Hello Insomnia. You Are Not My Friend.

I’ve tried to get rid of you with Restoril. I’ve tried to get rid of you with Lunesta. I’ve tried to get rid of you with Ambien. I’ve tried to get rid of you with valerian. I’ve tried to get rid of you with melatonin.



This Is One Of Those Days

About 2 am, or maybe it was 3, I woke up with excruciating tooth pain. This is not surprising, due to my lack of general tooth care, however I was hoping I’d be able to hold out until later. Oh well. I knew that one of my teeth was dead, and after having four root canals, I knew I was due for another one.

Sure enough, I went to the dentist today and was told I needed a root canal. Fortunately, I also needed a new crown and a filling on that same side, so they went ahead and started all the work. Unfortunately, they had to stop because I ended up being there at closing time. Sooo I get to go back on Monday for them to finish the filling and the two crowns worth of prep, then go back again after that when the crowns arrive. In the meantime, one whole quadrant of my mouth is full of temporary material that I can’t chew on.

I forsee a lot of ramen in my immediate future. They gave me a prescription to oxycodone, which definitely helped to blunt the ache in my jaw, and after a 2 hour drive in Orlando Rush Hour traffic and another 20 minutes of waiting at Walgreens, I was finally able to stumble into the house and take one. It’s an odd feeling when half of your face is numb, yet the pain in your jaw is definitely present.

I took a little nap from about 8 pm to 12:30 am. About 1, my husband decides he’s going to bed, and mentions to me that the Little Man is still awake and kind of tugging on his ear (uh oh), so I go and check on him. He’s burning up, so I get a thermometer. 101 degree fever. I ask him (via sign language) if he hurts, and he points to his ear. Hoo boy.

Fortunately, I have some baby ibuprofen, the kind that comes with a cup. I pour out the dose and give him a little, and he signs and says “more”. No struggle to get this boy to take medicine, at least. Then he wanted to get into our bed instead of his bed, so right now he’s tucked in in the middle of the bed. Thank goodness for king size beds. Plenty of room for all three of us, and a dog, if we had one. As for me, I’m wide awake. The pain is tolerable, but I know I need to go to sleep, and I can’t take my usual tylenol PM.

It might be a long night.

So Very Small

Every time I read one of the recent posts by Fatty, I want to come here and write something profound. But each time I try, it ends up being hollow, forced and/or fake.

How do you tell a total stranger how much your heart aches for his wife and family? How do you tell someone how moved you are, not only by what he’s going through, but by sharing it with us, the faceless internet?

My thoughts and prayers are with Susan, Fatty, and their children.

I can’t say more than that.

Insults and Confrontation

I’ve never been good at confrontation. Even things that would be considered minor leave my hands shaking and my heart pounding. Case in point today.

I play a game called City of Heroes (side tangent, I want to have Maelstrom’s babies). In this game, there are good people, and there are the typical internet jackasses. Right now there is an event going on that involves aliens bombing parts of the city and large group fights. This causes me to get randomly thrown together with strangers, something I don’t really enjoy.

On this particular fight, I invited several random people to my team to increase the chances that they would get the badges that they needed. One random person whom I’ll call the Jackass, continuously told us what to do. Get the heavies. Get the heavies. Focus on the heavies. Now, I could understand it if people on the team were new, but we were all experienced players, and the person who was doing to ordering was a beginner. Finally I got fed up and said “We know, you don’t need to keep telling us.” He replied, “Does it bother you that much?”

Well, yes. But I simply exercised my group leader right and kicked him. A couple minutes later, this conversation ensued:

[Tell] Jackass: wow haha
[Tell] Jackass: fa.g
[Tell] –>Jackass: That’s the best you can come up with?
[Team] CBRXX Blackbird: He called me a fag in tell LOL
[Tell] Jackass: Yes, you are homosexual. Its the most rational solution. Fag.got
[Team] Random teammate: report him then

At this point I relay what he said to Mr. Hottie, who tells me “Tell him you are!”

[Tell] –>Jackass: You’re absolutely right. I love the cock. I can’t get enough of it. AAre you single?

I get nothing back, but then a couple minutes later, this happens:

[Broadcast] Jackass: CBRXX Blackbird has something rather large lodged in his a.nus

All of this makes me agree with the formula for internet jackassery.

Now, the problem with all of this is that it made my heart race and my hands shake. I do not like confrontation AT ALL, even when I have Mr. Hottie backing me. I always make him call the creditors because I can’t handle it.

