Lost and Found

A couple of weeks ago as I was coming back from my daily walk I saw something in the street that looked like a credit card. I picked it up and saw that it was my neighbor's driver's license. We just know each other enough to wave and say "hello" when we see each other. Anyway, because it was the right thing to do, I returned her license to her.

Fast forward to last Thursday. It was kind of a busy day for me. Busier than I've been in a long time. By the end of the day, I was exhausted and pretty much fell into bed. The next day as I was getting ready to start my day, I went to put my driver's license in my pocket and I couldn't find it. My license, not my pocket.

I keep my license in a little business card holder, along with a couple of other things. Although I know you're not supposed to keep your Social Security Card in your wallet, that was one of the things in the holder because I needed it to fill out a form recently and never got around to taking it out of the holder again. I also had my insurance card, a couple of pictures and business cards and a press pass I don't need anymore but I keep anyway. Nostalgia.

I was in a panic. I searched everywhere. I retraced every step I made on Thursday. I asked people at the two stores I went to if anyone had seen it or turned it in. Nothing. On Thursday, I changed the sheets on my bed so, on Friday, I unmade the bed just in case the license et al fell in between them while I was making the bed. I checked my car twice. The third time, I even cleaned out the car. Nothing.

It was time to ask for St. Anthony's help. I prayed that if I couldn't find it myself that whoever did find it would mail it back to me. Saturday, nothing. Sunday, nothing. As of Monday afternoon, nothing. I was telling my Mom that I would have to go to the DMV today and get a new license; call the Social Security office; call the insurance people. I was not looking forward to that. I was also getting a little bit angry with St. Anthony for not helping me. I mean, it was just a couple of weeks ago that I'd returned a lost driver's license. Why couldn't someone do that for me? So, just as I was about to go upstairs and take a nap, I decided to check the car one more time. Sure enough, there it was, plain as day. I thanked St. Anthony and apologized for not believing in him.

Then I decided, as much as I didn't want to, I would start carrying a bigger wallet that wouldn't just slip out of my pocket without my noticing it. I carried that wallet when my Mom and I went to Wal-Mart last night. I put it in the top part of the shopping cart while we were in the store. Because it was raining so hard, I told my Mom to wait in the store while I put the groceries in the car. After doing that, I put the cart in the cart thingy and, as I was walking away, I thought I saw something still in the cart so I went back over to see what it was. Yeah. It was my wallet. You'd think I would have learned my lesson.

I did remember to pick up my Mom before I went home, though.

Blogiversary

Yesterday was my blogiversary but, with all the excitement from Blog Explosion, I forgot. Having my highest number of visitors ever was a nice gift, though.

Anyway, as you can see by my archives, this blog, in this form, didn't start until February 2002. However, my foray into the blogosphere actually started here on Aug. 27, 2001. (Don't go there. It's a mess. I haven't done any housekeeping since April.)

Holy crap! I've been blogging for 4 years! My original blog was just supposed to be my views on the news. But, I decided I wanted to do personal stuff as well. After September 11, I didn't feel it was right to blog about news while doing quizzes telling me what Muppet character I am on the same site. So I started A Waste is a Terrible Thing to Mind. That eventually turned into a site where I did longer, essay-type entries. I still needed a place for goofy stuff, so I started Anne's Place. Then I decided I couldn't keep up with three blogs so AWISATTTM and Anne's Place morphed into California Bloggin'.

It changed at about the same time Gary Turner started Blogstickers. While I was thinking of my own blogstickers to add to the collection (Mine are here.) I came up with "California Bloggin' ... on such a blogger day." Sometime last year I decided it was kind of stupid to name my blog "California Bloggin'" since I don't live in California anymore. Because one of my interests is the law, I decided I needed a legal term as a title. I searched an online legal dictionary and came up with Excited Utterances. However, I decided to keep California Bloggin' as the subtitle for nostalgic reasons.

Well, now that you know more about my blogging history than you probably ever wanted to know, have a great day!

Hi!

Hello to everyone who got here via Blog Explosion. I'm so thrilled to be the Site of the Day! I just wish I had something more interesting to post today. Well, it's early. Maybe something will come to me later.

Anyway, enjoy yourself ... and I hope you come back to visit again.

I Worry About the Strangest Things

I've lost 11 pounds in 10 days. That means I have 26 to go before I get to my pre-anemia (and too tired to exercise) weight. That's the good part because during the six weeks prior to my doctor's appointment I couldn't lose weight no matter what I did. But, as I'm sure anyone knows, losing 11 pounds in 10 days usually isn't a good thing.

The reason I lost the weight is that my doctor gave me Effexor to try for two weeks. One of the side effects is loss of appetite. All I've eaten for the last 10 days, each day, is a low-carb cookie, a low-carb mini muffin and a salad. And I have to force myself to eat that.

Now, here's where the worrying comes in. I guess I'm kind of a control freak or something because I think and re-think every possible scenario to every upcoming situation. (That could have something to do with social anxiety disorder, too, I guess.) I do this so I'll know how to react in any given situation. I have my next doctor's appointment on Wednesday. I don't know if he'll say I've lost too much weight and change the drug, which has helped me in every other way, or if he'll say it's good that I lost the weight. The third possibility is that he'll keep everything the way it is and schedule another appointment in a month or so to see how I'm doing. That's what I'm hoping.

Search Results

All I did was type "Sunspray Honeysuckle Smith." I didn't comment on it or even say why I had to type it. But those three words have gotten me tons of hits from Google. Of the last 20 search engine queries, 10 of them were for "Sunspray Honeysuckle Smith."

Now for some disturbing search results:

pussy cow blog. Even more disturbing is the fact that I'm the 51st result for the search. Who the heck went through the other 50 results to find what he/she was looking for then came here to look at a comment?

can I take Pamprin vaginally. Well, I guess so, but why would you want to?

I hate Rachel Ray. Get over it, people! Just don't watch her if you hate her so much! I was the 21st result for this search. Did this person just want to see how many people hate her? Did this person go to all 117 sites that mention hating her? That's just sick.

Common Courtesy

I worked in a restaurant and in convenience stores. At both places I was taught how to politely ring people out at the cash register. One of the things I was taught was to say "thank you" to each and every customer. You are thanking them for patronizing your business, I was taught. Also, I was taught to hand people their loose change before handing them the bills. Aside from the fact that it's the easiest way to count back change (a lost art, I believe), it's easier for the customer to handle if it's done that way. I was also taught to say something like "Enjoy the sunshine" or "Don't get too wet out there" as the customers left. We were encouraged not to use the generic "Have a nice day" so it would seem more personal.

That, dear readers, is why I get so angry frustrated when cashiers/clerks/people at the cash register (Sorry, but I don't know the politically correct term) are rude or apathetic. I won't get into everything that bothers me but one thing that really bothers me is no eye contact. That's the least they can do. Another is when I say "Thank you" and they say "You're welcome." You are supposed to be thanking me for spending money in your store. When I used to be behind the cash register, if a customer said "thank you" before I did, I always said "You're welcome ... and thank you." C'mon. Is it really that difficult?

OK. I'm finished ranting now.

Enjoy the weekend!

I Hate Blood Tests

When I went to the doctor last Tuesday, he orderd blood tests. I could go anytime I wanted before next Wednesday. Letting me decide when to go is not a good thing. It's better to tell me to be someplace on a designated day and time. I tend to procrastinate, especially when needles and pain are involved. But that's not the real reason I put it off so long. The tests were of the "nothing to eat or drink after midnight" variety. For a week, I kept waking up in the middle of the night, forgetting about the tests and drinking water because I was thirsty. But last night I slept really well and didn't wake up 'til 7 a.m. So, I got dressed, drove to the hospital and had the blood drawn.

I have a very low tolerance for pain so I really hate it when the lab tech says "You'll feel a little pinch" before she sticks me. Makes me want to pinch her back because it's never "little" and it's never just a "pinch." So, when she was finished, instead of putting that non-tape stuff on my arm to keep the cotton ball in place, she put tape on. And it wasn't the good surgical tape that comes off really easy. It was stickier than a band-aid and took me around half an hour to get if off, along with a few arm hairs. Ouch!

But, on the good side, I got a good parking place and the lab wasn't crowded so I got right in. I didn't even have to sit in the waiting room at all.

Night One

We had the first read-through for "War of the Worlds" last night. It was really good. The guy who re-wrote it for our purposes did an excellent job. It's not as preachy and dark as the original. I don't have a speaking part but, I will be on stage doing sound effects. It'll be the first time I've been on stage since a piano recital in sixth grade. I'm looking forward to it.

Style

Lately I've noticed that many news organizations are not following AP style. Even The Associated Press seems to have forgotten about its own Stylebook. I think this bothers me so much because, when I was in college, I had to memorize a large portion of The AP Stylebook. Of course that was in 1980 and the stylebook was much smaller then. I realize that, oftentimes, AP style is not the same as other standards of writing. But, in my opinion, there's still no excuse for professional journalists to ignore the rules of style that are supposed to ensure conformity in the industry.

