that environment. Someone shoot me now. Oh, by the way, the batteries on BOTH the cordless phones have died in the last six weeks, leaving me with effectively no land line. Bubba doesn't have a cell phone. He got to wing it.
At 10:04, when the football teams (yes, both of them) came in and the collective odor-ometer pegged out to "extreme," I started to wonder if we were ever going to be finished. With the waiting portion of registration.
Evah.
Our system (mastermindingly crafted, by the way) required one to obtain a ticket with a number upon entry to the cafeteria. One would then proceed to the seating area and seat. And seat. And seat. When one's number was called, one would proceed to the first station for forms inspection, then on to the nexts of about ten other stations. We go there at 8:45, 'member? Our number was 102. They called 38 when we left the number-giver-outer-guy. He didn't call another number until about ten minutes later. No one told me there would be a nap station for registration, and I am a little pissed at that. I could have brought my peeloh and gotten some shuteye.
10:00. Number 52. No, seariussly.
10:15. Number 53.
10:45. Number 60. Son of a biscuit maker, we movin' now!
Psyche.
Sew, it was 11:15 when we got to Number 102. Jesus heard me. Just not as fast as he heard the others cuz I gots no rosary.
Once we began to circulate through the stations, we were doing ok. Until. IDs and Fees. The ID card matching started acting like a teenager and decided to stop all activity. "Jew can go ahea threw dee udder stashuns and affer jew have jews techsbuhxes and get jews ID." Whu?
Next was the lunch station. See, we don't qualify for reduced or free lunches any more, so I thought we could skip that one. Nope! "I knee jews ping cheet so I can sheck it off, meehah."
Kelly was there, trying desperately to get the Tomster and Pimp Daddy T registered, only to learn she would have to wait until next Friday. You see, when her father was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she packed the three Ts (Tommy Jr. [15], Terry [14], and Thomas [10]) up and went home to 'Bama to care for him, thusly disenrolling them from the ever-so-streamlined Ysleta Independent School District. That means she has to register on Incoming-Out-of-State Registration Day. Major suckage. They practice with the football team. Oh, and the basketball team. They have for weeks now. Does that, then, not qualify them as "Student Athletes?"
After the lunch lady, we rocked on through the rest of the process and got the... Wait for it... 748 pounds of books La Princessa will require. Oh, and her schedule. What the heck, she's taking French? I didn't know that. Neither did she. Oh well, French it is. And Geography and Algebra and English (AP) and Orchestra and Cheerleading (yes, the class). Then we got the beloved ID. Chee dodent reely like eet, but den chee ees a deenasher.
I think it is cute, but then I am just a mother.
We got home at 12:32.
I sleepy.
Currently listening : Grease (Original 1978 Motion Picture Soundtrack) By Olivia Newton-John Release date: 1991-04-16
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Startin' to Wonder
Current mood: angsty
Ugh. No, really, that's all I can muster. Sort of.
That little jerk is back at it again. I'll have to be vague here. Trust me, if you knew him you would want to.............. I am not going to go there. But I want to.
Diggin in when it isn't your place and saying things to hurt someone really prooves what kind of class A wanker you are.
You said it was because you wanted to say some things knowing you would never again have the chance. It isn't. The reason is that you want to stir things up all over again. You lay the blame on another when you were the one to throw all the stones. Say what you want, little turd, you started it and then you blame the one who was innocent in your little ploy and tell her hurtful things to make her second-guess herself and me. Yeah, me. That's right. Do you remember that I can get the cops involved if I want? I wont let go either. And, when it comes to bite, I can put yours to shame.
You say her allowing me to control her is what defines her. That's pretty profound for a child. Your reasoning is that she didn't "stand up" to me for you. Well, Junior, I'm the one with the uterus and the debit card and until you can produce both those items as well as a few other things, shut it. My parental involvement does not make anyone a bad person or a lesser person. Maybe the fact that you've never been expected to comply with effective and structured parenting shades your vision of the world. But, that is not my problem and I will not allow it to be hers either.
Here's the funny part. You could have let this go and moved beyond. You have chosen not to do so. OK, that's fine. But what you said, you said to be hurtful and then said there would be no way for her to contact you. Why would she want to contact you? And, what are you afraid of when you block her? The truth? You hurt her beyond belief. You made her question herself and made her feel as if she would have no friends if she weren't friends with you. Well, alot you knew, right?
