Tears, a Tea Party, and Smuggled Chili

So today started out good.  Then it morphed into kinda crappy. It started out with snuggling. Awesomefamilysnugglingdaddydosenthavetoworkthismorningsnuggling.  Then during lunch the 3yo had a tearful almost nappietime, I'm hungry, can ya feed me, breakdown.  Nappietime soon followed.  Daddy gets ready and leaves for the Home and Garden show, and mommy has some peace and quiet.  Mommy could not take a nap, because someone must stir Daddy's famous chili every few minutes for four and a half hours. Guess who got relegated to chili duty? Little old me! So as I am dedicatedly stirring chili, I am looking for pictures to post on an upcoming blog about our recent happy place trip to the Bahamas, on the computer.  I come across pictures of my mommy and my baby.  My mother passed away four months ago. So the relaxed browsing turns into desperate searching for these pictures(I do photography on the side, so there are thousands of pictures to sort through).  I start to leak.  I am alone, and the grief just washes over me.  Tears rolling down my cheeks, unabashedly boohoo sobbing, snot flowing down my face and throat, and coughing ensues.  It doesn't help any that I should have been a blond, and have lost my Zoloft.  Not just one little pill.  The WHOLE FREAKING BOTTLE!   Oh no!  I look high and low, in the pill basket, in the current trash bag, in the cabinets, in the drawers, in the refrigerator, in the freezer, and in the canisters.  My search expands to the bedroom, the bathrooms, the baby's room, under the couch, under the table, in the baskets around my house, in the other trash can, in the storage room, behind the coffee pot, and on the shelves above the washer and dryer.  This leads to interrogation of the three year old.  She has not seen them.  She likes to play doctor, so she then changes her mind, and advises me she has my medicine.  She will make me feel better.   I then try to explain to her Mommy's medicine in the bottle.  She holds up one pretend bottle after another, "this one mommy?" It has become a game for her, exasperating for mom.  So I give up with the three year old.  It then strikes me as ridiculous, the places I have scoured for my medicine.  So I relegate myself to the thought of looking through the two bags of trash I took out earlier.  Just not yet.  I have to stir, stir, stir! So the three year old wakes up.  She comes in to me boo hooing.  I told her I miss Granny. She tells me I need a big hug to make me feel better.  I hold onto her for a good five minutes.  She said,"I miss her too!"  She then says,"Mommy, I am so glad I have you to love, and I am so glad you love me so much! We can love each other! I miss Granny too!"  She then proceeds to throw me an orange juice tea party. So after we drank all the tea and she ate her bunny shaped pb sandwich, I decide I am hungry.  I have been painstakingly stirring the big pot of chili, and decided to smuggle some into a cup for my lunch.  So this afternoon,I have thoroughly enjoyed my chili(comfort food), my tea party(just for me), my daughter(the biggest lil blessing ever), and a good cry(cleansing for the soul).  Now on to search the trash.  The fun never stops! Flies and maggots and spiders, OH MY! Here's to hoping I don't see my chili again!

A Scrape, A Burn, 6 incisions, 4 units of blood, and a Little Heart Shaped Suprise

Hi there.  Time to play catch up! Todays blog will be all about me.  Thats right, me and my recent, or not so recent, health issues.  Boys, you may want to turn back as this will be a girlie gross blog! But thanks for stoppin by! So I don't feel like discussing my mothers death today, I will eventually, but not today. So here's what happened right after that.
