I had a bad appointment with my OBGYN.
I've been feeling super shitty. Napping all the time and still feeling exhausted. Pain in my ovaries and in my breasts. Up to 208 pounds even while eating only veggies and fruit.
Appointment with my OBGYN for my yearly resulted in scheduled blood work, ultrasound of my baby-making parts and a mammogram.
A MAMMOGRAM? I am 37 years old.
I scheduled my appointments and panic. The paperwork says that it is a diagnostic mammogram. As in, my doctor felt something weird or I'm having symptoms that lead her to believe that there is something wrong with my boobs. The office that I usually go to had an appt on August 16th. I called another office and had it moved to July 31st. I don't think I can wait that long to have my boobs squished like Christopher Lloyd's character in Who Framed Roger Rabbit?
I'm sorry I made jokes about wanting to not have boobs when I was younger and trying to be active with D cups.
I'm sorry I nicknamed them Big Mac and Whopper Jr. (Whopper Jr is significantly smaller.)
I have a lot of lovely supportive people in my life who tell me not to worry and give me examples of how this happened to them and how they are ok. That is lovely and I love them.
I do, however, wish there was someone who wouldn't try to convince me to not worry. Who would just listen and say, "I know you're scared. It's a scary thing. Your feelings are completely justified."
Then buy me an ice cream cone. A lowfat ice cream cone. And give me a hug. A light one so as to not hurt the knockers.
I looked online for a forum or something where I could express my fears and trepidation but ended up in the downward spiral of the googler. Other terrified people being terrified of calls from their doctors after their mammogram. People further on in the process who are getting biopsies and markers and other things that scare me. So, I came back to this blog.
I can wait two weeks. I can wait two weeks. I can wait two weeks.
Wednesday, July 18, 2018
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
Death is stupid.
My co-worker Bryant passed away.
He was young, had just left our workplace for a new career and just fell over 3 days into the new job. They didn't know what happened, so his mother asked for an autopsy. I still don't know what happened to him,
This is not the first time someone I know has passed away. I have lost people in the past. But this was an open casket viewing, and my less than mature mind was not prepared for it at all.
My co-workers and I all decided to drive down together. We left work early so we could clean up and were supposed to meet back at the club at 5:30 for a 6pm viewing. My boss showed up and announced that we were all going to have a drink before leaving. The head golf pro (Tim), the membership director (Audry), and the head waiter (Debbie) went upstairs and made drinks. We got to the funeral home at about 6:30. We walked in and there was a large crochet blanket hanging in the lobby, with a photo of Bryant, with a rainbow and some doves along with his birthdate and the date of death in the bottom corner.
Water started leaking out of my eyes.
The door to the viewing room was open. The casket was in the front of the room, and I froze. I looked over at my boss, who mouthed, "It's ok." and gestured me to follow him into the room.
Bryant's mom and dad were to the left of the casket. I looked down at my friend and I lost it. They had dressed him in a chef's coat and hat, the very coat and hat that he had worn when he graduated from culinary school. We shook hands with his parents, letting him know how much he was loved at work. His mom kept repeating, "At least he died doing what he loved."
Niagara Falls.
One of Bryant's aunts asked us to take a seat. We did. BM turned and asked us if anyone wanted to say a few words. None of us did. We left.
Back at the clubhouse, BM took us all back upstairs and poured more drinks. We reminisced about our friend. We shot the shit. We smoked cigars on the back patio. We bonded, then all went home.
The next day, I had ordered a ton of food from McCrays BBQ in West Palm Beach for the repast after the funeral. BM, Tim and I drove two cars down, as we were providing all the beverages as well and BM's truck was filled with coolers. McCrays is a food truck. Bryant always wanted to have his own truck, doing modern spins on soul food. So...that's what we got for him. I loaded all of the food into my mom's Jeep. Then we drove South, to the mission where the repast was being held. We completely missed the funeral, but we provided his family with enough food to last this whole week.
I'm lucky that I have made it to the age of 35 without much loss. I did sit down this week with my parents to let them know that under no circumstances would I ever want an open casket at my funeral. Dad was his logical self and said that they wouldn't have to deal with that as they'd be going first. I told him that nothing is guaranteed.
