Can’t Holder Tongue

As you may have noticed by now, I’m afraid of spiders. I killed a creepy black one tonight, but let a giant cellar spider live. It was only that I couldn’t get to it in its conveniently inconvenient location. Which was, I might add, right under the cabinet door to the garbage where I always use my foot to open the cabinet. I’m wearing flip flops. I didn’t have a choice.

It’s hot here.

Very hot.

But not that humid  hot that we had in the Caribbean. I can handle this hot. Except that I baked today for our Back-to-School night. Don’t you just love using the oven when it’s 95-degrees out?

But I’m not going to write (anymore) about spiders or how hot it is - or even that today is the third day of school and I’m so happy that it has finally started and my kitchen floor is sticky. Nope. None of that.

Ants.

When someone close to us gave my daughter an Ant Farm for Christmas last year, I thought I was going to die. I tried very hard to embrace the scientific benefit to this gift and actually got to the point of feeling badly when I killed them off because the Ant Farm was a total and complete failure. The full-fledged ant problem we ended up with in our bathroom eventually went away. I don’t even think I did anything to help it along except wipe them out manually. I had to.

Then that Carpenter Ant Scare that I had this summer freaked me out. What I have learned about ants is that certain things work for certain kinds. There are things that will work for carpenter ants that will not work for Argentine ants, which are the most common. We killed off our carpenter ants with - brace yourself - carpenter ant bait. I taped the little plastic poison centers  to the areas where they were swarming and where they were coming out. They seemed to work. (I was desperate!)

Little by little, I’ve had another ant problem go from little to pretty doggone BIG. We could see the little hole they were coming from. My husband put the carpenter ant traps nearby, but they didn’t work on these ants. They must be the plumber ants from Argentina. If I keep my kitchen clean, they aren’t bad, but then again, that’s not my style. I might be a homemaker, but I’m more of a home-un-maker by nature.

When we got back from vacation, about six battalions of these ants had managed to get into my air-tight canister of sugar. Those are some determined, albeit now dead, ants. Let me tell you.

I’ve just had enough. My tolerance is long gone and I’m now methodically working on the solutions to evict them once and for all. I started with the hole from whence they came. I got my can of Fill-Up-Foam, which fills up cracks, and sprayed it all along the bottom of my kitchen window, because apparently there was a gap along the entire bottom of that thing. They didn’t like that and some were stranded away from home, aimlessly wandering trying to make their way back. My sponge almost felt sorry for them - for a second.

Then, they started coming out a hole along the side  of my window. There must be a gap all the way around. I didn’t think I could just put it there as easily as I had done before, but I reserve the right to try again at another time.

Today I went to the hardware store and bought a puffer of diatomaceous earth. It’s supposed to be a very earth-friendly alternative to pesticides, which are simply NOT used in my neck of the woods. (Don’t tell anyone about my carpenter ant baits, please. And DE cannot be used on them, which is why I didn’t at the time.)

So, I puffed it into the side window crack. Since it takes 24 - 48 hours to work, I’m not expecting to see results tonight. I wasn’t, however, expecting to see a couple of brigades of ants crawling from under my counter into my garbage can either. I immediately went to get the puffer and - like an idiot - didn’t take proper precautions against inhaling it and I think I inhaled some. It doesn’t sound like emergency-dangerous dangerous, but it’s not good for you either. I’ve got that going for me. (Cough, cough, sputter…)

And look. It’s my bedtime. I must get a good night’s sleep so the dog will get his walk and I can try losing this floatation device that I’m wearing these days.

So there’s that…

My world is spinning. And  I had a massive case of vertigo this morning. I was so panicked that I wasn’t going to be able to work. I mean, I can blow off the laundry, but I can’t blow off 20 kindergartners who need me to open their yogurts and tell them where the garbage can is.

I took some meds and a little nap between a thoroughly challenging full-of-vertigo drop off. I had a hard time even turning my head and saying hello. Last year I was at one end of campus with my oldest and now I have to drop her off and walk the entire length of the school to drop off my little one. I see more people. I know more people. I say hello to more people. It’s not as much fun as it would be if I felt better.

