In Like a Lamb...Out Like a Lion?

Arg. Le sigh.

After Gertie the gallbladder, ended last semester with a bang, I wanted to finish my college career without any more "bangs". Apparently I didn't send that memo to the right person.

Saturday night I'm quite sure I had a puke on the side of the road experience that even drunk college students would be jealous of.

My husband had a Meat & Greet (yep spelled it that way on purpose) with his bosses and co-workers on Saturday night. I was excited to have a night away and some amazing Cagle's BBQ for dinner. So we were partying the night away. After dinner, I started feeling icky, but after an early appointment the middle of the week for some antidepressants (yep, I caved), I figured that it was the new meds. As they had already caused some other symptoms. So I wasn't too concerned, I just preferred not to barf on my husband's boss. Thankfully things ended and we left before I got sick. I told my husband that I wasn't feeling well, but he had been drinking, and I drove us home. The closer that we got to home, the more I was concerned about actually making it home before I had to hurl. I was doing the whole, breathe in, breathe out thing, and I was almost there. We turned onto our street, and I took another deep breath, and ... well, I'll spare you the details. But let's just say that down the street from us was a pile of vomit in the middle of the street. Because I was driving, I sorta used my shirt to ...um...catch the stuff while I could pull over.

So here I am, standing in the street in jeans, flip flops, and a shirt, covered in barf. Not wanting to get back into my less than year old car covered in puke, I took my shirt off, and did what any self respecting 33 year old would do. I left it in the street.

Yep. I abandoned my shirt in front of a complete stranger's house. I never really liked that shirt anyway. So it wasn't that big of a loss. My husband was kinda impressed that I got naked in the middle of the street though. I was impressed that I managed to drive 3 more blocks to our house and not puke, or get puke on anything else.

I've got a nasty bacterial intestinal infection called c diff. So, no school, no work for a couple of weeks, because I'm contagious. They don't want me to start an epidemic  They are totally no fun at all. Everyone should experience uncontrollable vomiting and diarrhea at least once in their life. I mean, where is there sense of adventure?

Tonight, I read an email from my advisor, because I'm trying to figure out how this semester is going to work itself out and I learn that my professors don't have to work with me. I'm sick. I'm staying home trying to get better, trying to make this work and turn in stuff via email and salvage some of my GPA for this semester, when I learn that it's up to the professors discretion. They can fail me for being sick and following doctor's orders and avoiding the faculty and staff. Even employees are protected by employment laws, but as a student, I apparently have no rights. They won't trust my doctors notes and information that I'm sick. That I'm actually protecting them. Isn't that awesome?

It seems like this week has dealt us a lot of blows. I'm getting limited funds for school for the fall and spring semester. Now I could be facing another F on my GPA. I worked my ass off this semester to attempt to make up for the F I got last semester, and now...well apparently, because I got infected from someone else with c diff, I'm stuck at home paying for their sins. Heck, they might have just been a desperate college student trying to avoid failing their semester, like I am.

Some days, I just would like things to work out for us, and not make things so difficult. Le sigh.

2012

This year has been....a year.

I've joked with John all year long that the catastrophic events of this year were all his fault. He was the one who said that 2011 was the year that all years would be compared against as far as the level of suck was concerned. John lost both of his grandfathers that year, and we had a huge falling out with his brother, sister, parents, and remaining grandmother. He was quite sure it couldn't get worse. However, before February was even over with, God decided to take his challenge and make sure that those were not words that John will ever utter again, especially if he wanted to live and do well with me.

January:
John lost his job. We found out that my niece and possibly my nephew were being sexually abused by their father. He was arrested. My sister-from-another-mother and good friend Andrea was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer.

February:
Andrea went to Houston because her colon was so messed up none of the local doctors would even touch her or begin treatments of the cancer. John's cousin's wife committed suicide.

March:
Andrea was still in Houston. My dad was hospitalized for what we thought was pneumonia. He ended up having both strains of the flu as well as pneumonia. He was so deprived of oxygen and sick that he ended up being put on a ventilator for 4 days. They were concerned  that because of the lack of oxygen because of how sick he was that he might have suffered brain damage. Fortunately, his brain was only as damaged as it was before all of this.

April:
One year since Grandpa passed away. One year since all of the fallout with the family began.

May:
Finals. Need I say more.

June:
Summer school - thankfully this month wasn't so bad, and we were thinking that the year was looking up.

July:
Just trucked along

August:
School. Hate most of my professors. Liked the classes. Hated the professors. Arg.

September:
Andrea's colon ruptures. She spent a week on a ventilator. Worried that she might not make it out of the hospital. But thankfully she rallied, and went home. She spent almost the entire month in the hospital. Her husband suckers my husband into going to the lease. Thankfully no dead animal adorns my walls..yet. I discover that something isn't right with my innards. Go to ER the day after my 33rd birthday. Told to go home and take the narcotic pain meds. Tried that, but didn't remember going to school and a variety of other things, so just took thousands of ibuprofen trying to survive the worst of it.

