A Basket For My Case

Fail-o-rama and a Blind Date

2011-04-04T14:21:00.000-07:00

So much for posting daily. Sitting down and writing out a coherent thought was a little bit beyond me the last few days.

We've been taking a crash course in learning to read Hebrew. Learning to read a language without really understanding it is something that has always baffled me and is why I got kicked out of Hebrew School when I was a kid. So in class on Sunday the teacher got to the letter that makes a "P" sound. As she went though reading it with the various vowel sounds and got to "oo" husband and I were compelled to look at each other and simultaneously say "She said 'poo'" and then we both were failing miserably at not giggling madly. Yup, we're soul mates.

In other news: It's probably time to watch an episode of Hoarders again and get inspired to get rid of more stuff. We live in a two bedroom place, but it's itty bitty. We had intended that the second bedroom would be a craft/hobby room for both of us. We now call it "The Crap Room". There is so much stuff in there that neither one of us like to go in there anymore.

Too much of what I have is just taking up space. I need to say: "I'm not ever going to get to this," and send it out into the world to fend for itself. What hangs me up is the variety of people who then tell me "...you should sell that on (insert name of your favorite internet shopping site)". I am NOT fond of the main internet selling crap place. And while I like etsy.com I still have to take and post pictures. Every time this happens I start to think... maybe I should try to sell this stuff, we could use the money. And then nothing happens for another three months.

Saw a new doctor. Meeting a new doctor always feels like I'm going on a blind date. You hope that the person you're meeting is friendly, has a sense of humor, is smart, doesn't act like a pompous jerk and is interested in what you have to say. I now force my husband to come along like a chaperone. This really cuts down on the abusive behavior of the assholes... although we've met some real class A jerks.

This date went pretty well and I guess I'm gonna be seeing this M.D. a few more times in the near future and I'm ardently hoping that we don't get to the "there's something wrong but I don't know what to do for you" place.

Does this count?

2011-03-30T20:01:00.000-07:00

I said that I wanted to start posting daily. So I guess I better do this before I forget again.

Today I was reminded of how mean and nasty some people are and how they can rationalize their narrow-mindedness and unkind treatment of other human beings as righteous behavior. There are so many people in this world that are just unable to show a shred of humanity to those that need it the most, and then they claim that this is okay because the people they're debasing are somehow the dregs of society.

Maybe, just maybe... if someone bothered to respect their humanity they might have a chance.

Second Verse Same as the First

2011-03-29T13:31:00.000-07:00

Really overdue to update this thing... I think I will challenge myself to post every day until my next surgery is scheduled.

Yesterday I went to meet a new (to me) endocrinologist. I'm hoping that she will be someone good to work with. She listened, was baffled by my need to avoid things that would prevent me from getting a diagnosis but make me feel better, and was still willing to go forward for now. She ordered a lot of labs and as soon as I get those done I'll make my next appointment with her.

As things stand right now we're moving forward to another pituitary surgery. It's really the only option that I have unless I want to go on with the way things are. I'm looking into seeing if I can get a doctor to do some additional labs that are really only for research purposes but might answer some questions that have no answer right now. Of course there's always the chance that it will just confuse everything more. Yay me.

Next up is this test that is kind of like an angiogram but not at all like an angiogram. They'll insert catheters into my femoral vein at the groin on both sides and thread those catheters up to an area behind my eyes called the inferior petrosal sinuses. If you're bored or really interested you can read more about it here: BIPSS

The last time I had this done the radiologist was not very experienced (the word liar comes to mind) and he was very irresponsible with the amount of radiation I was exposed to. I experienced mild radiation burns in two areas and my hair fell out. The doctor that will be doing it this time has more experience. He also nearly jumped out of his chair when I told him how much "focused fluoroscopy time" I was exposed to. It was nice to see someone not try to pretend that something I knew was ill-advised was okay.

In the meantime the next thing I'm to do is see a cardiologist because my blood pressures have been doing some disconcerting things of late... on top of the chest pains and feelings of irregular heart beats that I've been trying to ignore for years now because the problems are intermittent and previously they were unable to find a cause.

And today... the hot water heater quit. So we'll be dining out (yay! no dishes to wash!) until that fixed and going to the gym to take showers I guess... I mean, who needs a shower? Microwave sponge baths!

Coughing Heads

2010-11-07T20:28:00.000-08:00

Would that I had something other to talk about... but having been sick for over a month now, I've got nothing. Well, I have an appointment with a pulmonologist mid-week. So I expect to be better by then.

second verse, same as the first

2010-11-02T20:26:00.000-07:00

I've been sick with some evil bacteria or virus since Oct. 5th. We've tried it evict it with antibiotics and steroids, I fucking hate steroids. Did I mention that I hate taking steroids? Because I do. They make The Crayzee, that I sometimes have to drag out back and chain to the tree, look domesticated.

Steroids make me bat-shit-crayzee. They put me on an emotional ride that I do. Not. Want. Also, they make my husband even more miserable because he's the one that has to deal with me and our home is too small and cluttered for either of us to really get away from the other. Next time they try to give me steroids I'm going to insist that they also give me Xanax or something. Either that or I'm going on a strict margarita diet.

Tomorrow I see a M.D. again. At least she doesn't seem scared of me. That's always a plus. I don't know why I've been having all this trouble with breathing... I have gotten some better, but then it starts to come back and I'm just not getting enough oxygen.

