Side Effects

I was serious about the upcoming posts in the last Saturday Summary, Speaking of Saturday Summary. I was. Still am, but this week has been wretched:

Monday I started a higher dosage of Lyrica: 200 mg twice a day, and I had a subbing job.

Tuesday I was pretty much dead to the world, I slept for most of the day, even somehow managing to answer my father when he told me that my mother was sick and needed to be taken care of because she had a high fever.

But I didn't find this out until much later.

My dad works from 4 until 8, so he came to my room around 3ish to tell me Mom was sick and I'd have to make dinner and whatnot. I don't remember this at all, but he said I answered him.

I woke up around 7:30 to discover my hands and feet, and nose were swollen to the point it was painful the way my skin was stretching to contain the whatever. I was scared, so I went downstairs to get my mother's opinion and found her laid out on the couch with two blankets, shivering. We were quite a pair.

Luckily, as I began to move around, getting food or whatever, it began to dissipate- but I left a message for Dr. S. anyway.

I was going to eat dinner in my room, so I left the phone next to my mother so she wouldn't have to get up to answer it. It rang, then, and it was my brother, Mick. My mother was reassuring him about something, and telling him that sometimes, at school, "these things happen." I knew then it had something to do with Manny, Mick's son, so I waited to find out what it was.

You would think that since the school got the news that Manny was diagnosed as autistic (1 in 110), and that his doctor recommended he have a full-time aide at school, that his teacher would keep an extra eye on him until the paperwork goes through.

Not the case.

When Debra brought Manny home from school she smelled something. She checked Manny out and found it: poop. On his hand. She asked him when he'd gone to the bathroom and he said snack time, which is 10 o'clock in the morning. He had poop on his hand all day.

I can't explain how upsetting this was. Yes, these things do sometimes happen, but in Manny's case there were three teachers in the room that know he needs special attention. If this could get through, what else could?

It's so scary, he's just a little boy. A little boy even more vulnerable than the average kindergartner. Regardless of his place on the autism spectrum, he's supposed to be safe at school. Yes, kids fall and break their arms on the playground, it happens, but this wasn't an injury.

It's been dealt with, though, and Manny's paperwork got an extra push through the system because of it.

Wednesday morning Dr. S.'s office called and told me to go back on the 150 mg dosage of Lyrica until my next appointment with him, which is at the end of this month-- which means yet another month of symptoms. Another month of this discomfort- the aches, the burning in my skin, the exhaustion...

I worked Thursday and Friday and have spent a grand total of 6 hours awake since I got home on Friday...well, plus 4 now, counting this morning. What am I going to do about getting a job? What if lightning strikes and I actually get a job before I see Dr. S. again?

My stomach is still killing me (Mystery Diagnosis and Other Medical Issues, Harry Potter and the Stomachache from Hell)...I just took a Vicodin so I need to wrap this post up before the tasty, tasty drugs start making me goofy. Dr. S. gave me the name of a new gynecologist, so I've got to make an appointment. Dr. S. said she's known for her laparoscopic skills, so we still might get a diagnosis of endometriosis. I'd be happy with any diagnosis, though, as long as the pain stops, with as few side effects as possible...I don't know if I can take any more.

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.

Sometimes Right

There's this hilarious site called Not Always Right and it features quotes from the customers of the world who...let's just say they're not always right.

Sometimes, though, sometimes the customer is right. Like today, when the GYN's office finally called.

Naturally, as with all phone calls you're waiting for (or I'm waiting for, anyway), I missed it. The voicemail said, "Hello, this is Dr. Tra-la-la's office and we have the results of your ultrasound. Please call us back as soon as possible at 555-GYNS", so I call right back.

Receptionist: Hello?

Me: Hi, the office just called me?

Receptionist: No.

No? No?! Really. Wow. That's amazing how the voicemail just magically appeared like that 30 seconds ago. Also...how rude!

Me:...uh...yeah, I received a voicemail saying my test results were available.

Receptionist: *annoyed sigh*

I'm so sorry for interrupting you from doing your job by asking you to do your job!

Receptionist: Who called you?

Me: They didn't say.

Receptionist: *clearly irritated* What's your name and who's your doctor?

Me: Plum Jo, I see Dr. Tra-la-la.

Receptionist: Hold.

It was like a command. I was ordered to hold. So held I did-- I'm nothing if not obedient. I held for 15 minutes.

After those 15 minutes a much nicer receptionist told me my ultrasound results were normal (Yay, I think...), but that my primary doctor hadn't sent my most recent blood test results, so we can't do anything yet. Once the doctor gets the blood test results he'll call back with the next step.

