What the crap 1

Chuck and I were stopped at a red light last fall. It was a nice day and the bar on the corner had its door propped open. As we were waiting for the light to change, a dog walked into the bar. Chuck said plainly, "A dog walked into the bar." I kept waiting for the rest of the joke, until I realized it wasn't lead in to a joke but just an observation of what had happened.

I'm blind!

I was sitting on the couch almost two weeks ago (playing sudoku, of course) and charlie walks up spraying something. I heard it but I didn't hear it. Does that make sense? I'm so used to us playing with spray bottles that it didn't occur to me that it was a bad noise to be heard in the house. Well before I can put two and two together, he is right in front of me and sprays the insecticide right in my eyes. I grabbed it from him and ran to bathroom, rinsed a few minutes, took out my contacts, rinsed a little more, and then called poison control. Of course I'm home alone! I had to rinse my eyes for ten more minutes and ended up having to go to the ER later and the eye doctor a couple days after that. They are getting better. I had chemical conjunctivitis or something like that. Thank goodness I had the contacts in, I guess, covering my corneas!As for how charlie got pesticides, they were in a box we hadn't unpacked. While i was rinsing my eyes i heard foam being sprayed and he had bathroom cleaner, too. I'm so glad that nothing more serious happened. I didn't think it was any big deal that we hadn't unpacked all the boxes in the dining room. I thought by being marked kitchen, it wasn't things that came from under the kitchen sink. Ugh, I get sick thinking of what could've happened. Anyway, that's my insecticide story. My child tried to blind me

Sticky

MIL had charlie recently. She was down in her basement with him. She had her back to him while she was on the internet. He was taking stuff up the stairs and then throwing it under them so it would roll down the boards underneath and then he'd go to bottom, retrieve things, and do it again. Well, he got quiet and she asked him what he was doing. He didn't answer so she turned around. He was looking intently at his finger and occassionally poking it. She asked him what was wrong. "Sticky" he said. She wasn't sure if he had an owie so she asked and he said no, just "sticky". So she asked what he had gotten into. He told her "sticky". So he came and gave it to her. She squished it and smelled it and couldn't tell what it was. She asked him, "Charlie! Where did you get this?" He then stuck his finger up his nose.Well!It was sticky!

I made it just for you!

I was getting in the shower and charlie was throwing a fit because he wanted one, too. I stripped him down even though I had JUST dressed him after his shower with chuck. I already had my glasses off and I'm super blind but it didn't matter because after two years I can undress him blindfolded. I threw him out with his towel while I dried and yelled for chuck to come get him. Charlie hunkered down on the rug while we waited. Chuck came in and charlie handed him something. Chuck had it for a few seconds and then declared "sick!" I asked what it was and he said he thinks it was poop. To which charlie said, "yeah!"Nasty baby. He's so giving, though.

It's not my favorite. Thank you.

I was bending over charlie, trying to buckle his car seat into the car with him in it. My boobs were hanging in his face, and he didn't like it. He kept pushing them away and it felt the same as when he refused to nurse. He would just lay there and push my boob away and then he'd roll over and try to crawl away as quickly as he could. This incident brought all those emotions back to the surface and my heart was breaking all over again. I really miss it, that time, that feeling, my baby.
He's not my baby anymore, you know.

You're invited!

So I don't know why the last post was saved as a draft and never posted. I'll add it to my list of complaints at my pity party, which by they way, you're invited to.
Charlie wasn't done being sick. It came back and so we went back to the doctor. He had lost even more weight! They finally gave him something for nausea and had a plan for if he didn't improve. He did get better, thank the Lord!, because I didn't want him to get poked and prodded, but I didn't want him to waste away into nothing.
I am not doing as well. My never ending bleeding, has turned painful instead of just bothersome and an u/s showed that I have two cysts on my ovary and one on my cervix and abnormal endometrium that's also twice as thick as it should be. I'm a little scared but mostly just anxious for them to get the bleeding to stop. I'm so tired that I think I could just fall over or blow away in the wind, which if you've ever seen me, you know would not be very easy!
The house hunting is hard when we are on duty. We narrowed our search in town down to four houses and Chuck and my dad went and checked them out tonight. The one we really loved, which we knew we probably couldn't have, does need too much work. The white one that seemed like a safe pick to me, has a lot of problems that they've covered up. The other safe one is safe but has small rooms. My dad thinks we should go with the one that needs some work, but is pretty big. The real estate agent even thinks they will take 5% less, which when you're talking about 100k is a lot of money.
That's where we're at. I'm getting a migraine, probably from dehydration and the blood loss, we're starting to pack, I have a river running through me, charlie is on the mend and gaining weight, and that's about it.
Thanks for coming to my party.
Maybe you'll get another invite soon!

I'm Building an Arc. Want on?

