Sorry for the immediate tag onto the previous…didn’t see your post, Taters. Glad Mom’s surgery went well, even if she was sick afterwards. Keep us updated on how she’s doing.
GT
Upstairs neighbours are being bangy and stompy. If they’re still doing it after eleven I’ll go up and shout at them. I wonder if the last guy has moved out? He was pretty quiet.
No baby news yet.
Li Li, do we know what gender baby will be? If it’s a girl, have I got a boy for her 
hi MMPers
Not much to say… the play is over. I’m sick again. Life sucks*.
I really want some chex mix.
*My life does not actually suck very much. It just feels like it does.
Chex mix is good. Puppy chow (that chex coated in chocolate/peanut butter/icing sugar thing) is even better.
We don’t know if it’s a boy or girl. Have to wait until actual birth. How old-fashioned.
Tomorrow is baking day. I have danish dough thawing, and I think i’ll make some nice white bread. I may also try to sucker someone into taking me out somewhere, or borrow Mr. Lissar’s metropass and go wander around. He won’t be home until five, so I’ll have time to do the baking and cleaning.
::sigh::, I was hoping for something more… pornographic. 
Taters, I’m glad to hear the surgery went well. That was actually one of the things I was thinking of while the blood oozed out of me today - “someone I know, or the loved one of someone I know, may need this! So what is the sight of a railroad spike being driven into my arm into comparison to that…”
The entire donation process was a hoot. The local Red Cross chapter has recently built a new donation center, and I haven’t been to the new one until today. When the RC rep called me last week to ask for a donation, I knew what road it was on, but asked for what side of the road. Veteran’s Parkway (the road in question) is very busy and I knew I would be more likely to find it quickly if I was only scanning one side of the road while driving.
Asshat told me the wrong side of the road. Thank Og Mama always taught me to be early, or I would have been late.
I get into the intake room with a really nice, personable nurse who: 1) can’t find a vein and has to call in another nurse to see if I’ll be able to donate; 2) can’t get my information up on the computer, and I’ve given blood at least twice a year for 10 years, and 3) can’t get my blood pressure even though I’m sitting there breathing in front of her. I’m glad she was nice and laughing about it. If she had been a bitch I would have walked out. I’m stressed out enough about needles without dealing with that.
Get in the chair, and my luck is holding - I draw another nice nurse who gets me with the first stick and even drapes a cloth over my arm so I can’t see the needle while the donation is taking place. When I remark that the needle is large enough to drive a small truck through, she starts laughing while another nurse close by agrees with me!
So all went well. Another pint or so of SCL is going out to infect the world with kitty love, and the experience was so nice I might not wait another six months as I usually do.
My nephew’s play is over and he is really depressed—post-play letdown.
How did your Dr’s appointment go last week?
I used to give blood twice a year, all through college, and then at my job (they’d have blood drives) But then came the klutzy nurse, the accusation of weak veins (which was bull), the fainting, and the big purple bruise the next day (plus it still hurt) and that’s when I stopped.
Hey y’all! Miss me? I didn’t post at all yesterday cause I was an ill bear. Nothing big, just sinusy, so I stayed home and stayed drugged most of the day. I did sneak in and read up early yesterday evening, just didn’t post.
Taters glad that mom is doing well. Good thoughts and prayers still headed her way from Jawja.
Mika the movie synopsis is interesting. Way too much going on for somebody with my attention span though.
SCL I remember when Veteran’s Parkway was called a bajillion different names. Stuff like “Expressway” and “Beallwood Connector” and a couple of other names. Columbus is kinda infamous for having long roads with lots of different names. I still need to get up to Columbus and say howdy. Maybe we can go have lunch at Chef Lee’s (YUM!) or somewheres. Ya know, it’s not like it’d be hard for me to do this. I drive through Columbus on my way to visit my mother and sometimes when I’m going to Etlanner and don’t feel like braving the horror that is I-75.
LiLi yay for the impending niece/nephew!
Dots glad the play went well. Let us know how things went with the doctor, ok?
To whomever I missed and whatever I missed. Congrats, feel better, yay, aww, and stuff.
Glad to hear things went well, Taters.
A whole spate of feel-betters to Swampy, Dorothy, Taters’ mom, and whoever else needs them.
The Odyssey of the Cat Bite* seems to be drawing to a close. The redness and swelling was completely gone by yesterday afternoon, after just one of the antibiotic pills. It’s still a little sore, but not nearly as hurty as it was on Monday. Also on Monday, I had the incredible foresight to bring in yogurts for work snacks - before I even knew I would be on antibiotics! - so I will be dutifully maintaining my intestinal fortitude.
*The cat’s name is Cricket, so I guess I could call it a Cricket bite, and then show everyone the puncture wounds on my hand. “Yup, them crickets is mighty feisty 'round these parts.”
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! bonkeydear, that was FUNNY!!
taters, glad the surgery went well. li li, is the baby here yet? swampy, of course we missed you! I am sorry you are having such a terrible time with your sinuses this year. I’ve heard it’s the worst year ever for pollens. Even my dog is taking Claritin.
