Sabotage from the inside.
I have my MRI today, and I'm really fucking scared. The most viable options seem to be a cyst or a tumor, since I don't see how I could have injured it...also the giant lump in my calf. It's really hard to calmly try and come to terms with what the answer might be.
I also had kind of a blowup with Lindbergh last night, and another uncomfortable conversation with Foxx.
The situation with Lindbergh is kind of twofold. I started reading this book we got at church (and if I haven't mentioned it before, I'm Catholic). It's about this Protestant couple who ended up converting to Catholicism, but before that happened, they were super anti-Catholic. Like, to the point of honestly saying the Pope was the antichrist and that Catholic's souls were ruined, one guy even calling it the "synagogue of satan" (which actually seems wrong on a few levels). Anyway I had no idea that there were people who were that against Catholicism, so I got curious. I asked Lindbergh what denomination he was...he's non-denominational; I was curious so I asked about that. I think he was weirded out by my questions. Seriously, I was just curious. We went on to chat about other things.
Later on, I asked Lindbergh if he prays much anymore. (Oh, this is the second...fold?) His answer was "Whoa. Shit just got real."
Uh, really? That is the tipping point? Of all the weird, gross, borderline dumb things he's said to me...asking about prayer is the line. Interesting. So I apologized when I got another couple of texts from him. One was asking how he ends up at the bar on a Monday, and the other was a picture of beer. While he was sending those, I sent him my explanation: that I was really scared and was just going to ask for a prayer. He said something about kind of wanting to change the subject.
Then...I got mad. I told him that I truly didn't think cancer was out of the question and that it was really cruel and heartless of him. He told me that the beer texts were supposed to have gone to someone else and that he felt dumb about it. He sent a longer apology today; I haven't responded.
The weird conversation with Foxx was kind of my fault...I should have known better. He put a really funny video on Facebook...it was in the vein of a sad "adopt these animals" commercial, except it was for white women to adopt black men (because black women were mean to them). It was hilarious, and I commented on it "oh no, do you need to be adopted?!"
Yup. Bad move. He asked if I'd adopt him, then started telling me that he would like to rest his head on my soft spots. Ah..haha. He kept pushing it and I told him that he knew I wasn't going to say yes. Then he started the "oh am I making you uncomfortable? I'm so sorry!" bit. I once again explained that we work together. How do we keep having this conversation and how does he conveniently keep forgetting about it? So obnoxious.
So, the MRI. I don't have an answer yet, but they think they ruled out cancer. (Interestingly enough, my doctor never outright told me that was an option...I kind of figured it out on my own. But my concern wasn't completely in crazy town.) Although that's good news, I still don't have an answer. And I look like a freaking idiot every time I try to walk! It's embarrassing. Luckily, my doctor put me on bed rest again, at least for tomorrow. Unfortunately, she's hoping to get me in tomorrow for the next test...stick a needle in that bitch.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Friday, February 21, 2014
What to do When Your Body is Trying to Kill You
Get pissed.
I don't mean "pissed" in the drunk sense...although I'm not against that at all either!
Rewind to Valentine's Day. I was absolutely exhausted from a long week, and I knew I had to get up early on Saturday, so I had plans to do some spa stuff and go to bed early. Lindbergh asked if I wanted to hang out, and I ended up feeling guilty for saying I was too tired. I invited him over for a movie, he accepted, we watched said movie. He wanted to hang around longer. I didn't feel like arguing, but I did fall asleep shortly after. What a captivating Valentine's. Uh huh.
Saturday. Got to the event and hung out with Wonder Woman and a couple of other friends there; we worked a bit on lookin purdy. After a while we all had to sit in a circle for a kumbaya session; we had a conversation about women's images. Some if it was actually good...how women set these impossible expectations on themselves, how women tear each other down more than men tear women down, and how every woman has the same insecurities about herself. But...there were also the girls who started crying about how hard their life has been, and someone else who starts crying because the first girl is crying, and someone else emphatically whining about how beautiful this is...yeeeaaah, no thanks. I should also point out that we were sitting on the floor, so it was really uncomfortable. And cold. Next, we listened to two girls sing a song (I didn't really listen to the words, but I'm sure it was mushy). Then, we stripped and got half nekkid. What's kind of weird is that only myself and one other girl weren't wearing black lingerie. Mine was gray and the other girl's was white. Anyway, we then had to stand in a circle and talk about our cards that we'd written on. Again, quite uncomfortable and cold. We finally got to pictures, which took about 20 minutes total. I did get a really cute shot though--I took my card and covered half of my face diagonally. After that, myself and the 3 other friends went to grab some lunch and ended up sitting there for about 3 and a half hours. I then had my hour and a half drive home...my legs weren't very happy with me after all that.
So. Shall we explore my body trying to kill me? Of course we should!
Sunday, during church, I tried to keep my legs moving so they wouldn't get too stiff. When I got home, however, I saw that my right calf was a little swollen. It had been a bit sore in the few days before that, but I think I was trying to ignore it. I'll admit that I cried a little, I just didn't want to go through the whole thing again. I went back to see the doctor on Tuesday and she ordered some blood work, which I got done immediately after. She also gave me some other assignments--warm bath, massaging the calf, and taking Aleve. I tried the bath and massage that night, and the pain made me cry. Geez, it's been months since I've cried. Stupid legs!
Oh! Side note. That same day, Tuesday, my new nephew was born. He's adorable and perfect.
