Tagged: health

Jan 09

P(uuuurrrr)cocet OR The Past 48 Hours

Thursday night I had trouble sleeping; my stomach hurt, I felt gassy and nauseaus, and I condemned the pizza I’d had for dinner the night before.

Friday afternoon I was a whimpery mess of agony, wrapped around a heating pad, praying for whatever was ailing me to leave.

Friday evening I got on Web MD and freaked myself out about a possible appendicitis, called my mom and proclaimed I thought I should go to the ER, but then cowed to my own hypochrondiacal (I know, I know, not a real word) nature and took a shower instead.

A shower in which I nearly passed out and had to spend several minutes on the cold cement floor of the bathroom before I could dress my self and stumble out to the couch… where my side exploded in pain and I howled like a banshee while my dad held my hand and told me it would pass before shakily getting me up and putting me in the car.

- I thought my appendix had just burst, and anyone who’s ever watched any medical drama knows that a burst appendix is Bad. News.-

So I set to hyperventilating a little and my fingers were tingly as I called mom and told her where we were headed, called the hospital to tell them we were coming, and texted my fella to let him know that I was in scary shape (how he discerned those texts is beyond me – my fingers were a shaky useless mess – and I also don’t know why I didn’t just call him, except that I was a panic stricken shiver-box.)

My dad drove that big-ass white truck of his like a hero – harkening back to his ambulance driving days – and we were at the hospital in minutes!

And after that is was a battery of tests, moments of absolute worry and anxiety, and some of the most loving and caring faces on the planet surrounding me to offer comfort.

I love my family.

I love my fella.

I can’t imagine going through all of that without them there to hold my hand and tell me jokes, and remind me that it was all going to be okay.

Especially as the (Antone dubbed) drunk sadistic razor-bladed monkeys continued to dance around my mid-section.

I had to drink something that tasted like pre-jello Jello mix so that they could do a cat-scan and see what the heck was going on – and guess what?  It wasn’t a burst appendix after all (Thank GOD) – It was a ruptured ovarian cyst.

Boo, you naughty ovaries, boo!

And the damn thing was bleeding all over the place.

So they did an ultrasound and checked my blood again, and decided that they needed to operate.

I think a this point I’d already been crying enough to render my eyes racoonish, but upon learning that the risk included possibly having to remove the troublesome ovary, this little kitten’s eyes flooded all over again.

But there were my mom, dad, and Cason, holding my hand and whispering happy things at me, and telling me I was going to be just fine.

And my doctor was calm and kind, and all the hospital staff were gentle and empathetic… and I felt safe.

Scared as hell, but safe.

Which is about when I asked Cason to document things with his cell-phone camera…

This is me pre-surgery, for some reason I was very amused with my hat.

With  all the medical drama my family has endured, we have developed a very keen and saving brand of humor… It was so scary being the one on the table, but I’m just so thankful for the love we all share and the way we stick together through things.  I was absolutely terrified, but I was convinced that this picture would be funny later.

I even stuck my tongue out…

I think this is about the time that they also injected some sort of pre-anestethic drug into my IV, so after this things get a little fuzzy.  I remember kissing everyone and crying and squeezing hands and then I remember the surgical room and how big it looked and laying down on the operating table and then…

I woke up to some bright lights and a smiling nurse, and I thought Oh, shit!, and said “You mean this is really happening?”  which got a curious look, to which I mumbled “I thought maybe I was dreaming” – which got a healthy laugh.

And there they were again, my mom, my dad, and Cason, all hugging me, kissing me, squeezing my hand… and I asked Cason to take another picture (which is HILARIOUSLY awful, so I’ll spare you) and then it was zonk-out hour and I thanked God that I had made it safe and sound and that the doctor had been able to take care of both the ruptured cyst and ANOTHER one on the other ovary, without having to remove anything!

And now I am home, safe and sound, with two little bandaids on each side and a bigger bandaid over my belly button from where they went in with their little camera, and I’ve got a trusty prescription for percocet that helps me sleep and shuffle around without too much discomfort.

