Down day today

Down day today - my body is still giving me mega-grief about Utah (or at least about the airport), I somehow managed to gain 15 pounds (yes, that's 15) over the weekend (I'm thinking it's probably water weight, but we'll see...) and Moose is still not feeling well - or at least, he's not a spring pup.  He might just not have forgiven me yet for leaving him alone - for example, he'll head over to the moosecave, but he keeps looking back every four or five steps, just to make sure that I realize he's not going to be loving on me.  He doesn't seem to be feeling as much pain, but he's still stressed out.

Great Weekend

Although, I'm a little wiped out.  My weekend started out with a half-mile walk through the PDX airport.  Fortunately, I was then rewarded by having the plane half-filled by members of the San Antonio Talons arena football team - mega eye candy, all strolling past my seat in the front of the plane.

The family gathering was Saturday - I'll write more about that when I've had a chance to process it.  It was lovely to see everyone, though and to see how everyone is growing.

Sunday, I got to spent time with two of my favorite guys in the world (Don and Jeff), including a wonderful cheese tasting (if you ever get a chance, check out Uncle Ron's cheese - I really recommend the dill).   

What I wouldn't recommend is the Baymont Inn.  About the best thing you could really say for it is that it was clean, but the beds were basically rocks, things kept breaking down (the ice machine, my hair dryer, all the electric outlets in my room), and there was absolutely no sound baffling at all - Saturday night I was kept up by the people in the room above me practicing what had to have been tantric sex, since it went on for over an hour.  While I admire their stamina, I just wanted to go to sleep.

Getting out of Dodge for the weekend

And feeling really, really conflicted about it. Saturday is Grandma's 96th birthday party, and a family gathering to celebrate her. Roger, Mom and I have tickets and are heading out tomorrow morning at way too freaking early - it's the first trip I've taken since Hank came into my life.  I was already sort of dreading and really looking forward to the trip, but then Moose threw a spanner in the works. 

He's had a couple more of his little spells, and I'm feeling awful about leaving him - but then again, I'm leaving him with his Uncle Daniel, who has a) power of attorney over him with my vet; and b) knowledge of where the sausages are kept, and the ability to run the microwave.  I've talked with the vet, and there's nothing that can be done immediately that we're not already doing, Moose is already going to be seeing the vet Saturday with Daniel for his laser treatment...  but yet, I'm still feeling like my presence is the only thing keeping Moose from keeling over immediately.  I know, stupid thought, but you can't argue with your gut. 

I'm going to try to let go and enjoy the weekend.  For one thing, I need to see my family again (and Mom tells me that they need to see me as well).  At this point, there's no way to reschedule this - that's not an option.  I'm just going to have to let the gut (and the guilt) know it's not going to be running my life (this time.) 

Moose's Bummer Trip

We finally got Moose back in to actually see his veterinarian - turns out I was right to be worried about him.  Looks like while we were getting him treated for the back issues, he either developed a neck issue, or had a minor stroke - his whole right side is not working correctly (his front leg is knuckling, the back leg is dragging, his right eye is drooping slightly. 

They're putting him on a course of Prednisone to see if some of the pressure on the nerves can be reduced, and we'll see what happens - but I could use any mojo you can send my boy's way. 

Adventures in Shoe-Shopping

In yet another of my99th percentile-ism, I hate shoe shopping.  I mean, ever since I started my stint as a professional buyer, the glow of shopping has faded - it's like being a prostitute, once you go pro, the amateur stuff loses its shine - but shoe shopping has always been the worst.  For one thing, my feet are a size 11 double wide, so forget finding some cute little sexy strappy things.  But my feet also tend to inflate and deflate during the day like they were filled with helium. And then there's the sweat - does anyone else have feet that sweat enough to make them embarrassed to let anyone else see them?  Anyway, I don't shoe shop unless forced. 

But we're heading over to the family reunion next weekend, and Kimo spent all that time prettifying my feet (purple toenails and all), so Mom managed to drag me into Jay's Wide Shoes.  Miracle of miracles, we found a good salesguy, and he had us in and out in less than 20 minutes - I found a good pair of sandals, a nice pair of work shoes and a really neat pair of mottled purple and blue sandals.  Much, much easier than I thought it would be - of course, Roger found himself a couple of pair of shoes next door at Pay-Less for about a tenth of what I paid, but on the other hand, I can live with paying the money to get some good shoes and not have to do this again for a couple of years. 

