January 19, 2008

Who has fun in surgery?!?!?

I do. I do.

No, I'm not some sort of masochist... but after the initial pain of the injection for the local anesthesia, you don't feel anything. Why not have some fun? The doctor even said he wanted to do surgery on me all the time because I was such a great patient. And the scrub nurses were actually laughing. I mean, I figure I gotta spend 1 1/2 to 2 hours with these people, we all might as well enjoy ourselves.

Random thought: "Ooh... black balloons... I get it." I'm watching goo. Don't ask. It was a blond moment if I were blond.

Anyway, surgery went well and I have a totally stylin bootie for my foot. And my stitches are blue, which is totally cool. The worst part of the surgery was the fact that I didn't eat after midnight and we weren't done until 2:10 pm. And it's kind of sucky now, because it all hurts and I'm not supposed to walk more than 15 minutes every 2 hours, I'm supposed to keep my feet up, and I can't lift more than 5 pounds. So Darren is being a trooper.

Another random thought. "Ooh... I should have named this post 'monochrome delirious' - too bad I already have a name that makes sense."

The other thing that sucks is that I need crutches and there is nobody to drive me. Because, of the people in my family that could chauffer me around, he is not around today, she went back to school, Grandma is M.I.A. and Grammy & Papa are in Florida. She's driven me around before, but she now lives in Boston. And any other friend I could call for a favor lives too far away to do so.

Random interjection: Darren got a phone call last night. Swear. To. God.
Darren: Hello.
Woman: Who dis?
Darren: Who dis?
Woman: I think I done gone and dialed the wrong number.
Darren: I think you done did.

Anyway, the pain killers are making for an interesting entry, so I will leave you with a picture (rather old) of Dylan and his Grandmas on Grandparent's Day at school. Enjoy:

Quoteth Terri | You talkin to me? | Who's talkin to me? (2)
January 19, 2008 10:34 AM

January 11, 2008

Two words that should never go together: Bone and Shaving

First, while I'm thinking about it, I just have to say this: Someone should make a movie with Josh Duhamel and Tim Olyphant where they go around the whole movie with no shirts on. I'm just saying. OOH OOH - They could do Anne McCaffrey's books and they could be F'lar and F'nor. Awesomeness. Uber hot guys and dragons all in one movie. My life would be complete. Too bad I'm too tall to be Lessa and too fat to be Brekke.

Ok. So nobody probably has a clue what I'm talking about... Anyway...

So I get to have my foot bone shaved. Yay. Had a pre-op yesterday. Yay. Going for surgery next Friday. Yay. Best case scenario, it will heal in 2-4 weeks. Worst case scenario: 3 months.

YAY-DE-FRICKIN-YAY
(that was caps, btw...)

Quoteth Terri | You talkin to me? | Who's talkin to me? (1)
January 11, 2008 03:17 PM

July 18, 2007

I love the smell of hospital in the (very very very very early) morning

A long time ago (or rather, Monday night) in a galaxy far far away (or maybe in my house)...

{Insert awesome John Williams music here}

Yeah, I'm done with the not so clever.

Monday night we were sleeping away, happy in dream land, dreaming away about things which greatly disturb me that I would try not to overanayze, but probably would anyway, if the events I'm about to recount had not occurred. Dylan started fussing around 2 am. He had been running a low-grade fever and his teeth were bothering him, so we took him up to bed with us. But for the next hour, he seemed to be writhing around in pain and whimpering and he felt like he was burning up. Now, it is not like him to fuss when he doesn't feel well, so we were worried. I called the doctor and then took Dylan down to the family room to see if he would sleep on me.

The doctor called back and after I explained to her what was going on, she sent us to the Emergency Room. I came back upstairs. Conversation:

Me: Well, it looks like we're going on a road trip.
Darren: Where?
Me: *Resisting the urge to say something sarcastic* The hospital.

I exhibited a great deal of restraint right there, the extent of which may never be fully appreciated. Anyway, We packed up and headed out. I told Darren to stay home, but he wanted to come. We checked in and after waiting an hour I sent Darren home. We went in about 15 minutes later. Dylan, of course, made friends with everyone. When they took his temperature, it was 103. We had to wait for the doctor to see him to give him Motrin. The doctor came in and ordered a chest x-ray. I said I wasn't concerned with his chest, but his stomach. So the doctor told me there was nothing wrong with his stomach. So after arguing with him for a few minutes, he checked out Dylan's stomach, which turned out to be fine.

Ok, so I was wrong this time, but I don't like or trust most doctors. I have seen too many so-called "smart" doctors make too many stupid mistakes. My experiences with the medical profession because of my father and my sister have jaded me greatly. I should have stopped partying long enough in college to study enough and continue as pre-med and become a doctor, this way I would know more and wouldn't have to rely on these mo-mos for their diagnosis. I mean, Darren was the one who finally diagnosed me with PPD. My sister's doctor tried to give her "the volcano" when it did bad things to her and castor oil worked better. I mean, the list could go on and on.

