Category Archives: Health

ET phone home! And buy me some clothes!

Geek, Health, , , ,

In which there are both aliens and my ass in the same entry, but I totally wasn’t abducted or anything.

SETI@home sent me a lovely email today reminding me that I’ve been a member since 1999 (!!!)… and that I haven’t returned a work unit in 153 days. The last unit I returned was from my work machine, but my employer made me remove BOINC about a week after I installed it – the bastards – and I just never got around to installing it on my laptop.

Until now! Let the data crunching begin!

New topic. Ready for the segue? Too bad, ’cause there isn’t one! Dieting is, in its fifth week, suddenly getting difficult. My caloric intake has been inching up steadily for the past week, and now I’m closer to 1500 calories – on a typical day – than 1200. I’ve just been hungry lately. (It’s probably the damned curse messing with my hormones.) I seem to have my hideous water retention problem under control though; restricting calories and exercising (well, a little) has the unintended benefit of reducing my overall sodium intake and keeping me from bloating up like a waterlogged corpse.

After losing 8 pounds right off the bat my weight has remained the same for the past two weekly weigh-ins, but I’m still losing inches: there’s just no reason for someone of my height to be walking around with 40″ hips, just none at all, and I’m safely back into the 30’s now and boy does my ass look better. Yay! (Note: If you know me IRL and tell me I don’t need to lose any weight, I’ll smack you, swear to God, right in your face.) (I mean, the whole weight-loss process and the necessity of it just irritates me, but one does what one must.) Long story short, both my dog and myself should be utterly svelte by late summer.

Speaking of summer (ta-dah! a segue!), I’ve got gigs coming up all over the place. (RB is a gig-booking fiend, especially considering that the band he’s booking has never done a show before and is therefore entirely imaginary thus far.) What I don’t have is gig clothes. I have got to go shopping, but I keep giving my money to dentists and veterinarians instead. Maybe I’ll get Becca to use some of her second-hand store fu to help me find a few cool pieces of clothing, before I start showing up to paying gigs in my fucking pajamas. Or maybe I can just get a t-shirt with an alien on it, and wear it to every single gig we ever do, and become known as “that singer with the one alien shirt she always wears.” A gimmick’s a gimmick, right?

Go, me. Yay. No, srsly.

Health, Music,

In which I’m so fucking healthy you would not even believe it.

I woke up before my alarm went off this morning. I did isometric exercises on the floor in my room. I took a shower. I made breakfast and ate it. I walked briskly to work. When I stopped for an iced latte, I even got soy milk. (Don’t worry, even though I’m a vegetarian I don’t eat enough soy for it to be dangerous. I have enough problems with my hormones as it is without introducing a bunch of phytoestrogens or a thyroid dysfunction into the mix!)

Last night at open mic, I did not order cheese fries. (I did have a few cocktails, though.) (I’m developing self-discipline, not spending a year dead for tax purposes.) Mmm, cheese fries!

I have no idea where all this motivation has come from, but I’m willing to admit that it might just be plain old vanity. I’ve noticed a trend that will, if left unchecked, have me waking up one morning shaped like a goddamned chicken (read: ball-shaped object on sticks) and I’m simply not into it. I’ve never really had a waist to speak of, but enough is enough.

In other news, RB is booking all sorts of gigs. Here’s what’s cookin’ so far:

(The boys’ gig calendar is here. I’m not necessarily doing all of the gigs listed.)

RB told me last night that he’s decided to bill me as ‘The New Queen of Blue-eyed Soul,’ which totally cracks me up. One rarely thinks of marketing oneself in such a way, but I suppose it’s just that sort of tagline that gets a girl gigs. And I like gigs. Now, if only the band members weren’t spread out all over two states it might be easier to actually practice together once in awhile.

Ouch! I need insurance!

Health

In which it sucked WAY more than usual.

This morning I rolled out of bed feeling all groggy and logy. I showered, put a bunch of product in my hair and then dried it stupid in spite of the effort, got dressed, and hiked to the dentist’s office. The hygienist gave me a bunch of topical and then three excruciatingly looong, slooow shots of local, and then proceeded to vibrate my brains right out of my ears with her handy-dandy little screeching ultrasonic.

When I left, half my face – and half my tongue – were still completely, utterly numb.

An hour and a half later, when the local wore off? Freakin’ OUCH! I actually had to take an ibuprofen, and I’ve never taken one after a planing & scaling before. (And this is my fourth time for this. I have a filthy mouth in more ways than one!) My gums felt like they’d been shredded to tatters and my jaw bone ached like I’d been punched.

This pisses me off because I’m the ideal dental patient. I’m calm, never nervous or twitchy, I’m pleasant, and I’ve even been known to drift off during cleanings. I’ve never had any aftercare issues, not even after the extraction of my wisdom teeth. But today? My mouth hurt. It’s not fair! I call foul! And the worst part is that I dropped over three hundred clams for the experience (because apparently my dentist thinks he’s in fucking LA).

