•2010/06/15 • Leave a Comment

Severely depressed the past few days. Hubby laid off from yet another job (that makes 4 or 5 since January). This has left us with no health insurance until July 1st, when my benefits (from changing jobs) finally kick in. Coming up on my parent’s wedding anniversary and Father’s Day, both of which will be the first since my dad passed away. I just feel so … useless, so little, so irreparably broken and damaged.

Not even sure if anyone reads this anymore at all other than me.

I don’t know what to do.


Much needed dose of humor

•2010/05/05 • Leave a Comment

Yes. Go here. You will either love it or think everyone involved is insane. Even if you just read the “Best Of”s that are listed on the right side of the page …

Bad joke

•2010/05/04 • Leave a Comment

Countdown thingy

May the fourth, be with you.

So incredibly terrible and yet my friends love it.

Alone – NSFW Language

•2010/05/03 • Leave a Comment

Home alone. DH out of town dealing with the legal trial related to a car accident that happened 7-10 years ago (lawsuit filed the summer before the statute of limitations would have been up, so it’s still a viable suit). Only problem is that DH was only supposed to be there the last day of the three day trial (since he was a minor at the time), which worked perfectly because his new job (acquired after over a year of unemployment) has him scheduled for Wednesdays off.

We get a call this morning, 10AMish: “You’re due in court today at 1:30. Wear a suit.” Yes, because we have so many suits lying around, clean and dry-cleaned and ready to be worn. And because we have nothing better to do than sit around waiting for the damned judge to decide, at the last minute, that all parties and all parties’ parties had to be present the entire fucking time. Seriously. All that happened today was jury selection. No deliberation at all. Why the fuck did he have to miss work for that and risk losing his job for taking time off so early in his employment?

Let’s see … sexually harassed/discriminated by a patron. BOSS, the one who’s taken HR classes in preventing that, chose to laugh instead. Laughing is not the appropriate response to a hormonal, crampy woman whose major pet peeve is being told that she’s too stupid to do anything.

Been waiting for an email from the HR of my new job for the background check & drug test instructions. I was so worried because when I had signed up (you were given 72 hours to sign an agreement form to take them – I guess maybe to give people time to decide if they really wanted to accept the job offer? Whatever), our internet connection was intermittent at best. I was worried that my application/acceptance had timed out server side and that I hadn’t received the HR email because of that. Thankfully, it showed up in my email inbox about 30 minutes ago. Thank god. After this morning’s incident with the patron, I want nothing more to do with my current employment and didn’t want a broken email connection to prevent me from moving from one job to another. I mean, DH and I have dealt with living on one income, but that was forced upon us and we agreed that we never wanted to do that again (at least, not a one income at its current level, which isn’t much).

Took my desire to get more exercise, just to appease the doctors who are convinced my weight gain is due to lack of activity (3o minute walks + 30 minutes pilates a day, people…), a little too far. It was raining so hard that the sidewalks were swimming in lake-like puddles. Me, in sandals, decided to go walking anyway. Plus side: I got some extra exercise in. Minus side – my feet were freezing cold the rest of the day and my shoes have acquired an annoying squeak.

So, shitty day combined with horrid, crippling cramps and the fear that I would never escape my current shithole of a job => one nice, long panic attack.

Everything should be getting better, though. ROOMMATE will be coming home shortly from work so at least I’ll have someone to tell me to shut-up over my worries. ūüôā

OH. And nothing helps a bad day better than having a sweet kitty cuddle against you, resting his head on your collarbone, and purring in your ear.

Sweet kitty

Pictured not cuddling but rather telling me to get off the computer and stop worrying!

Just stop…

•2010/05/03 • Leave a Comment

Yes, I’m talking to you, ovaries and uterus. Stop with your painful cramps that feel as though the ovaries are boxing the uterus. Seriously, that’s just plain rude.