Fortunately, by the time I woke up and scrambled to get back to the school on time, I felt much better. I even got another nap in this afternoon. Who says my life is any different?

But it’s crazy. I have so many things swirling around in my head that it’s spinning - this time figuratively. There are a million things that I’m juggling and trying to remember - including where I put my to-do list - and phone calls to make and appointments to make and I can’t get a hold of the people when I’m ready to talk and they call me back when I’m not even home. I’m sure it will settle. And all things considered, I’m actually happy that school is here. It’s just so much more predictable and I like routines and schedules. I feel like I’m in more control this way and - let’s face it - there are very few things in life that you can actually  control.

Then there’s this. And I smile and all is right with the world.

Click on it to make it bigger so that you can crawl inside the little houses and take a mini vacation.

Yesterday I wrote a (long) post about what’s been going on. I’ve been on vacation and we had a few “mishaps” that I kind of complained about. After thinking on it for a while, I decided that I didn’t want to publish it after-all. Complaining about a trip to paradise just sounds like I’m spoiled. I appreciate the joy that I experienced and I want to release the negativity from my soul, yada yada I’ll never fly on American Airlines again.

My family went to the Virgin Islands for a week. I’ve been wanting to go since my high school American History teacher, Mr. Sheehan, the best teacher I ever had, showed slides of the area and it became a dream to see it for myself. Well, I finally did.

We stayed on St. John but took a day trip over to the British Virgin Island of Tortola, as well as a day trip to USVI St. Thomas. I kept making jokes about wanting tortillas on Tortola, but no one humored me by laughing at such a dumb joke. Oh well.

The best day of the trip was when we rented a car and drove around St. John. We went to a few beaches and finished our outward direction of exploration at Skinny Legs for Painkillers and Key Lime Pie before turning around and heading back.

The turquoise water and white sand were the most beautiful that I had ever seen. I kept taking pictures and saying, “Now this is my new desktop picture.” But after a while, I realized that they were all worthy of this honor. Heaven, I tell you.

Bug bites and the humidity were a challenge for my tolerance and I had some strange rash on my arm that I thought was a bunch of bug bites but after a week, I think it must be a poison oak rash. It’s quite gross. It reminds me of when I got my small pox vaccination in the Army. And it kept making me think of leprosy and that scene in Papillon where Steve McQueen smoked that guy’s cigar, who then asked him how he knew he had “dry” leprosy (which is not contagious like the “wet” kind is) and he just said he didn’t. Yikes! I probably got the poison oak from my dog as I said goodbye at the sitters on our way to the airport. Thanks, Mooch.

I was thinking this post would be nice and long, but I’m super tired. It was the first day of school for both my kids. My youngest - the little baby that I just had yesterday - started kindergarten today. She did well. She didn’t cry at drop off, though she had to be peeled from my leg.

I started my job today as a kindergarten aide, too. They gave me a whistle and I’m drunk with power. It’s so much like all the volunteer work I’ve done in the classrooms so far. I’ll also be able to volunteer in both my kids’ classes and still have a little time to myself. I’m hoping to write more then. Maybe someday I’ll crack the freelance code and sell some of my stuff.

So, I’m off to bed. Now that I’m part of the working world, I’ve got to get a good night’s sleep. No more nap-times for me. More later…

I was thinking today that linking to that other site might bring some visitors over here. Perhaps I should have skipped the link. I know some of my readers are really into cycling like I am, but I don’t know if the reverse would be true.

Getting ready (for my interview!) I was thinking of some Very Serious Sports Fan (VSSF) clicking over here and thinking that he doesn’t have time for some part-time Nancy Drew doing some medical sleuthing over some condition they could care less about. I like the Trust But Verify site because of the technical aspect and the science. I’m kind of a geek that way. I can’t imagine a VSSF giving two hoots about that “M” word and what women concern themselves with. (M = menopause, and no, it has nothing to do with men.)

So, in light of possible new readers investigating this site a little further and to give my cycling fan cyber-friends a little sneak peak into greatness, I’ll tell you what I did last weekend. (Besides absolutely NOTHING else.)

