cyberchondria

just for consistency, I feel like I should blog this.

/ laterain / 4 Comments

remember the tooth? well, the wisdom tooth (#17) that caused the cavity in #18 that led to the root canal . . . yeah. I had that out today.

and I feel SUPER, thanks for asking! seriously, it doesn’t hurt (so far?! it’s only been about four hours and the numbing junk seems to still be wearing off), although I took some medicinal precautions anyway . . .

and yeah, I know you’re dying to see some pictures . . . give me a day or two . . . you won’t be disappointed!

ps–what a FABULOUS excuse to eat mashed potatoes!

the sleep study (not just for fat chicks!)

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So for those of you who have been waiting with baited breath, here are some highlights (and photos, of course!) of the sleep study . . .

now THAT’S attractive . . .

best moment: the technician telling me, “so if you need help relaxing, there’s a vibrator over there.” My immediate thought: “EIUEW!” and then, “BUT SHE JUST TOLD ME THERE’S A CAMERA IN THE CEILING!”

Seriously, it took me a minute to register the fact that she was pointing to a remote control and that what she meant is that the BED had a vibrating mechanism. wow.

she was sooooo nice . . . so if I get a survey in the mail, do I even mention the fact that she might want to consider a new choice of words? she was young . . . and married . . . so of course I’m sure it didn’t occur to her!

most annoying moment: mentioning to the afore-mentioned technician that I had overheard the anesthesiologist at my surgery say something about, “her sats kept dropping” (not my test scores, my oxygen saturation levels, for those of you who are possibly less cyberchondriacal than I am . . . ) and the tech immediately said, “So that was probably a big part of the reason why you were referred.” and all I could think was, “nice. too bad I referred my OWN self, and nobody there said anything to me.” AND I requested my records from the surgery, and nothing was said there either. (I think there was one sentence about them needing to switch from partial to full anesthesia, but nothing like, “hmm. she doesn’t breathe well when she’s asleep. perhaps we should suggest that she get a sleep study.”)

so you see, cyberchondria does have its benefits!

worst choice of media: there were “movies on demand”, so after watching Reality Bites on the cable channel (true story, that was seriously on!) I put on Hairspray, which probably wasn’t the most relaxing choice for me, between the toe-tapping songs and the themes of racial injustice. (I was so wired up and I wondered if my brain waves and heart started freaking out every time they said something that had to do with racism . . . it’s so weird knowing that you are being not only “watched” but monitored in terms of your heart rate and brain waves . . . kind of hard not to submit to the paranoia of “what if they can read your mind?”

biggest epiphany: the next morning, searching YouTube for sleep apnea videos, (the one they showed at the hospital was painfully corny and I was telling the tech that they could’ve made it way funnier) I came across this video (below the fold) of Rosie O’Donnell on The View talking about her own diagnosis and treatment. (If you can deal with Rosie talking about being in bed with her girlfriend) She talks about the shame surrounding her reluctance to be tested for sleep apnea . . . which hit home with me . . . as much as I try to preach size acceptance, there was obviously no denying that this is a disease that is common to (though not exclusive to) fat folks. But I also recognize what I keep hearing, which is that sleep apnea can actually CAUSE more weight gain, and that the resultant daytime sleepiness can make it harder to be able to exercise . . . so the whole “correlation does not prove causation” mantra that was such a part of my undergrad experience is something I need to keep in mind . . .

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sisyphus, or “why didn’t I get a condo?”

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endless    I forget when or where I first even heard of Sisyphus. It seems to me that I was watching a movie that made some reference to it, and I had to ask someone to explain it to me.  but from the moment that image entered my consciousness, his plight has always resonated with me.  This has been nowhere more true than when I have faced a foot of snow covering my sidewalk and driveway. Last year, I “paid” (it was on a credit card, which I’m certain is not yet paid off, so I can’t really say that I’ve “paid” it yet?!) for a service whereby my driveway would be plowed each time it snowed. (I can handle the sidewalk . . . at least, I can handle carving out one little strip of the sidewalk so that it’s free of snow.) This went well, until near the end of the winter, when the driveway went unplowed two or three times in a row. When I called, I was told that his truck had broken down, blah blah blah. Finally, he told me, “I’ll make it up to you next year.” Of course, by the time he spoke those words, I was already quite clear that there was simply not going to BE a “next year” with him . . .

