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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Beach Bummed

Well, July just flew by.

As promised I present you with photographic evidence of my spray tan. It looked great (ignore my mean face). Even coverage, no streaks, and no orange glow. I methodically used the blocker lotion on my hands, feet, knees and elbows as directed… and it was easy. Would definitely do it again, and especially for a unique occasion. For those of you who asked, the tan was via VersaSpa (not Mystic) and I chose the medium tone. I am intrigued to try the dark tone, but a little scared. Maybe on a week I know I don’t have to go anywhere just in case.

So, l took my new tan on the road to Hilton Head, SC for our 10 day vacation. Didn’t you wonder where I went?

We had a great time, as usual. This is the 6th year we’ve made the 12 hour drive. Sure, there was bitching and moaning being trapped in the car and dreaming of an exit on I-95 with a Starbucks, but the pain is worth it in the end when we see the sign that takes us to our home away from home.

David was like a boy obsessed this year. For one, he couldn’t wait until he got the opportunity to go crabbing off the pier at the resort. He and hubby caught five blue crabs (catch and release), and they were in heaven. I particularly don’t get the enjoyment of standing in the sun over a creek with fish smell lingering in the air, but to each is own.

Secondly, after David spent a week trying to make friends at the pool, he met a girl (insert oohs and aahs and curious eye rolling here). Is this when it starts, age 8?? Really? Goodness. Unfortunately, their courtship was short-lived.. she left the next day. However, he had a ball and I got a new friend too… her mother is the same age as myself and through conversation I found that she had her daughter via fertility treatment. We traded war stories, and it was really unexpected.  It was like meeting a mirror image of me, and so glad I got the opportunity to chat with her. Thank goodness for Facebook to stay in touch. Sadly, David is left only with a picture of himself and his new friend-  plotting how he might charter a boat to see his southern sweetie. I am still trying to help him understand that TN is not on the coast. lol.

We spent most of our days poolside, and if you follow me on Twitter, I posted a few pics along the way.

We were almost too lazy to spend time physically ON the beach. Too much preparing and effort. Plus, I admit it, I hate getting sandy.  Hate it.  However, we did take walks and collected seashells.

The thing I love about HHI is the relaxation factor. It’s the only place I’ve vacationed where I feel truly rested.

After all the turbulence this year, I wanted that feeling more than ever. Problem is, once I shut down it’s hard to boot back up. We got home on Monday and I’ve spent the last 48 hours walking into walls and navigating my foggy brain through the day.
The reality of being home was kind of a downer. You all know the feeling. Back to the grind, and to-do lists.

Speaking of  to-do’s, I am making a doctor’s appointment for myself this week. Been feeling off for the last few weeks and some oddness going on with my fingernails looking weird and my hair falling out in bunches (has been for the last 6 weeks). The hair loss is worrying me.  Really bad.  I am asking for a thyroid panel at my regular doctor when I get in, among other things. Surely, five years of shooting up hormones hasn’t affected my endocrine system, right?!? I can only guess the crap my body is going to give to me now after putting it though so much over the years.

For naught of course.  Another post for another day.

So, I am back, sort of. Give me a minute and a latte and I will be ready to rock and roll.

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I Want Candy

Day two of bedrest.

So with the incredibily suck-ass news yesterday, I forgot to update you all on the flu situation here at the house.

David, yes, is an H1N1 victim (as is a host of kids in his school). This morning, as I was sipping coffee and eating a peanut butter cup (don’t judge me, the coffee was decaf, and the candy, well, wasn’t.. it’s Halloween week for goodness sakes so what better time to eat candy than 7:30am??)

I digress.

So, David is starting to feel better. He still has a fever, albeit a low-grade one now. He’s out of school for the week, which means he misses all the Halloween parties so he’s already guilting me into a toy from Target this weekend.

Meanwhile, S. and I have no symptoms. However, I began taking Tamiflu as a precaution (recommended because of my situation). Can I just tell you how EVIL Tamiflu is??? Tamiflu makes you feel like you HAVE the flu (minus the fever). What the hell hair-brained idiot thought that one up? I should have read the damn prescription dossier before I took it.

In any event, my goal is to stay healthy.

I cannot guarantee, however, that I will not consume the entire bag of peanut butter cups. I will attempt to balance it out with a salad or two, don’t worry.

Thank you all for you kind comments and e-mails. It is because of you that I have any shred of humor left today.

I’ve decided to not think about what will happen if this doesn’t work. Well, I know, sure…. it’s a giant road sign that screams “THE END”, but I figure I’ll spend the next week pretending it’s not there.

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