My fail OBGYN prescribed Ponstel , which doesn’t even touch the severe cramping. In fact, the only medication strength that has worked were narcotic pain relievers (figured that one out because I had left-overs from one of my surgeries and took one because I thought my brain would ooze out of my body as a way to escape the pain) but I know she’ll never issue me a prescription for that. “You’ll get addicted to pain-killers and cramps are never painful enough to justify that prescription.” Again – when my brain tries to leap out of me to escape the pain … I think I’m in a great deal of pain.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about my father the past few days. How much I miss him, how much fun we had together, how similar we are in terms of humor and interests and whatnot, how hard he fought his pancreatic cancer and how much some family members disparaged his efforts. I’d also read this news article, where the UK’s Cancer Research center believes they’ve found a therapy that cures a person’s cancer. And that part of me that’s become bitter thought of how long it will take to get that therapy approved (if ever) because of how profit-centric the health industry has become.

On the other hand … 13 minutes into my last week of work and most of those 13 minutes have consisted of utterly inane ‘jokes’ about the BP oil spill. I mean, if someone’s going to interrupt my work with humor, at least make it actually funny. What’s so annoying is that since BOSS is mostly deaf and also thinks that his jokes are the funniest things in the world, he will cackle at a volume that can probably shift the bricks in my office wall. Because of his memory issues, he will then repeat the supposed punch line two or three times, each time accompanied by more cackling.

Random Fact: Much like my father, I love working during ‘off’ times (like nights or weekends). I’m a night person as it is and it’s so nice to me to work four 10-hour night/weekend shifts so that I don’t have to use my accrued leave time just to sit in a doctor’s office for 2 – 6 hours. I’d rather use my accrued leave to take a vacation!


•2010/05/01 • 5 Comments

For those who check this blog without knowing what ICLW means, head on over this-a-way.

For everyone else, hi and welcome to my parcel of virtual land. Many of you who have come here from ICLW’s neighborhood are probably wondering what my story is. Well, mine’s a little different.

My husband and I are NOT trying to conceive.

See, I told you. Different So why am I here? Because I already know that I am infertile. Irregular cycles? How about having them spaced 6-8 weeks and accompanied by severe cramps before disappearing for a quarter of the year and then slamming me all over again? And yes, that was on monthly birth control. And ovarian cysts – let’s say that I’m a gold medalist in growing them. Too bad I can’t earn a ribbon for it like herbalists do for their flowers. Oh well. And even though I dive into salads and whole-wheat, lean-meat meals and go walking every day and throw myself into Pilates every night, I’ve managed to gain 60 pounds in a year.

But the buzz words – endometriosis, PCOS, hypothyroidism, secondary¬†amenorrhea¬† – started floating around in early 2008. I’d started experiencing upper right quadrant pain, nausea and severely depressed appetite. DH took me to the ER (he was concerned because of the amount of pain I’d been in), where I swore up and down during triage that it was my ovary (oh yeah – when my cysts had started up, I was told that I only had one ovary. That was a nice blow. The first ER visit for the URQ pain showed that my left ovary was adhered to the back of my uterus) growing another cyst. I was given good news – no cysts (heck, great news – my left ovary was found!) – but told that they couldn’t find the source of my pain and that I should find a GP. This pain took 8 months to diagnose as related to my gall bladder and during these 8 months is when doctors started dropping those aforementioned buzz words. One GP was convinced that I had both gall bladder disease AND endo, but all the GB scans came back normal and endo, of course, can’t be diagnosed under health insurance coverage until after a year of TTC. The GB was finally diagnosed and the doctor’s visits stopped.

The ovarian cysts continued to pop up. The weight gain started. My OBGYN, who knew of both my history and of my GP’s suspicions regarding endo or PCOS (heck, that’s why he referred me to her!) started throwing every BCP at me in the book. “You shouldn’t be getting cysts on BC. You’re obviously taking it wrong.” She would mumble after an appointment. “Stop being so worried. It’s ok to skip a period or two while on the pill”. Ugh. Whatever. I (most likely stupidly) continued taking BCPs. I continued being wracked with horrendous menstrual cramps. Because I was so exhausted from fighting for treatment for my gall bladder disease, I just accepted that my OBGYN knew what she was doing and kept swallowing the pills and waiting six – eight weeks for my period.