I saw the Carrera de San Rafael twilight criterium. My husband tried to tell me that Fabian Cancellara was a competitor, though I was unable to find any evidence supporting this. I was thinking how funny it is that as much as I know about the professional cyclists, I wouldn’t always be able to pick them out of a line-up. I have just been informed that all the matchy-matchy spandex, shoe covers and color-coordinated helmet are called the “kit.” Once the racers are all dressed up, they are hard to identify, especially if they’re wearing sunglasses.

The race was pretty cool, and very fast. My girls were dancing on the sidewalk behind us and my husband and I were ringing our cowbells every time the racers sped by us for two-seconds. We were on the interior of the loop and I was so uptight having to cross the street in the middle of the race. I’m terribly fearful of accidentally getting run over by a cyclist, but even worse (really?) would be to ruin their race for them. We couldn’t stay for the whole thing since it ended so late and well, we’ve got kids. You can read more here. See the race here (scroll if you have to.)

So there - a little cycling blurb for new readers and old fans. And by the way, since it’s taken me so long to write this, between start and finish, I got the job. (Yay!) And I wanted to tell you to come back either the 24th or the 25th because I’m not going to be able to post in between with so much going on.

It’s good to be back. And I’ll be back.

So, I was doing a little editing on my site and decided to take a look-see back at the Trust But Verify link to see if I should keep it or delete it. I decided to keep it because of yesterday’s post.

The post talks about Floyd Landis’s hematocrit level and possible dehydration during his race, leading to signs of doping. They say that dehydration will show an elevated hematocrit level.

For those of us who speak English without having gotten our medical degrees officially- I mean I act like a doctor all the time - here’s an explanation of how I understand this. Correct me if I’m wrong.

Hematocrit is the percentage of red blood cells in the blood. These are the cells that carry the oxygen around your body. One of the doctors (that I didn’t like) that I saw referred to the iron you need as food on the table, food in the fridge and food in the freezer. Hematocrit would be a good way of gauging the food on the table. My hematocrit level was normal in January when I donated blood last. It was even above the minimum threshold required, which is 38%. When I tried to donate blood in May, (five months later!) it was only at about 36%, too low to donate, but up to 38%  for this recent set of blood tests. In other words, normal.

My freezer storage of iron - which, if I’m understanding this right - is called the ferritin level. This is how much iron is stored in my body. The normal range for this value is 22-291 ng/mL. Pretty big range, huh? Well, my value was at a 4.

This would probably explain the weakness, pale skin, and tiredness. What I’m trying to find is if it can actually explain the massive dehydration that I also experienced. (My vertigo is triggered very easily  by dehydration, too, by the way.) Low iron can sometimes lead to a condition called pica where you crave strange things like chewing ice and eating sand. The last time I had really low iron, I wanted to chew ice all the time. This time, I couldn’t get enough water. I drank so much water without ever quenching my thirst. This massive thirst - which is also a major symptom of diabetes, by the way (which I don’t have) - got me into the doctor’s office immediately. At this point, my low iron stores were discovered and I started iron supplements right away. After a few days, I started feeling better, and by now I’m feeling more normal (ish). (The thirst is gone, too.)

Come on, keep up with me, now. If I was extremely dehydrated (elevating my hematocrit levels super high), due to low iron stores, then drank TONS of water, bringing my actual (not perceived) hydration more to normal, my hematocrit levels would have come down, too. (Since they spike with dehydration.) Wouldn’t that have made this last (useless) OBGYN think that I don’t actually have anemia? (And therefore not fully investigate my abnormal menorrhagia, since he also thinks I’m too young to be experiencing pre-menopause.) (And NO, I don’t like referring to myself in any relation whatsoever to that “M” word. See previous post about me never getting older in the future.) Or, I could just be chasing a rabbit down a hole and none of it has anything to do with the other.

What in the world does all this have to do with the Tour de France? Well, after all the horrible things that my body has gone through in the last few months, I’m hyper-aware of how wrong things can go when you’re out of balance. Our bodies are such fine-tuned and complicated machines. I truly believe that Floyd was innocent of the doping charges that were brought against him. I can’t explain why I feel so strongly about this, and yes, I’m less sympathetic to most riders and more skeptical of most people, but I believe him. I think there are possible explanations of Floyd’s condition that have yet to be discovered - (and I haven’t ruled out tampering, either.)

