sueeeus

Even with my rosy colored glasses, I’m thinking that I can probably put together a list of twenty five physical ailments, annoyances, nuisances and shortcomings.

1. Low back pain, chronic but flared beyond normal of late
2. Neck pain, chronic
3. Bruises all over my legs.  Where did they come from?
4. What might be the beginning of varicose veins, discovered while pondering the origination of the bruises.
5. Upper back pain, chronic
6. Leg cramps
7. Itchy spots that travel when itched
8. Scars from burns made in August 2007
9. Scars from teenage acne
10. Scars from adult acne
11. Sleep apnea
12. Chronic post nasal drip
13. An alarming amount of grey hair
14. Hangnails
15. Cracked dry skin
16. Water retention
17. Type II Diabetes
18. Insomnia
19. Fatigue
20. Hair in my eyes (badly in need of a trim)
21. Wide feet
22. Multiple chins
23. Spare tires.  Not just one, but a whole set.
24. Bad breath (I suspect it’s related to #12)
25. Receding gums

I don’t dwell on these things.  I just realize that I took my youth entirely for granted, assuming that I would always feel lively, flexible, well-rested, and energetic, completely oblivious to the fact that the onset of years would eventually take their toll.

The chronic back and neck pain entered my life concurrent with the emergence of the buxom twins.  The rest can be attributed in one way or another to a combination of genetics and a desk job.

I live with these things, but no worries.  I smile every day.  I could probably put together a list of nice physical things as well, if I try hard enough.

1. Thick hair
2. Peanut buttery skin color (the down side is that it scars easily)
3. Smooth skin (edema and spare tires help keep it stretched out, thus hiding potential wrinkles; see, there is a bright side to everything, if only one looks)
4. Strong teeth
5. Fairly white teeth (even if they don’t smell good, at least they look good)
6. Pleasant smile (see 5)
7. Medium height (I’m pretty sure I’d be happy with my height, no matter what it was.  Like my 5’3″ grandpa used to say, his legs reached the ground so they were long enough.)
8. Nicely shaped hands
9. Nicely shaped feet (albeit quite wide)
10. Innie (not that it matters whether one’s navel is an innie or an outie, but mine happens to be an innie, and I’m happy with it)
11. Brown eyes that tend to look a bit amber/golden in the right light
12. That vaguely exotic look that mixed race people tend to have
13. Oval face
14. Very little body hair (no shaving necessary!)
15. Sunburn-resistant skin
16. High cheekbones
17. Perfect earlobes (other than that they’re pierced)
18. Healthy fingernails (apart from hangnails)
19. Muscle strength (beneath the many protective and insulating layers, there is actually some good, strong muscle tissue!)
20. No missing appendages (not that it matters, but I do have ten fingers and ten toes, and that’s all right by me)
21. Nearly 20-20 vision (thanks to RK)
22. Low maintenance hair (that holds a style nicely if I were to bother with styling it)
23. Reasonably good coordination
24. Hand dexterity
25. Well-proportioned skeletal form (I can see that beneath the many protective layers, should I ever shed some, there is the potential of a nice figure, and I find that somewhat encouraging)

See?  I came up with 25 things!

No.  Not that one.  (Although…)

This one. 

I’ve decided that mood stabilization does, indeed, work.  At least so far.  For me.  Sometimes I can feel the fringe of the battle raging within, but it’s only the fringe.  I know the battle is there, but I’m no longer on the front line under fire.  Instead, I’m tucked safely away in a watchtower.   Observing, but not being pummeled.

I like that.

Every night as my head hits the pillow, I try to think of the happiest moment of my day.  It’s such a good exercise, because it makes me think of all the moments of happiness, and weigh them against each other to decide which was the best.  So I fall asleep with happiness as the last thing on my mind.

Sometimes I’ll ask Mr. Gadget what his happiest moment was, but I think  he thinks it’s a trick question, so he tells me what he thinks I want to  hear, “Coming home after work, walking in the door, and seeing you and Harry.   Dear.”  I tell him it’s not a trick question, but he must not believe me, because he gives the same answer every time I ask.  (Of course, it is possible that that truly is the highlight of his day. I’m not complaining!)

