Mystery Diagnosis and Other Medical Issues

Bad news.

Really bad news.

I'm going to have to change my "Endometriosis" tag to "Mystery Diagnosis".

Why? Because I got a phone call from the gynecologist. My old general practitioner's (GP), Dr. J., office sent my most recent blood test results to the GYN, so with those and my ultrasound results he made a decision.

The decision that my problem was not gynecological.

So I guess it's just a coincidence that my pain is synchronized with my cycle. And apparently he doesn't care anymore that I said I think it's endometriosis, and that he agreed that it could be, and that he himself said the only way to tell for sure was surgery. But apparently none of that matters anymore because he had some kind of psychic vision that my problem isn't gynecological.

If it ends up being endometriosis I'm going to make an appointment just to punch him in the face.

I've got an appointment with the new GP, Dr. S, in about two weeks so he's going to get an earful about that. For sure.

--

One of the co-morbid disorders of fibromyalgia that isn't often talked about is AAIFS, or Annoying-Ass Ignorant Family Syndrome. AAIFS is almost never found in the fibromyalgia patient themselves but is actually found in the people surrounding the patient. Variations of AAIFS are AAIFS2 (Annoying-Ass Ignorant Friend Syndrome) and AAIAS or Annoying-Ass Ignorant Acquaintance Syndrome, often found in friends of friends or coworkers of the patient.

Symptoms of AAIFS, AAIFS2 and AAIAS include comments covered in What Not to Say, but also include a general ignorance, often with refusal to comprehend what's being told to them in response to their ignorant-ass comments.

Yesterday I was feeling pretty awful so I took a Vicodin and, for whatever reason, while I was showering an hour or so later I was overcome by weakness, dizziness, and nausea-- I really thought I was going to faint. I sat down for a little while because I was afraid that if I laid down I really would pass out, so I sat and waited it out. When it passed I was okay, but pale and shaky. I told my mother what happened and that I'd be staying downstairs for a little while afterwards in case I really did faint.

She started hemming and hawing about my eating habits (which are normal and haven't changed in months), then started in about how much I've been sleeping-- which I admit is a lot, 12 hours or more daily, but that's because of the change in medication and I may need a new sleep aid.

I tried to explain to her about how switching a major part of my medication (Lyrica now instead of Celebrex: New Doctor, New Methods) is going to mess me up for a while until we get it worked out, and how Dr. S. said he would normally see a person in my condition for whom he's changing a major part of their medicinal regime he would see once a week but because of our horrible insurance and financial difficulties I can only see him once a month.

Then she did her "I still disagree even though you had a logical and reasonable answer for each of the points I brought up" pursing her lips face (not to be confused with her "I want to say more because I think you're wrong and stupid but I can't because you're in no condition to fight" pursing her lips face) so I knew that was the end of the discussion.

It's so frustrating, and I don't know what to do. Arthur, Janet and I were talking about Arthur's, Mick's, and my fatal stubbornness that we get from our mother...I mean, we hang on to things that we think or feel waaaay past the time that everyone else thinks or sees that we should stop, but we either don't see it or don't care that it's there. Tenacity is a good thing, but we cross the line into obstinacy.

It takes a lot, a lot, to convince her to change her mind, and I really don't know what else to do. She has plantar fasciitis, so it's not like she's a stranger to chronic pain...but she just refuses to...or she can't...I don't know. I don't even know how to describe it.

Let's just say she's ignorant of the real situation but is too stubborn to see it differently and it annoys the crap out of me.

--

This situation sucks from about 15 different angles.

But hang in there with me, kids, we'll all get through it.

Saturday Summary and the Electric Mayhem

To those uninitiated to the Saturday Summary here at Salami & Orchids, it's basically just random things that occur to me or happen to me through the week before that aren't really posts in themselves, but are entertaining/informative nonetheless.

New Beginnings: The Food Network or "Background Music" launched a new show Thursday called "Sweet Genius"...basically "Chopped: Desserts". If you don't watch Chopped I insist you do so immediately, it's like Iron Chef turned up to 11. In each of three rounds (appetizer, entree, and dessert) a chef is removed from the competition based on the taste, originality, and plating of a dish made from 3-5 mystery ingredients introduced at the beginning of each round, starting the first round with 4 chefs. The mystery ingredients range from average fruits, vegetables, and meats to the craziest or foreign fruits, vegetables, and meats, or pre-prepared items like boxed Mac & Cheese, teething biscuits, Raisinettes, or hot cross buns. The chefs have to transform the ingredients and make them fit into their dishes seamlessly. The winner receives a $10,000 prize.

