just an ordinary goddess…

I knew I’d been gone for awhile, with only the weekly Twitter roundups as placeholders and no original content at all, but almost four months? Yowsa. I think I beat my previous “Ordinary Goddess” record by a month (though I was internet persona absentis for about eighteen months in from 2001 to 2003, when I switched from my online journal “Fleeting Imprints” to my Blogspot incarnation “All the Fun of the Fair”).

Anywho, things have been happening around Casa de Carol. Keeping myself relatively healthy, both in body and mind. Started taking Prozac in February, because my life was stalled due to a low-level depression that I just couldn’t kick-start myself out of, as well as an underlying constant anxiety that made me more than a little miserable and insecure, which didn’t help in the relationship department. This, combined with seeing a therapist whom I liked and felt comfortable with instantly, has made some difference. It’s still a bit of a struggle, but far less than it was previously. I’ll be starting a class-type thing next week – recommended by my therapist – which is supposed to help in handling depression and anxiety.

Oh, don’t worry about the previous mention of relationship issues. CuteFilmNerd and I are still very much together, having celebrated our second anniversary in March. It’s been tough for both of us, due to my depression/jealousy/insecurity and the issues that he has (which I will not write about here, as his life is not for public consumption unless he chooses to make it so), but we’re both stubborn people who love each other very much because of our many positive traits and are pretty determined to make this thing work, so we’ve got that going for us.

I will admit that a major issue that he had with me was taken care of in April, when I bought myself an early (and rather expensive) birthday present:

Yep, a new (to me) car – 2007 Suzuki Forenza. After nearly seven carless years, I’m finally experiencing flexible mobility. I have to admit, it’s pretty nice. Needless to say, right now I’m doing the majority of the driving when CuteFilmNerd and I go places. After over two years of hauling me around, it’s only fair. And yes, he seems to be enjoying my chauffeuring duties quite a bit, which I totally get. There were times in my previous car-owning life where I was the primary driver for a carless friend for a number of years that I would’ve liked to occasionally be in the passenger seat. Until she got her own car and proved to be a scary driver, that is.

It’s a good thing I started the Prozac in February, as driving was one of my anxiety triggers, especially at night. Now I’m rarely anxious when driving, which is a huge thing for me.

In addition, Matisse has been doing very well on his current prescription food and revised insulin dosage, full of energy and hardly seeming to be a fifteen year old cat. Edison and B.J. are also doing very well.

I’ve had a yen for cleaning and organizing too. Still more to do, but three of the four main areas of the apartment have seen marked improvements since April and have remained fairly neat and clean. Yay! Now I have to bust my ass on my bedroom and bathroom again, but having several spaces that feel comfortable (including the alcove I am currently typing in) is fantastic. I’m damned well going to keep it up.

Since taming the kitchen I’ve felt like cooking more often, which has given my creativity a new outlet (which is of the good, since my writing creativity has gone the way of the dodo). I’ve discovered that I make a mean vegan shepherd’s pie and that my vegan chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting are most yummy. Also? I can build a damned good vegan reuben.

So that’s the last few months in Le Vie du Carol. I have no idea how long I’ll be writing, or if I’ll write here on a regular basis. I may just opt to post writing exercises meant to tone up those muscles again. If so, I’ll post those in the Writing section of the site and mention them here.

Still, it’s good to see y’all again, even if it is only for a moment.

Take care!

Y’all may have noticed that my site was down for about a week. I’m sorry about that. My yearly hosting came due right when I was trying to pay for vet bills and, well, the site lost out for a little bit. But I’m paid up now, so there should be no blackouts. For at least a year, anyway.

What’s that? What about the vet bills I mentioned? Well, poor Matisse had been having a tough time of it earlier this year. Actually, it’s been since November, which I now realize I never wrote about. He’s getting to the point in his diabetes where his kidneys are being affected, which was discovered when he stopped eating and was not being his usual friendly self and ended up staying at the vet’s for a few days (in addition to a bladder infection, which is also not unusual for diabetic kitties with kidney problems). Matisse was put on a diet specific for cats with kidney issues (and, thankfully, the vet said that Edison and B.J. are old enough that they can eat the same food, because kidney issues may lie in their future too).