I'll try to update this more often so you don't have to wonder if I've crawled off and died. I don't have any plans to in the near future... just so you know.

It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife

2010-05-12T13:28:00.000-07:00

The dog is sick, both birds are sick, I get to have an endometrial biopsy next week and I might have Lupus on top of whatever else is wrong but the rheumatologist says I have to wait a month to do more testing. We all need to come out of this okay. DO YOU HEAR ME UNIVERSE?! We're all gonna make it through this month or someone is going to pay.. of course it'll probably be me, paying the vet.

These Things Take Time

2010-05-06T09:35:00.000-07:00

A while back I decided it couldn't hurt if I saw a naturopath. I mean... after I declared myself willing to even try eating cow patties for a week if it would help, I thought maybe that wasn't so far off. So I'm supposed to take a host of expensive vitamins (which I sometimes forget) and drink a shake thingy twice a day (which I'm often too tired to make) and eliminate gluten and cows milk from my diet.

It hasn't been as hard as you might think. God bless Trader Joe's for having lots of gluten free foods as well as lots of things made from goat or sheep milk. I really don't think I could live without cheese. Cheese is like a metaphor for life dood.

So, it's like a month later and I have no idea if this is helping me. But I just finished eating a late breakfast consisting of one hard boiled egg, 3 smallish Persian cucumbers, a tablespoon of real mayo from the aforementioned store, a shake of celery salt and a sprinkle of toasted sesame seeds. And now I'm either breaking out in hives on the right side of the roof of my mouth right behind my teeth, or immediately as I finished eating starting to develop the cold sore from hell.

Yay me. I guess I'll remember to take those vitamins today and have the shake, because if this keeps up eating anything else will just be painful. Follow up with Rheumatologist on Friday cannot come soon enough. I just pray that she's got an itty bitty idea of what might be going on with me.

Fedoras on the Freeway

2010-04-30T11:00:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed that old people wearing hats are like the worst drivers? I mean really the worst... and especially on the freeway. Somehow the bigger the hat (or the more like a fedora) the slower the driving.

That and little old ladies that drive with their nose less than 2 inches above the steering wheel... while hysterically funny to look at... ugh! You know what I'm talking about? You've seen her, she's got the seat as close as possible to the steering wheel. She's holding onto it with a death grip, she's got the left turn tick-tick on and she's driving in the far right lane. For the last quarter mile at least.

Never gonna stop the rain by complain'

2010-04-29T13:31:00.000-07:00

I've had so much of nothing going on lately that I haven't blogged at all. The dog got sick, my brother got sick, the little bird got sick and the big bird goes to the vet today. I'm working on another abscess in my mouth, have a sore INside my nose (ouch), continue to get tired without any great effort, and achy in all the wrong places.

This week I subjected myself to another "endiot" (endocrinologist who is an idiot). I was really hopeful that this one might be a good one. I swear, I think some of these doctors have gone to a CE seminar called "How to Tell an Unconvincing Lie: Inventive ways of telling a patient that you think they're stupid." So, this well educated physician would have me believe that in the last year I've suddenly become increasingly hypersensitive to testosterone (despite my having abnormally low levels). Naturally that is what is causing me to grow a lovely beard on one side of my chin/neck. In addition they would like me to accept that there are healthy pre-menopausal women who are even hyper-sexual with testosterone levels in the low single digits (normal levels for testosterone for women, while debated in many arenas, are soundly in the mid double digits).

I now realize my mistake... while I would rather avoid ever having to go to another endocrinologist if I can help it, I need to stfu and force them to talk more. I really dislike the arrogance of some doctors assuming that just because I have walked into their office that I want them to assume my care. I don't want to work with a doctor that doesn't run a patient centered practice, isn't willing to look in depth at the train-wreck that is my medical history, and seriously thinks that a 20 minute consult is sufficient for a new patient intake.

I'm borrowing an illustration from my friend Erella Ganon

I think that about covers it.

2010-03-25T15:02:00.000-07:00

I have a new friend... his name is Eustice.

I found Eustice languishing on the clearance table at a Tuesday Morning. His mate had been stolen. He had been marked down to $4.99 and was only too happy to come home with me.

He makes me smile, and in exchange I have been taking him on adventures!

He's met the famous knitter Nancy Bush and frolicked with her socks.

He's been to Trader Joe's for shopping...

...and has dined out with us quite a few times. Husband would rather not share his salad with Eustice but he's been a very good sport. I'm quite convinced that he regretted some of the choices he made at one of our favorite Vietnamese places.

we even had him with us for a check up at the doctor!

He's also very good company for me when I knit or sew. I even once found him snuggling with our dog...

I expect he'll be with me for a long time. As long as I can keep my husband from hiding him from me.

Count Rugen revisited

2010-01-31T11:31:00.000-08:00

January 27, 2010 was the one year anniversary of my attempt to have Count Rugen murdered.

I knew I had the right surgeon when I asked him if he was familiar with the movie The Princess Bride. He admitted to having seen it many times. He said not only would he say Inigo Monotoya's greeting for Count Rugen before starting surgery, he had the accent down pat!

The various medical residents, including one who was really from Spain, all reported to me in the days after the surgery that he really said the line before making the initial cut. With the accent. The operative report indicates that they scraped everything they found out. Not just once, but three times. And yet... it seems that he is not gone from my life completely.

