Whiner Wednesday: April 3rd Edition

I started working out a gym about a year ago...I go five days a week, Monday through Friday, and spend 45 minutes huffing and puffing and sweating and grunting, all in an effort to fight gravity and fight aging, with every bit of effort I can give. My trainer is an ex-Marine, and he likes to pretend that we’re all brand-new recruits going through boot camp, rather than a bunch of middle-aged women who haven’t seen their twenties in...well...over twenty years.

Sometimes, when he tells us to “Drop and give him twenty” - or something along the lines of - I will protest, half-heartedly, with groans, sighs, and curse words said under my breath. He and I finally came to an arrangement where I am allowed to whine only on Wednesdays - “Whiner Wednesday” - as I call it - and it works out well. He doesn’t have to listen to me protest the other four days of the week, but I can let him have it on that one, glorious day that comes mid-week. It’s a win-win.

So, in that spirit - I’m going to do a Whiner Wednesday post today...talk about what is going on my life this past week...and perhaps groan, sigh or cuss under my breath - but also post when I think things are positive....

So, without further ado, here we go...here’s how the past week has gone:

What I’ve Been Doing

Whew. A busy week.

Hubby and I celebrated our 20th anniversary by heading to the place where it all began, the Grand Street Cafe, where we had our first date. We had a delicious dinner with a yummy appetizer of potato skins, that didn’t look like any potato skins I’VE ever had before. But they were Nom Nom Nom DELICIOUS!!

Seriously - does that even LOOK like potato skins??!! But Oh. My. God. They were sooooo good. I think I licked the plate.


That evening, Hubby presented me with 20 gorgeous coral roses - one for each year we’ve been married. Awwww. He so sweet.

Over the weekend, besides watching some of the March Madness of NCAA Tournament Basketball (and here I MUST insert, “Go War Eagle!!” Yes, my beloved Auburn Tigers have made it to the Final Four - squeeeeeee!!!), I spent some time with girlfriends. Sunday morning was brunch with unlimited mimosas at a local restaurant:

That evening, I spent some time with a good friend, Robin, who I see on a regular basis to discuss our passions: running, Disney and our family. Robin lives not too far from me, but I met her in an online Facebook group dedicated to running and Disney. It was bizarre to find out she lives within five miles - and is about my age - and so we make it a point to get together once a month and discuss our next races, or our next Disney trip - or just life. Girlfriends are the best.

Today, I had lunch with another girlfriend, who I met 15 years ago, and who I try to see as much as possible - but because of life, sickness, appointments, work, etc - I haven’t seen in six months. We were LONG overdue - so we had a lot to catch up on. Sorry, waiter - I left you a good tip since we took up the table. Hee hee.

What Book I Am Reading

The book I’m currently reading is called, “The Elephant in the Room: One Fat Man’s Quest to Get Smaller in a Growing America”. The author is Tommy Tomlinson...and I am seriously hooked. This guy can REALLY write a sentence - and I find myself chuckling out loud as he paints pictures with his words. A good read, so far - I recommend it.

What I Am Watching

My guilty pleasure has been binging on “Santa Clarita Diet”, which can be found on Netflix. It stars Drew Barrymore and the always-gorgeous Timothy Olyphant - and is the sick-but-funny chronicles of a suburban mom who turns into a zombie. It’s hysterically funny in a sick, twisted way, and I can’t stop watching. I recommend it.

What I Am Listening To

Old school. My favorite jam lately has been rocking out to The Steve Miller Band. I saw them in concert many, many years ago, and they’ll always be a favorite. Yes - I recommend. Obviously...hee hee!

How I Am Feeling

Well...if you were wondering when the whining was going to start, HERE WE GO!! Woot woot! Are you excited??!!

First, my allergies. Or sinuses. Or whatever it is. I DON’T KNOW AND IT’S DRIVING ME CRAZY. I. Am. Miserable. I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep. Headaches, drainage, sinus pressure - medicine, humidifiers, Kleenex - an endless carousel of dealing with some unnamed beast, and I am frankly tired. So, tomorrow I am heading to an ENT for some answers. I am hoping, praying and praying some more that I am not looking at sinus surgery FOR THE SECOND TIME. Gah.

Second, my elbow. I hurt it. It hurts. It doesn’t stop hurting. It has hurt for months. So - I broke down and saw an orthopedic doctor last week, who said, “Physical therapy for YOU!” And so that is what I’ve been doing. And that hurts. Gah. But I am hoping, praying and praying some more that it will make it better.

I thought that physical therapy for an elbow would be a piece of cake. I thought wrong. It kicks my butt every time I go in. Today, I got a nice steroid patch on my arm, so we’ll see if that brings some relief.


