I am having one of those weeks. It started as a really awful Monday at work, and has sort of bubbled over into the following several days. I thought I was over it, but today I got a phone call from one of the assistant managers from work asking me about if I would be willing to attend a meeting with the Attendings and Managers on our floor next Monday, and in an unrelated twist she asked how I was doing after last Monday. I started to say I was fine, and noticed myself begin to cry again, and realized that I was indeed, not over it. I am not fine.
Nursing is not easy. And last Monday was one of the worst shifts of my career. It was hard, emotional, and busy. I was torn into 5 uneven pieces and could not figure out how to make myself whole again. At one point, as I was preparing for a simple procedure, I stepped out of my patient's room to grab something out of our supply drawer just outside the room. I stood there for a second with my mind blank. I literally had taken 5 steps, and in those 5 steps had forgotten why I had moved in the first place. I think I stood there for a full minute before I remembered what it was I needed. A simple piece of gauze. The patient noticed and laughed a little, saying I was too young to be as forgetful as he was. But I told him, "when you have 5 peoples' lives in your head, you begin to get a bit forgetful." He said that it would be worse if I had kids, so I changed my number to 6. I didn't mention to him that it was about my lunch hour and I hadn't a notion of being able to take a lunch in the near future. I was stressed out. His family members were getting demanding. I had mentioned to them that I would do the procedure at some point during the shift, and when I didn't get in there right away to do it, they went to a doctor to demand it happen. The doctor then relayed the message to me, and I told her I was going to do it, I just needed a second to breathe.
I hope that the stress of being sick or having a loved one in the hospital doesn't cloud my vision so I don't treat the staff poorly, even when I am hurting or scared.
This job is personal. Sometimes un-comfortably so. Last Monday I was so busy, so so busy. I wasn't able to be there for a patient who needed me. She was stewing in her room, creating anxiety and stress for herself, that was unnecessary. Her situation is unfair. She didn't deserve to be stressed out by me. Her friend came up to me at the front desk, to let me know that the patient was threatening to leave. I lost it right then. I felt that I had let her down. When I envisioned how my day would go, this was not a part of it. I was overwhelmed, drowning in my tasks, and unfortunately that meant she went a bit neglected. In some cases, the squeaky wheel gets the grease. I didn't have time to check in for no reason. The doctors had been in and told her some conflicting information. All of these things broke what little trust I had earned. The assistant nurse manager went in to the patient's room, and listened to her complaints. Afterwards she asked that I go back in to speak with the patient and clear up some information, and also to allow the patient to tell me why she was upset. I walked in the room and burst into tears. It was difficult. It was uncomfortable. It was hard.
And even through all of that she still wanted me to be the one to hang her chemotherapy later that day. I told her, that I was just too emotional to do it. I didn't feel comfortable, I was too shaky and overwhelmed to concentrate on hanging a life altering drug.
And after all of that I sat down to eat at 4:30pm. The latest lunch I've ever had at work. And at the end of the day, I had an hours worth of charting and catch up to do before I could come home. To an empty house.
The next day I had a headache and decided to call in sick to get some extra sleep. I wish I could let go of my emotions. But, like I said before, this job is personal.
Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts
Friday, November 16, 2012
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
The pressure of my profession
There have been a lot of things rolling around in my brain lately. I want to discuss one of those things.
In April, a nurse committed suicide because of a medication error she had made the previous September. The medication error may have played a role in the death of the infant 5 days later. From what I have read, experts cannot say either way if the medication error caused the baby's death or not, as the baby was in a fragile state prior to the error.
What hurts the most are people's reactions to the tragedy. A few people commented on how there was no justice served for the family of the child since the nurse committed suicide. The one comment in particular that shook me was:
"This story is a real shame - that the nurse would take her own life, rather than face justice, only to leave the hospital staff to clean up her mess.
As a parent, especially of an infant or toddler, I would be only satisfied with questions of why. Why my child did you (hospital employee) chose to carry out ill advised medical care? Now that the nurse decided to end her own life, as a parent (hypothetically speaking), I am left without what I'd believe to be true justice. "
You can see one of the articles, and comments/responses here.
It only takes a few harsh/rude/inappropriate comments, in an ocean of supportive/friendly/agreeable comments to rock the boat. But I was not the only one shaken by this person's opinion. It makes me feel that the work I do isn't appreciated. The nurse was not reckless, she had no history of being a "crappy" nurse. She had been working for 24 years and had never made a mistake like this before. But there are people out there that are only satisfied with a public stoning. If I were to make a mistake, there would be people out there making comments similar to this. It is difficult to get "true justice" in a situation such as this. There is no winner, only losers. It terrifies me to my very core that I might find myself here: making an error that causes someone else harm. And to have no one there to pick me up after I fall.
I like to think that my family would support me, and carry me through that dark place of despair, that I would be strong enough to bounce back from such a horrible fall, but I don't know for sure. Depression, regret and guilt are difficult things to fight through, especially when the negative, harsh, unsupportive comments are louder and clearer than the supportive ones. I have to believe that I would persevere. I have to believe that I would be forgiven if I made such an error. Because the opposite is too depressing to think about.
In April, a nurse committed suicide because of a medication error she had made the previous September. The medication error may have played a role in the death of the infant 5 days later. From what I have read, experts cannot say either way if the medication error caused the baby's death or not, as the baby was in a fragile state prior to the error.
What hurts the most are people's reactions to the tragedy. A few people commented on how there was no justice served for the family of the child since the nurse committed suicide. The one comment in particular that shook me was:
"This story is a real shame - that the nurse would take her own life, rather than face justice, only to leave the hospital staff to clean up her mess.
As a parent, especially of an infant or toddler, I would be only satisfied with questions of why. Why my child did you (hospital employee) chose to carry out ill advised medical care? Now that the nurse decided to end her own life, as a parent (hypothetically speaking), I am left without what I'd believe to be true justice. "
You can see one of the articles, and comments/responses here.
It only takes a few harsh/rude/inappropriate comments, in an ocean of supportive/friendly/agreeable comments to rock the boat. But I was not the only one shaken by this person's opinion. It makes me feel that the work I do isn't appreciated. The nurse was not reckless, she had no history of being a "crappy" nurse. She had been working for 24 years and had never made a mistake like this before. But there are people out there that are only satisfied with a public stoning. If I were to make a mistake, there would be people out there making comments similar to this. It is difficult to get "true justice" in a situation such as this. There is no winner, only losers. It terrifies me to my very core that I might find myself here: making an error that causes someone else harm. And to have no one there to pick me up after I fall.
I like to think that my family would support me, and carry me through that dark place of despair, that I would be strong enough to bounce back from such a horrible fall, but I don't know for sure. Depression, regret and guilt are difficult things to fight through, especially when the negative, harsh, unsupportive comments are louder and clearer than the supportive ones. I have to believe that I would persevere. I have to believe that I would be forgiven if I made such an error. Because the opposite is too depressing to think about.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Sleep is good
It has been two weeks now since I last posted. Where has the time gone? Not too much has happened, as we do a lot of nothing around here. But as always, I've had some bad days and good days.
I've found that Riley does much better when he visits with family and friends. He must get bored of Jamaal and I. We might not be giving him as much attention as he desires, I suppose. Though I feel that I'm constantly talking with/holding/bouncing/flirting with little Mr. Riley. Perhaps he thinks that I have to love him, since I'm his mother, and wants to get attention from somewhere else too. Whatever the reason, on days that we get out of the house, he tends to fuss less.
The other day, when Riley was crying for some unknown reason, I began crying too. Why won't my baby just be happy? Why does he cry so much? I know that babies cry, but some days he is inconsolable. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to his crying. Which just makes me feel helpless, and makes me wonder what I am doing wrong. During one of the sleepless nights, I desperately searched the Internet for some magic fix to help him get to sleep. Of course I found none, but I did read something along the lines of: if what you are doing is making you feel desperate, or causing lots of stress, you need to make a change to find something that does work for you. There isn't one right way to skin a cat, as they say. So, I find myself picking and choosing bits and pieces from different parenting styles.