Wednesday was kind of normal, but my leg was hurting more and it was getting a little difficult to walk. When I woke up Thursday, I noticed kind of a lump in my calf. So, back to the doctor I went. The blood work had also returned and I do have an increased risk for blood clots. The only way I can think of that is that I have fat blood. It makes it funny. So I went for another doppler, this time at a cardio office, because apparently the tech at the hospital was kind of a jerk and didn't want me to have a blood clot.
Alright, so I still didn't have a blood clot, but at least the cardio doppler tech was nicer and more thorough. Since that didn't show anything, my doctor said the next step was to get an MRI. So I had one set up for the next morning (today). Shortly after that I left work because it made my entire leg hurt and I couldn't do anything. Later on I got a call that my insurance company wanted me to get an X-Ray before they'd approve the MRI...so I did that.
As I was leaving I got a message that insurance wasn't happy and wouldn't approve the MRI. Even though I did the x-ray. Great. So I got another call today and I can't get in till Tuesday. Then this afternoon I got another call that the insurance company finally approved it. I'm currently lying in bed, with my legs propped up, slightly fuzzy on Norco. I'm not sure if I'll be able to go to work on Monday or Tuesday, or how long it'll be before I'll have an answer after the MRI.
So, today I salute you, douchebag insurance company. You are run by cheapskates who don't care about anyone's actual health...you just don't want to have to pay. And in that, you end up paying much more. And then pass those costs back to the customers.
Insurance companies, I present to you...the Richard Cranium Douchebag Award. Congratulations.
I don't mean "pissed" in the drunk sense...although I'm not against that at all either!
Rewind to Valentine's Day. I was absolutely exhausted from a long week, and I knew I had to get up early on Saturday, so I had plans to do some spa stuff and go to bed early. Lindbergh asked if I wanted to hang out, and I ended up feeling guilty for saying I was too tired. I invited him over for a movie, he accepted, we watched said movie. He wanted to hang around longer. I didn't feel like arguing, but I did fall asleep shortly after. What a captivating Valentine's. Uh huh.
Saturday. Got to the event and hung out with Wonder Woman and a couple of other friends there; we worked a bit on lookin purdy. After a while we all had to sit in a circle for a kumbaya session; we had a conversation about women's images. Some if it was actually good...how women set these impossible expectations on themselves, how women tear each other down more than men tear women down, and how every woman has the same insecurities about herself. But...there were also the girls who started crying about how hard their life has been, and someone else who starts crying because the first girl is crying, and someone else emphatically whining about how beautiful this is...yeeeaaah, no thanks. I should also point out that we were sitting on the floor, so it was really uncomfortable. And cold. Next, we listened to two girls sing a song (I didn't really listen to the words, but I'm sure it was mushy). Then, we stripped and got half nekkid. What's kind of weird is that only myself and one other girl weren't wearing black lingerie. Mine was gray and the other girl's was white. Anyway, we then had to stand in a circle and talk about our cards that we'd written on. Again, quite uncomfortable and cold. We finally got to pictures, which took about 20 minutes total. I did get a really cute shot though--I took my card and covered half of my face diagonally. After that, myself and the 3 other friends went to grab some lunch and ended up sitting there for about 3 and a half hours. I then had my hour and a half drive home...my legs weren't very happy with me after all that.
So. Shall we explore my body trying to kill me? Of course we should!
Sunday, during church, I tried to keep my legs moving so they wouldn't get too stiff. When I got home, however, I saw that my right calf was a little swollen. It had been a bit sore in the few days before that, but I think I was trying to ignore it. I'll admit that I cried a little, I just didn't want to go through the whole thing again. I went back to see the doctor on Tuesday and she ordered some blood work, which I got done immediately after. She also gave me some other assignments--warm bath, massaging the calf, and taking Aleve. I tried the bath and massage that night, and the pain made me cry. Geez, it's been months since I've cried. Stupid legs!
Oh! Side note. That same day, Tuesday, my new nephew was born. He's adorable and perfect.
Wednesday was kind of normal, but my leg was hurting more and it was getting a little difficult to walk. When I woke up Thursday, I noticed kind of a lump in my calf. So, back to the doctor I went. The blood work had also returned and I do have an increased risk for blood clots. The only way I can think of that is that I have fat blood. It makes it funny. So I went for another doppler, this time at a cardio office, because apparently the tech at the hospital was kind of a jerk and didn't want me to have a blood clot.
Alright, so I still didn't have a blood clot, but at least the cardio doppler tech was nicer and more thorough. Since that didn't show anything, my doctor said the next step was to get an MRI. So I had one set up for the next morning (today). Shortly after that I left work because it made my entire leg hurt and I couldn't do anything. Later on I got a call that my insurance company wanted me to get an X-Ray before they'd approve the MRI...so I did that.
As I was leaving I got a message that insurance wasn't happy and wouldn't approve the MRI. Even though I did the x-ray. Great. So I got another call today and I can't get in till Tuesday. Then this afternoon I got another call that the insurance company finally approved it. I'm currently lying in bed, with my legs propped up, slightly fuzzy on Norco. I'm not sure if I'll be able to go to work on Monday or Tuesday, or how long it'll be before I'll have an answer after the MRI.
So, today I salute you, douchebag insurance company. You are run by cheapskates who don't care about anyone's actual health...you just don't want to have to pay. And in that, you end up paying much more. And then pass those costs back to the customers.
Insurance companies, I present to you...the Richard Cranium Douchebag Award. Congratulations.
Friday, February 14, 2014
Love is in the Air
And fire is on my tongue.