So - that’s my week. No more whining. Really, other than my nose and my elbow, there’s not much to whine about...and I’m hoping to get those fixed, right??!!

Here’s to another week, and here’s to doctors, medicines, drugs, and spring. Whee!

I’ve Got the Groundhog Day Blues

Do you remember that classic movie with Bill Murray, “Groundhog Day”, where he wakes up every single day, only to discover that he’s repeating the same day - over and over again?

I kinda’ feel that way - that I’m living in my own Drama Queen version of “Groundhog Day.”

Six years ago, I had sinus surgery - which was HORRENDOUS. Remember THIS post? All I remember is I felt like I had just run into a concrete wall with my FACE at 100 mph. For days. After the brutal surgery and recovery, I actually felt that the surgery was a huge success...as in, no more constant sinus infections and sinus pressure and chronic sinus pain.

Life was good, and I was SOOOOO relieved to not be living through THAT nightmare any more.

But.

I may have spoke too soon.

In the last year, I have had not one, not two, but THREE confirmed sinus infections.

THREE!!!

IN ONE YEAR!!!

Gah.

After the third infection, I wailed to the doctor, “But...but...but...!!! I CAN’T be having sinus infections! I had sinus surgery!!”

And my doctor looked at me in pity, and said very slowly, like she was speaking to a three-year old child, “Honey...sinus surgery isn’t permanent. It isn’t forever. Whatever it was that caused you to need the surgery in the first place is most likely returned.”

I looked at her in horror.

“WHAT??!!”

She said, “You’re most likely going to have to have the surgery again. It’s not that unusual.”

I seriously burst into tears at that moment. I’m not kidding. I did. I really did.

The thought of going through that torture - AGAIN - is more than I can bear...and yet...I don’t know if I can keep having sinus infections and sinus issues, especially when they crop up when I’m supposed to be getting onto a plane, and God knows you can’t fly with a sinus infection, so now I have to either cancel a trip, or drive, which sucks - and so on, and so on.

Last week, I flew back from Florida.

And then promptly was felled with a sinus infection.

WHY IS THIS MY LIFE??!!

Sigh.

So...I now have to seriously ponder the benefits (and negatives) of sinus surgery - AGAIN.

The positive: it definitely helped me breathe much easier the last few years...and no sinus headaches or pain. No earaches. Flying was amazing. I could sleep through the night without waking up, feeling like I was suffocating.

But the negatives? Intense, intense pain for about a month. And loss of taste buds. I lost most of my taste & smell after the first surgery - about 100% right after the surgery, but about 25% of that has returned. I don’t smell things - or taste food - like I used to. My palate is a joke. Cinnamon? Can’t smell it. Flowers? Can’t smell them. Skunk? Can’t smell it. Farts? Fart away - I can’t smell them. (See - I always try to find the bright side.)

What if I have the surgery - again - and lose permanently the 25% I still have?

It’s not any fun when most food & drink tastes like cardboard. Or you can’t smell a newborn baby. (Weird. I know. But it’s a mom thing.)

What do I do??!! What do I do??!!

Sigh.

Rude, Much??!!

Sometimes, the things in life that are “supposed” to make our lives easier, actually lead to more frustration.

Such as autocorrect.

Today, I was texting with one of my sons...I’m trying to set up a photo shoot with my kids, and I was attempting to tell my son the location of where I wanted the photo shoot. There’s a beautiful park close to our home, with an enchanting waterfall...the park is located at the corner of two streets, Pryor and Chipman Road.

Which is what I was trying to type.

Autocorrect wasn’t having any of that, though - “Chipman” doesn’t exist in Autocorrect World, as I found the hard way:

How rude!

I really DO hate autocorrect sometimes.

Sigh.

Garmin Half Marathon: A Review

Sometimes, life hands you a good kick in the a$$.

And sometimes, that kick in the a$$ is needed.

*


After setting a PR (personal record) the week prior at the Rock the Parkway Half-Marathon, I’d been somewhat cocky…struttin’ around like Foghorn Leghorn in a barnyard of chickens…ready to take on the running elites, confident that I was ready for the Big Leagues of Marathon Racing.

Ha.

A little setback, otherwise known as the Garmin Half-Marathon, happened, bringing me back to reality with a cold, hard “plunk”. A cold, wet splash in the face – literally - but very much needed.


Flying Monkeys…bah. I hate Flying Monkeys.


So.

The Garmin Half-Marathon, which was set for Saturday, April 18th, was Part 2 of the Heartland 39.3 Series…three half-marathons within five weeks that will earn me a huge-a$$ medal, but also some pretty tired legs when it’s all said and done, which will be on Saturday, May 9th.