Don't get me wrong; the last year has seen many improvements. But the the symptoms that persist sometimes really outweigh the improvements. And the mood swings can be awful. Yesterday I broke into tears because husband expressed a desire for a banana and I didn't have any in the house to give to him.

My next appointment with the neurosurgeon is tomorrow. I don't know what he plans to tell me. But, no matter what he says I have something that I want to try. It seems that L-lysine may have some affect on the ability of the adrenal cortex to produce cortisol in response to ACTH. I discovered this quite by accident. It seems that L-lysine has a half life of around 11 days and after 3 months of taking small amounts of it I not only was feeling better but saw some improvements in some of my lab work.

Like I've said before... I'm kinda using my pituitary gland (even if it is malfunctioning) and I'd prefer not to have half of it removed if I can avoid it.

In other news... I've been knitting gifts for family and friends. I hope to have more photos to post soon.

When This You See Remember Me

2009-11-11T12:44:00.000-08:00

We said goodbye to Molly on August 17, 2009. I still don’t have words for the giant hole in my heart.

After more than a year of fighting the congestive heart failure her kidneys failed. She was bright and loving us until the end. Euthanizing her was among the most difficult things we’ve ever done as a family. Lab values showed that she had no kidney function at all and her blood was full of toxins. Her last day alive was a misery of vomiting and diarrhea. I spent her last night on earth sleeping on the floor next to her so she wouldn't be alone.

But that’s not how I want to remember her… I want to remember her like this:

Molly was not a lap dog. But if you wanted to pet her... she was there to be petted. In fact, at times she demanded it. She would jump up next to you on the couch, reach out her paw and grab at your hand until you started petting her. We tried to break her of that habit and never did, we were somewhat successful at getting her to be more gentle about it... but she knew exactly what she was doing. Of course she wasn't above shoving her whole head under your hand.

She loved the sun and the wind and digging. But, more than anything, she loved people. And I love her like a sister, and miss her every day. I think we all do... even Merlin.

Well it's about damn time...

2009-11-09T11:20:00.000-08:00

So… yeah. It’s, um, nearly a year later, and *waves* Hi invisible friends... Thanks for still, um, being invisible and stuff, because I suck so much and have been missing for so long. It took a random stranger coming by and posting a comment asking if I was dead to get me to write to you. Sorry. But you deserve so much more than sorry… so here’s the best I can offer, an update with some pictures.

Pathetic sweater progress and also unfolded laundry. Yay me.

You see, first there was the surgery thing. That was January 27th. It sucked in all the ways that surgery should suck, and was not awesome enough because I was hoping to feel a lot better by now. They did find a tumor, on the outside of my pituitary gland. So they scraped it all off… the operative report describes it as being a “particularly pale soft cheese-like substance”. Not something you really want in your head anyway. Cheese. Ew.

So the pathology report confirms that it was a tumor. But it stained for a hormone that I never had an excess of. Not at all helpful to me in the long run, but why should it start being helpful now? The doctors tell me that these cells are often dual-producers and that prolactin (what it stained positive for) often goes with ACTH.

Since the surgery I’ve seen some improvements, but a lot of my old “symptoms” are coming back… including the fatigue. Without the miracle of long acting amphetamines I would never get anything done. Honest. And at times the crazy really takes me over. I try to keep it chained to a tree in the backyard, but I swear it’s got bolt cutters hidden out there somewhere.

Also, I’ve also discovered The Bloggess. Reading her blog and pretending that my life has moments equally as awesome as hers has been a lot easier than writing my own blog, and possibly more interesting. Thing is that since I’m not a crazy stalker, mostly, and she already IS her I should try come up with my own thing. Only I’m totally stealing the cussing. Because saying THE FUCK?! Often just really suits me right now.

Like for example: The last time my testosterone levels were checked they were only 6 points above qualifying for an NIH funded study about being deficient. However, my endocrinologist says this is okay because I’m not Middle Eastern. THE FUCK?!

I mean, I can’t say this TO HIM. But I hope I can tell you about it? In fact… I think I’m about ready to tell you all about how my current endocrinologist is driving me to want to drink. Only I’m too broke right now to afford anything GOOD to drink. So I’m sober. Which sucks even more. Someone send me a good bottle of wine.

In the meantime my secondary markers for growth hormone are getting lower all the time. They’re so low that they are appropriate for an 80 year-old but not this nearly 38 year-old. But my great endo doesn’t want to send me for a growth hormone stimulation test. Why? I don’t know. He just said “You don’t want to do that.” THE FUCK?! Uh, I think I’d rather do that than have another brain surgery!

Because that’s where things stand… in the absence of more changes maybe we do another surgery. And possibly cut out the entire right side of my pituitary gland. Which I think I’m currently using.

So, I’m writing my endo a “love letter” telling him how much I need him to stop wearing his ass as a hat and spend my insurance money! TEST ME DOOD BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE CRAP. Only I said it much nicer-like. And I didn’t write THE FUCK?! Not even once.

I’ll let you know what happens.

This is getting a little long so I’ll stop and save a thought to share with you later… midnight blood draws.

Curing Analysis Paralysis

2008-12-03T09:23:00.000-08:00

On Monday we went to meet with the Neurosurgeon. The doctor came in and asked for my decision. I told him that I had decided to put all my trust in him. I am going to take the chance that surgery is the right answer. Unfortunately I'm going to have to wait a while to get it. The end of January or early February.

