“Don’t surrender your loneliness / So quickly. / Let it cut more deeply. / Let it ferment and season you / As few human / Or even divine ingredients can.”
— Hafez, poet (1315-1390)

* can’t talk about some things because. you know. let’s not get dooced.

* can’t write about other things because. you know. i have a 7-year-old, a 10-year-old and a husband who like their privacy. and would appreciate it if i told their side of things, sometimes.

* i can’t. they can just take comfort in knowing that i try, every day, to NOT talk about them — with co-workers, with friends, with family, with Internets. Years of therapy? I’m paying for my own, can’t afford anyone else’s.

* met with my surgeon/doc today for “pre-op” appointment. For those of you not “in the know,” that means “pre-operation” appointment that you go to before they slice into you, where you discuss pain meds; the need to avoid tylenol and aspirin for two weeks beforehand; how you “probably” won’t have to stay the night; how much better you’ll feel, after; how you’re not supposed to eat anything 12 hours prior to surgery. (This means I’m supposed to stay up til 2 a.m. — doc’s words — to have “a little something,” since the surgery isn’t skedded til 2 in the afternoon.)

* i can barely stay awake past 7:30 p.m. This should be interesting.

* also, if you’re me at least, and i know i am, you will discuss how “great” it is that your blood pressure is only 90/60. Haha! I work out! I take beta-blockers! I am a calm, stress-less person! Pop quiz: which of those statements is “fact”? Give up…????

* Two are fact; one is fiction.

* Now can you get it?

* I am probably one of the most tense, stressed-out people you could ever meet. True. That. True, that. True, that, to infinity and beyond. I am not proud of this, i am ashamed of it. I do not wear it on my sleeve like a badge of courage. It’s the reason why I try to eat right, get some kind of exercise every day, write in my journal, have a job i love, spend time with my family and friends who are all really nice, cool people. I don’t have an addiction to deal with, domestic abuse, a terminal illness. I have lost too many people, but honestly, haven’t we all? We all have had our losses.

* So when the medical assistant took my blood pressure, which i was convinced was going to be SKYROCKETING because i had HORRIBLE DAY — well. SKYROCKETING for me would mean 120/80 or something. Maybe 125/85 if I was just furious or something. I have this super-low blood pressure. Which is why i’m dizzy all the time. Also I take a beta-blocker, because I have funky heart condition. Because the thyroid issues and the girly issues weren’t enough, I suppose.

* Imagine my surprise when it was 88/58. The M.A. was a little worried. Said that would explain why I feel faint sometimes. “This, right here? This is the most pissed-off you are ever going to see me!” i told her. “OK, tell me about your day, then we’ll take it again.” hahahaha. I like that girl, she’s funny.

* “And THEN, and THEN, and SURGERY, and etc….” That’s how we got my BP up to 90/60, folks. It is good to have low blood pressure. It is not good to be close to passing out. i remember after giving birth to my baby girl, my BP went TUMBLING DOWN THE STAIRCASE and hit AN ALL-TIME LOW of 70 or 75 or something, over 47.

* Over 47, peeps. The monitor was all BEEPBEEPBEEPSHESDEADCOMEGETHEROUTOFHEREBEEPBEEPWENEEDTHEROOM
FORSOMEONEELSEGETAGURNEY and Steve kept flashing my pregnancy journal at them, w/ all the doc visit info, and the various BPs from throughout the months (we brought it because it was where we were scribbling, when we were timing contractions, i think? who knows.) And poor Steve kept gesturing, Here, here, and here, LOOK! SHE JUST HAS REALLY LOW BLOOD PRESSURE, SHE’S NOT DYING.

* Did I have a point with this post? the bullets? the ranting?

* Yes.

* Doc says tylenol = bad, bad, bad; morphine = good, good, good. Well. That has always been my motto, so I’m glad the Medical Community is finally catching up. Seriously — the “talk-talk” going around now is that we all, right here, right now, have ENOUGH TYLENOL IN OUR SYSTEMS TO LAST US A LIFETIME. Can i make that any CAPPIER for you? All kinds of people (who shouldn’t be, who are otherwise healthy) are showing up with liver disease and failure, cuz of TOO MUCH TYLENOL.

