Miscellanea

I thought now might be a good time to post a few minor updates. It's coming on almost 3am, I can't sleep, so why not!

Bloody well right
Firstly, thank you all for the comments and emails. I appreciate your concern and support.
I am pleased to announce that the period ended with a semicolon, then a few choice parting words, followed by a ellipsis. The weird off-schedule bleeding I had a mere 14 days before was similar, yet shorter. I don't know if I'd rather it drag on for two weeks, or just hemorrhage quickly to an end. Hmmmm. As if I have a choice. I will be going to the doctor in July. Promise.
We call this "menometrorrhagia", for irregular excessive uterine bleeding. Now we just need to discover the reason why. And find a possible treatment/cure. Usually this has involved BCPs or Provera/Prometrium, but if the good doc is willing to examine me for polyps/fibroids/endo, I am so ready.

Oklahoma is O.K.
My parents are celebrating their 50th Wedding Anniversary on July 1st, complete with renewing their vows in a moderately formal ceremony at the the very church they wed in 1955. Mom asked me to be her matron of honor. I am so proud of them. I will be in OKC at the end of this month, for a "vacation" that will be neither relaxing, nor enjoyable, really; but it is not often that an event like this can be observed, and I wouldn't miss it for the world. I moved away a few years ago, ahem, okay... almost 20 years ago... and have been back to visit a total of 4 times. Four. My folks no longer live their either, but there are family and friends that remain, and as I mentioned, this is where it all started, way back when. I only have a short time left to find a suitable dress for the occasion, and get them a GIFT. Oh my, I have no idea what to get them... Any ideas? Seriously, I am soliciting a solution. Please. Something extravagant looking, but on a budget. I love them, but I'm broke.
I'm not overly fond of flying, either, but that's a whole other story.

Pestilence
The coworker I mentioned in a previous post has been retaliatory to just about everyone else in our department. She has been busily writing others up for alleged violations left-and-right. Management has counseled her repeatedly, but no action has been taken. Most of us wish her no serious repercussion, but we just can't seem to understand why she feels the need to be such a backbiter. Harmonious relationships at work seem lost on this woman. If we weren't already short staffed, I could imagine they would suspend her; but you can't just go firing a 'whistleblower' because she is unpleasant. I say that rather sarcastically, of course. We don't use whistles.

Let's see... What else?
My upcoming schedule is rather unusual, what with only one day off at a time here and there. Once I get caught up on my household chores, I hope to get busy adding a link list and replying to correspondence. At the rate I am going, it may be July before I can. I thank you all for your patience. I have "met" some truly awesome people out here in blogland, and I am pleased to call you friends. I swear, you guys are better than real people. "LOL"
Was musing to myself this morning the ratio and proportion of attorneys and Julies out here. Wonder if there's more than a vague coincidence.
Heard the strangest thing on the radio the other day. I listen to oldies and classic rock, with the occasional country thrown in during commercials. I stumbled across a new station we have here in Mayberry, and was absentmindedly humming along to some good ol' Southern Rock, when I realized it sounded somewhat... odd. What the? That's not Mountain... that's... um... my god it sounds like Sabbath, what the hell? Ozzy? No way. YES WAY. Weird. But I liked it. What's next, Pink Floyd doing Freebird?
Well, peeps, that's it. I'm spent. I am fresh out of blather for today. Thanks for tuning in. I hope you are all having a tremendous weekend/week ahead. Keep it real. Etc... ::kisskiss::

Blow Me (A kiss as you're leaving)