Matisse did quite well on the diet for a few months, then was not eating and listless (but not hiding, thank heavens) again in late January. Back to the vet. Another bladder infection, kidneys a little worse, but still manageable. Liquid antibiotics and vitamins ensued, along with an appetite stimulant (2x a day), this last of which he is still taking because he doesn’t eat much without it. As you can imagine, Matisse is not pleased with this medication.

To which I say, too bad. Go ahead and hate me for ten minutes two times a day. At least it gets him to eat.

I’ve had several friends – of both the UCF and non-UCF variety – lose beloved pets this year to ill health and house fire. I’m going to do what I can to make sure Matisse doesn’t join them.

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My own health has been a little on the unpredictable side as of late. During the first week of February I went to the Kaiser Sunset ER with chest pressure/pains, trouble breathing and abdominal pains. I’d been feeling all of these symptoms since the beginning of the year. Thing is, the trouble breathing and chest pressure/pains were familiar to me, as I could easily put them down to stress and asthma, but the abdominal pains? Those were new. And aggravating. The best way to describe how I felt on the day I ended up going to the ER was it felt like someone was punching me in the side while sitting on my chest and occasionally stabbing it.

They kept me overnight and ran tests, including a lovely stress test where I was injected with something to simulate a treadmill test. That was pretty freaky, actually, but faded fairly quickly. Soon after I got back from that test and imaging, the ER internist said I was good to go home – my heart, liver, lungs, kidneys, etc. looked all pretty and healthy and my blood levels were all exactly where they should be. So – yay! Nothing seriously wrong! Boo! Not knowing exactly what it was. He thought it was a muscular/skeletal virus that might have settled in the muscles.

Anywho, long story short (too late) I’ve since seen my new doctor (with whom I am more impressed in one visit than my previous doctor in three years) and she thinks I’ve got a bit of H. pylori happening. And since I have most of the symptoms (except weight loss and vomiting), it’s very likely she’s right. It would certainly explain my abdominal pain and being very hungry 1-2 hours after eating a hearty meal. I just have to bring in a stool sample (which needs to be frozen – eeww!) on Saturday.

So the whole “finally figuring out what’s wrong with me?” That’s of the good. So is the fact that I’ve been taking Prilosec on doctor’s orders since Friday and I haven’t had heartburn since then. Since I’ve been dealing with chronic heartburn on an almost daily basis since my late teens, this is a wonderful feeling indeed. I almost don’t know what to do with myself!

Here’s hoping for a healthy 2010 for all y’all and your pets.

Once upon a time I used to be a klutz. I would run into walls and trip down stairs and slide on non-slippery surfaces with such regularity that, upon falling down four steps in my drama class in high school in front of everyone, a fellow classmate reassured the substitute teacher that I was fine by saying, “Oh, she’s okay. That’s just Carol.” That classmate was right. I was okay. Because I was young and flexible and used to falling (due to not really paying attention to my surroundings or comprehending spatial distances), I rarely got hurt.

Over the years I became more graceful. I noticed my surroundings. My depth perception got better. As a result I now trip and fall far less often. However, when I do exhibit the klutziness of my past, my advanced age and decreased flexibility ensures that I usually manage to hurt myself.

(We shall not speak of the time that my worst sprained ankle was a result of dancing alone in my living room in tennis shoes and landing on the side of my foot. No. I mean it. It is not to be discussed.)

So it is not entirely surprising that when I did battle with a treadmill this morning in JPL’s gym (which is in the basement of the building in which I work), I survived but did not come away unscathed.

It’s my fault. I can’t blame anyone else (except, perhaps, John Scalzi) for me getting so into the beat of “Thunder on the Mountain” by Bob Dylan that my eyes were closed while I was not holding onto the hand grips. Since I wasn’t (say it with me, class) paying attention to my surroundings, my left foot took a misstep and I slid off the treadmill (which has never happened in my 20+ years of using treadmills), scraping up my left knee, landing on my bad right wrist and twisting the right side of my back (the side injured in a car accident three years ago) unnaturally in the process. I didn’t really feel it at first, aside from the scraped knee, so I just jumped right back on and continued with the treadmill until my time was up because, hey! It’s just a flesh wound! As long as I grab the hand grips this time I’ll be fine!

Now that I’ve been sitting at my desk for awhile, the aches have set in, especially in my wrist and arm. I’ve taken Motrin IB to head off most of of the pain, but I think that tonight I’ll be staying in and eating the pain medication that I was prescribed for my back last year after thinking I was fit enough to play tug of war with my sister’s big dog and lift and toss my eight year old niece around like she was a small toddler. Also, I think there’s a big old bruise on my right hip.

