I lived through the surgery and the bulk of the recovery. Go me.
The trouble is that once again, just like last time, my immune system decided to jump ship rather than stay and attempt to bail out. In other words. . .I kinda passed out at my checkup. This did not make my surgeon happy. Indeed, it displeased him so much that he DEMANDED in the way only a thirty year old Asian man who discusses the past weekend’s fights with the orderly during pre-op can demand, that I be seen in the regular clinic TODAY. As in NOW. As in I WILL CALL THEM AND THOU SHALT BE SEEN. And then he threatened to NEVER TREAT ME AGAIN unless I had this underlying condition dealt with. I think that was supposed to be a threat- but uhh- I don’t really want any more oral surgeries, even though I am quite pleased with my gum-slashing surgeon. At any rate, at his urging, and with the advice that Chris supervise these visits so he could yell at anyone not doing a good job, I got seen. Again. For the same symptoms they have glossed over for the past few years.
You see, any time I’m under any stress (physical or emotional) I become exceptionally weak. I get lightheaded. I pass out. It’s not pretty. The original theory was that these were anxiety attacks. Now, while I will admit to having anxiety issues, you’ve got to question the diagnosis when you’ve been pumped full of every happy pill on the planet, and you are still having all of the same physical symptoms, even though you are much less irritable and annoyed with the aforementioned fainting spells since they’ve drugged 95% of the negativity right out of you. You are willing to laugh about the fact that you just passed out and hit your head on a linoleum floor, because, isn’t it like so funny that this is ALL IN MY HEAD?
After my last surgery they became convinced that we were dealing with hypoglycemia, so they sent me home with a blood sugar monitor so I could check things out. While my blood sugar is consistently low, it doesn’t qualify as true hypoglycemia, so there went another excellent hypothesis. I will admit that seeing Jonas’ utter horror at the barbarism that is DRAWING BLOOD FROM YOUR OWN FLESH gave me a laugh. You have no idea, son.
Now, after seeing another doctor (because in the military you never see the same doctor twice- which could explain why it takes years to get a simple diagnosis), we are testing aspects of my endocrine system. So far this has involved many, many vials of blood being drawn, all of which could not be managed in just one stick, so I no longer have veins in my arms, hands or wrists because they’ve all exploded into black and blue “beauty marks” the size of silver dollars.
The favorite theory defining what the heck is wrong with me is Addsion’s disease, which is basically a cortisol deficiency. Cortisol is the body’s “stress hormone”. It is what revs you up enough to handle things like infections and surgeries and emotional trauma. It increases blood pressure, blood sugar and immunosupressive response. In other words- without enough cortisol, a body has a really hard time getting back to normal after stress. And since I’m the Queen of All Things Stressful these days, frankly, this hypothesis makes a lot of sense. I’m sure one of the 72 pints of blood they needed to test every hormone producing gland in my body will shed some light as to whether or not this is an accurate theory. I’d like to think there’s a three strikes rule in diagnostics, but knowing my luck this could go on forever, because no one will ever find the truth: That I’ve been body snatched by an octogenarian who is now enjoying the thrills of youth while I hobble around feeling like death.
Posted by Lou on July 30, 2007 @ 7:47 pm | 9 Comments
Filed in: Me
The same internal diatribe runs rampant every time I feel under the weather. This recovery period has been no different. I think this might offer actual concrete proof that I am, indeed, looney.
Lou has terrible (insert current malady).
“Oh for heavens sake, quit faking. You’re not that dizzy. Suck it up, get out of bed, get to work. The dishes are filthy, the floors need sweeping , the children are running amok.”
“I do feel quite awful though. I ache in body parts I forgot I had. And I think my painkillers are wearing off.”
“Wuss.”
“No, really. This is actually pretty bad. I had surgery, you know.”
“Uh huh. A few sliced open gums and you’re incapable of a shower. Did I mention that the dishes aren’t doing themselves? And that they’re growing stuff? And that mold makes your house smell?”
“Oh- is that what that is? Ick. Yeah, somebody’s gotta do something about that.”