It's not. One thing that came out of the loss of my friend is the fact that I need to do better with this life I have. I can't nap it all away. There needs to be change. I'm looking for that change. Who knows what that change will be? Not me. Not now. But it's coming soon.
He was young, had just left our workplace for a new career and just fell over 3 days into the new job. They didn't know what happened, so his mother asked for an autopsy. I still don't know what happened to him,
This is not the first time someone I know has passed away. I have lost people in the past. But this was an open casket viewing, and my less than mature mind was not prepared for it at all.
My co-workers and I all decided to drive down together. We left work early so we could clean up and were supposed to meet back at the club at 5:30 for a 6pm viewing. My boss showed up and announced that we were all going to have a drink before leaving. The head golf pro (Tim), the membership director (Audry), and the head waiter (Debbie) went upstairs and made drinks. We got to the funeral home at about 6:30. We walked in and there was a large crochet blanket hanging in the lobby, with a photo of Bryant, with a rainbow and some doves along with his birthdate and the date of death in the bottom corner.
Water started leaking out of my eyes.
The door to the viewing room was open. The casket was in the front of the room, and I froze. I looked over at my boss, who mouthed, "It's ok." and gestured me to follow him into the room.
Bryant's mom and dad were to the left of the casket. I looked down at my friend and I lost it. They had dressed him in a chef's coat and hat, the very coat and hat that he had worn when he graduated from culinary school. We shook hands with his parents, letting him know how much he was loved at work. His mom kept repeating, "At least he died doing what he loved."
Niagara Falls.
One of Bryant's aunts asked us to take a seat. We did. BM turned and asked us if anyone wanted to say a few words. None of us did. We left.
Back at the clubhouse, BM took us all back upstairs and poured more drinks. We reminisced about our friend. We shot the shit. We smoked cigars on the back patio. We bonded, then all went home.
The next day, I had ordered a ton of food from McCrays BBQ in West Palm Beach for the repast after the funeral. BM, Tim and I drove two cars down, as we were providing all the beverages as well and BM's truck was filled with coolers. McCrays is a food truck. Bryant always wanted to have his own truck, doing modern spins on soul food. So...that's what we got for him. I loaded all of the food into my mom's Jeep. Then we drove South, to the mission where the repast was being held. We completely missed the funeral, but we provided his family with enough food to last this whole week.
I'm lucky that I have made it to the age of 35 without much loss. I did sit down this week with my parents to let them know that under no circumstances would I ever want an open casket at my funeral. Dad was his logical self and said that they wouldn't have to deal with that as they'd be going first. I told him that nothing is guaranteed.
It's not. One thing that came out of the loss of my friend is the fact that I need to do better with this life I have. I can't nap it all away. There needs to be change. I'm looking for that change. Who knows what that change will be? Not me. Not now. But it's coming soon.
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Not ok.
I am not ok.
I'm am getting more ok as the days pass, but it's been a weird couple of weeks.
It started when I went home on a Monday to meet with the a/c company who was going to start servicing my a/c. It was a weird visit. I kept cleaning things while they walked in an out of the house. Then head a/c guy was all, "Your handler is 20 years old and you'll probably need to replace it over the summer. Only about 3,000-5,000 dineros."
F&*k.
As I drove back to work, my mind was on how I was gonna do this. As a very content perpetually single lady, the only discontent I have is money. It's hard living on a single paycheck. It just is.
So. I'm at a red light about to cross the train tracks to get to my job. There's a brand new Volvo SUV in the left turn lane next to me that has his reverse lights on. Weird.
He reverses, right into my drivers side door. It crumples. Bent in half, not latching. The cops come. He is not cited for being a f*&king moron. And I go to work sobbing because some selfish dickface decided that turning left was not what he wanted to do and I was inconveniently in his way.
The next week was weird. I went to work. I went home. I walked Kevin. I stared at the wall. I couldn't eat enough food. One night, I had black beans and chicken. Then some pita chips and hummus. Then a bowl of pasta with butter. I took a bite of the stick of butter. I stared at the wall.
