Not exactly a post but…

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No, I didn’t die.

I’m sure you’ve noticed that I haven’t posted in a while. And it’ll be a bit longer until I start back up again.

My jaw surgery is on April 10th and up until that time, it is taking every single fucking ounce of stamina, strength, endurance, whatever to make it through a work day. I spend the majority of the weekend in bed. The pain level in my jaw, radiating into my neck, shoulders, upper back, head and now even my arms and lower back has completely taken over my brain. I can just barely muster up enough brain power to get through a work day. I am miserable because I am the perfectionist/the over-acheiver/anal-retentive/ambitious/zealous/meticulous/diligent/insert other word for anal-retentive here and although I seem to be doing an adequate job, it’s nowhere near the standards I set for myself.

By the time I get home, I have little to no patience with the girls, I’m snappy and irritated with The Zen Master, I’m exhausted and angry and tired of feeling like a goddamn victim. Not to mention the fact that I feel totally and competely useless. I can’t even bend over to pick up The Peach, it’s pathetic. Princess Punk was horsing around the other night and made the mistake of touching my face (she was actually wiping Peach drool on me) which threw me into a weeping ball on my bed, curled up and shaking. By the time I was sane enough to sit up, my poor daughter was sitting resolutely next to me trying very very hard not to cry because she hurt me. I felt so shitty for being such a freaking drama queen that my reaction (involantary as it may have been) made my teenager feel so bad that she wanted to cry. I had a muscle spasm at the base of my head so bad the other night it caused a knot that was so hard it felt like my skull was actually protruding in that spot. As in the muscle was so tight that it felt like part of the bone. And as I sat on my bed trying really hard not to cry, The Peach wiggled over to me and said “Mommmama?” and (somewhat awkwardly) rubbed my back.

So I basically come home from work, lay down on the couch and play on my phone. I generally don’t even have enough thought coherence to play solitare or Words With Friends, I just play stupid jewel drop or bubble pop-type games while I wait for the valium to kick in enough that I can bear to put my head down on the pillow.

And so that’s it. I’m unlikely to post again until the surgery. My surgeon assures me that other than the general post-op pain I should have some immediate relief. The arthroplasty on the left side will be more involved and take some more healing time, but he said that about 85% of people who undergo that surgery have an almost complete resolution of pain. The right side pain will resolve completely but may only be temporary since the problem is actual bone deterioration and may continue to worsen over time to the point where I will need a complete joint replacement in a few years. But he said that’s not always the case and the left sided repair will likely prevent more bone loss on the right since the actual joint mechanism will be more normal. And even if it did get worse it would be a couple years down the road before it became an issue again.

So basically, I have 2 more weeks. And I’m going to suck it up till then. But I’m not going to post. Because if I have enough brain power/energy to do that, I’d really rather use it on my family.

See ya’ll soon!

Sonuvabich

The Zen Master just got home from work…

“You jinxed me. I’m all achy and my stomach hurts.”

Then he stumbled into the bedroom.

Yay.

Beware! Quarantine!

The Peach has some kind of systemic infection. Started on Wednesday with the puking as previously conveyed. Next, my youngest became a grumpy troll who was sure we were about to tear down her bridge. Either that or passed out like someone slipped her a roofie. Then a low grade fever, hovering around 100°. Yesterday afternoon, mild rash on her belly and fever suddenly shot up to 103.6°. With the ear thermometer. Which always reads low.  Rushed to the doc while forgetting I left the oven on at 400° with chicken in it. Ears clear, throat red but clear from any obvious infection, belly soft, eyes OK. Throat swab negative for strep. PA brings in the doc because “I can’t find anything to treat her for but I don’t want to send you home without treating her.”  Doc comes in, another thorough exam, throughout which The Peach is morosely silent, sort-of-diagnosis of likely bacterial infection, probably strep but in her system, not localized. Antibiotic and home with a list of scary symptoms that would necessitate an ER visit. Luckily, whatever it is is getting it’s ass kicked by the antibiotics and while she is still kinda lethargic, her mood is better and her fever, while not gone, is considerably better. She’s passed out now.

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Princess Punk started complaining about stomach cramps when I got her up for school yesterday. Naturally, I assumed she wad just trying to get out of going to class and told her she could stay at My Mom’s with the baby if she relinquished her phone and nook. When she agreed with minimal objection, I realized this was not a fake and brought both the girls to My Mom’s, fully intending to go to work though I felt like I’d been run over by a Mac truck. When I told The Princess that, she asked me what a Mac truck was and I told her it was an eighteen-wheeler.

“Oh. Like Optimus Prime.”


“Yup. I feel like Optimus Prime picked me up then slammed me on the ground like he just made a touchdown.”

Anyway… Off to Mom’s where I realized my charming Princess had left the majority of her diabetes paraphernalia at home. Stomped out, went home, got her crap, went back to my car and called in to work. Back to Mom’s and spent the day with My Mom, a grumpy Peach and a sleeping Princess. Princess Punk slept all friggin day, ate about 2 bites of food and her blood sugar didn’t drop below 200 all day. Trace ketones. I forced her to drink as much water as possible when she was conscious, checked her blood sugar every 2 hours and administered insulin as needed. Fever of 101.3° by late afternoon. This morning, no fever but body aches and a waking blood sugar of 367 with small ketones. Next level up is moderate which requires a call to the endocrinologist’s answering service, then large which requires a trip to the ER. Adjusted her basal rate up temporarily, the constant flow of insulin she gets from her pump 24/7. Hopefully that’ll keep the D Monster in it’s cage. She’s passed out now too.