The Sisterhood of Purple

Another adventure at the pool - finished up my 20 channels, got back to the locker room, and this little 3 or 4 year old girl complimented me on my swimsuit ("Purple!  My favorite color!")  She then noticed my toenails (recently lacquered by the amazing Kimo - if you live in Portland, I highly recommend the woman), got even more excited ("More purple!  Look, Mom!").  At that point, she then reached my hair (recently re-purpled by Kerin), and I believe she had a little baby stroke.  I suspect that I made the girl's day, if not year - and may have caused a problem for her parents once she reaches an age where she can reach the hair dye shelves.  My work here is done.

It's been a heck of a week

So far, we've had my scan results (moderately troubling, but not an immediate big deal), and Moose's issues - we've started him on the laser treatments, but he's still hurting.  In fact tonight, he was hurting enough that he was not interested in food - he's really starting to worry me.  Then there was kicking  Comcast to the curb, which involved change (and you all know how I feel about change).  Then we got to Friday.

Friday was going to be a busy day, regardless - Mom wanted us to get prettified before we headed to Utah, and I had an appointment beforehand, but Kimo figured out that if I came in at 12:00 (and she brought a chainsaw) she could get my toes done before Kerin tackled my hair at 1:30, then Mom could get her toes done... which all went out the window when Mom went to her doctor's appointment to consult on the rogue tissue they found last November.  They found a lump, which meant she had to go for an emergency ultrasound and a mammogram (so much for getting her pedicure!)  Fortunately, it was a false positive, but there was a period there where I have to admit to a bit of a freak out.  Frankly, I think Mom needs to stop going to the doctor. 

Things eventually worked out, and we both got spruced for the trip, but it was a long day.  But we figured hey - we'll do a nice brunch for Mother's Day, go out to Old Wives Tale since everyone could stay within dietary restrictions there, decompress...  Got to OWT only to find out that this restaurant that has lasted 34 years in Portland's ever-changing restaurant atmosphere... closed permanently May 5th.  We all took this as God saying that with the week we had, we were allowed to go to Pig 'n' Pancake.  Some weeks, you just gotta have one classic diner meal to restore your sanity.

Update - Scan Results - Puppy Palette Cleanser

It's never good when you get a call from your nurse saying "Now, this is probably nothing to worry about..." Apparently, this last scan, there was some metabolic activity seen in the osseous structures of the pelvis and spine - (basically, Hank may be spreading to the bone).  However, since there weren't any cancerous lesions seen in those areas, they think that this is just an incidental thing, not important or significant, just something we need to keep an eye on.  I'm not worrying (like fun, I'm not worrying - my head isn't worried.  My spleen, on the other hand, is fretting to beat the band.)

So...  there's that.  On the other hand, there's Moose, who went through the first of his "cold laser" treatments for his back, and has been stoned out of his freaking gourd all day.  Not too stoned to bark his head off at the cable guy, you understand - but stoned enough that he preferred to bark from the safety of his mother's lap.  Dixie was trying to take up the slack, but she would bark some, forget what it was that she was barking about, then 5 minutes later remember that there was an intruder, bark a little more (wash, rinse, repeat) - she just doesn't have the dedication necessary. 

Group thoughts

I haven't been going to group lately, a fact that Mom has been happy to point out to me.  I, of course, maintained firmly that I've just been busy, things to do, nothing big, it hasn't been that long... you know, the usual Cleopatra, queen of denial.  The fact that given the choice I went swimming rather than face the group should have been a clue for me.  But no, I refused to look, until I heard that there were rumors that I had gone off my diet and was too embarrassed to show my face made me exam why I was avoiding the group (no, it's not the diet thing!)

I realized I had not gone back to group since Larry died, almost a month ago.  It's not that Larry was a good friend of mine - he was a good man, a loving husband, a solid, steady presence, but not a close friend.  So it wasn't mourning him that was keeping me away - it was my fear of change.  I can't stand it when people around me change, especially those who feel like father figures.  Larry felt very much like a patriarch to me - the first day we met, I mentioned that I was reading Zealot by Reza Aslan (it's a book examining the life of Jesus), and the next week, he brought me a copy of the New Testament, because he was worried about my soul.  I felt like going to group and sitting there without him across from me would cement the fact that he's gone.  More than that, it would send home the fact that this is the nature of the group - this isn't a book club.  These are all people (including me) with a potential death sentence, and Larry is just the first.  I know, life itself comes with a death sentence, but for us, it's been firmed down a little. 