October:
Felt so bad that I don't remember anything, other than trying to make it to class and to work. Pretty much quit cooking and cleaning completely. Basically didn't study much either. Just felt so, so bad.

November:
Finally got the referral to the specialist. Had actual surgery to remove very, very sick gallbladder the week before Thanksgiving. Felt some relief for the first time in months. Then the joys of a body adjusting to no gallbladder.

December:
Finals. Failed my first class. Probably because I shouldn't take a final the same day that I had to say goodbye to my sister-from-another-mother. December 6th, Andrea went home. There's a post in there somewhere about her. But I just can't write it yet. I barely could type those words without breaking down into tears. Stressed about followup with gastro, because the pain was back. Thankfully gastro thinks it's just my body adjusting.


Sure, there have been some high points, and some of the issues, like John losing his job, actually have turned out to be a blessing. And well, some of them, like losing Andrea just suck. So while most of this year was events that I could have done without, like the gallbladder epidemic, I don't know that I would change any of it. Even Andrea. As much as that breaks my heart to say, I think that her being a part of my life served a purpose, and I think that losing her will serve a purpose too. Even though I'm not sure what it could possibly be at this point. She did teach me a great amount about forgiveness, faith and believing in myself. But that's another post entirely.

So, my request for 2013 - Lord, give me the strength to make it through whatever it is that you throw at us this year. Help me to have more patience during those moments of insanity and suck, and help us find peace, not matter what the situation. And if you could help out with my GPA, I'd be eternally grateful.

Gertie Goes to Heaven

Today is another sad day around here. Gertie went to the pathologist on Monday.

Yep, you read that right. The gallbladder was evicted on Monday.

I feel fantastic. That pain in my side that I've lived with every waking moment since September. Finally gone. Gertie was a sick little puppy. Highly irritated and inflamed, and I would imagine a few more months and the words ruptured would have been included in the picture. It was bad folks.

Thankfully, the right doctor gets the job done. Now, I'm working on getting back up and running. Here's the rundown.

Saturday I had an appointment with the gastro that I had been referred too. I was thankful that my appointment had been moved up, and that this doctor does random Saturday clinics, so that I could get in earlier. So we sat in the waiting room, I studied for a business law test, and Brad played on my Kindle. We got back to the room, and started going over everything with the doctor. He mashes around on my belly, tells me he's quite sure it's the gallbladder, and that they can admit me. Huh?

I've spent 2 months with several different doctors and 5 minutes with this guy, and he's going to poke me in the hospital, do a scope because I'd been taking unbelievable amounts of Advil so that I could function through the pain. He was concerned that I might have an ulcer on top of everything else. Thankfully my stomach was fine. So they make arrangements to get me on a list to get my gallbladder out on Monday.

They came in late Saturday night to get some blood for lab work, and couldn't find a vein. I'm not typically a hard person to get blood from, but after 2 months of not eating right, not drinking enough, I was severely dehydrated. I had thought I was bad, simply because of the headaches I was getting, but I couldn't get any other doctor's to voice the same concerns that I had.

Sunday I laid in a bed, and tried to take naps, mostly because they had kept waking me up every 90 minutes the prior night. So Monday morning at 5am they came in to get me to take a shower, and put on a beautiful hospital gown. I'd been wearing my own pj's, because let's face it, those hospital gowns only cover part of the parts, and I prefer all my parts to be covered. We were on the list for about 1:30 surgery time.

John's sweet cousin came about 8 and sat with us until they wheeled me to the OR, and then sat with Brad while I was in surgery. Her presence probably kept some of my nerves at bay, because when they came to get me, I wasn't nervous, just a slight surreal feeling. I think part of me still believed that I'd wake up and be in pain, and nothing would have changed.

Now, here's where it gets dicey. They gave me something to help me relax, and then John kissed me, and told me he loved me, then they wheeled me to the OR. I remember getting in, and climbing on a table, and not much after that. Which is disappointing, I'd have liked to have looked around and checked things out, but I was unconscious before I had a chance to do much.

The next thing I remember is waking up in recovery with some serious pain, which they gave me a shot of the good drugs for. Then my mouth and throat were so dry from the tube that I asked for some ice chips. They pretty much gave me ice, and then sometime later, they told me they were moving me back to my room. I remember John, and his cousin standing their, and I remember seeing my father-in-law and sister-in-law standing outside my room. Then I remember them letting me pee, because they were pushing some serious fluids. They got me in bed, then started checking my vitals, and I suddenly remember having the urge to throw up, and I did, twice. But they said that with all my innards confused by the lack of the gallbladder, that it wasn't surprising, and it wasn't much. I felt really groggy, sore, and like most of Monday is a blur.

They let me come home Tuesday morning, around 11, and part of Tuesday is still foggy. I remember coming home. I remember spilling a glass of water in the floor, and I remember eating dinner. But not much in between.