We know that the chances of remission with one surgery are not high. Maybe around 40%. But this surgeon promises to stick with me. That we will do this together. That he will advocate for me. I am trusting him.

I am going to also take a chance on the endocrinologist that I did not feel so comfortable with. He at least admitted that he'd never treated anyone with cyclical Cushing's. He told me I would not get well WITHOUT surgery. I have an appointment to tell him that I'm going to reschedule the surgery. I'm not going to any appointments with him alone. I'm nervous but am going to talk to him about it. Maybe that will help.

There are a lot of risks... of course the worst thing that can happen is death. Okay... that's out of the way. Loss of pituitary function is a possibility. This will require hormone replacement, and the fun of trying to find the right doses but is treatable with medications for the most part.

Another risk is the development of a condition called Diabetes Insipidus (DI). This has nothing to do with the diabetes you have heard of. It is caused by damage or injury to the posterior portion of the pituitary and the result is that the kidneys will no longer concentrate urine. Again, there is medication to treat this. And it's usually temporary and often resolves over time.

There are lots of other things that might go wrong... leaks of spinal fluid (CSF), blood clots, bleeding, infection, I'm sure it's a longer list than that. Thing is, that Cushing's itself damages tissues and I think increases the chances of complications by virtue of that.

But for now... I am trying (HA!) not to think about it too much. I have to do this family cruise and get through the holidays.

Having fractured my wrist really is putting a dent in my knitting plans. Obviously this sweater is not going to be done in time to wear on the cruise unless I knit 24/7.

I'm still having a lot of pain. Not from the fracture but on the other side of the wrist. I'm worried that I tore something that is just going to take forever to heal. And be a literal pain in the meantime.

So, that's a lot of words to tell you not much... There's a television interview of my neurosurgeon floating around on the net and if I can figure out a way to embed it I will. OR you can wander over and see it here: Survive The Journey Blog on my friends blog. She's a tech and research maven.

There's probably something else I wanted to post about... but my memory is lousy again these days. Trying to get through the CEU's I need to maintain my RN license has been real work. I don't get upset about it anymore... it just frustrates and scares me. I've GOT to get well.

Duck... Duck... GOOSE!

2008-11-26T08:53:00.000-08:00

Well, here's a new experience! I've been tagged by a fellow blogger. One I'm not even sure I know, but that's hardly a reason not to play. Right?

So... NeedSleepy wants me to tell you, my imaginary friends, 8 random things about myself. Then I have to find 8 other bloggers to tag (that may be the hard part...)

Here goes nothing...

1. I have been to nearly all 50 states. When I was a kid my parents took us on at least two "cross-country trips". The first when my brother was just starting to walk and then second when he was a little older. I wish I remembered more about the trips, I only remember bits and pieces. Like being allowed to walk barefoot in a rose garden (oh yeah, that was a GREAT idea). Getting a drink from a stream somewhere. Staying at a motel with a playground that had dog poo in the sand. Eating at a restaurant where the menus were attacked to wavy sticks and could be used as fans. And an crocheted orange kangaroo hand puppet that I got as a reward for being good in the car.

2. I entertained the idea of becoming a Franciscan or Carmelite nun briefly while in High School. The idea of spending my life praying for peace appealed to me.

3. I am fascinated by body art. But I hate pain and don't like being on the functional end of needles. I also wonder about people who don't have health insurance but spend hundreds of dollars on ink and body modification.

4. I loved working as an RN in the ER... but my real dream is to work in emerging infectious disease research. People that know me don't believe that I really do not want to work in a situation where I have to interact with different people all the time.

5. From the time I was 2 or 3 until I was around 6 years old my best friend in the world was my next door neighbor, Robin Tomlin. She moved away around then and I cried and cried. I regret that we lost touch. I remember my Mother telling me that I would forget her as I bawled my eyes out when her family drove away for the last time. But I never have.

6. I love my brother. He's my favorite family member. But when we were kids he was totally evil. I used to beg my parents not to make me babysit him. We would fight and he would chase me around the house with butcher knives. Funny thing, he now has culinary arts training and is a great cook. Thank goodness he learned a productive way to wield a knife!

7. When I was in grade school my best friend was a black girl who lived in Watts. We would take turns having sleepovers at each others houses. One time we were walking to the 7-11 near where she lived and a grown woman walked up to me and spit on me for being white. She said horrible things to me. It's an experience I've never forgotten.

8. EIGHT! EIGHT! I FORGOT WHAT EIGHT WAS FOR! ...oh allright... bad Ami, I couldn't resist the femmes reference. But stheriously... I actually discussed, with the nurse that worked at my high school, my decision to have sex for the first time. Don't laugh, she was actually really cool! I had a lot of migraines in high school, and was in her office often to get my prescription Motrin. She asked me if I had a car would I loan my car to this guy for a whole weekend without knowing what he was doing. She asked me if I had researched birth control. She told me that I might regret the decision later when he broke my heart, but what I should really consider was how I would feel about it 20 years later. Would I be embarrassed about who I chose? I'm not, and I'm fond of the memories I have. Thanks Donna!

O.K. Now to Tag 8 others...

http://looking-for-angels.blogspot.com/

http://adayinthelifeofatrainwreck.blogspot.com/

http://www.bluepupae.com/blog/index.htm

http://survivethejourney.blogspot.com/

http://www.xanga.com/Littleoldladyinashoe

http://cushingshelp.blogspot.com/

http://vikingjenn.blogspot.com/

http://www.adhdknitting.com/blog/

OOOOOh! LOOK! A chicken!