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Me? Tired and achy recovering from the iron infusion. Oh, and the usual killer headache.

At least The Zen Master is OK. Oh… Shit… Just jinxed him didn’t I? Sorry babe.

Bored now…

OK, so far the only thing I have to day about the iron infusion is… I’m friggin bored. Thank God there’s WiFi in here…

Thankfully, The Peach had only one episode of puking last night. At 2am. In my bed. So I got to sit on the edge of my need with a vomit-soaked Peach dry-heaving in my lap while The Zen Master ran around in a frantic stupor trying to find a towel and clean clothes. And then I washed myself up since a fair amount of barf had gotten on me too. By the time I got back to bed, the worn out baby was asleep in her wornout father’s arms. Put her in the carseat so she wouldn’t choke if she threw up again while she was sleeping and went back to bed. She was cranky but OK this morning and is currently galavanting around Burlington with My Mom and Princess Punk running errands while I recline in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV with something that looks kinda like cough syrup slooooooowly making it’s way into my veins.
HTC you are my savior, my game apps should keep me from going completely crazy with boredom.
I am a bit itchy tho… I should probably tell the nurse that.

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Only 4 more hours…

Taking the blame…

Because it’s totally my fault. I’m the one who was a complete slacker for 2, no, make that 3 years and completely neglected my bariatric surgery post-op supplements. I was supposed to take multiple supplements and get my labs checked every 6 months so I could adjust supplementation as needed. But I didn’t. The whole time we were trying to get pregnant, through the pregnancy and 10 months after I gave birth, I did nothing. I was even shitty about taking the prenatal vitamins.

So now, after 5 months of 40, yes that would be FORTY PER DAY various  vitamins and mineral caplets, capsules, pills and tabs, I have gotten most of my levels back to almost normal. Some of them are still not great, but not awful.

Except for 2. Two very important ones. My calcium level is still low, and now my PTH (parathyroid hormone) is very high which means the calcium is getting leached out of my bones. So that’s not good. I’m now taking as much calcium as my body will absorb in a day (2 giant horse pills, 3x a day) and they’ll check it again in a bit.

The other one… Here’s the kicker. My iron level is low. Very low. And I’m anemic. Which I have known since November. What I didn’t know was just how anemic I am. Apparently, if I don’t get my numbers up,  they won’t clear me for my surgery on April 10. So tomorrow, I get to go to the hospital and have a 6 hour iron infusion. And, because it takes awhile for the iron to get absorbed by the red blood cells, it may not be enough to raise my HCT (hematocrit) and Hgb (hemoglobin) to a level that would clear me for surgery.

So that’s another day off work. And I am currently scrambling around to see if I can find someone to watch The Peach when I go into the hospital tomorrow because The Zen Master has to work and My Mom has to go with me. And normally, it’d be no biggie to take her to Burlington with us but the sound I woke up to this morning was ~hyuuuuuuck… SPLAT~ and then cursing from The Zen Master as he hustled her into her bedroom to change clothes while she continued to puke down the hallway.  My poor, sweet little girl spent the entire day throwing up everything she swallowed (which after the first round of barf was just water). The idea of bringing a continuously vomiting toddler on an hour long car-ride and then sitting around with her for 6 hours is not particularly appealing. And My Mom wanting to run some errands while I was being doctored seems unlikely at this point.

We’ll see. I am anticipating feeling icky since the majority of accounts of iron infusions I’ve read on the web have pointed in that general direction with a varying degree of discomfort. I am nervous about the procedeure, but honestly, way more nervous that I’ll be forced to postpone the surgery and have to deal with this pain for another month.

A few things I’ve learned about driving in Vermmont

Ok, first a disclaimer…

None of these things are in any way suggestions or recommendations for how you should drive here. They’re just things I’ve picked up along the way and conclusions I’ve come to.

  1. A dirt road in mud season can be more treacherous than a highway in an ice storm.
  2. If there’s a moose in the road you’re probably already screwed but if you aim dead center and speed up you might have a better chance of not having a very large animal explode through your windshield. Just explode all over it.
  3. Moose are usually alone. If a deer runs out in front of you, slow the fuck down, there will be more.
  4. Snow tires do not mean you can drive 60mph in a storm.
  5. Sometimes it’s a good thing to be stuck behind a snow plow.
  6. It is never a good thing to be stuck behind a manure spreader.
  7. Pot holes can break the axle of your car
  8. Pot holes get worse really fast. The minor hole you hit yesterday is now a back-breaking crater that will kill your car.
  9. Washboarding is not a bluegrass music technique.
  10. Snow hides ice. Well.
  11. Snow is slipperier (is that even a word?) when it’s 35 degrees outside
  12. Snow is deadly when it’s 40 degrees outside.
  13. Snow doesn’t melt away when it’s 40 degrees outside unless it’s been 40 degrees outside for more than a day.
  14. Even when snow on the road is melting, shaded areas can still be snowy. And unexpected.
  15. People who ride snowmobiles are often drunk and do not pay attention to oncoming traffic.
  16. Be wary of holidays and nice weather, tourists are stupid.
  17. You have to stop for pedestrians at crosswalks.
  18. You can tell the locals from the tourists because a tourist smiles when you stop at the crosswalk and a local curses if you don’t.
  19. Bikes wobble on steep hills. A Lot.
  20. 4-way stop means 1, 2, 3 and then go.

I’m amazed I’ve survived this long.

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