One of my favorite bloggers is the PastaQueen, otherwise known as Jennette Fulda. If you haven't read the PastaQueen blog (www.pastaqueen.com), I order you to do so right away. Funny writer, great posts, and she designs web sites, too. If I ever get more than 3 people to admit that they follow my blog, I'm going to hire her to design a site for me.
Jennette's second book came out today, but let me start with her first book titled Half-Assed: A Weight Loss Memoir. The woman lost close to 200 pounds, half her weight. Her memoir about accomplishing this feat is heartwarming, laugh-out-loud funny, and sometimes just sadly real. She can truly weave a story and her story is nothing short of amazing.
Her second book is Chocolate & Vicodin: My Quest for Relief from the Headache that Wouldn't Go Away. My copy is on its way from Amazon.com, so I can't really tell you how good it is (although I know it's going to be good because her first book was so good). But if you look at Amazon's product description for this book on their website, it says:
"Jennette Fulda went to bed on February 17, 2008, with a headache, and more than three years later, it still hasn’t gone away. Yes, she’s tried everything: intravenous drugs, chiropractic adjustments, acupuncture, subliminal messaging, marijuana (for medical purposes only), heavy drinking (which just made it hurt more), and lots and lots of chocolate. A pint of ice cream makes her feel better, but her insurance doesn’t cover mint chocolate chip.
In this painfully honest, smart, and funny memoir, the popular PastaQueen.com blogger who chronicled her nearly two hundred pound weight loss in Half-Assed shares her incredible journey to find relief from a chronic headache. As she visits countless doctors, indulges all manner of unsolicited advice from the Internet, and investigates every possible cause, from a brain tumor to a dead twin living in her brain, Jennette considers what it means to suffer, how to live with pain, and why the best treatment might be the simplest: laughter."
Like I said, I ordered my copy from Amazon. The price was terrific, even with paying the shipping cost. But wherever you prefer to shop, do yourself a favor and treat yourself to both of Jennette's books. You won't be disappointed. And if you want to thank me after reading them, chocolate and vicodin sounds good to me!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Ramblings and random thoughts.....
This is how I looked when I saw the light layer of snow on the roof of our house this morning.
My friends say, "It's just snowflakes!" My brother Steve says, "It's February. Snow is not out of the question." Fortunately, since he's family, I can slap the snot out of him the next time I see him. I can't help it. I have finally reached that age where I can't deal with the snow, cold, and ice anymore. I want the sun to shine every day and temps in the low 70's. If friends and family haven't reached this point yet, it's not my fault that they're behind in their development. :-)
I do my best thinking in the bathroom. I never eat in the bathroom. I once worked with a woman who would take fruit and a book with her into the stall in the ladies' room. That just creeped me out. The book is fine. If you know you're going to be a while and need something to do besides making dolls out of the toilet paper, a book is a good thing to have. But food? You've got to draw the line somewhere. That just ain't right. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. I do my best thinking in the bathroom. Whether taking a shower or parked on the throne, I have some of my deepest and clearest thoughts in the john.
So last Thursday, I was settled all comfy-cozy in the stall in the ladies' restroom at work. I was just sitting there, minding my own business, bouncing on the seat, immersed in thought----now wait a minute. Don't go telling me you all have never done the seat bounce. I know better. And I can tell you from experience that if you have IBS, you're for sure bouncing a lot more than you're admitting. Sooooo, someone comes in, takes a perch, does her business, and heads over to the sink counter to wash her hands. I'm already giving her 5 points for flushing (you'd be surprised how many women don't remember to flush) and about to award her with 10 more points for washing her germy hands.....when she did it. Instead of getting those fingerlets soaped up and clean right away, she grabs the paper towel container handle first and unloads a long sheet of paper towel. I don't care how much paper towel she uses. My brain is screaming because she slimed her potty germies all over the paper towel machine handle BEFORE she washed her hands. YUCK! I immediately bounced a few more times out of frustration and then took away every point I had given her.