It's freaking awesome.

So Sweet Genius takes the same format (4 chefs; 3 rounds; mystery ingredients; $10,000 prize) and applies it to desserts. Unfortunately, it's not exactly the same. What they changed is kind of disappointing, they added strange gimmicks. The show is hosted and judged by one guy instead of three judges and hosted by Ted Allen of "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" fame. Instead of Ted and the judges explaining the more obscure mystery ingredients, the 2 mystery ingredients are revealed and described by a kind of creepy, disembodied, robotic woman's voice. The judge also gives the chefs an "inspiration" and only one of the mystery ingredients, then the second is introduced halfway through the round. It's pretty annoying.

And I wish there were more judges-- more judges means more opinions, and if you have a judges that doesn't particularly enjoy an ingredient a chef used (like on Chopped, judge Scott Conant hates raw onions) then another judge that likes them balance each other out.

Don't get me wrong, I'll still watch the crap out of it, but I won't be as happy about it as I could be.

--

Nephew Talk: Oh, the boys, the boys, the boys...

Deb and Mick's son Manny is still struggling in kindergarten, but nothing more than expected, really. He hasn't been to the behavioral specialist yet, but the school's child study team is meeting with Mick and Deb on Monday, so it'll be interesting. What we currently think is happening is mild to moderate Asperger's or high-functioning Autism with a severe Auditory Processing Disorder, but it's all speculation, we just have to wait. The waiting is frustrating, though, because the poor boy is being punished at school for not listening or following directions. The thing is, he doesn't care he's being punished-- he has no concept of being in trouble or doing anything wrong, he just floats through the day while his teachers cite him to his parents as being a behavioral problem...we're much more upset about it than he is. It's a strange situation.

Arthur and Janet's son Sean has started preschool, and after being sick only one day of his life he came out of two weeks of preschool with two ear infections, pink eye, and a cold. Poor little thing. We're going to see him next weekend because he's turning two on October 2nd, and I'm so excited. I miss his little face. We talk to him on the phone a lot-- Arthur and Janet put the phone on speaker so we all get to talk to each other and talk to him. It's interesting because we can actually talk to him and ask him questions about his day and he can answer, mostly "yes" and "no" but when he babbles he does it with purpose, he's trying to tell you something-- which is leaps and bounds from a conversation you have with Manny. Even when Manny is trying to tell you something most of what he says is gibberish.

Manny did tell me yesterday that his brain is in his head, though, so that's pretty cool.

--

Told You I was Bad: You know, or should know, that I want you all to learn from my mistakes (The Internship from Hell). Remember when I said I had $10 in library fines in Saturday Summary +8? Turns out it was actually $33 because they thought I'd lost the books. They ended up only charging me $15 because I "found" them...oops.

I got out 3, and I'll probably get all three done and reviewed before I finish Middlemarch because it's so enormous, so look forward to more book reviews coming soon.

--

Apparently nobody has an answer as to why people (like me) have vinegar cravings. That's really, really annoying...when I Google something random I want an answer, damn it. At least I got an answer for Why I Crave Junk Food When I'm Sick...apparently it's because getting sick as stressful to the body as emotional stress, the same emotional stress that also makes you want junk food. Interesting.

Oh my god, I WANT VINEGAR. I'm seriously considering just dumping a ton on my dinner...just thinking about that is making my mouth water. Or maybe for a snack tonight I'll roast some potatoes and dip them in some...

--

Finishing up today I'd like to say a great big Happy Birthday to one of history's greatest entertainers: Mr. Jim Henson. I grew up on Sesame Street, The Dark Crystal, Labyrinth, and The Muppet Show and it breaks my heart that he's gone, that there will never be anything new from him.

At least his spirit lives on.

Sleep well, Mr. Henson, and thank you for making me laugh, feel, and learn in my past, present, and future.

--

Upcoming Posts really do include Fight Club & Self Injury, as well as Chandler's and my review of The Lion King, the first appointment with my new doctor, and a pause in posting due to the return of the pain. And in lieu of next week's Saturday Summary I'll be posting all day from New Jersey to Maryland and back.

Remember to return any overdue library books!!