And yes, I have witnesses for today’s bit of clumsiness.

Like most people, I was very sad to hear about the cold-blooded murder of Dr. George Tiller on Sunday when he was at church. He performed the procedures many doctors were afraid to do – late-term abortions that were deemed medically necessary to save the life of the mothers or where doctors had confirmed that the fetus would not live outside the womb. Dr. Tiller had been shot before, had many death threats and was forced to wear a bullet-proof vest on a regular basis, but he refused to give into the fear that gripped so many of his colleagues because, as he reportedly told a woman recently, he feared that the women he helped would have no place else to turn.

Candlelight vigils are still being held all over the country, but as Gloria Feldt wrote in Salon, George Tiller needs more than candlelight vigils. As always, write and lobby your representatives. Donate in Dr. Tiller’s name to Planned Parenthood and to the women’s health clinics in your area. Make your voice heard.

(Fellow UCFer Janiece at Hot Chicks Dig Smart Men and Mike at Man About Murfreesboro each have excellent posts regarding this tragedy and the cowardice of the anti-abortion faction. Go there.)

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A little something about my own views on abortion: I am of the opinion that they should be safe, legal and rare. I’ve always known that it was something I could never personally go through, but I am of the firm belief that women should have that choice. The women I’ve known that have had abortions never considered it a decision made lightly and I respect their decisions.

Of the people I’ve known that are anti-abortion, only one could be considered pro-life in the true sense of the term: fellow UCFer Michelle is a pacifist who is against abortion and the death penalty. Unlike so many anti-abortion people who mistakenly call themselves “pro-life,” she actually believes that every child that is born should be provided for and not left to fend for himself/herself in dangerous home situations. She doesn’t self-identify as Christian, but she embodies the teachings of Jesus far more completely than any religious anti-abortion nut protesting outside women’s health clinics. I highly respect that.

As for my thoughts on late-term abortion, I sincerely hope that they would never be necessary, but I understand that in some cases they may be. It’s truly sad that women in need have lost one of their champions – one of the few doctors left that they could turn to.

My thoughts go out to Dr. Tiller’s family, to all the women that he helped and to all the women he could’ve helped.

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Updated: 6/2/09 – 3:45pm

There is some discussion about who, besides the assassin who committed this foul deed, should be blamed for Dr. Tiller’s death. There is definitely an argument to to be made that Bill O’Reilly and his ilk have blood on their hands:

H/T to bstewart23 at This. That. No Other. for the Keith Olbermann clip.

Experts Issue New Heart Disease Guidelines for Women
American Heart Association recommendations now focus on a woman’s lifetime risk

The American Heart Association has updated and sharpened its guidelines for preventing heart disease in women.

The focus now is on a woman’s lifetime risk for heart disease, not just her short-term risk, as was the case in the 2004 guidelines.

The 2007 Guidelines for Preventing Cardiovascular Disease in Women are published this week in a special issue of the journal Circulation devoted to women’s health, and were outlined at an AHA press conference Tuesday.

It’s as if the medical community is realizing that women with health issues aren’t just being hysterical, or that female physiology is different enough from men that maybe diagnosing and treating heart disease needs to be approached from another angle. What a concept.

I admit, it has been my recent health scare that opened my eyes to the disparity in treating women for heart disease – thankfully, in my case, all tests for my heart have come out negative – ie, heart strong and good – including the echocardiogram and stress test. But not all women have been as fortunate. Hopefully doctors will take these new guidelines and run with them.

Oh, not in the diplomatic way, or in the building homes for Habitat for Humanity way (though I’ve done some work with them in the past) or even in a lust in my heart sort of way (though, you know, I have many times since puberty).

No, much like the country over which Carter presided when he spoke of a crisis in confidence, I’m feeling malaise.

All day I’ve tired and achy, with a bit of crankiness thrown in. Bones are too heavy to move. Mucsles think atrophy would be just peachy, swearing that vice-grips hold them in one place. Eyelids threaten to close. Brain wants to shut off and roll under the covers. People completely annoy the crap out of me.

Some moments I’m almost okay, but then a wave of malaise hits me anew, and I just want to crawl under my desk and curl up, waiting for it to go away and hoping I’ll feel better soon.