   Mom passed on 11-22-11.  After that I had to focus on all the things involved, after a person dies.  I had no time for me.  So on 12-17-11, my body forced me to focus on me.  I had been so busy with mom the last year, I ignored warning signs, and neglected to deal with my female schtuff.  Long story short, ever since I had my daughter, my periods had gotten longer and longer.  First two weeks, then three weeks the next time.  Eventually(over three and a half years)they were lasting four to six weeks.  Right.  So right after mom passed, I had a continual migraine that lasted for months.  I should have been awarded stock in the company that manufactures Excedrine Migraine, for the amount of money we spent on this drug. So one fine day I took said migraine medicine, and was rewarded with hemorraghing for an hour. Yuk. I did not yet realize that it was the acetaminophen, aspirin, and caffeine that was cause me to uncontrollably gush, so to speak.  So three days later, it happened again and my husband was ready to rush me to the hospital.  I persuaded him to wait and see if it stopped.  It slowed down after about two hours.  Hospital visit averted! Keep in mind, my mother had just passed three weeks earlier, a day before thanksgiving, and it was a week until Christmas.  I was doing my damndest to avoid hospitals until after the new year.  We had all had enough of hospitals. Barring that almost my whole immediate family works in the medical field. Well my body wanted the attention stat! 
   After the second hemorraghing episode, I promised to call the doctor.  I made an appointment for the following Friday.  So my husband went with me to the girlie doc.  They took some blood, said my blood pressure was up(due to continual migraine), and discussed things like Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, D&C, and Uterine Ablation.  The terms hysterectomy also came up.  A little footnote, I have had female issues my whole adult life.  I had one ovary and fallopian tube removed when I was barely eighteen. I have been burned, frozen, and had various chunks taken out of my "hoochie girl." So I am an old pro at this fixin the female schtuff crap.
   I was prepared for a hysterectomy.  Just take it all, and be done with it once and for all.  I was fine with that.  Doc said we usually try these new procedures first, and most women do not need a full hysterectomy.  Ok. Better for hormones.  Ok, so she recommended scrapin me out, then blowing up a huge balloon, filling it with water, and heating it up so hot, that it burns the lining of the uterus out.  Ok, I'll be asleep, right? Yes.  Ok, oh and one other thing, you cannot carry a pregnancy to term after we do this procedure.  If you get pregnant, you will miscarry.  Ok, so can you just go ahead and fix me while your in there? Do not need anymore heartbreak to deal with.  Ok.  There are three ways to do that.  Geez, pick one already, I DO NOT CARE.  Make the bleeding stop, and make me feel better.  Did I forget to mention that I felt lightheaded and like I was going to pass out all morning, while getting me and my three year old ready/  That I had to lie down on the bed a couple of times to be able to continue? Yeah....
    So the doc and nurse said to go downstairs to hospital to get bloodwork done, and they would mark it STAT.  So if my hemoglobin was down, they would call me on the off chance that I would need a transfusion.  Which wasn't likely.  Or so they they thought.  My blood pressure went back down while we were there, so I guess they figured I was ok.  I got some scripts, and was out of there after my bloodwork.
   My hubbie and I grab lunch at Five Guys, because I wanted meat.  Then we went to pick out his christmas present at Best Buy.  Did I mention that I felt like total dog crap? Ok, so while in best buy, I get the call.  The nurse calls and almost yells at me to get to the nearest emergency room now.  I asked her what my hemoglobin was, she told me it came back as 5.8.  For those of you that have no idea what that means, iit means I should not have been walking around, shopping, and out for lunch.  Most people would have been in a coma.  So my hub freaks out, and is trying to speed to the nearest hospital, but traffic won't cooperate. I tell him to calm down, I am not dying.  I was upset that he would not be persuaded to go ahead and buy his christmas present!
   So we get to the hospital, and they repeat my bloodwork, and advise me that I need a transfusion.  A big one.  Like 4 units.  I have never had a transfusion before, but ok, no biggie.  My mom had lots throughout the years of hospitalizations that she had to endure, and she was just fine.  XX, signed my John Hancock, lets get this transfusion rolling!   So hubs calls his mom for backup, and I called my dad at work en route to the hospital.  So finally dinner comes.  First bag o blood arrived. HeeHee. Stick, poke, poke, got it! So as the first bag starts to drip inside me, I tell my husband, what was once inside someone else, is now entering me.  Yup lost my transfusion virginity with hubs watchin.  He says I'm a sicko! Then doc decided to give me two, 3-month shots of Depo-Provera to stop the bleeding.  Ooww.  They were sore for 3 weeks.  Then I had to go for a trans vaginal ultrasound.  Just sounds creepy right?  I had a very young ultrasound tech, who was being very gentle, informative, and considerate.  I advised her, honey, that little wand is not going to hurt me, neither is the insertion or removal.  Just do what you have to do, and tell me what you see.  I think I embarrased her with more chatter of the wand in the "hoochie girl" type(always blame it on the pain meds)but she did tell me that she didn't see any tumors or growths.  Thank you!