Bridget Jones's Diary by Helen Fielding

Mark your calendars, here's an occasion where the movie is better than the book.

Not a lot. Just enough to not be a tie.

But that's not to say that the book isn't good, because it is. Sometimes? I'm not sure how to organize my thoughts here.

...

Okay, I've got it.

Things I liked:

I liked the honesty of the relationships between Bridget and her friends, like how Bridget's friend Jude stays with her boyfriend Vile Richard despite his vile-ness and all of her friends saying she'd be better off without him. We all have that friend: miserable but just can't let go for whatever reason.

And I liked the honesty of the relationships between Bridget and her family, and family friends-- like the unending parade of parties, picnics, and celebrations you're forced to attend, plastering a smile to your face. And Bridget, like all single women, are hounded with the same question by them all: When are you going to get married? I was only 14 when Arthur and Janet got married and even then I was getting "When's it going to be your turn?" Bridget really is the voice of single women everywhere, it's not an exaggeration.

Bridget's relationships with men are spot-on, as well: waiting for the phone to ring, checking 100 times to see if maybe you missed a call when you weren't paying attention, and the flirty first stages of getting together and the constant nagging doubts, "Does he really like me? Really? No, I mean, but really?"

And Fielding summed up the amount of work that goes into womanhood better than anyone or anything else I've ever seen:

6 p.m. Completely exhausted by entire day of date preparation. Being a woman is worse than being a farmer- there is so much harvesting and crop spraying to be done: legs to be waxed, underarms shaved, eyebrows plucked, feet pumiced, skin exfoliated and moisturized, spots cleansed, roots dyed, eyelashes tinted, nails filed, cellulite massaged, stomach muscles exercised. The whole performance is so highly tuned you only need to neglect it for a few days for the whole thing to go to seed. Sometimes I wonder what I would be like if left to revert to nature- with a full beard and handlebar mustache on each shin, Dennis Healey eyebrows, face a graveyard of dead skin cells, spots erupting, long curly fingernails like Struwwelpeter, blind as a bat and stupid runt of species as no contact lenses, flabby body flobbering around. Ugh, ugh. Is it any wonder girls have no confidence?

How right is that? She's inside my head.

Also inside my head, and also a little inside Mia's from The Princess Diaries head (the novels, not the movies), Bridget thinks it's hot when boys get authoritative-- and Lord, ain't it the truth. Whew.

Thing I mostly liked but really sort of didn't:

The deal with Bridget's weight. This is delicate because Bridget's obsession and confusion and struggle and up, down, up up up up, down, up, down, down, up up up up, down, up, down, down, down dance with the scale are all deeply realistic, the amount of weight being talked about (and sneered about) is paltry. Bridget spends the book at about 125 pounds and is fixated on losing 6.

And I know when you're slender and always have been that those few pounds really seem to make a difference but we need to collectively, as a world, start getting realistic about numbers. Nobody, no matter how cruel, will say about 123 pound woman that's over 5 feet tall, "I thought you said she was thin." This is the kind of thing that fuels eating disorders and shouldn't be portrayed as "normal", like everywoman Bridget Jones.

To rectify this situation with myself I mentally added 30 pounds to each of the weights Bridget claimed. Made me feel much better.

Things I didn't like:

Certain elements of the story bothered me. In fact, the worst subplot of them all was excluded from the movie and the movie was the better for it, it was just too, too unrealistic.

I also didn't like some of the style Fielding used for Bridget's writings, at times it felt far too slangy...but then, I was never the type to doodle or shorthand in my own diaries, and it grated me in The Princess Diaries, too. That's probably just a personal thing...

And I wasn't a fan of Mark Darcy's part in the book, I think his character was also handled better by the movie. While I liked how he loved Bridget all along, flaws and all, he was colder in the book, and when he comes through for her in the end it seems to almost come out of nowhere. Especially what he goes through for her before they're even properly dating! Not kidding, he goes to Portugal. I felt like a queen when Herbert once stopped at Wawa for me on his way to my house and he didn't have to go a foot out of his way to do it. AND we were dating at the time.

Another thing, that was a complete surprise, was the confrontation (read: fight) between Mark and Daniel doesn't happen in the book. That was surprising. Maybe it's in the following books, I don't know, I'm just saying that it doesn't happen in this book. And I was disappointed.