Some of my happiest moments take place on mornings of days in which I stay home.  Early morning, in my office.  Eventually I hear soft steps making their way carefully down the stairs.  I hear the gentle tinkling sound of the safety gate opening and closing.  I hear little footsteps, padding towards the office.  And there he is, my sweet little man, groggy and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  Looking for me.  It makes the heart swell.  I open my arms, he climbs into my lap, and we have our morning conversation, which always goes like this:  “Did you wake up?”  I ask. “Yyahh…” he replies in his sweet young voice.  “Did you have a nice sleep?”   “Yyahh…”   “Did you have some dreams?”  “Yyahh…”  (And then sometimes we talk about spiders and he tells me of the time that he woke up screaming, thinking there was a spider crawling on his face, but it was just the curtain.  Or a spider on the curtain.  Or a dream about a spider on the curtain.  Or all of these things.)

And he lets me snuggle him for a few moments.  Those are the moments I love best, because usually he has so many other things he’d rather do than let me hold him close and bury my nose in his hair.  I treasure those moments, fleeting as they are.

There are ups and downs, pros and cons, and hazards to being sick.

Last Friday, Harry had a sorrowful cough. The little guy’s eyes would fill with tears when one forced its way from his little lungs. It breaks a mother’s heart. On the up side, I called in sick so that I could care for him. I had a full day with absolutely no thoughts spent on the work that butters my bread. Instead, I got to be a stay-at-home-mom. (My dream job.) And that was divine.

*~*~*

He was still sick come Monday. I worked from home, and he slept most of the day.

*~*~*

Tuesday I reveled and marveled that I made it through the past three weeks of family sniffles with nary a nose wipe. Then I ate my words, or thoughts, rather, came home early, curled up on the sofa, and napped. And then I watched Oprah. Where I learned that tomorrow’s episode is My Favorite Things.

*~*~*

Wednesday I called in sick, dragged my child to daycare, dragged myself back home and slept most of the day. Of course I watched Oprah. I could very easily become one of the masses of addicts, tuning in every day to listen to the heart warming or wrenching topic du jour. But the favorite things episode is fun. It’s like everyone in the audience wins the lottery, as they are bestowed with every whizzbang thing she unveils. It must feel so good to give so much stuff to so many people, to literally shock them with the outpouring of gifts.

*~*~*

Back to work Thursday and Friday. Too many deadlines to allow myself any further time off.

*~*~*

CPAP with a cold BLOWS. I know, I know. It’s an excruciating pun. Or is that not a pun? Too stuffed up to care. I had to switch to the full face mask, because I haven’t been able to breathe through my left nostril for the last three days. Two hours into it and my mouth is a wasteland from all that forced air. And my ears itch. All my megadosing of vitamin C is for naught, it appears. I put peroxide in my ears to try and kill anything that’s trying to colonize.

*~*~*

What does one do at 2 a.m. while trying to relieve a parched mouth, itching ears, and stuffed nose, one might ask? Well. First, yank off the offending mask (but don’t hurl it across the room for fear of disturbing the sleeping family). Next, stumble to the bathroom in an oxygen and sleep deprived stupor. Rustle through the cupboards looking for the waterpik thingy with the nasal irrigation tip. Rustle through more cupboards looking for the home-made saline solution. Mix up a batch and irrigate the sinuses in the hopes that air might actually be able to pass through that left nostril when all is said and done. Stumble downstairs, consider rustling through more cupboards in search of brandy or whiskey to enhance the medicinal effects of the tea I so desperately desire, but decide to settle for plain jasmine. In the interest of time. Liberally apply Vicks VapoRub to the nose, throat, and chest. Apply peroxide to one ear canal. Delete spam email with head tilted. Apply peroxide to the other ear canal. Discover a $20 off coupon from REI among the spam. Spend $102 on REI.com in order to use the coupon. Drain the ears. Drink the tea. Catch up on blogs.

