Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

So. This morning there was much wailing and moaning in the Trance house, and it wasn’t even all from me due to having to get up at six on a Saturday.

This child was NERVOUS. I think he genuinely imagined that someone was going to drive an ice pick into his arm and suck out every last drop of blood.

After the wailing, we headed out into the Deep Ghetto to Ghetto Hospital, where we met up with a very nice Lab Lady who had purple-streaked hair.

The very nice Lab Lady asked him to pee in a cup, which he did, and then she asked him to sit in The Chair. You know the one, The Chair with the long arm, The Chair in which the vampires come and suck your blooooood.

The boy was as pale as a ghost, and that is usually not one of his physical traits, even though he certainly could have gotten it from me. I honestly thought he was going to faint.

The very nice Lab Lady explained the process in detail as she tied the rubber band around his arm, and she got to work.

He was fine, but this is where he messed up – he watched the whole damned thing.

As the fluid poured into the tubes, I swear I saw his eyes roll back into his head.

Thankfully, there was no passing out, and we made it through THAT.

Then we were on to Radiology, where he changed into a gown and was ushered into a big scary room with big scary equipment.

Let me preface this by telling you that I went to a party last night. I had a relatively early night, but a good one, and as a result of this good party night I was holding in the mother of all beer farts. So just imagine the discomfort and embarrassment and terror going through my mind, all while my baby is about to have to submit to this Big Scary Test.

Yeah.

So, we’re in this room, and the very nice x-ray girl who is just as cute as she could be explains the test, and J is silent and nervous and I am silent and praying to the Goddess of Gas that I will not fucking EXPLODE in this place and also praying to the Gastrointestinal Gods that nothing is wrong with my child so that we can move on with our weird little lives and then the boy is given a cup of what looks like a vanilla milkshake.

It’s not a vanilla milkshake.

I myself have had an upper GI, and let me tell you, barium tastes like chalky ass. It tastes like some sick motherfucker’s idea of a joke.

The J-Man took one sip and looked at me like, “Are you kidding me with this shit?”

I unfortunately was not kidding.

At this point I had to leave the room because they were going to start taking pictures, but I knew that this was probably a good thing, because he would be more likely to drink it for strangers than for the woman who labored with him for 72 fucking hours.

Yeah, I know.

He drank it, and I watched on a computer screen while it traveled through his little innards into his stomach, which was pretty cool. He rolled this way and that as directed, and he seemed to be doing fine…

…until they asked him to drink a second cup of barium.

The second cup was a different kind, thinner, and it smelled and apparently tasted just like glue.

The J-Man began to crack.

“I can’t do it.”
“You can.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to, or they’re going to make you do this WHOLE THING over again.”
“NO!”
“Yes. So drink.”

He drank about half of it while holding his nose as the x-ray tech and I cheered on (but not too loudly, lest I lose my fart), and the test continued.

All in all it took about an hour and a half to complete the upper GI, and afterward we immediately went to McDonald’s and gorged ourselves on breakfast, which is something we never do. It was a nice treat.

And I didn’t fart, not even once.

Success.

I am reasonably certain that nothing is going to be wrong with him save a nervous stomach from those little hellions at school tormenting him, but I am glad we got things checked out.

Happy Saturday.

I took the J-man to the pediatrician the other day to discuss the occasional vomiting that has been plaguing him lately.

I told the doctor exactly what was going on: No fever, no extreme pooping, no pain, no lethargy, just the odd barf here and there for no apparent reason.

He asked the J-Man whether he was having any problems at school, and the J-Man gave him a full rundown regarding the teasing. The doctor then asked him whether he was being threatened or HIT. I don’t know whether he meant at school or at home, but I was impressed, and I was even more impressed that the J-Man did not tell the doctor that I threaten him with a shoe at least once a week.

I guess he really doesn’t take me seriously. Damn.

Doctor: “Mom, do YOU have a history of stomach problems?”
Me: “Ha ha ha ha ha.”