Kicking Comcast to the curb

Just letting everyone know that my phone number is going to be changing tomorrow (family, you can always leave a message on Mom's phone, and I'll try to send out an email blast to everyone once I know the digits). Two months of  having to reset the modem every other minute has finally gotten to me, and since Comcast's response has been to blame my router, rather than figure it out, I'm going back to *gag* CenturyLink. 

Part of me wishes I could keep the old number, but I'm also hoping like hell that I get out from under the computer-generated "This is XXXX with card services calling with an important announcement about your current credit cards".  I get one of them at least every other day, and they spoof the phone numbers, so I can't just not pick up the phone.  There should be a special place in hell for the guys who think up these scams (note, I'm not saying the people working the phones - in this economy, I can understand being desperate, but their bosses need punishment badly.)

More observations from the pool

I'm up to 20 laps of the channel now - 16 forward, 4 back (those back ones - the ones against the current - kick my butt.)  The thing that I love the most, though, is watching the little toddlers with their parents.  Somehow, I don't think that I'm going to be able to convince Mom to stand in the water and let me jump into the pool on her, though.  Every once in a while, they break off and the whole class comes and floats around the channel for a couple of laps - it's kind of the equivalent of an obstacle course for the pool.

The dressing room is always an education in the diversity of the human body - on one side of me is this young woman who could be starring in a Zumba infomercial pulling on her Victoria Secret thong, and then on the other side of me is an 85 year old grandmother picking her breasts up off her navel to stuff them into her orthopedic bra.  Then, there's the 50ish woman sitting absolutely starkers on the bench on her cell phone talking about a real estate deal she's working.  I am truly grateful for the technical advances we've made this past 50 years - heck, it's kept me alive, but that offends my sense of propriety.  You should not be able to transact any business that would require a bank loan without having to put a minimal amount of clothing on. 

Why do doctors do this?

I'm going to be looking for a different sleep apnea doctor.  I'd sent my current sleep apnea doctor an email saying that I'd been suffering from fatigue (yep, it's still an issue), and that I'd like to at least get my machine checked and perhaps get a new sleep study, since I've lost 145 pounds in the past year.  Now, keep in mind this is Kaiser, so she has access to everything in my chart, and it's been a couple of weeks since I sent the email to her (in her defense, she was on vacation). 

She started off with "sometimes if you don't sleep well at night, it can lead to fatigue".  Right.  I've been dealing with sleep apnea for over 10 years now = when I say fatigue, I'm not talking a little "didn't sleep well, so I'm drowsy".  I'm talking sleeping 12 - 14 hours a day and still being tired.  Which she would know, if she'd look at my chart.  But that's not the big thing that frustrated me.  She closed with "I hope you have undertaken a daily exercise program, as that can be so important to weight loss".  What, 145 pounds in a year wasn't enough for you?  Second, you are not my general practitioner, you're not my nutritionist, you're not involved in my weight loss plan in any way.  Why do you feel it necessary to bring this up in a brief email? 

I've dealt with this all my adult life - going in to a doctor with the flu and having them bring up my weight, generally in a "did you know that weight can affect your immune system?" kind of way.  I suspect people who smoke get the same thing  - oh, you broke your ankle?  Did you know that smoking can decrease your healing potential?  We get it - we've got bad habits, you feel entitled to shame us for them.  But when I'm actively working to cure that bad habit, continuing to shame me is not acceptable.  Sorry, Dr. F, but I'm firing you. 

Frustrations with faith

Genetically, I'm Mormon.  My ancestors pushed everything they owned across the Great Plains to Utah to help found the church - in fact, my ancestors were that special kind of committed Mormons who were told to go down south to the desert and try to grow cotton and didn't respond with "are you kidding?" My family is all Mormon (ok, Mom took a break from the church for about 30 years, but she came back to the faith).  In my soul, most of the beliefs ring true - families are forever to me, we are eternal souls, and this body is just a pitstop on the way to better things, teachings of the church are for everyone to discover and distribute, not just for a priest class to hand down from on high...  I should be one of the faithful. 

