You’re a hard habit to break

Am I crazy?

Well, I AM sitting in bed typing this late at night while guzzling a sports drink. I just about had a coronary a few minutes ago soon after quenching my thirst realizing that I was inadvertently drinking Weight Watchers points.

Wait, let me use my nifty scanner on my iPad.

Oh damn, I just drank 4 points. Argh!

Habits, so hard to break.

Sigh…………, I’m back on the wagon. For the 2,566th time.

So while I’ve been spending time away from this place, life happens. This latest foray into weight control has no connection to a new years resolution. Rather, it’s a pure scared straight lesson for a middle-aged woman. I guess that’s what I am now, today… middle-aged…. If I happen to live to the age of 88.

Another birthday has solidified my need to do things differently.

Lately, I’ve been spending far more time in doctor’s offices and labs than normal. It appears that this may continue into the foreseeable future. No firm diagnosis yet, just chatter and prognostication.

Damn, I’ve always wanted to use the word “prognostication” in this blog. Yes!!
Another item on the bucket list.

I had a blood draw a few days ago, and I stumped the nursing staff when my best vein decided it would shut down between test tubes 5 and 6. I had 9 to fill, so they poked around in my bad arm. Made me wistful of the good ‘ole days at the RE office during infertility treatment. Those nurses knew my arms like they had a built-in GPS unit.

What I know for sure is I feel like I am 88. My muscles are so, so tender. My hair, well…you know… but now it pales in comparison to the other issues. Walking is a chore. It feels like I am trapped in a stranger’s body. I don’t know if losing weight will cure the diagnosis on the horizon, but I know it will help.

Thank goodness this situation hasn’t curbed my Internet use. (snicker)

So, there I go again. The only beast as big and scary as infertility is losing my health, and I’ll be damned if I take this next chapter of life laying down.

No pun intended.

I had thought about not posting any of these new developments here, but then, I thought… well…. I’ve already talked about the vag-cam for years, what the hell is the difference at this point.

I’m getting tired of thinking about blog posts in my head and never coming back here to type them.

So, for the handful of you still around, be forewarned, I am going UNFILTERED. I have no idea what I just meant there, but it sounded cool.

I’ve already blogged for 6 years here, what’s 44 more?

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Hark! The Angels Sing in Irony

Where to start?

This has not been a banner year.

The eight year old in me will tell you flat out that it sucked.  The big girl in me will tell you that I was not quite prepared for the curveballs thrown at me.

It seems I broke myself while attempting to reinvent me.

To continue the saga of the hair loss situation, last I left you I was only 40% bald, and receiving monthly cortisone injections to the scalp from a dermatologist.  Since that time, I also modified my vitamin regime, and started cl.obetasol, to stimulate my hair follicles into reproduction.

Follicles, reproduction!

I feel like I am in my old infertile world.  Not.

Alas, the treatment led me to a now depressing 60% bald, but bonus! thicker eyelashes, which is pretty ironic.  I am soon appearing on a street near you as Sinead O’Connor circa 1990 or as an extra on The Walking Dead.

My primary care physician is more concerned with my cholesterol (which is high) and my weight.  I am more concerned about my lethargy, weird appetite, random muscle aches, and the hair.  The hair. A complete blood work up revealed normal everything (thyroid, blood sugar, etc.) nothing but the high cholesterol, so their take is I just need to eat better.   SURE.  DID YOU NOT HEAR ME?

Something is clearly wrong. Since I don’t need referrals on my health plan (thanking my unlucky stars) I intend to find my own damn help.  

My dermatologist broke up with me (i.e. ran out of ideas) and gave me the name of a doctor that heads up a very large specialty practice for all things hairless and/or Sasquatch.  So over the bridge I will go.  The benefit to this place is they intend to look at other reasons, specifically the immunological ones.  

I will tell you that I’ve spent far too much time on Google, and the same things do come up, so I am really over the fear of the situation, I just want to KNOW WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. I hate to use the word ironic twice in one post, but isn’t it ironic (fourth time) that a girl that never even went to the doctor except for infertility, paps, and mammograms is now willing to go to the ends of the earth for a decent one?

This post merely covers the health aspect of my life right now.  Trust me, there’s lots more 2011 garbage,  I just can’t seem to put the words together.  

I feel like a total mess.

Damn, I really thought this would be a great year.

Fooled again.

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Hair today, gone tomorrow

You know, I never loved my hair.

In fact, I was pretty sure I hated it until about four months ago when it started falling out.

In bunches.

In the shower, over the sink… on my pillow, in my food. My hair volume is about 50% of what it was earlier this year. I had my thyroid re-tested, miscellaneous bloodwork.. all normal. I eliminated common causes of hair loss, until I was left with one explanation…


It may have triggered my follicles to cease and desist. This equally pisses me off and makes for, yep, MORE STRESS.

Brace yourselves

Yes,  my actual head.

Notice anything BESIDES the thinning hair?

Like red prickly marks?

That was where my dermatologist shot 15 needles INTO MY HEAD.

Scalp to be exact.

I had no idea where he was going with the appointment when he asked, can I give you a steroid injection? To see if it helps your situation? To which I said, yes, whatever.. PLEASE FIX MY HAIR.

I kinda had a panic attack shortly after … I VAGUELY remembered him asking me to collect my hair in envelopes over the next week or two, then all of a sudden the injection (that I thought was going into my arm) was aimed at my head. Oh, and the best line yet…

“this may hurt a little…”

OMFG. It paled in comparison to the, oh, 1000 or so shots I endured during my active duty in infertility.    I’d sooner shoot an intramuscular needle into my flesh blindfolded than endure this torture.

He kept injecting and injecting all over my head. My eyes started to water when he proceeded to massage my scalp.

Then he smiled sent me on my way with my homework assignment and set up my next appointment.  I am forever changed.  And I have a headache.

The only thing scarier than this visit will be the bill when it comes in the mail.

Or if I go bald. (please noooooo)

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