In the end, it's a good book-- a light, entertaining read with genuine heart and solid writing.

3 stars out of 5.

See Blauthor, Blauthor! for more of my reviews.

My September 11, 2001

How gorgeous is this? It was taken by Katie Weisberger a few months before the attack. It was beautiful before, but now it's stunning.

I was sixteen when my last remaining grandparent died, and I regret never having talked to them about their experiences growing up-- like during the Depression and WWII. And I didn't know, and neither did my brothers, until after our grandparents had died that my mother was actually 100% Slovak. We knew my mother's grandparents didn't speak much English, but they had died when she was young and we never met them. It's strange now knowing that I'm actually half something, something specific, but I know so little about it.

So now I want so badly to record histories, as much as I can, for anyone curious about what life was like for someone, somewhere, sometime. So here's my 9/11 story, for anyone forever.

I remember like it was yesterday. I even remember what I was wearing. It started out as any normal day-- I was 13 and had just started the 8th grade. During first period the fire alarm went off and everyone filed outside. There had been a "smell" in the school's kitchen, and they were concerned that it might be leaking gas, so they had to evacuate the building while firemen did an inspection.

I can't stress enough how beautiful of a day it was. The temperature was perfect, there was a slight breeze and the sky was the most amazing blue I'd ever seen-- before or since. We all ended up sitting in the grass of the field behind the school and talking for about an hour before we were given the all-clear to go back into the building.

This may be hard for younger readers to remember, but way back in 2001 iPods were not as prevalent as they are today. "Not as prevalent" as in they hadn't been released yet. They were still just a glimmer in Steve Jobs' eye. Back in the day we had Walkmen. Walkmans? Walkmens. The new Sony Walkman is infinitely cooler than the radio/audio cassette combines we had then but that was all there was. And we weren't supposed to have them in school. I don't know why, exactly, but we weren't supposed to have them, so when our 2nd period teacher asked us if anybody had a radio we all thought it was a trap and said no. I'm going to say more than half the class had radios in their lockers, my own was 2 feet from the door sitting in my locker, but we all played dumb. "No big deal, " she said. "A plane just flew into one of the Twin Towers, and if somebody had a radio we could listen to the news about it, but it's alright." And we moved on.

We thought it was an accident. It'd happened before, why would this time be any different? The pilot was probably drunk. Who hits a building?

Third period our teacher didn't even bring it up. Looking back I'm completely unsurprised-- it's so like her. I didn't understand it that day but I know now that she was protecting us. Those forty minutes were the last of our lives before we found out the truth. That time diagramming sentences...that was it. I'll always be grateful to her for that-- like getting us get one last night's sleep in our old lives instead of waking us up in the middle of the night to tell us our father died. We found out later that day that just about everybody else was hearing the truth and freaking out around us while we were having a completely normal class.

Fourth period I was one of 9 kids in a music appreciation class that I'm absolutely certain I was put into to give the teacher some support because, beside my friend Raquel, the other 7 kids in class were the worst behaved boys in our grade, 3 of which I had gone to elementary school with.

That day they were incredibly well-behaved.

Because our teacher came into the room with red eyes and a red nose, her voice all strangled, telling us to sit down, that she had to tell us something. We thought she'd had a death in the family or something, that she was going to tell us she was leaving as soon as the substitute showed up. "There's going to be an announcement in a few minutes, but there is no point in waiting. Some of you know, some of you don't, the plane that flew into the World Trade Center this morning was no accident. It was followed by a second. Another plane has hit the Pentagon. Our country is under attack."

I had to run from the room to throw up. It was so surreal, I was staring at the toilet and people, thousands of people, were dying.

The rest of the day was a whirl of hugs and going to the classrooms with TVs so we could watch the news. Everybody was hugging everybody. The random kid on your bus you never spoke to before? You hugged them. Everyone asked everyone else if they were alright, and parents were coming in to take their kids home. Our band teacher had us play, and we did, but only halfheartedly.

One of my teachers kept going outside to see if he could see the smoke from New York, even though we were 2 hours outside the city.

Walking home from the bus stop was so weird. The roads were completely empty, the streets were absolutely silent and it was such a beautiful day.

Arthur and Janet were living in Wyoming at the time and were on the phone with my parents when I got home, Arthur wanting our parents to send me to him there.

Watching the news was so strange: watching the towers fall over and over and over and over again, hearing the people scream and curse and the newscasters apologize for the language in the video but basically saying "We really don't give a fuck about that right now."