I've said it before and I'll say it again: Love me or hate me, you still say my name.
Currently listening : Keep on Moving By Bob Marley Release date: 2003-12-09
Ugh. No, really, that's all I can muster. Sort of.
That little jerk is back at it again. I'll have to be vague here. Trust me, if you knew him you would want to.............. I am not going to go there. But I want to.
Diggin in when it isn't your place and saying things to hurt someone really prooves what kind of class A wanker you are.
You said it was because you wanted to say some things knowing you would never again have the chance. It isn't. The reason is that you want to stir things up all over again. You lay the blame on another when you were the one to throw all the stones. Say what you want, little turd, you started it and then you blame the one who was innocent in your little ploy and tell her hurtful things to make her second-guess herself and me. Yeah, me. That's right. Do you remember that I can get the cops involved if I want? I wont let go either. And, when it comes to bite, I can put yours to shame.
You say her allowing me to control her is what defines her. That's pretty profound for a child. Your reasoning is that she didn't "stand up" to me for you. Well, Junior, I'm the one with the uterus and the debit card and until you can produce both those items as well as a few other things, shut it. My parental involvement does not make anyone a bad person or a lesser person. Maybe the fact that you've never been expected to comply with effective and structured parenting shades your vision of the world. But, that is not my problem and I will not allow it to be hers either.
Here's the funny part. You could have let this go and moved beyond. You have chosen not to do so. OK, that's fine. But what you said, you said to be hurtful and then said there would be no way for her to contact you. Why would she want to contact you? And, what are you afraid of when you block her? The truth? You hurt her beyond belief. You made her question herself and made her feel as if she would have no friends if she weren't friends with you. Well, alot you knew, right?
I've said it before and I'll say it again: Love me or hate me, you still say my name.
Currently listening : Keep on Moving By Bob Marley Release date: 2003-12-09
Monday, August 4, 2008
So There
Current mood: validated
Last month I went in to the doctor for my excruciating headaches and sleeplessness. I told her I suspected the discomfort had something to do with my sinuses, which have ALWAYS been problematic. I carefully explained exactly how I felt to her and she seemed somewhat sympathetic. She offered up a couple of suggestions, a high-powered decongestant, an anti-inflamatory (for swelling in my sinuses), and a pain pill which was not a narcotic and was not Skittles (Army code for 800 mg Mortin). She also referred me out for a CT scan of my sinuses. I was happy. I thought we might be getting somewhere.
and then...
I mentioned the sleeplessness. Her next question was, "Are you under any stress?" There were several ways I could have answered that incredibly stupid question:
a) I am an Army spouse. Do you think I am under any stress?
b) I am a mother. Of two. Do you think I am under any stress?
c) Football practices have begun and occur four nights a week and I have yet to once again
master the art of making dinner at 1 or 2:00 pm for consumption at 8:30. Do you think I am under any stress?
d) I have lain 317 square feet and a corresponding quantity of baseboards and I hate that kind of crap. Do you think I am under any stress?
e) I still have to either paint all the doors and baseboards in the house or strip the paint off two doors I already started and one door frame, then sand them and stain them, and I hate that kind of crap. Do you think I am under any stress?
f) I still have to finish the kitchen cabinets I started in December. It wont be hard, but it is incredibly time-consuming and since I have no spare time, it could be tricky. Do you think I am under any stress?
g) Geography. Do you think I am under any stress?
h) Two dilapidated trucks. Count 'em. TWO. Do you think I am under any stress?
i) I still have to clean out the office. Do you think I am under any stress?
j) I have not had the Realtor out yet and I was supposed to get the house on the market by the end of August. Do you think I am under any stress?
k) I haven't worked out in any fashion in about two months and I am feeling pretty mushy these days. Do you think I am under any stress?
l) Bob.
m) Treva
n) Mom
o) Having to sell this house. Alone.
p) Flipping old dog. Really old.
q) Cash moves like swamp water into my checking account. Bad. Very bad.
r) My family room smells like cigarette smoke cuz my neighbors smoke and evap cooling pulls that into my house. I don't care if you smoke, seriously, light it on up, just don't do it by my house. Me and my kid are asthmatic.
s) Two houses, two sets of bills, one income.
t) I am sick of mowing grass and the rain keeps falling. I love rain. I love grass. Just don't like what they do when they get together. Oh, and mowing makes my head hurt.
u) IHAVEAKIDENTERINGHIGHSCHOOLTHISFALL!
v) I have to move across the country five days before Christmas.
x) My head keeps hurting
y) I can't sleep
z) Not sleeping makes my head hurt worse, so do you think I am under any stress?