2008-11-19T09:45:00.000-08:00

Time passes, things change.

Found out last night that Raul (see previous post about hat) no longer works at the pharmacy I use. I'm told they caught him stealing drugs. That surprised and saddened both of us. Especially after one night he he even talked to us about the fact that he would never do that. Then again, you can never know what someone is capable of until they do it.

Which brings me to Baby Girl... The Great State of California felt that her mother deserved a second chance (second?? I think we were up to somewhere around 7th chance at this point, but whatever crazy) at starving the child. So after excluding her husband (BG's Daddy) from the process they set up a "voluntary family maintenance plan" which involved Mom staying in a real emergency homeless shelter, rather than the catholic charity flop house she'd been staying at. From what I understood it did not require her to do anything else about the psychological illness that's causing her disordered behaviors.

Somehow the social workers completely missed the fact that what brought this child into the system (this time) was the fact that Mom's behavior had placed the child into such a state of malnutrition that she became chronically ill with a bacterial gastrointestinal infection that she should have been able to get over. Instead it required medical intervention, and that intervention only happened AFTER social services got involved because Mom refused to follow through with prescribed treatment.

As soon as the court social worker handed Mom the paperwork she got ugly with me. I refused to rise to her baiting me, and it culminated with her telling me to "Get the fuck out of my life." Oh-kay sweetheart. But by the way... I still needed to "return" Baby Girl to her. I refused to do it anywhere but at DCFS offices. She was positively spiteful... which was to be expected, I guess.

At any point I don't see a need to rehash it much more. There are conditional happy endings...

The top photo was taken before the hearing, the first day Dad has seen BG in over 3 months. He had just returned from the war in Iraq a few weeks beforehand. The second photo was taken just a few weeks ago. She's happy, growing and thriving. She's looking like a healthy baby and not a sickly infant.

I think one of the biggest milestones for her is that she's really letting Dad know when she's hungry. She was not doing at all when I first started caring for her, and was only beginning to do when she left our home.

How she came to be with Dad isn't the way I would have done things... but I have to admit that I'm okay with the end result. Still, I pray each day for her continued safety.

I also pray each day for her Mom. Who is out in the world doing God Only Knows What with God Only Knows Who. I suspect that she is also plotting a way to get Baby Girl back. Which is the main reason I pray for BG's safety. It's hard when you love someone that is on a path to their own destruction... but even harder when their actions are harming multiple others.

In the meantime my life goes on... The trip to NIH, while it produced some interesting lab work, was basically fruitless. When I returned my neurosurgeon said "Controversial diagnoses will remain controversial." He also warned me against what he called "analysis paralysis". I told him it was too late, I was already there.

After much discussion with family and introspection I have decided to take a chance on surgery. Four years is too long to have my life on hold. Yesterday was my 37th birthday, I want to get back to my life. I want to work. I want to go back to school... I want to have the life that my beloved and I have dreamed of.

On December 1st I will sign consents for surgery and hopefully be given a surgery date. I am expected to go on a family cruise in December for my parents 25th wedding anniversary. So I will likely not be able to have surgery until next year. But expect picture laden posts, from both events!

In the meantime I'm furiously knitting on a Juliet Sweater somewhat like this one that I hope to be able to wear on the cruise.

Molly Dog is doing okay on some new medication. However we're told that her prognosis is between 6 months to two years. We're loving her up lots and watching her carefully. We're more concerned with the quality of her life rather than the quantity.

Herding Cats

2008-09-23T22:47:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted in a while because I've been trying to create some routine around here now that Baby Girl is staying with us for a while. But, if you didn't guess from the title there, I feel like I'm trying to do the impossible most days.

Still, most days things go pretty smoothly. The kid is fascinated by the birds and the birds, well... they're not so sure about her.

But I figure as long as everyone keeps their distance from each other we'll be fine. And some day, when our hearts have recovered from the empty place that she'll leave once she's moved on to be with her biological family, the parrot will imitate her scream or her laugh and remind us of how much a part of our lives she once was.

In the meantime Molly is my chief childcare assistant. For some reason Baby Girl finds her laughing her ass off funny. Baby Girl plays in the excer-saucer that was gifted to her by a kind stranger and laughs and laughs at Molly watching her.

Molly has been diagnosed with (among other things) congestive heart failure (CHF). I'll try to keep you posted on her progress, we're going to be trying some new meds with her to improve her heart function.

And Dobby... poor Dobby kitty...

he's getting quite good at finding new places to stay out of the way of The Usurper (as we think the pets would call her if they could). He's adjusting, just not as quickly as the dogs.

Me, I wouldn't be managing any of this without the miracle of "better living through chemistry" as we like to call it. I leave for the National Institutes of Health this weekend. I hope that while I'm there they'll figure out exactly what this tumor on my pituitary gland is doing, and point me in the direction of regaining my health.

The corn and peas are touching... They're touchingthey'retouching they'retouching!

2008-08-10T12:33:00.000-07:00

Is it really blogging if I don't do it regularly?

I let everything get derailed over the last few weeks because of this happy little girl and her mother.

This happy little girl is a festering cesspool of disease... which might be normal except for the fact that, in addition to thrush, what she has is Aeromonas bacteria in her stool and sweet baby jebus only knows if she's got it anywhere else.