   So I haven't cried, gotten upset or anything, until my daddy shows up.  He left work to come and check on his baby girl.  That's when I lost it.  It hit me.  I am in the hospital for the first time in my life without my mother by my side. I reverted to a five year old child and cried like a baby in my daddy and hubbie's arms.  I have always been the strong one just like my mom.  Not today. So it took approximately 12 hours for 4 bags of other peoples blood to slowly drip their way into me.  We got to go home at three in the morning.
  So I take it easy for a week or so, and then it's Christmas.  First one without mom. Then New Years, and then mom and dads anniversary. So then we go back to the doctor, to discuss surgery, and sign consent forms.  So they are going to try to shove a gold coil into the end of my fallopian tube, which will cause scarring, and "fix" me.  She explains the D&C, Ablation, and Novasure(gold coil.) My husband asks since I only had one fallopian tube, if we got a discount.  Doc did not think we were funny.  She previously did not think we were funny when we asked if I could have surgery in 2011 not 2012, so we only had to pay one max deductible.  No such luck.  Everybody had the same angle.
   So I'm cool with a lil inside bling. GOLD? Waaaaaay cool.  So then I have to go for pre-admission testing.  More stick, stick, poke, poke, drain.  At least my hemoglobin is up to 10.5! Yaay for others peoples blood and their decision to donate.  So all that is left is surgery.
   Now between the last doc visit and the day of surgery, i get emotional.  Emotional about ending the period in my life where I am fertile.  Where I can pop out babies, wait a minute, we did not want anymore kids anyway!  Why am I upset? Because as any woman who has been through this will tell you, it's simply the absence of the option.  I am moving into the next phase of my adult female life.  It is a very emotional decision.  Did I want to try to have another baby? Did I want to have to endure non successful conceiving months, months of Clomid(fertility drug), and daily charting of my temperature to guage ovulation? No, No, and No.  We have our little miracle baby.  Two big kids and a three and a half year old are quite enough thank you! So my poor husband is exasperated by this point! I have been wearing him out with worry about me since Thanksgiving.  He just wanted me fixed and all better.
   So  the day of surgery arrives with my husband, father, and mother in law in attendance.  They take me back to wait.  The doc was running late.  I made sure the nurses inform my cheering section, so they didn't worry further.  So the doc finally gets there, and away we go.  I wake up to the thought of "It's over!" Little did I know, my family was worried sick.
   The procedure(s) were only supposed to take an hour to an hour and a half.  I was in surgery for four hours. So what happened you ask?  Are you sitting on the edge of your seats, waiting for the next big revelation?  Well, when she got in there, my uterus was bigger than she thought(more fluid to fill and heat), the uterine lining was thicker than she thought(longer burning),  and there was a nice unexpected suprise waiting on her.  Hope she ate lunch! I had a partially septate uterus. A what? A huh? My uterus was heart shaped. so instead of one big womb, i had a big growth(there since birth)down the middle, that made mine look like a gigantic heart instead of a circle.  So she took it out.  Cut, cut, snip, snip. That will be an extra $3000 please! I also learned that a normal uterus takes 14 cc's of fluid to fill for the ablation procedure, mine took 44 cc's.  Guess momma was always right when she said the women in our family had child bearing hips! She also had to cut a piece of my fallopian tube out, because there wa too much scarring to get the gold bling inserted.  Snip, Snip. Nobody came out to tell my family why it was taking so long.  My hub was chomping at the bit.  He laid the doctor out for not sending someone out to inform them.  Four hours instead of one and a half?  Yeah he was a little bit pissed. So after I was threatned with having to spend the night if I didn't feel like leaving yet(it was way after closing time of the out patient surgery ward)I groggily got dressed, and went home to convalesce in bed. I ended up with a scraped burned and cut uterus, a chopped up fallopian tube, and before pictures of my pretty heart shaped uterus.  So I ended up with three external incisions, and three internal.  I hurt.  I hurt for a while.