It's all about the bling...


All week, I’d been watching the forecast for last Saturday, and it was not looking good. As Race Day drew nearer, the weathermen were ominously predicting severe thunderstorms, gusty winds, and pretty much doom & gloom for Saturday morning. Gah. I can deal with gusty winds…I can deal with rain…but what I CAN’T deal with is lightning. Now, I get that MOST people can’t deal with lightning, but I pretty much have a phobia of it. A flash in the sky can pretty much send me into full-blown panic, and the thought of running over 2.5-hours while having a heart attack was not something I was looking forward to.



So, having to not only mentally deal with how to dress for potentially being soaked and freezing for 13.1-miles, as well as how to deal with lightning-induced panic attacks, pretty much consumed my thoughts for the 48 hours leading up to Saturday.


We’d set the alarm to ring at 4:45 a.m. on Race Day, because we’re kinda’ stupid about that, but anxiety, nerves and adrenaline had me wide awake at 3:45 a.m. You can imagine how thrilled I was about losing an hour of sleep on race day. However, looking out in the pre-dawn darkness, I was somewhat relieved to see that the rain had not moved in yet…perhaps I’d luck out and it would hold off until the race was over??




I quickly donned “Flat Me” – the outfit I’d carefully arranged the night before. The bright yellow vest was a new purchase – but I was hoping it would give me an extra layer of warmth in the wind and the rain…as well as giving me some visibility in case the skies stayed dark. The vest was advertised as “glow in the dark” – and as I looked at later photos of me during the race – it DEFINITELY glowed. That sucker was so darned bright that I’m pretty sure the astronauts at the International Space Station could see me.


My eyes! My eyes!


After a 30-minute or so drive, Hubby and I arrived at Garmin International, the site of the Start/Finish line for the race. We were directed to a parking space that was literally 100 yards from the port-a-potties, which was a blessing, as that’s normally my first stop. While heading over to take care of business, I pulled out my phone so I could text Kristin, my BRB (Best Running Buddy), to see where she was…and imagine my surprise when she was literally right in front of me. What were the odds of THAT?? Four thousand runners, and here she was…in my path trajectory!!



Kristin and I made our way over to the Finish Line, where we hooked up with some more friends, Paula and Bill. Introductions were made, and we chit-chatted…all while I was still nervously assessing the skies and any impending danger. Did I mention that I HATE, HATE, HATE thunderstorms??!!


Partners in crime…Paula and Bill...


Here is where I made Mistake #1.

I spent so much time jabbering, that I really didn’t mentally focus on what was ahead of me. I normally like to go over my “game plan” inside my head…where I’ll suck a GU Energy Gel, when I’ll need to slow down or speed up, etc…but that’s all done best when you’re by yourself. Not while standing in a social circle, socializing. While we made our way over to the Start Line, with about 10 minutes before the start of the race, I told myself I’d do a quick mental focus when I got lined up in my corral.


This is when I discovered Mistake #2.

Normally, about 15-20 minutes before the start of a race, I like to nibble on some Honey Stinger Energy Chews. As we walked over to the corrals, it occurred to me that I had left my Stingers IN THE CAR.



This freaked me out a bit. NO STINGERS??!!

Crap.

Oh well. Too late now. Tough it up, Buttercup.

Jumping into the corrals, I observed that a lady next to me had on a shirt that I also own – and it’s one of my favorite running shirts. Well, I HAD to compliment her on her excellent taste in clothing, and soon we were quickly becoming BFF’s. Diana (see, already on a first-name basis!) had driven all the way to Kansas from Georgia to participate in this race. I looked at her like she was crazy, and she explained, “Well – I liked the medal.” I’m sorry, but that made it even CRAZIER to me!! I mean, Flying Monkeys. On a medal. Gah.



As we were talking, here comes yet another friend, Tracy, and again, introductions were made, photos were taken – and I STILL had not gone over my game plan.


Tracy, me and Diana…STILL not focusing here...


“It’s okay,” I thought to myself. “I can still do it during the National Anthem.”

But.

There WAS no National Anthem!!!

Okay, that’s not correct. Apparently, they played it – but they didn’t play it over a public address system…so those of us in the back of the corrals NEVER, EVER heard it. Hubby said that even in the front, where he was, they could barely hear it.

So…as I was chatting with Tracy and Diana, we looked around and realized that runners around us were starting to run.

“Hey!!” Tracy exclaimed. “We’re MOVING!!!”



Well, crap again. No Stingers. No National Anthem. And no Mental Focus/Game Plan before the race.