Sadly, however, neither was there a “next year” with anybody else. When it came close to being wintertime again this year, I was completely out of credit cards with which to perform my usual “smoke and mirrors” maneuvers. A neighbor had approached my tenant a few times, and said that he would be willing to shovel our driveway all winter for less than what I had paid the (ultimately delinquent) plow guy.  We took him up on it . . . only to find that he, too, soon flaked out. In one sense, it was okay . . . he had done a really good job a few times, so I tried to tell myself that I’d gotten my money’s worth . . . but at the same time, I was frustrated. Did he assume that he could screw me over because he’d seen someone else do it?

Anyway . . . tonight I shoveled. The city plows had blocked in my driveway in such a way that it was impossible for me to even pull the car in . . . so I did my usual sidewalk path, and then attempted to tackle the driveway. I got about a third of the way through before giving up . . . but it only took me five minutes to pull out my phone and say to myself, “I need to take pictures so that I can blog about this.”

I was so inspired that I almost went inside to get my regular camera. but I didn’t. I didn’t do much of anything. now I am sore, and I still have a buttload of snow in my driveway . . .

um. I don’t think any of this actually has to do with Sisyphus . . . except you’re supposed to get the visual . . . as much as I am trying to push away the mounds of snow, they just keep returning . . .

it’s madness. but now I need to go to sleep and hope & pray that I can get out of bed in the morning . . . because of course now I’m sure that I’m going to die of a heart attack, or at least a backache . . .                                                                      the never-ending snow

ouch, ouch, ouch

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sitting in church tonight, I started to entertain the belief that my most recent illness (sore throat, cough, and now, waking up at 12:30 in the morning with what appears to be pinkeye, combined with a lovely earache!) must mean that I am in trouble in terms of my relationship with God.

 or maybe it’s just germs. who knows.

anyway, I am just writing to say, ow, ow, ow, ow OW my ear is throbbing. and that the internet suggestions to put olive oil and/or peroxide into my ear are just strange enough that I will hold back for now, and go with the advil and melatonin, in hopes of a few more hours of sleep.

 It is at moments like this that I curse this strange belief of mine that cold medicine isn’t useful. Perhaps it WOULD have been useful if I had actually tried it.

anyway . . . in trying to distract myself from the pain in my ear, I was wandering the internet and stopped by the Care Pages website so that I could read updates about a girl from my church and about my bosses’ brother-in-law . . . and while I think that Care Pages offers a great service, I hope it is QUITE clear that, in the (hopefully highly unlikely) event of my contracting some illness, and in the even more unlikely event that I were incapacitated to the extent that I was not able to do my own PR for said illness, that the people around me would have the common sense to realize the huge, not-to-be-denied opportunity in front of them to PROMOTE THE BLOG! Care Pages is great for the non-bloggers among us, but would be a huge disservice to my beloved blog’s ongoing struggle to increase viewership, and as such, I would be hard-pressed to forgive the lack of foresight demonstrated by the use of Someone Else’s Site when a perfectly useful site was already available.

but since this earache is not likely terminal, I think I will cease my rambling now and try to get some sleep. The med center doesn’t open until 9am . . .

things I learned along the way to discovering that it wasn’t cancer

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wow. that title could lead to a very long post. or series of posts. but for now, I’m more interested in posting disgusting photos, as my little brain still isn’t super-cooperative (something to do with the Vicodin?!) 

The

                               I am currently attached to this lovely creature. fun times!

So if this is truly a reprieve from death, then I must have a great deal of thinking/pondering to do . . . except that right now, all I am interested in doing is going back to my bed and sleeping some more . . .

lost a twin, gained a giant gauze pad

I will say that I just have no idea how people deal with chronic illness. I suppose you find the strength, blah blah blah, but here I am with this “minor” outpatient procedure, minimal pain, and yet I am completely wiped out. am I just a wimp?