About a week ago, during our moments of desperation, we put him in the swing and he cried it out until he fell asleep. Each night, it didn't take nearly as long for him to fall asleep, but we realized we needed to be able to get him to sleep without motion, since he will eventually not be able to go into the swing anymore. So I tried just laying him down in his own bed. We had a couple (two) nights in a row where he slept decently. By that I mean he slept in his own bed for 2.5-3 hour sessions. I felt like I got a lot more sleep, because I was able to sleep in positions that are comfortable to me. When he is next to me, I find myself in awkward positions, and never fully relax while I sleep. Amazingly enough, each time I layed him down, (after he nursed to sleep) he stayed asleep. I thought it was a miracle. I bragged about it to my parents, and the next night after I set him down, he woke up after a few minutes. I checked for a burp, checked his pants, nothing.
So, we've begun along the cry-it-out pathway, which has turned into a huge power struggle between two adults and their little offspring. Let me tell you, he is a stubborn one. (Unfortunately I cannot deny that he got this from me.) I haven't really read any books on the cry-it-out method, so we are kind of winging it. He is still right next to our bed, so we don't sleep at all while he cries. The night before last, after he cried for 45 minutes with no signs of stopping (we talked to him and comforted him a bit off and on), I said screw it, and brought him into bed with us. He then nursed and slept next to me for 5.5 hours.
Last night, same story. After crying and not acting like he would ever stop, I picked him up and put him in the swing, (which we still have in our room) and turned the music on its loudest setting. He stopped crying immediately. He didn't go to sleep immediately, but he was quiet and eventually fell asleep. I don't know when he fell asleep, because I woke up 6 hours later. I still get disoriented after long periods of sleep. I wake in sort of a panic. This morning was no different, I sat up, looked in his crib to find it empty, then remembered I had put him in the swing.
We are, as I said before, winging it right now. I'm not sure what I will do tonight. I end up doing what works that night. Unfortunately, we are quickly approaching the day when I return to work, so I have to find something that works for us. As it is he doesn't like to go to bed until 2300 or later, and I will have to get up around 0430 to feed him one last time and get ready for work. 4-5 hours will not cut it for me, especially when he often wakes every 2-3 hours to feed. I'm extremely nervous to go back.
I'm considering cutting back my hours even more, because I'm not sure I will like being away from him too much. The first schedule I'll go back to is a partial schedule, and if after a week I realize it is too much time away, I will cut down my hours. We have been making it on decreased pay, but I'll have to make sure that we could continue to make it on decreased pay. Oh how I wish I didn't have to work...
The little booger has woken up, so I have to go.
I've found that Riley does much better when he visits with family and friends. He must get bored of Jamaal and I. We might not be giving him as much attention as he desires, I suppose. Though I feel that I'm constantly talking with/holding/bouncing/flirting with little Mr. Riley. Perhaps he thinks that I have to love him, since I'm his mother, and wants to get attention from somewhere else too. Whatever the reason, on days that we get out of the house, he tends to fuss less.
The other day, when Riley was crying for some unknown reason, I began crying too. Why won't my baby just be happy? Why does he cry so much? I know that babies cry, but some days he is inconsolable. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to his crying. Which just makes me feel helpless, and makes me wonder what I am doing wrong. During one of the sleepless nights, I desperately searched the Internet for some magic fix to help him get to sleep. Of course I found none, but I did read something along the lines of: if what you are doing is making you feel desperate, or causing lots of stress, you need to make a change to find something that does work for you. There isn't one right way to skin a cat, as they say. So, I find myself picking and choosing bits and pieces from different parenting styles.
About a week ago, during our moments of desperation, we put him in the swing and he cried it out until he fell asleep. Each night, it didn't take nearly as long for him to fall asleep, but we realized we needed to be able to get him to sleep without motion, since he will eventually not be able to go into the swing anymore. So I tried just laying him down in his own bed. We had a couple (two) nights in a row where he slept decently. By that I mean he slept in his own bed for 2.5-3 hour sessions. I felt like I got a lot more sleep, because I was able to sleep in positions that are comfortable to me. When he is next to me, I find myself in awkward positions, and never fully relax while I sleep. Amazingly enough, each time I layed him down, (after he nursed to sleep) he stayed asleep. I thought it was a miracle. I bragged about it to my parents, and the next night after I set him down, he woke up after a few minutes. I checked for a burp, checked his pants, nothing.
So, we've begun along the cry-it-out pathway, which has turned into a huge power struggle between two adults and their little offspring. Let me tell you, he is a stubborn one. (Unfortunately I cannot deny that he got this from me.) I haven't really read any books on the cry-it-out method, so we are kind of winging it. He is still right next to our bed, so we don't sleep at all while he cries. The night before last, after he cried for 45 minutes with no signs of stopping (we talked to him and comforted him a bit off and on), I said screw it, and brought him into bed with us. He then nursed and slept next to me for 5.5 hours.
Last night, same story. After crying and not acting like he would ever stop, I picked him up and put him in the swing, (which we still have in our room) and turned the music on its loudest setting. He stopped crying immediately. He didn't go to sleep immediately, but he was quiet and eventually fell asleep. I don't know when he fell asleep, because I woke up 6 hours later. I still get disoriented after long periods of sleep. I wake in sort of a panic. This morning was no different, I sat up, looked in his crib to find it empty, then remembered I had put him in the swing.
We are, as I said before, winging it right now. I'm not sure what I will do tonight. I end up doing what works that night. Unfortunately, we are quickly approaching the day when I return to work, so I have to find something that works for us. As it is he doesn't like to go to bed until 2300 or later, and I will have to get up around 0430 to feed him one last time and get ready for work. 4-5 hours will not cut it for me, especially when he often wakes every 2-3 hours to feed. I'm extremely nervous to go back.
I'm considering cutting back my hours even more, because I'm not sure I will like being away from him too much. The first schedule I'll go back to is a partial schedule, and if after a week I realize it is too much time away, I will cut down my hours. We have been making it on decreased pay, but I'll have to make sure that we could continue to make it on decreased pay. Oh how I wish I didn't have to work...
The little booger has woken up, so I have to go.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Some hard stuff
It has been quite some time since I last posted. I have a hard time posting when I'm upset about things.
Since the last time I posted, I am completely sickness free, and have been for quite some time. Every day after I posted was better than the one before, until I was no longer sniffly. Poor Jamaal got a taste of it too, though his did not last nearly as long as mine did.
I had a wonderful Baby shower with my friends and my side of the family. (Since Jamaal has soooo many Aunts and girl cousins, we will have a separate party for them.) Only my MIL and Jamaal's Grandma came to this party, and my mom will go to the next one.
We had a total of 8 trick or treaters come to our house this year...plus my 3 nephews. Jamaal bought several bags of candy, and I was giving out very large handfuls, and we still have way too much leftover. It calls to me.
Most of the candy he bought isn't really stuff I like anyway so I've been abstaining pretty well. But there are times when I falter.
If you remember last time I posted that I was waiting the results of my 1-hour glucose test, I found out the next day that I had failed it and needed to do the 3-hour test. The 3-hour test happened on that Saturday, where I was poked a total of 4 times for blood draws, and felt like I was going to puke for most of the 3-hours I spent at the lab.
Then on Monday, I found out I had failed that test too, and had gestational diabetes. I have to test my blood sugar 4 times a day and count carbohydrates in my diet. For the most part my sugars have been very well managed just with controlling my diet. I saw a mid-wife (a different one than the one I meet with normally) a week after getting my glucometer (the device used to check my blood sugar) and she basically told me I was doing too good of a job controlling my sugars. And I broke down crying. She was shocked because she was telling me that I was doing good, but needed to just back down a little bit. I still cry about it if I let myself think about it too much. She told me to eat more. Though now I am having a harder time because my sugars are sometimes higher than the limits she gave me.
