Goodbyeee...

I met Mom for dinner this evening at Cracker Barrel, and they had their Halloween stuff up -- Mummers said that this looked like something I would wear:



:-) She's right. Every second of every day, I would wear that; if I were younger, I would be sent home from school for wearing it...constantly. They also had a snazzy pirate costume that I'd wear -- what's up with children's costumes getting more fabulous every year? Unfairness -- I demand a re-childhood.

I'm happy; my mommy may not approve of me, and she might not actually love me, but she does know me, and in my world, I guess that's as good as it gets.

Well, wish me luck tomorrow.

.

Oh, yeah...

...and I did get Ultrasound II, Return of The Killer Ultrasound results back; both of my ovaries – Millicent and Melisande – have cysts on them; Millicent, who apparently never quite got the hang of this ovulation thing, still has the same ol’ cyst which is probably a chocolate cyst, and it is not much larger. This means that Millicent has a hard time letting go. Literally. Now Melisande (my favourite; if one can have favoured ovaries, Melisande is it. All my non-idiot children will come from Melisande – if they come at all – paternal contributions aside, that is) has a cyst of her own, about the size of a walnut. Significantly smaller than the cyst on Millicent (Millicent’s previous cyst grew to be almost the size of a man’s fist, and squooshed the crap out of Millicent), my gyn is fairly confident that Melisande’s will diminish with staying on the Pill, and we are hoping Millicent’s will start to go down.

C’mon, Millicent. Get with the fucking program.

Butsoanyway.

I did ask about changing my pill to something else in case doing that might make me less psychotically horny, but my gyn said that it should go away (I have had this discussion before; it doesn’t), and would likely happen with any pill, so it makes no sense to switch (per her) and maybe ovulate even once and make Melisande or Millicent’s cysts get bigger. Ok, fine.

[Ed. Note: I have never gotten around to putting together post pages thingy-stuffs that will re-direct you to another page of you want to hear about stuff, and let you just read the other stuffs and skip the link if you don’t, so…sorry. I am going to deviate for a sec, but then we are back to more girlstuffs. You have been warned.]

Oh, I am *finally* getting to see Night at the Museum, and so far it is awfully cute; I think that, although Mickey Rooney’s character is cute, they would have done better with Burgess Meredith. Were he to be still alive, that is; as-is, maybe not so much.

Butsoanyway. Back to girlstuffs:

I do like my gyn, by the way. She is new to the area, and specialises in pelvic pain; she just came from a research university, and I pulled some of her papers. I was not expecting to, but I really like her; in between the physical therapist she has me seeing, the exercise classes, and the dope (eventually I’ll be off da dope, but not just yet; I am still taking ibuprofen and Tramadol…only now I have my own prescription for the Tramadol, ‘cos I was using the uberbottle Mummers gave me, and ran out of that. I am also supposed to be taking klonopin at night at the very least so that I can ‘sleep appropriately’, and during the day ideally per my gyn, but…I don’t. I lie and say that I do, but…I don’t. I do not mind alleviation of pain, but I do not like being tranqued. What in the fuck am I going to do in case of zombie attack if I am all tranqued? Huh? Answer me that, willya? Dr Gyn was wholly non-accepting of my Tranqued = Red Shirt in the Landing Party argument, so I lie. Though I do occasionally take a quarter or a half of one at night because I am supposed to), I am doing one thousand times better than I was this time last year, as in I can move freely and do not have to sneak off to burst into tears for No Real Reason. I have not gone into a lot of this with many people ‘cos there is not a real reason to, plus most would not understand. Plus even more do not give a fuck.

But this is my blog, and we don’t care about them, now do we?

I didn’t think so.

Butsoanyway, now we get to the interesting part. My physical therapist (well, I do not know who it actually started with, but let’s blame her ; my new gyn and the whole group are in the process of establishing a women’s clinic for this sort of thing, so they are all in cahoots as far as I am concerned) got the bright idea that I needed to add counselling to my regimen, and so now I have pressure on all four corners, so…I am. Sigh. It is essentially because they are of a mind that there is this interwoven stuff between mind and body, blah, blah, blah. It sounds newage-y (that’s newage, as in ‘rhymes with sewage’), but it is not really like that. I get what they are saying – that with most women, there are psychological habits and whatnot that need to be eliminated. So ok, fine.

Like I have time for this; it has been all I can do to free up early mornings for pilates, core class and therapy. Feh.

Thing is, I am having trouble talking to anyone anymore. Sure, I have a ton of stuff that I could ramble on about, but…why? It really does not matter; maybe things will get better, maybe they won’t; either way, I guess I have to go chat to make everyone happy. Okay, so I finally wrote something here about it.

Feh.

.

Muzak and pipe dreams

Friday morning, something odd happened (of course this stuff only happens to me, right?); as I was driving to school, I was playing with my car’s radio – which I do sometimes just ‘cos I am weird like that. Well, I landed on 88.1, and there is Robin Williams and his liberal ‘fuck, fuck, shit, fuck, fuck’ comedy shtick. I stayed on it, and it continued for some time…and then at a traffic light, an announcer came on and declared that I am listening to XM channel 115. And then the light changed, and the station fuzzled out.