It’s interesting to me to have read the post about Floyd’s hematocrit levels and relate to them so personally. It might not be interesting to you, so I’m sorry if I lost you at “hello.”

I would love a “real” doctor who was like House, without the horrible personality, to look at my big picture medically speaking. Why do I have to try to figure out all of the relationships between all of my symptoms? I don’t even know if I’m right and can’t get any of the doctors that I’ve seen to connect the dots. They just keep referring me back and forth to each other and don’t think that anything is related. Fortunately, after seeing five doctors and an acupunturist in the last five months, I’m feeling nearly like my old self again.

And it’s very possible that this post isn’t really about hematocrit levels at all. It could be that I’m just trying to procrastinate some Very Important Stuff that I just don’t want to do.

My youngest daughter just turned five today. There’s nothing like celebrating your kid’s birthday to make you see the passage of time at warp speed. They say the days are long and the years are short and there’s the proof, right there.

My mom and I took my daughters and my niece to a tea party at a very cool little place in San Francisco. I had about five cups of tea and I figured that I can get some cleaning done tonight. Yet, I’m yawning…

I wanted to give an update on my health, since I had been writing about it almost exclusively prior to the black-out stage. I’m feeling pretty good these days. Between dealing with my hormones and iron, I seem to have hit some sort of happy cruising speed. I have still gotten vertigo a few days in a row recently, but it hasn’t been as severe as it was. I’m also not falling asleep all the time, though I’ll miss my afternoon naps.

I just feel sort of normal. I did decide though, that my glimpse into being 40 wasn’t so good and I’m going to be 39 on my next birthday. Think of me as Punxsutawney Carol and I’ll stay in my 30’s for another six years because I saw a shadow. And then maybe I’ll turn 40, because if 40 was this bad, I loathe to think what 50 is going to be like. Of course, that throws the whole low maintenance hair thing out the window, since the greys will be more visible coming up here and I can’t be in my 30’s for six more years with a bunch of grey. I’ll have to start coloring regularly. But if that’s the price I have to pay, I’ll pay it.

While I’m at it, I’ll have to get rid of this middle-aged-middle. Young 30-somethings don’t have paunches that 40-somethings and 50-somethings have - no offense to all of you skinny older folks. I always thought I’d be one of them. I look in the mirror and wonder how this woman came to inhabit my body. If I evict her and devote all of my snack-time to working out, then perhaps you wouldn’t even be able to tell my age anyway. I’ll grow back my ponytail and be back in business.

Then again, I’d have to start paying more money for wrinkle reducers. I’m starting to show that sun damage wrinkles from growing up in southern California before sunscreen was invented. (For the record, I think I only used baby oil once or twice.) Maybe I could work up the courage for a cosmetic peel or laser treatment - they do everything with lasers these days. Hopefully it would only go into my skin, though and not penetrate through to my brain. I can’t lose any more brain cells. I already forget where I put my to-do lists.

It sounds to me like turning 39 might be expensive. I’ll have to think about it some more. I have a little over a month. Although, another possibility would be to just skip my birthday as if it didn’t happen. Like I said, I’ll have to think about it. I’m almost completely convinced, though.

I haven’t written for a while because I haven’t felt like it. I had an experience recently that was uncomfortable and unexpected. It silenced me because I stopped knowing what to say. Well, as is my nature, I just can’t hold my tongue.

I very distinctly remember a conversation that I had with two of my male Army friends when I was stationed at a remote destination. The ratio of men to women was completely skewed. I always call it a 10-to-1 ratio, but that might be a slight exaggeration - though it’s just as likely not to be. Women ruled, let me tell you. They called the shots because for every guy that might want to catch your attention, there was a line behind waiting for him to make a mistake. They tried all kinds of tactics to get in there, too.