It was time to run.



I’m not going to go into a mile-by-mile breakdown of this race…suffice to say that it was long. And it was hard. Because it seemed to go uphill…a LOT. More than last week’s race, actually. At race time, the humidity was at 97%, and my lungs felt like I was sucking water every time I took a breath, which, when running uphill, happens a lot. Lots of breaths. Lots of huffing and puffing.

When I finally caught enough breath to somewhat analyze this, around Mile 3, I realized I was running with the 2:20 Pace Group – which is about 20-25 minutes TOO FAST for me. I was so stunned at this bonehead move on my part that I almost literally slapped myself right there. This was a Rookie Mistake – starting out too fast – and I am NOT a Rookie, and should have known better. No wonder I was sucking air – I was running way too fast than what my body had trained for.


I immediately slowed things down – but the damage had been done. My legs were spent. And I had ten more miles to run. Mistake #3.



At Mile 4, my knee was starting to make its unhappiness known – what with the hills and the earlier speed drills – and I instinctively reached into my pocket for my emergency Ibuprofen that I carry.

And it wasn’t there.

I’d lost my little bag of medicine somewhere along the race course.



Mistake #4.

Ack.

At this point along the race, I was somewhat regretting wearing that yellow vest. A fellow friend and runner, Kathi, had suggested that I might get too hot in it, and I was starting to believe she was right. I unzipped it as far as it would go, and doused myself in showers of water every time I hit the Water Station.



By Mile 6, the raindrops started…light, at first…but increasing with intensity. Far off in the distance, I heard the rumbles of thunder. Yikes. It was coming. The lightning was coming.



By Mile 8, I was soaked…what with the rain, and the previous showers I had taken at the Water Station with the Dixie Cups. The wind had kicked up, and any thoughts that I had overdressed with the yellow vest were gone. I was now officially freezing. I was also congratulating myself for perhaps doing the only smart thing of the day – wearing that vest – as it gave me a little bit of warmth.

Mile 8 is where the race course took an interesting diversion…we’d been running along asphalt-coated streets, but suddenly, we were now on a bike trail through a park. The scenery though this area was incredible – trees budding out in beautiful spring colors, a bubbling brook and bridges, etc – but the trail was incredibly muddy AND slippery from all the runners.

It was like running on an ice rink.




I’m not sure how long this trail lasted, but enough to slow me down even more. By this time, I’d pretty much resigned myself that my only goal was to finish, period. Don’t worry about time. Don’t worry about setting any PR’s. Just finish.

By now, I'd settled into a good rhythm. It went something like this:

Run, run, splash, splash, flash, flash, BOOM.





It was my slowest half-marathon to date, but I didn’t care at this point. I was just happy to finish, in the rain, in the lightning, and in one piece. I was wet. I was freezing. I was tired.

And I’d qualified for Half Fanatics, my Bucket List item which was now complete.



Shivering, Hubby and I had just made our way to the car when a HUGE crash of thunder roared in our ears – and the skies opened up to torrential showers. I couldn’t have timed my finish any better – missing most of the worst of it.



In a lot of ways, I’m glad things went wrong at this race. Mistakes we make are teachable moments, and this race was certainly that for me. Things I should know better than, and things I should/could plan better for in the future, will all help me in future races. I’m still relatively a “newbie” when it comes to running, and I hope that my mistakes will help someone else in the future, as well – those “Don’t do THIS” moments are helpful.


Things I Liked About This Race:

1. The incredible volunteers. They were out there, in the rain, and I KNOW they had to be even more cold than we were. Their enthusiasm never wavered – so major snaps to them.
2. The theme: being that we were in Kansas, the Land of Oz, the race was focused on the Wizard of Oz, complete with a Flying Monkey medal. There was some great signage along the route that incorporated themes from the movie, such as courage, heart, etc. The Finish Line had been decked out as a Yellow Brick Road, which was pretty cool. There were also several costumed runners, which made things interesting.
3. Not too many runners. This was a smaller race, and I enjoyed not being surrounded by swarms of people…and we always had plenty of room on the streets to run. No pinch points.
4. The food & beer at the after-party…although I can’t have the beer (due to the gluten), Hubby really enjoyed his. Whole Foods were giving out bags of food at the end, which was incredible. There were also free chicken sandwiches and burgers.


