Category Archives: 366

As It Turns Out

In the end, I didn’t go to the hospital. I feel like the past five days of my life have all been focused on my right ear, but come on, man! What the hell? I’ve never had that happen before and it was fucking uncomfortable and weird!

But I did not go to the hospital. I had finally made the decision to go, but then I bent over to dig my shoes out of the closet and a blister atop my ear burst and drained. The antibiotics kicked in, then. Finally.

Instead, I spent my day doing what I call Whirlwind of Power. That’s when I get a little manic and clean things. I cleaned three bathrooms, washed and dried (but have not yet folded) all the laundry, and I ran the vacuum upstairs. At the same time, I wrangled my husband and child and their various neuroses (that in itself is full-time work).

My house is clean. And now I’m wondering just what I was paying my cleaning ladies for. Oh, I was more than happy to pay them to clean so I wouldn’t have to, but… I just do a much better job than they do. I hate knowing that, because it means there’s not really a point to having them. Oh well.

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Oops

Yesterday was spent basically freaking out all over the place, so I didn’t write. That means today you get two posts, even though this one is going to be pretty short.

Here is a small glimpse into what I’m dealing with here:

Jillian: Mama, you know what my favorite thing is about Valentine’s Day?

Me: No, what is it?

Jillian: I like all the hearts because they mean love and we should love everybody in the world.

Me: Everybody? Wow, that’s really nice.

Jillian: Well, not bad guys.

Me: Why not?

Jillian: They’re bad guys! You can’t love them.

Me: Maybe if you tried to love them, they wouldn’t be bad guys anymore.

Jillian: No, we should just shoot them. With guns.

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OMGWTFBBQATM

So, since my battlefield medicine had exactly zero effect on my ear, I went to the doctor this morning. I have a rant about the rudeness of the ladies working in the doctor’s office, but I’ll save that for another time. Perhaps tomorrow.

Anyway, the ear. IT HURTS. It’s gigantic. And red. And did I mention it’s fucking painful? I’m pretty stoic about a lot of things, but this was worrying me so off I went.

I’ve mentioned it before, but I am some kind of medical marvel. Nearly every time I go to the doctor for some acute issue (spider bites, sinus infection, etc), the doctor goes “…whoa.” And then he or she calls in all of the other doctors to come look at whatever it is that I’m presenting. Today was no exception.

Usually, the doctor looks at whatever I’ve got and explains the various solutions available. This is almost always reassuring and makes me feel like I over-reacted, which is something I WELCOME because I’d rather over-react than UNDER-REACT which is apparently what happened today.

The doctor took one look at my ear and said “Oh my God. I’m putting you on super-strong antibiotics, starting 30 seconds after you can get the prescription filled and if you don’t show any improvement within 48 hours, go to the emergency room and get yourself set up with some IV antibiotics.”

Um, okay then. That’s a new one.

So now I’m worried. I’m glad, ever so glad that I decided to hit up the doctor today and not just let it go (as is my habit), but I’m extremely worried that the abx won’t touch whatever this is and that I will end up in the fucking hospital. I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THIS.

In calmer news, it’s not that the infection itself is threatening to eat my brain or anything. Dr. M said that it’s because it’s on my ear, and ears aren’t the fleshiest parts of the body. So the infection is likely going to attack the cartilage, and that can be a serious uh-oh-bad. Which we don’t want. It won’t kill me, necessarily (and good thing, because that would be highly inconvenient for me, not to mention a huge bummer), but it could permanently incapacitate my ear. My response? “How would I know?”

I hate my ears. They failed me. And when something or someone fails me, I am not inclined to look kindly upon that entity.

I’ll probably be okay. I’m supposed to take my temperature every four hours and see if I start to run a fever. Fever of 99 or above = emergency room. Nausea or dizziness = emergency room. Shooting pains down my neck = emergency room.

Let’s just say that I am slightly worried and I NEVER worry about anything if I can help it.

The very goodest news is that I am supposed to be in the doctor’s office on Monday ANYWAY to start working on my knee(s). So Dr. M said I should definitely mention it to Dr. SportsMed, so he can give it a quick check and see that I’m progressing. Assuming, of course, that I am not in the hospital on Monday, which I do not have time for.