The timing is, of course, rotten, as I’ll be going to Tucson this weekend with HSTeacher. Sunday BestFriend and her family are having a naming ceremony for her new baby girl and HSTeacher and I will be driving there and back. It’ll be the first time we go on a trip together, so I’m excited. But I’m also feeling a little trepidation, as we’ll be driving fourteen hours round-trip and I am not a fan of long drives. I hope my crankiness clears up by the time we head out of L.A., else I will not be a fun traveling companion.

Of course I have tons of things to do tonight, but I lack the energy to do them. I wish I could take tomorrow off, but I’ll be out of the office on Monday thanks to my treadmill stress test, so taking tomorrow off as well wouldn’t be a good thing.

Too much to do, as usual, and no time to get it all done.

As many of you may know by now, yesterday Molly Ivins passed away, after a long struggle with breast cancer. She was 62.

It’s sobering to look at her age, to realize that when she died, Ms. Ivins was younger than my mother is now.

My commitment to this walk is even keener. Not only am I doing this in honor of my mother – a wonderful woman who’s had too much of life’s darker side kick her in the head – but now in memory of a keenly sharp woman who’s life work was to skewer the pomposity and over-weening arrogance of those who purported to be in service of the American people. She called ‘em like she saw ‘em, and she saw ‘em as clear-eyed as anyone did, and clearer-eyed than most.

RIP, Ms. Ivins. You’re already missed.

It was only yesterday that registered for the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer and set up my fundraising page. Already I have $150 in donations, which is already over half of what I had when I tried the APLA Half-Marathon (I was horrible at fundraising).

Yeah, I’m jazzed. Whee!

(Yet more proof that it really doesn’t take much to make me happy. Such a simple girl, am I.)

…I’ve lost my ever-lovin’ mind.

I know that comes as no surprise to anyone – except the surprise that my mind ever came back for me to lose it again – but, well, I’m throwing myself in over my head again.

“And what is it this time, Carol?” you may ask, slowly backing away with furrowed brow.

I’ve signed up for the the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer.

Oh, stop with the eye-rolling.

It’s not until September, so I have eight months to train and raise money. And, unlike my try at the APLA Half-Marathon, I have a larger circle of people from whom to beg money, plus I am making sure I have the right shoes. I certainly learned my lesson, after injuring both ankles during my half-marathon training. In addition, this will be walking, not running or jogging, which will be much better for my poor, beleagured joints.

Organized training will start in February, but I think it’s time to start my own training. Because while I love to walk, 39+ miles over the course of two days are still a lot.

If y’all are moved to contribute RIGHT NOW, then I can accomodate you: go to my fundraising page and click on the “Click here to support me” button. Also, a button will reside at the top of my link column on the right until the donation deadline (which I don’t know what it is yet). And if you like to see your name scrolling on a webpage, my fundraising page will feature the names of those who contribute.

Now what have I got myself into?

…my heart, I mean.

Yesterday I went and had myself an echocardiogram. Not because anything new had developed, but just as a “Gotta Make Sure” measure. It lasted about half an hour and was pretty easy on my end, since all I had to do was lie on my left side, try not to shiver as the doctor smeared cold clear gel around my left breast and try to relax while the doctor kept pushing the echo transducer into my chest, following the trail of the now-skin-temperature gel. A few times it seemed she pushed the transducer so hard that I’d have bruising, but so far no bruising has developed.

It was actually pretty cool, trying to watch my heart beat on the monitor, seeing my valves open and close regularly and the blood rushing through. I’ve always been fascinated with what doctors and dentists do to my own body. When at the dentist, I like to keep my glasses on, if possible, and watch the action in the metal center of the light, which turns into a mirror if the light is reflected just right (which it usually is). Chances are if I ever had a triple bypass, I’d try to find a way to watch that. This despite the fact that I can be very squeamish and can’t watch anything graphic in movies or documentaries. I could never watch medical documentaries or even the graphic scenes on Nip/Tuck. Hell, I still haven’t seen the steak crawling scene from Poltergeist, even though I’ve seen that movie more times than I can count.

Anywho, good news: she said that everything looked okay to her, but it would be a couple of weeks before the full results would be known. Unless, of course, they saw something immediately that was concerning, in which case I’d get a call from my doctor. But I’m betting that nothing unusual will be found. Which is good, because it’s obvious that having a heart problem would really suck. But there is still a part of me that thinks, “Aha! If they find something physically wrong, then I’ll be vindicated.”