Huh?

So I am crossing the intersection with static (over a teensy smattering of what sounds like dialogue, and is probably a two-off religious station), and as I hit the end of the intersection all of a sudden I am listening to some screaming, blaring metal music (they all sound the same to me, so I don’t know who)…clear as a bell. And then it is gone. More static…within *feet* of where I was picking up clear-as-a-bell metal music, which is only a couple hundred feet from where I was picking up clear-as-a-bell XM channel one-fuckety-fucking-fifteen. And I am trying to think if what just happened is even physically *possible* with radio…and I don’t think so. Random satellite beamings? Ummm…no; it does not work that way, either. I am having a hard time coming up with an answer here. So driving the rest of the way, I pick up nothing. In the parking garage, I start to pick up the staticky ebb-and-flow of some kind of rock music – clearer one moment than the other – and shut off my car.

In seminar, I spend the entire time searching to figure out what in the crap just happened. I have to resort to Google, and after tons of searches, I find this: Get Ready for Terrestrial Eavesdropping.

Oh, that is kinda cool. I mean, I think satellite radio is totally unnecessary (you’ll see me get satellite radio right after I start making Squooshable wear sweaters), but I think the *idea* of swiping signal is very neat. And yes – it does work on home systems, too. As I drive home, turning down my street, I am picking up signals the whole way; apparently I am the only home without fricking XM. Jeez. Sheep.

Butsoanyway.

Friday I was trying to distract myself from all my uber-disturbing thoughts; I have (I almost dread to report this) officially quit smoking. As in forever. As in ‘shan’t pick up the habit again, even if I am under amounts of stress which are unbearable for other humans’. Seriously. I started again finishing my last Magnificent Octopus, and since then have on-again, off-again continued. Sigh.

And I don’t dislike smoking; it is actually highly pleasurable, but then I have The Oral Fixation From Hell, and am therefore an easy sell. I like smoking; it does not bother me, and I have no need to attempt to exert my superiority (or take advantage of others’ kindness) and tell anyone to stub it out (and will no longer have to pick fights by recommending genetic counselling to any drama queen who cannot bear the cigarette smoke of passers-by, and openly patting myself on the back for my own superior genetics). Smoke away, smokers; I think you are Just Swell – Ancodia just will not be joining you. I have good, strong willpower without the need to demonise anyone like that.

It’s the superior mentation that comes with the genetics. :-D

I am *kidding*, for st. god’s sake. And no, I never smoked around my cats – not in the home at all. Someone always emails me to ask, and the answer is no – Romeo has asthma and is in kidney failure, and cannot have smoke around him for *real*, unlike some whiny human drama-queens that just like to control others and do so by playing sick. Plus, I was not a hardcore smoker – I also think it is rude to be so enamoured of le cig that one has to smoke where one shouldn’t. Everyone should just try to be civil, damn it.

Butsoanyway, my point is that I am taking Chantix so that I do not have to wade through that nagging visceral craving that keeps saying, ‘just…one!’. It has been wonderful – no nagging anything. And I figure that within twelve weeks, I will have more than enough upheaval to test my resolve, so stalking out to gas myself will be once again removed from my repertoire of behaviours. Yay.

But one effect of Chantix that is horribly under-stated (besides the fact that colours look brighter/different, though I may be one of the few to notice ‘cos I see different colours out of each eye, and always have) is these dreams! They are very…I don’t know; I usually do not remember most of my dreams, but I am having dreams I remember now every night. And my dreams have always been weird, so I cannot say that they have necessarily gotten weirder, but they seem to be more real. Okay, now let us bring recall that, since having re-started The Pill, I am 0.001 ms away from getting aroused over something, and it is easy to see how at the present time most of my dreams are revolving around sex in some way.

And I have been told that I am moving and talking in my sleep, an idea so gruesome I do not care to even consider it further. Bwaah! The whole world should definitely *not* be privy to some of these!

Sheesh…

But I think that it is worth it…in the long run, I mean. Sigh. Tomorrow I have an early-morning meeting, and then I go get ultrasounded again to check on Millicent the Ovary’s cyst. This should be fun.

Welcome to my breakdown; I hope I didn't scare you...

.


Ok...I have to make this quick, 'cos I simply must get some sleep; I am exhausted and in pain.

When I started bleeding, I tried to phone my marvellous gyn, and found out that he was closed. As in for months. My GP told me that he has cancer of the bile duct(s).

Ok, so I broke down over that one. I love my gyn.

Butsoanyway.

So I had to go hunting for a new gyn, and took many recommendations. Of those, I picked the one who would see me the soonest.

Ok, so here's the skinny:

My pain is partly due to cervical cysts/abscess things. That is ok. Since I have never had them before (as far as we know), this is probably easily fixable.

The other part of my pain and the whole of my bleeding however, Dr Gyn thinks may have another cause. I am having an ultrasound over the weekend, and a biopsy this coming Thursday. I really dread being overly-dramatic, and this is NOT a diagnosis, but Dr Gyn is looking at the possibility of endometrial cancer.

Oh, yay.