/digression

So we got some Motrin and went for a chest x-ray. Good times. Dylan did not want a chest x-ray. It would appear to anyone watching the scene that we were tourturing the poor child. So after multiple attempts, we finally got an acceptable X-ray and we went back to our little half of a room and lay down on our little gurney and Dylan fell asleep. This was around 6:30.

Close to 7:00, the doctor came in with the results of the x-ray and said Dylan's chest looked clear and they were sending him home. (Have I mentioned that I hate hospitals and doctors. I mean, come on, they still didn't know what was wrong with him). My pediatrician had told me not to let them discharge us without talking to her, so I conveyed the message to the doctor. He called the pediatrician and came back and said she wanted to follow up in the office. So I said fine, and they discharged us.

Miraculously, as we were being let go, Darren walked through the door. Conversation:

Me: How'd did you know to come here?
Darren: I woke up and came.
Me: Oh.

So we went home and followed up at the doctor. She did not like Dylan's x-ray so he's on antibiotics now. I'm so glad we put tubes in his ears so he didn't have to be on antibiotics anymore.

He's feeling better today, but yesterday was rough. We did a lot of sleeping and a lot of fussing. But today is better.

I would just like to add one thing about doctors. There are a few doctors that I absolutely love. Dylan's pediatrician is one of them. She was my pediatrician until I turned 21 and she told me I couldn't come anymore. As soon as I knew I was pregnant, I tracked her (and her practice) down and made sure they would take Dylan as a new patient. My OB is another doctor that is awesome. Recently he was very sick and I told Darren that we couldn't have any more kids if he didn't get better because nobody else was cutting me open. He is the awesomest OB. I also like my GYN, but I'm still bitter about him not being an OB anymore and passing me off to someone else. (Of course, that someone else was my OB, so it all worked out, but still...). And my dentist rules.

Basically, it's hospital doctors that I don't like. I may not know medicine, but I certainly know my body and my child better than you do. But they just won't listen.

*sigh* Alright, I'm done with my medical rant.

Quoteth Terri | You talkin to me? | Who's talkin to me? (1)
July 18, 2007 09:54 AM

November 17, 2006

A Difficult Admission

The signs were all there, but everything was explained one way or another. Eventually, it got to the point that it could no longer be denied. A trip to a therapist confirmed it: I am suffering (and suffering is the perfect word) from depression. And anxiety.

I mean, what normal mother is relieved when their baby is admitted into the hospital? Or can't go to church because they don't feel like getting dressed? Or can only drag themselves into the shower when their husband makes them? Or breaks into hysterics at work? Or counts down the days until they can put their baby in daycare?

The thought of having to get out of bed in the morning makes me so agitated that I get sick to my stomach. I manage not to throw up with the help of some nice drugs and by telling myself that I don't have to get up. I can just stay in bed all day if I want. Luckily I have supportive and loving people around me who have pretty much taken on all of my responsibilities, so I can stay in bed all day if I want. Thankfully, by the evening I'm usually feeling better and can at least get up and help out a little - washing bottles, cleaning up dinner.

I've lost close to 10 lbs in the past week and a half. Yes, I needed to lose weight, but not like that.

Why am I putting this out there? Because, maybe, someone will read this who is also suffering from depression and know that it's normal. Well, not normal, but it's how depression feels. I thought depression would just be sitting around crying all day, but I cry a lot less than I would have expected. Mostly, it's just complete apathy towards life. I don't want to to anything. I don't even watch TV - it's on, but my head is turned and I'm pretty much ignoring the TV. Everything is an effort. Just typing this up took a huge amount of willpower to just sit here.

I thought about getting a manicure the other day and it just seemed like too much effort.

I don't want anybody to feel bad, or worry about me. I just want people who read this, if someone else feels this way, maybe I can help them. Because this really truly sucks. A lot. And if I can help someone else (not that lots of people read my blog) catch this earlier so it doesn't get to this point for them, well, that's why I'm doing this.

And anyone who says depression isn't real and people should "snap out of it" - let me tell you, I wish I could.

Quoteth Terri | You talkin to me? | Who's talkin to me? (5)
November 17, 2006 04:24 PM

November 13, 2006

why terri didn't go to church yesterday

i had to go to CVS to fill some prescriptions yesterday morning. I went at 8:30, but they don't open til 9:00 on Sunday. Here is the stream of conscious that followed on my walk back to the car and subsequent drive home:

Ooh, it's Sunday - I forgot it was Sunday... Church is on Sunday. I could go to church. I think I want to go to church. I think church would help me feel better. I wouldn't even have to bring Dylan. Darren could watch Dylan. I could just go to church... Oh, but if I go to church I probably would have to change (I was wearing darren's t-shirt and cotton capri pants and sneakers w/o socks). And people would want to talk to me. I don't want to talk to anyone, I just want to go sit in church and be left alone... Ok, forget church. *sigh* Oh wait, I could walk down the street to that church. They're catholic; they won't try to talk to me. I wouldn't even have to get in the car. I could just walk. Oh...but I'd still probably have to change my clothes. Oh well. Forget it.

