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April 30, 2008

When Daughters Become Mothers

I ponder often these days what kind of mother I will be to my children.   Scares the crap out of me.  I'm not the most nurturing, I am horribly impatient, and I am extremely sensitive to sounds, smell, and all things potentially repetitive and annoying.  Shitting, crying, whining, fussing, needy babies...ANYONE?  And the thought of something needing to suck milk out of my nipple (like (such as) multiple times a DAY) kind of freaks me out.  Sounds about as enjoyable as having blood drawn.  Can you nurse AND take xanex?

I know this is nothing unique to me and my life...but it still feels huge.  I sometimes wish that I could access live moments from my childhood for review.  So that I could understand with more clarity - my sensitivities - and ultimately how I arrived from 'there' to 'here'.  Because the older I get the less certain I am of how it actually was.  I wonder if I haven't just relied on theories along the way that offered some mental recess when I've needed to feel less responsible for the more unattractive, insecure qualities in the woman I have become.  The obtrusive ones.  The ones that burden your relationships with the people you love the most.  The ones that hurt, that don't reason, that make you feel like Mt. Everest stands between you and having grace and compassion.

I believe everything we think we know about parenting, and the choices we make that feel important to us - starts with our own childhood.  It seems the most relevant point of reference - when we have none of our own.  What we liked.  What we didn't like.  What hurt.  What we missed.  What felt 'unfair'.  What we felt we needed or wanted.  What we admired about our parents, and what embarrassed us.  Mainly, what parts of us evolved from nurture and not nature. 

We fear becoming the worst parts of our mothers and fathers - predisposed for their vices, their attitudes, their inadequacies.  We fear the potential we have to over-compensate for all those things by injecting too much of our own egos into our children's development.    That no matter how hard we try to sort and separate and compartmentalize all those things in an attempt to at the very least be a little more intentional in our behavior as 'friend', 'teacher', 'sister', 'mother', 'whatever'...we will fuck it up somehow.

I love knowing, however, that I might have the chance to try.  That I will probably fuck it up, but that maybe I can fuck it up one year of therapy less.   To a degree, I imagine I will be winging it as I have always done.  And the rest - will reveal itself through careful and deliberate discussion of how our family - progresses towards whatever it is we have agreed to value most.  I suppose thats what everyone does.  It just feels so special, and complicated and scary when you are doing it for the first time - and when you know that while it can be the most rewarding and gratifying of human experiences, it is certain to be the most challenging.

Here's to hoping I'm up for it!

No.  I'm not pregnant. 

April 21, 2008

Bedside Notes From The E.R.

After spending the last 2 days in a an E.R observation room, my Pain Scale has been completely re-defined.  Here is a pictorial to guide you through my story of survival.

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Friday morning I woke up with some odd abdominal pain.  The kind that finds you sweaty, dizzy and naked on a toilet.  I made a few attempts to leave for work and couldn't, so I finally called to ask Vern what she thought I should do.

I will never call Vern if I am sweaty, dizzy and naked on a toilet.  Ever again.

Vern rushed over and picked me up and took me to the E.R.  We thought it was possible I could be having appendicitis - which would not be something to sit around and think about.  I was so anxious the whole way over that I'd fart or something and all my pain would go away before we got there.  That would be my luck.

I arrived at 11am Friday and wasn't released until 3:30pm on Saturday.  I hadn't had anything to eat since 8pm on Thursday.  They don't let you EAT OR DRINK anything if they think they may have to take you in for surgery - so that basically meant that come 2pm on Saturday when they were still trying to come up with more tests to run on me - I was on my 43rd HOUR of NOTHING TO EAT.  Do you have any idea what kind of headache you get when you don't get food for 43HOURS?  Pissy doesn't even come close. 

So for my first pain threshold marker...I give you STARVATION.  It is an 8.

Drinking barium for a CT scan?  Not nearly as bad as I expected.  Had I known how the next 24 hours were going to go, I might have actually ENJOYED IT.  It is a 1.