   I must say that i have the most loving, caring, wonderful husband in the whole wide world!  He took care of the three year old, cooked, cleaned, and lifted until I was feeling better! So if any of you have to go through anything similar, there's my experience! When it rains, it pours!
  

Mommy Lesson #35-Bravery

So this morning has been eventful. My three year old and I, have so far, Mickey Mousekercised, made Play-Doh cupcakes, cakes, and icing, played doctor, called great grandma, tried on summer clothes(otherwise known as torture to a three year old), and had a kid directed ballet class(with lots of lifts and spinning).  There has also been laundry done, sweeping, and a various other multitude of stay at home mommy duties.  Just had to clarify that so you all don't just think that I play all day.  For shame! So I remove the easter dress from the hanger, and try it on my little darling.  It looks adorable! Just had to call great gramma and tell her. So as I am removing dress from child,  talking to great gramma, and reach out and grab the hanger, I notice a ginormous bubble butt spider, hanging out on the matching leggings that are still on the hanger.  I scream like a little girl, while on the phone with great gramma, three year old asks what is wrong, I mentally resolve to act like an adult(for the benefit of the three year old), a not scared of spiders adult that can calmly handle the situation, and I quickly but gently hang the hanger back on the hutch door from which they came. Adrenaline is pumping, and I feel pressure mounting as I have to decide what to do with this spider.  Keep in mind I have two witnesses.  I calmly advise(a feat in and of itself)darling three year old, that there is a spider on her pants, to please stay away from it. I run to get a something to smoosh it with.  I also advise mamaw what the heck is going on.  She starts to laugh uncontrollably.  So I get an allergy medicine box that is empty, and prepare to deal with the enemy. 
   For those of you who don't remember, I hate spiders. I hate spiders. I hate spiders.  I do not discriminate.  I hate big spiders, little spiders, bubble butt spiders, wolf spiders, teensy spiders, pregnant spiders that give birth when you squish them, spiders in my bathtub, spiders on my shower curtain, spiders that scurry across the bath room floor, spiders in my bedroom, spiders on the ceiling, spiders in the crack of the walls, spiders that sneak into my front door, and back door, spiders on me, my child, or my husband, and spiders in between the screens and windows of my house.  I hate the white spider that has camped out above our sliding glass door, marathon spiders that just keep running, no matter how many times you squish them, spiders that silently drop onto your head or shoulder from trees, spiders who have spun their webs on my childs swingset, spiders in the dark that on your way into the house at night, scare the crap out of you, spiders that come into your house to stay warm in the winter, spiders that infiltrate storage boxes in the garage, sneaky hiding spiders, and especially spiders in the car.  The ones that drop down from the ceiling of your car, always while in traffic, that make you scream and swerve, and pull over to escape fron your own car as quickly as possible, to survey the situation and decide how best to deal with said sneaky exhibitionist spider.  Why?  Why must spiders do that? I mean c'mon seriously? It's like they are saying,"look at me, BOO, here I am, Scared ya! Shaking my butt and little sexaaaaay legs in your face. Wait for it...Im going to drop on ya too! Booyah, scream-5 points, heart attack-10 points, getting away from the human to hide back under their seat where they can't see me, so I can do it again in ten minutes-priceless!"