As I said, I do my best thinking in the bathroom. And what I realized last Thursday, just after I pictured myself disinfecting the paper towel machine with a flamethrower, is that I just don't care. All right, I do care about getting a diagnosis sometime during my lifetime. But using the BiPAP machine, losing weight, exercising, eating right----I don't give a flying rat's whiskers. "BT" ("Before Therapy"), I would have not cared because I believed that I wasn't worth the caring about. That was before "BT". I know better these days. But now, after "MHH" ("My Heart Hurts"), I truly don't care. I watched as my sister died and then my mom died just 10 months later, and now I think, what's the point? It doesn't matter, all this stuff. Lose the weight, exercise, eat right, get your sleep, take your vitamins, eat those Omega-3's------it just doesn't matter. We're still going to die. I know. Someone is thinking, don't you have anything to live for? Don't you want to be at your little nieces' and nephew's college graduations? If I can do that, it would be great. But if I die before it happens, I won't know anyway. I'll be dead. I won't know what I'm missing. I know it sounds silly and I'm not expressing it well. I have more thinking to do. But for right now, I really don't care. Folks will probably get on my case about it all. I have only one thing to say about that. DON'T. Some things you just have to work through on your own.
I don't know why I don't weigh less than I do. I really don't eat gobs and gobs of food. I don't exercise much, I know, but between the butt bouncing, leg jiggling, teeth grinding, lip chewing (that takes more muscles than you realize), keeping time with the music, and all the body tics I've got going all day long, you'd think I'd be a lot thinner. Which brings me to Dr. Evil. I see her on Thursday morning, at which time she will note that I have obviously not lost any weight like she told me to start doing six months ago. In the meantime, she has been dieting and I'm betting that she is down to my size now and probably less. I'm pretty sure that I'm going to need 3 hash browns and a cinnamon melt from McDonald's after my appointment to comfort me after she gets through with me. Of course, I'll wash all that down with a Diet Coke!
I do my best thinking in the bathroom. I never eat in the bathroom. I once worked with a woman who would take fruit and a book with her into the stall in the ladies' room. That just creeped me out. The book is fine. If you know you're going to be a while and need something to do besides making dolls out of the toilet paper, a book is a good thing to have. But food? You've got to draw the line somewhere. That just ain't right. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. I do my best thinking in the bathroom. Whether taking a shower or parked on the throne, I have some of my deepest and clearest thoughts in the john.
So last Thursday, I was settled all comfy-cozy in the stall in the ladies' restroom at work. I was just sitting there, minding my own business, bouncing on the seat, immersed in thought----now wait a minute. Don't go telling me you all have never done the seat bounce. I know better. And I can tell you from experience that if you have IBS, you're for sure bouncing a lot more than you're admitting. Sooooo, someone comes in, takes a perch, does her business, and heads over to the sink counter to wash her hands. I'm already giving her 5 points for flushing (you'd be surprised how many women don't remember to flush) and about to award her with 10 more points for washing her germy hands.....when she did it. Instead of getting those fingerlets soaped up and clean right away, she grabs the paper towel container handle first and unloads a long sheet of paper towel. I don't care how much paper towel she uses. My brain is screaming because she slimed her potty germies all over the paper towel machine handle BEFORE she washed her hands. YUCK! I immediately bounced a few more times out of frustration and then took away every point I had given her.
As I said, I do my best thinking in the bathroom. And what I realized last Thursday, just after I pictured myself disinfecting the paper towel machine with a flamethrower, is that I just don't care. All right, I do care about getting a diagnosis sometime during my lifetime. But using the BiPAP machine, losing weight, exercising, eating right----I don't give a flying rat's whiskers. "BT" ("Before Therapy"), I would have not cared because I believed that I wasn't worth the caring about. That was before "BT". I know better these days. But now, after "MHH" ("My Heart Hurts"), I truly don't care. I watched as my sister died and then my mom died just 10 months later, and now I think, what's the point? It doesn't matter, all this stuff. Lose the weight, exercise, eat right, get your sleep, take your vitamins, eat those Omega-3's------it just doesn't matter. We're still going to die. I know. Someone is thinking, don't you have anything to live for? Don't you want to be at your little nieces' and nephew's college graduations? If I can do that, it would be great. But if I die before it happens, I won't know anyway. I'll be dead. I won't know what I'm missing. I know it sounds silly and I'm not expressing it well. I have more thinking to do. But for right now, I really don't care. Folks will probably get on my case about it all. I have only one thing to say about that. DON'T. Some things you just have to work through on your own.