CT Scan?  Easy peasy.  0.

Starting an IV line?  Well, if you have deep rolling veins this can be a most unpleasant experience.  I had a rookie give two attempts at this after which he nearly had me come off the bed.  Nurse #2 got it on her first try and Vern was actually SWEATING watching this.  I cried.  I yelled.  Bloodwork revealed my white cell count was way up.  I had a temperature of 100.5. Not a happy camper.  I give this a 7.

Dilaudid + Tordal?  Have you ever been on the GRAVITRON at the fair?  I don't like the sensation of my face melting into my pillow.  I give this a 3.

It is almost midnight, I have been at the hospital for 13hours and they aren't sure if it is appendicitis.  They say because I don't have a lot of fat surrounding my appendix, they can't tell if there is any inflammation.  My lower abdomen is tight, sensitive to the touch. 

2 pelvic exams?  Awful.  I swear the ER doctor reached all the way up into my rib cage looking for my ovaries.  Horrible pain up in my parts.  I give this a 6.

The surgeon doesn't want to call the surgery - thinks its gynecological, the Gyno they call in at 11pm is clearly annoyed she's been called in, and thinks I'm fine.  No one has answers.  They decide to keep me overnight for observation - thinking if its appendicitis it will get worse.  It stayed the same.

I hardly slept all night, I wanted to go home.  I was ready to be either cut on, or let go so I could binge on Taco Bell Gorditas.

Day 2 sucked so bad, I can't even really talk about it.  Still.  And its been 3 days now since I left the hospital - and that long that I have been working on publishing this post.  But who are we kidding?  I'm going to go for it anyway...

2 things happened that have earned the new top records for my worst pain ever.  Hateful, horrible, things that you wouldn't wish on nobody.  Which is why I have decided I can't ever get pregnant for I live now in the fear that someone, someday will request a FULL BLADDER SONOGRAM 10 minutes after I have just had my IV LINE removed thinking I am done with TORTURE for the day.

On day 2 they wheel me down for a sonogram - lay me out and lady starts rolling on my belly.  "Your bladder's not full.  I need a full bladder."  They send me back.  I am crying.  I am STARVING.  I have a headache like you wouldn't believe and people EVERYWHERE are drinking COFFEE.   I am tired.  I want to go home.  I FEEL like I have a full bladder, but the hateful sonogram woman says she needs it fuller.  Which in my mind means I am going to be bumped out of line and there for another 4 hours before I can get back in for my test.  Which means another 4 hours I have to wait for results, so they can tell me I can FREAKING HAVE A CHULUPA.

Problem is - I have asked them to remove THE IV LINE because they put it in the crack of my arm and I couldn't bend it all night.  It hurt bad (a 2 - in hindsight) and I requested they remove it since it didn't look like I'd be going in for surgery.  They did.  Since I can no longer get fluids from my IV, and you know whose not allowed to eat OR DRINK? - two nurses come into my room with their heads down and say "Sorry Mrs. Pitts, we have to set you up with a Foley".  They are carrying a box and some equipment...and I burst into tears thinking Foley is their term for another IV LINE.  I respond wailing "You better just go get your expert person now, because I'm not going through this again!!!".  They look at me like I am jacked.

Vern shoots me a look like "oh, poor child...she has know idea...".  The nurses ask Zack and Vern to leave and through my tears I can see that I am getting a FLAMING CATHETER. 

Having a McDonald's sized straw shoved in a hole half its size with a BALLOON to be expanded in your bladder so it doesn't come out?  I called for Vern to come back in...it took them forever, I was freaking sweating all over.  Crying.  Legs trembling like Elvis (I had had this done once in college but it was just to get urine sample..it sucked.  But it was only in there for like 10 mins) I was miserable.  I wanted to die.  They get it in there and I yelled out louder than the woman a few rooms down who had somehow gotten her finger stuck in a blender.  In this moment - it is a 10.  Little do I know, the 10 is in another room waiting for me.  Vern knows about the 10 in that room.  Vern also knows that its not really a 10 - its just a 5 - and I might aught to reconsider having 3 children.