My husband works out of town. Frequently, he's gone during the week and home on weekends. This is when I usually get scheduled to work. There are times he's gone for a few weeks at a time. Either way, we deal with it; it's not so bad. This particular weekend, we got a visit from the vicious bitch Red. No big deal, really, it's not like we actually thought I might be *gasp* knocked up or anything.
Apparently, my PMS-style wankiness could be blamed on my beloved cycle. This did not stop me, however, from carting my ass to the "Fast Track" Clinic at my local ER on Friday night, just to hear myself complain to no one in particular.
Quick! What are the two most common diagnoses you get when the doctor doesn't have a fucking CLUE?
1) Gas
and
2) Muscle spasm
And they said I had both! Harrumph!
Thoughts of endo, and polyps, and fibroids (oh my!) danced in my head. I was just about to the point of demanding a lap (or maybe just an u/s, I'm not all that extravagant). "Hahaha, you silly gestationally challenged imbecile! You automatically think every discomfort is related to your girly parts!" Well, "what about an ulcer?" said I. Probably just gas. Here, stand up and bend this way. Now squat. Twist. Do the hokey Pokey. "You are having muscle spasms". But none of that hurt! No matter, here take these muscle relaxers, they might make you groggy. Yippee. Look, I am not having muscle spasms, I did not injure my back, this is internal pain, my cycles are fucked up, and I would like to find out what is wrong so we can FIX IT. mmmmkay?
No, take your gassy-assed whiney self outta here, and come back when you have a real problem. So, of course I filled the prescription, took a good long nap, and continued to feel lousy for the next two days. (read: the meds did not help)
I still feel like crap. But I got Big Red on Sunday! Do not read the next bit of TMI if your delicate sensitivities can't tolerate graphic icky stuff. Go on, I'll wait.
I don't yet know if this period will drag on for two weeks, but I have bled so much these past three days, I have more than made up for all of ya'll on cd45-80+. Sorry, I have stolen your flow, and am holding it hostage in my pants. Today for work, I brought along a change of slacks and two pairs of underwear, a BAG of fluffy 'sanitary napkins', and two fistfuls of corks for good measure. **giggle** (sanitary napkins. who the fuck came up with that misnomer?) I've mentioned chicken livers before, but I'm upgrading that visual to your pasture-variety calves' livers. I have repeatedly leaked through a nifty super-duper tampon/heavy-duty overnight pad combo in under two hours. But do I put in a call to the doc? Hell no. Why not? Because. Mostly because I am so swamped at work that I can't take time off (I love feeling so needed). But, I'm also tired of crying wolf. I'll go, and have this dainty little spotting episode that will embarrass me for complaining. Or maybe I'm afraid of what god-forsaken diagnosis they might actually come up with. At any rate, I'll just grin and bear it.
At least the hubby is understanding. Why, just today as he was leaving ~ he slid up to me, entwining me in a loving embrace... gently caressing my backside... kissing me, running his hands through my hair... telling me how much he really, really loved me. Oh baby, I love you too, but you know I'm on my period. "That's okay darling! You sho' got a purty mouth, ya know".
Sigh.

...and I have this hangnail

Last night, as I confidently navigated my way through the darkened room, I accidentally woke my dog. As I was tripping over his big furry ass laying right in the doorway, I broke my fall by impaling my hand on a nail jutting out from the wall. Being the refined and relaxed sort of person that I am, I gently nudged him with my foot, calmly suggesting that he should move out of the way when I am approaching. Who am I kidding, I'm lucky I don't have a limp. He just layed there, heavy lidded and disinterested, while offering a contemptuously disdainful gaze in my direction.
After my obsessive checking-of-the-paper ritual, I eyed my cache of peesticks, wistful in the maybe that I've come to know and love. My boobs are a little tender, sure, but I sleep on my stomach, mashing them into submission. It's the nipple sensitivity that has me perplexed, particularly the right one that seems to be stuck on high beam. Then there's the odd ache that has settled into my back, just at the lower edge of my ribs at kidney level. But, I think to myself, I shouldn't have a kidney infection, I have absolutely no UTI symptoms, and I've been drinking extra water. Hence the need to pee all damn day, another question mark to punctuate this finely tuned machine. Ok, so that metaphor doesn't exactly flow. Get it? Flow? I crack myself up.
Of course, we know what this means. Nothing, nada, zip, squat, zilch. The thing is, we haven't been trying, but haven't been preventing, either. Two can play this game. I'll just go back to my blissful ambivalence, and see if lightening strikes. Again. Yeah, that's what I'll do.
My cycles since Nick was delivered in February have been hellish, but punctual. Every 27 days, I could count on the joyous menstrual holiday to arrive, and we'd celebrate it for thirteen or fourteen days on end. What dedication! This two-weeks on, two weeks off festivity was fun, but I needed some change. In May, I decided to mix things up a bit. I observed the mandatory two-week menses, but this time, I only took ONE week off! That's right, on cd21 I came back for more! A day or two of intense partying was all I needed. As luck would have it, I was going in for some regularly scheduled maintenance, and mentioned this to Dr. Wonderful. Could it be implantation bleeding? Um, probably not. Could it be my cycles are just fucked up? Um, let's just wait and see. Wait for... (fill in the blank). (?)
We could wait to see if I start again, sure, that's a given. But, what of the long episodes of bleeding? What about the discomfort, the chicken livers, the landfill waste I am contributing to? What about trying to plan anything around this curse? Call me back in July or August, maybe we could check for polyps. You betcha.
So... I'm either on cd32, or cd12, or pregnant, or just fubar.
Did I mention I have gas?

