“It’s a helluva a day at sea, Sir!”

So whenever I hear the phrase, “helluva a day,” I always think of this line from one of the funnier B-rate movies of all time, Overboard. And it hasn’t been a helluva a day. It’s been a helluva a week. So bad, in fact, that I decided on Wednesday that I’m quitting my job. Nope, I haven’t recanted. Nor have I turned in my notice. However, I’m actively seeking employment elsewhere as of now. The straw that broke the camel’s back finally fell. And I’m done.

There was that blissful moment during my drive home when I was complaining to the Lord and I had a revelation. I’ve worked my ass off over the last two years to pay down a ton of personal debt. I was planning to work my ass off for the next year to pay off every last cent to my name… but I don’t have to. Instead, I can take a pay cut and take longer to pay it off because my monthly financial obligations are actually quite low. My work has paid off in that regard. So I’m not worried about chasing down the same paycheck I’m currently bringing home.

Further, I’ve decided to put some serious thought into whether or not I can chuck it all and go to culinary school right now. I have a couple of ideas and sent a request for contact to Le Cordon Bleu, my culinary school of choice. I’m interested in their associate degree for baking and pastry. However, I’d still like to take cuisine courses and I’m not sure how to swing that. I’m also interested in using multiple campuses, but we’ll see. I already have a loose plan regarding culinary school, but I need more information to see if it’s feasible.

Anyway, the week just went downhill from Wednesday, capped off by today’s misadventure. I awoke with a headache that progressed to a migraine as the day went by. If I hadn’t had three meetings today that I needed to attend, I would’ve gone home. But no… I had to be responsible. At least I had PT scheduled after work. And you know it’s bad when Scott presses a place on your jaw and asks, “Is that as tender as it feels?” Uh… yeah. It is. He didn’t use needles because today is Friday and he wouldn’t be able to fix anything if I had an adverse reaction to being stabbed. Instead he used his thumbs and pressed the hell out of the muscles in my shoulders, neck, jaw, and face trying to get everything to release. I’m about 25% better. Thankfully, I don’t have to cook dinner this evening… leftover homemade cream of chicken soup and biscuits. And all the painkillers in my arsenal. And let’s not forget the hot pad and my rocking chair. For the moment, I’m cuddled under the covers in my pajamas with only my blue light on.

Speaking of dinner… it’s warmed and ready for me. Next time we talk, I promise to be smiling!

Confidence v. Arrogance

The first is a great thing, the second can be dangerous.

I remember consulting with an orthopedic surgeon about eight years ago… his P.A. was great. And considering I feel like I’m being shuffled off when a P.A. is foisted on me, that’s saying something. His P.A. was thorough, compassionate, and knowledgeable. After two hours in the clinic, the surgeon finally deigned to grace me with his presence. I walked out of his office convinced there was no way in hell he was coming within 100 yards of my back. He was so arrogant I was pretty sure he’d be that doctor who left something inside me! No way, Jose. You’re not touching me with a 10-foot pole, let alone a scalpel! Step away!

The neuro who operated on my back in 2002 (yes, I turned 37 last week and had back surgery in 2002… you do the math), was incredible. She was confident in who she was as a surgeon, wife, and mother. She was approachable, but incredibly knowledgeable. My surgery was scheduled for 7:00 a.m. and was supposed to conclude around 10:00 a.m. At 11:45 a.m., a nurse came out to the waiting room to tell my parents that it ran quite a bit longer than anticipated. When she finished working on me, Dr. H sent me to recovery and went out to discuss the reason for the delay with my fam. It wasn’t anything serious… she spent the extra time cleaning up bone chips that had squirreled around so I would have no unexpected agitation nor complications. We discovered that anesthesia and I mix like oil and water and they had to keep me in the hospital for three extra days because I needed to stay hydrated via IV. Dr. H checked on me daily. In person. Not by telephone call or some other such nonsense.

What a remarkable difference between these two surgeons. One thought he was God’s gift to those with medical issues, the other saw herself as a person trained and capable of improving a patient’s quality of life.

