My nurse is a dumbass Apparently he missed the part of my chart that says “Coumadin”, & dropped a huge, open IV needle straight into my best blood draw vein. Blood started pouring down my arm, leaked down onto my gown, and off my knee onto the floor. The nurse turned turned pale. Watching his reaction made it funny.

Originally uploaded by Valued Sony Customer

Two days ago, Rita and I ducked out for coffee, I ran into the Bitch Scientist while getting said coffee, and we all came back to work to discover that the hospital had laid off 84 people. (For those not in the know, I work in the research institute, and am not part of the general hospital staff.)

Rita noticed that when I saw the Bitch Scientist, I tensed up. Drastically.

What can I say, I was caught off guard. I didn’t expect to see her there.

Anyway, Tuesday was a wee bit stressful.

At about 6 PM, Admin finally let us know that there was an all staff meeting at 8:30 Thursday morning. This would be considered an “ungodly hour” here at the research institute, where people are pretty much allowed to keep whatever hours they want as long as they get their work done.

We’ll get back to the meeting.

Flash forward to yesterday: life around here has been a wee bit stressful, financially things are a little strained at home, and the Bitch scientist and interns have made work a bit more high demand than usual. I’m paranoid about my health, the problems with my meds, and maintaining my weight loss. (I’m currently in the maintenance portion of the program, and apparently I’m not great at it.) So when I walked into fat camp, paranoid that I was going to have gained weight again, I was more than just a little stressed. I was late, and didn’t get weighed in at the beginning, but instead got shuffled off to group therapy. I sat down, and instantly experienced something I could only describe as a blood pressure spike.

I promptly excused myself, and asked to see the nurse to get my blood pressure taken. I’ve had this happen before, but I’ve never been in a place where I could actually check what my blood pressure was.

And apparently I still wasn’t in a place where I could check it. I was promptly asked to have a seat and wait. For about 15 minutes. By the time the nurse saw me, I’d quit having the symptoms, and was just stressed and concerned. She checked my blood pressure which WAS 20 points higher than normal for me, but my blood pressure is so low from the blood thinners that every says the number is just fine. I asked her if I should go to emergency. She told me that I didn’t need to.

For those of you who’ve heard the rant about last October, yes, this is the same nurse who said I didn’t need to go to emergency last time as well. (For those of you who haven’t heard the rant, last time I ignored her advice & went to emergency, I was checked in for a 4 night hospital stay when they found the half dozen blood clots hanging out around my lungs.)

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, ignoring the nurse. When I got out of fat camp (turns out I lost weight this week) I went down to my car, but I could still feel the tension/pressure in my neck & head, and I wasn’t sure what to do. Several semi-hysterical phone calls later, everyone sort of agreed that it would be better for me to go for no reason than be wrong.

Except for my dumbass nurse, the trip was uneventful. I had my first CT scan. I have a picture of my brain and brain stem at home. (If I get a chance, I’ll scan them.) The doctor couldn’t find a damn thing wrong with me.

The assumption is it’s probably stress. Which I have now confirmed.

That brings us back to this morning’s meeting. They talked about what happened at the hospital. They talked about why the current California state budget crisis is at the heart of the issue. (Short version: there’s a shortage of about $10 million a month because Medi-Cal is all jacked up. In that context I can’t believe they ONLY laid 84 people off.) They also how the hospital’s indecision about it where it wants to go in the long term has hindered relationships both for the hospital and the research institute… it was a stressful meeting. Things are not okay. Being grant funded, the first round of cuts for us is tiny, which is good. The problem is that they’re looking at a tremendous cut in grants next year because the available amount of NIH funding has gone down.

In other words, it was the kind of meeting you want to drown the memory of in a bottle of alcohol ASAP.

I spent the whole meeting with a re-surge of pressure in my neck, my head, and, now that I’m looking for it, slightly blurred vision. All the same symptoms I had last night. I had an anxiety attack.

Last night I spent $50 and 4 hours in the emergency room for an anxiety attack.

Dumbass.

What I *should* be doing right now is figuring out how I’m going to pay for fat camp this week.

Instead I’m blogging, so clearly that project is going well.