That’s my rant for this evening, we now return you to your regularly scheduled blog.

A Real Pain in the Neck

A few days ago I slept on my neck funny or something. Since then I can’t turn my head to the right without pain. It was bad enough yesterday that I spent the day hopped up on painkillers to dull it. This morning I feel utterly like crap. Nausea and no appetite whatsoever, and aching pain from my neck to my shoulder.

Hopefully the chiropractor that Mr. Hottie and I went to last year will be able to see me today. I don’t want to have to keep taking drugs for this.

Sitting upright is making my arm and shoulder shake. Laying down is just as bad.

On a totally unrelated note, it looks like I need to move some posts over again, so don’t be surprised if the rather large gap between May and June starts to fill in.

Beating My Head Against The System

When Hottie and I got married, I opted not to change my name at the time. I had my reasons, none of which I can remember right now except for the “I’m not so sure I like my first name with your last name” one, and the “maybe I’ll use an awkward and unwieldy hyphen-name instead” one. Hottie didn’t care one way or the other, and gradually I started using his last name on more and more things (bills, internet things, checks, etc) until finally, after two years, I decided to do the big social security card name change.

Well, wait, not really. I’m getting ahead of myself. A few weeks ago I sent out for some information from various online colleges to see about going back to school. After a horribly amazing crash and burn failure at University of Phoenix, I’ve been very leery of starting back up again. (It was college math 2, by the way. Math is my nemesis, and anything beyond simple addition and subtraction makes my brain explode.)

Instead of simply getting some information from Kaplan University, I found myself being herded (much like University of Phoenix) into enrollment and registration and class starts next week and holy hell aren’t you guys even going to buy me dinner first?

Needless to say, I dug in my heels a little bit. I just wanted INFORMATION. I wasn’t sure I was ready to go back to school yet. After much harassment and many calls from one of my advisors I finally got around to doing the paperwork necessary to start my GI Bill up again. Except, whoops, there’s something wrong with my last name! I enrolled and sent all my various paperworks (transcripts and DD-214) with my ‘new’ last name. My GI Bill is attached to my social, which is attached to my ‘old’ last name.

See, I really didn’t decide to get my social security card changed, it was kind of decided for me. No problemo! I was willing to do it now since I’d been using Mrs. Hottie for the past year or so. Except I couldn’t find our marriage certificate. We -are- married, right? I’ll just get a copy from the office that’s way downtown and hey we only have one vehicle now but I really don’t feel like traipsing all over town to get this stuff done right now so I’ll wait until tomorrow.

Or the next day.

Meanwhile, my advisor is calling me daily wanting to know if I’ve gotten my paperwork taken care of because I’m supposed to start on the 25th. “Yes,” I say, “I can’t do it today because the social security office closes stupid early and I don’t have the truck.” So finally, today Hottie braves downtown (bless him) to go pick up a copy of our marriage license, comes home, and then I take him back to work and head down to the social security center.

Tangent: My former boss married us in his office. True story.

I get to the center (the one that closes at 3:30) thinking this is going to be an in-and-out situation. I didn’t even bring the diaper bag. As soon as I walk in I realize how wrong I was. The place is packed. Wall-to-wall people. It’s so noisy I can’t even hear myself think, and my vision starts to narrow a little.

I should mention here that a few years ago I was diagnosed with social anxiety disorder, one of the reasons I wanted to go to school online. I do okay in small groups, but as soon as the number of people starts to become more than I can count easily, I start having problems.

It’s so confusing that all I can do is go and get an application and retreat, clutching it in one hand while I try to make the fastest exit possible while hiding behind my son. I sit in my truck for about 5 minutes before I’m calmed enough to drive. I even called Hottie and told him, “I can’t do this. I can’t, there’s too many people. I’m just going to mail it in.” Fate was laughing at me at that point. HA HA HA.

When I got home I looked up the social security information to find out what I needed to send, etc etc. Then I spotted this little gem:

Take (or mail) your completed application and documents to your local Social Security office.  If you live in the New York City metropolitan area, Las Vegas NV, Orlando FL, or Phoenix AZ you may need to apply in person at your local Social Security Card Center. 

Guess which one of those areas I live in. And did I mention that the card office I went to is the ONLY one in the area, and they service 3 counties? On top of that, after I apply, I STILL need to wait for the application to be sent to the main office in Baltimore, and then get approved and all that jazz. So it’s still not going to be a fast process.