Here are some of the infractions that bother me the most:

adviser - not advisor, but advisory

 AP, The Associated Press - use AP on second reference, capitalize The on first.

backward - not backwards

brand-new

chairman / chairwoman - do not use chairperson

district attorney - do not use DA or D.A.

doughnut - not donut unless part of a business name

entitled - means the right to something; titled refers to the name of a composition, book, poem etc.

farther - refers to physical distance; further refers to an extension of time or degree

Ferris wheel - Ferris was the inventor, so capitalize.

health care

hopefully - means in a hopeful manner. Do not use it to mean I hope or it is hoped.

jail - Not interchangeable with prison. It is short term.

kid / kids - use child and children unless in a direct quote

nolo contendere - “I do not contend,” use pleaded no contest or no-contest plea, depending on publication style. The defendant admits no guilt, but offers no defense. A defendant is sentenced as if convicted, but the charges may be denied in future legal cases.

OK - not okay. OK’d, OKs

presently - means in a little while; it doesn't mean now

pupil - children through eighth grade are pupils. Use student for ninth grade and above

Teen-ager

Tonight - 8 pm. Tonight is redundant.

T-shirt

toward - not towards

Knock it Off!

Hey, Old Guy! When you're standing behind me in the checkout line at the grocery store, I don't think it matters how many times you hit me with your shopping cart. The cashier is not going to go any faster and I'm not moving until I get my change. On second thought, I might move ... to turn around and shove the shopping cart back at you. Old age is no excuse for being rude.

Freaky

A couple of weeks ago I posted about how I'm a little bit psychic and how I'm trying to read my dreams better so I can do something about it. When I wrote that post, the only two examples I could come up with at the time were about people dying. Now I have another example. It's not earth-shattering or anything but it does freak me out, in a good way though.

Yesterday I was sitting here thinking that I should go to bed and rest with an ice pack on my abdomen because I felt some swelling and my scar was feeling weird. I wondered if there was a good movie on that I could watch while resting. I don't read TV Guide or look at the tv section in the newspaper, so I didn't know what was on. But, while I was thinking about movies I'd like to watch I thought "Sybil hasn't been on in a while. I could get into that." So, after I got myself situated, I turned on the television to the TV Guide Channel. You guessed it. Sybil was about to start. And it's not as if I saw a preview or ad for it or anything because it was on the Oxygen channel, which I rarely watch.

As I said, it's not earth-shattering but it's freaky.

I'm So Excited!

I just got an e-mail from the woman who is directing the show we're doing for the community theater group I belong to. I noticed that one of the other people who got the e-mail is a woman I used to work with. I'm so excited about that because she's one of the people I miss. We started working there within months of each other 10 years ago. (Ten years? Has it really been that long?) There are other people who I'm excited about working with on the play, too. This is going to be so much fun!

The only problem is that, because of rehearsals, I'll be missing BB6. Yikes! Well, Kaysar's gone anyway so I guess it really doesn't matter.

Karma

I'm a firm believer in Karma. In Buddhism, only intentional actions are karmic "acts of will." The "Law of Karma" refers to "cause and effect," but Karma literally means "action" - often indicating intent or cause. Simply stated, "What goes around comes around."

That's why I don't hold grudges or seek retribution. I just live my life, trying to be the best person I can be. If others wrong me, although it's difficult sometimes, I try to let it slide, knowing that those people will eventually get what's coming to them with no "help" from me.

It's probably wrong of me to laugh when I see that they have reaped what they've sown but, sometimes I just can't help it. But the laughing doesn't last long. I don't dwell on it. I just tell myself it was taken care of, just like I knew it would be.

Fair Animals

You can't go to the fair without visiting the animals, right?

This little brown calf was so cute!



This is not a two-headed horse. It's a mamma horse and her baby, Windy, who was born May 17.



Some very hungry little piggies and one very tired mamma pig.



This is Moose. Holy mackerl, he's one big pig! I don't know how much he weighs now but, the sign on his pen said he weighed 12 pounds when he was born in 2001.

More Fair Stuff

Yesterday was Red Hat Society Day at the fair. When I'm old enough, I want to be a Red Hat Lady. I think it would be cool to dress in purple and red and just have fun.



This is the kiddie carnival area. I thought it was really colorful, so that's why I took the picture.



This is the Ferris wheel I thought about riding but, I chickened out.




This is Nellie. I won her in one of those shoot-the-water-at-the-little-black-hole games.

Willie!

Awesome. Awesome. Awesome! Wow! Great concert! It would have to rank in the top 5 of all the concerts I've seen ... and I've seen some big name people in concert. Anyway, Uncle Crappy, he didn't sing any of the new reggae stuff during the show. But, before the show they played some stuff from that album and, let's just say I'll never trust a People magazine reviewer again. I really liked it and I wish he would have played some of that during the concert. But what he did sing was great! I couldn't get over the fact that I was hearing and seeing Willie Nelson, in person, singing "On the Road Again" and "Always on My Mind."





And this is him singing "Crazy." The picture isn't that great but, I didn't want to try to get a better one and miss the song.



Now, here's something that happened while we were in line waiting to get in.

Lady in Line #1: I love Willie Nelson! He's so cool! (add lots of Oh my Gods and He's so awesomes and lots of other similar phrases.)
Lady in Line #2: Yeah.
Lady in Line #1 (singing): ... down, down, down like a burning ring of fire.
Lady in Line #2: That's Johnny Cash.
LIL#1: Oh. (singing)... Mammas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys ...
LIL#2: That's Waylon Jennings.
LIL#1: Oh. (singing) ... You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille.
LIL#2: Kenny Rogers.
LIL#1: Oh.
My Friend: Is she serious?
Me: I don't know but, if she doesn't stop I'm going to have to sing "Achy Breaky Heart."

Apparently she heard me and was frightened by either the thought of my singing, or the song, or both, because she stopped. I guess that makes her smarter than she seemed.

And We're Off

We'll be leaving for the fair soon. Eleven hours 'til Willie. Thirty-something hours 'til my review for Uncle Crappy.

Before I go, let me leave you with this:

George: I was discombobulated.
Elaine: When were you ever bobulated?

Theater People

Did you ever notice how some groups of people, just because of their personalities and attitudes, can bring you down while other groups put you on a natural high? Well, I realized last night that "theater people" put me on a natural high. Actually, I knew that before but it really hit home last night because I've been so down lately.

I'm only going to be on the tech crew again because I'm not quite ready to try acting yet but, I'm still really excited. I'm hoping, though, that one of the shows this year will have a really, really, really small part ... like one line. Just something to get my feet wet.

Hints From Heloise

I only read this column in the newspaper for the humor factor. At least four times a week I find myself laughing and thinking "Did you think that up all by yourself?" I mean, I can't believe these people are lame enough to think their ideas are new, and that no one ever thought of them before. But then, the worst part is that "Heloise" and her people decided to print them! Here are a few examples:

1) If you live alone, instead of cutting a recipe for four people in fourths, cook the whole thing and freeze the other three portions for later. ... Brilliant!

2) Use old grocery bags to line your trash cans to save money on store-bought trash can liners. ... Genius!

And lest you think these hints come from 20-somethings who were pampered at home and learned these tips when they started living on their own, here's a gem from a grandmother who is now passing her expertise onto her grandchildren and other young adults who are heading off to college in the fall:

While you're getting ready to go away to college, make a list of everything you'll need. Use this list when you're packing so you don't forget anything.

Oh my God! Just think of all the college kids who, for hundreds of years, packed without using a list. Just think of all the headaches that could have been avoided if this woman had passed her tip along sooner. How dare she keep that secret to herself all these years!

Gross!

There's one grocery store in town where, because of a temporary display they have set up, "traffic" is one-lane until you get well into the store. Yesterday when I walked in, there was an older woman in front of me. I had to stand behind her while she got her shopping list out of her purse and read it, presumably deciding where to go first. Well, while she was deciding she let out this booming, messy-sounding fart. You know the kind I mean, right? You want to tell her she should go check her britches or something. I'm tellin' ya, this fart was so bad that even holding my breath couldn't keep the smell out of my nostrils. I literally had to leave the store and get some fresh air before I did my shopping. Even then, the smell lingered. Man, it was bad!

I Don't Know What This Means

Maybe it doesn't mean anything but, I've woken up at 6:11 three mornings in a row, without an alarm clock. Could be my body is just getting into a routine, I guess.

Anyway, I started feeling sick to my stomach yesterday. I haven't taken Tums in a long time but I was popping them like peanuts yesterday because the sick feeling just wouldn't go away. It's worse today. Then, I just heard on the radio that one of the morning show hosts got sick yesterday and is still sick today. I hope there's not something going around. I was just hoping I ate something that didn't agree with me. I have too much to do next week to be sick.

Eighty-two Percent!

I'm not a math whiz but, 82% of 5 million people is a lot of votes. Yay Kaysar! I just wish "the friendship" was told what a blowout it was. And I wish I could have seen Eric's face when Julie said it was 82%. Ha! It was funny enough when Julie didn't say his name, and you could tell he was totally expecting it. Ha! Ha! Now Kaysar just has to win HoH and it would be total redemption. I just checked a BB6 update board and, as of the last posting, Kaysar, Rachel and Jennifer were still in the running. "The friendship" is trying to convince Kaysar and Rachel to give it to Jenn because she's never been HoH and they have. Do they really think Kaysar is going to give up? If they do, they're more stupid than I thought they were.