Let me rewind a bit and give you the readers digest condensed version... sort of. Right. Like I'd be any good at that.

I've known her Mom off and on over about two years. Little Girl's Mom is a graduate of the foster care system. She's got the emotional maturity of an 11 year old if we're all really lucky. She also probably is suffering with post-partum depression. I can't even say half the shit that's going on because, quite frankly, it's a real big monster ass mess.

Okay. Short version. Stay focused. Shortly after these two came to stay with us my lovely neighbor gave us tickets to see the California Philharmonic at the L.A. Arboretum. That night apparently my sweet Molly Dog coughed so hard she passed out and possibly had a seizure. OHMYHELL. The coughing had just started in the last 24 hours and had apparently gotten very very severe.

We were an hour away from home. Bless my neighbor who gave me the tickets and her sick husband, they took Molly to the emergency hospital where she stayed two nights. No more seizures, but it looks like she picked up a lung infection while at my vet's office the day she had the cardiac ultrasound. I'm still trying not to think about what this cost. She's worth every penny of it.

I'm glad that I did have Little Girl's Mom here because we might not have known what happened, and the outcome could have been much worse. *SHUDDER*

My DH had to leave on a Wednesday to go do Army Reverse, er, I mean Reserve, stuff. He was gone until Sunday. Wednesday night Little Girl's Mom goes out telling me she'll be back shortly after I get home from my Stitch N Bitch meeting. She has Little Girl with her and never calls, and doesn't answer my calls to her cell phone until late the next morning.

When I get up, early for me, to give Molly her anti-coughing medicine I find my beloved agoraphobic Peekaboo kitty is in the bottom of his cage/home, there is bloody goo all over and his breathing is loud, labored and just sounds ragged and awful. His mouth is bloody. He sees me and meows loudly but horribly once, in a way I've never heard in my life and hope to never hear again. He seems to be begging me to help him. It was awful. I don't have words for how awful.

I quickly medicate Molly, throw on clothes and help my Boober into a travel crate. My only thought is to get him to the vet (not even open yet) and end his suffering. He died shortly after I got there. If I had known he would pass so quickly I would have stayed home and just held him.

Little Girl's Mom comes back later in the morning. My landlord actually steps up to the plate and offers a supportive ear in the meantime. Necropsy on Peekaboo shows that he likely had horrible lung cancer. For a long-ass time. I feel even worse. All these years that we thought he had horrible hairballs that he couldn't quite get up he was literally trying to hack up a lung.

This doesn't seem like the shortened version, but trust me, IT IS.

Days later I discover that Little Girl's Mother (whom I'd discovered was drinking heavily and at the very least smoking weed) has brought Marijuana into my home. HOW DARE SHE! In retrospect I should have confiscated it, had the cops come get it, but allowed her to stay her while I quietly contacted Children and Family Services. But DH and I decided that she needed to go, and the sooner the better.

There WAS drama with the police, drama with DCFS and more drama just for drama's sake. It's not over, but she's not welcome back unless she's willing to abide by prision-like rules. We've offered repeatedly to care for the Little Girl while she sorts things out. She has convinced herself that I would kidnap little girl. Right. Whatever, crazy. I am not even going to try to wrap my damaged brain around addict logic.

Both Molly and Merlin now apparently also have Aeromonas, I was sick with it for a few days after she first got here (and am worried that I may need to get my stool cultured too, ew ew ew ew ew ew), and I'm worried about the birds.

But... if you've read all this... you should know you that two good things have happened. First is that after the last few weeks I no longer doubt our ability to become good parents someday. AND... I've been accepted into the Pituitary Tumor Protocol at NIH. More on that good news later.

Love until it hurts, then love a little more.

2008-07-18T01:22:00.000-07:00

This is Molly Marie. She is one special little lady. She's probably part border collie, but she's afraid of sheep. She showed a mild interest in herding ducks until one of the ducks charged her. Then she ran away, tail between her legs. Herding is not her "thing", people are.

When we used to take her to the dog park she'd be excited as all heck until she remembered, OMG... there's DOGS at the DOG PARK!

The only time I've ever seen her act aggressive is toward other dogs. Especially any so rude as to smell her! After running away from a dog park toward a busy street we gave up on that idea too.

Molly is Daddy's girl. Not that she dosen't love me too, but she's all about my husband. Has been since we brought her home from the shelter. The contortions she will go through to sneak into his lap are worthy of a master yogi.

Everyone that meets her just swoons over her. She's has such an expressive face, it's hard not to. Maybe someday I'll tell you Molly's whole story. But for today, what we're dealing with is the fact that Molly's heart is no longer able to do its job very well. And that's saying a lot for a dog that has been nothing but a love sponge for as long as I've known her.
Molly is the first dog I've ever cared for that had a sense of humor. She actually tells jokes (although you have to be there to get it). Once she tried to cram herself into the crate that I use for my parrot just to make me laugh.

She's also hugely stubborn, and quite possibly smarter than we are about a number of things.
When asked to do something she doesn't want to, like come into the house when she's not quite done worshiping the sun, she performs the best passive resistance demonstration ever. She goes completely limp and cannot hear you at all. She melts. Of course if you stop paying attention to her she eventually complies.

As you can see Molly is not our only dog. But none of us can imagine our lives without her right now. We're hoping that some medication will make the next years of her life (and we hope that there will be many of them) healthier.