But I can't manage to bring myself to do it.  Every time I think that the Church elders are finally going to come to their senses and stop concentrating on homosexuality, some new article in the Ensign or some speaker in Sacrament meeting reminds me that they've only come so far as to acknowledge that homosexuality itself doesn't damn you, only the practical application does.  Oh, they'll say that any sex outside of marriage is a sin, but then they fight tooth and nail (and millions of dollars) to make sure same-sex marriage does not pass.  Why are they concentrating on identifying and trumpeting about that which divides us, rather than that which brings us together?  And with all the science that has proven that sexuality is innate, not taught, why concentrate on this particular trait?  Someone can not be damned for having blue eyes or for being left-handed - why just this one particular set of genetic code?

Speaking of genes...  My mother is one of the most inquisitive, intelligent, thoughtful women I know.  She has immense gravitas and did a spectacular job serving as the officiant for Brigid's wedding - there were a few tears (not just mine).  She would make a fantastic member of the bishopric if it weren't for the lack of that "Y" gene.  She's not alone - many of the women in my family are strong both in their faith and in their talents.  It makes no sense to me for a church to sideline half of its talent this way, or shunt them off to running the Relief Society. 

So, I'm a woman without a country - or at least without a church.  No other church feels right to me, but yet, the LDS church doesn't feel like I'm right for it.  Fortunately for me, my family does not shun me for this - they seem to love me despite my being the neon-pink sheep of the family. 

Observations from the pool

We went swimming again today - note to self, do not go on a weekend.  You can not handle that level of "happy noises of young children" (or as I refer to it, natural birth control).  It was lovely to see how many fathers were there with their kids, though - it was maybe half and half mothers and fathers. 

After slogging around the course for my 16 repetitions (and cursing the obnoxious girl hanging onto a lilypad and splashing/kicking in the current pool - the whole point is you don't have to propel yourself, which means you're just doing this to annoy me, young wench!  And get off my lawn.), we went to warm up in the hot tub.  We ended up sitting between this older couple (maybe late 60s?) and a young couple.  The young guy was giving the girl a bit of a backrub, and it was pretty obvious that they were newly dating - they didn't have the ease of anyone who has actually seen the other one naked.  I was tempted to tell her that backrubs are nice, but look for a guy who's going to be around to help you out of the hot tub when you're my age and don't fit into a bikini, or be willing to trudge around the channel pool, getting splashed by obnoxious children, just to try to get you healthy enough to stay around a few more years.  That's a guy worth keeping.

I'm back and running

Thank goodness for emergency back-up husband #1 (otherwise known as Kevin the computer-whisperer).  Mad as hell at Comcast - they were less than helpful to say the least.  I'm seriously thinking about switching, but the whole objection to DirecTV still exists (I don't want to lose service to rain), but it would still be better than being without internet for 3 days. 

In other news - I'm starting swimming/channel-walking with Mom to try to get in surgery-strength.  I'm upping it by two laps each time - up to 14 now and my legs feel like noodles tonight (that, and the chlorine in the pool dries my skin out to the point where it feels like there are ants running up and down inside my skin.)

Stand back! I think she's going critical!

Today's rant is brought to you courtesy of Comcast and Kaiser Permanente - both lovely companies, I'm sure, but who really don't have a clue when it comes to automated Customer Service. 

First off - Comcast.  I have my phone, internet and cable all bundled through them (I know, I could probably get it cheaper somewhere else, but I tried DirectTV and I kept losing my TV every time there was a heavy rain or it got windy.  I live in Oregon, where the two seasons are the rainy season and July 14th, and I live right off the west end of the Columbia Gorge, better known as the wind tunnel of the great Northwet..  That's a non-starter.) 

I've been having this intermittent issue where the modem suddenly decides that it can't see my wireless router and I lose internet service (and occasionally my phone line).  It's frustrating, but I've been able to get through by cycling the modem and the router and blahblahblahblah... anyway, today I'd finally had it and wanted to get the darn thing fixed.  So, I break down and call Comcast.  Why did it take me so long to call?  Because I knew what I was going to have to go through to get to a live person.  First off, I'm calling from my home line - the one they provide me with.  They still require me to jump through hoops to get to anyone.  First, I have to provide them with the last four digits of my account number.  Quick, off the top of your head, without being able to access the internet (because it's down, of course), do you know the last four digits of a random utility account number that you autopay every month?  Then, of course, I have to listen to them yammer on about how I can check the status of the internet service by going to comcast.com - yeah, did I mention that I'm calling BECAUSE MY INTERNET DOESN'T WORK?  And it's not like this is a random thing they throw in on every line - this bit doesn't come up until after I tell this computer that my internet isn't working.  Then, of course, because they still don't trust that this person who is calling in on my phone line, which they provided to me, is actually me, I have to give them my home address, the last four numbers of my SSN and the name of my unborn firstborn child. All before I actually talk to someone, who is then going to have to pass me along to the second level customer service because frankly at this point, I know more about my modem than they do.  A second level customer service rep who has to ask me for my name, address and SSN yet again.  This is not customer service.  This is customer prevention.  On the other hand, Matthew (who had a lovely southern accent) was a peach and did his best to fix my problem, then when he realized my modem is possessed by Satan, was happy to set up someone to come out tomorrow.  That part of the customer service was lovely...