Things I Didn’t Like:
1. It’s advertised as “Wickedly Fast” – but that’s not the case. They need to be honest about the “rolling” hills that are part of this course. It’s not flat. Not at all.
2. The weather – but there’s nothing the Race Director can do about that. That’s just my own phobias, which I need to deal with.
3. The course…that trail was just…gah. WAY too slippery to run on with any decent speed. It slowed a lot of us down.
4. The medal. It has a Flying Monkey on it. The Flying Monkeys used to scare the BEEJEEBUS out of me when I was little, so I’m not overtly fond of this medal.
5. Packet Pick-Up: It was at a Hilton Garden Inn – in the LOBBY. Four thousand runners showing up to pick up shirts & bibs in a small LOBBY is not good. It was crowded and crammed and chaotic. Not very many vendors, either – which that may have been good for my wallet. ;)


Note the back of the shirt: “A Wicked Good Time.”



Ummmm…no. Just no.

Peace.

*Image from HERE

Fighting With My Physician??!!

Let me begin by saying that I hope my Mother is not reading this post.

.

.

.

Because I acted SOOOOO maturely while in the doctor's office the other day…


.

.

.

Okay. Not really.


In full disclosure, it wasn't my fault. Well, duh. It never is, actually. For every single and solitary time that I have, um, misbehaved, I have always, ALWAYS been able to point the blame elsewhere. I know. It's a gift. I can unequivocally, without hesitation, always point out that someone ELSE started it, whether that "someone else" be my little brother, or my baby sister, or in this case…the doctor. It's never me.


I was visiting the orthopedic doctor the other morning so that he could have a look at my bum knee, which is the LAST thing a runner wants to have - a bum knee. Like, ever. In my particular case, my knee has decided in the last three weeks to go all bum on me, and that it doesn't particularly WANT to run a 5k, a 10k, and a half-marathon, back-to-back, in LESS THAN TWO WEEKS. My knee had the past seven months to decide it didn't want to do this, but did it make a peep over those months of training??? Did it ever, EVER give me a hint that it wasn't particularly happy???

Oh heck no. Let's wait UNTIL THE LAST POSSIBLE MINUTE to throw a wrench (literally, it seems) into things.

Gah.



So, anyway.

I'm at the doctor's office.


Yup - those are my legs!!!! Awesomesauce!!!

And he looks at my X-rays, (which, are like, WAY COOL, in my opinion…I can totally GET IT why some people go into Radiology, because looking at bones ((on an X-ray film, mind you - not in real life - eww)) - is like, totally freaking AWESOME!!! But I digress…) and he says,

"Well…I don't see a tear."

And I'm like, "Woot Woot!!"



And he's like, "But that doesn't rule out a stress fracture…cuz sometimes those don't show up on an X-ray."

So I'm like, "Well, but I can still run, right? Even if it hurts? Even with a stress fracture??"

And he's like, "Are you CRAZY??!! I would never, EVER tell a runner to run through pain!!! Especially if it's a stress fracture!!!"


Oh. Well, that sucked. But thinking quickly, I came up with a BRILLIANT argument:

"But what if it's NOT a stress fracture??!!"

I amaze myself sometimes. I should have been a lawyer in a court room.


Not to be outdone, the doctor immediately responds with, "But what if it IS a stress fracture??!!"


So this is when I got totally mature, because, really, this conversation is suddenly taking me back to the days in the back seat of the car, on long car trips, where Little Brother and I would get into the most insane and ridiculous arguments over something so important as to who touched the other first, that could last for hours and hours, with just the two of us going back and forth, back and forth, that would drive my parents so crazy I'm surprised they didn't dump us and abandon us at a gas station…so..I countered with the following:

"But what if it's NOT??!!"

Cuz that's really all I had at this point.

And the good doctor must have had a sibling, as well, that HE'D argued with as a child, as he picked up the thread BEAUTIFULLY, and countered back with,

"But what if it IS???!!!"

"But what if it's NOT??!!"


You get the drift.

It was a thing of beauty, our conversation. Mom would have been so proud.

And both Mom and Hubby could have told the doctor that he was never, ever going to win this argument.


So, anyway.

Bottom line.

I'm running AMA.

Against Medical Advice.

Do you think I should put those letters on my running bib next weekend??? A big giant, "AMA"???

Or maybe tattoo 'em on my Bum Knee.



But just in case Mom IS reading this…eek…don't worry, Mom…I promised the doctor - and I'll promise you - that if my knee gives out during the race…I will quietly take myself off the race course and quietly remove myself to the Medical tent, where I will quietly keep my mouth shut and not argue with any more doctors.

Pinky swear.

My Beef With February

I hate the month of February.

Sigh.

As far back as high school, I can remember lamenting the awfulness that is known as February.

It's just a horrible, sucky month that - other than Valentine's Day, with it's promise of chocolates and roses and such, really has nothing else going for it (with apologies to anyone who happened to be born during this period). Seriously, knowing that it was such an awful month, even God got into the spirit, by only giving it twenty-eight days, as even HE knew that we couldn't suffer through this month for one day longer.