A Day Late

I forgot to post about this yesterday. I haven't been keeping up with the BB6 message boards because, well, I just have too much other stuff to keep up on. So, I was pleasantly surprised when I watched Tuesday's show. Howie totally redeemed himself by nominating Ivette after James used the veto on himself. The way I see it, April, Janelle and Rachel will vote to evict Ivette for sure. Maggie and Beau will vote to evict Sarah. Jennifer is iffy but, she'll probably go with April and vote to oust Ivette. While it would seem obvious for James to vote for Ivette's eviction, you just never know. As emotional as Sarah is, if she ever found out he voted to evict her, I doubt he'd be able to explain it away as strategy. So, it's looking like it's lights out for Ivette. While she's mildy entertaining, she's also annoying so I really won't be sad to see her go. And if Kaysar comes back? Yeah, baby! It'll be a game again and the good guys will rule. I hope. I wouldn't even be too upset if Michael came back. As long as it's not Eric, I'll be fine.

Food and Women ... Italian Style

Our city's Italian festival is coming up this weekend. It always makes me think of my grandmother more than I usually do. The reason is that someone usually makes ham pie, just like Grandma used to make. It's just ham and eggs in a pie crust that's a little thicker than a fruit pie crust. My Grandma always made it in the week following Easter. It was always my favorite part of the holiday. You could have the chocolate bunnies and hard boiled eggs. Just give me the ham pie.

There is one thing that makes me angry during the festival, though. It's the use of the word "wands" when referring to a pastry-like food. They're strips of fried dough kind of crunchy on the inside and a little soft on the inside. When they're done, you dust them with powdered sugar. Yummy! (They're not at all like fried dough ... or elephant ears as they're known in some parts of the country.) In my large, extended family (my brother, sister and I and all our cousins, on both sides of the family, are FBI .. full-blooded Irish and Italian.) we call these Curly-Qs because my Grandma, and many other people who make them, twist them before deep frying them. Other people simply call them "ribbon pastries." But there is a small faction calling them "wands." Despite the fact that they look like wands, this pisses off al lot of people. Why? There is no "w" in the Italian alphabet! No one in my family can figure out why people, especially Italians, started calling them wands. Last year, I learned that one of the organizers of our Italian festival, and her family, are frustrated by this as well. In a way, I was comforted by knowing my family isn't alone in this. This organizer has been trying to get people to stop calling them wands, but it's not working. The wand faction is very stubborn.

Every year during the festival when I see the sign for "wands," I want to rip it down, tear it to shreds and scream "There is no 'W' in Italian!" But I don't because I don't want to have a bunch of older Italian ladies mad at me. Trust me, you do not want any older Italina lady mad at you. It's not pretty. Not pretty at all.

Odds & Ends

Sunspray Honeysuckle Smith. I just had to say that.

There's a local commercial for an auto dealership. The announcer doesn't enunciate very well. The first few times I heard this commercial I wasn't looking at the tv and I thought he was saying "Sugar Lake." I didn't know there was a Sugar Lake near here and, even if there was, what it had to do with cars. The next time the commercial came on, I watched it. He's actually saying "Chevrolet."

I didn't even know episodes of "Minding the Store" had started airing. I just heard that the season finale is this week. I guess my addiction to reality tv isn't as bad as I thought it was.

You know the Geico commercial where the cavemen are at dinner with the Geico rep? The Geico rep reminds me of a lawyer I know. So does Olivier on "The Law Firm," except the lawyer I know isn't as arrogant as Olivier. So does the guy in the Diet Vanilla Dr. Pepper commercial. I think I have Lawyer-on-the-Brain Disease.

When I was in California, we said next time the Shuttle landed at Edwards we'd go. I don't think I'm going to make it in time. I'm praying that they make it back safely, though.

I think Rachel should cut Howie loose. Nominating James and Sarah could possibly be one of the dumbest moves in Big Brother history. Makes me miss Kaysar even more. I hope "America" is smart enough to bring him back.

It's gotta be part of the reality tv addiction. I've been watching "The Surreal Life." I'm mentioning this because Bronson Pinchot is on it. He and I were in the same edition of "Who's Who of American High School Students" back in the late '70s.

The "before" images of Willie Aames, Gary Busey and Phil Magera on "Celebrity Fit Club" are downright scary. Stop showing them! Please!

I think that's all for now.

More on Synchronicity

Yesterday I e-mailed The Best Friend about synchronicity and the improper use of the word. I'm tellin' ya, when I need validation on how I'm feeling about something, the man never lets me down. "Isn't synchronicity a Jung concept?" he asked. Yes. Yes, it is. Even the dictionary says that.

Over the years, the misuse of the word has become rampant. It's not unlike the misuse of "utilize," which is not interchangeable with "use." For example, as the dictionary says:

The teachers were unable to use the new computers might mean only that the teachers were unable to operate the computers, whereas The teachers were unable to utilize the new computers suggests that the teachers could not find ways to employ the computers in instruction.

As I said yesterday, you have to know the right word to get your meaning across.

Then she had to go and ruin it for me

Most people, even those who don't smoke, probably know this. People selling cigarettes are required to ask for ID from anyone they don't think is 30 years old. Although it's legal to buy cigarettes at age 21, 30 gives the seller a little bit of a buffer. So, I was at a convenience store a few minutes ago (my third favorite, where not all the people know me). This is what happened:

ME: May I have a pack of Kools please?
CLERK: Can I see some ID?
ME (flattered, but not sure I heard her correctly): Excuse me?
CLERK: ID. I need some ID.
ME (handing her my wallet): Uh, sure. OK.
CLERK: Can you take it out of that?
ME: You got it.
CLERK (after using the calculator): Did you say Kools?
ME: Yep.
CLERK (after the transaction): Have a good day ma'am.

So, when I walked in she didn't think I was 30. By the time I walked out I was "ma'am." *shaking my head*

Words

You really have to have a love of words to know when to use exactly the right one. For example, the words synchronicity and serendipity have similar meanings. You have to really know what you're trying to say in order to use the word that will get your meaning across.

I'm mentioning this becuase synchronicity and serendipity are two of my favorite words (Yes, I have favorite words.) and I like seeing other writers use them. Properly. Sometimes, however, neither word fits and you should just go with "coincidence." Granted, that word isn't as much fun to read or write but, if it's right, it's right.

That's part of the joy of writing. Part of the joy of reading is finding a writer who understands the little nuances of the English language.

For the record (from M-W.com because Dictionary.com was unavailable):

synchonicity: the coincidental occurrence of events and especially psychic events that seem related but are not explained by conventional mechanisms of causality

serendipity: the phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for

coincidence: the occurrence of events that happen at the same time by accident but seem to have some connection


Update:: Here's a word that's more fun than "coincidence" and more accurate than the others in a certain situation. Happenstance: an event that might have been arranged although it was really accidental

See how much fun I have looking for exactly the right word? It's so satisfying.

Triple Installment of Tales of the Traffic Law Challenged

If you live on a residential, narrow, two-lane street do not park a U-Haul on the road in front of your house and a U-Haul trailer on the opposite side of the street, thus making this street one-way.

At an intersection with four-way stop signs, you must wait your turn before driving through said intersection. It works like this people: Traffic moves clockwise. Let's start with the vehicles at the south side of the intersection, shall we? One vehicle moves. Then, one from the west moves. Then, one from the north. Then one from the east. And so on. Say there are only vehicles at the south and east points of said intersection. The same premise applies. One from the south. One from the east. And so on. It is not, and I repeat, not one from the south, two from the east. This possible accident-causing ignoring of the rule just happened not once, not twice but three times. Unless a law was changed and I don't know about it ... Cut it out, people!

Now for the first pedestrian mention in Tales of the Traffic Law Challenged. It doesn't matter how big your dog is or who you are, you are supposed to cross at the cross walk. Even if it's more convenient to cross in the middle of the street, do not do this when there is a car headed straight for you. I understand that in a collision between your dog and my car, your dog would win. That doesn't mean I wouldn't hit you and your dog anyway if I was in a bad mood and/or wasn't paying attention.

That's all for now. More later, I'm sure.

Told ya I have insomnia




I slept 'til 12:30 (and, keeping my promise to have fewer posts on bodily functions, I won't tell you what I did.) I tried to get back to sleep but couldn't. Oh well.

Post #48

Any life-altering situation forces you to take a look at your life, what's working and what's not. It's during these life-altering situations that we should strive to eliminate anything that isn't working and concentrate on making what is working even better.

That's what I'm trying to do.

To anyone who was here for the first time during the 'thon, if y'all come back I can promise you this:

1)More humor
2)Fewer posts about bodily functions
3)Better titles

Good night!

Oh yeah. One more thing ... There's still time to donate. You have 'til Tuesday. Even if you don't do it for me, do it for someone else, ok? There are lots of great charities out there that need help.

Sure. Now I get a second, uh, third wind and can think of things to post. Be that as it may, the mind may be willing but the flesh is weak. Again, good night!

Post #47

On the days the depression isn't bad, I feel so much better about myself than I ever thought I would or could. I'm stronger and way less tolerant of bullshit now. That, in and of itself, would be enough reason to go through this whole thing again.

