My Husband Is Sophisticated

This was part of my Fathers' Day present to Paul.  I know it's blurry, but yes, you are seeing correctly.  These are candy grillz.  He was pleased.  You are jealous.  It also says "Have Fun!" in both English and Spanish & advises that the product only be used by those 3 and up.  We enjoy our candy gangster accessories safely in my house.

Here Come the Boils!!!!!

You've GOT to be kidding me.  More bad news in the ridonkulous saga that is my health these days.  I just found out that I'm allergic to milk & wheat.  What?!  What is my go-to quick lunch when I am busy or not feeling well?  A cheese sandwich.  Yep.  I even do the fat-free or 2% cheese and the lo-cal, whole grain bread to keep it healthier.  Can't do that anymore.  Sometimes it's a quick quesadilla.  No, not the corn kind.  The kind made with flour.  WHEAT flour.  And filled with cheese made from MILK.  Might as well be a stalk of wheat dipped in milk.  I can't even begin to fathom the many, many, many milk & wheat products I ingest regularly.  Now I have to find a freakin allergist to manage this crap.  I can't even take it.

Oh, and btw, my new "super" doc, who I still THINK is helping me, but is a BIT loose with the script hand, happened to give me a couple of drugs to "try."  One just happened to flare up my previously controlled asthma, and another gave me high blood pressure.  The ONE THING I was proud not to have succumbed to yet - high blood pressure.  The ONE health problem in my murky genetic swamp that remained at bay.  Guess who woke it up?!  My new super doc.  He loses that "super" title until/ unless he redeems himself.  I go back in 6 weeks.  And that BP had better be back to 120/80.  Damnit.
Of course, I am also now diabetic (thanks to my dad & Little Debbie), so gotta watch all the carbs, and I have to watch my cholesterol & fat because of family history of high blood pressure, high cholesterol, risk for heart disease, blah, blah, blah.  So that brings us to...

things Michele can't eat:
milk
cheese
yogurt
butter
bread
pasta
cereal
sweets
sugared drinks
fried foods
fatty meats
ANYTHING THAT EVEN REMOTELY HAS ANY GOOD TASTE OR IS ENJOYABLE

and then to...

things Michele CAN eat:
NOTHING.  Air.  Water.  Broccoli.  Mmmmm, everyone knows how much I LOVE green vegetables.  Really?!  WTF???!!! 

I realize I'm slightly exaggerating, but I'm REALLY starting to lose it here.  One good piece of news is that I've lost a bit of weight & am still striving.  It's really hard when you're anemic (from what the docs tell me), are always tired, and can't breathe, but whatev.  Has to be done.

Anyone know a good allergist in Pittsburgh?  *sigh*

Job

No, I'm not bitching about my job again.  I'm bitching about my body again.  The title of this post refers to the story of Job in the bible.  You know, the guy who had a bunch of bad stuff happen all at once, i.e. boils, fire, etc?  I feel like him right now.  Like Satan has taken ownership of my body & commanded it to wage war upon itself. 

My new super-doctor told me about a hypersensitivity condition that doctors used to just consider hypochondria because they didn't know what it was.  So the rashes, headaches, memory loss, numbness in my toes, inability to lose weight, extreme fatigue (I'll stop there & spare you some of the gorier details).... are NOT all in my head?  I don't completely understand it.  I'm still waiting for him to help me finish putting the pieces together to figure out the root of my problems.  But today I can add "backache" to the list of demonic plagues. 

For the past few days, I've had soreness in my lower back.  Well, it's not getting better.  It's getting worse.  If I turn or bend a certain way, it catches & takes my breath away.  I'm not used to having back problems.  None of the yoga poses or stretches that I've known to help back pain in the past have helped.  So I'm now sitting in the recliner in my PJs with a heating pad.  Like a senior citizen at the home.  Taking my meds, testing my blood, resting my back.  Ya know, the works.  Like I imagine Job did.  I'm just waitin' for the boils.

The Sudan

No, not the African nation.  The lethal but miraculous cough medicine that Paul's doctor prescribes.  I don't know what it's really called, but that is the mysterious name that I've seen on the label.  It's this orange-ish liquid mixture with some sort of narcotic in it, and it does wonders for any sort of cold or cough.  It probably does wonders for anything because, like I said, it has narcotics in it.  We have found out the hard way that it also has some sort of poisonous ingredient that is there (thank God) solely to prevent the abuser (Paul) from overdosing.  In other words, you overdose on the poison & vomit before you have the chance to OD on the more harmful active ingredients.  It's ingenious, really.  It's dummy (Paul)-proof.