The reason I bring this up is that I drove to Denver to see a neuro today. Nope, it wasn’t a surgical consult. I was talking to the other doctor at my physical therapy clinic, Scott’s wife Dyanna… Dy and I were talking about my medical care and my frustration with pain management over the last few years. See, I fired my pain doc two years ago. He had no use for me because I had no interest in injections/nerve blocks. I’ve had fourteen bilateral nerve blocks at L4-L5 and L5-S1. Aware of my system’s intolerance of anesthesia, I did them with only a local in my back. Nerve blocks redefine momentary pain. (You know that pain scale your nurse or doctor ask you about… “Rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10.” Well, nerve blocks are a 37.) Holy cats. It’s enough to make a grown man bawl like a baby. And whereas most patients receive months of pain relief following the procedure, I get days of relief. When doing a cost benefit analysis, the cost and discomfort are not worth the lack of relief I experience. And, they caused me to gain about 30 pounds in a hurry. Steroids will do that to a person. So my primary care physician (PCP) has been overseeing everything. That’s fine for the interim, but I need someone who is familiar with spinal issues and Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome.

Well, I got one of the two. I met with the neuro this afternoon and he’s a whiz when it comes to spinal issues. EDS? Not so much. He ordered a new lumbar MRI (which I expected) and a thoracic MRI (which I’d hoped for). On a scale of 1 to 100 with 1 being low and 100 being high, on the likability meter, he rated about an 85. He’s confident, but not arrogant. However, I’m not sure yet as to his knowledge rating. His nurse, who did the initial medical intake, rated about a 70 on my meter. I had to explain to her what EDS is and after she asked me about my range of motion in my back and I replied, “That’s part of the problem.” She contradicted me and said that’s not a problem. Uh… yeah it is. When a physical therapist or massage therapist is working on me, if I feel “normal” to them, that means I’m tight. Care to imagine how flexible my joints and spine are when I’m feeling normal?! I’m like Gumby. It’s crazy. Anyway, so the nurse rated about a 70 on the likability meter.

The office manager, on the other hand, rated about a 5. And I have zero patience for this. The MD made a suggestion that I get my MRI at the facility across the street and then just come back to his office for the follow up appointment after the fact. He thought returning to his area for a one-stop-shop was a good plan as efficiency goes. I’d only have to miss work on one day, right? Brilliant. Miss Snooty-Pattooty waltzed into the room and when I mentioned this, she informed me it’s too hard to coordinate that. I’m sorry, maybe you misheard me. Your boss–the guy who owns the clinic and signs your paychecks (or hires the person who signs your paychecks)–suggested this option… not me. I’m guessing that means he is okay with the timing. Then as I was walking down the hall to exit, I noticed the MRI was requested without contrast. I’ve had four MRIs since my surgery and all four involved contrast (radioactive dye) to highlight everything in and around the surgical scar tissue. Clearly, I’m not crazy! (Well, I might be… just not where MRIs and contrast are concerned). I went back into the office to verify this was correct. The same office manager didn’t appreciate my questions. News flash, sweetheart: If you don’t get your condescending attitude under control and develop some customer service skills, I’m going to fire your boss and I have no qualms explaining to him why I’m doing it. I’m not trying to be difficult, but I’d appreciate being treated with respect instead of intimating I’m a dullard. On the contrary… I read medical records as a part of my job and my PT prints out articles from medical journals so I can stay abreast of recommendations for coping with EDS. In the unlikely event my favorite PT and his wife keel over, I’ll not be in the dark where recommendations for treatment of my back are concerned.

I don’t think this neuro would leave something inside me, but I do think his office manager is rude. Exceptionally so, actually.

Also, going back to weigh ins on a weekly basis, I’ve lost 10+ pounds. Granted, 7.8 of those pounds came off in about three days after I stopped using my meds. <smile> If you can’t see the funny side of some things, you’re doomed to the alternative… tears.

Tomorrow I am not going to the office. Woohoo! I am, however, taking my camera (and its lenses) and headed to the guy’s house. We’re apparently having a battle of cameras. For the record, mine is better than his. Even he’ll admit that if he’s being serious. Anyway, this date is his idea. I have a loose idea where we’re headed off to. And yes, I reminded him I do not hike. Ever. Except that time in Germany. But that’s an exception (and a HUGE exception at that!) and not the rule. Me no like. At. All.