And then, December 2009, my period stopped altogether. Still the cramps. Still the bloating. Still the cysts. But no blood to show for it. That sounds so weird – I was pissed and worried because I wasn’t bleeding. ¬†Kidney stones jumped in on the fun, too (in fact, one CT scan found a cyst in addition to my right kidney being basically a bag of stones. I shrugged off the cyst news, which freaked out my urologist – guess he forgot that I was used to dealing with them!). I spoke to my OBGYN again. She, again, told me to not be too concerned and changed my BCP again.

I’ve now got several blood tests and other tests in the works to check out my endocrine system. My endocrinologist suspects hypothyroidism + PCOS. I’ve learned, already, that the medical world is one big waiting/guessing game.

So, I’m here for support – giving and taking a little, too. I’m here because my heart has already shattered, multiple times, with the painful growth of each new cyst. I’m here because of the tears I’ve shed – first when the doctors weren’t sure if my cysts were cancerous or not, then when my left ovary played hide-and-seek for a year, and finally when my period stopped altogether. I’m here because I’m at the age where most of my friends are married and starting to glow with new life within. I’m here because I look at these friends, at their ultrasound portraits and their triumphant but weary faces in the delivery room, and wonder: what if I am infertile? What if nothing can be done?

So I am here, waiting on the doctors, waiting on my body, and waiting to hear from you. I’m surrounded by fertiles, ladies, and it’s not fun. I am bitter already and haven’t even started TTC. Am I going to be a miserable woman the rest of my life? I don’t know.

Random fact: The medical world is in no way precise. Most doctors only look for textbook symptoms and if you fall outside the normal range, you obviously don’t have that disease. It took so long to diagnose my gall bladder because all my tests were in the normal range (however, they were on the low end of the normal range, which I still say should have been a huge indicator that things were heading south). I had to beg for surgery, had to endure nurses telling me I was crazy, and finally had an emotional breakdown in a doctor’s office before I was finally cleared for surgery. Turns out there were diverticula on the back of my gall bladder, small enough to not be detected on CT scans.


•2010/04/29 • Leave a Comment

Just a few more days until I leave this place. When I realize just how few days are left, I am overwhelmed with joy. However, serious lethargy has set in – I know I should be a good little worker and continue doing every task until the very end.¬†A huge part of me, though, just wants to give up and basically occupy space until that last day. ¬†The nature of my work deals with many daily tasks and several huge projects (usually writing inventories for the materials we store). My BOSS, however, is so … overwhelmed? lazy? ineffective? … that oftentimes a work-in-progress is completely abandoned when the inventory writer leaves (which is also why it’s both a blessing and a curse to allow volunteers or temp workers). I’m far too early in my project to hope to complete it in a week. Continuing to work on it, or writing extensive notes regarding its continuation, will both prove useless because no one will pick it up, at least not while BOSS is still in charge.

As much as it is poor form, my absolute misery is winning out. I am still getting work done, just much more slowly and with markedly longer breaks to surf the internet. And every time BOSS wonders over to gossip, I have to fight interrupting him with “Can you please stop? I’m trying to get work done and it won’t matter to me in a week, anyway.”

Random fact: I’m an excellent organizer and cleaner, as long as it is not my space that needs to be organized or cleaned. When my dad passed away, I started an all-out assault on my parent’s house. My house? Let’s just say that we moved into it two years ago and only this past weekend have things finally been unpacked/shoved onto shelves in a closet/thrown away. I’ll post before & after pictures later (*mumble mumble* have to find camera & camera cord *mumble mumble*). Hey now. I warned you that I’m an awful straightener/cleaner of my own things!