* interesting.

* But it’s okay, while i’m healing up, if i need morphine. only my BP will probably drop even lower, which could be, y’know. Problematic.

* think they’d let me bring one of those handy little machines home with me, just in case?

love,

wm

ps i always feel the need to give this disclaimer: i am no medical professional, go find yourself one if you need one.

pss — “Now, I’m not a pharmacist…” — comedian Kathy Griffin

ppss just remember: tylenol = bad; morphine = good

OK, some of you have been reading my blog for a long time. Remember this little post, from four years ago? Yeah. I’m having surgery for Christmas. Because a girl should treat herself once in awhile, don’t you think?

send. good. thoughts.

stupid uterus. it’s just like with my thyroid — broken. had to go. all broken parts must go, especially once they start torturing me. am being tortured by my own damn body. everyone i’ve talked with keeps saying “night and day.” “Afterward, it’s just like night and day, the difference. You will not regret it.”

but still, i feel like a dog who is about to be spayed. that is just a horrible thought, I need to get that thought out of my head. This has nothing to do with my female-ness. My qi. It will be okay. Giving up white sugar, white flour, stress, you know what? It wouldn’t change things. My body just grows strange growths, that’s all. It’s a little trick it likes to play. I have de-stressed a lot, but life just includes some stress. even a hermit in a cave somewhere has stress. (“Cold in here. Out of food. Damn. And I have cramps again. Damn.”) The cramps go with you wherever you go is the thing.

okay i have to go to work now. and my son is playing Wii-Fit Plus (which rocks, by the way — lots of new games, and you can customize the work-outs so you don’t have to start and stop all the time). It’s the woot-doot-doot-do-do-doot music that is making me a little distracted here. that, and surgery. at least we have insurance. stupid America.

love,

wm

From Flu.gov:

If your child has any of these signs, seek emergency medical care right
away:

* fast breathing or trouble breathing
* bluish or gray skin color
* not drinking enough fluids
* severe or persistent vomiting
* not urinating or no tears when crying
* not waking up or not interacting
* being so irritable that the child does not want to be held
* flu-like symptoms improve but then return with fever and worse cough

WTF? (“why the face?”) (what, you didn’t know that’s what it stands for?) Kid still sick, fever, coughing, asthma. and 2 kids in her class w/ swine flu. allegedly. (confirmed.) Doc’s office says Send her to school! I’m listening to her brilliant teacher and our equally gifted school secretary and keeping her home, thanks.

That is the lousiest advice the doc has ever given me!

Edited at 8:20 p.m. to say — yeah, big surprise. I’ve had a sore throat for a week or longer, now comes the fever. I’ve got whatever Wacky Girl has. My little sweetie is having to use her nebulizer — asthma is kicking our asses again. Fever is coming down with tylenol, but she just is exhausted. Still cannot believe that the “advice nurse” at the clinic told me, “Mom. Mom!” (may I interrupt to say, I’m not your mama, mama. People I gave birth to may call me mom. No one else.) “100 is not a fever, that’s normal. Even 101, 102. It’s when you get to 104.4…” (again, WTF?) “…that’s when there is a problem.”

Funny, see. Because the best advice I’ve ever received on kids and fevers (anyone and fevers, but especially kids, because they’re just so little) was from the same clinic. They told me that it doesn’t matter, so much, what the fever is — it’s how they’re acting that you should be concerned with.

THIS IS NOT HEALTH ADVICE FROM WM. I am no medical professional. Disclaimer: Sorry, I really am just guessing my way through life, asthma, our checking account…

So. If you have a child who has a 103 degree temp, but they’re keeping down food and liquids, they’re racing around the house, eh, you’re probably fine. (Call the doc anyway. They usually have some good tips on keeping hydrated. Because the fevers do sap you that way, as you probably already guessed.) However, if you have a kid whose fever is low — 100, 101 — you have a problem if they’re limp, listless, and/or have that grayish look (with us, it’s blue around mouth and under eyes, from lack of oxygen because of frickin’ asthma).