I kind of don’t care if I can afford fat camp right now anyway. They’ll just give me more ass flavored shakes, and I’m really sick of ass flavored shakes.

Not that I’m quite ready to be done… I love the part where I lost 70 lbs in twelve weeks. On the other hand, I really REALLY adamantly hate the shakes at this point. I’m down to three flavors that I can stand to drink, and two of those are at the point where I can only drink one every other day or so, or else they make me want to puke.

When I get to the point where I can’t drink strawberry anymore I may starve.

At this point, I think I’m actually okay with that.

I guess that question would make more sense if I actually updated about the shit that has gone down since September.

Last we spoke I’d declared war on August and was desperately grateful it was over…

Oh. My. God.

I just realized all I posted was a few lines about the fast.

Nothing about all the shit that’s gone down since I turned 32.

Oops.

The ironic part is it’s spiraled so far out of control that most of it feels like ancient history. Honestly, I think Furina visited about three years ago, not less than two months ago.

So… Since the beginning of August of this year I’ve been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, sleep apnea, been put on a fast (lost 44 lbs in 6 weeks which is *insane*), seem to have ditched the diabetes via the fast, got rid of the sleep apnea by losing 44 lbs, had a 6 week period, had a DNC and endometrial ablation as treatment for the 6 week period, and got a shit load of blood clots as a result of the out patient surgery, resulting in multiple bilateral pulmonary embolisms.

Say that 5 times fast.

For those who aren’t familiar with the term, pulmonary embolism means a blood clot trapped somewhere around a lung. They usually don’t form there, but migrate there. Their presence slows the flow of blood going past the lungs so even though your lungs work fine, you run out of breath because you can’t get enough oxygenated blood out of the lung area to the rest of your body. Bilateral means both sides, in this case both lungs. Multiple is self evident. So basically I have (or at this point, perhaps, had) multiple blood clots interrupting the blood flow around both lungs. This is not the same as cutting off the blood flow. That’s when you die. (See exhibit A: my father.)

Apparently your body can, over time, break the clots down. But to prevent the little pieces of clot that break off from forming new clots, they put you on blood thinners. As of Monday my blood was 4 times thinner than normal. (That’s overkill. It’s supposed to be between 2-3 times thinner. They’ve scaled back my blood thinner.) I get my blood tested about twice a week while they try to get this where it’s supposed to be.

I haven’t been to work in weeks. It’s been so long that I’m actually starting to miss it. I’m supposed to be applying for SDI, but it’s sort of a paper work nightmare, so I have to have yet another doctor fill out yet another form. In the meanwhile, I have given up every fucking vice I have ever had except for gaming. Between the fast (which I am still on, they even let me continue it while I was in the hospital) and the blood thinners, I am no longer allowed to: eat food, drink alcohol, drink caffeine, smoke, or go in hot tubs. Now would seem like the time to discover recreational drugs, but those are verboten as well. That’s where the question of “Where the fuck do you go from here?” comes into play. Vices are more than just a habit or an addiction; they serve a purpose. My addictions function as stress relief. Besides the fact that I have no idea what to do with myself, there’s the issue of I have no idea how to relax without these things.

When I explained this to a coworker who called to see how I was doing, she remarked “I’m glad your getting healthy.” If I could have reached through the phone to smack her, I would have.

But the statement has sort of stuck with me.

If I am getting healthy, even if it’s somewhat involuntary, I suppose it’s time to learn healthy relaxation techniques. (And talk about involuntary. I’ve reached my goal for the bariatric surgery, but I can’t have surgery for 6 months because of the clots. So my doctor wants me to stay on the fast for 6 more months. 6 more months!)

I guess there’s not much more to say. I mean, there’s tons more, but it kind of doesn’t matter at this point. Hell, at this point, I’m not sure what does still matter. And I guess that’s the really big issue. This is supposed to be life altering. And it is. But I don’t quite know how much my life has been altered. So I feel a little lost.

Life is insane, it must be coming up on Samhain.

Yesterday the combination of three days of no real food and the start of my period resulted in a catastrophic meltdown. My girlfriend found me in the kitchen sobbing and laughing hysterically, completely unable to stop. She was very sweet about it, and gave me a hug, fed me lunch, and put me down for a nap. Some days you just need to be babied.