I had to go through all of THAT, and when I told him that I had gastroparesis he immediately ordered a upper GI for the boy as well as a boatload of blood tests. We have to go to the ghetto hospital Saturday morning at 7 AM.

Damn, damn, damn.

You see, my child has such a pristine history of health (knocks wood soundly) that he has never had to go to the doctor for anything but a checkup. No bad colds, no bad flus, no hospital visits, NOTHING.

I know, I’m incredibly lucky. So is he.

Anyway, this means that he has never had to so much as pee in a cup or have a blood test. This means that he is downright terrified of needles.

“I’m not having a blood test.”
“If you need one, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I will chew through the restraints.”
“They’re not going to restrain you. They’re just going to tie a thing around your arm-”
“-LA LA LA I’M NOT LISTENING!!!!”
“You’re being silly. I have blood tests all the time. It’s very simple.”
“I’m not having one. And I’m not drinking barium.”
“It’s like a milkshake.”
“It probably tastes like crap.”
“It will be no big deal, trust me.”
“I’m not doing it.”

So this is the attitude we’re going in with, and I am highly nervous.

The kid doesn’t even want to pee in a cup, and that’s pretty much the easiest thing in the world for a boy.

While he is usually very well-behaved, I am having nightmares about a screaming, whirling dervish of a thrashing Tasmanian devil-child that I am going to have to bodily restrain.

That won’t be much fun for either of us.

I just hope everything is OK, and that, God forbid, he doesn’t have gastroparesis or something of its ilk.

I’ve been so spoiled with my easy, easy baby.

In other news, Alice the hamster got out of her ball the other day and walked across two full rooms past three hungry cats without any of us noticing until she strolled in front of the television, prompting all of us to become airborne and collectively scream.

Lucky, lucky hamster.

Happy Friday.

My sister got an apartment!

Like, with walls and stuff!

I am SO relieved.

Good times, good times.

Happy Thursday.

So, my eyes. Many have asked, few have gotten answers, and I guess it’s about damned time I dropped a little full disclosure on y’all.

First, some history, for those of you who may not know the whole story.

I was ostensibly born blind in my right eye. At least that’s how I came to my adoptive parents.

My parents, to give them proper credit, did everything in their power to try to fix this. I went to physical therapy for years (which was something I loved, given the fact that I got to pick a gumball-machine-type toy out of a box with every visit) and was subjected to a whole lot of flashing lights and testing. I was patched, which meant basically that I had to sit there for hours on end while my good eye was covered and not see a damned thing.

None of it worked, and I was later told by my neuro-ophthalmologist that these physical therapists were the worst kinds of shysters, since the nerves behind the “bad” eye were atrophied and that I would never have been able to achieve vision.

STILL, there was nothing physically wrong with the eye itself, save a slightly off-centered pupil.

This really never bothered me. My other eye was correctable to 20/20 and I could read just fine. I could drive. I could work.

It wasn’t until 1998 when my other eye began to take a shit that things began to get bad. I started to fuck up at work, not surprisingly, since I was producing and reading reports in a four-point font. I started to have a lot of difficulty driving and even caused a couple of minor accidents.

By the year 2000, when I was forced to go on disability, my “good” eye was only correctable to about 20/200. This was a major blow, obviously, one I wrote and bitched and kvetched about for many years.

It was presumed that I had multiple sclerosis, and I was tested and treated for this at Rush hospital in Chicago for three years with massive doses of steroids. During that time, the vision in my left (“good”) eye improved sporadically, and for a period of two weeks, so did the vision in my right (“bad”) eye.

No one could explain it. I was told that it would never last by neurologists and neuro-ophthalmologists alike. It was just a freak thing.

Of course I hoped, and of course I dreamed, but of course it didn’t last.

After three years and a lot of liver destruction Rush determined that I did not have MS after all, since I was not showing the telltale “plaques” on my MRIs, and they kicked me to the curb.

I saw many other doctors for several years, and while I have been diagnosed with this and with that, no one could tell me what was up, if anything, with my eyes.

In 2009, I was prescribed the seizure drug Lamictal. After a few weeks, this happened.

