Long Jacket

So, I've already got something to hold over the this next kid's head. Also: thank god it was winter and my coat covers me to about mid thigh.

Before we were telling people I was expecting I was trying to hide (and usually failing) how miserable I felt at times. But other times...
Trigger warning: this is hilarious but disgusting.
We're out to lunch and my stomach/intestines were giving me first trimester nonsense. I went to the bathroom and sat to wait it out. After waiting for a while and nothing happening, everything happened. My stomach revolted and I had a half second to throw myself backwards, bend at the waist and I throw up all over myself. All. Over. I didn't take anything with me to the bathroom (because that's gross) so I was trapped.   

I waited a few minutes until someone else came into the bathroom, and when they finished washing their hands I called out: "excuse me...Um, in the first stall here. Hi, I'm pregnant and I had a bit of an accident..."
I asked a stranger in the bathroom to find my husband (and daughter) in the restaurant, tell him I'm okay, but I need my purse and coat. I thank her profusely when she comes back bringing both, assure I'm okay and thank her again. In my purse I have a plastic bag (to throw up in though lot of good it did me there), wipes to clean up, and my phone to text Mike what the hell is going on.

In the next few minutes I get as much of my lunch off of my clothes into the toilet, bag up all my clothes, and wipe up what the clothes didn't "catch." I button my coat, pull up my knee socks (those were clean), and texted my husband: I'm leaving the bathroom now. I'll meet you at the car. Took a deep breath, grabbed my bags, put my head down and walked out of the McCalisters in just my coat. We're pulling out of the parking lot when I get sick again and throw up out the window of the car. (sorry about that honey...but we're both really glad I made it out the window) And to add insult to injury, I still haven't done what I was waiting to do in the bathroom in the first place!

At home, I take a bath, everything eventually leaves my system in the privacy of my bathroom and I feel better okay enough. The kid takes a nap, and Mike and I settle on the couch to watch football. He asks how I'm doing and I ruefully say: that trench coat fantasy is not what it's cracked up to be.

Feel better

I've heard that morning sickness/nausea is a good sign of a healthy pregnancy.
At least that's what I told my friends who were suffering through pregnancy nausea. Yeah. Now that I've dealt with it, (and fingers crossed -god please fingers crossed! DONE with it) I'm pretty that's just something people say to make you "feel better."
Ugh.

Doctors

Dr. Soc and I were leaving the hospital after spending the afternoon with my dad. As we were walking* towards the garage where our car was parked, Mike pointed towards the rock star parking portion that was closed off with a gate.

mike: I see that on the gate it says "physicians' parking," and not "doctors' parking." So I can't park there.
me: Haha! No honey, you're not that kind of doctor.

--Later that evening as we were having diner at our friends' house --  

me: Cough-cough-cough-cough.
mike: ~exasperated~:  Priya, she has been coughing for 2 months now. Tell her she needs to see a doctor.
priya: You need to see a doctor.
me (between hacks): Hey, Priya is a doctor! Board certified and everything. And technically I'm looking at her right now...so...does that count?
mike and priya: No (emphatically I might add).
me: ~huff~: Fine. Besides, I promised I would never be "that" friend. But if just seeing did count then I could be done with this whole thing because I did marry a doctor and I see him all the time.
mike: Haha! I'm not that kind of doctor!   

*And by walking, I mean scurrying as fast as we could because it was so damn cold.**
**Seriously, in the teens-to-low-twenties-cold. It wasn't us just being lily-livered-southerners-who-think-anything-below-50-is-cold-cold.

Happy New Year

So. My 2014 started off with a bang.
New Years Day we drove to Kentucky to visit my parents and our friends. Saturday we were headed to cinci for a college friends wedding, and Sunday we were headed back to Charlotte. But those plans were scraped because:

My dad was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia.

The day after Mike and I arrived (Thursday), when dad came home from his adult day care, he was moving incredibly slow, barely had any coordination and balance, and he was trembling all over and leaning heavily towards his right side. I hoped that it was just his blood sugar being low due to his diabetes, but the shaking and leaning had me so scared that I feared this was something far worse (a stroke). Dad has lost most of his ability to talk, so even if he did know and could describe what was wrong, he couldn't even tell us anyway. With his doctor's office closed for the evening and the doctor on call being busy when my mom called, Mike and I exchanged and look and decided we were taking him to the ER now.

With a lot of difficulty we got him in the car and with even more difficulty we got him out of it. Dad was like a rag doll at this point, so it took all 3 of us to move him from the car, and even then if it wasn't for the help of a good Samaritan, he would have collapsed on me and than both of us would have been hurt. He was checked in and taken back to an exam room pretty quickly, and then we waited. (Turns out I went to elementary school with the ER admitting tech. She couldn't remember if I was the older or younger one (older), but she did remember that one of us sucked our thumb for a really long time (that was totally my sister).) Eventually from all the tests, blood draws and other hospital stuff, the doctor diagnosed a clear case of pneumonia.