Post #46

As I said 23 hours ago, I'm neither pro- nor anti-hysterectomy. All I can say is that it was the right decision for me. Even with the problems I've had, I can say I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Nothing I'm experiencing now is as bad as how I felt before I had the surgery.

Post #45

The dreaded “swelly belly” is another problem. All my pre-surgery clothes fit me now, except they're tighter in the abdomen than they were before. Swelly belly is just what it sounds like. And it gets worse as the day wears on, and worse yet if you don't listen to your body and you do more than you should.

The reason for this is that the intestines, bladder and other internal organs were traumatized during surgery. There was lots of pushing, pulling and manipulating. Also, everything has to move around to fill up the space where the uterus was. Because of all this moving around, there's lots of bruising and, therefore, swelling. It can take anywhere from six months to a year for everything to heal internally. No amount of exercise or dieting will make it go away either. In fact, exercise can make it worse.

One of the ways this was explained is an analogy to a sprained ankle. When your ankle is bruised and swollen, the last thing you should do is walk on it to make it better. Same for “swelly belly.”

Right now, though, it's pretty bad. “Overdoing it” can be something as simple as sitting for too long without having my feet up as much as I should. For the last few hours, I could have posted about my ever-expanding tummy. It's grown about 6 inches in the last 8 hours. But at least it doesn't hurt. Yet.

Post #44

In the 12 weeks that followed that doctor's appointment, I've had a few complications, a couple major ones but, obviously, not bad enough to keep me from doing the Blogathon, although this probably isn't the smartest thing I've ever done. But hey, it's for a good cause, right?

One problem that's actually working to my advantage right now is insomnia. I think it's been about 8 weeks since I got more than 3 hours of sleep at a time. I'm hoping that's related to the next problem.

The biggest problem is Depression. I know many post-surgical patients experience this, especially when hormones are involved. Knowing the problem is common, doesn't make it any easier to deal with. I have an appointment with my regular doctor on Tuesday and I'm going to make him listen to me and take care of this.

If anything, this experience has empowered me and shown me how to take charge of my medical care.

60 %

There's a 60 % chance that I'll survive the 'thon.
Will you survive the Blogathon?

At this point, I kinda hoped the chances would be highher. But, I'm not giving up now! I can do this!

Post #43

This doesn't really have anything to do with the hysterectomy or my recovery. It's about my doctor. The day I got my staples out was the last time I saw him. Early on in this whole thing, I learned that he wasn't going to be the permanent replacement for the GYN who died. He would be leaving a couple of weeks after the last time I saw him.

Anyone who's ever read this blog before knows that I believe in angels and signs from above and other supernatural things. Well, this might be a stretch but, I believe this doctor was sent here just to take care of me. I don't think that's the reason the other doctor died, of course, but I believe someone was looking out for me. I mean, c'mon. This doctor comes here, takes care of the problems that have been plaguing me for 33 years, then leaves.

And it's not just that. From seeing how he was with his other patients, I know he treated me differently. In the short time he was here, we developed the kind of relationship it takes years for a patient and doctor to develop. I don't really want to get into all of it because it might seem as if I'm trying to make more of it than there really was. But there was something.

I guess no one else has to believe he was sent here to take care of me, but I believe it.

Post #42

To close me up, the doctor used 14 staples. My sister told me I'd feel so much better after they were taken out. I'd be able to sit up straight and move around more freely. On May 19, a week after the surgery, I found out she was right.

At the doctor's office, Molly the nurse said I might feel a little pinch when she took the staples out. I didn't feel a thing. We had a cute little conversation about what a good job the doctor did and how straight the incision was, and other goofy stuff. Then, the doctor came in, looked me over and said I seemed to be doing “great.” Actually, I kind of felt as if I was, too.

Then he told me I could go back to work whenever I was “ready.” I almost started crying because, as good as I felt, I knew I wasn't ready to go back. He said “ready” means mentally and emotionally as well as physically. I was relieved to hear that.

I don't know why I told him this but, I said “It's hard to believe I was in pretty good shape six months ago, isn't it?

He said it wasn't. He could tell that I was. Then he said “The uterus is a strange thing.”

Ain't that the truth!

Post #41

When I got a prescription for the pain reliever Lortab (similar to Vicodin), I was concerned that it was only for 30 of them, with only one refill. I thought, for sure, I'd be needing them for a couple of months. But, surprisingly, considering I have such a low tolerance for pain, I took myself off them on Tuesday. I just took ibuprofen when I needed something, which wasn't very often.

As a side note, before the surgery I used to go through a 500 count bottle of ibuprofen in about six weeks. In the 13 weeks since the surgery, I haven't even gone through a bottle of 50 yet. I'd say that's a pretty good indicator of how much pain I was in pre-surgery.

Anyway, I really didn't have many problems at home except finding a way to comfortably, and painlessly, get out of bed. By Tuesday I had that problem licked.

The biggest problem was gas pains. Unless you've gone through abdominal surgery, you can't even imagine how bad the pain is. It feels as if there's some alien inside you trying to push its way out. It's really horrendous! It took a while for that problem to go away ... about two-and-a-half weeks.

I was doing so well that I felt guilty that my sister put her life on hold to help me for a week. I found myself making up things she could for me, like bring me a cup of herbal tea, which I could have easily done by myself.

The only thing I really wanted someone to do for me was change the dressing on the incision, which I had to do everyday after showering. But, I did it myself because, well, I didn't want my sister having to do something like that. Maybe if it wasn't a bikini cut I would have felt differently.

Post #40

Just a little pre-post note: If I ever again have major surgery within 3 months of Blogathon, remind me to just be a sponsor, ok? Thanks!

I know I'm loopy now. I'm LOL'ing at “pre-post.”

Nothing else especially noteworthy happened Friday and Saturday, except one thing. I had a reaction to Percocet, which I was given after they stopped the morphine. It lowered my blood pressure to 95/60 (or 90/65, I don't remember exactly). They lowered the dose and everything was fine.

My doctor visited me a lot, too. He delivered 5 babies that weekend so he was there for them, too. I didn't care why he was there, I'm just glad he was.

Post #39

“Would you like to take a shower?” seems as if it would be an easy enough question to answer, doesn't it? Well, I wanted to take one but, I didn't think I was up to it. So, after unhooking my IVs, (I hated saying good-bye to that morphine!) a nurse helped me wash up. She even washed my back. I felt so much better, and human, after that.

A little while later, another nurse came in to take my catheter out. Although I wanted it taken out, I knew that meant I'd actually have to get out of bed and walk 20 steps to the bathroom and back. I figured if they thought I was ready, I must be. I asked the nurse if it would hurt when she took the catheter out. She told me I might feel a little pull. Thankfully, I didn't feel a thing.

Shortly after that, a couple of nurses got me out of bed and settled into a chair. Surprisingly, sitting felt pretty good. Getting up was the hard part. The first time I tried it is the first time I had to use the bathroom. I very slowly made my way there, then sat and sat and sat. Nothing came out so I gave up. I thought maybe I didn't have to go after all. I mean, all I had was ice chips, half a glass of ginger ale and half a bowl of Jell-O. It's possible that I didn't have to go, right?

Wrong. Shortly after lunch (mac & cheese and spinach, which really suprised me), a nurse's aide came in and noticed that I hadn't “voided” yet. She said if I didn't soon, they'd have to put the catheter back in. Talk about scare tactics! I know the reason they wait 'til you're “under” to put it in is that it hurts so much. So, I went back to the bathroom and sat there until something came out. It took a good 5 minutes to get a couple of dribbles. After that, it kept getting easier.

As for lunch, although I was happy to see the mac & cheese, I didn't eat much of it. I really had no appetite. In a way, I wish I still had that problem.

Post #38

That's pretty much all I remember about the day of the surgery. The first thing I remember about the next day is waking up and seeing a food tray next to my bed. I didn't even feel hungry until I saw it sitting there. I lifted the lid and saw Jell-O. I guess I shouldn't have expected anything else. But Jell-O? Well, let me tell you: I never knew lemon Jell-O could taste so good! I'm sure it was because I hadn't eaten anything in more than 36 hours.

Post #37

Despite all the pain (although it had eased up and was almost bearable), the thing that bothered me most for a couple of hours was the itching. My arms itched quite a bit but, holy crap, my nose was driving me nuts! No matter what I did, it would not stop! I never even thought about telling anyone about this. Then, a nurse came in and started another IV. She told me it was Benadryl because some people have a reaction to morphine and it makes them itch. I said “Oh! So that's why my nose won't stop itching!” She kind of laughed and asked why I hadn't mentioned anything about that. I told her I didn't think it was important.

Post #36

I know my mom and a friend visited me ... because they talked about it later. I only have vague recollections of that. The thing I remember most is that I was telling them how cool the leg massager things were and that I loved the morphine pump.

Also, someone brought in a plant that my aunt and uncle sent me. When I woke up and saw it there, it made me smile.

Post #35

I thought I remembered my doctor coming in to check on me a couple more times. I think I even remember talking to him again but, I couldn't be sure. I think it was early evening when I asked if he'd been there. The nurse winked and said “He's been here a few times but, we won't tell him you don't remember. We wouldn't want to hurt his feelings, would we?”