Yesterday was better, and today was even better. The soreness is starting to get more bearable, I've cut way, way back on the pain med's, and when I woke up this morning I felt good. I felt good for the first time in almost 2.5 months. No nausea, no pain, no headaches. Just like I'd had a good night's sleep.

Of course, after a couple of hours up and moving around, that all changed. I'm still worn out. I know that it will take me some time to build my strength back up, and that even though I only have a few incisions, that this was a major surgery and ordeal for my body to get over. Especially since it had been going on for so long. I know that the next few weeks and months are going to be rough until I rebuild some of my strength. But I'm just so thankful to be feeling better that I'll take the need for lots of naps. I think I've slept more today than I've been awake.

Right now, I'm just thankful to not feel Gertie stabbing me constantly. So, I won't complain about the naps, and the 2 week vacation from school, and the limited activities after that. I'll be thankful that Gertie won't be around at Christmas and that I won't have to create a DIY website for organ removal, because let's face it, another few months, and I'd have volunteered for the test dummy.

I'm alive...and coughing

Well, I know that I've been MIA for almost a week now.  I finally caved and went to the doctor last Friday night (after my Dean's List reception (read about that next week)). I figured that it was going to be bad. My ear hurt, my throat hurt, I had an awful cough, I was just miserable in general.

Instead I left with a shot in the hip and 2 infections. Sinus and Upper Respiratory. Beautiful. So a $35 co-pay and $76 in drugs later.

And lots of sleepless nights and general feeling like poo.

I'm sorta better. I still have this lingering cough, but for the most part, today, I feel almost normal. Almost.

I still have no appetite, nothing tastes like it should, and my asthma is pissed at me for not going to the doctor that it stages random revolts, but other than that. I'm good.

I'm feeling good enough that my husband has been sending me suggestive text messages all day about a marital summit in our bedroom tonight and I haven't been telling him that the building is being repaired.

Now, I'm off to do calculus homework! I'll see you tomorrow for 5 Question Friday!

Positive Thinking

A couple of weeks ago, I was misreable. My head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, my sinuses felt like that were going to explode great big green goo, and my eyes, well, let's just say I know why chihuahua dogs eye balls stick out like that do. Blasted sinus pressure!

So I did what any rational adult does. I whined about it on facebook.

Because I'm lazy and I feel like I'm thisclose from death, I won't go back and find the exact quote, but here is the high points.

"Dear Sinus Infection, I'm really busy right now and can't handle any sickness. I'm free Oct. 8-11, Nov 23-27 and anytime after December 13th. Can we please work something out and reschedule? Thanks, your host."

I woke up the next morning feeling much better, which was great because I had a test a few days later and I didn't want it to be taken under the influence of sinus medication.

So my body didn't exactly get the details right, and waited until Sunday for the ickiness to start in. Asthma, runny nose, cough.

Oh great.

After a jog through the rain, and sitting in wet clothes for 2 hours, I figured I was kinda screwed, but still. How's that for coincidence. The weekend that I say I'm free to diseases, I'm actually sick.

So no more joking about rescheduling diseases and infections. Nope. Now, it's I won't ever be sick. I won't ever be sick. I won't ever be sick. Ok that's probably not realistic, so how about, I will be awesome tomorrow because I have class from 9am to 3:30pm. I will not be the sneezy, snotty, sore throat, cough infested person that I am today. I will be 100% better tomorrow.

How's that for positive thinking.

Send prayers too, just in case. And I'll take cold medicine too, because let's face it, I want to breathe today too.

Cold Medicine - The Legal Drug

WARNING: Read at your own risk. I have taken large quantities of "day" cold medicine that is not supposed to make you drowsy or goofy, and apparently they lie.

But writing a blog post sure beats writing a paper on ethics. Especially if you don't have many. Papers that is, not ethics. I'm pretty sure I have ethics, but the cold medicine is making me do weird things, so I can't really vouch for anything right now. Except that I'm still sarcastic, apparently you can't get rid of that.

I'm typically not much of a procrastinator, and I'm really not procrastinating on homework, it's not due until Thursday. So you can tell me I'm procrastinating. Well, you can, but I'm not listening.

Cooking dinner. I get in the mood to cook, which I told my husband the other day was kinda like sex (sorry mom). Sometimes you are in the mood, and sometimes you aren't. When I'm in the mood, I could cook all sorts of stuff, but when I'm not in the mood, making a sandwich is too much cooking for me. Anybody else out there feel like that?

Why do people think if it's alive you can eat it? Snails? Frog? Eel? Octopus? What happened to just sticking with farm animals. If you can't find it in Old McDonald's song, then you probably shouldn't eat it. And a few things like the kitty, and puppy that you shouldn't eat that are in the song. Hmmm...that just took an intersting turn, and reminds me about Chinese food.

Why are there black and blue berries, but Strawberries and Raspberries are not named after colors? We could do red berries and fushia berries. Why are strawberries and raspberries so special that they aren't color named?

See, I'm telling you that cold medicine makes you crazy.  Please don't point out that I'm like this all the time.  You can keep that little tidbit to yourself.