Many guys tried the “friend angle.” They were my best buddies and I loved spending time with them. As soon as I would start dating someone, they would disappear as the fair-weather friends that they were. If they didn’t win me, they would often start rumors about me and try to smear me or undermine the relationship I was in. It was tiresome.

At “The Club” the place on base where we would all go for drinks and dancing, things would get crazy. I had men outright grab my body. I would turn and scream at them and the other men would stand there, holding their beers like it was a show. Not one would step in to defend me. Does that remind you of anything? Perhaps The Accused, or the Tail Hook Scandal?

But in light of the injustices thrown in my direction, the feeling of being in demand, or a desired commodity was heady. Most of the women that I was stationed with abused the role and treated men poorly. They acted like celebrities who think they can drink and drive without legal consequences or those that treat their employees as objects and throw phones at them.

The conversation that I recall was about how these women didn’t have to be so mean or rude about it. It wasn’t necessary to roll your eyes or give men the once over before rejecting them for a simple dance. After all, weren’t we all entitled to some decency, serving our country so far from home? Well, I took that advice to heart. I had a personal rule that I would dance with everyone who asked or no one at all. I wasn’t going to only dance with the best looking guys and snub the geeky ones. If one of my friends asked me out for drinks, I would go, it was always a nice time out. Innocent.

Being naive, however, I assumed that what was going on was all just as it appeared on the outside. The men who claimed to be my friends were my friends. I trusted them. When I went out for drinks with them, I was just out with a friend. Little did I know that they were not on the up and up and from their perspective. They considered our time together as dates. My friends dropped me like a hot potato when I got engaged, then married. I was completely disillusioned by the entire experience.

Fortunately, I wizened up through the years. I have, however, become very suspicious about motivations. People rarely do things just for themselves. Even me, I admit. All of my purely altruistic endeavors have bitten me in the butt. There has to be something in it for me or I will pay dearly. I believe now that that’s how most people operate. And I think it’s normal human nature. Recall that episode of Friends where Phoebe was trying to prove to Joey that you can do something completely unselfish. Even when there was nothing to gain, she couldn’t do a good deed without feeling good, which benefited her, which was not ultimately unselfish.

Recently, there was a person who started to make more regular appearances in my life. I thought they were purely coincidental and random. I enjoyed the conversations, but upon discovering they were sometimes “orchestrated encounters” and not random, after all, I started to feel uncomfortable. Then they started increasing in frequency that was not within my comfort level. I tried to believe that it was only as it seemed, a normal friendship. That was, after all, what it was billed as. But with all my experiences that if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck, I started to think that this was not what it was trying to be and I had to confront this person.

Now a real friend would allow me to be myself, which includes setting healthy boundaries. This friend disappeared like all the men from my past when they didn’t get their way. This may sound harsh, but we live by our experiences and there’s that duck again.

My kids liked this man and my daughter didn’t understand why he would not wave to her when he saw her. It provided a good opportunity to discuss standing up for ourselves when people make us uncomfortable. We talked about how no matter what anyone says, our own feelings are valid and no one has the right to say we’re wrong for feeling what we do. And perhaps it was a good example of confrontation for self-preservation, when confrontation is a really hard thing to do.

There is, of course, more to the story, and this person of whom I speak may still be a reader of this blog. His version, no doubt casts a more favorable light on himself. But the idea that I felt that reading all of my blog in one sitting (200 or 300 posts) was a bit too much and silenced me for a while. But I’m back. I don’t write always for an audience, I write to express myself. I don’t publish anything so private as to be inappropriate to know about me, though a lot of what I say comes from the heart. And I have to listen to what it tells me and then - I can’t hold my tongue.

I finally got my car back from the shop yesterday. You wouldn’t think that a little fender bender would cost so much to tape up. Not that I had to pay for any of it since I was the one rear-ended, but it cost over $11,000.  My car hasn’t been this clean since I bought it, either. All my fears of stinky sour milk sitting in there for four-weeks were unfounded. That baby shines - inside and out!