Life just always has more. We think we can't take any more or that there couldn't possibly be anything else thrown at us. But it comes. In buckets, in torrents, crashing down on us, wearing us down, molding us into different people.
I went to therapy a few weeks ago. Actually had the nerve to tell my therapist that I was feeling confident enough to report Scary Doctor to the State. Told him I felt confident about MIL moving in with us for a while. I was gearing up for vacation and so excited to go! Chuck and I had hammered out a plan to be out of credit card debt in a year so we could buy a home. Hah!
I shouldn't be so sarcastic. Maybe I actually did feel that confident and it wasn't just a dillusion.
But later that night (I don't know why things always happen the day I see my therapist), I ran into said Scarey Doctor and spent the next three days obsessively repeating "why did I have to see him again?" The emphasis changed from see, to I, to him, to again. I really didn't want to be me. I didn't want to have seen him. Especially not ever again. Don't want to think that it could happen again. My hands are shaking now just thinking of living in the same town as him for the rest of my life.
MIL's surgery went well. The day of her surgery, however, I ate a purple cow. A purple cow is a float with vanilla icecream and grape soda. This would not normally be a noteworthy event, but I have food dye allergies and appearantly Shasta does not label their sodas appropriately. I got a bad migraine, which also is not normally a unussual event in my life, but I hadn't had one in four weeks. This meant that I had not used my medicine for it in four weeks.
For a little background on my health, I'm allergic...to everything...especially if it can even remotely treat pain. Stadol, morphine, demerol, percocet, darvocet, dilaudid, codeine, ultram, toradol, reglan, compizine, anything else that sounds magically delicious in the throws of a terrible migraine.
Well, so far, I had not been allergic to Buprenex. I had some mild itching, but nothing serious. So my doctor had it compounded into a nasal spray since it only comes in an injection.
So we're up to the purple cow. It was yummy. The migraine was instantanious. I used the nasal spray. It felt like it hadn't sprayed so I used it again because I could used two sprays anyway (I just normally didn't). My sinuses started to burn. I tried to lay down, which just made the medicine drain back and down my throat. Chuck was trying to sleep but I kept telling him how bad it hurt. Then the itching started. Not the normal I-just-had-a-powerful-narcotic-itchy nose. It was head to toe insanity. I had to get up and pace the building.
I kept thinking that it would start to wear off, but it just kept getting worse. Every hour, I'd say "this is the worst of it" but every hour I was proved wrong. I finally wet a washcloth to rub with so I would stop scratching with my nails and I broke into the office downstairs and stole a backscratcher. After four or five hours, I called the pharmacy. They informed me that itching with this particular medicine was a very serious reaction and to get to the emergency room. My dad was going to work anyway so I just hitched a ride from him. The ER gave me a shot, steroids, and some other pills. They gave me a prescription for all the meds they had given me. The shot also comes in a pill. Anyway. If I didn't take the shot one every six hours on the dot I got the most horrible rebound migraine and the ithcing came back. So, I was supposed be leaving on vacation. I planned to stop the medication over the weekend and go to the ER to get the rebound migraine stopped and then leave for AR. This disaster could still be salvaged. Well I got a horrible migraine anyways so just went ahead and stopped the other med. Went to the treatment center where there was a ton of drama that I won't even take the time to type about and a little I will. They couldn't get an IV. They ended up putting a infant line in my index finger. It took forever to run the meds, which didn't work but they didn't want to wake the doctor. So they called him again in the morning and gave me a different med. It worked and I went home. Charlie appearantly got the flu while I was gone. Chuck and Donna had been up all night with him.
The migraine came back. We delayed the trip another day. Charlie was seeming better. But he got worse again and I still had a migraine so my mom went without me.
I cried.
A lot.
But I figured it was meant to be. Finally, after five days, I took charlie to the doctor. Had to see "katie". I HATE "katie". But it was her or a stranger, who I could possibly hate. So I gave in. She said to keep doing what we were doing which was clear liquids forever and then slowly introducing food. My Lord! It was awful. One time we went twelve hours on clear liquids, 36 another, then 48. But everytime we'd give him solids he would loose it and vomit and vomit and vomit. I had no idea a little kid could hold so much.
So my doctor called in more steroids and upped my meds and the migraine cycle finally stopped. But...oh, yes...it just keeps coming!...
Although no one else got what ever charlie had, the steroids finally weakened my immune system enough that I got the flu, too. I had a lovely round with that and dehydration, which always gives me the greatest migraine. By greatest, I mean awful.
So in the worst of that, the boss man here at the retirement center asked to meet with us. I told him I had the flu, but I don't think he cared much. So he starts off telling us how great we're doing. So I hand him a list of all the things that have been wrong around here lately. He looks it over. Then, he tells us they are going in a different direction and are having the maintainance man also move in and be the resident manager. So we have to leave. He actually wanted us to leave in 30 days. I said absolutely not. My therapist would be so proud of my assertiveness. I think if we have to give them two months notice that they should have to do the same.
It turns out that the maintainance man was also the evil boss lady's son in law. Surprise, surprise. (I'm being sarcastic again.) So, you can put two and two together.
Anyway, so now we're homeless in one to two months. We've been scrambling to meet with mortgage people and a real estate agent.
Charlie and I are better. That's great.
Donna healed quickly, too. She was home within a week of the surgery and even drove down to MO to stay with her cousing for a while. That's really great!
So, that's where we're at. We're trying to hold up under the down pour.
I'm actually really okay with all of this. I feel completely comfortable that everything is going to work out with the whole finding a place situation. The only thing that is completely stressing me out is the migraines. I don't have much I can take and it leaves me feeling panicky.
Well, I have to get back to building. The water's rising fast.