Living through that day, I think, permanently breaks a part of your heart. Part of me cries and aches for every person lost or hurt because of that day or the aftermath.

People don't have to say "Never Forget". You can't forget. There's no chance of ever forgetting. We should be saying "Tell Your Story". Tell your part. Somehow. Leave your story in the comments or just leave a link to your story. Remember the hugs you got, remember how close we all were that day, and how caring.

United we stand, and God bless America.

Pre-Aftermath & Spoons

Apologies about the lack of posting, it's been a rough couple of days.

Janet and Arthur only ended up spending a couple of hours without power, but Mick and Debra lost power Saturday night and it hasn't come back on yet. They've been staying with Deb's mother, but they're coming here for dinner tonight.

My street experienced the worst flooding its had in at least 40 years, the water was waist-deep in some areas, I have pictures and will do a whole post on it later, but not today, I'll explain in a minute. We never lost power, and truthfully, the wind was at its worst on Sunday after the storm had already passed.

From the sound of it, Gayle and Mr. Yikes made out better than even we did.

As to why the real aftermath post will be later, I'm in a great deal of pain. 10 being excruciating, 0 being no pain at all, yesterday was an 8 and I ended up taking a Vicodin and spent the day slipping in and out of sleep. The pain's only a five/six today, but with Mick and Deb and Manny coming I need to hang on to as many spoons as I can.

This is the Spoon Theory and it sums up life with a chronic illness absolutely perfectly. 


Mick, Deb, and Manny are here, gotta go. Wish me luck.

Category 1 Saturday Summary

Category 1: It's just raining here in Jersey, still, things won't start to get interesting for a few hours, yet. Arthur and Janet live in Maryland, between the ocean and bay, so we're pretty nervous about them but we've been in touch throughout the day and they're just getting wind and rain so far. Gayle lives in an area that has been evacuated, but she says as far as she knows nobody's been leaving...Mr. Yikes, the father of the man I was named after (The Name of a Hero) lives in another evacuated county three blocks from the ocean and like, 1.5 from the bay and he's refusing to leave.

Lots of reason to be nervous. Especially since I heard the wind and rain pick up as I typed this. Again, no knowing when the next post will be as New Jersey has already been designated a federal disaster area before the storm even got here, and massive and long power outages are likely. Nothing to do but wait.

And take pictures. I just started documenting now as the wind is starting to get stronger and gusty. (4:30 pm, Eastern)

--


Nostalgia Gone Wrong: Have you ever seen those old timey newspapers you can get printed for, generally, older people? Well, old-timey as in they're the person's actual birthdate's local newspaper? I saw an older gentleman reading one the day I went to visit Gayle. He was sitting in front of me so I was reading the reflection of it in the window from my seat. I like doing that. Anyway, I thought it was weird, because it's not like they remember anything from then, it's not like they can be nostalgic, remembering when that story about the bank robbers was a big deal because they were too busy being born that day to look at the paper. Maybe if they got copies from like, their 5th birthday or something, it might spark some memories.

Like, I remember clearly that Operation Desert Storm started on my 3rd birthday, January 16, 1991, because we were having my party in the kitchen and my mother yelled at my father because he was watching TV instead of joining the party. And I remember the TV was all in shades of green because they were showing night-vision footage, so for me that newspaper, or even the day after, would be a memory for me. You know, people dying and stuff.

--

Intelligent Design: Returning S&O fans will notice some changes in the comments and that the background no longer looks like the childhood bedroom of Jackson Pollock's daughter.

It turns out that Blogger/Blogspot's commenting system seriously sucks. Comments aren't threaded or threadable and difficult to manage, so I switched to DISQUS commenting which looks a lot better now that the bugs are straightened out, like when the comments' font color was automatically set to the background color, rendering the comment itself invisible and the thing wouldn't let me change it. Tyler at DISQUS is awesome and I'm thankful for his help straightening all this out.

And yes, the background is much more sedate and not so vomit-y. I'm still struggling with the header, though, it and I are having it out. I'll win. Eventually.

--

Intel Inside: Have you seen those Windows commercials where they're like, "Susan doesn't think she needs to update her 4 year old computer, so we built a PC store in her house!"

Seamus here, my laptop, is 5 years old and still as awesome as they day I got it. Yeah, people need to update, but don't be silly with this every couple years crap. You don't fool me for a second.