I couldn't sleep. I could eat, though. Insomnia took me into the kitchen where I inhaled half a jar of pickles. I had a burger a day last week for lunch. I didn't care. I was numb.
Yesterday, I ate a healthy breakfast of oatmeal with flax seeds and two turkey sausage links. I packed my lunch and ate an almond butter and jelly sandwich, carrots and watermelon. On the way home I ordered delivery and slammed a chicken burrito in my face faster than you can say eating disorder.
I feel empty.
Yesterday, I had to pick my dad up from the airport. I had to get on 95. I had to try to deal with airport idiots. Some lady tried to merge into my car. And I blacked out. I got dizzy and my vision swam. Thankfully, my dad was at the curb and hopped in quickly. I realized I was holding my breath as he started chatting with me about his trip. I got him to the house and headed back to work. I wanted food. As soon as possible. Even thinking about driving to the airport right now is making my chest feel tight.
My car is supposed to be ready on Tuesday. I am looking forward to getting it back, as driving a rental is stressful for me. I hope getting my car back will make me feel less off. We shall see.
I'm am getting more ok as the days pass, but it's been a weird couple of weeks.
It started when I went home on a Monday to meet with the a/c company who was going to start servicing my a/c. It was a weird visit. I kept cleaning things while they walked in an out of the house. Then head a/c guy was all, "Your handler is 20 years old and you'll probably need to replace it over the summer. Only about 3,000-5,000 dineros."
F&*k.
As I drove back to work, my mind was on how I was gonna do this. As a very content perpetually single lady, the only discontent I have is money. It's hard living on a single paycheck. It just is.
So. I'm at a red light about to cross the train tracks to get to my job. There's a brand new Volvo SUV in the left turn lane next to me that has his reverse lights on. Weird.
He reverses, right into my drivers side door. It crumples. Bent in half, not latching. The cops come. He is not cited for being a f*&king moron. And I go to work sobbing because some selfish dickface decided that turning left was not what he wanted to do and I was inconveniently in his way.
The next week was weird. I went to work. I went home. I walked Kevin. I stared at the wall. I couldn't eat enough food. One night, I had black beans and chicken. Then some pita chips and hummus. Then a bowl of pasta with butter. I took a bite of the stick of butter. I stared at the wall.
I couldn't sleep. I could eat, though. Insomnia took me into the kitchen where I inhaled half a jar of pickles. I had a burger a day last week for lunch. I didn't care. I was numb.
Yesterday, I ate a healthy breakfast of oatmeal with flax seeds and two turkey sausage links. I packed my lunch and ate an almond butter and jelly sandwich, carrots and watermelon. On the way home I ordered delivery and slammed a chicken burrito in my face faster than you can say eating disorder.
I feel empty.
Yesterday, I had to pick my dad up from the airport. I had to get on 95. I had to try to deal with airport idiots. Some lady tried to merge into my car. And I blacked out. I got dizzy and my vision swam. Thankfully, my dad was at the curb and hopped in quickly. I realized I was holding my breath as he started chatting with me about his trip. I got him to the house and headed back to work. I wanted food. As soon as possible. Even thinking about driving to the airport right now is making my chest feel tight.
My car is supposed to be ready on Tuesday. I am looking forward to getting it back, as driving a rental is stressful for me. I hope getting my car back will make me feel less off. We shall see.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Mah-wage...
My little sister got married. It was awesome. She and Nick are wonderful and perfect together.
I had a double chin in all the photos taken by my family.
I also got bronchitis. I overextended myself, didn't get any sleep, and hung outside in the cold with no jacket on.
My mom said something to me and I, of course, got defensive.
"I wish you would take care of yourself better. Maybe you wouldn't get sick as much."
I took that as her calling me fat. Then I realized that I don't take care of myself. At all. I eat blocks of cheese for dinner. (I'm allergic to cow's milk.) Sometimes I order a large pizza and just eat it for a week. This is not taking care of myself.
So, after a week of hacking up my lungs and hating everyone and everything, I took all my garbage food and made it garbage. I went to the local health food store, and I got all my favorite things in allergen free versions. I plugged in my fitbit, which has been dead since September of last year. I started taking multivitamins and turning off the TV at 9:30 so I can get sleep. I've made myself breakfast every morning, which includes whole gran oatmeal with quinoa and flax, blueberries, and almond milk. I've packed my lunch and started waking up early to walk Kevin around the block (1,250 steps!)