I call my advisor and leave a message saying that I don’t think I’ll be starting school next week.

I think I need a beer or three.

I’ll be going first thing Monday morning, this time with Hottie so he can be my bulwark against all those people. I’m so lucky to have him to combat all my neuroses.

As a total aside, WordPress does NOT like the word “with”. It keeps trying to make it “WI th”.

A Little Man Update

Today we went to Arnold Palmer Hospital for Little Man’s MRI. Originally we’d been scheduled in January, and decided to try a different place, but they called us and asked us if we wanted to come in sooner. Hell yes.

It was a bit rough for Little Man and I, as he was not allowed to have anything to eat after midnight (I did give him a snack when I went to bed around 2 am, shhh). We got up early and drove to the hospital around 830. When we registered, we were told our cost would be $500. Hottie and I kind of looked at each other, and we’re like… you can bill us. Heh. This brings our current medical bills up to about $3000, which is all right since our actual running cost is about 23 grand. Good thing we have insurance.

After we registered we spent a few minutes in the waiting room while Little Man fussed and complained about being hungry, and I felt … well I wasn’t nervous exactly (at the time I had been told the sedation would be oral) since I’ve had an MRI and I know it’s no big deal. There was also blood to be drawn which bugged me but I knew they’d do it while he was asleep.

Except that it turns out he’s getting an IV instead. Yie! They prep him for that and of course he is mightily upset, but calms down after everything is in place and he’s allowed to move his arm around again. They lead us to the MRI room, and I’m cradling him in my arms. They say “Okay, this stuff works pretty fast, so don’t worry when he goes limp.”

He was fussing a bit when they injected the anesthesia, but about 2 seconds later his eyes rolled partially back and he was out like a light. We handed him over and went back out to the waiting room where I (ha ha!) tried to write. Failing that, and miserably, we opted to drown our nervousness with chocolate glazed krispy kreme. Now, I had not had a krispy kreme donut since before I quit working at Rollins, and let me tell you, it tasted damn good. I guess once a year for one of those isn’t bad.

Afterwards we went back to the waiting room and I again tried to write, and suddenly realized I had my story timeline screwed up and that the main villain wasn’t really supposed to be there. Crap. If I could write an autobiography it might be different. Anyway. I tried to keep busy and distracted, and time did pass a little quicker than I expected. The RN came out and got us, laughing. “He’s breastfed, isn’t he.” Apparently he’d been trying to accost one of the nurses for teh boobahs.

We get to the recovery room, and here is my little boy all covered in wires and doodads and not one but -two- IVs. He had a blood pressure cuff on his leg, an oxygen meter on is big toe, and three monitors stuck to his chest, along with the IVs. Poor thing. He was very drowsy and complaining a bit so it took him a little to realize the snack bar had arrived. After he figured it out, he quieted down and pretty much ignored everything that was going on after that. 

He started to wake up more and was awake enough to tell the nurse just how pissed off he was when she took the IVs out. He chitchatted a little bit as we were leaving, and then promptly fell asleep again once we were on the road.

He’s awake now and having a bit of cereal, and jabbering and seems fine. We’ll hopefully have some results by the middle of next week.

The physical therapist and occupational therapist are going to call us to make their appointments, but our testing is done for now.

Thanks everyone for your continued support, well wishes, notes and donations. We really appreciate all of you. 

Now we just need Hottie to get another job, or else we might end up moving to Alabama a bit sooner than we planned heh

/mourn Michael Crichton

This journal is 4 days late but I’ve been busy.

Michael Crichton – Jurassic Park, Sphere, Prey, Andromeda Strain, Eaters of the Dead, and a slew of other awesome books and movies – passed away on the 4th. Damn, damn, damn. He will be missed.

NaNo is kicking my ass, but via a couple of tricks I’m starting to climb back on top of it. Unfortunately one of those tricks involves actually hand writing things. I never realized how bad my handwriting was until I tried to transcribe it onto the computer. Eesh.

My ex had the good sense to let me slide on child support for these two months since Hottie is down to one job. He interviewed for a position the other day which could work out. Once again, I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high.

My kids are here this weekend. Little Man loves ’em. They drive me insane. It’s all good.

Thanks to those of you who have donated (or tipped for shows), we really, really appreciate it. Every dollar goes towards copays and other med bills for Little Man.

That’s it for now, woo.

I Just Love the Medical System

I want to write this while it’s still fresh in my mind. I think my give-a-damn is busted.