Ok, here's why I'm being so mean to Paul.  Believe me, he has earned this one.  Paul's theory with ANY medication is this:  "I'm a big man.  I need twice the recommended dose."  Now he knows damn well it does NOT work that way.  But, because he is a junky, he has overdosed on the Sudan, not once, but TWICE.  That's right.  Just in the 4 1/2 years we have known each other, he has taken enough at one time (in other words, chugged from the bottle without measuring) to poison himself to the point of vomiting on 2 separate occasions.  I thought I was going to have to stage an intervention there for a while.  Then he has the nerve to say to me when giving me advice on taking drugs, "Baby, I'd never tell you to take anything that would hurt you."  Ok, but your track record does not exactly instill confidence.  Know what I'm sayin'?

The Sudan OD incident I remember most clearly was early on in our relationship.  We had both been sick (uh, kinda passing it back & forth if ya know what I mean), and he was still working in IT at Mountaineer.  His boss came to his desk & found him in less than desirable condition.  All he could mutter was, "Get James," as he ran outside to throw up.  On the generator.  Poor James had to drive him home in that condition.  He had apparently been carrying the Sudan bottle around with a straw all damn day.  It's a wonder he wasn't mixing it with tonic water & a twist.

It's been a long time since we've seen any of the Sudan.  In Paul's defense, it REALLY makes you feel so much better!!  I recently had a cold & still have the remnants of the accompanying cough.  It got me to reminiscing about when he used to illegally share his Sudan with me.  I don't know how to go about asking my own doctors for such a thing.  I'm sure they would think I was a drug addict.  Paul's doctor is a bit, uh, "old school".  That's what we'll call him.  Even his pharmacist hesitated at filling the script one time, if that tells you anything. 

Ah, the Sudan.  I guess it's best that we haven't had any for a while, lest we both end up practicing 12-step programs.

Hometowns: Connellsville vs. Weirton

It's not a contest.  It's just that I've noticed that my hometown bears several similarities to Paul's hometown.  Both are small towns within 50 miles of Pittsburgh, so I guess there are bound to be some.  I thought I would try to describe some of the ones I've observed.  Maybe some differences too.

First of all, both cities were major players in the steel industry in the early 20th century.  Connellsville with it's coke ovens, Weirton with it's steel mills.  Both saw booming economies as a result.  Both exist along rivers, with Connellsville being on the Youghiogheny and Weirton on the Ohio, which aided these endeavors. 

Both areas seem to have large Italian American populations (moreso neighboring Follansbee, where Paul's father's family is from, than Weirton itself), as well as large Catholic communities, with an emphasis on religious education.  Hence, our shared experiences of our Italian heritage & attending Catholic schools.

Both areas are now financially depressed, but Connellsville especially these days.  Though Weirton is much larger, its steel industry is hanging on by a thread.  Young people from both areas seem to migrate closer to Pittsburgh for good jobs.

Oh, and the pizza shops!!  Lots of family-owned pizza shops.  :-) 

There's something else.  Something sort of intangible.  A small-town community feel.  Where people know what's going on & know each other.  They talk about each other, but they also support each other when they need it.  I never know what's going on where I live now.  I barely know the names of my local elected officials.  I know my immediate neighbors, but I couldn't tell you most of their last names if my life depended on it.  The only other people I know in my township are those I happen to work with.  Oh, and my eye doctor, who happens to belong my church.  Ok, now I'm grasping at straws.  My point is that I don't have that small-town-grew-up-here-and-know-everyone feeling about where I live, and I've lived here for 14 years.  That's ok, though sometimes I miss it.  I can visit Connellsville for a dose of it, and Paul can visit Weirton. 

It's weird to me that Weirton is about 1/2 the distance to Pittsburgh as Connellsville is, yet it is "a state away."  Weirtonians are their own people, but all of Paul's friends have been incredibly warm & friendly to me.  I feel like I'm part of the crowd.  But when I meet someone new there, they might ask me if I know so-and-so, and someone will say, "oh, she doesn't know her; she's from PA."  Like I'm an alien.  My house is literally 15 minutes form the border of WV.  It's funny.  But it's true.  I probably don't know so-and-so.  Sometimes I do work with so-and-so because, as Paul's grandma used to tell people, I am a "big shot at Bayer," which is only about a 30-minute drive from Weirton. Oh, how she used to make me laugh with her knack for tall tales!