(Think it worked?)

--

Mad Me: Talking about popcorn again.

I think Orville Redenbacher is missing out on a major selling point of their pop-up bowl idea. It's really convenient and I enjoy them and use them, but they're not telling people the hands-down best part of the whole deal.

The top and bottom panels of the bowl are transparent. You can actually watch the popcorn popping when it's in the microwave instead of just on slow-motion YouTube videos. How do you not mention that to people? "Not only does the bag turn into a bowl, but you get to watch your popcorn actually popping!"

I should go into advertising.

--

The wind and rain have died down again. (5:00 pm, Eastern)

--

Corporate Slime: They're seriously making a Charlie's Angel's TV show. A new one, I mean. Why? For the life of me I can't figure it out. I can't understand why executives, because that's who I blame, do these things. What does this say about us? No wonder the world thinks America has no culture of its own, it can't stop copying off itself for two minutes. The best revamp so far is the latest Star Trek movie, but damnit, that's even more of a continuation than anything else...

I know for a fact there are people with legitimately original ideas in the world, in this country. I have to put my faith in the fact that art will find its way through the muck but...it's still a depressing state of things. (Point Blanc)

--

Not Depressing: Another from the wonder that is mental_floss: Pygmy Shetland Ponies!!!

--

( 5:30 pm, Eastern) Arthur and Janet lost power.

--

A Little Project Runway: And I wanted drama! Holy crap. Ugly, ugly clothes and ugly, ugly people. I'm very disappointed that Josh turned out to be such a douche, I was beginning to really like him.

--

Clever Girl: Disney is re-releasing The Lion King in 3D for a couple of weeks, which is such a great idea for them. Take a classic, a movie people love, and put it in a format that people hate so you know for sure it's the format of the movie people don't like instead of it possibly being just the movie itself. Clever. Problem is it's still not going to go well, because even if people liked those stupid glasses or things cheesily popping in your face like Star Tours or Muppet*Vision 4D, it's waaaay too expensive now.

It's a valiant effort, though, Disney.

--

Last Complaint: Anyone else notice the trends on the Food Network anymore? Two in particular: lemon and panko breading. Yes, a little lemon can really brighten up a dish, and yes, panko breading is wonderfully crunchy-- but holy crap, they're putting whole lemons into every single recipe anymore. It's just too, too much.

And I do enjoy panko breading from time to time, but let's be honest, it cuts your mouth like ground glass. Or Captain Crunch.

--

Upcoming Posts: Just "English Food I Miss" and Hurricane Irene pictures. Please feel free to send your own images and stories to plummyjo@gmail.com

Natural Disaster Rag

So, my first earthquake was awesome. Infinitely more so because there were no fatalities (reported so far)! Take that, Mother Nature.

I told my mother I was really glad the earthquake happened after my doctor's appointment. Imagine that PAP smear. Phew.

So yeah, survived an earthquake. I was sitting on my bed, eating lunch after getting home from my appointment when my bed started shaking a little. I thought, "No big deal, my dad is hammering something or they're packing up the car or my neighbors are doing something..." The first little bit wasn't bad. Two seconds after it stopped it came again, and I thought it was my dad again, but then a part of me thought it was a ghost.

In my defense I watch a lot of movies, and I'm 98% sure my house is haunted, and 100% sure my neighbor's side of our duplex is haunted.

But then I thought, if my dad is hammering something in the kitchen, directly under my room, why isn't there any sound? So I yell out, "What are you doing?!" A few seconds later my mother screamed up the stairs, "What are you doing?! Are you alright?!" So she thought it was me until she realized it wasn't. The house was still shaking as I got up to go downstairs.

My dad gets home from work at about 1:30, so we were all home-- but nobody else on our street was! We thought we were crazy at first, but then my mother decided to call the police and got a busy signal-- so we were glad it wasn't just us.

My cell phone service was interrupted for a little bit, but once it got back there was a flurry of texts-- most people enjoyed it and everything was fine. Herbert said we should have earthquakes more often, and I quite agree.


Eagle-eyed readers will say, "What were her parents packing?" I thought they were packing the car, as my brother Arthur and his wife Janet had rented a beach house in North Carolina for this week and my parents were driving down to join them, stopping overnight in Maryland, and getting to NC Wednesday.