Last week, Little Man had an X-ray of his hand, and blood drawn for some organ disease panels. We still haven’t heard anything back from them.

We also tried to get an MRI set up for Little Man. No go, he’s too small. “We can’t do an MRI on a child that size, you need to try Winnie Palmer.”

Okay, call Winnie Palmer. No openings until DECEMBER.

Call another hospital, manage to get an appointment for today. On Friday I preregister and somehow pull 80 bucks out of my ass to cover our portion of payment. Give the nurse all the info, yes we have a prescription, it says “Brain MRI, spasticity in the lower extremities.” Yes, his birthday is 1/2/08.

Get there today, check in. Oops, forgot the scrip. No worries, the nurse calls my doctor’s office to get a copy.


No scrip. “Well they can’t do it without the scrip.”

Okay, I can understand that. But then this happens, “Did it say quick flash or brain MRI?”

*blink blink* Quickawha?

The nurse says “He’s too little for the brain MRI. The doctor should have written for a quick flash because it takes less time, or else he’s going to have to be under anesthesia.”

So, not only could they not do it because I didn’t have the scrip, they couldn’t do it even if I DID have it, and even if Little Man’s doctor’s office got off their butts and faxed over a copy. Why didn’t they tell me this on Friday, instead of making me drive down there on $3.75 a gallon gasoline for a wasted trip?

Now I have to call Little Man’s doctor tomorrow, set up another appointment when I can go down and get ANOTHER prescription AND hopefully find out what the heck is going on with his hand, not to mention the results of the blood test. If someone is going to stick needles in my son, I want it to be worthwhile!

Yet despite all this I really can’t muster up the energy to be angry or anything else. Should I be raising a fuss? I know some women who raise hell when their children are involved. I guess my give-a-damn is just taking this as another stupid part of the stupid way America’s stupid medical system works.

PS – I started to wonder if maybe I -should- have done the cord blood thing.

There Is Something Wrong With My Son

I’ve been writing this blog entry in my head since yesterday. It should have had some catchy title like “9-Month-Old Turns Into Beaver, Gnaws Off Boobah” or “Hey, What’s THIS Cord Do?” or even “Baby Defies Physics – Teleports Across Room”.

In it I would tell about how my son gave his daddy a birthday present by finally cutting a tooth on that day – and biting my finger (and later my boobah) to prove it. I would tell about his fauxhawk hair that is constantly sticking up, and how much he looks like his daddy. I’d say that he’s finally saying “ma-ma-ma” and “da-da-da” but doesn’t mean it yet, but he does turn his head when his name is spoken. I wouldn’t forget to mention that he’s able to pick up a piece of finger food and propel it more or less to his mouth.

Instead, “There Is Something Wrong With My Son”. I’ve just become one of ‘those’ parents whose blog is no longer about the simple joys of rearing a child – the sleepless nights, the frazzled mornings, the zombie diaper changes – but instead about the simple joys of rearing a child With Something Wrong With Him.

Now, granted, it’s too soon to say EXACTLY what is going on with Little Man, but there is no doubt there is something amiss. To my chagrin, by going back and looking at videos and pictures I shot months ago, I realize that this is something that has been going on since June at least. I just didn’t notice because it never occurred to me to think my child was less than perfect. Also, Little Man wasn’t crawling at the time.

Little Man can’t straighten his legs. When he’s picked up, he keeps his legs tucked up. He won’t bounce or try to stand. The little things he did that I found so endearing were actually a Sign of Something Wrong – the way he would put his forward knee into my hand like a stirrup when I held him on my side, and the way he puts the bottoms of his feet together, and the way he crawls with his feet up in the air, instead of along the ground. Now I question every cute thing he does. Is that a Sign of Something Wrong?

The pediatrician is calling this “spasticity”. Now, I’ve looked that up, but after the first couple of hits I stopped looking, because if I read too much more, I’m going to be blaming myself for every time that Little Man fell off the bed.

Who am I kidding? I already do. I feel like this is completely my fault. Preventable, if I’d been a better mother, if I’d kept him in a crib instead of co-sleeping, if I’d checked on him more and made sure he wasn’t slowly creeping towards the edge of the bed, if I’d taken more vitamins, if, if, if.

There are too many if’s for this post, so I am going to end it here. Thanks for listening.

PS – If the struggle we’ve had today with simply trying to get all these tests and appointments scheduled is any sign of things to come, I may very well go completely grey in the next few months.

« Older entries