Post #34

Sometime during the night, after checking my bowel sounds, a nurse told me I could have some flat ginger ale if I drank it slowly. Drinking something, even flat ginger ale, was so much better than sucking on ice chips.

Sometime, I don't remember when, my doctor came in and told me the nurses told him he had “a very nice patient.” I said “Don't sound so surprised.” He smiled and left.

It was about that time that they took me off the blood pressure monitor. I was glad because that thing was really annoying.

Post #33

As I said in the last post, my brain was kind of foggy for about 24 hours. (Way worse than it is now) The next few posts will be snippets of things I remember.

A nurse told me that because of the anesthetic still in my body, I'd be drifting in and out of sleep all night long. She said when I woke up I'd feel as if I slept for hours but it would actually only be a couple of minutes. She warned me that it would be a weird feeling. I'm glad she warned me. I remember looking at the clock at 9 p.m. and thinking “Oh good, I can watch CSI.” Then I fell asleep. When I woke up, I remember being a little ticked off because I missed CSI. Then I looked at the clock again. It was 9:05.

Post #32

Due to my anesthetic, morphine and Toradol induced fog, I don't remember the exact sequence of events for the next 24 hours. But I'll try to relay them as best I can.

Come to think of it, the day of surgery was kind of like the day after Blogathon, except with more pain and no money going to charity.

Back to the hospital....

When they got me to my room, I remember seeing my mom sitting there. The nurses told her to leave so they could get me settled. One of the nurses asked if I wanted to move to my bed myself or if I wanted help. I really wanted to ask “Are you nuts?! I can't even freakin' think about moving right now!” But I was polite and asked for help. After I was in bed, they hooked me up to a blood pressure monitor, took my vital signs and made sure I was as comfortable as possible. The best thing they did was explain how to use the morphine pump. I could press it every six minutes and, believe me, I knew when six minutes was up without even looking at the clock. Pain is a good time keeper.

Some people who have abdominal surgery like this part. Some don't. I loved it! They had these automatic leg massager things on me so I wouldn't develop blood clots in my legs. Every few minutes they would puff up and give my legs, from ankles to thighs, a little massage. It felt so good, like I was in a spa or something. I'm sure spas spell better than a hospital, though. The nurses took them off sometime during the night, if I promised to move my legs every now then. I was kind of depressed about their removal, until I realized they were making my legs sweat. So, although the massages felt good, the fresh air felt better.

Because they did so much stuff with my bowels and bladder, I couldn't ingest anything besides ice chips for several hours. So, everytime I woke up from a morphine-induced nap, I'd pop a couple into my mouth. Then, I'd use my lip balm because, I'm tellin' ya, my lips were so dry! Thank God Hysters Sisters suggested the lip balm.

Post #31

The first thing I remember thinking is “Where did that hour and 34 minutes go?” (Actually, I probably didn't do the math. I can barely do math when my brain is all there.) Then the pain hit! Several weeks later when I was trying to describe how bad it was, I said to my mother “It felt as if someone just cut me with a knife.” As soon as I said that I had to laugh. It was exactly as if someone just cut me with a knife. Anyway, Jamie asked me to rate my pain on a scale from 1 to 10. I wanted to say “ten,” but I know you have to be practically unconscious to be in that much pain, and I didn't want her to think I was a wimp, so I said “eight.”

Jamie started a morphine IV and was there to press it every 6 minutes for me. I have no idea how long it was but, the pain wasn't easing up so she put an oxygen mask on me and told me that would help. Eventually, it did. At sometime around 10:45 a.m. I was moved to my room.

Post #30

At 7:58 a.m. I was wheeled into the operating room. The people there helped me move from the gurney to the operating table. They put some warm blankets on me, which felt really good. They hooked me up to a blood pressure monitor and some other equipment. Then someone asked how I felt. I said “Nervous.” The anesthesiologist said “I'll give you something to take care of that.”

The next thing I remember is opening my eyes and a nurse looking down at me. She said, “Hi Anne. I'm Jamie and you're in recovery. It's 9:32 a.m.”

Post #29

Shortly after the anesthesiologist visit, I was moved to a holding area. After yet another round of questioning, one of the nurses told me they were waiting for the results of the blood test before they could do anything else. She told me the blood test was a pregnancy test. I couldn't help but laugh.

My doctor came in and asked how I was feeling. I said, “The more important question is 'How are you feeling?'” I asked him if he was OK and did he get a good night's sleep. He laughed. I felt better.

Not long after that, the nurse came back and said “Anne, good news. You're not pregnant.” I said, “Thank God. That would have been an interesting turn of events.”

Post #28

I don't remember how long I'd been laying there before the anesthesiologist came in. He asked more questions, more medical history. I told him I have a weak stomach and was afraid of being nauseated by whatever he was going to give me. He made a note of that and told me it wouldn't be a problem. Then he asked if anyone in my family had ever had a problem with any kind of anesthesia. I deferred to my mom. When she had surgery after her stroke, she had a bad reaction to (and I'm not even going to pretend to know how to spell this) succinolcholine. Bad is an understatement. It left her paralyzed and in ICU with a breathing tube for about 24 hours. The anesthesiologist said that was very important to know because reactions to that can be genetic.

Prior to surgery, my biggest fear was being “put under” and never waking up or, even worse, ending up in a vegetative state. I even told everyone I know .... well, anyone who would listen ... that if something went terribly wrong and we had a Teri Schiavo situation on our hands, if I couldn't read or write or enjoy movies, there was no point in my living.

Talking with the anesthesiologist calmed most of my fears.

Post #27

You know, three hours ago I didn't think I was gonna make it through this thing. I wonder what happened? Oh yeah! Peanut butter cups=chocolate=caffeine=Anne getting her second wind.

OK. Let's get to the hospital, shall we?


I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep the night before the surgery. I had to be at the hospital at 6 a.m. I finally fell asleep sometime around 3 or 4 a.m., I think. By 5:15, I was awake again and figured I might as well get ready.

Because of all my mom's medical problems over the last 15 years, we've been in and out of the hospital a lot together. After I parked the car, as we were walking toward the hospital door, I handed her the car key. She looked confused. I said, “It didn't hit you until just now that it's me, not you, going to the hospital, did it?” She admitted it and we kind of got a laugh out of that.

Inside the hospital, she went to the surgical waiting room for families. I went to admissions. I expected to go to the waiting room with her after talking to the admissions people but, instead, I was whisked away to the lab. They had to do one more blood test. I didn't ask what it was for; I just wanted it to be over with. After that, I was told to go to the pre-surgery area. I'd been there with my mom a couple of times but, it looks so different when you're the patient.

My nurse was Kimberly, a friend of my sister's who I've known since high school. Having her as my nurse was nice, comforting. She had me change into a hospital gown and put on a pair of tight stockings (I can't remember what they're called) to keep me from getting blood clots in my legs. After that, she started an IV (I don't remember what was in it) and asked me some questions. They were pretty much the same questions I'd been asked during the pre-op appointment, just basic medical history. When that was finished, she brought my mom in. We didn't really talk about anything but it was nice having her there.

Post #26

I just remembered I have mini peanut butter cups here! Yay me for thinking ahead ... and not eating them 'til now.

On to other pleasant thoughts. They really are pleasant this time. I promise.


One of the nicest things about situations like this is that you learn who your true friends are, how much your family loves you and who you can really depend on when you need someone. I can't say enough good things about the people who came through for me, and are still helping me.

I do, however, have to single out my sister. Our relationship hasn't always been the best but, we've managed to work things out and become friends. I honestly don't know how I would have gotten through any of this without her.

Post #25

Again, thanks to Hyster Sisters I knew what to do to prepare for surgery, my stay in the hospital and recovery at home. My surgery was on a Thursday. The doctor told me to expect to be in the hospital until Monday but, if all went well, I could possibly be home by Sunday. I told myself to shoot for Sunday.

Be that as it may, I knew I'd have some major preparations to make so I didn't have any problems getting around once I got home. I live in a two-story house with only one bathroom. It's upstairs; the kitchen is downstairs. I couldn't have my mother waiting on me in case I wasn't up to using the stairs for any length of time so, I stocked up on low-carb cereral, cereal bars, peanut butter (and I don't remember what else) and put them in my bedroom.

I also did all, all, my laundry so I wouldn't have to worry about that for a while. I made sure I had plenty of comfy pajamas and other clothes that wouldn't rub against my incision (six-inch bikini cut). I even bought a pair of nurse's scrubs because they looked comfortable.

Another thing I did was buy a new set of sheets for my bed that I knew would never be stained because of flooding or unexpected periods.

On the Saturday before my surgery I got the worst period of my entire life, no exaggeration. As a Hyster Sister told me when I posted about that: “Sounds as if Aunt Flo found out about her eviction notice and wasn't happy about it.” How can you not LOL at that? Because I wasn't allowed to take anything besides Tylenol five days prior to surgery, I had to suffer. Tylenol does absolutely nothing for me. I was actually crying and doubled over in pain. Any doubts I had about going through with the surgery were taken away. It was as if it was a sign from above telling me I was doing the right thing.

On that day, my mother said one of the nicest things she's ever said to me: “I wish I could give you a hug big enough to make it all go away.” I wished that, too.