I don't know why I don't weigh less than I do. I really don't eat gobs and gobs of food. I don't exercise much, I know, but between the butt bouncing, leg jiggling, teeth grinding, lip chewing (that takes more muscles than you realize), keeping time with the music, and all the body tics I've got going all day long, you'd think I'd be a lot thinner. Which brings me to Dr. Evil. I see her on Thursday morning, at which time she will note that I have obviously not lost any weight like she told me to start doing six months ago. In the meantime, she has been dieting and I'm betting that she is down to my size now and probably less. I'm pretty sure that I'm going to need 3 hash browns and a cinnamon melt from McDonald's after my appointment to comfort me after she gets through with me. Of course, I'll wash all that down with a Diet Coke!
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
So I got my test results......
…..and they are Negative and Negative. I don’t have Celiac Disease. There are no tumors on my parotid glands. I’m a mix of being grateful that nothing bad was found and being upset because we still don’t have a diagnosis after almost 10 months of testing. The afternoon I got the results, I took the rest of the day to be verklempt and grumpy and feel sorry for myself. The next morning, I sucked it up and started being strong again. But I must admit, this is really wearing on me.
As long as I’m admitting things, I haven’t used my Bi-PAP mask and machine for at least 2 months, maybe longer. I just can’t stand the thought of having that thing on my face. It’s too confining and I’m a little too claustrophobic. Not that I need to explain it. The picture says it all.
There, that's better!
Is anyone else hearing tree limbs cracking off and dropping onto their roofs? It's happened 3 times here in the past 15 minutes. We had the lovely ice coating everything except our driveway this morning, so I had to show up at work. I'm grateful to have a job, really. It just would have been nice to work from home in my jammies today. But I've been going outside to check the roof and our driveway is now coated with a shiny sheet of ice. And tomorrow I want to go to work because it's Skyline day. I can't miss lunch at Skyline!
Well, obviously, I have nothing interesting to write about, so I'll just sign off like the guys on my favorite show "Wipeout" and hope that the next blog will be much more entertaining.
Good night.....and big balls!
As long as I’m admitting things, I haven’t used my Bi-PAP mask and machine for at least 2 months, maybe longer. I just can’t stand the thought of having that thing on my face. It’s too confining and I’m a little too claustrophobic. Not that I need to explain it. The picture says it all.
I’m just not dealing well with it. Unfortunately, I need to because sleep apnea can kill you. So, once again, I’m going to have to suck it up and be strong.
I’m tired of being strong. And now I'm whiney, too! I think I need to just get over my fine self and put a big smile on my face right now!
There, that's better!
Is anyone else hearing tree limbs cracking off and dropping onto their roofs? It's happened 3 times here in the past 15 minutes. We had the lovely ice coating everything except our driveway this morning, so I had to show up at work. I'm grateful to have a job, really. It just would have been nice to work from home in my jammies today. But I've been going outside to check the roof and our driveway is now coated with a shiny sheet of ice. And tomorrow I want to go to work because it's Skyline day. I can't miss lunch at Skyline!
Well, obviously, I have nothing interesting to write about, so I'll just sign off like the guys on my favorite show "Wipeout" and hope that the next blog will be much more entertaining.
Good night.....and big balls!
Monday, January 17, 2011
Listen to the whining and then you can see the skating foot.....
It must still be Christmas because I’m still eating anything that doesn’t move. On the other hand, Christmas must be over because we finally put away the Christmas decorations last Friday…..Friday, January 14th. I’m starting off the new year a little late, it would seem.
I hope everyone had a fabulous Christmas, being with family, eating the holiday cheese ball, and stepping on the Chex mix. Yep, stepping on it. I always manage to drop a square or two of cereal when I’m making the mix, and I swear that I crunch it under my shoes for 3 months. Where does it hide when everyone else is tromping through the kitchen? It’s only out on the floor when I’m walking on it. I’m starting to get paranoid about it. It’s a conspiracy, I’m sure.