And not just because she's such a good sport about modeling my knitting...

but because of the amazing, personable and clever being she is. Knowing her has enriched me, and I'm not ready for that relationship to end.

I think she still has a thing or two to teach to me, and a joke or two up her doggie sleeve.

I'm a little tied up right now...

2008-06-12T12:12:00.000-07:00

I learned how to crochet when I was in grade school. But, what I've always really wanted to do was knit. Now that I have all this lack of energy and motivation to go places or do things I finally got back on that horse and rode it.

I'm knitting!

Thanks to the help of my local SnB and the wonder of the interwebs and great websites like knittinghelp.com I'm making progress.

I've also taken to knitting things for random people. I'm weird like that. It took me a bit to find just the right green for my favorite pharmacy technician, but I finally did and knit him a hat. Maybe having a warm head will cheer him up a bit... no, I'm just kidding, his face is stuck like that.

I felt so cool when he said the hat was "sick" (heh, just like me!) and announced that it was his new favorite hat. I rock.

Now for socks... the true reason I want to knit. I've knit a pair of slipper socks for me and a matching pair for Rob using a self patterning yarn. I'm starting a project with actual sock yarn, going to knit a sweater for myself and at some point soon start learning the magic they call "color work".

Things with Count Rugen are more or less on hold in the meantime. Despite having a neurosurgeon and one endocrinologist that think I should evict him surgically . Since I don't have a rock solid diagnosis they can't give me a concrete answer about how they'll know I'm "cured". What with the risks involved and at best there being only a 60% chance of remission from one surgery, I've been looking for more answers before we do that. Right now my primary care doctor and I working on applying for a study at The National Institutes of Health.

Besides, I've got two other endocrinologists that seem to think I'd be better off waiting to get sicker. Isn't that nice of them? On the days that I'm too tired, or my brain is too fried, to even lay-a- bed and knit I look forward to getting sicker to please medical science.

Life Under a Rock

2007-04-01T15:01:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted anything in forever because I have a tumor in my pituitary gland. You read that right... I've named it Count Rugen.

It's messing with all my hormones, not to mention my life.

I have a number of doctors that are convinced that I have Cushing's Disease but there is not enough "biochemical evidence" to support a diagnosis that would send me to surgery to remove the evil little thing.

In the meantime I try to keep my spirits up while I loose just about everything else. The one bright spot in all this is that my husband has been wonderful. The only thing I'm not loosing to this is my marriage. And I'm awful glad for that.

Of Validation and Junk Mail

2005-08-21T16:35:00.000-07:00

Oh dear.

All this time I've left things blank on my personal profile. But today, most likely because the alternative was to do housework, I filled in those blanks. Lo and behold! I've been spamed!

All this time I've had not one comment. This has, of course, deepened my suspicions that I may be completely worth ignoring. But at least I was spam free. We never know how good we have it, do we?

Ah well, my existence is confirmed.

...I have been spammed, therefore, I am.

I can't see a thing with this stethoscope in my ears.

2005-08-20T14:37:00.000-07:00

Hello. Were you here? Did any invisible friends come to visit while I was gone? I'm sorry... I was away having my brains scrambled by my first nursing job.

....BEGIN SARCASM....

Uh huh, yeah... that lasted just a few days over three months.

So after spending countless (actually it was about 40) hours doing uncompensated self-study training packets and multiple shifts where I had a total of over 25 preceptors, I found myself in the oh-so-enviable position of having to resign or be fired.

Some idiot claiming to be a Rocket Scientist decided that having someone try to learn to do a job that they've never done before by training with different people all the time, the bulk of whom have never received training in how to train someone is the best way to do things. Naturally this is even better when the work in question is undeniably different from anything the new person studied for!

At first I managed. Toward the end of the first month the who-told-you-to-do-it-that-way's started to make me a little defensive. By the end of the second month the few people that would let me attempt to do my job, despite their having never worked with me before, were often a trying experience in and of itself. They were often the ones that would seemingly vanish leaving me with no resources.

The woman that was telling me what to do, how to do it and in what order, before I could even take my first breath on the clock, was causing me to have not so Christian thoughts. Whatever it was that I did to piss her off was my undoing. The new nurse has no credibility against the nurse with some two decades of tenure.

So now I have all this wonderful free time to have appointments with the endocrinologist that is my best hope of figuring out why my body is being so damn weird. In the meantime I'm NEVER, and I do mean NEVER EVER, having an MRI of my brain without prior sedation. I know you're dying to ask... yes, they found one in there.

Pardon me while I go lie down for a bit... being flat is the only way that I feel halfway decent these days. Good thing I've got the new Harry Potter book to read, being sick is handy for that at least.

I can't help but laugh at it all... after all, it could be worse :) I have some savings, DH has a job and I find the whole thing oddly amusing... I have to laugh at it all, the alternative is unacceptable.

Happy Friday the 13th!

2005-05-13T22:33:00.000-07:00

Usually this is a lucky day for me. Today, the universe had other ideas.

This morning my favorite neighbor had her bank account attached by the IRS. The IRS sucks.

Then, while carpooling with a co-worker to a satellite clinic they go to, DH gets a ticket for driving 44 mph in a 30 mph zone. He wasn't going faster than anyone else, he just was the lucky one who had the radar gun pointed at him. Or not, who knows, he still got the ticket.