B-A-N-A-N-A-S

Deep cleansing breath... hold it... let it out.
So, yesterday. After I reminded myself that oxygen was my friend, I readied myself to face another evening of fun and festivities at my place of employment. Normally, I would be looking forward to the diversionary mayhem to keep my mind off of the craptacular life I'm leading. On this occasion, however, I knew I would be forced to work alongside my newly-acquired archnemesis.
But, Julie, you may be saying ~ you are so quiet and likeable. How could you have any enemies?
Well, see, the answer is simply that I have no idea what crawled up this girl's ass. A couple of weeks ago, there began an unsettling shitfest that confounded yours truly. I show up to work in my usual cheery, unpretentious manner. As I am receiving report from the offgoing nurse, I am dutifully informed that said individual has apparently taken it upon herself the task of trying to make me look bad. WTF? This did not involve the usual gossip and ankle-biting that one might expect on occasion in any workplace. No, no, no. Seems Miss Bitch had begun a campaign of outright libel against me, an act of which is absolutely disallowed and largely unheard of across the board. Glass houses, ya know? Her assertions that certain aspects of my duties were not being executed BLINDSIDED me, forcing a thorough self-assessment (and ensuing self-doubt), as I have never, ever, ever been called to task on my performance. Ever.
Fortunately for me, there arose a rally of support the likes of which I have never known. I had not sought out advocacy, nor fired up the lynch mob that soon formed. What began to unfold shocked my socks off, and gave me the warm fuzzies fer shur.
I have worked in this industry for 13 years, and in this particular venue for the most part of 9 of those years. This Corn Nibblet* has been around the block, eh, maybe three years total; now on her fifth place of employment. Following me so far? Perhaps she missed the memo regarding the Code of Ethics. The CYOA clause specifies thou shalt not dig holes lest ye trip thyself in. (This is not to imply that willfully improper behavior is acceptable or overlooked. There are strict moral and legal standards to which we are bound).
Anyway... on with the show.
I abhor gossip; this is no bull. I refused to get caught up in this game, and kept my thoughts on the matter to myself. As disconcerting as this event was, there was no monkey on my back; I was unfazed. Behind the scenes, however, formed A Plan. (You know, the unspoken understanding that if it can happen to you, it could happen to me; let's put an end to this bullshit)... Sometimes, deliverance comes from from the least expected places. Linking up through the chain of command, my cohorts developed a force field of protection, complete with razor-sharp barbed wire. Had I known this, I would have enticed Miss Bitch to step into my lair, but, alas, I am just not that kinda person. Really. My nose is clean. As luck would have it, though, a weasel can't stay away from the henhouse for long, and she got herself tangled up. You see, the Law of Inevitability clearly defines that what goes around, comes around. To wit: don't fuck with people.
After a cleverly devised clandestine observation of said individual, by three levels of our superiors no less, it turns out that SHE, in fact, was making serious errors and omissions (not I, natch). SHE was written up twice, and is now on probation. Ha. haha. HahaHahaHA.
Fucking cow.
I must admit, however, that while I largely ignored her and the tension in the air, that the smarmy looks she would throw my way made me want to go all Bobby Bouchet** on her ass.
If you would have told me 20 years ago that adolescent hijinks tend to repeat themselves over, and over, and over again, I would have called you crazy. I must confess, that I have not witnessed another adult conduct themself in this manner since I grew up and went to college. All I can say is, I ain't no Hollaback Girl. Nuff said. End of rant.
Bitch.


* - undigested byproduct in the manure of existence
** - read: tackled a la The Waterboy

Miss You.

I want my baby.
I sit here, looking at his picture through tears that won’t stop.
And all I want is my baby.
He’s so beautiful. Every inch of him was perfect.
Such a sweet little face with that little dimpled chin.
I never got to look into his eyes. To see him gaze at me with wonder, his little hand wrapped around my finger while he fed at my breast.
I never got to smell his fresh baby scent.
Or the poopy diapers.
Or the spit-up, dried on my shoulder.
I never got a chance to deal with the late night feedings and marathon crying sessions.
Now, all I have are my own marathon crying sessions.
Sometimes, they keep me up nights.
That’s all I have.
Pain. Heartbreak. Empty arms. And memories of a dead baby that I never got to snuggle.
It’s not fair. I am so mad at god.
Miss you.