In the spirit of good fortune, I cleaned out my husband’s car, too. I even got the vacuum out for the nitty gritty. The contents of both my rental and his car are now in a giant pile right as you walk in the front door, (including a new golf bag that I picked up for free at a garage sale.) I’m sure it makes my husband especially pleased to know that all that stuff is so conveniently located. I’m going to get written up by my boss again, I just know it.

While cleaning out the car, I re-claimedmy Lyle Lovett CD and listened to it on the way home from dropping the kids off at the pool - for the second time today - to play with their dad so I could have a Rare Free Moment. I just wanted you know why I’m about to use the word “y’all.” (And an even further aside, my long-lost friend who introduced me to LL originally used to call this album “Live in Texas.” As in “reside,” not “performing in front of a live audience.” I always think of that and get a chuckle when I see the album title.) 

Thank y’all for being so sympathetic about what I’m going through with my health! I could have gotten straight to the point, but that’s just down right boring, now isn’t it? I got the results back from my tests and my iron is extremely  low. That explains so much. The tiredness and feeling lousy in general can be attributed to anemia. I’ve also seen something about how anemia can make you feel dehydrated which is really bad for my vertigo. This might also explain why I’m constantly thirsty, too. I’ve started taking iron supplements and having my way with meat. Now we just need to find out exactly why my iron is so darned low.

What’s so weird about feeling so tired all the time is that it’s not all sleepy-tired or I-just-worked-out-hard-tired. It’s probably what the nurse meant when she was asking my symptoms and referred to it as being weak. I told her I wasn’t weak, but it’s probably a tomato-heirloom sort of thing. We’re just using different words. I don’t feel up to doing all the things that I need to do. I guess that’s because I’m a little weak.

I look at this pile that has only been sitting right in front of my door for a day or so now and I don’t have what it takes to clear it. Nor do I have what it takes to sweep my front deck, which has its own pile of leaves with new ones accumulating by the minute. I don’t have what it takes to fold two baskets of clothes and put them away, either.

It seems that all I can do is a little maintenance. I’ve been keeping my kitchen pretty clean. I tried to let it go yesterday, but ants have appeared and that isn’t something I can let happen. We have a strict No Uninvited Pests Allowed rule at our house. I’ve also been keeping my bedroom clean and that goes a long way to giving me peace. My bathrooms are also clean. One of them needs its rug washed and one might need to have some kid stuff removed, but they’ve recently been scrubbed. That happened when I can claim that all that I accomplished for the entire day was to clean my bathrooms top-to-bottom.

I’m looking forward to feeling normal again. And energetic. And cleaning on coffee.

What I really meant to write about today, though, instead of all the mundane Living My Life Stuff was that when I took the kids on an ill-timed trip to the tidal pools today (high tide without enough time to wait it out) we were followed onto the beach by three deer. It was pretty cool. We have our own deer on the hill that we live on so we see them all the time, but this was different. This was a secluded beach where these critters were just happy-go-lucky romping towards us (then quickly tried to scale a cliff until the rocks slid out from under them and they practically fell back down, turned around and went the other way.) Oh my deer!

I think things might be turning around for me. I had been feeling so badly for so long that I was really getting used to it. A new set of symptoms sent me to the doc yesterday and I had an interesting experience. First of all, she didn’t strike me in the least as someone who really cared how I was doing. She just dialed it in, if you know what I mean. Secondly, she ordered a bunch of tests, which should be helpful one way or another, but other than that, I don’t expect that yesterday’s visit will do anything for me.

Wednesday when I had acupuncture, my kids were being so boisterous that I called my oldest daughter in to my little curtained off area to give her a little talking to. I figured she’d be able to handle seeing me all voodoo-dolled-up so that’s why I called her in. Ultimately, that little talking to didn’t help and my Savior had to separate them, after which they were quiet as little mice.

On the way home, my youngest daughter cried because she didn’t get see me stuck with all the needles. I’m so unfair! But I got her back. Yesterday, the doc ordered so many tests that they took out four vials of blood. I let my youngest daughter watch. I asked her if she wanted to and she was fascinated. I showed her that it didn’t hurt me and she asked me if I had any blood left when they were done.