Alright, I’m fallin’ asleep sittin’ up… and that’s a bad thing. So, nighty-night!

Need I Say More?

Another great disappearing act easily explained away. Okay, so here’s the ‘splanation. No, never mind. A picture, they say, is worth a thousand words. So here you go… photographic proof that I’ve been otherwise occupied.

See, this coming Sunday is my birthday. I will be 37, in case you were wondering. Now I have rules when it comes to birthdays. Rules I take very seriously. Here they are:

1. Thou shalt not work on or around thy birthday. My birthdate is April 14, I’m off work this year from April 5-April 16.
2. Thou shalt never lie about thine age. I’ve earned every single solitary minute of every hour of every day of every year… by blood, sweat, and tears, they’re all mine!
3. Thou shalt celebrate thy birthday as frequently as possible. And I do so with gusto!
4. Thou shalt stretch thy birthday celebration out as long as humanly possible. As previously stated, my date of birth is April 14… I’ve celebrated in July, August, and October–yes, I’m serious!
5. Thou shalt have ice cream cake from Baskin-Robbins and the dinner of thy choosing; the order of which you partake of these goodies is up to the birthday person. First, the cake is very specific… roll cake with mint ‘n chip or chocolate chip ice cream and fudge for frosting. No, there are no substitutes. Don’t try to pass off Cold Stone or DQ cakes. Nothing doing! Second, I like to eat roast beef, mashed potatoes, and gravy for my birthday. Mom’s recipe only, thank you.
6. Thou shalt never turn down presents. Duh.

I actually flew home today… nope, didn’t get stuck in Salt Lake City again–thank goodness! Actually, all four legs of my flight were pretty painless. And I had a fabulous time with Ethan, Adri, and the kids. On Friday, my sister drove down and we all went out for Mexican food to celebrate my birthday. We had a great time sitting on the patio, talking and laughing as we partook of some good eats.

Sunday afternoon we bundled up the kids and headed out to the ice rink to watch Ethan’s team play their game. I had the sweet pea in my lap and handed my camera to Adri. Claire literally fell asleep as this photo was being taken, but she’s impossibly adorable in her cozy, pink bear suit. And look at that face! We couldn’t get Henrik to stand still long enough for a picture of the three of us. Ever tried wrangling a two-year-old for a picture taking opportunity? Let’s just say that if they’re not in the mood, it ain’t gonna happen.

The picture up at the top was nothing short of miraculous. But he was distracted by the bedtime story. And yes, we’re all happily in our jammies. I love the CANADA shirt because it’s as big as a tent after losing all of my weight, but it’s so dang comfortable I refuse to get rid of it!

Two highlights of my trip home… first, when I arrived, Claire would only look at me with a very serious expression. Like she was trying to figure out if I was friend or foe. She woke up this morning whilst I was preparing to head out to the airport and Adri brought her in for one last goodbye. The sweet pea was all grins. She has been for a few days, actually. I think she decided I really was her favorite Auntie Beth (a.k.a. Annie Bef if Henrik’s doing the talking), just as I’ve been telling her. I explained she also has a favorite Auntie Julie (a.k.a. Annie Jewie) and a favorite Auntie Ally (a.k.a. Uncle Ally… no, we’re not sure where he got that moniker from).

Second, my oh-so-adorable nephew was coming down with a cold last night and exhausted from a week’s worth of short naps. The poor kid wasn’t able to hold it together and was crying over the slightest things. He came into the living room after he’d had his bath and brushed his teeth to say goodnight. “I doan wan to take a nap, Annie Bef!” I know buddy, I know. So I picked him up for hugs and kisses and to tell him I’d be gone when he got up this morning because I had to be at the airport at 6:15 a.m. So I lifted him up in my arms and his legs were dangling like he was a rag doll. He had both arms around my neck with his head resting on my shoulder. One hand was twirling my ponytail–it’s a Henrik-thing that he does when he likes and feels safe with the person holding him–and the other was patting my shoulder. When I asked him for a really big hug because I was leaving, his little arms tightened up. It was precious. The kind of memory an auntie worth her salt hides away for safe keeping.