(Blue. Yes. It’s just so la-la-la over here, when cold n flu season sets in. And yes, we do get the high fevers, unfortunately, as you long-time readers might remember.) The asthma? The pneumonia? We’ve been dealing with that since she was one. The high fevers, with our boy? His entire life.

This is how I, myself, mommy of the year, diagnosed my then-3-year-old with double pneumonia: She had been kind of run down, was running a low-grade fever, was running slowly around the house. Sort of a jog. Not tearing around, like usual.

“I’m going to take a little rest.”

She snuggled down on the couch. Didn’t sleep, just rested, like she said she was going to, for about 15 minutes. Up and jogging again. I just knew. Took her to the doctor, who listened to her lungs. The one sounded a little “rattly”; the other was fine. I just gave her a look. And then insisted on a chest x-ray. Me, the girl who is anti-x-ray.

Both lungs, pneumonia.

The doctor, pointing out the patches, “See, that’s odd. It seems to be worse in the one lung and I didn’t even hear anything on that side.”

I wish my daughter hadn’t inherited the faulty-lung gene from my side of the family.

love you, wacky girl. get well soon.

mama

me, on the phone with Hockey God a little bit ago: “Do you remember that time I was so sick on the plane flying into Belgium? And I couldn’t stop throwing up and wouldn’t leave the bathroom? And they almost couldn’t land the plane cuz I wouldn’t come out of the bathroom? That’s how sick I am, right now. Only without the throwing up.”

Hockey God, in perky Belgian accent: “Perhaps you are pregnant?” (Some of you may recall that that’s how we found out we were expecting our first baby — a perky, blonde Belgian stewardess told us. Also, the skinny-redheaded guy in that story? He’s now our brother-in-law. Ain’t love grand?)

And no, I’m not pregnant. I’m menopausal. Which is the same thing, just about, with the morning sickness, the mood swings, the weight losses and gains. Only it doesn’t end with sixty-five hours of labor and an unplanned (and 2 and a half years later, planned) c-section. Oh, no. It ends with sweet freedom from cramps and random pregnancies. Yes.

So, feeling a bit queasy and hormonal, I read these three great books, yesterday and today, but now I’m too sick to write real reviews. Suffice it to say — all three are fantastic. (When the hell do I get through three books in two days? That proves how excellent they are.) So check ’em out, you’ll like ’em. “Love Is a Mix Tape” is one of the most beautiful love stories I’ve ever read, written by rock critic Rob Sheffield for his late wife, Renee. He went through her mix tapes, his mix tapes, their mix tapes, and, with the help of their favorite music, wrote a love letter.

On watching an En Vogue video with his wife (where the band shimmies wearing foxy red dresses and his wife informs him, “They’re not wearing underwear”):

“There’s also a scene in the video where one of the guys in the audience slips his wedding ring off his finger and hides it in his pocket. Renee hated that scene, but I loved it because it reminded me that it was time to do the dishes. Whenever I did dishes, I had to slip off my wedding ring and put it on the microwave so it wouldn’t go down the drain. So, I think this is the perfect pop song — it reminds me of not wearing underwear, and it also reminds me of the dishes. What more could you want?”

It made me stay up til 1 a.m., this book, and then I had to have big nooky with my husband. I, too, ask: What more could you want from a book? (I think it was also cuz Sheffield quoted Bratmobile, which his wife liked to listen to while she wrote: “If you be my bride, we can kiss and ride / We can have real fun, we can fuck and run.”)

And for a very different kind of love letter… “Live Through This” is mother Debra Gwartney’s heartbreak memoir about her runaway daughters. It is a harrowing book, and it’s not truly heartbreak, because everyone is okay now. Even though I knew everything would end okay, it still flipped me out. Because, you know. I have a girl. And a boy. Let’s not be judging each other as parents, okay? Because you never know the whole story unless someone wants to share it with you. Thanks and love to Ms. Gwartney and her daughters for their fearlessness and compassion in sharing their story.