Ugh. Valentine's Day. I hate this time of year. I don't think I ever even liked it when I was in a relationship. This year I have a different tactic--I'm celebrating 'Merica. Merica! Well...kinda. I think I've mentioned that I was born out of the country. Well, my report and certificate of birth abroad were both signed on February 14, so I feel like that's kind of another birthday. So instead of celebrating Valentine's Day, I'm celebrating Naturalization Day. Merica!
Transition!
I had a new development this afternoon. My friend Wonder Woman (yup, I'm going there) put up a cool event on her facebook. Oh wait, I should probably mention she's also the awesome gal who wanted to do the pin-up photo shoot for her birthday. She always does the coolest stuff! She found this photographer who's doing a women's empowerment photo shoot, and I get to be her guest. What that means is it'll be a bunch of women in underwear getting their picture taken. The catch is that you have to come up with why you love you; why you think you're valuable. It's not a super new concept, but I think it's awesome. I'm so excited to be joining it!
So I thought for a long time about what my card would say. (Oh fine, not a long time. A few hours. But it's this Saturday so I didn't have a ton of time anyway. And if you've learned anything about me, it's that I worry a ridiculous amount, mostly needlessly. Shut up and let me get on with the story.) It wasn't that I couldn't come up with any ideas...I came up with a lot of ideas. But I wanted something really good. I've had a lot of ups and downs in my life, and I'm pretty happy with the person I've become...it's hard to come up with a small description of all that. I think I've got it though.
"I keep going. Each day--happy, sad, tired, strong, weak, crazy, especially the days I want to give up--I keep going and make the day mine."
That might not seem like much, but it means a lot to me. I thought about a lot of little things, but that kind of covered it all. There have been a lot of days where I've wanted to give up, but I somehow always keep going. The "keep going" encompasses a lot...putting effort into my work, empathy for people, being there for others, forgiving and admitting wrongness...I'm proud of all that stuff. That was really the best fit, and it might not even make sense to anyone else. But it makes sense, and means a lot, to me.
Transition!
More new developments. I got a seriously random email today. It's from a guy I've never actually met. Oh, backstory. When I was a case manager, I had a client who wanted to set me up with their son. I agreed to talk to him, and we'd email back and forth. That petered out after a while (my fault, I was going through a lot of stuff and didn't want that to deal with). We started chatting again (well that's a trend) last fall and were supposed to get together when he was home for Christmas. And then, he disappeared. It was right up to where we were making some plans a few weeks beforehand. I didn't try to contact him, because I figured he'd talk to me if he wanted to, but I also started to wonder if something happened.
Back to tonight...I got an email that he's in town and asked me to dinner tomorrow. I think I'm declining...I really need some extra sleep. Plus Valentine's is stupid and all that.
Ah...life always seems to send me tricky little surprises like that. But, at least I have the ability to keep going.
Ugh. Valentine's Day. I hate this time of year. I don't think I ever even liked it when I was in a relationship. This year I have a different tactic--I'm celebrating 'Merica. Merica! Well...kinda. I think I've mentioned that I was born out of the country. Well, my report and certificate of birth abroad were both signed on February 14, so I feel like that's kind of another birthday. So instead of celebrating Valentine's Day, I'm celebrating Naturalization Day. Merica!
Transition!
I had a new development this afternoon. My friend Wonder Woman (yup, I'm going there) put up a cool event on her facebook. Oh wait, I should probably mention she's also the awesome gal who wanted to do the pin-up photo shoot for her birthday. She always does the coolest stuff! She found this photographer who's doing a women's empowerment photo shoot, and I get to be her guest. What that means is it'll be a bunch of women in underwear getting their picture taken. The catch is that you have to come up with why you love you; why you think you're valuable. It's not a super new concept, but I think it's awesome. I'm so excited to be joining it!
So I thought for a long time about what my card would say. (Oh fine, not a long time. A few hours. But it's this Saturday so I didn't have a ton of time anyway. And if you've learned anything about me, it's that I worry a ridiculous amount, mostly needlessly. Shut up and let me get on with the story.) It wasn't that I couldn't come up with any ideas...I came up with a lot of ideas. But I wanted something really good. I've had a lot of ups and downs in my life, and I'm pretty happy with the person I've become...it's hard to come up with a small description of all that. I think I've got it though.
"I keep going. Each day--happy, sad, tired, strong, weak, crazy, especially the days I want to give up--I keep going and make the day mine."
That might not seem like much, but it means a lot to me. I thought about a lot of little things, but that kind of covered it all. There have been a lot of days where I've wanted to give up, but I somehow always keep going. The "keep going" encompasses a lot...putting effort into my work, empathy for people, being there for others, forgiving and admitting wrongness...I'm proud of all that stuff. That was really the best fit, and it might not even make sense to anyone else. But it makes sense, and means a lot, to me.
Transition!
More new developments. I got a seriously random email today. It's from a guy I've never actually met. Oh, backstory. When I was a case manager, I had a client who wanted to set me up with their son. I agreed to talk to him, and we'd email back and forth. That petered out after a while (my fault, I was going through a lot of stuff and didn't want that to deal with). We started chatting again (well that's a trend) last fall and were supposed to get together when he was home for Christmas. And then, he disappeared. It was right up to where we were making some plans a few weeks beforehand. I didn't try to contact him, because I figured he'd talk to me if he wanted to, but I also started to wonder if something happened.
Back to tonight...I got an email that he's in town and asked me to dinner tomorrow. I think I'm declining...I really need some extra sleep. Plus Valentine's is stupid and all that.