So I went home and lay down instead.

Quoteth Terri | You talkin to me? | Who's talkin to me? (0)
November 13, 2006 08:08 AM

November 10, 2006

Another Happy Trip To The Hospital

This is quick because I'm backposting.

Went to work this (Friday) morning. Puked at work. Lay down at the nurse for 1/2 hour. Puked again. Went home. Puked some more. Went to doctor. Puked some more at doctor. Doctor sent me to ER. Puked some more in ER. Got an IV and some nausea medicine. Got a CT scan. Nothing seriously wrong with abdomen. Need to do more tests. I was feeling better. They asked me if I wanted to be admitted or do tests outpatient. I said admitted. Doctor came back and said they can't admit me if there is nothing wrong with me. Puked some more then so they gave me another anti-nausea shot and sent me home.

Quoteth Terri | You talkin to me? | Who's talkin to me? (0)
November 10, 2006 08:04 AM

November 07, 2006

Back in the Saddle

So since I'm not bitching about my medical problems and my life over at the baby blog anymore, you can expect to see more of me around here.

For anyone that hasn't been following my medical dramas over here, I've had numerous episodes of waking up nauseous, puking and other such wonderful gastrointestinal problems.

No, I am NOT pregnant. Yet, that is the first thing the doctors ask.

So, if I'm not pregnant, what is the problem? Well, the first episode was strange: nausea, vomiting, but no fever. The next time it was accompanied by a high fever and sore throat that didn't go away after a week. The doctor checked for mono, and it turns out I have mono. The cure? Lots of rest. Ha. That'll happen.

About a week later, I had another episode. Went back to the doctor. Got good drugs that stopped the nausea. But it kept happening. And I needed more drugs, so I needed to go back to the doctor.

Well, already long story short, it turns out all these wonderful medical problems (except the mono) are being caused by stress and anxiety. I told the doctor last night that I felt stupid. I mean, if it were medical, that would be one thing, but missing weeks of work because you've worried yourself sick - that's just silly. I told the doctor I felt like I did it to myself, but he was very nice about it and said that I had a lot of things happen to me over the past year and sometimes it catches up with your body.

So what's happening now? I still have to go to the gastroenterologist and I still have to go for more bloodwork to make sure it's not something else seriously wrong with my stomach. But the doctor gave me Xanax to take as needed for anxiety (because I also wasn't sleeping) and I have to go to therapy. Luckily they have a program at work where I get a free 8 sessions of therapy and then I think after that it's somewhat covered by insurance.

But last night I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't fall back to sleep even though I'd taken a pill at 10. I took another pill but it did nothing. I ended up throwing up when I got to work and then a half hour later I ended up crying in the bathroom for a half hour for no apparent reason. Well, I'm sure there are lots of reasons, but it wasn't like I was thinking about them. I was just crying. But now, strangely enough, I feel better. I think the crying may have been cathartic.

I think part of it is lack of exercise. I love exercise. I used to get stressed and go downstairs and tap dance for three hours and feel better. I used to get stressed and go run a mile or two. Now I don't have the time plus I'm not allowed to exercise because of the stupid mono.

But there is an end in sight. Starting in the new year, once the mono is all gone, I will start training because I've made a deal with my brother that we're doing two 5K runs in the fall. I'm so excited to start training again. I think it will help a lot.

It's just hard because there has been a lot of stressful events - both good and bad - in my life in the past year, but in addition to that, all my hobbies - all my means of escape - have been taken from me. I don't dance anymore. I don't do shows anymore. I don't scrapbook anymore. I don't run anymore. I don't write anymore. So not only has life thrown me a couple of curveballs, but my means of dealing with said curveballs have been taken away from me.

But I will get through this. I have a very supportive husband who has been infinitely helpful. And bitching to my brother about all this has helped too, even though he probably doesn't realize how much it's helped. And I'm sure going to therapy will help too.

Wonderful welcome back post, huh?

Quoteth Terri | You talkin to me? | Who's talkin to me? (5)
November 7, 2006 10:05 AM

July 22, 2004

The Stages of Sunburn

I have now entered the third stage of sunburn: PEEL

I got out of the shower today to find huge hunks of skin falling off my body. And what super timing! My show opens tomorrow, and everybody knows there is nothing more attractive on stage than someone in naught but a leotard with what appears to be leprosy. I'm sure the boys will come a-runnin'.

Seriously, though, what is it about water that makes your skin fall off? Pre-shower I was fine; post shower, I'm molting. What gives? Or maybe it's that cellulite cream I've been applying religiously to tone my thighs so that I don't look like a porker in previously mentioned leotard. Maybe it thins your legs by removing skin instead of fat. Wouldn't that just be a law suit waiting to happen!

Good lord, it just keeps coming!! How many layers of skin do I have exactly??

Quoteth Terri | You talkin to me? | Who's talkin to me? (1)
July 22, 2004 05:01 PM