I know it sounds hard to believe. It’s hard for ME to believe, and I lived it.

All was well for a few months, and let me tell you, it was one big fat trip. If you have only seen the world through tunnel vision your whole entire life, seeing it in widescreen really is something.

My doctors remained skeptical. “It’ll never last.” “Impossible.” “I don’t know why this is happening, but it can’t last.”

I am a pie-in-the-sky type of girl. I believe in the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, true love, and miracles. I believed.

And it seemed to be all good – until my ass-reaming insurance company decided they’d rather have paid for my OLD seizure medication.

Still, I thought, maybe it wasn’t the drug. Maybe it was, in fact, just a miracle.

It wasn’t.

A few weeks after I stopped taking the drug, my vision started to taper off again.

I now can see light and dark in my right eye and am correctable to 20/100 in my left eye.

The strange thing is that I think my doctors were almost relieved. Like my entirely un-scientific recovery/miracle had totally flipped them out.

I don’t know. I didn’t lose anything, really. I’m just back to where I started, hunching over the laptop and squinting a lot. It sure was nice while it lasted, though.

So that’s what is going on with my eyes. I was sort of reluctant to talk about it for a while, because well, it’s been hard to let go of.

So.

In other news, I sent the J-Man off on his overnight camping trip today. He has enough clothes for two weeks, and is still pretty verklemmt about not being about to plug into anything electronic. He is worried about bears, and I am worried about teasing, and both of us will probably be fine.

Happy Thursday.

I have been an uber-slacker since coming home from my trip, and this is a Very Bad Thing, because hey, I am moving in THREE MONTHS.

Moving. To another house. One that does NOT have two garages and a basement that will take kindly to being crammed to capacity with mountains of crap.

I need to get cracking, by cracky.

My mom did some major basement-cleaning in my absence, and I now need to do things like Craigslist my weight bench (I do not lift weights) and the treadmill (the treadmill only works sporadically) and the huge metal desk (AGH) and everything else I think that someone might want (haul out of the basement).

I also need to start packing up books. I have six bookshelves full of books in the TranceCave, and although both my mom and stepdad think I am clinically insane for bringing them all, YOU DON’T GET RID OF BOOKS. Books are non-negotiable, at least in my book.

Then we have the war of the cats. He has two and we have three, and neither of us are willing to budge regarding our respective numbers, but neither of us want five cats in the big house.

Five cats are a lot. Five cats are definitely grounds for mockery.

Part of me really wants to just secede from the family and go on and get my own little apartment somewhere and leave them to this madness.

Then I remember I have the kid, who needs driving and all that stuff.

Damn.

In other news, the J-Man informed me yesterday that it is TIME for me to start dating again.

He was very no-nonsense about the whole thing and informed me that if I didn’t pick someone, he would.

This terrifies me.

I have been asked out, but I’ve just been sort of… meh about the whole thing.

It’s just so… difficult.

I don’t know if I’m just in a five-mile radius that boasts men who are utterly devoid of personality or whether I somehow bring that out in folks, but I’ve definitely met a lot of The Boring and The Jerky during the times in which I’ve been out and about.

It’s disheartening.

Plus there’s the whole I-fall-down-a-lot-and-don’t-drive thing. I’m never quite sure how to broach that little discussion.

I don’t know.

I am interested to see who my kid would pick for me.

Probably an avid video gamer who really likes ice cream and drives a really cool car.

That wouldn’t be entirely bad. Maybe I should give him free rein.

Happy Wednesday.

So this weekend is the J-Man’s turn to travel, as his class is going on an “outdoor education” trip to a camp deep in the wilds of Indiana, some four hours away.

You would not even believe what I am required to pack for said trip. Apparently they spend the entire time (only one day and one night and the next morning) outside except for when they’re sleeping, so the list of clothing options is extensive.

It’s something like five pairs of pants! Six sweatshirts! Three pairs of shoes in case the first two get too muddy! It’s totally ridiculous. I’m thinking of sending him in one waterproof snowsuit and boots and having done with it.