The 10 is something I don't even know if I can talk about.  It is pure evil.  It trumps every other painful experience in my life.  It lasted for about 10 minutes - and it felt like an eternity.  It kind makes me tear up just thinking about it.

They have put the catheter in - I am so uncomfortable.  I am a sweaty mess.  I can't get any pain meds because I have no FRIGGIN IV!  They wheel me back to the sonogram room on my hospital bed.  I am IN HELL. 

So here is the deal.  I have figured that they've already somehow filled my bladder with all that tube mess down there and I'm good to go.  But not.  The tech has to fill it.  And she tells me 'This is going to feel VERY UNCOMFORTABLE...and I'm thinking I have NO ENERGY for things uncomfortable at this point.  Just kill me now.

This big ol' mamma says to me...straight up..."now, I'm just gonna tell you right now...this is going to hurt - it ain't natural for fluid to go up like this, and its going to feel like you have to go real bad".  And I seriously just start crying.  Again.

And people - let me tell you.  There are no words.  There is no comparison.  All I can tell you is that what that feels like is something that you just - cannot - bear.  That you might explode in pain.  I have never sweat so much in my life while she was bearing down on my abdomen while it felt as though 10,000 leagues was being drained into my little bladder.  It was wrong.  And that is my 10.

If childbirth is an 11 - I'm fuct.

What I have learned from this experience is:

1.  A ruptured cyst can mimic the symptoms of appendicitis.  And it sucks.

2.  IV's are for drugs and filling bladders the natural way.  The ER is full of DRUG INDUCING experiences.  THE IV IS YOUR FRIEND.  It must not be removed until you are paying your parking fee and driving OUT.  I traded a 2 on my pain scale for a 10 - and I will never make that mistake again.

3.  The FOLEY is the Antichrist.

 

 

 

April 16, 2008

Busy Knittin' STUFF

Here.  Is what I've been up to lately.

Knits_005

I'm hormonal.  Shut up.

Shoes_001

Shoes_011

Shoes_016 

Remember I asked for TEACAKES?  I called out unto the universe, and the universe gaveth teacakes to me.  The universe is Nanjeeka - my new Scottish friend and Tunnocks Distributor.  I got chocolate covered marshmellow and graham cracker, she got these little doodads.  Neato eh?  I love this pattern.  It's a quick knit...and perfect for long hair lassies who don't like stuffing all that bidness up into a regular cap.  Not to mention, I can't stand the patterns with a little hole in the hat for the ponytail.  It just looks weird.  If you ask me.

And finally...my latest project!!!  I dream of this one.  I roll over in the middle of the night and contemplate knitting a few rows at 3am. 

Here is what the final should look like:

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Here is the backside of mine almost complete.  I am using pima cotton instead of linen. 

Knits_010

  How friggin awesome is that?

April 10, 2008

I Will Write

Today.  Sometime.  I plomise.

In the meantime.  Did anyone else watch THIS last night?  I couldn't stop CRYING in bed as I tried to fall asleep. 

April 01, 2008

How Not To Land A Job

Welcome to my world of phone interviews.  It goes a little something like this: 

“So STELLA, what are you looking for?”

“Well, I’m looking for something a little more up my alley, ya know”

“Ahh, yes.  I see.  And what exactly is ‘up your alley’?”

“Something more creative.  Yeah.”

“Right.  Okay.  Tell me a little bit more about that.”

You know, something that lets me be more creative.  Like with layout, and colors, and writing, and stuff.”

“Alllllllllright.”

“Oh, and something that pays lots of money!  I want to be a manager.  But not a manager of people.  More like, a manager of information...yeah.  I want creative control and lots of money.  I got skills and qualifications.  I’m a communicator.  I have a blog. My wedding was in Modern Bride?  I knit real good. I want babies.”

“Well that’s just GRIIIIITE Stella.  We will review your information and get back to you when we are closer to a decision.  THANKS!”

Are you seeing my dilemma?