Apparently at one point I looked at Cason and said “Well, we’re having an adventure, aren’t we” – it’s an adventure I don’t want to repeat… But I am so thankful for all the love and strength my family and Cason shared with me that night, and I am so thankful for all the Facebook love that came my way.

I think that when trouble strikes, it’s the people in your life who help determine your success in managing it… I am truly blessed with some of the most amazing people in my life, and I am so thankful that they share their lives with me.

I love you mom, dad, Trevor, Kaiti, and Cason!  Thank you for holding my hand, making me feel safe, and making me laugh!

And to everyone else who sent love and prayers, I love you too!  Here’s my big cyber-hug in return!

xoxoxo,

Tiffany

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Posted in The Daily Drool

Sep 13

Bits From the Fog

Always, it is like this – when I am sick, I become methodical… tasks line up in no particular order or panic, each awaiting there turn as I snif, Snif, SNIFFLE, my way down the line…

I am too tired

Too stuffy

Too hopped up on cold medicine and too busy trying to avoid additional sneezes

To notice that I do not particularly care for the task at hand.

It is not time to be creative, for the muse is wrapped around a box of tissues, sighing over the futility of snot

It is not a time to be active, for the body is busy fighting off the mucus-makers

It is simply a time to sit down and embrace the monotony of tasks I have been avoiding… those things that bore, the items that linger…

And so this post is not the most exciting (apologies) nor is it all impressive on structure.

It is, merely, a peek into the sneeze-addled, eye-watering, runny-nosed state of mind in which my Monday has arrived.

(sigh)

Dayquil, anyone?

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Posted in The Daily Drool

Apr 08

Allergies and alligator skin

An allergy is an exaggerated immune response or reaction to substances that are generally not harmful. Thank you, Google (she says sarcastically and with a dash of grump)

I forgot… forgot how damn windy it gets here, and how much pollen/dust/other itch-makers get blown around, into your eyes and up your nose.

Grrrr.

There’s the Loratadine tablets that help, and the allergy spray that helps… but all of it serves as sore reminders of Mother Nature’s smack-down skill.

Almost as soon as I crossed the state line I could feel her, tickling my sinuses – as though she’s got a kick-back deal with Kleenex.  Shortly thereafter the skin began to molt, as always happens when I cross into the arid Arizona landscape.

In short, I’m an itchy, sneezy, flaky mess at present, so be happy you don’t have to gaze on this face, haha.

And yes, it will start to subside, I’ll readjust, and the sneezing will become more maneagable, but wow, I’m giving the tissue companies and lotion manufacturers a nice little boost.

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Posted in The Daily Drool

Feb 10

Downtown Germs

I woke up today with a little squeak.  I mean, I quite literally am squeaking when I take a deep breathe.

That can’t be good.

So I made an apointment for la’ doctuer… It’s funny, because with Kaiser you are asking to enter the medical village- there is always someone there who can see you!  And my appointment is set for 1:35.  I’m kind of excited.

Especially if there’s a chance they will help bring an end to this cold’s reign of terror.

Because I didn’t realize until later last night that I had had a fever for about 2 days straight…  I mean, it wasn’t until the fever broke and all of a sudden I could see straight that thought to myself “Hmmm, I think I’ve been above temperature normal!”  And the relief was astounding.  The headache was gone.

It was wonderful.

And then my roomate took pity on me and brought me fresh kleenex, orange juice, and soup.  This is why it is better to live with somebody.  (And for times when you lock yourself out, among others)

But all this to say, in a very disjointed way because my stuffy brain is still not making the most sense, that I am assigning blame of this cootie invasion to my day of extra work on CSI:New York last week.  Yup, all day out in the cold in Downtown Los Angeles- where the gross and disgusting germs pool around each other and stew more gross and disgusting germs, and where each breathe is rife with unpleasant smells and sensations… where buildings lie vacant and cars sputter their noxious, ozone defeating fumes… where homeless stroll lost and men with questionable hygeine walk up and down alleys spewing “The End Is Coming”…

That is, I think, where this noxious little bugger entered my system and took up its cause.

Well, I’m going to the Doctor and I’m getting some drugs to help kick this little bastard’s ass!

And I’m not heading back downtown anytime soon.