After we left the doctor, we headed to Wegmans (obviously) to fill the Rx. Because it’s me, and because nothing I am ever involved in is EVER straightforward (unless it’s to my detriment, in which case the universe is highly organized and efficient), Wegmans could only PARTIALLY fill my Rx. I mean, MY GOD. What the fuck is happening? At least they DID fill it, and I was able to choke down my first horse pill of the 10-day abx rodeo.

I do not like antibiotics. I do NOT. I never have a good time with them. Sure, they usually do what they’re supposed to, but one time my FORMER dermatologist prescribed an antibiotic to deal with my grody cystic acne and I thought she was trying to kill me. Normally, I’d go into detail and tell you what happened there, but it was SO GROSS, I’d rather not. I just don’t need people looking at me and going “ewww, THAT HAPPENED?”

The last time I was supposed to do a course of antibiotics, it was right before we left for Scotland and the pharmacist was all “no alcohol while you’re taking these” and I was all “oh, ha ha. Like I’m going to go to where whisky was fucking invented and not have any.” And I survived. But this is sort of serious so I will be good and do exactly what I’m told, even if that involves going to the emergency room if this thing doesn’t improve by Saturday morning.

I AM SO ANNOYED.

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Battlefield Medic

I should probably go to the doctor more often.

I don’t though, because I am fairly decent diagnostician and battlefield medic. I have a pretty good grasp of basic first aid and can almost always figure out what’s going on with me. I credit these skills to my two years as the secretary for the Butler University/Methodist Hospital Physician Assistant program. Just in typing up student materials, I learned SO much.

A few weeks ago, I had an “ooh shiny” moment at Target and bought some sparkly earrings. I have a grand total of six holes in my ears (4 in the left, 2 in the right), and once I find earrings that my body doesn’t react to, I tend to wear them until they literally fall out of my ears. It’s been awhile since the last group of earrings, and like I said, these were very sparkly.

Unfortunately, half of my earring holes did not get along with them. You’d think that if I were having a reaction, all six would swell and get grody and that would make SENSE, but that isn’t what happened here. Three of them are just fine and three are not. It’s stupid.

Anyway, my right ear was giving me particular trouble and even though I’d taken the earrings out a couple days ago, the right ear was still being shitty. I was alternating between dousing it with peroxide and slathering it with Neosporin until yesterday evening when it got super-painful and swollen all of a sudden. I can only assume that something bit me (not an outrageous supposition, given the wide variety of crawling things in the basement), but I am generally sensitive enough to know when something is crawling on my neck toward my ear.

Or not.

Luckily, I sleep on my left side, so it’s not like I was smashing the poor ear all night. It’s huge and red and because it’s so swollen, the structure of my ear is comically simple. Instead of the creases and folds that characterize my left ear, this is just a lump of curved flesh sticking redly out of the side of my head. It’s extremely attractive.

And PAINFUL. The ear itself is actually fine – it’s the lymph node below that is swollen and it hurts every time I move my head. It’s this swelling that caused me to google my symptoms and see just how quickly the internet thinks I’m going to die. Apparently, I am not. Dr Google suggested Tylenol and warm compresses, which is what the bulk of my day has been made up of.

Side note – just how does one keep a warm compress warm? It lasts all of two minutes.

At what point would a normal person go to the doctor? I suppose if the pain and swelling persists through the weekend, I should maybe go get it checked out. I’m not sure that I want to do that, though. It will just cost me money and the doctor will just prescribe antibiotics that I won’t take correctly anyway (because I never do). If I could just have my own Rx pad, that would be much more convenient.

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If You Want Something Done…

I have had to let my cleaning ladies go. The household budget could probably afford it, but we’d all live a lot better if that expense were eliminated, so away it went.

I’m slightly sad about this, because now it means that I have to do all the shitwork I’ve been outsourcing for the past year and change. I do not like housecleaning. I never have. Oh, once in awhile I’ll tackle some particularly grungy project and that’s a good time, but on the regular, housecleaning is not high on the list of things I look forward to.