I did freak, I am nervous (I would be lying if I said that I was not), but I am not going to allow myself a full-blown freak-out until I get biopsy results. So don't panic.

DON'T PANIC: That is like, the best advice in the world. Ever. Bar none.

In Other News, Romeo is doing well and was upped to 150-whatevers of fluids 2x/wk from the 100 he was getting 'cos he is constipated. And I had to buy DSS for him...which turns out to be just plain ol' Colace. Well, the girl at the pharmacy did not know that, and Dr Vet was closed, so I had to phone my GP to ask him if he knew what DSS for constipation was. Thank god my GP keeps freaky hours and loves me...and animals. :-) So Rome is on Colace. 100mg per day, in case you ever need to get your cat of approximately ten lbs to poop and cannot get to the vet right away. It takes about 12 hours to work, and it helps if one wets the pill first to make it slimy.

And Meg is off to some tournament in New Orleans. Mom left for the weekend as well, so I am all alone. And lonely. Sigh. And drowning in work.

More later when I am not so tired and in so much pain. Promise. I have taken one Cataflam *and* 800mg of Ibuprofen, and I am still hurting. Time for Tramadol. Sigh.

P.S.: Yes, I gave Harry the money to get his god damned car back. Call me stupid.

.

my gyn is an awesome gyn...

Okay, so I have lived through another yearly. Yay. I am so farking busy that I didn't have time to do anything nice for myself as I usually do, so nothing to report there, though I know everyone is just dying to know how L'Orchidée is faring, so I'll go so far as to say that the preliminary answer is Just Fine. My gyn was funny, as he always is, though he didn't give me *half* the crap he usually does about my not fucking anyone this year--perhaps I am wearing him down. :-) This is a good thing. I did have to go have blood drawn for some crapload of 'being on the safe side' tests, and I tried my best to convince the phlebotimist to just draw from the HUGE-ASS papercut I'd given myself on the way to the lab (Dr Gyn is in a med plaza adjacent to a hospital, so he makes you walk over to the hospital to get blood drawn), but the phlebotimist didn't think I would bleed enough, so he said no. Weenie.

Aside from the riding me about having sex and the exam itself, I love visiting with my gyn; he's a MD JD, and knows freaking everything; he is definitely one of--if not the--most intelligent men I have ever met. He said that in about a year and a half, there will be a test (or tests?) that are better for detecting ovarian cancer than the CA-125 (or whatever) test, since the current one (it *is* CA-125, iddnit?) is notoriously bad for false positives, because women can have high CA-125 for a number of reasons. But he said that some place (I meant to remember where, but I think that memory bled out when I got the paper cut) has released preliminary studies on a larger study that are much more promising as far as markers go. At this point it should become really obvious that I don't remember what in the crap he said--I just promised him that I would concentrate really hard and try not to get overian cancer for another year and a half, and he said that would be great. :-)

Butsoanyway.

His assistant was funny--she was a younger black girl, and before he came in, she was griping about how she had really long, pretty nails until two weeks ago, when he made her cut them and take off all the nail jewellery as well as many of her rings and other regular jewellery (ummm...thank you, Sir). I tried to commiserate, but frankly I agree with him. She was funnier than some of the assistants I have been with before, so hopefully this is an upward trending. :-)

Now here--go carve a Jack O'Lantern! Yay! Pumpkins at Ben & Jerry's! or here: Pumpkin-carving courtesy of Georgeanory!

I am adding the Georgeanory site 'cos I continue to pray for the downfall of Ben & Jerry's because they retired my beloved KaBerry Kaboom, the stinking bastards. I don't want to support B&J any more than I must. ...until they bring back KaBerry Kaboom, that is. Then I will love them bestest again. I am fickle that way.

Now that most all of this crap is behind me, I just have work, work, work until break. Oh, christ. Meg is still taking weekends and travelling off to different points of the WPT/WSOP stuff, though she is going this weekend or next weekend (I forget which) to Biloxi to meet up with some friends, instead of to an event. I wish I could go, but I cannot; I have too much to do. Though I do have my little furry heart set on going to Tunica at the first of the year. :-) I made decent enough money last year just doing ring games that I think that may be all that I do--no more entries for me; I think they are a waste of my time and money. I may just not be a tournament player--who knows? I surely don't have the time to ponder it. :-)

I am feeling extra-guilty, 'cos I promised to do something for someone in my program as a favour last week, and I promptly forgot all about it. So that's on today's agenda for completion. God, I suck. :-\ And I wish I had some damned snack something here in the house (I am working from home today), but I never buy the stuff 'cos it always goes bad before I eat more than a little of it. After I finish the one thingy that I am feeling guilty over, I think I will take the rest of the day off and just surf for more Halloween stuff. Yeah. Right. Sure I will. :-) But I want to.

Oh, and I need to fix the template from where I migrated it, or whatever I did. Okay -- that, too. On my agenda. Definitely. And I think I want to change my template background, but that's a lot of work 'cos I don't really like any of the ones Blogger has pre-loaded, or whatever. And I need to figure out how to take posts private, or just give the hell up on it. Sigh. As if I didn't have tons of crap enough to do.

Ok; back to work.

.