He was given antibiotics and admitted for treatment after that, but he would have to stay in the hospital for at least a few days. And you know, it never occurred to me he would be admitted. Even though pretty much anything with the exception of low blood sugar would probably require hospitalization, it didn't even cross my mind he would have to stay in the hospital for some reason. Mike said that was due to being in crisis mode, we were so focused on finding out what was wrong that we couldn't fathom anything past that point.

I could go on and give more details about the rest of our visit, but frankly I'm so tired and I'll finish up the rest of the story tomorrow. But my dad is recovering very well and he can leave the hospital tomorrow! Yes we were in crisis mode, but all things considered, it was a manageable crisis and it put mom, my sister and I on the same page of dad's care, which is something we have never had before.

So yeah, my dad certainly started 2014 with a bang.

Update 1/10/14:
Dad went home on Wednesday the 8th and he's doing very well. There really isn't much more of the story anyway. We spent the next few days rotating shifts and staying overnight with dad. We decided to not go to the wedding and missed seeing my college friends, but everyone understood and we did get a little more time to see our Lexington friends. And my mom finally, finally has started accepting help with my dad's care. So I'll reiterate that while this was a crisis and really scary, all things considered, things are going to be ok.    

Sick boys

Seriously, I hate sick boys. This seems to be a common complaint between women. As much as we love (in my case, loved) our SO's, they all seem to turn into the biggest baby when sick. Cause you know, "when a man gets sick, the world stops" (Celia Rivenbark quote). Because no one else in the entire history of the world, has ever felt as sick as this pwoor wittle guy.

But do they ever take anything for it? Nope. Cause no one else has ever felt this bad, so clearly there is absolutely nothing strong enough for this sort of agony. They just whimper and sniffle and drive you nuts until you shove a pill down their throat, and while they chase bats in their dreams, you shove things up their nose as payback and because they can't breath from it anyway. (Lori Notaro reference). And yes, I'm sure you feel yucky honey, but take something and cork it (or I'll make you. Either way, you are taking a pill).

My first boyfriend in college admitted that when he was sick, he turned into the biggest baby and wanted to be taken care of. First, I snorted. And then second, said something along the lines of "don't come crying to me. I'll hand you a pill and tell you to stuff it." And a few months later when he did get a cold and subsequently tried to whine to me about it, I shot him a look and handed him some dayqil. And then told him to stuff it. Hey, I did warn him.

Now, I'm not a completely heartless, I did attempt to take care of my ex when he caught my nasty cold. (Hey you know what probably didn't help matters? Hanging out with all your smoker friends with wet hair in December. Just saying.) The same cold that knocked me out for a month. You know, the one I worked 60 hours on, apartment hunted, moved, and Christmas shopped with. But since it was my cold, and I loved him, I let him have the good pills right away instead of trying to pawn off the worthless NyQuil. Though when he finished the entire box in 2 days (he didn't exactly heed the "do not take more than 6 does in 24 hours" warning) and tossed the empty box in the trash, I made sure he had his id, handed him his wallet and keys and told him: no pussy footing around, you buy the real name brand behind the counter stuff. Don't even come home if you buy the generic.

A few months later when I moved out and cleaned the medicine cabinet out, I took every single pill box and bottle we owned with me. (hell, I bought most of it anwyay) I even the bullsh*t NyQuil.

Allergies suck. And itch. And wheeze.

I'm getting besieged by my allergies. Just flat out attacked on all fronts. I'm stuffed up, yet my nose is running, I have a sinus headache, my eyes itch and I'm sneezing a lot. I'm running the gauntlet of symptoms. And it sucks donkey balls. (did that saying ever catch on? It should, I like it)

And nothing I take works. Due to the cornucopia of meth labs (makers would run into a pharmacy and swipe shelves of otc pills in seconds), drug companies altered their formulas and took out the stuff that meth makers use. You know, the part that actually works. So now, all the OTC stuff is utter bull sh*t. And yet I still buy it, thinking fingers crossed it's going to work.

Ok, some drug companies didn't change their formulas and that stuff is sold behind the counter now. You have to show Id, and they keep track of how many you buy and how many times you do. And even though it's the exact same pill that use to be sold over-the-counter, it's a controlled substance now. Ergo: more expensive. I guess since the pharm tech has to hand you something, it ups the cost. Maybe it's a service charge?

But I'm miserable this allergy season (this, right here (pointing a finger to emphasize point) is a season I do not like anything about). So I've been taking the rest of my Advil cold and sinus from my last cold to cope. And they're working pretty well. It's because they're good behind the counter pills.

So lesson learned for next year. Pony up, and buy the good drugs. I may have to sign 3 different waivers and promise them my first born, but I don't care.

Stupid meth heads, you ruined it for everyone.