I'm constantly frustrated and paranoid about my food now. It is so stressful to think about what will happen an hour after I eat. I find myself crossing my fingers hoping for a good blood sugar. I no longer enjoy eating. It is a task I must perform, and it wears me out. In part, I know that this is good for us. I didn't have the best eating habits prior to this. If I was hungry before I would eat whatever I wanted. I made good choices and bad ones. French fries and ice cream always sound good to me, especially after becoming pregnant.
I always bought fruits and vegetables, but often would throw them out because I would find something tastier to eat. And, besides yogurt on occasion, dairy wasn't really a staple in my diet. Except for cheese of course.
The problem is with my placenta. It creates hormones that make my body have a hard time absorbing sugar. Once the placenta is gone, I won't be diabetic anymore. However, I am at risk of becoming type 2 diabetic later on in life, and any later pregnancies I will most likely have gestational diabetes again. I already knew I was at risk of becoming a type 2 diabetic, as I have it in my family history. But after watching my sugars and seeing how certain foods affect me, I'm really not looking forward to growing older. I like rice, bread, pasta and potatoes, but my sugars suck afterwards.
I started writing this on the 2nd, and now it is the 9th. Since then, I met with my midwife and reviewed my food log and sugar record. I was getting very frustrated, because I was eating more, but my sugars were awful. She pointed out that I needed more protein in my diet, I was so focused on the carbohydrates that I was forgetting about protein. I feel a little bit better now, but I'm not looking forward to reviewing my food log and sugar record with my midwife again. It causes me such stress. I feel like I'll get a bad grade or a slap on the wrist. And I'm even more afraid that I'll burst out in tears again.
Because of all of this, I have to go in to see my midwife weekly from now on. We will have to have Fetal NSTs weekly. Go here for a short summary of what the test measures. This makes me even more stressed out. It is a pretty long drive to Tacoma, and they tell me that this test could take as long as an hour. Then I meet with her after to discuss the results. This Friday is my first one, and I'll have to go to the appointment alone. I'm not looking forward to it. Mostly because I have to work the night before and that night, so I'll be a little sleep deprived for the driving. But also because I'm an emotional wreck and it is easier for me to keep composed if I have someone with me.
Today I got a phone call from "Unknown." I've received enough phone calls from the clinic to know that they always show up as "unknown." Lately, the phone calls have all been upsetting news, so I found myself on the defensive from the start. It was my midwife's nurse. She said I had to have another ultrasound. I immediately retorted "why? I just had one." I had interrupted her though, so she was just calling to add it to one of my appointments later on in the month, it would be before my other appointment, so that was why she was calling. I was kind of snippity with her, but after getting bad or upsetting phone calls, I can't help but think the worst.
Besides having some mild leg swelling after working, some lower back pain (especially after working), some leg cramps that wake me up, and some heartburn attacks everything else is going okay. Watching my belly jolt from side to side, and feeling jabs here and there make me smile.
But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't counting down the days until the end of this pregnancy.
Since the last time I posted, I am completely sickness free, and have been for quite some time. Every day after I posted was better than the one before, until I was no longer sniffly. Poor Jamaal got a taste of it too, though his did not last nearly as long as mine did.
I had a wonderful Baby shower with my friends and my side of the family. (Since Jamaal has soooo many Aunts and girl cousins, we will have a separate party for them.) Only my MIL and Jamaal's Grandma came to this party, and my mom will go to the next one.
We had a total of 8 trick or treaters come to our house this year...plus my 3 nephews. Jamaal bought several bags of candy, and I was giving out very large handfuls, and we still have way too much leftover. It calls to me.
Most of the candy he bought isn't really stuff I like anyway so I've been abstaining pretty well. But there are times when I falter.
If you remember last time I posted that I was waiting the results of my 1-hour glucose test, I found out the next day that I had failed it and needed to do the 3-hour test. The 3-hour test happened on that Saturday, where I was poked a total of 4 times for blood draws, and felt like I was going to puke for most of the 3-hours I spent at the lab.
Then on Monday, I found out I had failed that test too, and had gestational diabetes. I have to test my blood sugar 4 times a day and count carbohydrates in my diet. For the most part my sugars have been very well managed just with controlling my diet. I saw a mid-wife (a different one than the one I meet with normally) a week after getting my glucometer (the device used to check my blood sugar) and she basically told me I was doing too good of a job controlling my sugars. And I broke down crying. She was shocked because she was telling me that I was doing good, but needed to just back down a little bit. I still cry about it if I let myself think about it too much. She told me to eat more. Though now I am having a harder time because my sugars are sometimes higher than the limits she gave me.
I'm constantly frustrated and paranoid about my food now. It is so stressful to think about what will happen an hour after I eat. I find myself crossing my fingers hoping for a good blood sugar. I no longer enjoy eating. It is a task I must perform, and it wears me out. In part, I know that this is good for us. I didn't have the best eating habits prior to this. If I was hungry before I would eat whatever I wanted. I made good choices and bad ones. French fries and ice cream always sound good to me, especially after becoming pregnant.
I always bought fruits and vegetables, but often would throw them out because I would find something tastier to eat. And, besides yogurt on occasion, dairy wasn't really a staple in my diet. Except for cheese of course.
The problem is with my placenta. It creates hormones that make my body have a hard time absorbing sugar. Once the placenta is gone, I won't be diabetic anymore. However, I am at risk of becoming type 2 diabetic later on in life, and any later pregnancies I will most likely have gestational diabetes again. I already knew I was at risk of becoming a type 2 diabetic, as I have it in my family history. But after watching my sugars and seeing how certain foods affect me, I'm really not looking forward to growing older. I like rice, bread, pasta and potatoes, but my sugars suck afterwards.
I started writing this on the 2nd, and now it is the 9th. Since then, I met with my midwife and reviewed my food log and sugar record. I was getting very frustrated, because I was eating more, but my sugars were awful. She pointed out that I needed more protein in my diet, I was so focused on the carbohydrates that I was forgetting about protein. I feel a little bit better now, but I'm not looking forward to reviewing my food log and sugar record with my midwife again. It causes me such stress. I feel like I'll get a bad grade or a slap on the wrist. And I'm even more afraid that I'll burst out in tears again.
Because of all of this, I have to go in to see my midwife weekly from now on. We will have to have Fetal NSTs weekly. Go here for a short summary of what the test measures. This makes me even more stressed out. It is a pretty long drive to Tacoma, and they tell me that this test could take as long as an hour. Then I meet with her after to discuss the results. This Friday is my first one, and I'll have to go to the appointment alone. I'm not looking forward to it. Mostly because I have to work the night before and that night, so I'll be a little sleep deprived for the driving. But also because I'm an emotional wreck and it is easier for me to keep composed if I have someone with me.
Today I got a phone call from "Unknown." I've received enough phone calls from the clinic to know that they always show up as "unknown." Lately, the phone calls have all been upsetting news, so I found myself on the defensive from the start. It was my midwife's nurse. She said I had to have another ultrasound. I immediately retorted "why? I just had one." I had interrupted her though, so she was just calling to add it to one of my appointments later on in the month, it would be before my other appointment, so that was why she was calling. I was kind of snippity with her, but after getting bad or upsetting phone calls, I can't help but think the worst.
Besides having some mild leg swelling after working, some lower back pain (especially after working), some leg cramps that wake me up, and some heartburn attacks everything else is going okay. Watching my belly jolt from side to side, and feeling jabs here and there make me smile.
But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't counting down the days until the end of this pregnancy.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
A Rambling Mess
This belly shot was taken at 23 weeks and 3 days.
This was taken at 27 weeks.