*~*~*

If I could have just slept through the night, I’d be $89.15 richer (post-coupon and tax). But now I will soon have a new pair of shoes, a headlamp, and a flashlight. My favorite red shoes have worn out in the sole, much to my dismay. And my replacement shoes are ultra comfortable, but alas, they squeak. Which drives me nuts. So a new pair of shoes is reasonable.

And the headlamp? Although I doubt I will be doing much night-time hiking, it looks like it will do nicely for reading in bed.

And the flashlight. Is a lizard. How cute is that. As though my child needs more stuff. Note to self. STOP buying things for the boy.

But I had to exceed $100 to meet the coupon requirements. And tomorrow? We shop for a kitchen sink.

Good Things.

• Doritos
• Autumn leaves
• Cookies

Not So Good Things.

• Bugs
• My left calf muscle, 20 seconds into my DDR exercise routine.

Ouch. Suffice it to say, there will be no dancing for a while. Which entitles me to work on my rock and roll legend status. Did I not mention that, according to Guitar Hero III, I am a rock and roll legend (on medium)? I’m working my way through the next level (hard). And having a blast. Yes, that’s me. Sueeeeus Maximus. Mild mannered desk jockey by day, rock and roll legend by night.

I generally don’t understand the whole influenza inoculation buzz that surfaces every fall. I decided to get the shot, one year, several years ago. I then proceeded to get sick. Very sick. Sicker than I’d been in a very, very, very long time. There are many who will say it’s only a coincidence and one can’t get flu from the shot because the virus is dead. However. I was very sick. With flu. The other argument is that the shot can’t address all strains. Well, if there are a bazillion strains, what good is it to guess at which one is or will be prevalent? It seems like a shot in the dark. So I don’t get vaccinated for flu any more.

Being a mother, I now feel a bit guilty about it. As though I have a parental obligation to have my youngster inoculated.

I’m torn.

He has relatively low exposure to the outside world at this point. The daycare kids currently don’t have elder siblings circulating in school, collecting and transmitting all manner of microscopic ickiness. He plays hard and gets lots of fresh air. He eats well (in general). He is robust. I’m not planning to take him in for a shot. But I’m feeling guilty about it.

It feels good to feel good.  But I am discovering that it’s not all smooth sailing, navigating this slippery slope of mood stabilization.  It’s been about 4 weeks now, and I’ve begun noticing tightness in my jaw, as though I’m unconsciously clenching it, all day long.  It’s a bit unnerving.  It’s like a displaced anxiety.  Take it away from one place and it pops out another.  I don’t like it. 

A cursory Google search yields numerous accounts of jaw clenching as a side-effect of SSRIs and SNRIs.  Even more alarming are the scattered accounts of tics and twitches that may in some cases become permanent.  It frightens me.

I was told it takes 4-6 weeks to realize the full benefit of this medication, so I think I will continue with it this month.  If the jaw tightness remains, I think I will refill one more month on the prescription and use it to gradually taper off.  Because I’ve also read that side-effects from discontinuation are unpleasant.

I wonder if having this reminder of what it feels like to feel good will act as a neural reference point, and help me to attain that frame of mind without brain chemical interference.  I hope so.  I’m somewhat torn.  I want to continue feeling bright and good, but this involuntary jaw clenching has got to go.  It’s mere presence causes anxiety, which defeats the purpose of the medication.

It just feels so good to feel good.  I wish it didn’t come at this price.

There’s really no significance behind the picture, other than I think it’s pretty. I like the way other bloggers post pictures of pretty or interesting or pretty interesting things on their blogs. I don’t have pretty or interesting or pretty interesting things happening in my life, in general, but why not post a pretty picture to add a little flourish to an otherwise dull post?

