Lil sis and I are shown here wearing the "Party Crowns" I fashioned from items at the Nevada City Dollar Store, where everything is $1.29 (the twenty-nine cents makes a huge difference in quality, let me tell you!). We wore these to the convalescent hospital to visit Gpa, where we took over the building and turned it into a rave.
Being still is not my forte – physically, mentally, emotionally, I’m always moving. (Granted, it may just be wiggling my foot or something, but that’s the real reason I didn’t take the nude modeling job at UCD when I was unemployed: my max time of sitting still was about 38 seconds). Over the years I’ve taken different approaches to tackling my prayer life, but I came up with a new plan today.
On the right edge of my computer monitor are five sticky notes with five themes of prayer: Healing, Peace, Provision, Discernment, and Babies (got a lotta preggo friends at the moment!). On those sticky notes are written the names of friends and family who have particular needs in those areas. Each work day corresponds to one of the themes; my hope is that the visual representation and at-hand organization will add a little structure to my prayer life. When I’m distracted, in need of a break, or happen to glance over, I’ll be reminded of those people and their struggles, transitions, brokenness and joy. And in a season in my life that is filled with difficulties, I want to remember that God is Sovereign not only over my life, but over the lives of dear ones, near and far.
(The other option here would have been prayer-themed days-of-the-week underwear; while I have definitely prayed on the toilet, I don’t feel comfortable with the implications of that fashion choice.)
Let me know if you want to be added to one of those themes (I bet I can make your prayer request fit under one of those umbrellas!) – you might already be there ;)
I have no background in plant sciences or pathology. The other morning, I did find a worm on my baby bok choy plants, but my solution was to take the worm outside, not conduct a research study. As such, I often understand very little of what the Researcher is actually proposing to do with his or her funding, and it's really not necessary for my job. But sometimes, I see something interesting when reading through those lengthy Scopes of Work:
This is one of the slogans for the Don't Move Firewood campaign, which teaches of the ecological dangers of chopping firewood in one location and taking it to another. When you move firewood more than a mile or two from its point of origin, you risk introducing harmful pests and diseases into the new environment. The problem is especially acute in campgrounds, when nature-lovers bring their own wood for fuel.
Go ahead, count how many "that's what she said" references are in this post...
Yes, I'm happy to have the day off. In fact, I think we should have Thursday off every week. But I'm also thinking about the veterans I know, past, present, and future.
My grandpas and one grandma served in World War II, one as a Civil Engineer leading an African American unit, one as a scout in enemy territory, and the other as a nurse tending wounded soldiers. My dad's father came home severely affected by post-traumatic stress disorder, to the point where he spent most of the rest of his life in a VA hospital. All of them risked their lives for what they believed in.
I have friends today who are doing the same thing. They're sacrificing a comfortable life and putting themselves in harm's way to make the world a better place. Some are in the military, and others are in the Peace Corps, working for nonprofit organizations and as civil servants, or as a part of Christian community development movements in slum neighborhoods. They're fighting for human rights, clean water, freedom to walk the streets unafraid, enough food to keep bodies healthy, jobs to break out of poverty, education so girls can go to school instead of brothels. And I celebrate all of you today. Thank you for your service.
While waiting for my lunch to heat up in the break room today, I overheard some coworkers lamenting how tired they were. One of the IT guys, normally quiet and a fairly positive gentleman, piped up:
"I didn't want to get up this morning. I felt like I was going to jail."
There you have it. Some days, working in our office feels like being in jail. Maybe a visit from Prison Mike will help us remember how good we have it. Sure, we are confined to tiny gray cubicles, and we don't get outdoors time, and the circulation is bad (permanently winter, no matter the weather), and we get yelled at by guards - er, professors - all day, but we do get to wear whatever we want. And I look terrible in orange.
I contributed to Fibromyalgia research today! At least, that's how I'm going to look at it. Without sharing revealing information about an ongoing trial, I was (until 4pm yesterday) part of a study that was looking at how therapeutic doses of a hormone supplement could help with symptoms of fibromyalgia. I experience such weird symptoms on a regular basis that I didn't think much of my increased heart rate that would onset at odd times, as it usually resolved itself fairly quickly, but it got particularly bad on Friday as I was enjoying a bagel at my desk. And worse when I walked to the break room to call the doctor. By my calculation, I was at 150 bpm from walking 25 feet. While waiting for a callback, I started getting woozy, experiencing numbness in my feet, feeling nauseous, and generally about to pass out.