There is absolutely no technology allowed on this trip, something that has absolutely horrified the J-Man beyond the limits of reason. No DS? No iPod? But WHAT WILL I DOOOOOO?

Apparently they are going to be doing a lot of team-building exercises and things like climbing a rock wall (which I’m sure my heights-fearing child will LOVE).

I’m pretty excited for him. He is nervous about the large contingent of Lil’ Assholes that will be present, and I kind of don’t blame him.

Some of the kids in the J-Man’s class take snobby bitchery to a whole ‘nother level.

Here’s hoping he can give as good as he gets.

After all, he was taught by the best.

In other news, I am a hot mess post-Green Bay. My body is detoxing and I have a zit the size of a dime on my chin, red eyes, and of course the five-pound weight gain. Yesterday I had three freaking seizures (apparently I need to drink every day to stave them off) and I have been sleeping at least twelve hours a night since my return.

I love these trips, but they kick my ass pretty thoroughly.

I am eating like a saint and drinking gallons of water in hopes that I will return to some sort of a normal state soon, but I guess this is my penance for partying it up for four days.

I have confirmed with my mother that I am indeed quitting smoking on Monday, in hopes that she would get on board.

No dice. My mother doesn’t smoke a lot, but she is sort of a die-hard.

This will make things a little more difficult in the willpower department, but I guess it’s probably good to be tested.

I do know that I’m ready. It’s time.

It’s still scary as hell, though.

Tomorrow is the school’s VIP Day, in which I will attend school with the J-Man and probably get into all sorts of trouble for talking in class and making faces at the teacher.

Happy Tuesday.

So. Green Bay was awesome and perfect and full of love and squee, and I will refrain from mentioning every single person by name and talking about how fucking incredibly awesome they are and posting their picture and professing my undying love for them, because you would probably vomit all over your laptop.

I had a great time, seriously, and due to my copious drinking I did not have A Single Seizure, which rocked. I did, however, eat my weight in cheese and other Green Bay delights, so when I stepped on the scale this morning I found that five pounds came back with me. Five whole pounds.

It was worth it.

I got to see a lot of the old friends that I see every year that I love dearly, a lot of old friends that I haven’t seen in years and missed dearly, and I met a lot of new friends that I found to be really freaking cool, so it all worked out like a charm.

I always worry that my underlying social awkwardness is going to creep in and that I’m going to be the one who winds up hiding behind the potted plants, but all was well and I think I did OK. I sang karaoke with only moderately shaky hands and even danced. I fell, as is par for the course, but I danced.

(I actually fell while trying to smack someone in the ass, so in retrospect, the fall was probably a deserved fall.)

Today I am feeling that sort of mopey post-Green Bay depression in which, Hey! There is no group of forty loving, hugging people around me! And lo, I am Alone! The Sadness! It overwhelms me! And so I am doing my seventy-five loads of laundry and drinking lots of black coffee and feeling sort of verklemmt, but it’s all good, because I had four days of love and fun, and damn it, it was special.

The cat was so happy to see me arrive home that she actually shook.

The child leaped up from his video game, gave me an enormous hug, chastised me for going away, and promptly parked himself back in front of the video game console.

It’s nice to be missed.

In my absence, the stove man came back and informed my mother that our stove is an evil machine that emits far too much carbon monoxide and must be destroyed, so this week I must purchase a stove.

This seems to be a huge waste, since we are moving and will have to leave the damned thing here, so I am going to buy a cheap-ass reconditioned one.

In other news, I have to quit smoking before the move and I am thinking of doing it sooner rather than later. I smoked a LOT this weekend, and I am sounding about as gruff as Barry White on cigars and feeling about as icky as someone who has ingested bleach.

I think next week I’m going to get a packet of nicotine patches and just do the damn thing.

Sigh.

I will miss you, peppermint-patty ultra-light menthols. We have had a lot of good times, and I will miss you a lot, but it’s time for me to get to steppin’.

Double sigh.

Happy Monday.

So. A man will be here in a half an hour to fix the stove, the hot water heater issue is resolved, I am packed for Green Bay, and everything is rolling nicely along a smooth conveyor belt, just the way I like it.