Post #24

About 2 weeks before the surgery, I developed a monster case of bronchitis. I was so afraid the surgery would have to be postponed. I'd managed to come to terms with all of it and the last thing I needed was to wait any longer. But, the morning of my pre-op appointment, May 6, I was fine. Weird.

Because of Hyster Sisters, I knew what to expect during the pre-op appointment. The nurse who asked me all the questions even commented on the fact that this was one of the fastest, easiest pre-op appointments she'd ever done. After the questions and tests, it was time to go to the doctor's office again to sign some papers and talk a little more.

It was one of the coolest doctor's appointments I'd ever had. We talked more about personal, non-medical stuff, than we did about the surgery. It was wonderful, and made me like my doctor even more.

But, I did have to sign some forms and releases. The hardest to sign was the one that said I understood the surgery would leave me “permanently unable to bear children.” Although I had decided years ago not to have children, the finality of it all was kind of hard to digest. I signed anyway, though.

The doctor left the room when I was reading the forms and signing everything. The forms I needed to sign were in my file, which he handed me as he left. I guess he didn't count on me readinig and signing so quickly because I had plenty of time to look through my file. I'm over being pissed about this now but, when I read that in 1999 I had an “inflamed uterus” I was furious. Why wasn't anything done about it then?!

Post #23

The doctor said he would give me some time to think about it, then I needed to come back with my mother, or sister, or someone, so we could talk about it some more. By the time that appointment rolled around, I had already decided to do it. If it was going to make all the pain and everything else go away, do it.

Although I was ready to have it done, I was still hoping I wouldn't have to have a total abdominal hysterectomy (TAH). I was scared to death of having surgery. I mean, I hadn't even been a patient in a hospital since I was 8 years old. But, after I told him I wanted the surgery, he did an exam to see if it could be done vaginally. Because I had never given birth, I knew that was only a remote possibility. When I saw the look on his face I said, “No chance?” He said, “No chance at all.”

When we went out to the receptionist to schedule the surgery, she asked him when he wanted it done. He said, “As soon as possible.” That kind of surprised me because I know of women who have waited months to have it done. “As soon as possible” for me ended up being three weeks, May 12. I later learned the reason for that is the tumors were growing rapidly. Actually, I knew that. I could feel it. But hearing it was a bit of a surprise.

Post #22

I've had a few ultrasounds for gastro-intestinal problems (which I now believe were uterus-related) so I thought I knew what to expect. I have no idea why the thought never crossed my mind that it would be an internal ultrasound. Yikes! But at least I did the gynecologist shave and shower so I wasn't embarrassed (Well, any more than usual when going to the GYN). The doctor kept apologizing for hurting me. I kept telling him it wasn't bad. When he apologized again I said “It's not all that uncomfortable but I'll wince and whine if it'll make you feel better.” We were definitely in need of a light moment. Anyway, he told me the reason he was poking and prodding so much is that he was looking for my ovaries and that it was good thing that he was having trouble finding them. It meant they weren't enlarged and were probably fine. (Turns out there was no “probably.” They were, and are, fine, albeit a little slow in learning that I don't have a uterus anymore.)

The one and only thing that bothered me about this doctor is that, during the ultrasound, before he told me exactly what the problem was, he pointed to the screen and showed Molly where all the tumors were. I'm just glad I did my 'net research so I knew what to expect before he told me.

When the ultrasound was over, he told me I had five tumors. In non-medical terms, they were the size of golf balls. He showed me the ultrasound and pointed to them, showing me the difference between my uterus and the tumors. After discussing this for a while, he told me a hysterectomy would be the best option.

Although I knew this was a possibility, I wasn't quite ready to hear it.

Post #21

The couple of times I told my mother I felt my abdomen getting harder, I'm not really sure if she didn't believe me or if she was afraid to think the worst. Right now, I'm going to believe the latter. Anyway, I was still in a bit of a state of shock when I got home and told her I had an enlarged uterus. I think that put her in a state of shock as well.

When the shock started wearing off, I did what I usually do when I need “more input,” in the infamous words of Johnny 5 from “Short Circuit.” I turned to the Internet. What I learned is that the most common reason for an enlarged uterus is fibroid tumors. Thankfully, I also learned that these tumors are rarely malignant.

I did as much research as my brain would allow and learned as much as I could about fibroids. I learned about all the treatment options, one of which was a hysterectomy, although I didn't think it would come to that. I thought an in-office procedure might take care of it.

During my research, I discovered the best site on the Internet: Hyster Sisters. If you're looking at the possibility of a hysterectomy, or have had one and have questions, I highly recommend this site!

Post #20

I finally did suck it up and make the appointment for March 31. While Molly the nurse was taking my history, she asked if I was having any problems. I told her everything. Everything. She told me (despite what I'd heard) the doctor was very nice, so I should tell him everything I just told her. I was still skeptical but, I told him anyway. Then I joked, “Could it possibly be happening because I'm 44?” He and Molly both laughed. He said it's possible and then, because he's also 44, we joked a little about how it sucks to get older. During the exam, he kept saying “I'm sorry. I know that hurts.” Big change from the previous doctor who said “If you'd come here more often, it wouldn't hurt as bad.” (By the way, I just remembered that as I was typing this.) When the doctor stood up, and I noticed the look on his face, I could tell the joking was over. He pressed down on my abdomen and sighed. Then he said “You have an enlarged uterus.” He told me we'd schedule an ultrasound to see what was causing that, then we'd take care of it.

As you can imagine, my mind started racing in all kinds of directions.

Post #19

Now I had to decide if I wanted to go to one of the doctors other women had suggested, or if I wanted to wait for the replacement doctor. Illogically, or so it would seem, I decided to wait.

After the replacement doctor got here, I'd heard from two women who didn't like him very much, mainly because he didn't take enough time with them during the exams. After everything I'd been through, and not knowing what was going on with my protruding, hardening abdomen, the last thing I needed was a doctor who wasn't going to take the time with me I needed. So, I tried to make an appointment with another doctor. But when I called, I was told that this doctor's office had an arrangement with the hospital that all of the deceased doctor's patients have to go to the new guy at least once before switching. Great. I'd finally “sucked it up” enough to make an appointment and now I couldn't even go to the doctor I wanted to go to.

This will make sense later (I hope) but I know other women who were not given the “you have to go to the new guy” line. In hindsight, I'm very glad I was.

Post #18

Although I knew something was wrong, I was still reluctant to go to the GYN. Besides everything else, I was afraid I might have cancer. I think, logically, I knew I didn't. Although I felt awful, I kept telling myself that I'd be sicker if it was cancer. But I needed to wrap my brain around the possibility. I put it off for a little while longer, until on a Friday morning I was hit with a major flood and cramps to match. I promised myself I'd make a GYN appointment first thing Monday morning.

Well, I couldn't do that because that's the day we learned my gynecologist died suddenly and unexpectedly.

Post #17

You'll be happy to know that we're one-third of the way through this and the disgusting bodily function posts are almost over. (Hallelujah, right?)

Because of work, my second book coming out (and all that's entailed), NaNoWriMo, the holidays and my mother being hospitalized and needing a lot of care afterward, I didn't make the appointment. Besides, I was still shopping for a new GYN and none of the prospects seemed promising. I kept telling myself the reason I was so tired is that I wasn't getting enough rest. All I wanted to do was sleep but, it seemed I could never get enough. I was too tired to exercise regularly, too, unless I forced myself and made little deals with myself. (You can sleep in for an hour tomorrow if you walk a mile today.) I had been walking 5 miles a day but I was at a point where I couldn't even think about walking around the block. That, and holiday eating, were my excuses for gaining weight and my jeans starting to not fit quite right in the abdomen, although they were fine everywhere else. As I look back, I realize holiday eating had nothing to do with it. I'd have a couple of cookies every now and then but nothing that would cause the kind of weight I was gaining, especially because, even though I was tired, on days I ate cookies, I'd force myself to at least do a tae-bo workout.

One would think my New Year's resolution would be to finally make an appointment with a GYN, any GYN. But no. My resolution was to loose 15 pounds before making the appointment. I didn't want weight to be an issue with the doctor. So, I stuck to my diet religiously and forced myself to exercise everyday. My weight stayed the same but my jeans were getting tighter. On some days, I even had to wear a size larger than I had been wearing.

The flooding was also getting worse. I was wearing an “overnight” pad and “super” tampon at the same time and going through both of them in about an hour for about six hours. It's a miracle that I didn't end up hospitalized instead of just anemic. On days it wasn't so bad (ha!), I'd carry an entire box of tampons to work with me and go through them in 8 hours.

Then, one day in late January, I noticed my abdomen was hard. I realized it wasn't fat that was making my jeans tighter. Something was definitely wrong.

Post #16

When I first started remembering all of this, I thought the problems started getting out of hand in October. But as I was reading through my blog archives to see the first time I posted about gynecological problems since I'd been back in Pennsylvania, I realized it was September. I don't remember exactly what happened to make me write this but, I said I should “suck it up and make an appointment with the gynecologist.” Also in September, I wrote about how frustrated I was that I'd have my period for two days, then nothing for two days, then one day on, one day off, etc.