   So I knock the bubble butt spider off of the leggings with the empty medicine box.  He falls to the floor, and starts to scramble away. The next surge of adrenaline kicks in, and I am suddenly the Exterminator Terminator.  Fearless and brave in the face of such grave danger.  I swoop in and squoosh the spider.  I lift the box to see the bubble butt spider carnage, all the while praying that there would not be a hundred little babies scurrying about.  It's not quite dead enough to suit the Exterminator Terminator, so I go in for another squish of such massive force that there could be nothing left but remains!
  Great gramma got a good laugh out of our phone call this morning.  She also offered the advice that if you can see the spider, it won't hurt you.  It's the ones you can't see that will bite and our dangerous!  Thanks Exterminator Terminator Emeritus!(see previous post for spider battling 76 year old) The three year old was very brave and gave me a high five after the spider obliteration.
   People ask,"are you afraid of spiders?' So as not to seem like a fraidy cat, my reply is always,"no, I just don't like them!" YES I am afraid of them!!! I hate them! Why else would there be an adrenaline rush so strong that I could battle the Incredible Hulk and win? FEAR people, FEAR. It's totally irrational and I have gained some control over the spiders I can see beforehand and plan the attack.  It's the suprise sneaky spiders that get me every time! If my husband is home, I ask him to kill the spider.  The thing is, he's scared too, so we usally argue about whose going to kill it. He usually loses, and ends up killing it.  I mean hey, it's worth enduring a little bit of bitching, to not have to deal with eight legged sneaky nasty, icky devil-insects that expel sticky webs from their butts.  Moral of the story, showing three year old that you can be brave and face your fears.(After screaming like a little girl!)

Kentucky House Hunting Part #2

So, I was wrong.  I admit it.  That last house we were on the way to see when I left you in Part#1? It was awesome!  It was THE house.  It was the right price, in a great neighborhood, and had everything we wanted!  Rock On!I will not miss leaving the house hunting race, really.  I will not miss the animal smells, the ghosts, the collapsing ceilings for $950, the taken over schools/meth community for $1150, landladies that look as if they will keel over at any minute prompting us to have to move agin when her kids decide to sell, $1300 for downtown loft with one bathroon and big stairs, the houses where owners family surrounds the house..ie "somebody's eyes are watching", the "nice" community behind the federal pen and federal prison work camp(where none other than our own illustrious Arch Moore did his time), and last but not least the biggest disappointment we found.  I left it out in Part #1!
     So the first day of house hunting had not brought us any luck.  We continued to drive around looking.  We got hopelessly lost.  Did we stop and ask directions you ask? Bahahah! Nope, we are the fearless house hunters.  We dont need no stinkin directions! So eventually we come upon a community that looks very promising.  Could it be? A decent condo complex? We drive down the street of one floor homes with garages and porches.  Exactly what we had been looking for.  We began to get excited! Then we round the bend and there is a high rise condo building!  It was all newer construction, and very neat.  Then we come upon the office and the clubhouse.  My dearest hubbie excitedly kicks the car into park, and is getting out to get more information from the office, when we suddenly realize why there is a surplus of buicks in the parking lot. Yep, its an old folks community! A retirement home! Looked good to us! Too good to be true!  So he hops back in the car, and proceeds to get the heck out of old people village. I think we actually passed a person out for a stroll in a wheelchair! We both laughed so hard I thought that we were going to pee out pants!
     So there are some interesting facts we have come upon in our travels, and the Kentucky experience thus far.  #1-You can hit the local McDonalds drive thru for a $1 bag of ice.  A big bag, that is cheaper than  your local grocer. #2-No one is aware of any prisoner EVER escaping from the aformentioned jails(very odd..every person got the same glazed over look when responding to the escape rate question..like they had all been brainwashed to respond with the same answer...yeah and there was no meth problem in Wurtland either!!) #3-People do not seem to be as friendly as I am used to, having lived in WV all my life, and last but not least...#4-you will not publicly display any inkling of loyalty to any team other than UK.  You will not display other colors, souveneirs, team paraphenalia,or framed degrees from any other institution.  If caught with any of said items in your office or on your desk, you will be called out on it immediately, and will be advised you have been warned.  Living in Kentucky requires that you give up, or pretend to give up all other team loyalties, and that you are only permitted to bleed blue and white. No green and white or blue and gold.