So there you have it folks. The great mystery has been solved. I’m back home now–boo. And I hustled over to PT as soon as I arrived home because lifting those two kids up and down tweaked my back and turned my pelvis… both bad. Scott worked on me today and we set up another appointment tomorrow since it’s an acute flare. I should be right as rain in no time and then I’ll detox off my meds since they are firmly in my system at the moment.

Alrighty… this little chicky is tired and needs to get to bed. Talk to you later!

Let It Snow and Blizzard and Blow!

I’m holed up in my warm house while it’s blizzarding outside. The blizzard warning started at 4:00 a.m. this morning and is in effect until sometime around midnight. What is a person to do in this situation? COOK!

Last night I went to the grocery store and Costco and picked up everything I needed to prepare a breakfast strata for this morning, homemade chicken pot pie for today, and Catalan-style beef stew tomorrow. Want to come over for dinner? The house smells incredible. I ended up with a Pajama Saturday by default. I’ve been wandering around the house and puttering in the kitchen wearing yoga pants and my Dodgers sweatshirt (that I’ve had since before I lost any weight… man, it’s HUGE, but it’s comfy!). Oh, and my hair is up in a sloppy ponytail so that it’s out of my face. Perfect for cooking in s snowstorm, right?

Work has been very busy for the past few weeks and I’ve been waging a non-stop war with my back–they’re not excuses, but they are reasons for deserting everyone. But seriously, if it’s not the low back, it’s the upper back. Thursday, Scott had to poke, prod, and push on the muscles leading to my right shoulder. Yow! It hurt! See, I was having pain that radiated from my spine into my shoulder and all the way down my arm… complete with tingling and numbness. He found the culprit and squeezed the heck out of it. That created pain near the 9/10 area. Waaay bad! Oy veh. But after all that, my upper back and shoulder felt brand new yesterday. Thank goodness for small miracles.

In between all of my cooking endeavors, I’ve watched a slew of movies… first came a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie, Loving Leah. Yes, you may ridicule all you want, it’s a completely mushy movie. Loved it. Then came Star Trek, the reboot with Chris Pine and company. Not mushy. After that was a based-on-a-true-story sports film, Glory Road, which chronicles the Texas Western integrated men’s basketball team that broke the color barrier with a splash after they fielded only their seven black players in the NCAA championship game. And won. The five white players sat out the entire game to help prove the black players were not deficient in any way. Should I be concerned that I cried over the sports movie and not the mushy movie? Sad, but true. Now I’m watching You’ve Got Mail. Don’t ask me what I’ll watch after this… I have no idea. Clearly the prior choices have been all over the place.

Dealing with my back and my meds, it’s been more mental effort than I can handle to come up with the gumption to hit the gym. It’s been weeks, I’m sorry to say. And my jeans are still tight. <sigh> Very irritating, actually. The mind is unwilling and the flesh is weak. Lose-lose. I was all geared up to start going to the gym before work this past week… then thanks to my back’s temper tantrum, I was experiencing something foreign: Poor sleep. I hardly ever have difficulty sleeping or falling asleep, unless my back is fired up or I have the flu or something else to that effect.

I do feel like my will to get back into the gym and crack down on my food choices to get my jeans back to where they’re comfortable is coming back.

Shoot… they just put the road map up on the news (yes, my movie is over)… lots of closed roads and lots of accidents because it’s an iced over world out there. Methinks I’ll stay home in my jammies and keep watching movies and cooking all kinds of stuff. Sound good? I think so.

It’s Three O’Clock in the Morning…

Well… not quite, but close. I awoke at 3:45 a.m. Not one of those I’m-awake-but-I-can-turn-over-and-go-right-back-to-sleep awakes, I’m talking BOING!-eyes-wide-open-brain-already-running-at-full-tilt awake. I laid there in the dark for fifteen minutes before accepting the fact I wasn’t going back to sleep. So I flipped on my blue lamp and pulled out a book and read for an hour. Sometimes a bit of reading will slow my brain down and let me return to slumber. Not today. Now it’s 5:15 a.m. on a Saturday morning and I’m checking in with you all. This does not bode well for a Saturday that is to be a busy day.