I’m analyzing the side effects of this Zoloft journey. Objectively and subjectively. The diarrhea was very short-lived, thankfully. Less than one day, really. Today is Day 4.   I feel a little dizzy or loopy, tired, and scattered.  Less anxious, though.  My neck and back are killing me, but that’s probably from my chiroquackery.  Yesterday I had the mother of all migraines. I don’t know if it was Zoloft related or not, but it’s certainly nothing that I want to repeat any time soon. There was less than no appetite, and nausea for sure, but those accompany migraine, so I can’t determine whether one caused another or whether one exacerbated the other, neither, or both. Migraine does a number on blood sugar, I see. No food and elevated glucose. I’d have liked to have taken ibuprofen to help the headache, but recently read that ibuprofen usage at the time of conception dramatically increases the chance of miscarriage. Not that I’ve conceived again, but if it’s at all in the realm of possibility, another miscarriage is the very last thing that I want to experience any time soon. So I took some acetaminophen. It didn’t help. I waited a few hours, did some frantic Google searching on the safety of Vicodin with Zoloft, found nothing concrete, and decided to just take the plunge and hope for the best. I stockpile my Vicodin, if ever I get a prescription, so that I have something for emergencies as this. It helped, in that it kept the pounding at bay so that I could get through the day. I thought the caffeine from some strong coffee might help, but I simply couldn’t stomach the idea of anything.

Did I mention that I was watching five kids this weekend? 15 yog, 11 yog, 7 yob, 2 yob, and 6 mos girl. Sitting on the floor at 3 a.m. holding a teething infant with diarrhea and a blistery red diaper rash, trying to change her diaper without inflicting too much pain, feeding her, comforting her, and trying to get her to go back to sleep, all the while breathing slowly through the pounding in my head, and repeating over and over again, Oh dear God, Oh dear God, why do I think I want another child, Oh dear God my head hurts, please don’t let me throw up. Granted, it’s a big step to go instantly from one child to five, and the migraine made it nearly unbearable. I love my nieces and nephew desperately, but how relieved I was for that day to be over! It takes a full night’s sleep for me to recover from a migraine, for some reason.

It fills my heart to bursting, though, to watch the joy in my son’s face as he plays with his cousin. Two rugged beautiful boys chasing each other in circles, running non-stop through the house, upstairs, downstairs, round and round and round, inside, outside, and back again.

It fills my heart with wonder to watch these beautiful children, and untold gratitude that they belong to us.

I had my first post-diabetes-diagnosis follow up appointment yesterday. I was doing a great job of glucose control while I was pregnant, and I wasn’t even taking the Metformin. After the miscarriage, I restarted the Metformin, but the numbers have been climbing. Granted, I was depressed for a few weeks and wasn’t so careful with my diet. It’s remarkable, the way stress and anxiety affect blood sugar. I’m on the lowest dose of Metformin, and wondered if I might need a little bit more, but she’s not changing the dose for now. She once again recommended a program like Weight Watchers. The reason being that people with addictive tendencies do well in controlling them by attending meetings, like AA or NA, or, in my case, since alcohol and narcotics aren’t my thing, WW. I’ve done WW in a past life. I am not a meetings kind of a person. I can’t do it. I won’t do it. It doesn’t help me. I can’t really explain it. It’s sort of why I don’t go to church, either. I am a solo person. Groups don’t work for me. Anyhow, better weight control will definitely improve the glucose control, so all these things are related.

Then she recommended therapy. I’m not comfortable with the idea of therapy, and I couldn’t very well explain why. I don’t like groups and I don’t like the idea of saying things to a complete stranger that are basically petty, selfish, or both; things that I should be able to deal with on my own. She noted several reasons. So I could grow as a person and get beyond the discomfort of groups. So I could work through the body image. So I could work through the anxiety and stress and grief from trying to conceive and suffering two miscarriages in one year. Is she in cahoots with my ob-gyn? They do share an office. And my medical records. My file is two inches thick.

My blog is my therapy. That and a good cry once in a while.