This was also taken at 27 weeks.
Last Thursday I went to water aerobics, and near the end of the workout I started having chest pain. It was right at my sternum and went under my rib cage, mostly to the left. It hurt more if I pressed just under my rib cage medially. I figured it was related to heartburn. But it wasn't going away. I started to worry, so I called out sick for the night. It hurt really bad if I moved my arms across my chest. So I figured I should take it easy. Around 0500, I woke up to hives on my forearms that were really itchy, so I got up to take a half of a benedryl. When I woke up in the morning my chest still hurt so I decided to call the doctor. But by the time I went to my appointment, the pain was gone, and most of my hives were gone. I was sure that the hives were caused by my heartburn medicine. Basically my doctor gave me a list of foods to avoid, and a warning that it was just going to get worse. I was coming down with a cough by this point, which I figured was just because of the heartburn. My doctor agreed with me.
I went to work that night. I wore a mask for most of the night, especially when in patient's rooms, because my voice sounded hoarse and that makes people uncomfortable. The longer I was at work, the more I felt sick, as opposed to someone suffering from severe heartburn. My sneezes had more substance to them. And at one point I coughed up a loogie. I went to bed right when I got home, and I think my mom called to talk to me. I sounded like crap. I knew then that I was sick, not having heartburn complications. Stupid flu. Our thermometer is still packed somewhere, and so when I talked with my mom (who was planning on coming over to drop off something for me to try) I asked her to also bring her thermometer for me to use. My temperature got as high as 100.5, so not too bad. I've been taking sudafed, benedryl, and Tylenol here and there. I'm beginning to feel better now. I'm undecided as to whether I'm ready to go back to work tonight or not. Fortunately I only have three 8-hour shifts this week. I'll see how I'm feeling later on tonight. I am technically still "contagious" but with a mask on an good hand washing I should be okay for work. I am just still very tired and feel a bit cloudy in the head. I have never coughed up so much gunk in my life. (Which is actually good, because I'd rather have it out of my lungs. But usually I don't start coughing stuff up until I start to feel a little bit better.)
The little mister has been beating me up with just as much oomph as before I got sick. Sometimes I even exclaim "Oh my!" after an extra strong kick. It is going to be strange to have my belly back to myself. I'm going to feel very empty I think.
Jamaal scared me on Saturday night. He went out with his friends to a bar not too far from our house. He had planned on getting a ride home with his friend's sister (who works as a bartender there, and would therefore be the sober one). But I get a message from him, "can you come get me." Just after midnight. I ask him where he is, and when he wants me to come: at the bar, now.
I jump in the car in my pajamas. They aren't even cute pajamas. It is a pink dress type that goes to my knees. But remember I'm sick, and don't care. I get there in a few minutes, and text him that I've arrived. No response. So, I text him again. Nothing. I try his friend: "I'm here."
He responds "Oh good, Jamaal needs a ride." Yes. I know that, that's why I am here. I should have known at this point that he was going to be little help to me. Can you please send my husband out here. "I don't know where he is." At this point I'm a little worried. It has been 30 minutes of me waiting outside in the car. I decide to face the public. I don't know these people anyway. I throw my coat on over my beautiful pajamas and go inside. They tell me no one is allowed in anymore.
ing car. In the story he tells, he hears some people he has to walk by laugh at him, and he wants to punch them. With how slow he was responding to me, I can't believe he even considered it.
I have been looking everywhere for you. Why didn't you answer your phone? It died. (I figured it probably had.) Where were you? In the bathroom. I had a security guard go in there and look for you.
And then I lose it. I cry it out for a minute, collect myself so I can get us home, and pull out of the parking lot. He apologizes a couple times, but once I start driving he hangs his head down, in the most uncomfortable looking position ever, and stays like that for most of the drive.
When we get home, we find that a dog has puked on the kitchen floor. Jamaal, obviously feeling guilty, pushes me away so that he can clean it up. I let him, because it is difficult these days for me to reach the floor comfortably. I tell him he's not allowed to go out without his phone fully charged, and cry a little more in his arms. He makes his way back to the bathroom, and I give him a couple blankets and a pillow and he spends several hours asleep on the bathroom floor. I already intended on sleeping in the living room, since I didn't want to get him sick, and because I was having a hard time sleeping for longer than 2 hours.
The two of us spent Sunday laying around watching TV and napping. We didn't wake up until almost 1300 (1pm).
Monday, July 5, 2010
Pregnancy Emotions
This little pregnant lady is beginning to feel left out a bit.
My MIL bought a house, and in the backyard was a trampoline that the previous owner did not want. Jamaal instantly told his mom he would take it. She fought a little bit; she was worried about safety, and wanted us to get a net first. Do you know how much trampoline nets cost? More than we want to pay. I never have jumped on a trampoline with a net on it. Never. Then she gets concerned about the baby. At which point, I roll my eyes and let her know that the trampoline will not be around when the baby is big enough to be getting on it. There are some very small holes on the trampoline, and it looks pretty old.
I would like to get a few jumps in, but of course, I can't.
I can get over it, I'm not really that upset about it. Though this is just one of the first things that made me realize that I'm beginning to feel left out.
Later this month we are going on an annual camping trip. Jamaal, his two friends (I also consider them my friends) and I have been going every year since our second year together.
But this year will be different. It is not just the 4 of us; one of the boys invited several other people.
Normally I would not be upset. Normally, I would say the more the merrier. But this year is different. I will be surrounded by a bunch of drunk people. And now, there will be a lot of drunk people that I barely know.
I was already nervous for the 4 of us...when I found out about the new additions I got really upset. I'll bring a lot of activities for me to do, and some alcohol-like beverages (diet ginger-ale with a sprinkling of cranberry lemonade crystal light).
And, if it is as bad as I think it might be, I'll leave to go to my Aunt's apartment in Olympia. Though I'm sure I'm just overreacting.
I know that I have something very special that is mine. I know that my connection with my child will be something no one else will have. I know I am so fortunate to be able to carry a child. To get pregnant so easily. I know I'm being selfish, bratty, and a little pathetic.
I just want it all.
My MIL bought a house, and in the backyard was a trampoline that the previous owner did not want. Jamaal instantly told his mom he would take it. She fought a little bit; she was worried about safety, and wanted us to get a net first. Do you know how much trampoline nets cost? More than we want to pay. I never have jumped on a trampoline with a net on it. Never. Then she gets concerned about the baby. At which point, I roll my eyes and let her know that the trampoline will not be around when the baby is big enough to be getting on it. There are some very small holes on the trampoline, and it looks pretty old.
I would like to get a few jumps in, but of course, I can't.
I can get over it, I'm not really that upset about it. Though this is just one of the first things that made me realize that I'm beginning to feel left out.
Later this month we are going on an annual camping trip. Jamaal, his two friends (I also consider them my friends) and I have been going every year since our second year together.
But this year will be different. It is not just the 4 of us; one of the boys invited several other people.
Normally I would not be upset. Normally, I would say the more the merrier. But this year is different. I will be surrounded by a bunch of drunk people. And now, there will be a lot of drunk people that I barely know.
I was already nervous for the 4 of us...when I found out about the new additions I got really upset. I'll bring a lot of activities for me to do, and some alcohol-like beverages (diet ginger-ale with a sprinkling of cranberry lemonade crystal light).
And, if it is as bad as I think it might be, I'll leave to go to my Aunt's apartment in Olympia. Though I'm sure I'm just overreacting.
I know that I have something very special that is mine. I know that my connection with my child will be something no one else will have. I know I am so fortunate to be able to carry a child. To get pregnant so easily. I know I'm being selfish, bratty, and a little pathetic.
I just want it all.
Monday, February 15, 2010
An icy surprise
Day 35/36.
Aunti still has not come for a visit. The guest room is all made up, but remains empty. If both (pregnancy tests and period) are still negative by this time next week, I'll be going in to get some blood drawn. I can't handle the suspense.