I did NOT use any of those answers.
I did reply that I was trying to get our home ready to sell, basically alone.
Sound the alarm. Her nut-job monitor pegged out. Her tone of voice changed in an instant and she began to baby-talk me. Ah, condescencion, the cure to every stressed out woman. Without even taking another breath, she recanted on her previous treatment plan and told me I needed an anti-depressant and a sleeping pill. One of them is a barbituate and the other contains caffiene- for the girl who can't sleep? So, thirty nine seconds ago I needed stuff to blow the snot out of my head and relieve my pressure and now I need to zone out and knock out? OK.
I did my usual thing. I got pissed. I just couldn't articulate at that moment my frustration with her. I did manage to tell her that I took enough pills every day and wasn't looking for any more. I told her that I just wanted to find the source of the problem so I could deal with it at its roots. And she told me I needed to take the zonie pills for at least a month. She told me they weren't addictive, but I would have to be weaned off of them. Huh? Is that not the very definition of addictive meds?
I went home pissed and scheduled my CT scan. Then I got more mad. And I decided to not take the pills and hope that one day I could shove those pills in the cavernous regiuons of Dr. Lopez. Then I almost totally let that go.
Time passed.
CT scan had.
Scheduled my follow-up.
Time passed.
Went in for appointment.
AND I WAS VINDICATED!!!
I know it sounds strange that I am happy there is a real problem, but I am. It is proof that I did not, indeed, need antidepressants or barbituates or caffiene (at least not in that form).
I sat down and the nurse told me she wasn't back from lunch yet, so I had to wait for her for over twenty minutes. Then I got real mad. So, she asked me, "So, how is yous sinuses been since I sawed you?" After I had spun my secret decoder ring a few times I realized what she wanted to know. I told her that things were slightly better and that I was being adamant about my evening routine so I could fall asleep a little easier, but that I was still having headaches.
Then I told her that, "I believe that medical services are quick to hand out antidepressants to members of the military community because they assume we are all teetering on the edge of losing our minds from grief, sadness or stress, without really addressing the real needs of the patients sitting right in front of them." I told her that I hadn't asked for sleeping pills or mood pills and that she had no right in one breath to change her treatment plan because from one question and half a minute she assessed that my problem was more likely mental than physical. I handed her the two full bottles of pills and told her I never had any intention of taking them.
She apologized. Then she went on to tell me there were no medicines she could give me to make me feel better because my problem could only be corrected surgically. Yup, SURGICALLY.
Apparently my septum is deviated to the point that one of my nostrils is nearly fully blocked (other one ain't too great either) and the lack of proper air flow has caused my sinuses to inflame badly enough that there is near constant pressure. And, surgery on my sinuses and a nose job are the only ways to correct the issue. Joy.
I knew I didn't need those freaking pills.
Currently listening : So There By Five O'Clock Shadow Release date: 1999-04-01
Last month I went in to the doctor for my excruciating headaches and sleeplessness. I told her I suspected the discomfort had something to do with my sinuses, which have ALWAYS been problematic. I carefully explained exactly how I felt to her and she seemed somewhat sympathetic. She offered up a couple of suggestions, a high-powered decongestant, an anti-inflamatory (for swelling in my sinuses), and a pain pill which was not a narcotic and was not Skittles (Army code for 800 mg Mortin). She also referred me out for a CT scan of my sinuses. I was happy. I thought we might be getting somewhere.
and then...
I mentioned the sleeplessness. Her next question was, "Are you under any stress?" There were several ways I could have answered that incredibly stupid question:
a) I am an Army spouse. Do you think I am under any stress?
b) I am a mother. Of two. Do you think I am under any stress?
c) Football practices have begun and occur four nights a week and I have yet to once again
master the art of making dinner at 1 or 2:00 pm for consumption at 8:30. Do you think I am under any stress?
d) I have lain 317 square feet and a corresponding quantity of baseboards and I hate that kind of crap. Do you think I am under any stress?
e) I still have to either paint all the doors and baseboards in the house or strip the paint off two doors I already started and one door frame, then sand them and stain them, and I hate that kind of crap. Do you think I am under any stress?