There's no football on Sundays anymore…and baseball has really yet to begin. I'm in full-blown sports withdrawal right now, and try as I might, the NBA games or college basketball games will just not cut it. I want something that's played outside - on a field…not on a court, inside an arena.

The days are getting temptingly longer, but it's still just too darn cold to be outside to enjoy them. During these snowy and frosty mornings, I have to run indoors, on the dreaded treadmill (or "dreadmill", as some call it - for good reason.) My feet are itching to run on pavement, while my lungs breathe in fresh, clean air….

We're at that point in the winter season that it seems to have taken a permanent hold, tightening it's grip on Mother Nature, keeping the trees bare and the grass dormant and the flowers hidden…spring seems so tantalizing close, and yet…so far away.

The lake outside my window seems to have permanently frozen over, and I catch myself checking it every morning, hoping against hope that I'm seeing signs of a thaw…but not yet. Not this week. Not for a few days to come, perhaps.

Sigh.

All I know is…March can come in like a lion…or like a lamb…I don't care, just as long as it comes, with it's promise of spring, sunshine, birds, warmth…and baseball.

Yes. I need those things.

And life will be good.

Peace.

Somebody, Please, Tell Me What Is Going On

See, I KNEW if I posted about the "routine-ness" of my days - that something would happen to bite me in the ass and send my life into a spiral of craziness.

Only, who knew it would be the health of my Dad that would bring this on??!!

My dad will turn 72 years old on Sunday…and although he's not in perfect health, he's managed to hang in there and stay somewhat healthy over the years. Until this Christmas, that is. Right before the holidays, he got very, very ill - chills, fever, nausea, vomiting, and bowel issues. After suffering for several days, he relented to being admitted to a hospital in Kansas City, where he was subjugated to a battery of tests. All of which revealed what was NOT wrong with him, but nothing that said what WAS wrong with him.

Don't you hate that? "Well, we can rule out this…we can rule out that…but we don't really know what it is."

Sigh.

And that's why we pay you the BIG bucks, doctors.

Anyway, he seemed to bounce back after a few days of fluids and antibiotics, so as soon as he was discharged, he and Mom hit the road and drove 1400 miles south to Ft. Myers, impatient to enjoy their brand-new (to them) condo for the winter. When I heard their plans, I was a bit skeptical - wondering if this was the smartest thing to do when one has been so sick - but did they listen to me?

Oh, heck no. Just like I pretty much never listened to them when they were giving ME advice over the years.

Karma.

So, of course, what happens when they take up residence as Snowbirds in the Sunshine State?

Dad gets sick again. Same symptoms. Only, worse. By Monday night, he was so violently ill, that he begged Mom to call an ambulance - which, if you know my Dad, was SO out of character. Upon admission, they found his blood pressure so low that it wouldn't even register on their measuring devices. Into the ICU he went…and when the doctor told mom that Dad's condition was "life-threatening", it was a no-brainer for my siblings and I to jump on a plane Tuesday and fly south to be with them.

They are "guessing" that he has C-diff, a highly contagious infection that can be life-threatening if not treated properly. But they're not positive. And we know that the doctors in Kansas City tested him not once, but TWICE, for C-diff, and ruled it out both times.

So we're at a loss.

Yesterday, Dad was pretty incoherent for most of the day. Today, he seemed to perk up a bit more, and was almost overwhelmed to see that his three kids had traveled 1400 miles to be with him. Tonight, however, he had relapsed a bit, so it seems to be a matter of day-to-day on how he's doing.

This is where it's frustrating…this not knowing…this guessing…this hopelessness and dependence on the knowledge of the doctors treating him. What is it? Why is this happening? How can we treat it? What does the future hold?

Gah.

Dammit. I want answers. I want it fixed. I want to know that when I go back home - and I need to go back home pretty soon, as I have responsibilities and such there that need to be taken care of - that Dad will be okay.

Sigh. We can't always get what we want (with homage to Mick Jagger and the Stones), and that is sometimes the hardest lesson in life of all.

Peace.

Mourning My Losses

Pity the fool who gets between a half-starved woman and her twice-baked potato.

That's a saying, right?

Well. If it's not...then it SHOULD be.


Let's backtrack for a moment, shall we?

Friday night, we celebrated a son's birthday by heading to a local restaurant here in town, The Hereford House. Now - the Hereford House is a steak house that has been in operation in Kansas City since steak was pretty much invented. As in, forever. We don't go often, due to the sticker shock we see while perusing a menu, but the dozen or so times we've gone, it has been an absolute FAVORITE of mine.