Unfortunately, even if I am preggo, I'm a high risk for miscarriage since I just got off of the pill.
I've got some very slight cramping going on right now, so chances are I'll have a visitor in the next couple days.
In other news...
On Saturday, my family took Jamaal and I to Tokyo Steakhouse for dinner to celebrate our birthdays. Mine isn't until March 23, but my brother will begin coaching baseball at his school, and is super busy in March because of that. And Saturday was the first day we were all available to go out for Jamaal's.
We were all having a good time. We were actually nearly done, he was about to serve us our steak when a waitress spilt diet coke down my back. It was a shocker. It was freezing cold, but all I could think about was the fact that the shirt I was wearing was brand new, and it was hand wash only. And it wasn't really all that cheap. I think it was $24 but I really liked it, and I never really treat myself with new clothes all that often. I usually only buy from the clearance racks anymore. The rest of dinner I was freezing cold. It got on my jeans and on my underwear as well, so it was uncomfortable to walk. I kept feeling as though I wet myself. I was in shock when it happened and didn't really want to talk about it. Later my waitress came up (as the girl who did it was simply refilling our drinks to help our waitress) and apologized and said that my drinks would be free. It really was a slap to my face. My $2 diet coke (with free refills) was free. And my brand new shirt was possibly ruined? And I did not enjoy my food, or the fact that I was out to dinner with my family, as much as I would have with dry clothes. As we were getting ready to leave I started to cry. And I had a very hard time stopping. I really really didn't want to cry. I didn't fight the fact that I felt at the very least that girl should have bought me dinner. After the fact, I wished I would have told them how I felt, but I also know that she didn't do it on purpose. It was an accident...but definitely not worth a free $2 drink.
Aunti still has not come for a visit. The guest room is all made up, but remains empty. If both (pregnancy tests and period) are still negative by this time next week, I'll be going in to get some blood drawn. I can't handle the suspense.
Unfortunately, even if I am preggo, I'm a high risk for miscarriage since I just got off of the pill.
I've got some very slight cramping going on right now, so chances are I'll have a visitor in the next couple days.
In other news...
On Saturday, my family took Jamaal and I to Tokyo Steakhouse for dinner to celebrate our birthdays. Mine isn't until March 23, but my brother will begin coaching baseball at his school, and is super busy in March because of that. And Saturday was the first day we were all available to go out for Jamaal's.
We were all having a good time. We were actually nearly done, he was about to serve us our steak when a waitress spilt diet coke down my back. It was a shocker. It was freezing cold, but all I could think about was the fact that the shirt I was wearing was brand new, and it was hand wash only. And it wasn't really all that cheap. I think it was $24 but I really liked it, and I never really treat myself with new clothes all that often. I usually only buy from the clearance racks anymore. The rest of dinner I was freezing cold. It got on my jeans and on my underwear as well, so it was uncomfortable to walk. I kept feeling as though I wet myself. I was in shock when it happened and didn't really want to talk about it. Later my waitress came up (as the girl who did it was simply refilling our drinks to help our waitress) and apologized and said that my drinks would be free. It really was a slap to my face. My $2 diet coke (with free refills) was free. And my brand new shirt was possibly ruined? And I did not enjoy my food, or the fact that I was out to dinner with my family, as much as I would have with dry clothes. As we were getting ready to leave I started to cry. And I had a very hard time stopping. I really really didn't want to cry. I didn't fight the fact that I felt at the very least that girl should have bought me dinner. After the fact, I wished I would have told them how I felt, but I also know that she didn't do it on purpose. It was an accident...but definitely not worth a free $2 drink.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Sad day
Well as you all are probably aware, J and I are in the process of buying our first house. We are super excited/anxious/ready to move out of our rental. I've been pressuring the bank to see if we could close early on Sept. 25th instead of the 30th, to give us extra time to paint and get the carpet installed before moving into the new place. Well yesterday I found out that an early close would not be possible. Which was fine, obviously not ideal, but I got over it.
Today I find out that we actually can't close on the 30th either. My loan lady says they are behind by "a couple weeks."
Fortunately, our landlords have not found anyone to replace us yet, so we aren't homeless. We had planned on staying only until Oct. 4th, with prorated rent, but it looks like we'll have to pay all of October's rent at this time.
It is soooo frustrating.
What makes this worse is there is a stipulation in our contract with GMAC (the bank that owns our house), that says if we need an extension, it will cost $100/day. Now J and I think that we should not have to pay since it isn't our fault, but I don't know that the bank we are getting our loan through can help us very much. My loan lady said she would do everything she could to help if GMAC won't waive the fee. (That of course is our first hope.) My realtor contacted GMAC's realtor and asked what we could do to get the fee waived, and they stated a letter saying why there is a delay would do it. So we hope that that is the case.
This $8000 tax credit thing is the reason we are delayed. The bank had a 1000% increase in the amount of loans processing at once. People are rushing to get in a house before November 30th.
J and I wanted to have a Halloween (costumes required) Housewarming party. I hope we can still have that!
Today I find out that we actually can't close on the 30th either. My loan lady says they are behind by "a couple weeks."
Fortunately, our landlords have not found anyone to replace us yet, so we aren't homeless. We had planned on staying only until Oct. 4th, with prorated rent, but it looks like we'll have to pay all of October's rent at this time.
It is soooo frustrating.
What makes this worse is there is a stipulation in our contract with GMAC (the bank that owns our house), that says if we need an extension, it will cost $100/day. Now J and I think that we should not have to pay since it isn't our fault, but I don't know that the bank we are getting our loan through can help us very much. My loan lady said she would do everything she could to help if GMAC won't waive the fee. (That of course is our first hope.) My realtor contacted GMAC's realtor and asked what we could do to get the fee waived, and they stated a letter saying why there is a delay would do it. So we hope that that is the case.
This $8000 tax credit thing is the reason we are delayed. The bank had a 1000% increase in the amount of loans processing at once. People are rushing to get in a house before November 30th.
J and I wanted to have a Halloween (costumes required) Housewarming party. I hope we can still have that!
Friday, August 21, 2009
A woman's work
**Side Note: First of all, I must apologize, because while I'm filled with emotions and thoughts when I watch this video, my thoughts are not translating well into this blog...so please keep in mind that words cannot describe much of my emotions and feelings, and thoughts on this dance routine....**
This is why I love So you Think you can Dance so much. (And still have many more episodes to watch, so please do not ruin that for me. Do not comment on any episodes past when the top 8 perform....pretty pretty please!! :D I love DVR...)
I'm so touched by this routine. Melissa and Ade danced it beautifully, and put their souls behind their movement...when I watch it I don't see a dance, I see a story. I don't think you need a description of the story behind this routine, but just in case you don't see it....
It is simply a story of one woman who has breast cancer. But the movement translates further than that. For me, she has "cancer" not specifically any cancer, it could be breast, sarcoma, colon, lung etc. I feel like "she" could be a "he", as the emotions are very similar for either sex. The journey, and the experience is very different. For example, men can fit in with a bald head, while women tend to stand out. (Hair loss, however, is not necessarily an easy side effect to deal with for men, but in general it is not as devastating for men. Again, it is different). Of course, since the dance is to "A woman's work" the story is obviously more centered around a female's experience of cancer.
The emotions hit me like a slap in the face. Hope. Love. Support. Strength. Trust. Beauty. Grace. But also Anger. Fear. Loss. Grief. Uncertainty. I see all of these in the video.
I have watched the routine over 5 times now, and I still cry when I watch it. At work I see this too. We give chemotherapy on my floor, and I love my chemo patients. But, they do have cancer, and they do have good and bad days. Some of them don't make it through their chemo (they receive several cycles before "finishing" chemo). Some of them make it through, only to come in to the hospital to pass on. Some of them live longer than "expected." Some of them don't.