Ah...life always seems to send me tricky little surprises like that. But, at least I have the ability to keep going.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
The Dobler-Dahmer Theory
From "How I Met Your Mother"
Overview: A fine line between love and insanity. If both people are into each other, then a big romantic gesture works: Dobler. If one person isn’t into the other, the same gesture comes off serial-killer crazy: Dahmer.
And we're back. So I get this message, and he tells me how amazing the pictures from Paris look and asks how the trip was. That's harmless enough, so I answered. He requested I take him on my next trip and (with a roll of the eyes, of course) I said I wanted to go back for Bastille Day. Oh, he got all excited about it. So he tells me we should just go, and surprise my sister. Uh, yeah, no. That's not happening...for so many reasons. SO many reasons. So then he randomly jumps to this: "Oh the answer is yes to the first thing.... well if that was you saying you would like to go out to dinner with me. I am saying yes."
...wh...I...what just happened...I...what?!
Seriously. I was completely blindsided. Sat staring at it like an idiot because it was so asinine. So finally I reminded him that we still don't like in the same state. Because, you know, that's kind of important. So he tells me we could meet up for a weekend in Minneapolis, all expenses paid. Then he starts telling me again how wonderful I am and that I still give him butterflies (uh, you might want to get that checked out at this point).
And I frantically tried to think of a reason to stop talking.
So, I could probably be some sort of social-scientific study. Or maybe it's not that abnormal, I dunno. Besides that, I do know that Situation's family is loaded...so if I really wanted to be a trophy wife I could take that offer. Maybe I'm not as shallow as I seem. (Does that sentence even make sense? Whatever!)
On the reverse side, if I was interested in either of these guys I would love all the flowery language and compliments. It's weird and doesn't make sense. I guess I don't really make sense. So until I figure that out I guess I'll just keep holding out for Henry Cavill.
Overview: A fine line between love and insanity. If both people are into each other, then a big romantic gesture works: Dobler. If one person isn’t into the other, the same gesture comes off serial-killer crazy: Dahmer.
Practical Origin: The Theory was used as a reference to Lloyd Dobler from the late 1980’s romantic comedy film, Say Anything, holding up the boom box outside Dianne Court’s window. While the Dahmer is a reference to serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer.
I think I've mentioned before that I'm not really a romantic. I mean, I love the idea of it...I just don't think it entirely translates to real life. To me, that's why you watch movies. The Hollywood idea of love and romance is wonderful, but real life is so much messier and confusing. So, anyway, I love the idea of it. I don't seem to really date overly romantic guys, and I really don't date the guys who are romantic. It spooks me.
Pause. I'm super lonely right now. I was with Lindbergh tonight and had quite a bit of wine, and I'm also very tired. A bit of catching up is in order. So I had the cankle, then stayed in bed for about 3 days straight, and this week was really rough. I was still stressing, still trying to act normal, but also still being overly paranoid about every tiny thing with my body. I went back to my doctor yesterday and she gave me the okay that things are normal again. It was a blot clot, but caught before it got bad. But, things have just been so scary and kind of a whirlwind and it's worse when you don't have someone to deal with you. I just got back from seeing Lindbergh...I felt more alone with him than I do when I'm actually alone. Wow, that's melodramatic. Alright, back to the story.
There's a guy I went to high school with that thinks I'm wonderful. What's kind of odd is that I really don't know him--we didn't really talk in high school and haven't really since then. I've run into him once or twice but we didn't talk then either. Every once in a while I'll get a random declaration of love or a couple of paragraphs on how classic and amazing I am. It's very, very sweet, but it's also very, very overwhelming. INCREDIBLY overwhelming. Slightly terrifying. You can't be in love with someone you don't know. It's not logical. Short version of that one.
The other day I got a message on the facebook from a guy I knew in college. He reminds me a bit of Jersey Shore so his alias can be Situation.
Pause. Let's put that in a time frame: I left my college town in summer 2009. I'd been dating a guy for almost a year by then. Situation and I, truth be told, had one ill thought out night together. (Ill thought out on my part...I didn't realize the repercussions). So the most recent possible date of this tryst is sometime in 2008. SIX years ago.
...wh...I...what just happened...I...what?!
Seriously. I was completely blindsided. Sat staring at it like an idiot because it was so asinine. So finally I reminded him that we still don't like in the same state. Because, you know, that's kind of important. So he tells me we could meet up for a weekend in Minneapolis, all expenses paid. Then he starts telling me again how wonderful I am and that I still give him butterflies (uh, you might want to get that checked out at this point).
And I frantically tried to think of a reason to stop talking.
So, I could probably be some sort of social-scientific study. Or maybe it's not that abnormal, I dunno. Besides that, I do know that Situation's family is loaded...so if I really wanted to be a trophy wife I could take that offer. Maybe I'm not as shallow as I seem. (Does that sentence even make sense? Whatever!)
On the reverse side, if I was interested in either of these guys I would love all the flowery language and compliments. It's weird and doesn't make sense. I guess I don't really make sense. So until I figure that out I guess I'll just keep holding out for Henry Cavill.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
The Day I Woke Up with a Cankle
And the horror of realizing it was attached to me
I'll be perfectly honest here: this post might be complete comprised of me bitching. At least half of it will be. There, now you've been warned, so read at your own risk.
Last week I was exercising, which doesn't happen as much as it should during the winter. I was doing squats, and my knee felt funny. I didn't think much of it, and in my mind the smart thing to do was stretch it out. Of course it continued feeling not fantastic, and the next day my calf was a little sore. I didn't think much of it since I haven't been exercising much.