I have a meeting at the J-Man’s school tonight with all the yuppie parents to discuss outdoor education, which is basically a short camping trip the kids are taking in a couple of weeks.

After that I will probably stay up all night re-packing my suitcase a hundred times and pulling my hair out, and willing this zit to go away.

I always get a zit before Green Bay.

I leave tomorrow morning and will be driving to GB with three of my compadres.

In other news, my sister’s boyfriend got a fat tax return, so they will almost definitely have an apartment by the end of the week. *fingers crossed*

I remain hopeful.

Happy Wednesday, Happy Thursday, and Happy Whole Damned Weekend. See you on the flip side.

The gas people were here today, installing a new outside meter. To do so, they had to shut off the gas. This took three hours and a lot of outside banging and clanging, and when they were done, a Dude came inside to turn on and check all of our various appliances.

I should have known something was amiss when he said “check”, because everything in my house is a hundred years old or more.

First he checked the hot-water heater, which I was fairly confident about, since I purchased it only a couple of years ago.

Wrong. Apparently the people who installed it installed the pipes against code. Red Tag! And with that, I had no hot water.

Next was the dryer, which was relatively new, too. Thankfully that was fine.

The furnace was fine and the thermostat was fine, and then Dude turned on the oven.

His little machine started to beep loudly, and I knew that couldn’t be good.

It wasn’t. I guess our oven was giving out 450 ppm of carbon monoxide, and Dude stared at me and spoke in a Very Serious Tone when he red-tagged it and told me that it could have killed us all dead.

Shit.

Therefore my mother and I are making frantic calls to appliance repair shops, trying to get people to come out NOW, TODAY to fix our shit up because my mother is on the warpath.

My mother dislikes broken things more than most.

I can live without a stove for a couple of days. maybe even hot water. I’m malleable that way.

My mother is as malleable as a steel beam.

So that’s my day. How are you?

I’m nervous about this upcoming Green Bay trip. I’m leaving on Thursday, and still I am puking occasionally. The puking medicine has worked wonders in that I am actually pooping and am not puking Every Single Time I Eat, but still there is puking, and I don’t really relish the thought of puking on my trip.

I’ve also still been having the odd seizure, and THAT is something that is a definite no-no. Public seizures are fucking embarrassing.

I’m hoping that I can keep things under control. I will be drinking, which for some reason tends to drastically cut down on the seizures (maybe because alcohol is a depressant?), but then that might cause more puking. I’m not going to drink a lot, but still. I actually bought some beer to sort of try out this weekend to determine whether or not I can drink safely, so tonight will be my test run.

Wish me luck, because I really do hope to be able to have a couple of beers with friends, as trivial as it may seem.

I drink maybe once a month or so, and God do I enjoy it. Maybe too much.

Anyway, this trip is looking like a lot of fun. There will be dancing, laser tag (!), a sleigh ride, karaoke, several lunches and dinners, a Very Bad Bar, sledding, and lots and lots of hanging out and swapping stories and such. I’m really looking forward to it. There will be a lot of new people this year, too, which is exciting.

I’m sort of a social tool in a lot of situations, but I must say that I am entirely, take-off-your-shoes-and-kick-back comfortable in Green Bay. It’s just a great group of people.

Hopefully I will be healthy enough to fully enjoy and embrace it. I know I’ll be completely fucking exhausted and worthless at the end of the weekend, but it will be worth it.

In other news, the J-Man’s school is having a VIP Day, and he has picked me as his VIP to take to school and go through the day with him. There will be chapel and a band concert and a luncheon and the kids will have crafty activities with the adults, and I feel very honored to have been picked, because after all I am just The Mom.

It should be fun, and I’m interested to see how he interacts with the kids in his class.

Good times.

This could be just some sort of an attempt at leverage because he is trying to talk me into allowing him to pierce his ear, but then maybe he just loves me.

Plus there’s no way in hell he’s piercing his ear at eleven.

None.

Happy Saturday.