But most of them hope. Most of them live (as in be present for the moments that they have left.) Most of them survive, even if their "survival" is only a few years after diagnosis.
Unfortunately, though, sarcomas are usually found later on, and are therefore harder to recover from. This is difficult to remember when I am talking with a living, breathing, hairless patient, who aside from the tumor and the chemotherapy is otherwise healthy, happy, and full of life. My coworkers will mention things like "it's too bad" or "it's sad" but while I agree that cancer sucks, I don't necessarily feel like all is lost. Not until they are actually on their deathbed can I picture them there.
Maybe I'm naive. But I like to think of myself as hopeful. I think my coworkers think about the worst, to help to detach from the patient. To prepare themselves for the worst, because "the worst" has happened a lot on our floor. If they aren't as attached, and the patient loses their fight, the grieving process is easier. I think that is the theory at least. I don't feel like I'm hurting myself to form bonds with people who might end up of dying from cancer. Besides, it's not about me, it's about that person, who happens to have cancer. If I'm hopeful, they can sense it. At least that is what I believe. I prefer to think positively, and I think my patients appreciate that.
Monday, May 18, 2009
RIP
R.I.P reminds me of a spooky cemetery scene in a child's Halloween cartoon. For me it really lacks a certain respect for the departed. Spelt out, it means so much more.
* * *
One of the most difficult patients I've ever had on my orthopedic floor (6SE) was one I'd never guess I would find here. For the most part, our patient population on 6SE is littered with knee, hip, shoulder and spine patients; sarcoma and chemo patients fill most of the gaps. But when we have empty beds, we fill them with pretty much anything.
We happened to have an empty bed when She was admitted. And that is how She ended up on my floor.
For someone so young, She saw more pain and hardships than anyone should ever face. Unfortunately, She saw too much to recover from.
Once I got over Her emaciated appearance, which I guess I never really truly "got over," I noticed Her rough hands. On Her body, Her hands were huge, they looked like jumbo marshmallows on toothpick arms. Her hands were callused and looked so much like ones I've seen before on a few of the homeless patients that I've cared for. They gave away Her difficult past. She must have spend at least some time outside in the cold.
Drug abuse. Prostitution. Rape. HIV, which turned to AIDS. TB.
Only a few of the terrible things She endured during Her short life. The worst, I think, was the fact that Her very own mother, the person who should have cared for Her, was the person who introduced Her to this way of life. I'm disgusted to think about it.
TB patients are a lot of work, mostly because they have to be in a respiratory isolation. TB is very contagious, so when caring for a TB patient you must gown up and wear a PAPR or a special mask. This takes a lot of time, and so nursing tasks are done all at once in groups to limit the amount of times a person needs to leave and come back to the room.
For someone who is dying, this is unfortunate, because no one should have to die alone. With 3 or 4 other patients to care for, it is difficult to balance out the time spent with each patient. Tasks that normally take 5 minutes for a "normal" patient take 20 minutes for a TB isolation patient. And you better hope that you don't forget something, (or you'll have to call a coworker to bring supplies to you, which takes more time).
For this little lady, time was precious, more so than I thought.
I cared for Her one night, and we had a moment. She was clear mentally, and was talking with me, which didn't happen often. She had a terrible, productive cough, and I mentioned that it sounded like it hurt to cough. She asked me for an inhaler, "maybe that will help me." But I knew that was not the case. She was someone who valued truth and honesty, because She had experienced very little during Her short life. So, I told Her straight up: "I don't think that would help you hun." Then She said: "I'm dying." And went on to talk about "grandma" and would we call her tomorrow. She asked about "nana" and if "they" would be there and I'm not sure if She was meaning when She passed or literally there in the hospital.
Tears came to my eyes, but I was able to hold them in. She started to fall asleep again, and I told Her that I would stay with Her until She fell asleep, and She did very quickly.
* * *
I reported off that morning thinking that we had a good night. She and I had a good conversation, and connected.
When I got my assignment the next night, I didn't get Her back. I was actually a little upset that I wasn't assigned to Her. I was looking forward to talking with Her again. I wanted to make Her last few days comfortable and full of love. With some hand holding and brushing back Her hair. It was a lot of work, but I had a bond with Her that I wanted to continue. When I went to look to see who She was assigned to (to try to trade) She wasn't on the board. I was shocked. I thought for sure She had a few more days left in her.
Turns out She passed on a little after I left. And while that makes my heart lighten and smile, for She had so much pain, and needed so badly to rest, I was not ready for that to happen. I wanted to share a few more good times with her.
She will always leave a mark on me. The sometimes vulgar, frail girl, who aged way too quickly. A nurse I work with put it very well: her life was very short, but in so many ways She lived a very long, hard life. She partied too hard, too fast. And her mother was right there next to her through all of that. Funny that once Her mother found out that this hospitalization would be Her final resting place, she skipped out of town. She was there to cause her daughter's downward spiral, but not there to catch Her at the bottom. ("skipping out" and getting high are the only ways her mother would know how to cope...)
Before I cared for her, She was able to talk with the adoptive mom of Her only child. The adoptive mom said that Her little girl was healthy, smart, and HIV negative. A beauty. A wonder. A miracle. Her daughter has a chance in life that She never had. Love, support, and guidance. But most of all, a mother who will be there to catch her if she falls.
So, rest in peace my dear, you left your mark on the world.
Please note that facts have been changed to provide confidentiality.
* * *
One of the most difficult patients I've ever had on my orthopedic floor (6SE) was one I'd never guess I would find here. For the most part, our patient population on 6SE is littered with knee, hip, shoulder and spine patients; sarcoma and chemo patients fill most of the gaps. But when we have empty beds, we fill them with pretty much anything.
We happened to have an empty bed when She was admitted. And that is how She ended up on my floor.
For someone so young, She saw more pain and hardships than anyone should ever face. Unfortunately, She saw too much to recover from.
Once I got over Her emaciated appearance, which I guess I never really truly "got over," I noticed Her rough hands. On Her body, Her hands were huge, they looked like jumbo marshmallows on toothpick arms. Her hands were callused and looked so much like ones I've seen before on a few of the homeless patients that I've cared for. They gave away Her difficult past. She must have spend at least some time outside in the cold.
Drug abuse. Prostitution. Rape. HIV, which turned to AIDS. TB.
Only a few of the terrible things She endured during Her short life. The worst, I think, was the fact that Her very own mother, the person who should have cared for Her, was the person who introduced Her to this way of life. I'm disgusted to think about it.
TB patients are a lot of work, mostly because they have to be in a respiratory isolation. TB is very contagious, so when caring for a TB patient you must gown up and wear a PAPR or a special mask. This takes a lot of time, and so nursing tasks are done all at once in groups to limit the amount of times a person needs to leave and come back to the room.
For someone who is dying, this is unfortunate, because no one should have to die alone. With 3 or 4 other patients to care for, it is difficult to balance out the time spent with each patient. Tasks that normally take 5 minutes for a "normal" patient take 20 minutes for a TB isolation patient. And you better hope that you don't forget something, (or you'll have to call a coworker to bring supplies to you, which takes more time).
For this little lady, time was precious, more so than I thought.
I cared for Her one night, and we had a moment. She was clear mentally, and was talking with me, which didn't happen often. She had a terrible, productive cough, and I mentioned that it sounded like it hurt to cough. She asked me for an inhaler, "maybe that will help me." But I knew that was not the case. She was someone who valued truth and honesty, because She had experienced very little during Her short life. So, I told Her straight up: "I don't think that would help you hun." Then She said: "I'm dying." And went on to talk about "grandma" and would we call her tomorrow. She asked about "nana" and if "they" would be there and I'm not sure if She was meaning when She passed or literally there in the hospital.
Tears came to my eyes, but I was able to hold them in. She started to fall asleep again, and I told Her that I would stay with Her until She fell asleep, and She did very quickly.