I lost two pounds. But it's not really about that. It's about being healthy and happy and making a positive change. I have seen a major difference in how I feel and how I behave. And I'm hoping that makes a difference in my life.
I had a double chin in all the photos taken by my family.
I also got bronchitis. I overextended myself, didn't get any sleep, and hung outside in the cold with no jacket on.
My mom said something to me and I, of course, got defensive.
"I wish you would take care of yourself better. Maybe you wouldn't get sick as much."
I took that as her calling me fat. Then I realized that I don't take care of myself. At all. I eat blocks of cheese for dinner. (I'm allergic to cow's milk.) Sometimes I order a large pizza and just eat it for a week. This is not taking care of myself.
So, after a week of hacking up my lungs and hating everyone and everything, I took all my garbage food and made it garbage. I went to the local health food store, and I got all my favorite things in allergen free versions. I plugged in my fitbit, which has been dead since September of last year. I started taking multivitamins and turning off the TV at 9:30 so I can get sleep. I've made myself breakfast every morning, which includes whole gran oatmeal with quinoa and flax, blueberries, and almond milk. I've packed my lunch and started waking up early to walk Kevin around the block (1,250 steps!)
I lost two pounds. But it's not really about that. It's about being healthy and happy and making a positive change. I have seen a major difference in how I feel and how I behave. And I'm hoping that makes a difference in my life.
Sunday, December 13, 2015
It's been a while...
I haven't been good about blogging. It's not that I haven't had things to write about, because I have had things to write about.
It's not because I don't want to write. I love writing.
It's because I don't want anyone to worry.
I haven't been ok lately. I'm not sure what it is, but I haven't felt at all like myself. There's a dark cloud over me and it's been pretty hard to get out from under.
Last night, I went to my friend Tiffany's wedding. At about 11 am, I started panicking. It was in Miami. I'd have to drive an hour and 22 minutes. I checked the invite time 5 times. Made plans to walk Kevin at 1 and then get ready. I tried 5 outfits on. I couldn't decide. I didn't want to go. I dreaded going. My stomach was in knots. "Something can come up. She'll understand."
I love Tiffany. LOVE HER. Her fiance, now husband, is wonderful. They are great, fun people and I love the fact that I was around when they first started hanging out. I love them. I love her family. But I couldn't get my brain to stop worrying about the whole thing.
I went. I sat through the beautiful ceremony and looked into the eyes of two people who are incredibly perfect for each other. I cried during their vows. I watched them kiss. I watched them dance. I made small talk with everyone at my table. I ate dinner. It was delicious.
Then the panic sank in again. I was going to have to make more small talk. I was going to have to dance, when my body felt like it had been beaten on. My arm hurt...I'd left the sling at home. My bra straps were showing. My heart started racing. I excused myself and went to the bathroom. Looked at myself in the mirror. Tried to give myself a pep talk. And couldn't.
I texted a friend that something had come up at a work party and I had to go. I left mid-best man speech. I clutched my clutch and waited for the valet to get my car. I raced home and into a flannel shirt and pajama pants. I read. I watched a shitty movie and I berated myself.
Today, I did laundry. After the first load, I was exhausted. I slept until 9:30am and by 11am I wanted to take a nap. I held off. Did more chores. Sat back on the couch. Fell asleep at 2:30 and woke up at 5. Walked Kevin. It was a chore. Came home and sat some more.
I have been laying in bed for an hour, unable to sleep. I realized just now that this is absolutely no way to live. I signed up for some e-counseling and will be going to see my GP about upping my meds. I invited all of my local close friends over to my house this Saturday. There were 8 people to invite and 3 of them are family members. This is not what I want my life to be. I can't keep being lonely and sad and angry at myself. I can't keep saying to myself that everyone else probably has other things to do so I should just wait until they reach out to me. I'm going to try to be better. To feel better.
It's not because I don't want to write. I love writing.