I always, always, always begin with the house salad - not that the salad itself is spectacular, but the restaurant has the most amazing salad dressings, literally called the "Yellow" and the "Pink" - and when blended together, create absolute perfection on a bed of lettuce. This mixture is so divine, that I have always, always saved my delicious bread roll just so I can pinch little pieces and then dip in the remaining pink & yellow mixture...squee!

For my entree, I've always, always ordered the bacon-wrapped medallions of beef...they're usually succulent, moist and tender, and drenched in a demiglaze sauce that is to die for. With this, I pair a twice-baked potato that is dripping in butter, sour cream and bacon. Bliss.

For dessert, they have a white chocolate bread pudding, that soaked in rum sauce and torched with a match, melts in my mouth and leaves me perfectly sated.

This is my normal dining experience at The Hereford House.

But...this particular Friday not was not normal. Nope. My NEW normal is Gluten-Free...and this changed everything.

Arriving at the restaurant at 7:00 pm for our reservations, we wait patiently for everyone to show up - there were ten of us in all, celebrating. Once seated, Hubby quickly ordered some appetizers for everyone, and not ONCE did he even consider if it was something that I could eat. So, as trays of stuffed mushrooms and spinach artichoke dip were passed around the table, I shot DEVIL EYES in Hubby's direction, as the waiter apologetically told me none of these particular appetizers were "safe."

Soon, it was 8:00 pm, and we hadn't received our salads yet. I was starving. STARVING, I tell you. To the point that I was about ready to gnaw off my hand and take up cannibalism.

At 8:15, our salads arrived. However, the "Pink" and the "Yellow" are not gluten-free...so I was reduced to a vinaigrette dressing, that tasted pretty much like PURE vinegar. Blah. Gah. It was AWFUL. As hungry as I was, I only managed to choke down about 2 pieces of acidic lettuce before giving up and waiting impatiently for my entree.

Soon, my medallions arrived...with no sauce. Just some dry pieces of leather sitting on my plate. And no divine twice-baked potato, either - as it is not considered "safe", either. Instead, I was given some steamed vegetables.

Bleh.

For dessert, others enjoyed cheesecake and creme brûlée...while I had...nothing. Oh, I COULD have enjoyed some ice cream, but by this point, I was pretty much beyond dessert.

I WAS MAD AS HELL AND I WANTED EVERYONE TO KNOW IT.

Yes. I was mad. I was mad at my circumstances. I was mad that I can't eat what I used to eat. I was mad at the restaurant for not even attempting to serve to the Celiac population. I was mad at Hubby - well - just because. I needed to blame SOMEONE, and he was convenient.

I WAS HAVING A MAJOR-ASS PITY PARTY, AND BIRTHDAY PARTY BE DAMNED.

It SUCKS sometimes having this condition.

So...on the way home, I pretty much blew up at Hubby - it was HIS fault, I decided, for EVERYTHING. Poor Hubby. He got to listen to me vent, and cry, and whine, for a good 90 minutes. It's just not FAIR, I whined. And whined some more. Oh, the drama of it all....

Poor Hubby.

Anyway. I got over it. I know I'll have some good days - and not so good days - on this new lifestyle. It's the nature of the beast, and it will definitely take some adjustment on my part, as well as those around me.

But...in the meantime...I really DO mourn the loss of the life - or food, anyway - that I used to know.

Peace.

What We've Got Here....

The power of communication.


Several days ago, I used my hotel room's one laundry bag and one laundry sheet/list to send an order of dirty clothes out to be washed. They did a wonderful job (same-day service, as well!), and it was now time to send out some more.

A bit of a problem, though - they had never replaced the bag/sheet that I had used for my first order.

So, yesterday morning, I left a brief note for the hotel housekeeper, that read:

"May I please have a laundry bag and sheet?"

When I returned to my room last night, I had exactly that waiting for me:




A laundry bag and a sheet. A BED sheet. Ack.

Obviously, what we've got here is a failure to communicate...can someone PLEASE tell me what that thingy is called - the list of the laundry, with the prices, that you fill out and leave with your bag of dirty clothes?

In the meantime, I not only have to wonder what the housekeeper thought I wanted with an extra bed sheet - but I am totally impressed that she gave me one.

Peace.

The Eyes Have It

There are times in life when being "strong and independent" can pretty much be a bitch.

Or at least very, very stupid.

Case in point: Me.

I don't know where this fierce strong will and sense of independence comes from, but it has gotten me in a few scrapes with the medical community....One such time was exactly ten years ago, when I walked around for two days with a severe case of appendicitis. (In my defense, I thought it was just a really, really, really bad case of gas). Because I was too stubborn to go see a doctor ("I can take care of it MYSELF!"), I just about died.