The reason I remember October being so bad is that I was doing some behind-the-scenes stuff for a community theater group at the time. I said I would go in early to help paint sets. I ended up being late because after I'd gotten dressed and was ready to go, I had a flooding incident and had to change my clothes. I got cleaned up and was on my way to the theater. When I got there, I had another incident so I went home and got cleaned up again. When I finally got into the theater, I explained to the director that I was having gynecological problems and that my regular doctor told me I should see my GYN. This woman, who has had more than her share of medical problems, said if this doctor tells you to see your GYN, you need to see your GYN.

But did I listen? Of course not.

Post #15

When I went back to the doctor in August, he was happy to see that I'd lost more weight and my cholesterol was fine. He asked if I'd made an appointment with my GYN. When I said I hadn't, he asked again about my periods. I told him again, and told him it seemed to be getting worse. I also asked him if the problems could be age-related. He said that was a possibility but I should really see my GYN.

I was reluctant to make a GYN appointment because, it seemed he didn't take me seriously before. Why would he now? So, I began asking other women about their gynecologists and, basically, shopping for a new one.

Post #14

Despite all the good things that happened in California, one bad thing happened. I gained more than 100 pounds. I was overweight when I left so, in January 2003, after I'd moved back to Pennsylvania and forced myself to step on a scale, I learned that I was about 150 pounds overweight. Yikes! You see, my life was so depressing when I moved that I thought all I wanted was to play on the Internet (my job was 'net-related, too), watch movies and eat fast food all day. You know the old saying “Be careful what you wish for ...?” Well. Yeah. Anyway, that's why I didn't go to a doctor with my gynecological problems. I was afraid a doctor would tell me to loose 100 pounds and everything would be fine. So, I put myself on a strict diet and exercise program and, by the time I went to see my general practioner in May 2004 I had lost more than 100 pounds. Eventually, I lost 125. (More on the weight frustration later.) The doctor told me my cholesterol was a little high but, with diet and exercise it could be brought down. He also asked me about my periods. When I told him they had gotten more irregular and I was passing a lot of clots, he asked me when my last GYN visit was. When I told him, he said I should at least make an appointment for a Pap test. Then he told me to come back in August so he could check my cholesterol again.

Post #13

Although the “spotting” incident lasted for only one day, in September, October and December I had full-length periods every two weeks. Looking back, I know I was kind of stupid for not going to the doctor. But I had a valid reason. At least in my mind it was a valid reason.

Post #12

Although my periods weren't regular, at least I only had them once a month and, for the most part they lasted about a week. There were a few times they'd go as long as 10 days, though. All that changed in July 2002. I had to come back to Pennsylvania because my mom was hospitalized and would need someone to help her when she got home. I had a period right before I left California so I was grateful that I wouldn't have to deal with that for a few weeks. But, as I was sitting on my mom's front porch one night, two weeks after my period ended, I felt a gush. At first, I thought it was my imagination. Then it happened again and I knew it was real. Because I'd read so much about perimenopause and knew one of the symptoms was spotting between periods, that's what I told myself it was. I refused to tell myself that saturating an “overnight” pad every hour for three hours is not spotting. I also told myself it happened because of the stress I felt from my mom's illness and the cross-country bus trip.

I'm really dumb sometimes. ;)

Post #11

I started taking Remifemin to relieve the perimenopausal symptoms. It helped alleviate the night sweats and hot flashes but, the strange-looking, painful and irregular periods remained. That's about the time I started taking at least ... at least ... 1,000 mgs of ibuprofen almost every day for pain. That's not 1 tablet every few hours. That's 5 200 mg tablets at a time. Sometimes, that wasn't even enough. That's also the time the bleeding was so heavy that I started not just leaking, but flooding. That's when I started wearing two “overnight” pads at the same time whenever I needed to go out. I was reluctant to leave the house on days I had my period for fear of flooding and ruining the car seat or a movie theater seat, not to mention the embarrassment that would have ensued. On flooding days, it was always worse when I stood up. Everything would seem fine while I was sitting but, the second I stood up, I'd feel a gush. Luckily, Shell understood what I was going through and would always check me from behind to see if everything was OK. Most of the time it was, and I had just soaked through the pads and my underwear and not my shorts, or whatever outerwear I had on. But, once it wasn't OK. In the dark movie theater it wasn't so bad. The problem was that we had to walk about half a mile in bright sunlight from the theater to the car. That incident is probably one of the reasons “The Phantom Menace” is my least favorite Star Wars movie. ;)

Post #10

When I was in California, I began developing other problems: night sweats, hot flashes, insomnia. Also, the blood started looking strange. It wasn't always red. In fact, on the first day, it was always brownish spotting. I also started passing clots, some as big as plums. I know other women pass bigger clots but, a plum is still a pretty darn big thing to be coming out of ya. The insomnia is what led me to believe I was starting perimenopause. I would go to bed at 11 p.m. then wake up at 1:50 a.m. and not be able to get back to sleep. During one extremely frustrating early morning, I got on the Internet and did a search for my symptoms. I came across a message board on which women were discussing their symptoms, many of which I had. Because the discussion centered on menopause and perimenopause, I believed that's what was causing my problems as well. It's silly now to think that's what I thought, considering I'd been having these problems since I was teen-ager. But, hey, I was just looking for answers and, because of how much I was suffering, I wasn't really thinking straight.

Post #9

Before I get into the next post, I have to say I'm having a great time over at Caryn's. I knew all that movie trivia stuck in my head would come in handy someday.

Anyway, onto Anne's Whinefest: (No, I'm not whining even if it seems as if I am. I'm just trying to open people's eyes, as I said ... Oh man! Was it really only 4 hours ago? OK. Only 20 hours to go. I can do this.)

Besides all the “female problems,” there were a lot of other things in my life that weren't working well in 2000-2001. But just when I thought I was at the end of my rope, I got an opportunity to move from Pennsylvania to California. I took it. When I got there, I learned that Shell, one of the people I lived with, had the same problems I was having. Finally! I found someone who understood. She had given up on gynecologists as well, so we pretty much just suffered together, grateful that we at least had someone to talk to about it.

Post #8

A year later, I was still having the same problems, although they had gotten even worse. Still, no solution from the doctor. I decided I wasn't going to go see another gynecologist unless it was in the emergency room. Maybe then, I thought, someone would take me seriously.

This is about the time the flow started getting so heavy that I started leaking at inopportune times. As if there is an opportune time for it. Anyway, I remember one time at work knowing that I had leaked and hoping that it didn't spill out onto my chair. When it was time for me to leave for my dinner break, I developed a manuever to make my way to the restroom without anyone being able to see the back of my skirt ... at least I hoped no one would see it. In the restroom, I learned that I did, in fact, leak and there was a big spot on the back of my light blue denim skirt. When I got home, instead of eating dinner, I washed the spot out and put the skirt in the dryer so I could wear it when I went back to work. I thought that if I wore the same skirt, and anyone had seen the spot, they might think it was their imagination.

I remember saying several times over the years when it started getting bad, “If I'm not going to have children, why can't I have a hysterectomy and get this over with?”

I was sick of not having any “good” underwear. I was sick of not having any “good” sheets. I was sick of all of it.

Post #7

Although I was still having problems, and the heavy bleeding and cramps were getting worse, the only reason I went to the gynecologist was for a Pap smear. I was 39 and knew I'd gone way too long without one. At first, I was encouraged when the doctor asked if I was having problems. I was discouraged again when his answer to my cramps was more Pamprin. I was already going through at least one bottle for the first two days of my periods. How much more was I supposed to take?

As for the heavy bleeding, even I didn't realize exactly how bad it was until years later when I did some research. I learned that 6 teaspoons a month is normal. Six teaspoons a month? Puh-leez! If I had only 6 teaspoons a day I would have been overjoyed. And, if no one's taking you seriously, what are you supposed to do to explain it? Show them pads and tampons? Yuck!

Post #6

I was 25 the first time I went to a gynecologist, although, in hindsight I know I should have gone sooner. Then again, it took 19 years as it was. If I'd gone sooner, it just might have meant more years of frustration. Anyway, the doctor put me on The Pill. It was supposed to regulate my periods and ease the cramps. It worked for a while but, then everything got back to what was normal for me. The last time I saw that doctor was in 1987. I didn't go to another gynecologist until 1999. I figured, if I'm not going to be taken seriously, why should bother?

Post #5

Through four years of college, the only thing I learned about women and their periods is that women who spend a lot of time together get “synchronized.” Because all my friends and I had our periods at about the same time, I began to think I was being a crybaby because none of them seemed to be experiencing anything close to what I was.

Post #4

As if high school wasn't bad enough, I had to deal with increasingly worse periods. I'm pretty sure that any of my classmates who were paying attention knew exactly when I had my period. Several times, I spent at least one class period in the nurse's office with a period-related migraine. While, during the rest of the month, I only used the restroom once or twice a day, during that time of the month, I needed to go every couple of hours. Many times, I even begged my mother to let me stay home from school because the cramps and other symptoms were unbearable. One day when she wouldn't let me stay home, I almost fainted during an English class. Instead, I put my head down on my desk and forced myself not to cry. A nun, trying to be helpful, gave me a couple of vitamin pills. I appreciated the thought but, it didn't help. It also didn't help that my classmates now thought Sister So-and-So was dealing drugs. ;)

During this time, I asked my mother if I could take Midol or Pamprin. She couldn't believe or understand that aspirin, Tylenol or Bufferin just weren't working, so she wouldn't buy it for me. I used my allowance and babysitting money to buy it because I needed some relief. Although it helped slightly more than other pain relievers, I was really never pain-free. I think my mother truly believed that I was a hypochondriac or that I was looking for attention. I know she didn't believe everything was as bad as I said it was.