“And you’d be that somebody. You’re the MOTHER.”
*struggles to get both feet on the floor*
“Crap, I am so dizzy. Ugh. And my mouth seriously hurts.”
*breaks into a coughing fit due to aspirated yuk during a bad moment in surgery*
“Minor surgery you wimp. Minor. Quick the hacking. Get up, get moving. You should run to the store and pick up a few things. Do some laundry- and maybe some pilates while you’re up- you’re putting on weight you know.”
“Hey, now. It wasn’t that minor! I’ll have you know they found out my jaw bone had a nasty infection in it. Scooped it out with a little spoon it was so mushy and gross. There are some good explanations behind the headaches, fever and dizziness that have been keeping me down the past few weeks. And I really can’t do anything about the extra few pounds today. I’m tired.”
“YOU are a hypochondriac. Didn’t you just say they scooped out the infection? Meaning it’s gone? So what if your mouth is full of stitches and you are presently comprised 85% out of Jell-O? Things to do, man. And not just around the house. You are getting behind in work too! Who goes and has surgery the day of the 2nd largest scrapbooking trade show in the industry when she’s supposed to be doing the buying? Huh? Only an idiot. Dirty dishes AND work piling up.”
“Yeah. I know. I’m such a loser. I’ll get up now. I’ll shower.”
*takes a bath since it requires less effort, then crawls, exhausted, back into bed*
“Well, I’m done.”
“Pathetic. Just pathetic. Hey, at least you put on your jeans- I’d forgotten what you looked like without pajamas on, you big baby.”
“Yeah, jeans and a t-shirt. I’m dressed in the uniform of tough chicks who are going to go shovel manure and paint houses. I oughtta be able to muster some energy simply by being dressed for the occasion, right?”
“Right. Now. Up.”
*stands up*
“You know, if you’d just make the damn room stop spinning, we could work something out here.”
Seriously. This is what plays in my head whenever I’m sick. I think my conscience is a masochistic spin off of the Black Knight. Blood spurting everywhere and I’m supposed to be upright threatening to bite people’s legs off.
Posted by Lou on July 26, 2007 @ 2:54 pm | 8 Comments
Filed in: Me
It’s one of those days.
I have too much stress in my life. Today nearly put me over the edge.
I woke up nauseated with a headache. It was that “I think I’m coming down with something” feeling. Ick.
Then Jonas was in total freak out mode over EVERY LITTLE THING mode all day. Just ducky.
Maggie and Jonas bickered all day over what TV show to watch (along with everything else they could possibly turn into a scream fest) until I got so fed up I had Chris take the TV out of their room. (Jonas wailed as though someone he loved had just been brutally murdered right in front of him- truly a primal scream of grief- this tells me that I DID THE RIGHT THING). They are SO DONE. Mama’s HAD IT UP TO HERE!
I had a million pressing things to deal with that I either barely completed or am now feeling guilty about. Peachy. Nothing improves my mood like guilt.
Someone cameover and passed judgement on my family. Not pleased. Not welcome.
The military screwed up our paycheck so now we are dead BROKE until August. Yippee Skippee.
Around lunchtime, as I was painfully trying to eat a plate of spaghetti, I realized that I really couldn’t take any more of the pain in my mouth. Yes, this is the pain that has been there since my wisdom teeth surgery from THREE MONTHS AGO. Yes, it’s the same pain that I have made countless visits to the oral surgery clinic about - only to have them say, “ I just don’t see anything here” for TWO FLIPPING MONTHS STRAIGHT- until FINALLY today, after being miserable, I see a new guy who takes one look at my mouth and without even looking at my x-rays says,
“Hmm. There’s a bone fragment working it’s way out of one of the surgical sites. That would explain why it just won’t heal and why you’ve been in so much pain. The other side, that is your bone trying to grow back, only going the wrong direction, which is causing that ridge, which is causing an open wound and that sensation that someone stuck a nail into your gums. If we don’t shave it off- it will be like that FOREVER. Oh- there is also a chance that in going in there we could damage the nerve there which could leave you with constant phantom pains, also for the rest of your life, but , hey, I’ve never actually seen that happen, just gotta let you know that it can. Especially with your track record.”