Anyway, I haven’t been blogging because I was working a lot, being poked/prodded/tested a lot, and trying to get ready for the holidays. So what shall we catch up on first? The poking, prodding, and testing? Okay, let ‘er rip!
Since we were last here, I have seen Dr. OhMyAchyBody. We are now up to 44 tubes of blood. The SED rate is still up there among the clouds. And this time we drained some blood for a Celiac Sprue Panel, testing to see whether I have celiac disease. I also had 2 MRI’s, one without contrast dye and then one with contrast dye. I am just claustrophobic enough to be bothered by lying in an MRI machine like a dead body stuffed into a way-too-small coffin. Not only was it very confining (my nose almost touched the ceiling of it), they had my head in this vise thing and strapped every way but loose. I was not amused. The MRI’s were to get the goods on my parotid glands—to see if there was inflammation or a tumor or whatever. Now, I had the blood drawn at Dr. OhMyAchyBody’s office. I said to the nurse, “I’m a little concerned about this particular round of tests. Please have someone call me with the results.” A week or so later, one of the nurses at the office called me about something else, and I asked her, “Please have someone call me about these test results.” At which time she informs me, “We don’t call with results if they don’t show anything.” I told her that I knew that, but these tests were very different from what I had been having and I wanted to be notified about the results. The MRI was on December 14th and I had the blood labs done on December 10th. Have I heard from anyone? NO! OF COURSE NOT! Not that I’m bitter or anything. :-) But how do I know that my test results haven’t just fallen through the cracks or something? So tomorrow, I’m calling them again and using my charm to get the stinkin’ results. I’m fairly certain that I don’t have celiac disease or tumors in my spit glands, but doggonit, I want to know FOR SURE.
So I see my ophthalmologist later this month. Then it’s back to the dentist, Dr. Dracula, and Dr. OhMyAchyBody next month. I also saw a dermatologist earlier this month (Dr. SheKeepsMePretty) and got a good report from her.
I was transferring information from my 2010 planner to my 2011 planner, and I now have 12 doctors—TWELVE—that I see on a regular basis. Isn’t that just a little excessive? Wouldn’t you think that one of them could figure out what’s going wrong with my body? God love ‘em, I shouldn’t say that because they’re all very good and trying very hard. I’m just getting a little tired of all this.
No more whining! Let’s talk about something fun! You all need to see our little Christmas tree. I don’t much like decorating a Christmas tree and I like un-decorating one even less. Also, by the time I do Dad’s tree and decorations, I just don’t want to do another one. But I help put up a small one at home and I always end up being glad when I do. This year, there was something a little different under our tree. Check it out.
Do you see something that doesn't belong there?
Here's a better view.
Yeah, nothing says "It's Christmas!" like a cat butt under the tree! "Butt" to be fair, I should probably let you see the other, more pleasing end of Louise the Wonder Kitty.
Now that I've bored you with pictures, I'm going to bore you with more pictures. But these are worth it. Every year at my Dad's house (and formerly Mom's house, too, rest her soul), we set out the skating rink by the Christmas tree.
It's just a cheap thing that I picked up many years ago to amuse the younger sisters and brothers. Now THEIR kids love playing with it every Christmas. The skaters "skate" because there are magnets on the bottom of their bases that follow a set path that is inserted beneath the pond. I know what you're thinking. "Hmmm, I see two sets of skaters, but what's that lump?" That, my friends, is the skating foot!
Sometime, somehow, the beautiful figure skater doing the figure-8's was separated from her foot, unable to be fixed, buried in the trash can. And now the foot skates all alone, searching and longing for the body it once had.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!
I hope everyone had a fabulous Christmas, being with family, eating the holiday cheese ball, and stepping on the Chex mix. Yep, stepping on it. I always manage to drop a square or two of cereal when I’m making the mix, and I swear that I crunch it under my shoes for 3 months. Where does it hide when everyone else is tromping through the kitchen? It’s only out on the floor when I’m walking on it. I’m starting to get paranoid about it. It’s a conspiracy, I’m sure.