As for Kaiser - I can't complain all that much about them, they're keeping me alive.  But considering the fact that they are keeping me alive, and that they know damn well all my medical issues, don't send me a yearly personalized computer letter saying "Do you know you need a pap smear, and that you should have your A1C checked, and that you should get a BMI screening" (seriously, a BMI screening?  I've lost 145 pounds this year - what do they want from me, carving off a couple of butt cheeks?)    Then the computer has the nerve to finish up with "Managing your health is important to us.  This is a personalized summary of your health care needs".  No, it's not a personalized summary - or they would know that I have a form of uterine cancer that isn't detectible by a pap smear, and I had a A1C screening in mid-March.  Kim, who keeps watch on me and cheerleads for me, or my own Dr Wang, who answers my emails even when I'm a little incoherent  - they are personalized care and I love and appreciate them.  A random listing of tests that are not even checked with my chart - that's just an annoyance that's perpetrated so that Kaiser Corporate can cross off some "proactive health agenda" list.  Don't try to think it's customer service - I'm not the one getting served here.

It's not Hollywood romantic

It's not Hollywood romantic, lying here next to you. 
For one thing, there's Moose the weiner-block, shoved up between us, zealously guarding his status as an only child.  And I'm pretty sure that Hollywood would never approve a heroine wearing a breathing-mask that makes her sound like Darth Vader - whooshing breath sounds that are only drowned out by the dual snores coming from both man and Moose. 

But every once in a while, when the alarm blares out, we manage to carve out 9 minutes where we are curled together in a cocoon of warmth, and I can feel our breathing in perfect unison.  Your arm is protective around me, keeping back the horrors of the coming morning, and that... right there.  It's not Hollywood romantic, but it's so much better. 

Not-So-Happy Anniversary, Hank.

It's a year.  It's been an interesting year, but at least I made it through, and I'm intending to keep making it through, so... (close your eyes, family and anyone who still thinks of me as a delicate flower) F you, Hank, and the cancerous cells you rode in on.

Eat hearty, dude - you're going down!

Next step - getting my heart in shape for surgery, finding out what the hell is causing my fatigue and beating that, and trying to get my blood sugar back under control.  Three days with a half-dose of the Megace, and I seem to be ok, so I'm hoping that will help, but I woke up last night around 2:00 with a blood-sugar level of 69, so there's still going to be some fine tuning involved.  My doctor spun this as a positive thing - if Hank is to start growing, at least I'm at the point now where they can get him out, but they just want to optimize my chances of being healthy after the surgery - but I'm still having a hard time getting over the disappointment. But I will. 

Placeholder Post

I'll write more later, but for tonight, I'm emotionally wiped out and heading for bed.  Just wanted to let anyone following along not on facebook know that the Dr. appointment did not quite go the way I hoped it would (still no surgery date), but I'm battling past the disappointment and trying to take this as a good thing.  Basically, right now, since Hank isn't redecorating yet and is choosing to play relatively nice with others, she wants to work on getting me healthier so that I have a better shot at surviving the surgery - work on trying to figure out what's causing this extreme fatigue and see if cutting back on the Megace will help me get my blood sugar under better control.  I'll see her again around the first of June, and we'll see what happens then.

Updatish...

Tomorrow is the day... I'm meeting with Dr. Steiner, and finding out when I will be going under the knife (and which kind of knife it's going to be.)  I'm a tad freaked out tonight - ok, I'm tremendously freaked out.  Spending the last year on knife-edge, waiting... it's not that I don't want to move on, it's just that I've gotten comfortable on this knife-edge.  Well, not exactly comfortable, but I know how to react here, I know where I am, I know this space.  And I really, really hate change. 

On the other hand, I want to get Hank out of me.  I think I hate Hank more than I hate change.  But that's going to be hard, and painful, and involve a lot of change.  It's not like I'm going to not do this, but I'm just feeling scared.  And tired.  But mostly scared.