Well, this Tuesday evening my knee started to feel uncomfortable. On Wednesday, it was a bit swollen and more uncomfortable. Thursday, I woke up with a cankle. Like a big, nasty, uncomfortable, gross cankle. The entire lower half of my leg was swollen and I conceded that I probably needed to get it checked out.
I called to schedule an appointment and they asked a couple of questions: if I was on birth control (yes) and if I'd done any traveling lately (no). Thankfully, they were able to squeeze me in that day.
At first my doctor told me she'd thought I sprained my knee. This is what I was expecting so I just grumbled a little at the annoyance. She still didn't like what was going on though, and asked again if I'd gone anywhere far away over Christmas or something. Well when they asked about travel, I'd only thought of the last few days, so I think I was surprised and said "well yeah, Paris for New Years."
Then it got crazy. I really trust my doctor and I think she's great. She doesn't catastrophize, but she also doesn't fuck around. I could tell that she was really concerned, so I became very concerned. She told me she thought I had a blood clot, probably in my calf. I didn't really get it at first...mostly because I'm not 90. Well once I understood I was pretty freaked out. I had to start blood thinners right there, was given a prescription for a support stocking (STOP LAUGHING!), and was scheduled to get a doppler (kind of like an ultrasound) done in the early afternoon.
I was still freaked out (I think understandably), and kind of felt like my leg was this evil parasite that was trying to kill me. Like I kind of wished I could cut it off except, you know, I'd die.
So I went to get the doppler done and the tech asked what was going on. I gave her the quick rundown, and she goes "you're a little young for a clot." GEE, THANKS. Somehow I'd missed that part! And, I obviously didn't come here on my doctor's orders. Because why would I do that? I get random hospital tests for fun in my spare time!
Okay, so the doppler was actually really interesting. It showed the veins on the screen and she could also listen to it and show heat type sensors that showed where blood was flowing and which way it was flowing. And I really liked that she explained it and showed it all to me. But there was still a lot of human interpretation, and at the end she decided that she didn't see a clot; just a lot of fluid. She ended with "that's okay, you don't want to have a clot anyway." Well, yes, but now I don't know what fresh hell is going on in my leg. So, it's good and bad.
After my doctor talked to the tech, she wanted to talk to me (which she'd already told me would happen). She reiterated what the tech had said, but sounded very skeptical. She wanted me to go ahead with the blood thinners and support stocking (okay, it's not that bad, it really just looks like a thick thigh high), and that we'll decide when I go back to see her this week whether it's a clot or not.
So, needless to say, it was a lot of stress packed into a little bit of time, and it left me kind of worn out. My doctor said I probably could go to work on Friday, but I was concerned and wanted to stay home. Which means I've basically spent the last...three and a half days laying around. It's hard to do anything really...it'll get sore laying around, and it'll start to hurt standing up and doing stuff, and it starts to swell and throb sitting down. I keep trying to tell myself that it could be so much worse. It's very uncomfortable and makes me crabby.
The worst part is that I just don't have the patience for an injury. I hate laying around doing nothing. And, I know that they're only doing it because they love me, but I cannot stand my parents hovering and babying and asking every 5 minutes how my leg is. That's so bitchy, right? I'm annoyed that they're taking care of me! But it also made me kind of lonely; another reason for me to stay here I guess.
In other news, there's not much other news. Lindbergh is on his way over...I haven't seen him in about a week. Dylan's started texting me again. I'm not sure how I feel about that. He's a very nice guy, I just know nothing's going to happen with that. There are certain personality traits that I know don't mesh with mine. Foxx has been a mixture of supportive and slightly uncomfortable with this leg thing. Actually, my coworkers have been great...I'm looking forward to going back to work tomorrow.
For the near future, though, I'm going to try and keep the cankle at bay!
I'll be perfectly honest here: this post might be complete comprised of me bitching. At least half of it will be. There, now you've been warned, so read at your own risk.
Last week I was exercising, which doesn't happen as much as it should during the winter. I was doing squats, and my knee felt funny. I didn't think much of it, and in my mind the smart thing to do was stretch it out. Of course it continued feeling not fantastic, and the next day my calf was a little sore. I didn't think much of it since I haven't been exercising much.
Well, this Tuesday evening my knee started to feel uncomfortable. On Wednesday, it was a bit swollen and more uncomfortable. Thursday, I woke up with a cankle. Like a big, nasty, uncomfortable, gross cankle. The entire lower half of my leg was swollen and I conceded that I probably needed to get it checked out.
I called to schedule an appointment and they asked a couple of questions: if I was on birth control (yes) and if I'd done any traveling lately (no). Thankfully, they were able to squeeze me in that day.
At first my doctor told me she'd thought I sprained my knee. This is what I was expecting so I just grumbled a little at the annoyance. She still didn't like what was going on though, and asked again if I'd gone anywhere far away over Christmas or something. Well when they asked about travel, I'd only thought of the last few days, so I think I was surprised and said "well yeah, Paris for New Years."
Then it got crazy. I really trust my doctor and I think she's great. She doesn't catastrophize, but she also doesn't fuck around. I could tell that she was really concerned, so I became very concerned. She told me she thought I had a blood clot, probably in my calf. I didn't really get it at first...mostly because I'm not 90. Well once I understood I was pretty freaked out. I had to start blood thinners right there, was given a prescription for a support stocking (STOP LAUGHING!), and was scheduled to get a doppler (kind of like an ultrasound) done in the early afternoon.
I was still freaked out (I think understandably), and kind of felt like my leg was this evil parasite that was trying to kill me. Like I kind of wished I could cut it off except, you know, I'd die.