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Posted in The Daily Drool

Feb 09

Sick Day

Snot.

I hate it.

I hate trying to fall asleep, only to be kept awake by the constant drip, drip, drip of the stuff… So maybe you fold up some tissue and wedge it into your nostrils in a pitiful, “I-don’t-care-what-this-looks-like-or-if-it-will-have-permanent-repercussions-for-my-nostrils” attempt to staunch the drip.  Maybe you prop the pillow against your now-open jaw so you can mouth-breath without that fretful waking at the moment it truly relaxes and plops open even further…

And maybe you preface the whole process with a couple of Nyquil capsules and a brief prayer that this nastiness go away sososososo quickly, please!

But waking up the next morning and surveying the wreckage of your bed, and the dissarray of tissue… well, it’s really nothing compared to realizing, at 12:30 in the afternoon, that this cold from hell has also taken your sense of smell.

Yes.

I smeared the Vix all over my chest only to realize 30 seconds in that I was wrinkling my nose out of memory… I couldn’t really smell it!  Doubting myself, I went so far as to stick my nose INTO the jar and inhale deeply… a couple of times – Nothing.

Who wants to bring me chicken noodle soup?

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Posted in The Daily Drool

Jan 12

Up and Down

Last night was one of those bizarre and miserable nights where a migraine moved in and tortured me for HOURS.  It started at the Ovation awards in Redondo beach- a lovely black tie affair with a cream puff finish (I ate 5!)  - But about half way through the ceremony I could feel that monster approaching and had nothing in my tiny decorative purse to purge the beast except a couple Tylenol.

The Migraine laughed at them like I was throwing snowballs at the sun.

So I suffered through it, and stumbled out of the theatre to my friend’s car (cream puff in tow) and came home to the frustrating migraine medicine cabinet… The stuff I take for them knocks the bastards out but totally upsets my stomach and makes me feel speedy in the process.  Not a thing to be taken lightly at 11 p.m.

Which is all to say that I hardly slept last night for tossing and turning and having to get up to snack at 2 a.m. because my little tummy was all sorts of upset and then this morning arrived and I found some of the tortilla I had crawled back to my room with didn’t make it into my mouth, but got stuck in my hair instead, and my eyes are swollen from the whole thing and I want someone to rub my feet…

So yeah, a whiney Tuesday morn.

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Posted in The Daily Drool

Dec 14

Ahhh, the cooties got me!

Well, I knew waking up on Saturday that continuing with the planned Holiday Fiesta was a risky move- I felt like crap and my voice was barely present… But I couldn’t muster the courage to cancel.  I wanted to see everybody, and I had already bought the turkey.  So I pressed on with my day- a day begun in Valencia with this “Miss Tiffany has a little voice today, so let’s everyone be on our best behavior so she doesn’t have to talk too loudly!”  to a room full of empathetic 4 yr. olds who quickly forgot about Miss Tiffany’s cold entirely and dissolved into their regular rambunctious behaviors.

(sigh)

So by the time I got back home for last minute decorations and turkey preparations (while I was certainly feeling festive) my voice-box was on it’s last little legs.

And I will say that I had a LOVELY time (and drank only hot tea), it was so nice to see everyone and the food was all delightful.  (we didn’t even wind up with a dozen pumpkin pies like last year, so yay!)  But when all was said and done, and the last reveler had gone, I was left to face the non-music… my voice was GONE, and the germs that conquered were setting up camp in my chest.

For the cold, thus left untended, had taken over.

So Sunday was spent abed, and acouch, and today I will spend a chunk of my time aKaiser…

The funny thing being (in all the coughing and whining) is that I knew I was pressing my luck, yet I forged ahead anyway.

And I wonder, if the wonders of modern medicine weren’t so readily available… if I wasn’t paying $160 a month for the “luxury” of a $30 co-pay to see Dr. Somebody-or-other, would I have been so lax on my own upkeep?  I mean, a hundred years ago, I might not have had such a cavalier attitude about these persistent germs… I might have been in bed, on a strict OJ and chicken soup diet… intimidated by the threat of leeches or other such unusual treatments.

Instead, living as we do now, I forged ahead with little worry as to how I would manage the consequences.