Which brought her back to the topic of mood stabilization. I had told her that I was okay now; not depressed. But I’ve been wondering lately if I really have been, in my basic state, depressed all along. I told her that I had decided that after I was done with the baby thing that I might consider trying something like Wellbutrin, but I don’t want to go on anything while I am still trying to conceive. I’ve read about weight gain associated with antidepressants mood stabilizers, so I’m very wary. Wellbutrin is one that actually might have the opposite effect, so I asked about it. Wellbutrin would be very low on the list of potential stabilizers that we would recommend. (It’s Category C.) Note the terminology. Stabilizer, not antidepressant. Prozac? No way. I did try that once, ten years ago or so, and couldn’t make it through the first two weeks. I felt like I had a brain cloud or a delay and that I didn’t have immediate control of my mind. (That’s the point, isn’t it? I suppose…. but I didn’t like it.) She said that I might do well with Zoloft, and it’s something that could be taken while trying to conceive, because reduced anxiety improves one’s chances. If I did conceive, we could discuss tapering it off at some point during the pregnancy.

So. Zoloft it is. I picked up the prescription and read that it is used to treat OCD, post-traumatic stress disorder, and social anxiety. Well. Maybe it is the thing for me. Just what the doctor ordered.

Side Effects: Nausea, dizziness, dry mouth, loss of appetite, increased sweating, drowsiness, diarrhea, trouble sleeping.

The pharmacist recommended taking it at night, due to the somnolence factor. Oh. And that it would take 4-6 weeks before I noticed any benefits. As if I’m going to make it past 2 weeks. Fine. So this is day 1. I didn’t sleep well, and had no appetite this morning. (A good thing!) But along with that, nausea. And, ugh. Diarrhea. At least now I can stop taking the Colace for constipation. Hunger briefly overrode nausea, and with it, dizziness. I assumed my blood sugar had dropped, but no. It’s higher than 3 hours ago, which means my liver probably pumped out some extra sugar to make up for the food that I didn’t eat. And the dizziness is likely the Zoloft, not the glucose. Now, after some toast, the hunger is gone, the nausea is back, and the dizziness persists.

But there is no brain cloud, so I can live with this. For now.

… is a pain in the ass

Today I have the WORST headache.  I get these once in a while and I generally call them migraines, although they don’t seem to fully fit the textbook description.  At least, I’ve read that migraines typically occur on one side of the head.  That would count, if it meant the top side rather than the left or right side.  It’s like a ring around the head.  Envision one of those horror flicks in which the evil character takes a saw and cuts off the top of the victim’s head, leaving it like a bowl.  A half head bowl.  That’s the line of my headache.  In fact, most of the time when I get these headaches, that is the line.  A circle around my head at roughly eyebrow level, and everything above it T H R O B S with such force that I can barely breathe.  Nor do I want to breathe, for any motion at all sets it throbbing worse, if that could be possible.  (And it is.)  The pain makes me want to spew, but I most often can avoid that, if I try to be as motionless as possible.  Then there’s the freezing cold, followed by sticky hot, followed again by chills.  And the feeling of constriction anywhere.  I have to take off my rings, my clothes, and try to get comfortable.  At one point the only comfortable position was on my knees, my torso draped over the bed.  I knelt for over an  hour.  Still.  Be very very still.

Two vicodin later (4 hours apart), and after praying, begging and pleading for the pain to stop, I am able to function again. But it’s still there, low-level, threatening to return.  Usually these headaches consume a day, and it’s not until a full night’s sleep that they become a thing of the past.

Normally, I would be pounding the ibuprofen, but I have to consider the big what if.  What if I ovulated   What if there was a happy meeting somewhere in one of my fallopian tubes If so, then would medications inhibit this hopeful blastocyst thingamajiggy from burrowing into my uterine wall   Why do I get sick right when I can’t take anything   I started to notice a swollen throat yesterday, and today it’s worse.  No echinacea.  No megadosed vitamin C.  No ibuprofen.  I try to tough it out, but gave in and started scrounging for the vicodin I hoard for times like this.  I take it because it’s what my doctor gave me when I was pregnant before, and it is supposedly more safe than ibuprofen and aspririn.  Acetominaphen does nothing for me in times like this.