This week was busy as well. I didn’t leave work on time a single day this week. Tuesday and Thursday I was late to my physical therapy appointments because I couldn’t get out the door on time. Wednesday, I didn’t leave the office until 6:30 p.m.–mind you, I’m off work at 5:00 p.m. every day. Without meaning to, I logged three hours of overtime this week. Saturdays and Sundays not included (thank goodness!). Thursday night, by the time I made it to PT I had a raging headache on the right side of my head. Not the left, just the right. Scott ran a series of tests regarding balance, range of motion (ROM), and sound… all were negative. So he went to check a referral pattern chart and then returned to start pressing on my cranium. He finally pressed a muscle that triggered all kinds of pain in the effected area, basically replicating and intensifying what I was already experiencing. If you prod the bone behind your ear and follow it toward the base of your neck, you’ll feel where the bone has a shelf of sorts that drops off. The muscles in the drop off area were inflamed. Joy is mine. Next thing you know, the man is stabbing me with needles in my head. He’s stabbed me in a number of places, but this set of muscles was touchier than most. I had to control the impulses to flinch and tense (jerking suddenly isn’t advisable when someone has a needle stabbed in your person). When I got home, I took my full compliment of pain meds and they helped a bit. I still had a minor headache when I awoke yesterday morning, but thankfully it subsided on its own.

Today I have a wedding to attend… the youngest sister of my childhood best friend. It should be a riot as I’ve known many of the guests since birth–mine if I’m younger, theirs if I’m older. It’s a four-families wedding. The bride and my brother, Ethan, along with one kid from each of the remaining two families were all born within six weeks of each other. Between the sixteen kids from the four fams, it was the only time all four moms were pregnant at the same time. Curious bit of four fam trivia. The wedding should be both fun and interesting… it’s an outdoor wedding and the projected high is 41°F. Oh dear. It’s difficult to dress for long term exposure to cold temps while getting gussied up for a wedding. I’ve given up on maintaining feeling in my legs and feet, but my upper body will remain warm.

I’m planning to wear a red pencil skirt with white polka dots, my black Audrey Hepburn sweater, and black Mary Jane heels. I was talking about this with someone at work and they suggested tights. Nah. I’m not wearing tights, but I’ll have on a sexy pair of black stockings with seams up the back. Hey! If I’m going with a vintage look–which I am–I may as well go all the way. Go big or go home. Accessorizing will be fun… pearls. Don’t you dare shake your head at me! Pearls are not old lady jewelry! They are classy and beautiful. And considering the era my get-up evokes, they’re perfect. Besides, I genuinely love pearls. The only part I haven’t figured out yet is how I intend to style my hair. Hmmm… I could throw it up in a French twist with Mei-Fa sticks, something I haven’t done in ages. And I have a couple pair of sticks that involve pearls. Actually, I have a few pair (okay, I admit it… I have a lot of these!) that are red and black that would work as well… hmmm. We’ll see. Thankfully, I have my black, winter dress coat back after leaving it in Virginia in April. That and a black scarf should keep my upper body toasty if things get out of hand today. Along with my black leather gloves. While I’m not taking my big camera to the wedding, I’ll have my Canon PowerShot in my purse… I always do, for that matter (one never knows when a picture opportunity might present itself). I’m hopeful I can get a picture of the matron of honor and I. Linne and I are childhood best friends. And by childhood, I mean the days of diapers. I’m three months older than she is and we’ve known each other since I was three months old. My only real question is: Who plans an outdoor wedding for mid-October in Colorado? It’s 29°F outside as I type. We all may be popsicles before this evening is over… better make sure the hot chocolate is ready to go when I get home! I may have to warm myself from the inside out…

At least I’m not missing a football game today. USC beat Utah Thursday night (Fight On, Trojans!), freeing up my Saturday schedule from conflicts. Wasn’t that nice of them? And in honor of our cold weather, I’d like to note that my all-time favorite singer, Steven Curtis Chapman, is releasing his third Christmas album, JOY, exactly ten days from now. Since I would listen to Christmas music all year round if people let me, I’m not at all dismayed with this news. Handel’s Messiah is about the only Christmas music I can justify listening to year round because it’s classical in genre and carries through to Easter with its book. That and it’s one of the most well-known oratorios in music.

Well, I’ve successfully churned through another hour. I’ve yawned, but I’m not feeling sleepy yet… I think I’ll go eat some breakfast. Have a delightful Saturday wherever you may be!