In other news, I am officially rescinding my (never observed!) declaration that I was done talking about my uterus. The thing is healing itself with supernatural speed, and at the rate it’s going I’ll be having full-on insane life-threatening periods again in another ten months. I kid you not. The freakishly rapid regeneration of my uterine lining displeases me immensely, not only because it’s weirdly unnatural but also because there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to afford another ablation a year after the first one.

I totally need health insurance because I’m freakin’ falling apart here. Gums! Uterus! I need new contacts, too! At this rate, next year I’ll need a hip replaced. Srsly.

Energy Levels

Health

In which I’m not talkin’ about OPEC.

This morning I was walking to work and I realized that I have for the past few weeks felt physically better than I have felt for a similar length of time in years. I was walking along thinking, “I feel like me. Wow. How long has it been since I felt like this for more than a few days in a row?” I used to have such a high-energy physiology (it’s a little like being caffeinated, but without the caffeine. It’s awesome) but for years I’ve just been fatigued most of the damn time.

I think most of my general malaise and fatigue for the past many years has been cycle-related [for the past year, for instance, it’s been two weeks of feeling mostly normal followed by two weeks of near-exhaustion] and this month I just happen to be getting a break, but it sure is nice to feel motivated for more than ten days in a row.

It doesn’t hurt that I got to travel (I love traveling!) and that spring is here (I love warmth!), either.

Wednesday. And more about my stupid uterus.

Health, ,

In which it’s freaking growing back already.

I tried to go to Sweet Basil Pizzaria for lunch today but they were closed because they’re off having a baby or something. I wandered over to Merchant’s and ordered a sandwich, but they lost my order and I didn’t get it for a long time. I snarfed half of it and put the rest into a go box and walked back to work, where I logged in a minute late back from my break.

I have a box here at my desk containing half a veggie sandwich, some chips, and some potato salad. They also gave me a cookie for my trouble; hopefully it doesn’t have raisins or something equally gross in it.

The bad news is that I apparently possess supernatural powers of healing: I had three normal months after having my uterus scoured out (“normal” in this case meaning a schedule on which one bleeds for a few days, and then does not bleed at all the rest of the time), but now it seems the respite is over and I’m back to spotting all the time. This means my uterine lining is POSSESSED and is REPLICATING AT AN EVIL MAD RATE, A CONDITION THAT IS RIGHTLY TERRIFYING TO NATIONS AROUND THE GLOBE.

Stupid uterus.

Sickness Redux

Health

In which I can barely even think.

Sunday I woke up sick. And pissed off about it, too, because if you’ll recall I WAS JUST SICK and it isn’t time yet to be sick again. But sick I was. And pissed off about it, too, but I already said that.

Point is, my aunt was calling because my uncle was sick too and needed help setting up his computer and his ‘net connection at the new shop. So I let her come pick me up and then spent about four hours plugging stuff in and then cursing at a stupid little USB wireless adapter until it finally agreed to respeck my authoriteh.

I finally got home and collapsed into bed, where I promptly began to have a terrible fever.

It hurt. It sucked. I didn’t enjoy it one bit. I finally managed to crawl to my purse and get a Tylenol into my body and the rest of the weekend passed somewhat more coherently. The few hours I was actually awake, that is.

Now I’m at work. I am dizzy and cold, but I don’t actually feel too bad. I mean, when I’m not coughing I feel alright. Mostly I’m just out of it.

I came to work today because I close, and if I call in sick someone else has to work a ten-hour day. Not to mention that I’m taking 3 days off in two weeks to go to GBM and I’ve only been working here for four months and I don’t want them to know I’m a flake quite just yet.

God, I feel like crap. Stupid germs.

Germs

Health, ,

In which I’m felled by microorganisms.

germs.jpgGramma and I both have rotten colds. We’ve been drinking hot lemonade with ginger in it, and lazing about, and coughing, and sounding scratchy-voiced.

I have it worse than she does (her immune system’s been fighting germs now for 85 years and has wicked mad germ-fu), and slept 20 out of 24 hours the first day we came down with it. I missed a day and a half of work, too.

Right now I’m at work craving cheesy, fried foods, like I always do when I have a rotten cold.

In other news, you may have noticed the ‘box has been in Maintenance Mode a few times recently. I’ve been trying to upgrade to the latest version of WordPress, but it keeps telling me it still needs to be upgraded. I’ll probably mess with it more later. It will respect my authoriteh! …eventually.

Another Trip to the Dennis

Health,

In which my face is numb.

I’m revising my opinion of my new dentist’s office. They called me today and offered me a spot they had due to cancellation, and I went in at ten. The hygienist rocked; she cleaned half my mouth within an inch of its life.

That ultrasonic tool works really well, but I dislike it when it squeals in my eardrums and sinuses. It’s so strange, lying there in a chair with a total stranger touching my face – intimate because there are fingers on my jaw or lips, medical because of the latex gloves and the smell of disinfectant – while a science fiction sonata is played in strange, metallic overtones on the bones around my brain.

I got three shots of local. My lips are still numb, and my gums are beginning to ache. Doing call center work with half your mouth asleep is certainly a fun spin on an otherwise utterly unremarkable Wednesday.