* * *
I reported off that morning thinking that we had a good night. She and I had a good conversation, and connected.
When I got my assignment the next night, I didn't get Her back. I was actually a little upset that I wasn't assigned to Her. I was looking forward to talking with Her again. I wanted to make Her last few days comfortable and full of love. With some hand holding and brushing back Her hair. It was a lot of work, but I had a bond with Her that I wanted to continue. When I went to look to see who She was assigned to (to try to trade) She wasn't on the board. I was shocked. I thought for sure She had a few more days left in her.
Turns out She passed on a little after I left. And while that makes my heart lighten and smile, for She had so much pain, and needed so badly to rest, I was not ready for that to happen. I wanted to share a few more good times with her.
She will always leave a mark on me. The sometimes vulgar, frail girl, who aged way too quickly. A nurse I work with put it very well: her life was very short, but in so many ways She lived a very long, hard life. She partied too hard, too fast. And her mother was right there next to her through all of that. Funny that once Her mother found out that this hospitalization would be Her final resting place, she skipped out of town. She was there to cause her daughter's downward spiral, but not there to catch Her at the bottom. ("skipping out" and getting high are the only ways her mother would know how to cope...)
Before I cared for her, She was able to talk with the adoptive mom of Her only child. The adoptive mom said that Her little girl was healthy, smart, and HIV negative. A beauty. A wonder. A miracle. Her daughter has a chance in life that She never had. Love, support, and guidance. But most of all, a mother who will be there to catch her if she falls.
So, rest in peace my dear, you left your mark on the world.
Please note that facts have been changed to provide confidentiality.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Have you heard this song?
"Laughed Until we Cried" by Jason Aldean
Goin’ through my closet the other day
I found an old yearbook
Flipped right to the page of that senior trip
Down there on that Panama strip
We all started yellin’ when we smelled the beach
Couldn't wait to try our fake I.D.’s
We only had a few days
And a whole lot of memories to make
Oh man we were livin’
Didn't waste one minute
We talked and drank and danced and said goodbye
We laughed until we cried
This past year my family
Was sittin’ cross-legged 'round the Christmas tree
Listenin’ to granddad
We all knew it probably be his last
He was crackin’ jokes and we were takin’ turns
Tellin’ stories ‘bout fishin’ or lessons learned
Out on the porch with him
We all felt like kids again
Oh man we were livin
Sittin' there reminiscin'
We sang and talked and traveled back in time
We laughed until we cried
It's like the best days under the sun
Every emotion rolled into one
A little of this a little of that
Kinda happy kinda sad
Just the other night the baby was cryin’
So I got out of bed rocked her awhile
And I held her tight
And I told her it would be all right
And my mind went back to a few years ago
When we tried so long
We almost gave up hope
And I remember you
Comin' in and tellin’ me the news
Oh man we were livin’
Goin’ crazy in the kitchen
We danced and screamed and held each other tight
We laughed until we cried
_________________
The other day I kind of started to freak out. But first some background:
In high school, my periods were infrequent. I would go about 2-3 months without having a period. And then I would have a period that would last about a week or so. At first I liked having a 2-3 month window. But then it started to bother me. I would never know when my period would start...and it always seemed that it would start when I wasn't expecting it to.
So I went and saw my doctor (I believe I was in college at the time probably sophomore year) and he ran some tests. He thought that I had polycystic ovary disease but they only symptom I had was infrequent periods. I didn't have severe acne, or facial hair. So he drew some labs and noticed that my hormones were opposite from where they should be. (At the time I didn't know anything about hormones, so I don't know what hormones he was talking about, nor do I know the results.)
But my doctor did say: "you might have a hard time getting pregnant" and "we will face that when you are trying to get pregnant."
He prescribed birth control pills to help make my periods regular, predictable, and shorter.
Now, I am realizing that I'm starting to get old. I will be 30 in no time at all. And I don't know if I'm going to be able to get pregnant on my own.
A friend of mine from nursing school posted a post on myspace the other day: she's pregnant again. She got married shortly after graduating from nursing school, and even though they didn't purposefully try to get pregnant, they did. Then, with her baby 5 months old, while using both BCP and condoms, they got pregnant again!
I am happy for her, (she is still getting used to the idea of being pregnant again) but so jealous that it came so easy for her. (And I do not want to be pregnant with a 5 month old ideally my kids will turn 2 years old before a new addition) But like I said she didn't mean to become pregnant that quickly...it just happened.
I am not actively trying right now. I don't have enough leave for work yet. I don't think we could afford none of my paychecks coming in. I would like to be living in a new house and married before we start trying, but Jamaal isn't sure that we will be able to afford to move yet. So he wants to stay where we are for another year....and so we are throwing money away waiting...we are throwing precious time away waiting...
and I leave you with some more lyrics:
"You're Gonna Miss This" by Trace Adkins
She was staring out the window
Of their SUV
Complaining, saying,
I cant wait to turn 18
She said, "I'll make my own money"
And I'll make my own rules"
Mama put the car in park
Out there in front of the school
And she kissed her head
And said 'I was just like you"
You're going to miss this
You're going to want this back
You're going to wish these days
Hadn't gone by so fast
These are some good times
So take a good look around
You may not know it now
But you're going to miss this
Before she knows it
She's a brand new bride
In her one bedroom apartment
And her daddy stops by
He tells her "It's a nice place"
She says "It'll do for now"
Starts talking about babies
And buying a house
Daddy shakes his head
And says "Baby just slow down"
Cause
You're going to miss this
You're going to want this back
You're going to wish these days
Hadn't gone by so fast
These are some good times
So take a good look around
You may not know it now
But you're going to miss this
Five years later
There's a plumber
Working on the water heater
Dogs barking, phones ringing
One kids crying, one kids screaming
She keeps apologizing
He says "They don't bother me.
I've got two babies of my own.
One's 36, one's 23.
It's hard to believe..."
But
You're going to miss this
You're going to want this back
You're going to wish these days
Hadn't gone by so fast
These are some good times
So take a good look around
You may not know it now
But you're going to miss this
You're going to miss this
Yeah you're going to miss this
______________
It's too bad Jamaal doesn't like country music...because it is the soundtrack of my life...
Goin’ through my closet the other day
I found an old yearbook
Flipped right to the page of that senior trip
Down there on that Panama strip
We all started yellin’ when we smelled the beach
Couldn't wait to try our fake I.D.’s
We only had a few days
And a whole lot of memories to make
Oh man we were livin’
Didn't waste one minute
We talked and drank and danced and said goodbye
We laughed until we cried
This past year my family
Was sittin’ cross-legged 'round the Christmas tree
Listenin’ to granddad
We all knew it probably be his last
He was crackin’ jokes and we were takin’ turns
Tellin’ stories ‘bout fishin’ or lessons learned
Out on the porch with him
We all felt like kids again
Oh man we were livin
Sittin' there reminiscin'
We sang and talked and traveled back in time
We laughed until we cried
It's like the best days under the sun
Every emotion rolled into one
A little of this a little of that
Kinda happy kinda sad
Just the other night the baby was cryin’
So I got out of bed rocked her awhile
And I held her tight
And I told her it would be all right
And my mind went back to a few years ago
When we tried so long
We almost gave up hope
And I remember you
Comin' in and tellin’ me the news
Oh man we were livin’
Goin’ crazy in the kitchen
We danced and screamed and held each other tight
We laughed until we cried
_________________
The other day I kind of started to freak out. But first some background:
In high school, my periods were infrequent. I would go about 2-3 months without having a period. And then I would have a period that would last about a week or so. At first I liked having a 2-3 month window. But then it started to bother me. I would never know when my period would start...and it always seemed that it would start when I wasn't expecting it to.