I wasn’t going to go on and on and on about ttc, but who am I kidding   This is the second month of clomid.  The side effects are not as strong this time, and again I had no clear indication of ovulation.  I suspect that I might have, and if I did, then I’m currently in the tww.  Waiting.  I’m planning to muster as much reserve as possible and not resort to being a poas junkie as in times past.  To my credit, I haven’t been nearly as neurotic this month, which makes for a better chance of success.  I’ve been more relaxed (for me, it’s all relative, you know).  I also think that if this month is a bust, then I won’t continue the clomid.  The hormones work a number on me, and I need to take a break.  I need to have a mammogram anyway, so if it’s a bust, I’ll schedule that as soon as this tww is over.

I can’t help but speculate (the neurotic part of me, again –or the optimist, which sounds alot better) if the sickness and headache are due to the wonders of cell division and new life taking place.  That would make it worthwhile.

I recently underwent a 9-day colon cleanse in which 5 days were spent fasting, with apple juice only to wash down the psyllium/bentonite combo formula. I’ve suckered myself into this very same thing, ten or fifteen years ago. Why, oh why, would anybody intentionally ingest clay I learned some interesting things, though.

1. I learned that I am addicted to food the way a junkie is addicted to drugs. At night, sitting on the couch next to my honey, I was fidgety and practically had to sit on my hands while I tried to keep the thoughts and desires for food at bay.
2. The things you read about on the internet, namely regarding disgusting pictures of colon cleanse results, are actually achievable with the 5-day BH fast (linked above).  Eeeeeeewwwwww.  (It hasn’t made me a believer, though.  I’m still a skeptic in that those pics might just be what one would expect bentonite and psyllium to look like on its way out, so it’s not necessarily any great achievement of internal cleansing after all.  Just normal what goes in must come out, because, after all, what goes in must come out, eventually.  And don’t even get me started on the cost of these cleansing programs.  S.U.C.K.E.R.  Yes, I parted with $100 to do this, in the name of science, health, and self-experimentation.  Need I repeat   S.U.C.K.E.R.)
3. Weight loss from 9 days with nearly no food is dramatic, to the tune of nearly 11 lbs.
4. Weight gain after resuming normal and reasonable food intake is equally as dramatic, thus, there is very little actual weight loss from such a severe, and thankfully temporary, regime.
5. I was very pleased with myself, post cleanse and pre resumed stable weight, for having succeeded in going without food for five full days, and for losing a substantial amount of weight.
6. I was very disappointed in myself for gaining any weight back.
7. I am an emotional eater. My emotions drive an intense urge for certain foods.
8. I am a recreational eater. This goes along with being an emotional eater. In a certain environment, such as relaxing on the couch to watch some TV at the end of a stressful day, I have an almost uncontrollable desire for hand-to-mouth exercise, with said hand full of something crunchy or savory.
9. Hunger has very little to do with any of this.
10. One bite of a particular food can awaken the beast. For instance, a Ritz cracker seems harmless enough. Allow one to pass the lips, and very shortly after there is an incredible desire for another. Once the simple processed flour product has begun its evil works, the desire expands itself quickly to other simple carbohydrates. One cracker is not enough. There must be toast. Or cookies. Or more crackers. Or popcorn. Or potato chips. Or whatever there might be available in the house. Or all of these. The beast is awakened and a frenzy can ensue. It takes extreme restraint to tame this beast and wait out the cravings until they subside.
11. I find this very distressing. I love good nutritious food. I eat loads of vegetables. I love whole foods. I love healthy foods. I wish that I could eat something as seemingly benign as a cracker without awakening the beast, because I really don’t want to eat a whole box of crackers. I just want to enjoy a couple. But I can’t. I can’t. Well, I can, but the restraint required is extreme. I wish that I could enjoy a reasonable amount without having to exercise restraint. I wish it were natural and automatic.
12. I don’t like being a food addict.
13. I don’t particularly want to completely remove certain foods from my life, which is what seems necessary in order to overcome, or rather, avoid spiralling into the abyss.
14. It appears that I have reached an impasse.