Yeah, I know.

However, it looks increasingly as if the diagnosis is a newly sprouted anxiety disorder. Whee! I’ve been coming to this conclusion as well, especially considering that recently I have felt anxious in situations that have not phased me in the past. Driving, for instance.

Since I don’t have a car, I don’t drive often. I have, however, rented cars in the past when needed and had no problems. Aside from the usual, “All drivers that aren’t me are idiots,” sort of frustration that pretty much every driver in L.A. feels, that is. But on the weekends of 1/13 and 1/20, when I’ve rented cars because I’ve been exceptionally busy, at least a few times while driving I felt some of the symptoms from November and December come back. Nothing bad, and not enough to distract me from my driving (though they did make the drives interminably long), but they were there nonetheless. And this time I really did feel as if it were anxiety that made an appearance, instead of my heart and head deciding to conspire against me.

So guess what I’ll be picking up tonight? Ativan. Oh fucking whee.

I don’t like pills. I take ibuprofen when needed, which is more than I’d like due to my bad neck, but I take the smallest dose I can get away with. I take vitamins when I remember to do so. But that part of me that thinks I should be able to “power through” my anxiety is highly annoyed that I have to resort to taking medication for it.

Don’t get me wrong. I have a number of friends who are taking or have taken medication for anxiety or panic disorders. I fully understand why they’re on such medication and am happy that it helps them out. I’ve seen great improvements in the quality of their lives.

But I still have remnants from my past that tell me I’m the strong one, I can take it, I don’t have to resort to chemical assistance to make my life better. It’s unreasonable, I know that. But there it is.

However, if this medication is going to help me, is going to keep me from experiencing such overwhelming anxiety that I swear I’m having a heart attack or that I’m going to faint while sitting at my desk at work, well, then I’ll take it according to the doctor’s orders, but make sure that I don’t become addicted to it. It’s going to be the lowest dose available, so I think I should be okay on that front.

Hey guys, I’m joining the Benzos club. G-d, I hope there’s no initiation…

…it was nice knowing you. And I mean that sincerely.

2006 marked an interesting time, I have to say. For the first time in a long time, the good outweighed the bad by such a huge margin that I almost can’t remember the bad.

It started out on a somber note, even though I was a little excited about it – unemployed, scared for the health of my mother as she struggled with newly diagnosed breast cancer, coming to grips with the likelihood that I’d be alone for the rest of my life in my little one bedroom Valley apartment with my cats.

Somewhere along the way I picked up as a publisher’s assistant for an Irish newspaper and webmaster for an incredible congressional candidate. Mom’s lumpectomy was wildly successful and now she’s doing very well. I decided that everyone else was right and that George Clooney was damned hot. Somehow my love life was jumpstarted and I went on a lot of first dates (though none of them were with George Clooney). I gained a roommate and a new apartment, though I lost my beloved neighborhood.

Unfortunately, I also lost my dearly beloved Noel, he who was my dearest companion – feline or human – for thirteen years. I’m still filled with extraordinary sadness and I wonder if I’ll ever stop missing him. Also, BabySis moved to Florida, which frequently causes the corners of my mouth to turn downwards. My health has been giving me quite the scare as of late, though nothing has yet been diagnosed. Pluto was demoted to dwarf planet status.

And now? I’m working at JPL, which excites me to no end. I’m making pretty okay money, which is nice for once. In a few weeks I’ll be running to be delegate to the California Democratic Party, which would be very interesting if I get it. I’ll be part of a progressive slate, which will up my chances of being elected.

But most astounding for me? I have a boyfriend. One I’ve been seeing for almost six months. And we’re still getting along very well. Like any couple, we have moments where there are arguments, but we talk it out and try to come to some sort of resolution. We love each other like crazy, which is a wonderful feeling. But we also have enough history between the two of us that our feet remain on terra firma even when our heads are in the clouds.

Turning 40 seemed to have worked out for me. Thank you, 2006.

Here’s hoping that 2007 is even better for all of us.

…not that they realize it.

Not only are caffeinated drinks playing holy havoc with my oh-so-freking-delicate body right now, but even decaf coffee and decaf green tea seem to be sending my head into spirals of light-headedness and my heart into a thumpy little dance. Since I’ve rarely had coffee and tea for the caffeine, it kills me that such taste delights are now out of reach.