f) I still have to finish the kitchen cabinets I started in December. It wont be hard, but it is incredibly time-consuming and since I have no spare time, it could be tricky. Do you think I am under any stress?
g) Geography. Do you think I am under any stress?
h) Two dilapidated trucks. Count 'em. TWO. Do you think I am under any stress?
i) I still have to clean out the office. Do you think I am under any stress?
j) I have not had the Realtor out yet and I was supposed to get the house on the market by the end of August. Do you think I am under any stress?
k) I haven't worked out in any fashion in about two months and I am feeling pretty mushy these days. Do you think I am under any stress?
l) Bob.
m) Treva
n) Mom
o) Having to sell this house. Alone.
p) Flipping old dog. Really old.
q) Cash moves like swamp water into my checking account. Bad. Very bad.
r) My family room smells like cigarette smoke cuz my neighbors smoke and evap cooling pulls that into my house. I don't care if you smoke, seriously, light it on up, just don't do it by my house. Me and my kid are asthmatic.
s) Two houses, two sets of bills, one income.
t) I am sick of mowing grass and the rain keeps falling. I love rain. I love grass. Just don't like what they do when they get together. Oh, and mowing makes my head hurt.
u) IHAVEAKIDENTERINGHIGHSCHOOLTHISFALL!
v) I have to move across the country five days before Christmas.
x) My head keeps hurting
y) I can't sleep
z) Not sleeping makes my head hurt worse, so do you think I am under any stress?
I did NOT use any of those answers.
I did reply that I was trying to get our home ready to sell, basically alone.
Sound the alarm. Her nut-job monitor pegged out. Her tone of voice changed in an instant and she began to baby-talk me. Ah, condescencion, the cure to every stressed out woman. Without even taking another breath, she recanted on her previous treatment plan and told me I needed an anti-depressant and a sleeping pill. One of them is a barbituate and the other contains caffiene- for the girl who can't sleep? So, thirty nine seconds ago I needed stuff to blow the snot out of my head and relieve my pressure and now I need to zone out and knock out? OK.
I did my usual thing. I got pissed. I just couldn't articulate at that moment my frustration with her. I did manage to tell her that I took enough pills every day and wasn't looking for any more. I told her that I just wanted to find the source of the problem so I could deal with it at its roots. And she told me I needed to take the zonie pills for at least a month. She told me they weren't addictive, but I would have to be weaned off of them. Huh? Is that not the very definition of addictive meds?
I went home pissed and scheduled my CT scan. Then I got more mad. And I decided to not take the pills and hope that one day I could shove those pills in the cavernous regiuons of Dr. Lopez. Then I almost totally let that go.
Time passed.
CT scan had.
Scheduled my follow-up.
Time passed.
Went in for appointment.
AND I WAS VINDICATED!!!
I know it sounds strange that I am happy there is a real problem, but I am. It is proof that I did not, indeed, need antidepressants or barbituates or caffiene (at least not in that form).
I sat down and the nurse told me she wasn't back from lunch yet, so I had to wait for her for over twenty minutes. Then I got real mad. So, she asked me, "So, how is yous sinuses been since I sawed you?" After I had spun my secret decoder ring a few times I realized what she wanted to know. I told her that things were slightly better and that I was being adamant about my evening routine so I could fall asleep a little easier, but that I was still having headaches.
Then I told her that, "I believe that medical services are quick to hand out antidepressants to members of the military community because they assume we are all teetering on the edge of losing our minds from grief, sadness or stress, without really addressing the real needs of the patients sitting right in front of them." I told her that I hadn't asked for sleeping pills or mood pills and that she had no right in one breath to change her treatment plan because from one question and half a minute she assessed that my problem was more likely mental than physical. I handed her the two full bottles of pills and told her I never had any intention of taking them.
She apologized. Then she went on to tell me there were no medicines she could give me to make me feel better because my problem could only be corrected surgically. Yup, SURGICALLY.
Apparently my septum is deviated to the point that one of my nostrils is nearly fully blocked (other one ain't too great either) and the lack of proper air flow has caused my sinuses to inflame badly enough that there is near constant pressure. And, surgery on my sinuses and a nose job are the only ways to correct the issue. Joy.
I knew I didn't need those freaking pills.
Currently listening : So There By Five O'Clock Shadow Release date: 1999-04-01
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