THESE PEOPLE CLEARLY DON'T REALIZE THAT THE PAIN IS COMING.

So I called my old primary doctor's office (I'm still in the process of switching GPs as the first appointment with my new one is the 28th.) and left a message for them to send over the results ASAP. Why did I leave a message? Because the records/referrals lady only works until noon.

What the crap is that? People have to wait a whole extra day if they can only make the call during their lunch break? Or if another doctor gets back to you after 12? Harsh.

And as for jerky receptionist up there, it's your job to talk to people and be pleasant. I'm pretty sure this was the same jerky receptionist that, before my first appointment (Natural Disaster Rag), had me announce all of my personal information in front of the entire waiting room. Like name, birthday, social security number, that kind of thing. You know, the kind of stuff that an identity thief is just praying to hear, and the kind of thing you fill out on those new patient forms so she was about to get all that information on paper in front of her anyway.

She also kind of looks like my bitchy aunt.

But lucky(?) for me my credit is in such poor standing that an identity thief would get laughed at if he tried to take out a credit card or something in my name.

Not even kidding, the interest rate on my credit card is 29%. My dad said he's going to close the account to see if he can negotiate a lower rate since technically it's his card, too. Jesus, I hope he can...I'd really like to be able to afford to move out some time before I'm 30. That'd be nice.

Sickness has unfortunately pushed back some pending posts...I don't know why I even bother teasing them anymore, they still never get out in a timely fashion. I'll work on that. Probably tomorrow...

Saturday Summary Plus 8

-10: The end of an era: (Jon and) Kate Plus 8 aired its series finale this week. It was interesting to look back and remember what the show was like before Kate became unbearable and the whole thing became awkward and contrived. I wish they hadn't sold out like they did, what made the show special in the first place was that it was real.

It takes a strong, strong person not to change under those circumstances, though. I like to think I'd be able to maintain my sense of self with people throwing hundreds of thousands of dollars at me but of course there's no way of knowing.

Those poor kids. At least with Jon around Kate's...self...was diluted by some kind of sanity, but now it's just them and her. I don't envy them even a little.

--

+ 20: A new feature I'm thinking of starting is actor analyses; articles detailing the careers of actors and actresses, strengths and weaknesses, upcoming projects, whatnot...I'm excited about it. Blanc and I are going to talk about our joint movie reviews on Monday, so once we get that figured out we'll have that going, too.

--

Still: Jobs for Smart People-- Anyone? Anyone? Why am I getting so much traffic from such a random, unrelated place? Not that I'm complaining, just curious.

--

Gaaaah: My GYN still hasn't called. Frick. Now what? Do I call him Monday? Or wait? This is such unnecessary stress...I mean, does he think the ultrasound cured something? Like, "Oh, the ultrasound is clean, no big deal." Frick again.

--

Dusk: Alright, look. I'm not going to lie to you, I do enjoy a little Twilight. It all started when Robert Pattinson jumped out of that tree in the fourth Harry Potter movie, you know? He's a handsome boy. The first movie was a couple months from coming out and I knew Robert Pattinson had been cast as this Edward there'd been so much talk about, so I was curious what the deal was. I mean, there had been a big to-do about the Harry Potter books that I ignored and would come to regret having done, so why not? Plus Gayle said she liked them and they were worth giving a shot.

So I did. No, they're not great triumphs of literature, but they're entertaining enough...beach reads, you could say. In fact, one of my first ideas for the other blog I've been playing with (but haven't launched...I'll let you know) was rewriting Twilight to make it suck less-- but the Twilight camp is really, really serious about suing people and I don't want to be sued. I'd've been doing it as a parody and critique but it'd be walking a very, very fine line of fair use and...I really don't want to be sued.

That being said the movies are amusing as well, Robert is still handsome, and the soundtracks are about the closest I get to modern music anymore. Debra enjoyed the books so we see the movies together. Breaking Dawn was my favorite of the books, so I'm looking forward to seeing the movie-- especially since the trailer just came out.

And it looks alright, much better than the others so far. How fantastically busted do they make Kristen Stewart look? Holy crap. It's worth it just for that.

Yeah, not a fan of hers.

--

The Final Frontier: Is it just me or has NASA been discovering stuff all over the place all of a sudden? I mean, I've widened the parameters of my StumbleUpon preferences, so maybe I just haven't noticed it before, but it just seems like as soon as they ended the space missions they're discovering stuff left and right. Planets similar distances from their star as we are to ours (superearths), water, even a planet with two suns like Tatooine!