When I walk down the hall at work in the morning, smelling all the fresh cups of coffee brought in my various co-workers, I feel my face start pouting and I struggle to restrain my whimpering.

So not right.

At least hot chocolate hasn’t turned against me.

Yet…

But this weekend sure scared me enough to think I wasn’t too far behind.

Okay, that is more than a little hyperbolic, but having to have to go to the emergency room was more than a little jarring.

I had a pretty bad episode on Saturday – HSTeacher had to take me to the emergency room because it lasted much longer than usual. As a rule the epidoses come and go, with maybe a minute or so per episode at the most.

However, when HSTeacher was taking me to the train which would take me home in time for a cable guy appointment (I was planning to join the 21st century and get high-speed internet), I felt an episode start.

We got to the train station and had a few minutes to wait, but the episode just kept happening, even though I did all my usual tricks to calm myself, such as breathing exercises. I warned HSTeacher that I might not be able to get on the train, but I also said that maybe we should get to the platform to see how I felt. We got to the platform and I had to lean against a pole. It was not good, so I sat down for a few moments while he held me, then we went back to his place.

I laid down, thinking that maybe I needed to rest a bit, but we started to look up emergency rooms in the area, just in case. Ten minutes later I told my honey that we had to go to the emergency room, because my whole body started tingling. I sat up and swung my legs over the side, but the thought of standing on my own was too much to bear, so HSTeacher had to help me up and helped me out to his car. I could walk, but it was slow going and I was more than a little wobbly.

We got to the hopsital and, as we parked, a new symptom appeared: my right hand just started shaking, though not for long. We did the whole check-in rigmarole and soon afterwards the nurses got me into the triage portion, though I had to wait quite a while for a technician to perform my EKG – the hospital was extremely busy. Of course, as is the case of every other EKG I’ve had since October, it was a lovely EKG in every way, suitable for framing. However, not everything was so hunky dory: my normally on-the-low-side-of-normal blood pressure was up to 143/82 and my heart rate was at 101 – the chances are that it had come down by that point.

Since it was ascertained that I wasn’t having a heart attack – at least not at that moment – back out to the waiting room I went (HSTeacher had been chased out of the triage area earlier due to space issues – too many people back there as well). So we waited for another few hours, with his arm around my shoulder, my head on his shoulder and his head resting on mine. At one point I was feeling better and he was starting to doze, so we switched and I rested his head on my chest. We were way too sweet for words.

All told we were in the emergency room for about five to six hours. Finally I asked one of the nurses if she had a rough estimate about much longer it would be before my name was called. Because of the extreme business of the ER, she couldn’t even give me a ballpark figure. At that point I was feeling much better (though very tired) so we left, because we could have been sitting there for another three to four, if not more. (One guy had gotten there three hours before we did – at 5am – and he was still waiting at 1pm)

So Saturday’s episode lasted over three hours. Worst. Epiosde. Ever.

I also started my period on Saturday, which didn’t help me feel any better. The whole day was me sleeping off and on, HSTeacher being very solicitous, trying to keep his kids as quiet as possible, bringing me a heating pad for my abdomen and making sure I got the sleep I needed. Admittedly there was one time we clashed, but that was through a misunderstanding that we cleared up, and he was the perfect boyfriend. Of course.

Sunday I was still feeling off, but well enough to head back home and attend a political meeting. MusicianMan and I talked a bit about what’s been going on with me and he made some good suggestions, also agreeing with what I’ve been doing to narrow this thing down.

I am feeling much better now. I went for my previously scheduled follow-up this morning, where a new wrinkle entered the scene. My blood pressure decided to have a little fun today. Around 9:30am it was taken and registered at 116/72. Pretty good. But, only an hour later it was taken again. This time? 130/83. And thirty minutes later my docotor took my blood pressure again, in both arms, with the old fashioned stethescope/BP cuff method, and it hovered around 140/85.

For criminey’s sake.

So Doc is putting me on a low dose of beta blockers. And baby aspirin.

Woo Fucking Hoo.