I have never given blood. I don’t know why. Maybe I have an aversion to big fat needles because of the several different surgeries I’ve had. Big ol hematomas aren’t my favorite form of body enhancement.
Not much going on for me on this Hump Day other than the usual.
Tupug
Take all your antibiotics, no matter what how healed the wound looks. <looks sternly at TWO >
I used to give blood twice a year, too. And then they would NOT leave me alone–they wanted to give every 6-8 weeks (um, no). They wanted me to give even after I told them I had been diagnosed with anemia (the name escapes me, but my MCV was low–that’s mean corpuscular volume-meaning I had itty bitty red blood cells). They suggested an iron supplement and come in anyway. I told them, take me off your list.
I believe in giving blood. I don’t mind it one bit. I do mind being hounded and told that my MD’s advice to NOT give should be ignored. :rolleyes:
I give at the church blood drive now–it’s the same company, and I tell them there and then-do not put me on the call list.
#2 son to bus. More later
Happy Hump Day
I was up early this a.m. - after about 4 hours sleep. So I did some chorus PR work before getting ready for work.
and because this is the 3rd Wednesday - I get to have pancakes for dinner (my “homies” meet once a month at a local iHop)
More bragging on the “You’ll see less of me” department.
I saw my endocrinologist yesterday.
- My resting BP was 120/60, and has been consistently that low since January.
- LDL was 25, which is below normal; HDL was 70, normal.
- HgA1c was back to 7.0, down from a minor spike of 7.5 in February, directly related
to my hypoglycemic episodes I was having at the time. - Just about every other she checked was utterly normal, except for a liver enzyme
and something that indicates my ability to absorb protein (more momentarily) - Albumin was good, so I’m not having any problems metabolizing protein once it
gets into my system
I was pronounced to be utterly normal now, and in great health at the chemistry level. I’m now down to 2 prescriptions, from the 6 I was taking at the time of my surgery. She said I could probably reduce or stop my BP med too, but it wasn’t her call to make.
The liver enzyme was my SPGT, and it was 3 times the normal value. The suspected culprit is the Vytorin I was taking for my cholesterol. Given the cholesterol numbers I had, it was a no brainer to stop it and my slow niacin to give my liver a rest, and see how the enzyme and cholesterol number behave over the next 3 months.
The protein marker (I forget the name) is marginal. I had to remind her a couple of times that I had the surgery, and that relieved her. In that context, it is also a good value at the moment, but bears watching.
Now, the sad part. She’s leaving the practice for a new one out of state, and I liked her a lot. One of the few doctors I’ve dealt with that gave me credit for having brains of my own; she was grumpy and sarcastic, which appealed to me greatly; and she was an absolute babe besides. Oh well. I was probably going to dump her anyway after we move to NC in the next couple of months…
Mr. Anachi had the same results from Vytorin. He still needs to take cholesterol meds but is now on Lipitor and having much better results.
Good on you, bobbio for the great checkup.
bobbio, I’m with you there, I hate losing a doctor you like. My long-time doc retired 7-8 years ago, and I floundered a while before I found Dr. Beth.
Kind of a settled day planned here. All my pre-board meeting work will by necessity, be done by noon. I’ll try and arrange someone to put a new starter on the Kid’s Corolla, clean up the in-box and put down a revolt or two.
TWO, I’ve mentioned it before in another thread, but I’ve played with, been bitten, scratched and mauled by cats for years without so much as even a little redness, let alone a full-blwon infection. People here tell me I’m dodging bullets, but I like to think I’m preparing the kids for the day when aliens shaped like human hands invade the earth. The cats will be our first line of defense.
Speaking of redness, rigs, how’s the tea spot looking?
Boy, was it fun.
10:00 p.m. Monday night: After watching Aladdin with Mandi (at my insistence, I had one of the songs stuck in my head), I became aware of a growing pain in the midsection, worse than usual. I made the decision to go to the hospital–only because my doctor has no affiliation with the hospital I live two blocks away from, I have to go to St. Barnabas. I cry a little, call my mom, and try to convince Mandi that it could take a while and she shouldn’t spend her whole night in the ER with me. She listens not a bit, knowing my mom would kick her ass should she not accompany me. On the way to St. B’s, I realize that I don’t really know how to get there, but after a few road work detours, we find the place.
11:00 p.m.–Registered and everything, we sit in the waiting room. I realize I forgot to bring a book, I discover I can’t sit at all comfortably in the chairs without slouching so I’m not bent at the hips, and I listen in on the drama unfoldng when an 18-year-old kid comes in with a head wound from a skateboard fall. His friends are covered in blood, his father is hopping mad and accusing his girlfriend of pushing him, and his mom is trying to make peace. I wonder how that worked out.
12:45 a.m.–Mandi realizes that the chairs in the waiting room move, and we are able to make ourselves a great deal more comfortable. Several other waiting people follow suit. Mandi’s a trendsetter like that.