So I went to get the doppler done and the tech asked what was going on. I gave her the quick rundown, and she goes "you're a little young for a clot." GEE, THANKS. Somehow I'd missed that part! And, I obviously didn't come here on my doctor's orders. Because why would I do that? I get random hospital tests for fun in my spare time!
Okay, so the doppler was actually really interesting. It showed the veins on the screen and she could also listen to it and show heat type sensors that showed where blood was flowing and which way it was flowing. And I really liked that she explained it and showed it all to me. But there was still a lot of human interpretation, and at the end she decided that she didn't see a clot; just a lot of fluid. She ended with "that's okay, you don't want to have a clot anyway." Well, yes, but now I don't know what fresh hell is going on in my leg. So, it's good and bad.
After my doctor talked to the tech, she wanted to talk to me (which she'd already told me would happen). She reiterated what the tech had said, but sounded very skeptical. She wanted me to go ahead with the blood thinners and support stocking (okay, it's not that bad, it really just looks like a thick thigh high), and that we'll decide when I go back to see her this week whether it's a clot or not.
So, needless to say, it was a lot of stress packed into a little bit of time, and it left me kind of worn out. My doctor said I probably could go to work on Friday, but I was concerned and wanted to stay home. Which means I've basically spent the last...three and a half days laying around. It's hard to do anything really...it'll get sore laying around, and it'll start to hurt standing up and doing stuff, and it starts to swell and throb sitting down. I keep trying to tell myself that it could be so much worse. It's very uncomfortable and makes me crabby.
The worst part is that I just don't have the patience for an injury. I hate laying around doing nothing. And, I know that they're only doing it because they love me, but I cannot stand my parents hovering and babying and asking every 5 minutes how my leg is. That's so bitchy, right? I'm annoyed that they're taking care of me! But it also made me kind of lonely; another reason for me to stay here I guess.
In other news, there's not much other news. Lindbergh is on his way over...I haven't seen him in about a week. Dylan's started texting me again. I'm not sure how I feel about that. He's a very nice guy, I just know nothing's going to happen with that. There are certain personality traits that I know don't mesh with mine. Foxx has been a mixture of supportive and slightly uncomfortable with this leg thing. Actually, my coworkers have been great...I'm looking forward to going back to work tomorrow.
For the near future, though, I'm going to try and keep the cankle at bay!
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Holding Back
Still being your own biggest enemy
Okay, so I've been back from Paris for a couple of weeks, and it's haunting me. It's literally everywhere! It probably was before, I just didn't notice it then.
I took this silly quiz about what city you should really live in...Paris. The White House Black Market campaign this spring...Paris. The Eiffel Tower is everywhere in stores. Yeah, I know, these aren't big things.
See, I do this pretty much whenever I come back from a vacation. (Except the one I took to Alabama. Blech. I'll be happy to never set foot in that hellhole again! Except to get food. The food was deliciously Southern.) Alright so I get back from a lovely, glamorous vacation (because I only go on lovely, glamorous vacations! Again, except for the one we don't speak of. So I'll stop speaking of it now.) and realize that my life is sad and boring and I want more. And if I listen to everybody around me, I should be doing more.
OH! Did I mention I got my suitcase? Five days late, but I got my suitcase. Everything was even accounted for and intact! But I still hate American Airlines. They're customer service was crap till the last minute. They're dumb and lame.
Anywho, I'm now trying to figure out how I can have the time and money for more adventuring. And I've started to look into civil and foreign service. Kinda crazy. But, I'm feeling cramped and bored and I need a change. Whether or not I'll actually make a change remains to be seen. I have a habit of getting scared and not taking any big risks without some outside influence.
There's not much movement on the guy front. A few friends I've been chatting with, and Dr. Stephen calls every couple of days. I still go back and forth between knowing that Lindbergh is a good guy and hating everything he says and does. It's a lot of little things. And this is the part I hate...I've met his family and friends and am friends with half of them on the Facebook. It makes me feel guilty that I'm not seeming to make this work.
At the same time I think about not having anything to do if Lindbergh and I stop hanging out. Most of my friends have moved away and, while I love spending time alone, there can be too much of that. And, of course, I still get lonely sometimes.
Well, I know this is a short one. But I figured you all deserved an update. Hopefully there will be a fun story to report soon!
Okay, so I've been back from Paris for a couple of weeks, and it's haunting me. It's literally everywhere! It probably was before, I just didn't notice it then.
I took this silly quiz about what city you should really live in...Paris. The White House Black Market campaign this spring...Paris. The Eiffel Tower is everywhere in stores. Yeah, I know, these aren't big things.
See, I do this pretty much whenever I come back from a vacation. (Except the one I took to Alabama. Blech. I'll be happy to never set foot in that hellhole again! Except to get food. The food was deliciously Southern.) Alright so I get back from a lovely, glamorous vacation (because I only go on lovely, glamorous vacations! Again, except for the one we don't speak of. So I'll stop speaking of it now.) and realize that my life is sad and boring and I want more. And if I listen to everybody around me, I should be doing more.
OH! Did I mention I got my suitcase? Five days late, but I got my suitcase. Everything was even accounted for and intact! But I still hate American Airlines. They're customer service was crap till the last minute. They're dumb and lame.
Anywho, I'm now trying to figure out how I can have the time and money for more adventuring. And I've started to look into civil and foreign service. Kinda crazy. But, I'm feeling cramped and bored and I need a change. Whether or not I'll actually make a change remains to be seen. I have a habit of getting scared and not taking any big risks without some outside influence.