Anyway, I haven’t been blogging because I was working a lot, being poked/prodded/tested a lot, and trying to get ready for the holidays. So what shall we catch up on first? The poking, prodding, and testing? Okay, let ‘er rip!
Since we were last here, I have seen Dr. OhMyAchyBody. We are now up to 44 tubes of blood. The SED rate is still up there among the clouds. And this time we drained some blood for a Celiac Sprue Panel, testing to see whether I have celiac disease. I also had 2 MRI’s, one without contrast dye and then one with contrast dye. I am just claustrophobic enough to be bothered by lying in an MRI machine like a dead body stuffed into a way-too-small coffin. Not only was it very confining (my nose almost touched the ceiling of it), they had my head in this vise thing and strapped every way but loose. I was not amused. The MRI’s were to get the goods on my parotid glands—to see if there was inflammation or a tumor or whatever. Now, I had the blood drawn at Dr. OhMyAchyBody’s office. I said to the nurse, “I’m a little concerned about this particular round of tests. Please have someone call me with the results.” A week or so later, one of the nurses at the office called me about something else, and I asked her, “Please have someone call me about these test results.” At which time she informs me, “We don’t call with results if they don’t show anything.” I told her that I knew that, but these tests were very different from what I had been having and I wanted to be notified about the results. The MRI was on December 14th and I had the blood labs done on December 10th. Have I heard from anyone? NO! OF COURSE NOT! Not that I’m bitter or anything. :-) But how do I know that my test results haven’t just fallen through the cracks or something? So tomorrow, I’m calling them again and using my charm to get the stinkin’ results. I’m fairly certain that I don’t have celiac disease or tumors in my spit glands, but doggonit, I want to know FOR SURE.
So I see my ophthalmologist later this month. Then it’s back to the dentist, Dr. Dracula, and Dr. OhMyAchyBody next month. I also saw a dermatologist earlier this month (Dr. SheKeepsMePretty) and got a good report from her.
I was transferring information from my 2010 planner to my 2011 planner, and I now have 12 doctors—TWELVE—that I see on a regular basis. Isn’t that just a little excessive? Wouldn’t you think that one of them could figure out what’s going wrong with my body? God love ‘em, I shouldn’t say that because they’re all very good and trying very hard. I’m just getting a little tired of all this.
No more whining! Let’s talk about something fun! You all need to see our little Christmas tree. I don’t much like decorating a Christmas tree and I like un-decorating one even less. Also, by the time I do Dad’s tree and decorations, I just don’t want to do another one. But I help put up a small one at home and I always end up being glad when I do. This year, there was something a little different under our tree. Check it out.
Do you see something that doesn't belong there?
Here's a better view.
Yeah, nothing says "It's Christmas!" like a cat butt under the tree! "Butt" to be fair, I should probably let you see the other, more pleasing end of Louise the Wonder Kitty.
She's a pretty girl. Of course, now her sister Thelma wants her picture here, too.
Now that I've bored you with pictures, I'm going to bore you with more pictures. But these are worth it. Every year at my Dad's house (and formerly Mom's house, too, rest her soul), we set out the skating rink by the Christmas tree.
It's just a cheap thing that I picked up many years ago to amuse the younger sisters and brothers. Now THEIR kids love playing with it every Christmas. The skaters "skate" because there are magnets on the bottom of their bases that follow a set path that is inserted beneath the pond. I know what you're thinking. "Hmmm, I see two sets of skaters, but what's that lump?" That, my friends, is the skating foot!
Sometime, somehow, the beautiful figure skater doing the figure-8's was separated from her foot, unable to be fixed, buried in the trash can. And now the foot skates all alone, searching and longing for the body it once had.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
'Tis the Season
I mailed my Christmas cards today. I finished my Christmas shopping over a week ago and even did some of Dad's shopping. Now all that's left to do is to wrap the stuff. Make the Chex mix (about 12 gallons worth....seriously). Help put up our Christmas tree. Put up Dad's tree and decorations. And.....
I hate the holidays.
No, not really. But I just wore myself out thinking about all that's still left to do. So okay, our tree will go up this week and I'll do Dad's this Saturday. I'll start wrapping a few things every night and be finished with it in no time. The Chex mix takes about two days. Not so bad, after all! I feel better already!