Who knows what’s going on? I sure don’t. But I am going to continue to work on my eating habits, just to see how much that helps, and I’m going to eat out a lot less than I have. Instead I’m going to prepare a lot more of my own foods, eat as much organic food as possible, because there is the possibility I’ve developed a sensitivity to something. And get right back on the supplements that I negelected a little last week because my schedule was thrown off so much. And I’ll know next week the results of my Holter monitor test.

I’m really getting tired of all of this. Can I go back to feeling relatively healthy again? Please?

Yesterday I went and done got myself a Holter monitor strapped to my chest:

Five lovely electrodes were taped to several strategic points, including under my breasts. It’s always kinda funny when electrodes have to be placed there, because the nurses – all female – are always a little hesitant, especially since I possess rather large breasts that tend flop a bit, what with them belonging to a plus-size 40 year old and all. I always just grab them and hoist them out of the way, which they appreciate (the nurses, not the breasts – I don’t think the breasts like to be hoisted much).

I wore the monitor until 11am today, whereupon it automatically switched off and was unstrapped. It looks so innocent, sitting there, all turned off:

But it’s not, because the tape that was used to keep the wires from moving and catching and dislocating the electrodes itched like a mo-fo. The itchiness got so bad last night that I had to take melatonin to fall asleep, even though I was exhausted.

And it wasn’t just that the itchiness nearly drove me out of my mind. The electrodes marked me for life:

Or at least for several hours afterwards. That mark was near my left clavicle.

I’m going back to the second clinic on Monday morning for a follow-up, but I did have a few episodes yesterday. Not bad ones, but there was definitely some dizziness and palpitations. One was on my way to the hospital, but the rest should have been caught by the monitor. However, unless something serious is found, I won’t hear the results for another couple of weeks.

I really hope I don’t hear from them for another couple of weeks.

…all is not right with the world.

I have an incipient headache and I’ve promised to babysit for ModelGirl and her hubby tonight. LilR should be in bed before they leave, so hopefully there will be a minimum of toddler angst. I mean, he’s a good kid, and I like babysitting him, but he’s still a toddler.

On top of that, I am out of kettle corn.

At least I’ve refreshed my ice water…

…too bad I’m not excited about it.

Things have been going far too well in the World of Carol, so I’ve kinda been expecting the other shoe to drop any second. It seems like it just might have done so.

A couple of weeks ago I went to a clinic to have tests run on my heart and blood and the like. Everything tested normal, including my thyroid, so there should be nothing to worry about, right?

Not so much.

On Saturday there was a moment where I got into HSTeacher’s waterbed and laid down, suddenly short of breath with some pressure in the chestal area. It lasted for a few minutes, but HSTeacher was sleeping at the time and I didn’t want to wake him, and it went away. I started to think, however, that maybe I should go back to the doctor’s, especially as I had I’d recently read that symptoms of heart disease in women are different than those in men and almost every symptom listed has been experienced by me. The only one that I haven’t experienced were the cold sweats or clamminess, but I have had a few moments where I’ve been unusually cold. Then again, the weather has been cold as of late, so who knows.

Yesterday I had an episode of my usual symptoms: feeling a bit faint, heart palpitations, chest pressure, a little short of breath, inexplicably exhausted. I even experienced pain in my right arm, which was new for me. I was merely sitting down at the time, attending an impeachment town hall and not expending much energy. It subsided a bit, but the rest of the evening I felt off.

So this morning I went to another clinic in my network, one that is closer to home than the previous one and is actually on my way to work, so I could possibly get into work in the afternoon (which is where I am now). ECG, bloodwork, more fun tests, whee!

The upshot of the consultation? On Thursday I get to go to my local county hospital, which is affiliated with UCLA and, I believe, has a good cardiology department – I’m doing research on them now – and pick up a heart monitor. I don’t know yet how long I’ll have to wear it, but i hope it’s not too long – I’m not supposed to shower while wearing it. I don’t know about y’all, but I tend to get a little stinky if I go more than one day without showering.

And here is one example of the type of monitor I’ll be wearing:

Pretty, no?

Okay, no.

Still, it wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the fact that I may have to wear it strapped across my chest with a shoulder strap:

Yep, that’s how I’ll look with my lovely new electronics. Except I expect to be wearing clothes over the monitor. And to look less masculine. Most likely I’ll still have breasts.

I’ll go back to the clinic on Monday for a follow-up. Oh joy.

I know I’m a bit of a gadget geek, but this? This is one gadget I could definitely do without.

Okay, damnit, who dropped that damned shoe?