1:15 a.m.–I get called. One would think that a hospital in Livingston would have less emergent cases. It’s not Newark, for fuck’s sake. I get a nice hospital gown that defies understanding and doesn’t flatter my coloring, and I lay down to wait.
1:30 a.m.–The doctor comes in, listens to my story, pokes me in the belly, and promises me some painkillers. He seems awfully surprised my actual doctor didn’t prescribe me any, says the wait for an ultrasound is going to be a couple hours, and fucks off.
1:45 a.m.–A nurse whose name bears a striking resemblance to Chlamydia arrives to put in my IV (which hurts, dammit). Before the words “Wait, I’m left-handed” can emerge from my mouth, I’ve got an IV stuck in my left arm. She promises she’ll be right back, and I work on figuring out how the snaps on the arms of my gown work. The TV, which it seems I have absolutely no control over, begins to play Herbie Fully Loaded, and I resign myself to watching Lindsay Lohan drive a Bug.
2:00 a.m.–Chlamydia returns with a painkiller, which gets shot right into my IV, then burns as it gets all flushed with saline. I ask her to go fetch Mandi so I can tell her to go home.
2:15 a.m.–After being woken up in the waiting room, Mandi comes in and refuses to go home like a good friend should, only conceding to go out and put gas in the car and get herself some food while I wait for my ultrasound. Herbie continues.
5:00 a.m.–Herbie has been replaced by Guess Who, which is about as funny and original as an Ashton Kutcher movie about race relations can be expected to be. Chlamydia comes in to inform me that apparently somebody has lost my ultrasound request, and “they’ll be right down to get me.”
6:00 a.m.–Mandi wakes up and comes to visit me, which is about when I start crying with frustration. I haven’t slept in 24 hours, haven’t eaten in almost 12, haven’t had a cigarette in 5, the painkiller has worn off, and it appears I’ve been forgotten again. Mandi goes out to the desk to find out who you have to screw to get an ultrasound in that place, and I go to the bathroom. This is right about the time I become unnaturally fixated with the idea that my alarm clock is set at home, and should be going off shortly.
6:15 a.m.–With another promise that “they’re coming to get me now”, Chlamydia informs me that I need a full bladder for the ultrasound. I complain that I’d just emptied mine, and the dreaded Foley catheter comes into play. I don’t know if it’s supposed to hurt like that, but I really wasn’t in the mood, and complained volubly to Mandi once it was finished, with at least a little bit more crying. I’m not proud.
7:00 a.m.–Chlamydia, fed up with Ultrasound, decides to take me down there herself. The department nurse, Monique, asks me how I am, and seems to be rather surprised when I burst into tears. She got me some tissues, which is more than anybody else thought to do, and a blanket, because I was frickin’ freezing. The ultrasound tech finally arrives, and I discover that I never needed the foley catheter, and she’s nice enough to take it out for me. Then there’s some more ultrasound probing, and they take me back a new exam room in emergency.
7:45 a.m.–I return to the ER, and there are new doctors and nurses on duty. The new nurse, Arlene (whose name sounds nothing like a sexually transmitted disease), takes out my IV and promises me more drugs while we wait for my ultrasound results. She returns pretty damn quick with a shot of something that made my arm ouchie but the rest of me pretty okay. I find Angel on the tv (which I can control in my new room), and Mandi and I watch that. I think I might have slept for a little while.
8:30 a.m.–Cute Bald Doctor tells me that according to the ultrasound, my old cyst is gone, to be replaced by a new, improved, bigger, and hemhorragic cyst which is causing me pain. I get a prescription for some anaprox and another for some vicodin, and Mandi and I at long last leave the hospital just before nine. We stop at Burger King for breakfast on the way home, decide that we shall reward ourselves with DVDs later in the day, and crash for many hours.
And it appears my alarm clock did go off, but it must shut itself off if it’s going off for long enough. 
Drae, you poor baby! :lots and lots of hugs: I’m glad you had a friend but how terrible…
oh, my. Now do you go back to the doctor and wave the US under his nose and say, “see?” Or does this get taken care of surgically( I don’t know, so I’m asking).
I spent one noc in ER with my #2 son–he had severe bronchiolitis. I AM A FRIGGIN’ NURSE and I still got forgotten and ignored. One nice nurse got me a rocking chair (he was an infant), but I told the pediatrician–never again.
Nothing was done in the ER that I couldn’t do at home–we have a nebulizer etc. At home, I could have snuggled with him, under blankies on the soft couch and watched TV while he had his treatments etc.
I think ER just sucks, unless you’re a trauma pt–then it’s all good.
And IVs do indeed hurt–no way around it, really.
Today I clean and set up the DR as the satellite kitchen. Roofers finally came and finished the downspout and gutter work. I am still trying to clean up plaster dust. Ugh.
And I have this nagging feeling that I am forgetting something very important.
MBG -it’s not red, but it is tender today. It feels like the lightest of rug burns.