So I trust that everyone had a fabulous Thanksgiving. Ginger had a nice, quiet day at home with herself, the cats, and close to a 2-pound lobster that I named Leroy. I gathered with most of my family at my sister's. You would not believe this turkey she cooked. Perfection in every way. I don't even like Thanksgiving turkey and I smacked my lips all over a big ol' chunk of it. I'm more of a Thanksgiving side dish person myself. Give me a bowl and I'm all happy. Some dressing/stuffing in one side, mashed potatoes in the other, and globs of gravy over the whole thing. Now that's what I'm grateful for! No pumpkin pie for me. I'd rather have a vat full of carbs any day.
Yes, I know it's been quite a while since I last posted. I've been working, gracing the doctors with my presence....you know....the usual stuff. I saw Dr. Dracula last Monday and I see Dr. OhMyAchyBody this Thursday. I'm now up to 41 tubes of blood and half a dozen finger pricks. Do we know what's wrong yet? Of course not! Wouldn't that just be too simple? My parotid glands have been so swollen off and on the past few days that I'm starting to look like some chipmunk's fat-faced aunt. The sleep machine and I are not being very cordial to each other these days, but I'm trying. Oh yeah, I had my yearly mammogram! Woohoo! The technician flopped my big left one up on the shelf, pushed the button to start the big squeeze, and said "Tell me when you think you can't stand a bit more pressure." I yelled, "Boy-howdy, this is it!" (or the polite equivalent), and she added a couple of more big squeezes. She had the shelf moving so much that I was standing on my tip toes, hanging on by a niblet, bless her heart. But she got good pictures and everything was clear. I was mightily relieved. But next year, I think I'll just lie down topless on our driveway and have Ginger back her car back and forth over the girls a few times so that I'll be better prepared. :-)
And now it's Christmas. Like I said, I mailed my Christmas cards this morning. I've already received one from a couple of my cousins. I love Christmas cards, but those yearly Christmas newsletters are another thing. Most of them are okay, but then you get the ones where you hear about every move the children make plus how many times the dog piddled during the year. Not so good. I keep thinking that I should put a holiday newsletter in my cards, but my life is so boring that no one would want to read it. However, it has occurred to me that I could lie! Then I would have a fabulous, interesting newsletter that would read something like this:
Merry Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, Harvest, Eid, you-pick-your-holiday, to you! I pray that God, Moses, Abraham, Glinda the Good Witch, Buddha, Mother Nature, you-choose-your-higher-power, has blessed you generously this year. This has been an exciting year for me, but please don't believe everything you hear on the news or read in the newspaper. I would explain most of it, but it's really none of your freaking business. Sorry. I get a little high strung when I think about it. So anyway, I finally found a job, praise the Lord, Mohammed, and Charlie Brown! It's only part time, but I'm hoping it leads to bigger and better things. Now that I have learned the 25 ways to clean a public bathroom, I've been promised that I will move up to scrubbing the toilets at our local prison. This is a good thing because now I can visit our little Bobby more often. I told him over and over again that smashing the front window is no way to break into a store, and that he should either pick the lock or hide inside until everyone has left. But would he listen to his mother? No way! At least now he has 3 good meals a day and a place to lay his head every night. Our youngest, Bedelia, just had her sixth child. We're not sure who the daddy is this time, but we just love this little cross-eyed angel. Bedelia is working on getting her GED and will be able to study more hours once she gets rid of that awful itch of hers. The doctor said he's never seen anyone get that many different varieties of this kind of rot, but he's sure he can clear it up within the next year or so. In the meantime, we made these cute cards out of construction paper and ribbon to send to everyone that she's been extra friendly to in the last several months. As for Big Ed, that good-for-nothing-useless-piece-of-crap has done walked off and left me. Praise God and Yoko Ono! With any luck, I can get the locks changed before he thinks of coming back! And me....what can I say. The surgery went well, but I'm still wearing my Reynolds Wrap hat just in case the aliens try to take over my brain again. But since it's Christmas, I've put a pretty red bow on top of it. Bing Crosby! And Happy New Year!
Well, that's the news in my little world. I hope things are well in yours.
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