Surgery will be on Monday. Fan- flipping- tastic. I was hoping for a ton of pain and another round of drugs. ‘Cause, you know I just didn’t get enough last time around.
TUESDAY- Chris tests for his promotion. Being BROKE we could seriously use a promotion! I’m so glad all of this gets to happen and totally stress my husband out and fill his plate right before he has to take a huge life changing test. Really, really, thank you.
My current Mood? BLACK people. BLACK. Good feelings GONE.
Posted by Lou on July 20, 2007 @ 8:25 pm | 13 Comments
The quickest way to brighten my day is to send me a package in the mail. Since living so far away from family, and the advent of internet shopping (work online, shop online, if they would just broadcast church over the internet I’d never have to leave my house again!) you would think that I would have grown accustomed to getting packages in the mail. Oddly enough, ever single box left at my house gives me the same rush of anticipation, even when I know exactly what I ordered three days ago from Amazon. Still, it is a BOX! With my name on it! For ME! My giddiness knows no bounds.
This particular package is pretty exciting, and not just because it came in the mail but because it came from Quickutz. Back in April, Quickutz contacted me about doing some part time design work for them, so I’ve been super excited to play with the not yet released, super-duper top secret dies. I got this package on Monday at lunch and by Tuesday night I had churned out seven projects! Impressive, even for me.
While I can’t show you guys the stuff now (have to wait for them to be released) I’ll let you know when they are up online!
Posted by Lou on July 19, 2007 @ 9:42 am | 3 Comments
Do you ever have nights where you have such a horrible dream about your loving and wonderful husband that you wake up in the middle of the night and seriously consider beating the sleeping man at your side to a bloody pulp?
Last night, that was me. I calmed myself and went back to sleep- WHERE THE DARN DREAM CONTINUED on in all of it’s horrific details, making me even madder at my blissfully unaware hubby.
At 6am, I awoke, released from this nightmare, and made myself get out of the bed and leave the bedroom so I didn’t wake him up by screaming, because, despite how furious I was at him, the logical voice in the back of my head was repeating “justadreamjustadreamjustadream” loudly enough to save his life.
Now, an hour later, I’m sitting at the computer, eating a bowl of chocolate Malt-o-Meal, still rather ticked off. Oh, I said hi to Chris when he got up, then sequestered myself in the scrapbooking room where I continue to stew and fume about said dream, because I am not nice enough to be with people quite yet.
Crazy what your subconscious can do to you, isn’t it?
Posted by Lou on July 18, 2007 @ 6:05 am | 5 Comments
Journaling Reads:
Don’t let the pajamas fool you. This is a self portrait of a woman who is incapable of relaxing. Her mind goes a million miles an hour, and every back burner in her brain is bubbling over. She over thinks, over analyzes, and is frequently overwrought. She is usually a pretty nice person; she tries to be pleasant, but in every situation, whether fun or difficult, she is constantly a ball of high strung nervous energy. She has trouble focusing on the now, and is a total planner- even when she knows that the best laid plans don’t last. Don’t get me wrong, this woman is a consummate escapist- she can check out from reality at the drop of a hat, losing herself in a book, a project or inside her own overactive imagination. But to be in the now and be calm- it is almost unheard of. Neurotic and edgy, she goes through her days wondering what it feels like to be relaxed. It doesn’t do her any good to be this way. She gets hives from stress and becomes irritable. Earlier this week she was wound so tightly she had to go in for a shot of muscle relaxant to stop a crippling headache. It is self destructive to be this tense. Her husband asked her, “Can’t you just wipe your mind? Make it blank?” No, no, no. She has no idea how to do that. Like Ray Steven’s Butterfly In a Coupe De Ville, she is fluttering so frantically she can’t stop to see the way out.
Posted by Lou on July 16, 2007 @ 6:29 pm | 7 Comments
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