So I went and saw my doctor (I believe I was in college at the time probably sophomore year) and he ran some tests. He thought that I had polycystic ovary disease but they only symptom I had was infrequent periods. I didn't have severe acne, or facial hair. So he drew some labs and noticed that my hormones were opposite from where they should be. (At the time I didn't know anything about hormones, so I don't know what hormones he was talking about, nor do I know the results.)
But my doctor did say: "you might have a hard time getting pregnant" and "we will face that when you are trying to get pregnant."
He prescribed birth control pills to help make my periods regular, predictable, and shorter.
Now, I am realizing that I'm starting to get old. I will be 30 in no time at all. And I don't know if I'm going to be able to get pregnant on my own.
A friend of mine from nursing school posted a post on myspace the other day: she's pregnant again. She got married shortly after graduating from nursing school, and even though they didn't purposefully try to get pregnant, they did. Then, with her baby 5 months old, while using both BCP and condoms, they got pregnant again!
I am happy for her, (she is still getting used to the idea of being pregnant again) but so jealous that it came so easy for her. (And I do not want to be pregnant with a 5 month old ideally my kids will turn 2 years old before a new addition) But like I said she didn't mean to become pregnant that quickly...it just happened.
I am not actively trying right now. I don't have enough leave for work yet. I don't think we could afford none of my paychecks coming in. I would like to be living in a new house and married before we start trying, but Jamaal isn't sure that we will be able to afford to move yet. So he wants to stay where we are for another year....and so we are throwing money away waiting...we are throwing precious time away waiting...
and I leave you with some more lyrics:
"You're Gonna Miss This" by Trace Adkins
She was staring out the window
Of their SUV
Complaining, saying,
I cant wait to turn 18
She said, "I'll make my own money"
And I'll make my own rules"
Mama put the car in park
Out there in front of the school
And she kissed her head
And said 'I was just like you"
You're going to miss this
You're going to want this back
You're going to wish these days
Hadn't gone by so fast
These are some good times
So take a good look around
You may not know it now
But you're going to miss this
Before she knows it
She's a brand new bride
In her one bedroom apartment
And her daddy stops by
He tells her "It's a nice place"
She says "It'll do for now"
Starts talking about babies
And buying a house
Daddy shakes his head
And says "Baby just slow down"
Cause
You're going to miss this
You're going to want this back
You're going to wish these days
Hadn't gone by so fast
These are some good times
So take a good look around
You may not know it now
But you're going to miss this
Five years later
There's a plumber
Working on the water heater
Dogs barking, phones ringing
One kids crying, one kids screaming
She keeps apologizing
He says "They don't bother me.
I've got two babies of my own.
One's 36, one's 23.
It's hard to believe..."
But
You're going to miss this
You're going to want this back
You're going to wish these days
Hadn't gone by so fast
These are some good times
So take a good look around
You may not know it now
But you're going to miss this
You're going to miss this
Yeah you're going to miss this
______________
It's too bad Jamaal doesn't like country music...because it is the soundtrack of my life...
Friday, August 29, 2008
A mix of many things
Well I have scheduled my follow up with my thyroid MD, and we'll see how that goes. I'm nervous about it, mostly because I think I'll get chewed out. I want to get in there as soon as possible, hopefully get another ultrasound, and then decide. If I have the surgery at all, it would be good for me to get my surgery in before the year is over, because I have already paid my deductible for the year, and so it would be cheaper this year rather than waiting until next year.
_____________
So I've decided that I'm kind of pathetic when it comes to listening to songs on the radio. I almost cry, or at least get watery eyes practically once a day just because of the songs I hear. One gets me every time:
"Just a Dream" by Carrie Underwood.
It was two weeks after the day she turned 18
all dressed in white, going to the church that night
She had his box of letters in the passenger seat,
six pence in her shoe something borrowed something blue
and when the church doors opened up wide she put her veil down trying to hide the tears
oh she just couldn’t believe it she heard the trumpets from the military band and the flowers fell out of her hands
Chorus: Baby, why'd you leave me, why'd you have to go I was counting on forever, now I'll never know I cant even breathe
It's like I'm, looking from a distance, standing in the background Everybody's saying, he's not coming home now, This can't be happening to me This is just a dream
The preacher man said let us bow our heads and pray
lord please lift his soul and heal this hurt
then the congregation all stood up and sang the saddest song that she ever heard then they handed her a folded up flag and she held on to all she had left of him
oh and what could’ve been and then guns rang one last shot and it felt like a bullet in her heart
Chorus: Baby, why'd you leave me, why'd you have to go I was counting on forever, now I'll never know; I can't even breathe.
It's like I'm, looking from a distance, standing in the background
Everybody's saying, he's not coming home now, This can't be happening to me This is just a dream
Baby, why'd you leave me, why'd you have to goI was counting on forever, now I'll never know Ohh i'll never know
It's like I'm, looking from a distance, standing in the background Everybody's saying, he's not coming home now, This can't be happening to me This is just a dream
Oh this is just a dream just a dream, ya
______________________
The first time I heard it I thought she was going to her wedding, so I was happy for her, but then I realized that he had died, and then I lose it. That would be a terrible thing. I don't think I could handle that. And I realize that he was in the military, but to me it's the same thing: loss is loss, and I just couldnt handle that. (I know most people don't think they could, but life will go on, and I know that I would be able to function, but I'm soooo not ready for that.) Don't know that I'd ever be, but that's beside the point...
I keep thinking more and more about my wedding day and hope that it will be soon. I keep hinting for 6/6/09, (so keep that date open...) and so that song scares me even more...
CDs I want: Carrie Underwood Carnival Ride; Taylor Swift's self titled album; and Jordin Sparks' self titled album.
_____________
So I've decided that I'm kind of pathetic when it comes to listening to songs on the radio. I almost cry, or at least get watery eyes practically once a day just because of the songs I hear. One gets me every time:
"Just a Dream" by Carrie Underwood.
It was two weeks after the day she turned 18
all dressed in white, going to the church that night
She had his box of letters in the passenger seat,
six pence in her shoe something borrowed something blue
and when the church doors opened up wide she put her veil down trying to hide the tears
oh she just couldn’t believe it she heard the trumpets from the military band and the flowers fell out of her hands
Chorus: Baby, why'd you leave me, why'd you have to go I was counting on forever, now I'll never know I cant even breathe
It's like I'm, looking from a distance, standing in the background Everybody's saying, he's not coming home now, This can't be happening to me This is just a dream
The preacher man said let us bow our heads and pray
lord please lift his soul and heal this hurt
then the congregation all stood up and sang the saddest song that she ever heard then they handed her a folded up flag and she held on to all she had left of him
oh and what could’ve been and then guns rang one last shot and it felt like a bullet in her heart
Chorus: Baby, why'd you leave me, why'd you have to go I was counting on forever, now I'll never know; I can't even breathe.
It's like I'm, looking from a distance, standing in the background
Everybody's saying, he's not coming home now, This can't be happening to me This is just a dream
Baby, why'd you leave me, why'd you have to goI was counting on forever, now I'll never know Ohh i'll never know
It's like I'm, looking from a distance, standing in the background Everybody's saying, he's not coming home now, This can't be happening to me This is just a dream
Oh this is just a dream just a dream, ya
______________________
The first time I heard it I thought she was going to her wedding, so I was happy for her, but then I realized that he had died, and then I lose it. That would be a terrible thing. I don't think I could handle that. And I realize that he was in the military, but to me it's the same thing: loss is loss, and I just couldnt handle that. (I know most people don't think they could, but life will go on, and I know that I would be able to function, but I'm soooo not ready for that.) Don't know that I'd ever be, but that's beside the point...
I keep thinking more and more about my wedding day and hope that it will be soon. I keep hinting for 6/6/09, (so keep that date open...) and so that song scares me even more...
CDs I want: Carrie Underwood Carnival Ride; Taylor Swift's self titled album; and Jordin Sparks' self titled album.
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