Kentucky House Hunting Part #1

Hi.  It's been a while. Since I last blogged, there have been many life changing events that have occurred.  My mothers death, almost bleeding to death, subsequent surgery, all the first holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries without my mommy, my husband getting transferred to Kentucky, going to Atlantis in the Bahamas, the birth of my brothers first baby, and house hunting in Kentucky.
     So one thing at a time.  Today, we are house hunting.  Can I just say that I am not impressed with the slim pickins' for rent in the city we are moving to in Kentucky.  I am impressed with the downtown loft apartment, that is above our budget, and with downtown living in general.  It is close to both the riverfront park, and Central Park. I am not impressed with the lack of closet space, only one bathroom, lack of a yard, and no motorcycle storage. On the upside, its super cute, walking distance to almost everything, across the street from my hubbies work, in the downtown art community, and is ultra modern. On the downside, we need to find something soon because my hubbie is stressed out, has a two and a half hour commute most days, is worn out, and we don't see him as much as we are used to. The alternative is him/us staying in Ky during the week and going home to WV during the weekend.  That is not acceptable.
     The condition of rental houses that we have looked at thus far, is deplorable. One was behind the federal penitentiary and the federal prison work camp. Another was awesome, but was beside the schools the State had just taken over for being so horrible, and in a meth stricken community. As evidenced by the man who shot his wife and toddler three blocks down from said house, a week an a half later. Yup, right-o. Not going there. Plus there was a $250 late fee, if rent was payed 1 minute after it was due. And the fact that the landlord swore the meth infested community was the next town over. Can we say warning signs?       
      So needless to say, house hunting has become very frustrating. I am keeping a good attitude, but I must say that I am not impressed with our new city yet.     The next house we looked at was an older house. It was cute, with a sun room, a backyard and deck, and space.  THEN we opened the basement door. Keep in mind that the landlord had told us that they had just bleached the whole house. The smell that came out of the basement, permeated the entire house. It smelled at best description, like a animal shelter slaughterhouse. Did I mention that 2/3 of our family has animal related allergies? Then another house we looked at this morning, the neighborhood was deplorable and the ceilings were falling down. There were more downsides, but again as soon as we walked in the doorway, the stench of animal(s) hit us like a brick wall. Thank you, but NO thank you. Did I mention the three obviously unemployed, unkempt creepy neighbors that sat on the porch watching us the whole time we were on the porch and and getting in and out of our car? Sooo not digging that house either. Wouldn't want to wake up in the middle of the Chainsaw Massacre or anything.
     We drove past a house we had liked previously, but ruled out for space restrictions, because it was starting to look like a castle...and it was rented. Then we looked at another house, space and yard were perfect, but the house had a stinking dog too. Phooey! It was also across the river back in Wild and Wonderful West Virginia.(We are suppose to relocate to Kentucky.)
     We looked at an executive apartment community with a seawater pool, and a playground, but there is a waiting list for three bedroom units. So there is one more house we are going to look at this evening. I must admit I do not have much hope for this prospect either, I seriously hope I am wrong.
     How could have I forgotten the hugest issue? Cost. Everything is so very much more expensive! I guess it's an old money city, and nobody ever moves! Every house is $100-500 more expensive than our current cost of roof over head, and our rent is not cheap! I am not impressed with the issue of less for more!
     The funny part of all of this? My hubbie must go to work every day, to a very old building, that reminds one of a brothel! Yes, I said brothel. The lobby walls are brick red.  It's interesting to say the least! I don't know why, but it reminds me of the old gigantic mansion, in the French quarter, that Lestat lives in, in the movie, Interview With a Vampire!