E is for elephant

I know I'm fat.
All my life, I thought I was fat. I was ashamed and disgusted with myself. My sister Sarah would try to tell me that I was not fat, but she was just being kind. I couldn't fit in her clothes one leg at a time! So I wore baggy clothes and felt like marshmallow man. Then I grew up and really got fat and understood that all those years I had been a fat girl in a good size girl's body.
So why do I see myself as thin now? I know I can't be thin, but I'm amazed when I pick up these huge pairs of pants and they don't fit me. I can't imagine why they wouldn't. If I look in the mirror, I think I look the same as I always have. Maybe a little bigger here or there, but overall the same. But when I go to do things that I used to be able to do, I'm shocked that I can't do them. I tried standing on my head, but couldn't even begin to lift my fat butt off the floor. I'll try to reach under the car seat and either be stopped by my gigantic tummy or when I get out to try a different approach, get stuck between the seat and the dash.
Last Sunday, I was acting out something that had happened in my life with the kids. I was leading them while they were blindfolded. I went to crawl under a table, and I got my big fat butt stuck between the legs. The kids had a great laugh about that, but I wanted to cry. So I laughed, too. I couldn't get it out of my head!
Two days ago, I was filling out a questionnaire to qualify for a sleep study. They wanted to know my BMI (body mass index) I guessed I was about a 33 but used their chart to be sure. When the number came back, I was so upset. 40!!!!!!!!!!!! I went back and saw that I didn't qualify because of that. I prayed there was something wrong with their machine.
Yesterday, I was doing some research for a friend. There was a site that had some useful information for my search and it also had a BMI calculator. I entered my stats. 40 AGAIN!!!!! I looked up what 40 meant.
It's in the worst category. The worst! I'm with the 1000lb man on TV and the 700lb man on Jerry Springer.
I'm an elephant.
aNNa

Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down!

I thought my fight with the food poisoning was over, but of course it wasn't. Life just always wants to give us that little bit more. The concrete pills worked great. After two of those I didn't poop again. Still haven't! They worked a little too great. The evil breeding inside my gut couldn't find its way out anymore, so it turned around and headed back the way it came. Oh, Lord! Throwing up is the most evil thing on earth! I dry heaved and dry heaved and cried and cried and woke chuck up and woke him up again and cried and cried and then vommitted and vommitted and wondered exactly how much rice I had eaten for dinner. I started shaking and sweating from the withdrawals of not keeping my medicine down.
So that morning, Tuesday, I went in to my doctor's office but saw another doctor. He wanted to give it another 24 hours. My mom set him straight by informing him that the course of inaction would land me in the hospital that night or by the very latest, the next morning from the migraine alone, not to mention the dehydration. He agreed and after consulting with colleagues, decided to give me an IV and some antinausea stuff (mine was obviously not working). That would've been great if they could've got an IV! So they gave me a shot in the butt and sent me to the hospital to the infusion unit to get an IV. Those nurses got it right away. I couldn't believe how much better I felt from the fluids and the shot. It was like someone was recharging some battery inside me or infusing me with life. I wished that all the cancer patients that were there could have been cured as easily.
So, I was afraid to eat real food until yesterday when I kinda just ate a lot of junk. I ate nachos and a cookie and a hamburger. I wouldn't recommend the...well...any of them, really. I think I could've eaten more than bagels and potato soup, but maybe should've started next with a scrambled egg or something like that. I'm not puking so it must not be too bad.
Emma is sick now. She started throwing up thursday and had a rash. Mom took her in yesterday and she has strep and scarlet fever! So I'm waiting for all the yummy goodness to be caught by all of us. Emma is starting to feel better, though, and that's what's most important. She was so miserable and I felt so bad for her.
Charlie is into spinning. Charlie loves to spin. He spins and spins until he can't stand up straight or even sit up for that matter. So he spins and spins, falls over, laughs cause he can't get up or if he can get up, tries to see how far he can run before he falls over again. When the dizziness wears off, he spins and spins some more. It's like he's getting high or something. My kid is going to have brain damage, if not from the spinning, from all the falling. Kids aren't the brightest, are they?