As I got ready to go away to college, I hoped that I would find someone else who was experiencing the same things I was.

Post #3

Let's start at the beginning. From the very first day of my very first period I had problems. Remember the movies they showed in school letting the girls know what to expect as they “blossomed into womanhood?” So, of course I had heard about cramps and was expecting them. But no one ever told me just how painful they would be. I was also told they only last for the first few hours of the first day. I can probably count on my fingers, and not use all of them, how many times in 33 years I had cramps only for a few hours and, for that matter, only on the first day. No one ever told me the pain would be so bad I'd be nauseated and, many times, have to vomit for hours because of it. No one told me about the migraines and the weakness in my legs so bad that I had trouble going up and down stairs.

I had complained ... OK. Let's be honest. I whined to my mother about how bad I felt. Her reply was always something along the lines of “You have to give your body time to adjust and regulate.”

It never did. I think 33 years was long enough to wait, don't you?

Post #2

I've heard that some people think women who have hysterectomies for reasons other than cancer are making a “lifestyle choice.” I think these people are confused. There is a difference between “lifestyle” and “quality of life.” A lifestyle choice, in my opinion, would be botox injections or liposuction. Quality of life means you don't want to live with pain, exhaustion and heavy bleeding anymore.

Forty-six posts from now (if my brain is still working by then), I hope you'll understand what I mean.

Let the 'thon begin!

During the next 24 hours I'll be writing about my hysterectomy, the experiences leading up to it and my continuing recovery. In a way, I'm lucky that the reason for my hysterectomy was fibroid tumors, not cancer. However, the reason for the surgery doesn't make the experience any less traumatic. Granted, there's one less concern leading up to the procedure and fewer concerns afterward but, it's still major surgery and a life-altering event. Please don't think the next 24 hours here will be a downer. I will attempt to add some humor into as many posts as possible because, believe me, there is some funny stuff that happened.


For the record, although I had a total abdominal hysterectomy on May 12, 2005, and I'm very happy that I did, I am neither pro- nor anti-hysterectomy. I'm in favor of women getting as much information as they can before making an informed choice. I hope, in some small way, this will help someone do that. I'm not anti-doctor either. I liked all my doctors through the years. The point of writing about my experiences with them is that I should have taken control and forced them to treat me for a problem that was obviously bigger than they believed it was.

The reason I'm doing the Blogathon, despite that fact that I'm still early enough in recovery that I should be taking it easy, is that I believe it's not only women with problems who need to learn more about the surgery, the recovery process and the reasons for it. I'm writing this for

Men. I'm hoping that men who read this may get a better understanding of how their wives, daughters, mothers, sisters, aunts, teachers, girlfriends, co-workers, classmates are feeling and what they're going through. It may be easier to “hear” coming from a stranger than from someone you're in contact with regularly. I'm sure many of you have brushed off the problems of the women in your lives as “that time of the month” or “a female thing.” While it is a female thing, that doesn't make it irrelevant and, therefore, something to not take seriously. If one man learns something from this and gives one woman in his life the compassion and understanding she needs, it'll be worth it.

Women With No 'Female Problems' First of all, consider yourselves lucky. I hope that doesn't sound snippy. It's not meant to be. It's written with all sincerity because, from what I've learned over the past several months, women with no problems are the lucky ones and don't realize how good they have it. I believe that's why they tend to minimize the problems the rest of us have been dealing with for years, decades in some cases. If you don't have to carry a box of tampons with you everywhere you go everyday; if you don't have to worry about when you're going to have an 'accident'; if you've never had cramps so bad that you're bedridden you need to read this. There are women out there who are in agony more days than not every single month. It affects every aspect of their lives. They're not whiners or big babies. They have real, physical ailments that won't just “go away.” If even one woman treats another woman with respect and compassion instead of writing her off as a complainer, it'll be worth it.

Women Who Are Suffering from 'Female Problems'. They need to know they're not alone and what they're feeling is real. I suffered from the day I got my first period when I was 12 years old. It took 33 years to find someone who took me seriously. Thank God he was a doctor who found and treated the problem and didn't just try to mask the symptoms. If one woman who is suffering finds the courage to empower herself and make someone to listen to her, it'll be worth it.

Doctors and Other Healthcare Workers. From what I've learned in the past few months (and from my own experience), I know that it takes many doctors several years to take a patient seriously when she says she's experiencing pain, irregular periods, migraines, exhaustion and many other symptoms. I know it's especially common for women who are in their 40s to be told everything is just part of “getting older.” This, despite the fact the problems have been plaguing them for years. I also realize doctors and health care workers have to deal with hypochondriacs and complainers every day and it can be difficult to determine which problems are real and which aren't'. If even one doctor takes one woman seriously and gives her the benefit of the doubt, it'll be worth it.

Vote ... or Sponsor Me ... or Both

Even if you've never, ever watched an episode of "Big Brother," could you please go here and vote for Kaysar? Please? The game just won't be the same without him, and I'd love to see him get back into the house. Besides, a vote for Kaysar is a vote against "The Dark Side."

But if you can't bring yourself to do that, how 'bout sponsoring me for Blogathon? After you register, go here to do it. You'll feel so good if you do. I promise.

And big, big thanks to the people who've already made pledges. I really appreciate your support!

Perfect

For weeks, months actually, I've been trying to put some of my thoughts about blogging into words but I've been having trouble getting them just right. After hearing this song again on the radio I realized why I couldn't say exactly what I wanted to say the way I wanted to say it: Anna Nalick already did it to perfection.


If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to

Teachers

I'm sure everyone knows that teachers can have a huge impact ... both negative and postive ... on their students. From kindergarten through grade 12 I can remember only 5 who had a negative impact on me. Three(two in grade school, one in high school) taught me that, no matter what I did, someone else would always be better. Another, in high school, taught me that girls would never be as good as boys when it comes to math. I still have an aversion to numbers. The fifth, in grade school, was just plain mean and I still feel the affect she had on me. The reason I'm writing this is that I just had a flashback of her, and an incident in her classroom.

A little while ago, I was talking to someone in a different room. I had to repeat myself twice. Then, he said in a sing-songy voice "I can't hear you." I repeated what I said at the same time I had the flashback.

When I was a kid, I was painfully shy, even more than I am now. Because of my shyness, and my long-standing self-esteem issues, I spoke very quiety, almost in a whisper sometimes. One day in school I was trying to get the attention of my friend, which of course I shouldn't have been doing. My friend didn't hear me, so I whispered louder. She still didn't hear me, so I whispered louder still. Then the teacher said "Ann (it was before I added the "e."), we can't hear you when you're called on to answer a question but, we sure can hear you when you want to talk to Sue when you're not supposed to." Kids being kids, everyone (except my 3 best friends) cracked up at this. I was devastated. The only thing that kept me from crying was the fact that I knew crying about it would make everyone laugh more. I understand that I needed to be reprimanded but, was embarrassing a painfully shy third-grader in front of the entire class in the best interests of the child?

That incident did nothing for my shyness, believe me. In fact, it made me even more reluctant to participate in class for years to come. Standing in front of the class to speak? Forget it! I was a basket case. I was a junior in high school before I even started to get over that. Even then, it wasn't easy. If it wasn't for The Best Friend having confidence in me and pushing me to reach my potential, I'd probably still be a basket case when I had to talk in front of people. I'm not all that confident now but, at least I can do it.

It amazes me that nearly 40 years later I can still picture that incident as if it happened yesterday. There are good and bad people in every profession and, for the most part, I think teachers are good people. But I do think it's sad that the bad ones can leave such a long-standing impression.

TV-related

Sometimes I forget how much I like Seinfeld. I think that's because at the times it's on here I'm usually either doing something else or watching something else. But last night I caught one of my favorite episodes and found myself literally laughing out loud. It was the one where the valet contaminates Jerry's car with his BO and Jerry can't get the smell out. The smell permeates into Jerry's clothes, Elaine's hair. It's so bad that Jerry believes the smell has taken on a life of its own. If I had a pen handy at the time I would have written down some of the best lines. Then again, pretty much the entire show was hilarious.

Now that I've grossed you out by making you think of gaggingly bad BO, let's move onto something food-related. I just learned that there are groups of people who hate ... despise, actually ... Rachael Ray of "30 Minute Meals" and other Food Network shows. I mean, these people really, really hate her. And not just the way she cooks or what she cooks. They hate the way she looks, talks, laughs, walks, dresses, tastes her food, shops, chops. Everything, I'm tellin' ya. There are blogs dedicated to hating Rachael. There are "I Hate Rachael Ray" Web sites comparing her to Hitler. C'mon people. Get a freakin' grip here! One of the oddest things about this whole "I hate Rachael Ray" phenomenon is that many of these people watch her every day! And they don't just watch the cooking show. They watch "$40 a Day" and her specials, too.

I'm not an Emeril fan. I don't watch him. Simple.