“The Passion of the Hausfrau” is (get this) a graphic novel by a mom, for women (and men will like it, too, I guarantee it. Also my 9-year-old just picked it up and looked through it, intrigued. A first, that she’s interested in one of my “mom” books). And by “graphic novel” I don’t mean “Wifey” or “Princess Daisy.” What motivated her? A jerk-o football player (biiiiiiig NFL star, BFD) from her hometown who “wrote” his memoir with the help of a ghostwriter and a life coach. Her mom gave her a copy of the “memoir” for her 39th birthday. What the heck is that supposed to mean? Well, two can play at that game, and Ms. Nicole Chaison doesn’t need the extra help, thank you. She wrote and illustrated it all by herself and it is spectacular.

Reading this week:

Hello, my chickens,

Would you like to know what I’m reading? First up, we have two funny moms — Sara Ellington and Stephanie Triplett — who put their smart little heads together and just published their second book, “The Must-Have Mom Manual: Two Mothers, Two Perspectives, One Book That Tells You Everything You Need to Know” (Ballantine, 2009, $17, 525 pages.) (more…)

Last week my grandma informed me that she was going to stop eating. And taking her medicine. And, eventually, living.

Then along came a platter of bacon. And the Cold War. (more…)

and throwing up… and obsessing about when will this fever break?… “King of the Road” is really NOT the song you want stuck in your head.

Just sayin’.

We seem to be on the mend here, but my in-laws won’t come near us. Can’t blame them there. We may need to meet in a neutral territory, like Switzerland or somewhere, where they won’t have to deal with the many contaminated surfaces of our house.

Little Miss Honey Butt stopped by yesterday with Baby in a Wagon and wouldn’t even come in. “We had it last week, no thank you!” she called out from the sidewalk. It does seem to just be a 24 hour thing, but that 24 hours is total hell.

Happy Monday, y’all.

wm

Cuz Twitter is okay, Facebook is okay, but Thee Blogs are the place you want to be when you have the flu, can’t sleep, and it’s 3:15 a.m.

Lucky in-laws. Lucky, lucky people, flying 2,000 miles to visit Chez Grippe. I’ll give them your sympathy, Internet, when I yell downstairs at them in a few hours I HAVE THE FLU I’M STAYING IN BED ALL DAY. TAKE THE KIDS, WHO’S NOT THROWING UP, WOULD YOU?

love,

wm

Here, let me entertain you in my own lame-ass way…

The dishwasher, she is working. Sears Service Guy came by. Unhooked it all, hooked it back up and voila! Washing, washing, washing the dishes. “It’s like when you take your car to the mechanic, they drive it a hundred miles and say, ‘It ran fine for me.'” True, that.

Wacky Girl has been home sick most of the week with cold, asthma, and need to write new novel. It’s a mystery-thriller-kinda “Twilight” type book. Only without the vampires — instead they’re… I can’t tell you. It’s her novel and if she sees me writing this she’ll be most unhappy. She’s already cranky and thrashy from the flu.

Wacky Boy threw up all night last night and it was very sad and also I now have 14 or 20 loads of laundry to do. And the in-laws arrive for spring break day after tomorrow and hopefully my husband will have spoken with them before they read this blog post to tell them, Looking forward to seeing you! We have The Grippe, you don’t mind, do you? So, dear in-laws, if this is the first you’ve heard of it, hey! We’re sick. What else is new.

I want them to visit and am a little agitated that we’re down and out. We have not seen them in an extremely long time — am willing the virus(es) to go away.

And I can’t see my grandma for a few days, since we’re all buggy.

I’m knitting five new scarves to keep busy, and cleaning the house. Also, you know. Laundry.

Hockey God fixed coffee for us and stuck around while I ran to the store for Recharge, popsicles and Saltines, then left for work.

The End