But the Outer Banks of NC, where they were going, are beginning evacuation at 5 am Thursday morning because Hurricane Irene will be hitting Saturday.

S&O has become a natural disaster blog: earthquakes, hurricanes, and hobo weddings.

So my parents have decided not to go. I was so looking forward to my time alone...running errands, cooking tasty food (meat and vegetables were going to touch each other!) and baking tasty treats (homemade cinnamon rolls...)...it was going to be fun. Oh, well.


Now to the original purpose of this post: the GYN appointment.

My mother said before I went in that it was like going to the dentist. And she was right, in a weird way...there's really nothing else that compares to it like going to the dentist. It's awkward, it's uncomfortable, you're laying down...but it's not as devastatingly awful as I thought it would be, and over much, much faster than I would have thought.

Seeing the various absorbent coverings on the examination table made me realize that they've probably seen horrifying things and learned from experience-- and nothing horrifying was happening to me externally, so damn. It can't be that bad.

And it wasn't.

Do I have a diagnosis? Of course not. I need many, many more tests before that happens. What comes next is an ultrasound so...that's what I'm doing next. My dad was like, "What do you mean nothing's wrong?" so I had to explain to my father that my problems are deeply internal and not externally visible. "OH, got it." Yeah.

Did he give me pain meds? No. Jerk. He said he doesn't like treating until he knows what's wrong. Clearly he doesn't know that I like punching when people are being toolbags.

So, that was the deal for today. Hope yours was as interesting as mine.

Nephew Talk

Nephew Time, Part I: The Storm


I can explain a bit about the crazy family thing that's been going on, finally. 


Debra had been babysitting a little boy named Keiran, who's 18 months younger than Manny, for about two years, since Keiran's aunt, Aunt Em, gained custody of Keiran from his mother. A few weeks ago Keiran's Aunt Em decided to put him into pre-school, and something went down between Debbie and Aunt Em, but I'm not sure what. Whatever happened, it lead to Aunt Em writing Debbie an email saying that Deb was doing my nephew a disservice by not getting him tested for Asperger syndrome or autism. Debbie went to her family and they were all, "Where would she get that idea?!"


A week or so later (July 28, Storm's Brewing) Debbie dropped off Manny at our house so Deb could go to the doctor, and when Debbie explained to my mother about the email the look on my mother's face said it all. We'd known for a little while but my dad wouldn't let us say anything because we didn't know how Mick and Debbie would take it.  I wish it had gone better than it did, but things are clearing up now. 


Manny's going to be starting school in September just to see how it goes, and while Debbie found a Behavior/Neurodevelopment Specialist she likes (that ended up on the phone with her for 2 hours exchanging information and videos), but there's a 3-4 month waiting period for new patients, and that's kind of rough, but there's really nothing else to do. Debbie showed the therapist a video of Manny and the therapist said it was an absolutely textbook case, but he does need to be formally assessed to find where he exactly he falls on the autism/Asperger's scale so they can figure out a treatment plan for him. 


The current family motto is "One day at a time." 


Also, "Pour me another glass of wine, would you?" 


--


The other nephew I haven't talked about yet, but he did something incredibly cute today and I wanted to brag. Mick is actually the younger of my 2 older brothers, but Manny is older than Arthur's son, Sean. Manny will be 5 on Thursday, and Sean will be 2 in October. 


Arthur's wife's name is Janet. Caught up? Good. 


Arthur and Janet decided to try baby sign language with Sean and it's pretty much the greatest thing ever- Sean makes a fist repeatedly when he's hungry, and waves "bye-bye" if he doesn't want something (it started off as being "all done" when he was eating, but it also became "no more" or "stop" when he doesn't like something or something scares him). They recently expanded this to include "tired" or "sleepy" by putting their hands to their forehead when it was Sean's nap time or bedtime. So today my brother was working on the computer and Sean went over to him, made the sign for "tired" and took my brother's hand. Arthur asked if Sean wanted to take a nap, and Sean said yes, then led my brother to his bedroom, picked up his blankie and stood by his crib to be put in. Isn't that adorable?


I've decided to try to end on a positive note more often. And be sure to check out Blanc's Tumblr here -- in addition to his supremely nerdy posts are some great and slightly less nerdy pieces he's written on stand-up comedy, voice acting, and...well...zombie movies. But they're still unique and interesting views on modern pop culture. 


Until next time.