Self Medication

Today at work I know I was crinkling up my nose a lot because I constantly felt like I was going to sneeze. Which is nothing out of the ordinary, I feel that way a lot at work. Because you never know what kind of place the materials are going to. They even go to people with cats. (btw, why does no one believe that I'm allergic? There is a real reason I don't care for cats. I don't like pets that make my eyes water and I have to take a pill to breathe comfortably around) But today my face (especially the inside of my nose) felt itchy too, which is out out of the ordinary. And my hair felt weird and unruly today too, which is just odd in general. I thought I was just tired, which gave me a reason for the clumsy (because who knocks their head on a book shelf? Me.), but that didn't account for the wayward hair or itchy face.

Then it occurred to me, oh yeah, allergy season is upon us (and Kentucky is a hell hole for allergies). I typically keep a couple different types of OTC medication in my purse just in case. What kind of pharmacist/drug dealer would I be if I didn't? I root around in the darkness of my bag an pull out my little pill pack (It's brightly colored so I can find it faster). And along side my generic pain relievers, there's a generic benadryl and two unbranded white tablets in their blister packs. I knew that the benadryl would exhaust me even further that I already was, so I didn't want to take that. That left the two while pills w/no labeling. I flip them over to see if they have a their name on it, but the only words on the back of the pack were a few mgs of loratadine. Which sounded like allergy medication to me. So I shrugged my shoulders and without another thought popped one of them.

My face did stop itching, the nose crinkling stopped some, and my hair feels somewhat normal, so it worked from that stand point. But now I'm even more tired and I have a slight case of cotton mouth. So I'm pretty sure I took an allergy pill, I just have no idea which one.

Dog Days

Today I decided was going to be Bailey Day. The original plan was to just go to the pet store and let her pick out some new toys. Apparently, my dog has an opinion, and I'm going to indulge it. (Cesar Milan, I'm sorry, I do not apply your whisperer ways all the time-I'm a softy for her)

But since it was such a pretty day, though a bit chilly, (yesterday, it hailed) I thought a trip to the dog park would be nice too. I didn't let her stay too long there, because I didn't want her to overwork her knee. She completely spazzes around other dogs, I knew I had to keep an eye on her. She ran and played and sniffed like the kid she is. And while I felt a little bad for not letting her play longer, I knew she would go crazy at the pet store too.

Sheesh, that was exhausting. She wanted to go everywhere and she's a strong thing. I was hoping she would select a toy (by using her non-opposable thumb to point something out), but she was too busy sniffing to pay attention to the whole aisle of toys. So I held up a stuffed skunk (she adored/killed her stuffed platypus) and when she tried to grab it from me, I took that as a yes. And I indulged myself a little and got her a pink collar (Mark wouldn't let me get her a pink one, something about it not being manly? But she's a girl dog! I argued. We both sulked and then agreed on red)

All was well I thought. Silly me, guess who gets car sick? Even though she sticks her nose out the window, I guess it was just too much. Because 1/4 mile from home, her lunch came up. And that stuff went everywhere. So as I'm cleaning it up (and trying not to gag myself), I decided nooks and crannies are only good for an English muffin. I'm not mad at her for getting sick though, she can't help it. But she's so getting a bath tomorrow.

Boo to today

I feel like ass today. My nose is runny, my throat is raw from the runny, and the sneezing isn't doing anything except annoying the f*ck out of me. More bitching:

I went for a long run today, and it was a horrible run. No matter what direction I faced, I was running into really strong wind. And wind may not sound like a big deal, but it took me over an hour to run 4 miles. That's really slow, like retard child slow (I so don't care how un-pc that is). On top of the R.C. pace, I slipped on the one patch of black ice that hadn't melted. I caught myself, but I came down really hard on my palm and bruised it pretty bad. But there's no telltale purple discoloration, nope it looks perfectly fine but I can't even pet the dog w/out wincing.

Because it took fo- ev- er to run, I didn't have time to stretch before I had to shower for work. Does a scalding hot shower substitute for a good stretch? Nope, and I'm paying for that tomorrow when I can't walk. Because I'm already in a self loathing place, I gave myself a once over look before I left. And my suspicions are confirmed, I look and feel like a bloated whale in the most unflattering jeans I own (why do I still have those now I wonder?) It's like a rotten cherry on top.

I should be searching for articles/doing homework, but that's all I did this weekend. And I just don't want to read/write/study anything else. So I'm blogging instead.

Boo to today. I'm going to bed.

Why I love pills

Yesterday morning I woke up with the worst cramps I've had in years. They were debilitating, that's how bad they were. It took every ounce of me to crawl to the bathroom, and find the bottle of ibuprofen. And then I couldn't even pull myself up to turn on the faucet for the sink. So I collapsed back onto the bathroom floor. I managed to crawl back to my bedroom, but by this time, I'm wailing for my mom, who brings me the heating pad and a bottle of water.

Twenty minutes later, the pills kicked in, and the pain went away. Away enough that I could function the rest of the day. But I seriously thought I was going to spend the day curled up the bathroom floor, shaking, sweating, and crying for my mom. Instead, I spent it doing somewhat productive things (like homework) because the drugs kicked in 20 minutes later. And that is why I will always love pills. Over the counter or prescription, I don't care, I love you all.