Albert decided to take me to the ER, where I had a very redeeming hospital experience (because believe-you-me, I have some pretty bad medical treatment stories!). I was admitted right away, and taken care of by this great nurse who was amused by how fascinated Albert and I were by everything. It was pretty dramatic - I had an EKG, was taken via gurney to the X-Ray lab, had lots of blood taken for a full workup, had a really hard time balancing well enough to pee in a cup but managed okay, and even had oxygen tubes up my nose. Albert snapped a picture.
On a side note, can anyone explain to me how oxygen bars are fun? I'm sure that it helps when the tubes aren't rubbing against your already allergy-irritated nostrils, and you're not in the ER, but still...
So three-and-a-half hours later (which is pretty fast for all the tests they did, and felt much faster to me since I was so out of it), I was released on the condition that I would get further testing from my regular doctor. I'm not allowed to drive or have caffeine for a while, but have pretty much been sleeping and staring anyway. I should mention that Albert is, as always, basically the best boyfriend in the world. He hung out with me in the ER, sitting on my feet to warm them (which, at his weight, is not a problem, except for the lack of cushion in the flat area between his back and legs), and bought me supplies to last through the weekend, as he had to go home.
It's kinda cool to know that I will be the asterisk in this study in a few months/years, and I truly hope that I am one of those rare cases with side effects. This study team is doing such great work to find out more about Fibromyalgia, and it's encouraging to know that in the coming years and decades, it won't be such a mystery disease anymore. They've been so affirming, too, of what I'm going through physically, and even said that my positive attitude was helpful to them. These are the things that keep you going.
Not what they were singing about. And yes, it's a little awkward for me to write about, but if I really want to go into maternal and child health, I need to start overcoming the stigma.
Ovaries.
I thought maybe my appendix was about to blow on Friday. Severe pain radiating to my belly button, nausea, slight fever - all signs point toward yes. Albert the amazing drove me through rush-hour, 4th-of-July weekend traffic to make it to UCDMC for an ultrasound before the weekend hit, while I downed a giant glass of iced tea to fill my bladder (needs to be transparent so they can better see your organs when they jam the probe up your - well, you get the idea). The sexist technician on duty said, "well, you better pee before you leave here, or you'll make your boyfriend pull over, and demand that he find a CLEAN gas station for you to go at."
"Actually," (and mind you, this is small talk during while a metal probe is taking images of my lower abdominal region), "I spent two summers working in the slums of Calcutta, so I can go pretty much anywhere."
"Oh. Wow."
Sometimes, you need those small victories in the midst of such indignity imposed by being sick for a long, long time.
I was told I'd have to wait a couple of days for results, but if the pain got worse, I could always go spend a couple thousand dollars at the emergency room. I decided that with the help of WebMD, I could do just as good a job at diagnosing myself, especially with the helpful little symptom checker. It's like playing with a paper doll, except that instead of dressing it up in different clothes, you get to assign different diseases to Jane or John Doe.
Ok, the abdominal pain was the most important part. You get to pick the quality you want to assign to your pain - dull, achy, sharp, tingly, feels like fireworks are igniting from a vital organ. But my left big toe had also started hurting quite suddenly along with my left hip, with no apparent external damage. And I had a throbbing headache. And my teeth were itchy. So I plugged all of these symptoms into WebMD, and it gave me the diagnosis: hypochondriac.
Anyway, my appendix is fine, but they found a giant hemorrhagic cyst - in the test results, the doctor wrote that it had basically taken over my right ovary (???). So the right ovary is something like six times bigger than the left and filled with blood. That image creeps me out, especially since I can feel the warmth radiating from the small protrusion from my right side, which did I also mention hurts A LOT? Still waiting to hear what this means, but cysts are a pretty common painful-but-benign ailment.
Why did I decide to tell you all (assuming someone reads this entry) this?
1. If we had talked about hanging out, or if I haven't responded to a message, this is probably why. I'm still trying to make it through the full work day since I am way out of sick leave, and that's about all I have energy for. Thank you for understanding that I still love you!
2. This makes me think: if ovarian cysts are so common and not generally caused by diet, environment, etc, how do women in the community I worked in handle this type of pain without any kind of drugs or the ability to take a break from working so that their kids might be able to have a meal that day?
3. With all of the health issues that have come together for me this year, it can be cathartic to share as an (un)health humorist. Laughing at the ridiculosity of a situation is powerful AND fun, as is making up words.