There's not much movement on the guy front. A few friends I've been chatting with, and Dr. Stephen calls every couple of days. I still go back and forth between knowing that Lindbergh is a good guy and hating everything he says and does. It's a lot of little things. And this is the part I hate...I've met his family and friends and am friends with half of them on the Facebook. It makes me feel guilty that I'm not seeming to make this work.
At the same time I think about not having anything to do if Lindbergh and I stop hanging out. Most of my friends have moved away and, while I love spending time alone, there can be too much of that. And, of course, I still get lonely sometimes.
Well, I know this is a short one. But I figured you all deserved an update. Hopefully there will be a fun story to report soon!
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Becoming a World Traveler
Sampling culture and patience
Paris was incredible. In.Cred.Ible. I mean, what a gorgeous city. The mix of the modern and classic...just breathtakingly gorgeous.
So, let's see. We visited the Eiffel Tower (of course), Sacre Coeur at Montmartre, a couple of Christmas Markets, Printemps, an artist's square, Musee d'Orsay, Champs Elysee for New Year's, Pere Lachaise, Moulin Rouge, and Notre Dame. We window shopped, had lots of AMAZING food and wine, shopped (though not enough), had some good conversations, and laughed a lot. One of the nights out at dinner, there was a "gentleman" sitting at a table near us who was old enough to be *at least* my father, possibly my grandfather. And he was definitely a gross, creepy old man. He started talking to us and told me how pretty I am. He said he would have been happy to marry me the next day. Uhh...I did not take him up on that offer.
And that was the extent of my torrid affair in Paris. It did get a little lonely; Paris is a perfect place to explore with someone you care about.
This is a good time to break for an update on Lindbergh. I think it's really coming up to decision time. He's a little uneasy since I kind of bailed the last time we hung out...and it's completely understandable. But what I have to figure out is if I'm ready to get back into a relationship yet, with the label and everything. I'm not entirely sure.
Also, Soldier was at church this Sunday. I haven't seen him in months; it was kind of a shock. A really sad shock.
Back to Paris. My sister and brother in law are awesome people, and they're so in love. He takes such good care of her, and she deserves it. I was a little bit apprehensive, thinking it might be kind of weird being the 3rd wheel for a week...but it wasn't at all. It was just fun and great, and they really seemed like their focus was for me to have a good time.
I really didn't want to leave.
Aaaand...it turns out I shouldn't have, because that's when the problems started.
The flight from Paris to Newark, NJ was great. The plane was comfier, the food was better, I sat next to 2 nice people around my age, and there was an abundance of free wine available. I was all ready when we got back into the states with my passport and customs form and everything, but of course there was a long line. That was to be expected, I suppose. What wasn't to be expected was the fire alarm. The shrill, awful fire alarm. SO SHRILL. SO AWFUL. For 15 minutes. 15 SHRILL AND AWFUL MINUTES. On the plus side, we didn't have to run screaming out into the cold. The alarm went off and there was a collective, audible sigh of relief. Until it promptly started again. Then it stopped again. Then it started again. Then it was done for realsies. I got through passport control easy peasy, then picked up my luggage to go through customs. This was also a breeze. Having already gotten a text from my mum that my next flight was cancelled, I (intelligently) didn't recheck my luggage.
Well, I found out that I needed to be in a different terminal to rebook my flight. Apparently the tram had just decided to stop working, so there was a bus you could take. I was already stressed and frustrated, so I wasn't about to deal with a million other people trying to get on a bus with my 45 pound suitcase that I could barely lift. So I asked around and found out that I could walk to the next terminal, which I did. EFFING FREEZING. Every winter I say I'm going to move south, I have no idea why I haven't. I waited to see a ticket agent for about an hour and a half. I always try to be nice, because they're dealing with a lot of frustrated people, but they're like freaking robots. So she clickity-clacks away at her computer and tells me that she can get me a flight with two layovers on Sunday. It was currently Friday early evening. I was less than pleased.
I asked her to book me for that and I would check out my options. So my next idea was to rent a car and drive the 12 hours home. After trying 3 different rental car agencies, I realized that was also a no-go. So, just like any logical, mature adult would do...I sat on a bench and called my mom and sobbed.
I ended up staying in New Jersey that night. I'm so grateful to the staff at the Newark Liberty International Airport Marriott...they were rockstars. They didn't do anything crazy, but they all had fantastic customer service and it meant so much to me when I was feeling helpless and lost.
The next morning I woke up at like 5 and figured I'd call the airline to see if I could get out earlier. Well, the heavens opened up and the angels sang and I was able to get a flight for that afternoon, and everything seemed to be going well.
Then I got to Chicago. I had a few hours and found a chic little bar to grab a drink. Then my flight got delayed and I got panicky. It kept getting delayed; they were waiting for the captain to get in from another flight. It kept getting delayed. We were supposed to have taken off at 1750 and ended up boarding at around 1930. Then we sat on the tarmac for another hour and a half doing I don't know what. Finally we left Chicago around 2100.
I couldn't have been happier to be home! Oh wait, yes I could. You see, somehow, 5 hours of me waiting around in O'Hare wasn't enough time to get my luggage onto the plane. And not just me, there were 6 or 7 other people who also did not get their luggage. Three days later, I'm still sitting around waiting for them to locate it.
Congratulations, American Airlines, on your Richard Cranium Award. This debacle has overshadowed what was an awesome trip and possibly the most adventure I'll ever have.
You are douchebags, and I have no idea how the company has been in business for this long.
