Health

I went for my semi-annual checkup with the gastro on Halloween. Visiting the gastro isn't so bad, because he's a good looking guy (hee hee). Visiting the vampires (sorry Poopie!) is the part I don't like. I've mentioned before that I have teeny weenie little veins and am only good for a poke in the left arm. There's no reason to even bother looking for something in my right arm.

With that in mind, imagine how I felt when I got a student. He was a really REALLY shy Asian kid who barely spoke English. I don't think he was even 20.

He told me that this was his first day in the clinic as a student and asked if it was OK if he drew my blood. Bless his heart, he was just too sweet and shy for me to turn down. I warned him that my veins are difficult but assured him that I don't mind if he trained on me. You gotta start somewhere, right?

I started regretting that decision when it took him almost five minutes to put on the rubber gloves. He struggled with those gloves like he'd never put on a pair in his life.


Then he put the tourniquet on. He was kind enough to ask me if it was too tight, and I said no because as far as I'm concerned, the tighter it is, the more likely it is that he'd find a vein.

He poked for a while with his finger and then looked at me and smiled. He found one!

Then he took off the tourniquet. Whaaaa? I'm not a lab technician, but I've had my blood drawn enough to know that the tourniquet stays on until you get the needle in the vein.

He started wiping my arm with alcohol and then I could see the lightbulb go on. He put the tourniquet back on and smiled shyly at me. I nervously smiled back.

I'm happy to report that he was spot on when he poked me with the needle. I congratulated him on such a fine job and he seemed pretty happy with himself.

I'm thinking Karma was in the works here. A good deed deserves a good poke.

Hmmmm... that didn't sound quite right.

I called the doctors office the minute they opened and made an appointment. After listening to my chest, measuring my oxygen levels and then getting x-rays, he confirmed that I have pneumonia.

The good news is that I got some high powered antibiotics and an inhaler so should feel better soon. The even better news is that I'm in my own home and not in a hotel room.

The best news of all is that I got the 'good' cough medicine (if you know what I mean...)

No wonder I felt so crappy.

Well, it seems that I've picked up the crud in my lungs. I was rattling so loud last night that I kept waking myself up and so I got about 3 hours of sleep. I'm guessing I have bronchitis for sure, pneumonia maybe.

I had to leave class early because I was getting dirty looks from the coughing. I'll admit it, it's an annoying cough. I sound like a donkey.

I have to wonder what I'm going to do on an airplane. Would YOU want to sit anywhere near me?

I didn't think so. Can't very well leave an airplane, now can I?

I picked up some guaifenesin (the main ingredient in mucinex) and am hoping that breaks things up between now and the time my plane takes off tomorrow.

Are you getting tired of all the whining this week yet? I sure am. Yet, I can't seem to stop myself.

If nothing else, my manager has been here this week listening to the misery. Now she has even more to add to her "Lori is such a sport" book.

Or, maybe she can use it in my obituary because I'm sure I'll be thrown off the plane tomorrow.

Signing off until Friday.

I've been going back and forth as to whether I should blog about this. BJ knows that I have *some* limits because I've told him many times, "Hey- at least I didn't blog about this". That proves it right?

I was complaining about a certain intestinal condition that's been going on since day 3 post op. My surgeon explained that in 1% of folks, the antibiotic they give you right before surgery kills the good bacteria a little too well and leaves one BAD bacteria in the intestines. The only way to test for that is to give the lab folks a little sumptin' in a cup. Ick.

The guy at the lab was a young, very cute guy. Movie star cute. So when he asked me if I needed him to explain any of it, I suddenly became an expert on the process. "Oh, no I don't need an explanation. My doctor explained it", etc. He seemed as relieved as I was to not have to talk about such matters. Off I went with my supplies. I did my thing then quickly passed the bag of goods back to the cute lab guy and left post haste.

When I got home and there was a call from the lab on my answering machine. They gave me four tubes and one container. I thought the container was for collection purposes, so they didn't get that back. Turns out I was wrong. Thankfully, I didn't have to go back to get another container, I was told that I could just bring it in in any container and I'd be fine. So that's what I did.

Three hours later I got a call from my surgeon. MY SURGEON! He said, "RisibleGirl, I'm really sorry but they messed up at the lab and we need you to go back." Apparently they put my sample in a preservative, which kills the very thing they're looking for.

I get to go back in this morning and give the gift that keeps on giving. I'm not sure anything produced by me has ever been in such demand!

I was laughing about this to my sis last night, saying this HAS to be some sort of cosmic joke. My sis then said, "Hey, maybe you're being PUNK'D!"

Aha! Finally! Someone pulled a great joke over on me. Well, FTS, I guess you have your story now, only I'm not quite sure who gets the credit for such a great prank.

Today is my last day of sitting around and doing nothing as long as my surgeon gives the thumbs up. I'll go see him in a few hours and then I'll give my boss the "I'm ready to go to work tomorrow" message she's been waiting for. It seems like forever since I've been to work, even though I've only been off for a week. Somebody call the workaholics anonymous hotline, please.

I had so many goals that I wanted to accomplish while I was off recuperating from surgery. Here's what I've learned: There's a REASON you take time off. It's so you can rest and heal. It's not just days off of work so you can get all your other junk done. Sheesh. Being an overachiever is a real pain in the patoot when you can't physically get the wherewithal to do said overachieving. It's like someone standing over you with a thumb on your head 24/7. I HATE IT!

Here's what I'd set out for myself to do in a week, but haven't done. Not even a lick of it.

• Redesign my blog (but maybe this weekend?)


• Go through the family's video tapes to see what is worth keeping (video of family) and what is not worth keeping (10 year old video recording of Mary Poppins or some such thing), because of course, none of it is labeled properly. Once I decide something is worth keeping, then record it to DVD.


• Finish scanning all of my photos


• Read and comment on all of my favorite blogs

Maybe next time I'll opt for a surgery with a 6 week recovery, rather than 10 days to two weeks.

All-in-all, I'm doing better than say, day 3. Holy cow, day 3 is a day I'd like to forget. Still not off the tylenol and I still groan when I get up and down (but then again, I did that before- it's just a different groan!), but I have more energy now and am done with napping every two hours. The good news is that as of today, I've lost 20 lbs between the pre-surgery dieting and the post-surgery don't feel like eating anything phase. I think that's a pretty nice jump-start to finally deciding to get this weight off. Mark.My.Words.

I will ask my surgeon why I'm sporting 6 holes rather than the 4-5 I was promised and why one of them is over 4 inches wide, rather than 1.5 inches "max". He's thrown out any chance I've had of a bikini modeling career. OK, maybe people don't want to see chubby 45 year old chicks in bikini's, but one can dream...

BJ has been a dream and has really cemented the deal, so yeah, I'll definitely keep him. He won't let me do a single thing. Sometimes I get sneaky and try to do stuff and I turn around and there he is with a disapproving look on his face saying, "Honey!" in a very "you go back and sit on the couch" tone. He's done everything and has actually kept up to my cleanliness standards (no easy feat). Awww, he's a good man.

I guess this has been a good week of lessons for me- not that I've actually accepted and learned those lessons, mind you. One of these days I'll learn that it's OK to just lay back and let the world keep revolving while I do nothing. Oh, and actually like it.

That's the hard part of the lesson. Enjoying nothingness.