And then there was last week...when I was finally forced to go to the eye doctor by some friends, after I had walked around for weeks with increasingly blurry vision and painful eyes. My first visit was last Wednesday, when the eye doctor did a very thorough exam, and then said, "Excuse me a moment," as he walked out and brought back two more colleagues. Uh oh. That's NEVER a good sign - when they bring in the troops.

Initially, the diagnosis they gave me was severe corneal ulcers, but they later amended that diagnosis to a "flesh-eating" virus that was eating away at the tissue in the cornea of my right eye...which could lead to blindness.

{faints from shock}

I'll be honest. I love my eyes. I'm rather vain about them. That picture at the top of my blog - of the eye? That looks exactly like my own eyes..."Rainbow eyes" is what a lot of people say when they see my eyes, and I don't really want to see them damaged. Ack.

The cornea specialist was out of town until Monday, so I was monitored daily until her return...at which point, she greatly reduced my fears by revising the initial diagnosis...that had only been a "pseudo" virus, and when I heard her say "pseudo", I immediately asked, "Pseudo is good, right?" She replied, "Yes...pseudo is good. But you're not out of the woods."

To make a long story short, I DID have some dead tissue on my cornea, but not from a virus (but we're not sure from where, actually.) After she scraped off the dead tissue, we're now in the process of trying to re-generate "good" cell growth, as well as to prevent scar tissue from building up on the cornea. I'm on a medicine regime that is crazy - but my vision should come out okay when this is all over.

The specialist slapped me around a bit (deservedly) when she said, "If you'd come in MONTHS ago - when this first started - you would have saved yourself a heck of a lot of time, money and treatment."

"But I thought it was allergies," I said, in my defense..."...and who goes to the eye doctor for allergies??!!"

Apparently, I will need to...because of the damage to the cornea, I will ALWAYS have to go in now when I notice anything slightly out of order with either eye...period. I guess I learned my lesson the hard way...as in, don't be so doggone stubborn and independent that you avoid medical care.






Speaking of medical care - I do want to insert here that I am now exactly three weeks in on my gluten-free diet...and here's the findings, so far:

1. I have had NO STOMACH PAIN AT ALL IN THREE WEEKS!!!! This is huge, folks...HUGE. Before my GF diet, I was to the point that EVERY SINGLE MEAL would have me curled up in a little ball on the bathroom floor, clutching my gut in a pure state of agony and intense pain. Gah. It has been unbelievable to be pain-free, and it's been such a turnaround that I don't even have ANY desire to eat the things that are off-limits now - such as cakes, cookies or breads. I've been finding recipes for GF brownies & such, so I'll still get my taste, if I need it.

2. My energy levels are WAY UP. Seriously...I can wake up now at 6:00 am, and go, go, go until 11:00 pm at night...and no more feeling like a slug. I truly love this new, energetic person, as I hate being a slug - and I can't believe all of the stuff I'm getting done each day!

3. I've lost some weight...not a lot...but every pound lost is a good thing. The weight wasn't the main reason to go on the GF diet, but it's been a nice bonus. I've decided to not focus on the scale - but to focus on eating healthy. I've been back in exercise mode, especially with all of my newfound energy, so I'm sure more pounds will drop off - woot!

4. I'm so enamored of my new GF diet that I'll be starting Hubby & Daughter on it next week...I think Daughter has a gluten-sensitivity, as she sure shows a lot of the symptoms. I'm curious to see if this will help her, as well....It can't hurt, because it's really a vegan-based diet that incorporates a lot of fruits and vegetables, which are nutritious.


So - enough rambling.

I'm now off to to have some delicious gluten-free crackers with some hummus for an afternoon snack - YUM!

Peace.

Miserable Me

I haven't died.

Really.

I AM still alive. Although I pretty much LOOK like death in the above photo.

And although I've certainly FELT like dying over the last few weeks...

...to sum everything up in a nutshell, I got sick...very sick...couldn't get better...saw a doctor...saw another doctor...took lots of pills that didn't seem to work...and I now get to have sinus surgery in a few weeks.

...in the meantime, I cannot fly back home to where my friends and family are...but am "grounded" in sunny southwest Florida as I await my surgery.

...here, I've been resting...recuperating...and writing (just not writing on my blog...which I am so sorry about).

...I've been enjoying the warm weather...the peacefulness...and...that's about it.

...I've been hating the solitude...the disconnection from friends and family...and the frustration of being sick. Still.

That is all.

Peace.