It's because I don't want anyone to worry.
I haven't been ok lately. I'm not sure what it is, but I haven't felt at all like myself. There's a dark cloud over me and it's been pretty hard to get out from under.
Last night, I went to my friend Tiffany's wedding. At about 11 am, I started panicking. It was in Miami. I'd have to drive an hour and 22 minutes. I checked the invite time 5 times. Made plans to walk Kevin at 1 and then get ready. I tried 5 outfits on. I couldn't decide. I didn't want to go. I dreaded going. My stomach was in knots. "Something can come up. She'll understand."
I love Tiffany. LOVE HER. Her fiance, now husband, is wonderful. They are great, fun people and I love the fact that I was around when they first started hanging out. I love them. I love her family. But I couldn't get my brain to stop worrying about the whole thing.
I went. I sat through the beautiful ceremony and looked into the eyes of two people who are incredibly perfect for each other. I cried during their vows. I watched them kiss. I watched them dance. I made small talk with everyone at my table. I ate dinner. It was delicious.
Then the panic sank in again. I was going to have to make more small talk. I was going to have to dance, when my body felt like it had been beaten on. My arm hurt...I'd left the sling at home. My bra straps were showing. My heart started racing. I excused myself and went to the bathroom. Looked at myself in the mirror. Tried to give myself a pep talk. And couldn't.
I texted a friend that something had come up at a work party and I had to go. I left mid-best man speech. I clutched my clutch and waited for the valet to get my car. I raced home and into a flannel shirt and pajama pants. I read. I watched a shitty movie and I berated myself.
Today, I did laundry. After the first load, I was exhausted. I slept until 9:30am and by 11am I wanted to take a nap. I held off. Did more chores. Sat back on the couch. Fell asleep at 2:30 and woke up at 5. Walked Kevin. It was a chore. Came home and sat some more.
I have been laying in bed for an hour, unable to sleep. I realized just now that this is absolutely no way to live. I signed up for some e-counseling and will be going to see my GP about upping my meds. I invited all of my local close friends over to my house this Saturday. There were 8 people to invite and 3 of them are family members. This is not what I want my life to be. I can't keep being lonely and sad and angry at myself. I can't keep saying to myself that everyone else probably has other things to do so I should just wait until they reach out to me. I'm going to try to be better. To feel better.
Monday, September 28, 2015
If it makes you happy!
I have a fantastic life.
I have a fantastic family. A fantastic dog. A fabulous house. Great friends. A job that only makes me want to stab people with spoons occasionally. Enough money to pay bills and enjoy myself every now and then.
In general, I'm happy. I am aware of the blessings in my life.
My brain chemistry is not always on the same page.
The other day I cried at work. A lot. I couldn't stop. I had an altercation with a co-worker and I wasn't feeling 100%, and I cried. And cried. Chef brought me blueberry bread. My co-worker brought me Kleenex. I blew my nose into the Kleenex.
I posted about it on Facebook. I am an oversharer.
My grandma saw. Called my mom. Was worried.
Mom told Dad. Dad commented, "I just don't know what it will take for her to be happy."
I am happy. I AM. I REALLY, REALLY AM.
But sometimes, my brain tells me I'm not. Sometimes, I have to cry. I can't control it. It controls me. And then, I'm fine.
I have a fantastic family. A fantastic dog. A fabulous house. Great friends. A job that only makes me want to stab people with spoons occasionally. Enough money to pay bills and enjoy myself every now and then.
In general, I'm happy. I am aware of the blessings in my life.
My brain chemistry is not always on the same page.
The other day I cried at work. A lot. I couldn't stop. I had an altercation with a co-worker and I wasn't feeling 100%, and I cried. And cried. Chef brought me blueberry bread. My co-worker brought me Kleenex. I blew my nose into the Kleenex.
I posted about it on Facebook. I am an oversharer.
My grandma saw. Called my mom. Was worried.
Mom told Dad. Dad commented, "I just don't know what it will take for her to be happy."
I am happy. I AM. I REALLY, REALLY AM.
But sometimes, my brain tells me I'm not. Sometimes, I have to cry. I can't control it. It controls me. And then, I'm fine.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
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