The hygienist told me I was “excellent to work on.” And I totally am: I lie there with my mouth open and my eyes closed, and drift. I laughed a few times because my nerves weren’t telling me what they were supposed to: my tongue worked, but my lips felt swollen and weird. The hygienist worked for an hour and a half, scraping and ultrasonic-ing and digging and flossing. When she was done, she gave me a bag with dental goodies in it and told me to gargle with warm salt water.

My next appointment isn’t until February 2nd, but they said they’d call me if they get another cancellation. Yea verily, clean teeth shall be mine!

I can’t wait for the feeling to return to my lips, though.

A Trip to the Dennis

Health, ,

In which I’m not particularly pleased.

I had an appointment with Gramma’s dentist at 11:00 this morning. A tech took $119 worth of x-rays, and then I sat in a chair for 15 minutes and meditated. Then the doctor came in, looked at my films, poked my teeth, and told me I need two fillings. He told me I should either get braces (?) or have $2,000 worth of cosmetic porcelain work done to fix my upper front teeth, one of which is pushed slightly forward. There was no prophylaxis hygienist available, so I had to make a second intake appointment before I can make an appointment to get my teeth cleaned.

While the dentist was really nice and he looked sort of like Santa Claus, this is not the sort of service I was hoping for. Sure it’s neat to know that – if I had money – I could get fun things done to make my teeth look like those of a movie star, but I don’t want any of that shit. I want my TEETH CLEANED. And I should not have to pay for two preliminary appointments just to be able to get a prophy appointment!

The ‘cavities’ are two slightly soft spots on one of my molars. Sure, they might turn into real cavities, but considering that I’m nearly 40 and have never had a cavity in my entire life suggests that there’s really not a high risk of the tooth rotting out of my head in the next few months. Only one of the two spots even goes through the tooth enamel so I think spending $500 on fillings I don’t really need can fucking wait.

The doctor suggested that I have one of my top front teeth ground down and the one behind it filled in, and both covered with porcelain, to create an even-looking top arch. And if I should find I need to sit for a Rolling Stone cover shoot, I’ll certainly consider the cosmetic work then but right now all I want is to get my teeth cleaned.

I think I’m in the market for another dentist.

The final post about my vajayjay. I totally mean it. No, srsly.

Health

In which you already know way too much about it anyway, so this is my last post on the topic, I swear to God!

Tuesday morning I went to see my doctor for a post-op follow-up visit. He told me I could resume normal activities (which I interpreted to mean I could resume drinking cocktails). He said I may expect to be quite fatigued for the next couple of weeks while my body re-absorbs the endometrial tissue deliberately damaged during the ablation. He reminded me – yet again – that, while I am for all intents and purposes now sterile, ablation is not considered a birth control method and I’d better not get myself knocked up. And no “visitors” for another three weeks, either.

Luckily, I have no plans in that direction anyway. I mean, hello: I live in my grandmother’s attic. I don’t have a car, and I don’t even have a local tavern to frequent, so it’s not like I’m meeting any candidates (even if I was interested, which, after years of being nagged for sex, I am not). I think the sanctity of my sacristy will remain safely unsullied far beyond the proscribed (prescribed?) probationary period.

Did that last sentence totally amuse the hell out of you, too, or is it just me?

I’ll probably need to use panty liners for the next couple of weeks, he said, but after that there’s a likelihood that I’ll never have to buy feminine hygiene products again. I’m so fucking INTO that concept! I’ve bought enough Kotex in the past couple of years that I shouldn’t have to buy any more until at least 2010, I swear.

The uterus monster was a prolapsed polyp a bit bigger than his thumb, he said. It bled like a bitch when he cut it out, but he reports he did a good job removing its base during the ablation. (I take this to mean he’s hopeful that it won’t come back. God knows I don’t really want to undergo a hysterectomy; the recovery time for that shit is measured in weeks, not days.) Furthermore, he said, my endometrium was very, very thick. Which is why I bled a lot and all the time, and which is why having the roller ball ablation was a fantastic solution for me. I’m 39 and wasn’t planning on having kids anyway. Maybe five years ago, but certainly not now. Child-bearing is for the young and energetic and married; I’m entirely too set in my ways. Zero population growth and all that.

Overall, I feel totally kick-ass. My period is supposed to start on the 17th, but I doubt that it will. I’m not yet having the PMS symptoms I’m usually having by this time of the month (except for some random anxiety attacks), and my uterus is still healing. I bet I get a free pass this month.

Hopefully the next time I discuss the peachfish here on the ‘box, it will be to tell you that I found a nice friend who does interesting things in its vicinity, and NOT to tell you about any icky growths or disturbing gushes of fountaining blood! Can I get a hell yeah three times, my babies?

Update: I got a letter from the hospital today. They reviewed my charity application, and gave me 100% off! All I have to pay is the surgeon, the clinic, two labs, an assistant surgeon, and the anesthesiologist. I owe the hospital nothing! That’s five thousand dollars I don’t have to pay! OMG, I AM SO GRATEFUL.