I go and take my medication administration exam for work, and pass! Woo Hoo! But then I stop in the ladies room, and my zipper doesn't want to go down. That's fine, these pants are way loose and I slide them down easily enough, but without thinking I press against the waistband with my calves and pop the zipper.

I still have to go meet with my manager to get my schedule for the next week.

I am forced to remove my pants and I spend 10 minutes standing in the toilet stall disassembling my pants to re thread the zipper.

Me in my underwear... hoping some nun doesn't come into the bathroom and wonder what I'm doing in there. For so long. Standing up that way... trying prevent myself from grumbling pseudo-obscenities (Pigeon-poodles!), let alone what I really want to say. The whole time I'm thinking about how funny this will be in my blog. Which is the only thing that keeps me from loosing it completely. See what good invisible friend group therapy this is!

While I make it through my day and get home, my favorite neighbor, my "Mama" calls me and asks me to put on my "nurses-hat" and come over and look at her elbow, she's been in a wreck on the freeway.

It is lucky after all... My favorite neighbor has other resources for now, the person that rear-ended her twice (TWICE! Wasn't paying attention to stopping at all! Hit her so hard they left the imprint of the license plate in the bumper) has insurance and DH can go to traffic school.

Now all I have to do is manage to get through the first few months on the job without committing complete social suicide... for a future blog: how the filter between the brain and the mouth can malfunction resulting in oral-pedal contact.

(post script: I just realized that the spell check feature does not work in mozilla; and here I thought I'd finally learned to spell! How embarrassing!)

Where do my days go?

2005-05-10T11:39:00.000-07:00

I had planned on a moderately productive day yesterday...

I did finally use this pet hair squeegee thing I have to assault the area rug in the living room... whoo hoo! What an adventure. And by the end of squeegeeing the rug I felt sick, so I wasn't surprised when I took my heart rate and found it to be over 150. No wonder I didn't feel right. Nothing like excercizing my fat self into a heart attack, eh? Unless you've squeegeed an area rug felted with dog hair you have no idea what FUN exercise this can be!

I need to study for a medication math test that I have to take at my job before I can go to work "on the floor". Yeah, didn't study for that. Didn't do the laundry. Didn't do the dishes. Didn't even make it to the chiropractor on time.

What I did do was visit blogs. Oh, and vacuum, I did vacuum. But mostly I visited the blog that inspired me to start this one, and some of her friends blogs, like Knit Kitty Knit. So now you can visit and wonder where your day went too.

Agenda for today: Actually do laundry. Actually do dishes. Actually study for test. But first... find the top of the desk.

Gotta Start Somewhere...

2005-05-06T17:12:00.000-07:00

So I suppose I'll just start in the middle...

I live in a duplex. My neighbor is also my landlord... I'll just call her Cat Lady. Before we moved here she was a friend (it was an act of desperiation, trust me... NEVER rent from a friend) but in the last year she has oozed herself closer and closer to slumlord status. She's become obsessed with buying additional properties to increase her wealth, although for years she has insisted that she cannot afford to maintain this place correctly.

Cat Lady's ability to be penny-wise and ton-foolish (way more than a pound, trust me) is normally a source of near constant amusement.

The latest episode in the saga is that we've had standing water in the crawl space for months now. Every time it rains it gets worse, because every time the ground gets wet from above the water below (from an underground spring that dosn't exist) causes it to take forever to evaporate becuase we're on a high water table. Just about every other house on this side of the street has a sump pump. But not us... no no!

Did I mention that I live in a neighborhood where there has been at least one confirmed human case of West Nile Virus and multiple confirmed cases in dead birds? Well, I do.

So we're directly above the neighborhood Mosquito Motel.

If I don't keep windows open all the time the house gets very humid, and we're growing the most interesting mushrooms in the front yard. I won't gross you out with the mold issues in one of the bedrooms and the bath.

I have been unable to open the window in the aforementioned bedroom for ages because of the mosquito issues and the fact that the screen was bent. I had extra screens that we had taken out when we put in window a/c, but she took those to replace her own screens that her cats had shredded.

I finally took the screen to get fixed this week... I should have done it weeks ago, but in my life if it's not a crisis it's probably not even happening. I got the good pet-resistant screen so my current cat won't wreck it. Cost almost $24. One screen... good, fine, whatever.

So today when I go to pick it up I notice this really nice wooden screen door out in the parking lot. After I pay for the new window screen I ask the guy working there if I can have the door. At first he says that the owner might sell it to me. I explain that I just thought it'd be neat to use for a plant trellis. Now he says I can have it. Wow... I'm a better liar than I thought!

Of course my car is full of crap. I'm shoving this huge screen door into my car and the guy comes out and tells me to hurry up before his boss comes back... oh great! I shove it in, get in the car, hit my head on the screen and drive away.

I call my other neighbor who I adore. I tell her I'm bringing something home for her. She wants to know where I am... I'm driving, all scrunched up so I don't hit my head on the thing I have for her because it's so big! She says What the hell did you get?!

She's thrilled with the screen door, and she can use it. I tell her Happy Mother's Day, Mama... I can stop grumbling for at least 20 minutes, I'm so thrilled that she loves it.

I put in the new window screen... which dosn't quite fit so I'm going to have to buy some of that spray foam stuff to close the gap. But I'm not bothered, my friend is thrilled with her "new" door.

Ain't life grand?