I want us to find life elsewhere so badly. I really do. Just to know what their lives are like...it's so exciting.

--

I've Been a Bad, Bad Girl: I've managed to rack up $10 in library fines. Oops.

--

Back to the Future: You know how we look at old-timey ads now and we're like, "Geez, people were stupid! They took cocaine for toothaches!" or whatever? 50 years from now people are going to look back and wonder why we're so obsessed with colon health. Probiotics, regulatory yogurt, pills, powders, candies...we're going to look ridiculous. If you're so worried get a magnesium supplement.

--

On that note...upcoming posts include: Helen Keller, Fight Club and Self Injury (for real!), and Badass Catholic Grandmothers.

Another Day in Hell

The past few days have been brutal, and as such I'm terrified of the pain that's coming...since this thing changes with my cycle I know I've got a little over a week before it becomes excruciating again and there's nothing I can do about it...from now til then the discomfort's going to grow incrementally until the day comes when it's unbearable. Considering that it's been getting worse with every month that goes by and last month it was so bad I cried I'm really, really scared of what's coming.

I haven't heard from the GYN about my ultrasound results. Chances are that since the CT scan didn't show anything that the ultrasound won't show anything either, but it's still nerve-wracking-- especially since they wouldn't let me see the images during the test so I don't know what the doctor is looking at, I can't be sure there's nothing.

I keep going over the CT images, making sure there isn't anything that the doctors might have missed being too focused on my stomach and intestines, any blip of anything, but there's nothing there.

So then I think maybe the ultrasound got a different angle or something...but if there was a cyst or tumor the doctor would have called right away...but maybe he hasn't even seen it yet?

So then what's next after that? An MRI? Surgery is coming as long as these things keep coming up negative.

I don't know what to do. Do I keep applying for jobs? What if I get one? Can I handle it? How can I be reliable when I know I've got semi-random crippling pain several days a month?

So if I can't work, then what? Disability? That's barely enough to live on...how would I pay my bills? Medical, credit card?

And if I went on disability, would I still be able to write? Like if I open the new blog with ads, or by some miracle I get an agent interested in me?

I'm stressing myself out now. I'm going to go knit and pretend that I'm normal.

Busy Busy Saturday Summary

The past couple of days have been crazy busy for me, sorry about that, not neglecting you.

Thursday was my ultrasound. So here's

Ultrasounding Off: So what with the possible endometriosis, I had a pelvic ultrasound ordered by the GYN. Genius idea, really, when someone is having lower abdominal pain, let's take a stick and jab it around those places that hurt. The conversation between me and the technician went like this

Me: *flinch*

Tech: Are you okay?

Me: Mm-hmm!

...

Me: *flinch*

Tech: Are you okay?

Me: Mm-hmm!

Repeat that 7 or 8 times. I had to keep saying "Mm-hmm" because it hurt too much to talk. And you know what else sucks about those things? The technician isn't allowed to tell you anything. And they won't let you see the screen. So you could have massive tumors hanging off your internal organs, but they can't say anything. Like when I broke my leg (Spaz Girl Walking), I asked the nurse taking my X-rays and she couldn't tell me. She did make a face, though, so I knew, but really. You're scared and in pain, knowing is infinitely better than knowing something's wrong but not knowing what.

--

Friday: I overslept like, 5 hours for going on errands with my mom, but the more pressing matter was a phone call from Debra. It's sad, but I predicted this: Manny isn't doing well in school. I'm no expert, but I'd say his social, life, and motor skills put him at about age 3. I know it's hard to think of 5 year olds as being self-sufficient, but they do need to be (to an extent) in order to be able to handle school.

They need to be able to feed themselves, they need to be able to follow a set of directions, they need to be able to go to the bathroom alone. Manny's having trouble with these things. He's also getting in trouble because he gets frustrated very easily (common with autism) when he has trouble with things. My poor boy, I wish I could hug him. Maybe I can talk my mom into visiting tomorrow.

I also made killer cinnamon rolls last night. Found the recipe here at Whipped the Blog's Ultimate Cinnamon Rolls. Incredible. They were delicious, and I managed to make them without brown sugar (I substituted white) and vanilla (I substituted nothing). I can't imagine how good they're going to be when I'm able to make them for real because these were awesome. And pretty easy, too.

Oh, and my two cents, when you're cutting the individual rolls off the log it's way easier to use the thread than it is a knife.