I wasn’t trying to traumatize my kids in anyway, they’re actually curious and I was just making an effort show them it was no big deal. My husband encourages them to be doctors some day, so they already have so much knowledge about the way the human body works. But, my oldest asked me later why she couldn’t see me get my blood drawn like her sister did. So much for fairness.

So anyway, as I was getting new symptoms and getting tired of feeling badly all the time, I just stopped taking all the things that I was taking. Theoretically, I was trying to prevent vertigo from happening. Since it didn’t work all that well, it dawned on me that perhaps the cure is worse than the disease and not taking anything wouldn’t hurt if taking stuff didn’t help.

Maybe it’s the irony of feeling better after a (useless) visit to the doctor’s office (like the noise that goes away so the mechanic can’t hear it.) Maybe it’s being off the meds. Maybe my vertigo is just tired of hanging around and ready to go dormant for a while. I don’t know. I do know that I felt pretty good today. I even threw all caution to the wind and slept horizontally last night for the best night sleep I’ve had in a long time.

All I know is that I have something that I haven’t had in a long time. Hope.

I had another round of acupuncture today. I didn’t have the usual Deep Relaxation that I normally have because both of my kids came with me and I was a little uptight. I don’t know if my Savior had any other clients at the time, but their giggling and talking and carrying on was distracting for me, but also made me self-conscious about how it would effect others. In general, they’re very good. Together they can me just more.

Yesterday I felt awful and then woke up in the middle of the night with some sort of throbbing pain in my gut. I’m starting to wonder at the myriad of symptoms I’ve been coping with. My hypochondriac-self is wondering if the general malaisethat I’m experiencing could be a sign of something more serious. These abdominal pains are new and the constant fatigue is new-ish and I wonder if they’re all related rather than just being a random collection of things.

I’m going to see a regular Western medical doctor tomorrow to check things out a bit further. Apparently, when I was listing off some of my symptoms to the appointment operator at the call center, the excessive thirst that I have all the time was the trigger that got me a quick appointment.

I watch my husband with so much envy. He rides his bicycle five-days-a-week. He is stronger at this point in his life than he has ever been. A week from Saturday, he’s riding in the Marin Century, which is a 100-mile road ride. He’s strong and healthy and never catches anything that goes around and except for the basil cell carcinoma he had sliced off his skin, he’s not been to the doctor for anything in years! (The dentist is another story…)

He watches me take my medicines, which I’m trying to just wean off of, and catch my colds and skip my exercising because I feel like crap all the time and he just doesn’t relate to how I could be feeling so awful. He told me that if he were me, he’d go on a major health kick and get one-hour of cardio everyday and eat super healthy and take vitamins and… well, if only I had it in me.

I took my dog for a walk today because I happened to be up at 6:00am because my sleep is so challenging. (You try sleeping on your back sitting up without turning your head exclusively for four-months and see how well you do.) After my dog walk, I had a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee and within a half-hour, I was asleep again. I slept until about 10:00am while my kids played quietly like little angels. Who falls asleep after drinking coffee? Who needs a nap everyday after two-years-old (or so)? Why do I only feel my best on Wednesdays after I play voodoo doll?

But something funny did happen today. I was walking my dog and my cat , who follows us  - and my cat was harassed by three birds. I’ve never seen anything like it before! They followed us and kept flying and landing on the street near her and surrounding her and chirping at her. She kept looking at me like she didn’t know what to do. I’d call her and she’d meow at me then walk a little farther. Then the birds would move to her new location. She seemed to chirp at them a few times, but it wasn’t until we were about a block up the road from where it began, the birds suddenly peeled off and flew away. Talk about bold territorialism!

Then I walked up the backside of my property and my neighbor let his dogs out as we were there. I just about jumped out of my skin to see the dog behind me and the neighbor standing at his door watching me without saying a word. It was Creepy with a capital “C.” I have yet to send him the letter I wrote asking him to get his things off our property. I decided to send it through the mail so I don’t have to confront him accidentally at his house and I’m making from both my husband and I instead of just from me.

I’m taking my kids to the tide pools now to take our minds off of everything. Or maybe I’ll talk them into going to the regular pool to cool off and play. Or maybe there’s another nap in my future.