And in all honesty, while the party surely didn’t help matters, it wasn’t solely to blame; rather it became an accelerant- too much talking, laughing, and energy spending- thus I depleted my dwindling resources.

So today, I will celebrate in the marvels of modern medicine- I will rest up with more tv-watching and wii playing, and I will hope that my voice returns post haste.

And I will smile through the coughing as I think of all the fun I had celebrating the holidays with my very dear friends this season.

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Posted in The Daily Drool

Sep 19

Running… it's what's for lunch

I’ve never been a fan of running- in fact, those who know me well know that if the sneakers are out it’s a good indication that this little lady has been inexcusably angered.  I think it’s because I hate running so that when the blood is boiling, it seems the only possible way to excise the anger demons.  And since I get that angry about once every twelve years, I hardly ever have to run.

But this week I’ve been out in my running shoes three times.

And yes, it’s due to unfortunate tidings, but for the first time EVER I’ve enjoyed it.  I’ve enjoyed turning off my brain and just counting my breaths.  I’ve enjoyed pushing my body so hard that it burns past the fuel and calories and into the emotions.  I’m running off my tears.  All that pent up pain has to come out one way or another and crying just seems so involuntary… so I’m running.

And I know I’m probably not doing it right.  I’m certainly not running steady- this little body has gotten soft – but I’m stretching and hydrating and leaving my shit at the door.

So while I don’t think I’ll ever develop those glazed over euphoria-eyes talking about the habit, I do feel a bit of fierce protectiveness for this new round of therapy.

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Posted in The Daily Drool

Aug 18

Left, Right… Fight?

I don’t like to air my political thoughts very often because I think we get enough of people broadcasting on that channel – every once in a while though I get struck numb with the sheer audacity of something and publicly ponder.   Today I’m not going to do that –  Today I’d like to ask you some questions… because I feel like I don’t have enough reach to grasp the answer.

The divide between Republicans and Democrats – something that has been going and going – feels to me to becoming particularly divisive as of late.  I’m speaking of the past couple years, and especially since the election.  Everyone seems to have a very vocal and vociferous opinion about why their side has it all figured out and the other are a bunch of nuts.  People are angry and looking for an outlet – but what is scary to me is any sense of seeming appreciation that this is the place to have debate… that this, of all nations, is one in which we (while agreeing to disagree) should at least retain reason as we struggle to fight for our beliefs without becoming so fanatically committed to them that we cease to see our opponant as a likewise dedicated human being.

Because I feel like this is getting forgotten.  Because we’re not debating anymore, we’re throwing dirty punches – and while the things we are fighting for are life-changing – it’s scary to see so many people apparently loosing their minds in the ring.

I’m not preaching some sort of “Can’t we all just get along” mentalitiy, because I know we can’t.  We’re all of us coming at issues from our own perspective and that will always result in differences, some of which are too strong to overlook.  But I can’t abide by the ignorance of some of the arguments people are making on either side – and by ignorance I mean those who have begun denigrating everyone who disagrees.  Yes, people are angry, and Yes, someone has to lose – but writing off a whole demographic with expletive ridden insults and disgust, just because they don’t agree with you, turns debate into a playground fight really quickly.  It’s disgusting.

So this is my question:  When is the last time we were so divided politically and do you think we’re going to be able to heal?  Are we as a nation going to be able to move forward from our political positions, win or lose, or is this divide going to turn into one giant crack…

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Posted in Essays, The Daily Drool

Jun 04

Toes and Shoulders

There is something so pleasing in a simple rub of the piggies… I could sit near comatose from a good rub for hours, were it monetarily possible for me to do so.  Whether it’s a nail tech in the mall treating my feet, or some angelic soul with strong, generous hands manipulating my muscles at Burke Williams, I’m at my happiest in times of massage.

And why shouldn’t I be?  It’s such a simple thing – the right touch and your stiff shoulders are miles away… the cramped fingers from hours of typing are long forgotten, the cell phone turned off and tucked away… I mean, I really believe that Heaven must have an all you can eat buffett filled with your favorite foods and a spa where you can get massaged as long as you like.

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Posted in The Daily Drool

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