Today I woke up feeling great. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but so far it hasn’t. I actually feel good. You have no idea how odd that is. *I* had no idea how odd it was until I realized it was happening. I don’t think I realized how crappy I felt before.

Oh, and I found unsweetened Scharfenberger cocoa powder, which I am allowed to add to my shakes as it meets the criteria of sugar free, caffiene free, and fewer than X calories per serving. It was expensive, but god was it worth it. Really amazing chocolate flavor is exactly what their chocolate shakes needed.

I do hope the stress dreams about eating food I’m not supposed to end soon. Those are a little weird.

So, I’m not quite hysterical, but tonight I have my first meeting for the Metabolic Nutrition program, which is where I get all my stuff, and starting tomorrow, I believe, I quit eating.

As I said, I’m not quite hysterical, but I suspect I will be in another 6 hours or so.

So, I love the new doctor. She was exactly what I wanted: kind, patient, familiar with the process I need to go through to get this surgery, competent, well spoken, and able to suggest options based on what I told her. No wonder she’s so damn hard to get an appointment with. But oh my fucking god, is she worth the wait.

The whole appointment went so well I came out with a smile on my face, and actually looking forward to my follow up appointment next month.

Until I called my mom and told her about it.

Don’t take that as “I called my mom and she told me how it sucked, blah, blah, blah.” Nothing of the sort.

It’s just that while explaining to her what my doctor and I decided was the best course of action, I suddenly realized what it was that I agreed to do.

That would be a 6+ month supervised medical fast.

That’s right boys n girls, in honor of the green hair, I’m gonna spend 6 months learning how to photosynthesize, or at least that’s what I’m planning on telling my coworkers if they ask.

(Oh, yeah, last night I dyed the hair teal, except the green dye kind of seriously over powered the blue. But it’s really pretty none the less.)

Still, the idea of essentially not eating for 6 months is damn scary. Except for the times when I just sort of wonder if I can functionally quit eating for the rest of my life because then I wouldn’t have to think about what I can or can’t eat. There’s a seriously warped appeal to that idea.

And before anyone freaks out completely, yes, this will be doctor supervised. Weekly doctors appointments and lab work to make sure I’m okay. It’ll be weird, and horrifying, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to be pretty insane for most of it.

But somehow I’m still sorta looking forward to it.

So yesterday I had a “consultation appointment” with a new doctor, and after $10 and an hour of waiting, I spoke to him for 5 minutes. He does sports medicine and urgent care. He doesn’t know jack shit about bariatric surgery and how to get it. The good news is that he was completely up front with this information, and didn’t dick me around hemming and hawing about the whole thing. That beats the shit out of the last psycho bitch I saw. But I shouldn’t have had to go in for an appointment to find this information out. I specifically told the person I spoke to on the phone what I was looking for and this was the best she could apparently do. I’m just a bit annoyed by that fact. On the other hand, he gave me a possible name, and it’s one of the names the clinic gave me before. (The clinic gave me some suggestions after I’d already scheduled the appointment I went to yesterday.)

It’s hard, half the staff seem genuinely incapable of giving me the information I want, and the doctors are literally inaccessible outside these appointments. But there has to be a better way to get this information.

Oh and I found out how much I actually weigh. That was…. special.

mood: wavering somewhere between “blah” and “annoyed”, with occasional “mad cow” tendencies.
music: Black Eyed Peas – Anxiety

I feel like I should post something because things have happened since my last post, and that feels like a shitty place to leave off. But I don’t really feel like posting either.

The day after talking to the clinic, I was able to get some recommendations for doctors to try, and on the 30th I have a consultation visit with one of them to see what he has to say and how I feel about him. This is a good thing.

I need to call at least one other doctor and make an appointment I suppose, but I can’t quite bring myself to care.

I don’t seem to care about much these days. In fact, I think I’m sort of depressed.

Unusual because there’s a LAN party tomorrow.

Maybe that’ll help bring me out of this.

Mood: blah Music: the ticking of the clock. Only one hour of work left.