--

Today: Today I got to hang out with one of my best friends from high school, Linus. Aaaah, Linus is awesome. We had a long talk about relationships and work and family...it was great.

I also picked up a study book for the GREs. Holy crap, I'm going to fail, I'm going to fail so hard. I've got the language part, that'll be fine, but oh, man. The math? Not good, not good at all. Flipping through the book I saw triangles. TRIANGLES. I know the area of a triangle is one half times base times height, but that's all I remember about triangles. Crap.

At least I have the book...

--

Upcoming Posts: Movies based on books has been postponed as Blanc came up with a great idea for tandem movie reviews so we're going to talk about that. The Fight Club & Self Injury post is still coming, I just need to feel good about the final draft. Tomorrow will be the obligatory September 11th post, of course. Also definitely coming is a review of Bridget Jones' Diary, the novel, and I might have a substituting job this week and those are always entertaining.

Stay tuned, it should be a good week.

What Kind of Day Has it Been?

I love days like these...rainy, nothing to do, nowhere to go days. Tomorrow I should probably do a few productive things (defer student loans...order GRE study book...make doctor's appointment...work on room reorganization...shark substitute assignments online...), but not today.

I miss having days like this in college...the girls and I would drink coffee and play games. Those are the days I miss most. It's what we did when Gayle threw that party for Lisa a few weeks ago and it was the happiest I'd been in a long time.

Today was Manny's first day of school, hard as it is to believe. I got a little teary over the picture of him wearing a backpack and holding a lunchbox Mick posted on Facebook this morning. My mother was there when he got home from school...she said he was as unfazed about it as he is about everything...and he's been placed in a classroom with other special needs kids, with two teachers and an aide, but I'm still worried-- we don't know what Manny's place on the autism spectrum is and whether the school is equipped to deal with it. The whole deal is frazzling my nerves.

I've been distracting myself with Regretsy and Facebook games...A&E On Demand...and setting up another blog to publish a trashy novel I've been playing with off and on for a few years-- then maybe others, I don't know, I'll have to see how the first one does if I ever get around to biting the bullet about it. In the meantime I'm going to play with the design templates and ponder about whether to write one or two stand-alone "About" pages.

I'm watching Intervention and this 30 year old girl is sleeping with a 75 year old man that pays for her drugs. Umm...I can deal with that if somebody would pay my bills. How often can a seventy-five year old want it? Damn. Well...what, 68, technically, in my case? Shoot. Steve Martin's 66 and I'd totally hit that. Kevin Kline's 64. I'm game.

Old, wealthy men: pay my bills and I'll seriously consider dating you. Cute, old, wealthy men: pay my bills and I will probably date you. Cute, wealthy men: pay my bills and I will definitely date you.

Just putting it out there. Like that challenge to Microsoft that my 5 year old computer is waaaay better than anything new coming out now. Seamus the Lappy forever.

Today's pain has gotten harder to deal with as the day has gone on...I've got an ultrasound coming up on Thursday. I'd tell you to cross your fingers for me, but I don't know what to hope for. Especially since I don't understand what an ultrasound could see that a CT scan couldn't. If I've already had a more detailed test for the same person, why order the weaker test? Part of me just wants them to cut me open already and dig around to find out what's going on...be sure, whichever doctor I see first (my GYN or new GP), I'm getting painkillers at my next appointment. Be. Sure. I'm not going through another cycle of this pain, I'm not. I don't care what it takes.

And poor Herbert's so sick and nobody knows what to do with him...

Tension headache. Hahaha, this was supposed to be a relaxing post-- what happened?!

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.

Just Keep Swimming, Just Keep Swimming

I make it a point to be as honest as I can on here because if I'm going to lie I might as well not post...it doesn't do anything to help me and it certainly won't help anybody else who could be going through the same thing, for sure.

So here it is: I'm a 23 year old virgin that's having her first gynecologist appointment tomorrow to see if the symptoms I'm experiencing are due to endometriosis. And I'm freaking terrified.

I'm kind of glad for my stomachache today. It's not bad, but it's a reminder that it's a problem and that next week or so it'll be much, much worse, and that's why I'm doing this. It's why I have to go. I have to find out what this is and get it treated, if only so I can wear my clothes again.

Wear my clothes again? Yeah, wear my clothes again. My abdomen is so distended none of my pants fit because they're too tight in the waist, and none of my shirts fit because they don't go over my 5 months pregnant looking belly. Clothes that fit well enough 20 pounds ago don't anymore.