Aha, I thought of a BIG difference between Connellsville & Weirton!  You canNOT walk into a grocery store in Connellsville & buy beer!  That makes me far superior and Paul a heathen!  I win!

Paul Is Old, and I Am Not!

Paul's 40th Birthday Party

Nothing makes a woman feel younger than a husband 4 years her senior.  Thanks for being old, honey!

Alien Probing

So I felt like the subject of a science experiment today.  And I mean like a PhD thesis project experiment.  The kind that needs A LOT of data to support it.  Much like reports of alien abductions.  I had an appointment at the Khurana Clinic in the Mt. Lebanon section of Pittsburgh.  It was THE longest medical appointment I have ever had.  That includes my tonsillectomy & various other outpatient procedures.  From 9:30 am until 4:00 pm, I was subjected to the drawing of about 8 tubes of blood, a 3-hour blood glucose test (the kind they do for gestational diabetes), an EKG, 3 urine tests, ultrasound exams of various internal organs, and various other standard measurements (height, weight, BP, reflexes, etc).  At one point, I was lying on a table having an ultrasound of my thyroid while a 2nd technician was pricking my finger for my 5th blood glucose reading of the day.  It was a bit overwhelming, but I whole-heartedly embrace their thoroughness.  I was waiting for them to try to do a prostate exam.  Ha.  At 2:30, I finally got to see the doctor.  He talked to me for 1 1/2 hrs.  Seriously.  90 minutes.  A DOCTOR.  I know, it's unbelievable.

Today was the big hurrah of the past few months.  Game 1 of the Championship Series, the first lap of the Grand Prix, or some other dumb sports analogy.  In other words, I like to think it's the beginning of the end.  The end of all of this nonsense.  Please, take buckets of my blood if it means you'll be able to tell me what's going on & treat it successfully.  I have been to several doctors over the past few months & tried to decide the best path.  Like who could really help me vs. who is a shyster vs. who won't treat me like crap, etc.  Today, the right path seems clear.  If this doctor can't help me, for crying out loud, no one can.  My friend who referred me to him (because he helped her daughter) tried to convince me that he was at one time Mother Teresa's doctor.  Ok, yeah right, Bernie.  Mother Teresa's doctor.  Ha.  I'm not sure that I'm buying that, but for some reason, I believe everything that comes out of this man's mouth.  He seems to know everything I'm feeling & why.  I think he must have sold his soul to the devil for all of his knowledge and power.  I'm ok with that.  As long as he lives up to his reputation and my first impression.  We'll see.

I have been on medical leave from work for 3 months & suffering with these severe chronic fatigue symptoms for much longer than that.  I'm done.  This had better be the means to an end to it all, or I'm going to be mad!  Especially since most of it is not covered by insurance.  Hmph.

Sicksomnia

So I have been going through some weird sleep patterns since I've been on leave from work.  But tonight is different.  I started coming down with some sort of virus 2 nights ago, and my sleep is really weird now.  For example, it's going on 3 am, and I'm wide awake & doing laundry, dishes, and making coffee.  I think it's a combination of the bug, the cold medicine (yummy green Nyquil), and my not really needing to keep to a schedule right now.  I have been taking Nyquil during the day as well as at night, so I slept a good bit today & woke up with some very strange notions of... of.... like.... I don't really know how to say it.  That I could sort of float through the air.  Defy gravity if you will.  It was a dreamlike state, but I was lucid & even telling Paul about it when I went downstairs for dinner.  I think he was scared.  I wasn't making any sense, but it made perfect sense in my head that I was able to jump straight up in the air & sort of float around & hover for awhile before coming down.  It was a great secret talent that I was very proud of in my dream/ altered state.  He muttered something about having me committed.  Let me see if I can explain better.  You know how sometimes you're dozing off, and you sort of start dreaming before you're fully asleep?  Sometimes that happens to me, and I wake up & think the dream is real for a split second.  Then I somehow do a reality check.  I think to myself, "Wait, is what I was just experiencing really plausible?  Was I just riding on the nose of a dolphin?  That's silly.  Of course not.  I was dozing off & dreaming.  Now go back to sleep."  Well, that reality check wasn't fully working today.  When I asked myself, "Wait, can I REALLY defy gravity?" the answer was, "Maybe!!  Wow, that is SO COOL!!"  HOW much Nyquil did I take????