This past weekend, I got up on a ladder and de-fuzzied my ceiling fans. They hadn’t been cleaned since their installation in the summer of 2010, so it was definitely time. Plus, one of the light bulbs had gone out and it was messing with my sense of symmetry. Ideally, I’d like to get at the fans twice a year but we all know that’s probably not going to happen.

It’s been awhile since I’ve had to do anything other than light housekeeping (I keep the kitchen relatively disease-free and I have been known to run a broom over the floor from time to time), I had to buy a vacuum cleaner. We had one, but it was called into service during the renovation and cheap vacuum cleaners + drywall dust = death. That poor vacuum didn’t stand a chance and basically committed suicide. Things kept falling off of it, including a set of wheels on the underside that are apparently very necessary in the act of vacuuming.

So I needed a new one. And I spent another $100 and got a fancy purple thing. It’s… purple.

In testing it out, I found that it was picking up alarming amounts of dust and dirt and dog/cat hair. ALARMING. The cleaning ladies were due this week, so it had been about a week-and-a-half since the last vacuuming, but DAMN. Either we are excessively dirty people or the cleaning ladies’ vacuum was a bigger piece of shit than even my old one was.

No, I didn’t vacuum in the two weeks between cleaning lady visits. I don’t have that kind of motivation.

Yes, it’s gross.

No, I don’t care.

Anyway, I apparently need to vacuum more often. We’ll find out for sure in a couple of days when I do the whole house again – if I pick up the same amount of crap that I did in this last go-round, then I’ll know for sure.

(eta fbtest)

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Deep Breath

I am notoriously bad at not finishing what I start. My personality is probably the biggest reason why. If you’re into astrology at all, I’m an Aries and we are well-known for being Starter Fiends.

I get bored easily. That’s one of the major reasons why I’m not currently a professional musician. I just never liked to practice, and not to toot my own horn (ha!), but I never really HAD to. I suppose if I had, things would be different now but ugh, so much work, haha.

Lately, though, I’ve been getting better at finishing things, if you don’t count knitting projects. I haven’t finished a knitting project in forever, and that sort of sucks but there are just too many other demands on my time/hands/brain at the moment. Plus, I’m really mad at the current project and until I can get over that, I am sort of stuck.

Late last year, I stated my goal to complete an Ironman before I turn 40. I have just over three years to get that done, and I’m confident that I will be able to do it. I’m frustrated at the moment because I am injured and I don’t yet know just how bad it is or what it will take to fix it. We find that out next Monday. But that Ironman goal is still a firm goal, and I am getting started FOR REAL next Monday.

The good thing is that there are lots of smaller goals that need to be achieved before that one comes on the horizon. Goal #1: fix the leg. Then start running.

In the spirit of smaller goals, I have decided to write something on this here blog every damn day. From Gillian’s Birthday 2012 to Gilligan’s Birthday 2013, I will write some kind of something here for the world (all three of you) to see. It might not always be interesting, and goodness knows it will probably be less coherent rather than more, but there will be something here. Every day. After I’ve had coffee.

I have a feeling that 2012 is going to be a challenging year for me. Maybe it will be challenging in a good way, but if the first 9 days are any indication, this is going to be tough. It’s already been tough to keep my head up, to keep going, to keep on keepin’ on. I’ve considered meditating, for fuck’s sake. Me! Meditating! Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous?

I probably won’t start doing anything so crazy as that, but I am working hard to keep all my plates spinning. I hope I don’t neglect my own self in the process of taking care of everyone else. I find it hilarious that this happens, since I spent years being told how selfish and ungrateful I am. Looking at things objectively, I’m not selfish so much as self-centered (there’s a difference! I swear!), and as for ungrateful… I never understood where that came from, and only in recent years have I come to realize that the person saying these things to me is (and has been) completely batshit crazy, and anything he says should always be taken with a huge grain of salt and a good hard look at the source.

So there’s that.

As far as writing goals go, I don’t really have one besides the ‘write every day’ one. I don’t know what I’ll write about or where it will all go, but I will write. For me.

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