This was the short version of the story, of course it seemed much worse at the time. And it still does seem worse not having all the stuff I bought in Paris. I'm trying to be patient and not worry about all the material goods, but it's really hard. And when you spend $1200 on a plane ticket, you expect your stuff to be there with you. I'm saddened that this is making me not want to fly anywhere in the near future, as I really like flying and traveling.
I also don't care about getting reimbursement or some sort of consolation from all this...I just really want my stuff back!
Paris was incredible. In.Cred.Ible. I mean, what a gorgeous city. The mix of the modern and classic...just breathtakingly gorgeous.
So, let's see. We visited the Eiffel Tower (of course), Sacre Coeur at Montmartre, a couple of Christmas Markets, Printemps, an artist's square, Musee d'Orsay, Champs Elysee for New Year's, Pere Lachaise, Moulin Rouge, and Notre Dame. We window shopped, had lots of AMAZING food and wine, shopped (though not enough), had some good conversations, and laughed a lot. One of the nights out at dinner, there was a "gentleman" sitting at a table near us who was old enough to be *at least* my father, possibly my grandfather. And he was definitely a gross, creepy old man. He started talking to us and told me how pretty I am. He said he would have been happy to marry me the next day. Uhh...I did not take him up on that offer.
And that was the extent of my torrid affair in Paris. It did get a little lonely; Paris is a perfect place to explore with someone you care about.
This is a good time to break for an update on Lindbergh. I think it's really coming up to decision time. He's a little uneasy since I kind of bailed the last time we hung out...and it's completely understandable. But what I have to figure out is if I'm ready to get back into a relationship yet, with the label and everything. I'm not entirely sure.
Also, Soldier was at church this Sunday. I haven't seen him in months; it was kind of a shock. A really sad shock.
Back to Paris. My sister and brother in law are awesome people, and they're so in love. He takes such good care of her, and she deserves it. I was a little bit apprehensive, thinking it might be kind of weird being the 3rd wheel for a week...but it wasn't at all. It was just fun and great, and they really seemed like their focus was for me to have a good time.
I really didn't want to leave.
Aaaand...it turns out I shouldn't have, because that's when the problems started.
The flight from Paris to Newark, NJ was great. The plane was comfier, the food was better, I sat next to 2 nice people around my age, and there was an abundance of free wine available. I was all ready when we got back into the states with my passport and customs form and everything, but of course there was a long line. That was to be expected, I suppose. What wasn't to be expected was the fire alarm. The shrill, awful fire alarm. SO SHRILL. SO AWFUL. For 15 minutes. 15 SHRILL AND AWFUL MINUTES. On the plus side, we didn't have to run screaming out into the cold. The alarm went off and there was a collective, audible sigh of relief. Until it promptly started again. Then it stopped again. Then it started again. Then it was done for realsies. I got through passport control easy peasy, then picked up my luggage to go through customs. This was also a breeze. Having already gotten a text from my mum that my next flight was cancelled, I (intelligently) didn't recheck my luggage.
Well, I found out that I needed to be in a different terminal to rebook my flight. Apparently the tram had just decided to stop working, so there was a bus you could take. I was already stressed and frustrated, so I wasn't about to deal with a million other people trying to get on a bus with my 45 pound suitcase that I could barely lift. So I asked around and found out that I could walk to the next terminal, which I did. EFFING FREEZING. Every winter I say I'm going to move south, I have no idea why I haven't. I waited to see a ticket agent for about an hour and a half. I always try to be nice, because they're dealing with a lot of frustrated people, but they're like freaking robots. So she clickity-clacks away at her computer and tells me that she can get me a flight with two layovers on Sunday. It was currently Friday early evening. I was less than pleased.
I asked her to book me for that and I would check out my options. So my next idea was to rent a car and drive the 12 hours home. After trying 3 different rental car agencies, I realized that was also a no-go. So, just like any logical, mature adult would do...I sat on a bench and called my mom and sobbed.
I ended up staying in New Jersey that night. I'm so grateful to the staff at the Newark Liberty International Airport Marriott...they were rockstars. They didn't do anything crazy, but they all had fantastic customer service and it meant so much to me when I was feeling helpless and lost.
The next morning I woke up at like 5 and figured I'd call the airline to see if I could get out earlier. Well, the heavens opened up and the angels sang and I was able to get a flight for that afternoon, and everything seemed to be going well.
Then I got to Chicago. I had a few hours and found a chic little bar to grab a drink. Then my flight got delayed and I got panicky. It kept getting delayed; they were waiting for the captain to get in from another flight. It kept getting delayed. We were supposed to have taken off at 1750 and ended up boarding at around 1930. Then we sat on the tarmac for another hour and a half doing I don't know what. Finally we left Chicago around 2100.
I couldn't have been happier to be home! Oh wait, yes I could. You see, somehow, 5 hours of me waiting around in O'Hare wasn't enough time to get my luggage onto the plane. And not just me, there were 6 or 7 other people who also did not get their luggage. Three days later, I'm still sitting around waiting for them to locate it.
Congratulations, American Airlines, on your Richard Cranium Award. This debacle has overshadowed what was an awesome trip and possibly the most adventure I'll ever have.
You are douchebags, and I have no idea how the company has been in business for this long.
This was the short version of the story, of course it seemed much worse at the time. And it still does seem worse not having all the stuff I bought in Paris. I'm trying to be patient and not worry about all the material goods, but it's really hard. And when you spend $1200 on a plane ticket, you expect your stuff to be there with you. I'm saddened that this is making me not want to fly anywhere in the near future, as I really like flying and traveling.
I also don't care about getting reimbursement or some sort of consolation from all this...I just really want my stuff back!
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