I'm doing my best to get ready, but there's so much to keep track of: different symptoms, different dates, different appointments, different medications, different procedures...I mean, I started noticing something was weird in February-- it's a lot to keep track of.

And I know the anticipation is much worse than anything that's going to happen tomorrow, but goodness knows that knowing that doesn't mean a thing in terms of anxiety. The nurses that take my blood pressure always comment on how fast my pulse is...I tell them it's because I never got good news in a doctor's office. They laugh, but it's true.

In fact, it's one of the reasons I took so long about getting to the GYN-- it was the one thing that never had any problems. Never a yeast, urinary tract or bladder infection, I'm not sexually active, my periods (were) light and regular with very little cramping (I'd just be really hungry), and there's no history of any kind of gynecological disorders in my family. So why go?

You know how nervous I am? I involuntarily shuddered earlier. Like an actual shudder.

I'm going to have a cup of tea...I need to relax.

Maybe I'll have a glass of wine with breakfast. I mean, really, it's just grape juice...

Living on a Prayer

I have a weird sleep schedule. I suspect my days and nights are flipped as the most natural thing for me to do is sleep all day and stay up all night. I fight against this so I end up going to bed around 3ish and sleeping until noonish, so I end up showering around 1 or 2 in the morning. 

My parents sleep with the door open (don't get me started) and our bedroom doors are separated by a 2 square foot bit of carpet at the top of the stairs. The main part of our house, our bedrooms and the living room and kitchen beneath them are over 100 years old and were part of a farmhouse before the area was made residential. People that have been in my house would think this is weird considering that my house, along with a few other houses both on my street and in the surrounding area, is a duplex. The interesting thing about that is that all of the other duplexes are laid out exactly the same way, exactly the same as my neighbor's side of our house and Herbert's a few blocks away: a basement, 3 rooms downstairs, 2 upstairs with an upstairs bathroom, and an attic. 

But my house isn't laid out that way, and it's the only one not-- so basically things were built up and around these four little rooms. The point I'm trying to make is my house is old, and the stairs between my bedroom and my parents bedroom are old and creaky, and I have to go down them to get to the bathroom because our bathroom is tacked on to back end of the downstairs because our house was built without a bathroom. That's how old it is. 

So the point I'm trying to get at is I often wake my parents on my way downstairs to shower, so it's not unusual that I wake them, then they have to use the bathroom because they're really old and always have to go to the bathroom (Hi, Mom!). 

The other night this happened, so I wasn't surprised to see my mother in our living room on my way back upstairs after my shower. I was surprised she didn't need the bathroom...and I was even more surprised that she was crying. 

Like so many others, we're struggling right now, financially. We're only getting a fraction of what we should be because my father was forced out of a job when he retired from his union and they threatened to take away his pension and benefits if he took a position having anything to do with plumbing-- which is ridiculous and illegal and we can't afford to press charges. I'm not going to go into the levels of sick there. 

So now we're trying to find me a gynecologist, but since New Jersey raised the doctors' malpractice insurance rates to the highest in the country a lot of specialists left the state, so only the really wealthy could afford to stay, which means they're all at least twenty minutes away in the "old money" section of the state or in Pennsylvania- so I can't find a male gynecologist within a half-hour of my house that takes our insurance. Yes, male. I'll post about female doctors one day, but not today. 

And I have to leave my regular doctor. I stopped seeing a pediatrician when I was 6 when he almost killed my brother Mick. So I started seeing our family doctor, so now it's been-- what, 17 years? But my insurance no longer takes out-of-network doctors so I have to leave him. There aren't any in-network doctors nearby, so we have to go to an out-of-network doctor that at one time was a business partner of my now-ex doctor but they split up their practice after they got caught taking bribes from a  lab to only use that particular lab and then not claiming it on their taxes. So they broke apart the practice. Anyway, so we have to go to the other guy, but he charges 3 times his usual rate for the first appointment and we all need to go see him because our prescriptions are no good because they were written by the other doctor, so no longer covered so we'd have to pay full price for them. 

Full price for prescriptions. To put this into perspective, I take 11 pills every morning, and 11 pills every night. 

That's 77 pills a week. My stomach medicine alone, with insurance, is $50. Without insurance? $1500. 

The good news is if I do have endometriosis (that's the good news!!) I can stop taking those and go on a cheaper stomach pill-- but I'm going to need more medicine for the endometriosis. 

So you see why my mother was crying?  And why our family's theme song is "Living on a Prayer"?

God, I need a job.