…And she’s back again

Hey out there. I know I’ve been gone for a long time again. This time there’s just been so much bad stuff and I’ve been SO depressed I couldn’t muster the energy to even put it all down in words.

So, in a nutshell:

My boss wants me out. She has been riding me since last October (when without a single warning removed me from salary to hourly over attendance I had never been told was a problem) and had been making a bi-weekly to monthly habit of keeping a little list of all the things I do wrong, saving them up until she has a long enough list to pull me into a little ‘You’re a loser’ meeting. Things like not completing a task that was not in my job description that I had asked for training on repeatedly and was not given… Or not updating her on another project where I was able to prove to her she had received the email and lost it. Everytime, I took the criticisms and swore I’d do better, kept a good attitude and told myself I wasn’t being targeted.

Finally, mostly from the stress, anxiety and a grueling schedule that was hard on me physically, one moning BOOM! I threw my back out big time. My husband called my boss and let her know we were going to the ER. I called her later that day under medication and told her I needed to be off my back a certain time. I guess I mixed up the days, because she apparently expected me back a day before I came back. All smiles, so concerned about my health, she says ‘meet with me this afternoon so I can make sure you’re alright’…

We sit down and she goes over FMLA stuff with me, so nice and concerned, wants me to take time off and get better. Like I didn’t see the blank folder in her hand, like I didn’t know what was inside it. I’m so tired of these games.  SO she finishes off with whipping out a written warning and hitting me with that before telling me to go home.

My doctor insisted I go on full time FMLA. I didn’t want to do that, but EVERYBODY insisted they HAD to hold my specific position for me if I was back within 12 weeks. People, DON”T BELIEVE IT. The very day I handed in my FMLA paperwork from the doctor my specific position was posted. I have had nerve block shots. An epidural. A discography, which TOTALLY sucked. Meanwhile, I am trapped in my house unable to do anything, and my boss hires a SECOND person for my specific position. Evidently I was lazy and unproductive but as soon as I went on leave it was determined TWO people were required to handle the workload… I just love it.

Tell me kids, do you think she’s waiting with baited breath for my return? She’s already cleared out my cubicle to make way for one of the people taking my job, she and the rest of “my pals” packed up all my personal belongings and shoved them under a desk.

So here I sit, waiting for the end of the month, when I will undergo spinal fusion surgery to save a job I know I’ve already lost. And how did I lose it? I did what everyone told me to do, and tried to be nice about it. Yay me.

God, I loved my job. I thought the people I worked with liked me. Not one person in my department has even sent me an email since I left. Apparently it was my evil plan to get hurt to make their day suck. Shame on me.

The pain pills don’t work. None of the therapies so far have worked. I am scared to death of this surgery, we are talking about my SPINE here.

Meanwhile my dear husband juggles work and home, manages everything on one salary right now because there have been repeated ‘mishaps’ with my disability money and I haven’t seen a dime of that yet, and it’s been almost seven weeks. I don’t know how he has managed the stress, and me being a basket case on top of it all. I am climbing the walls here – I don’t go anywhere, I don’t see anyone. Certainly no one cares to see me. And I am losing it.

Wow… big nutshell, huh? I’m exhausted. I need to go lie down, this computer chair sucks. It’s Percocet time.

Yay me.

Not Normal… but at least Unchanged

So a few days ago the Doctor’s Assistant left me a voicemail, regarding the results of my recent brain MRI. He stated that ‘The results from my most recent MRI scans indicate my condition is unchanged’.

I love how they do that.

See, they can’t tell me the results are NORMAL. Ever since a neurosurgeon went in there and removed a golf-ball-sized mass from the center of my brain stem, my condition has not been ‘normal’. Ever since a month before that when the mass filled with blood and then ruptured, causing a hemmorhagic stroke, my condition has not been ‘normal’. They can’t use the word NORMAL when referring to my brain. I just get a kick out of it. They can’t do it. So they have to use the word UNCHANGED, to tell me that there is no cause for worry and that it still looks as good as it’s gonna get.

I’m glad things are unchanged; it’s pretty much what I expected. I figure I’ve gone this long without any recurrence, I’d be surprised to see problems of a neurological nature start popping up now. But hey, I guess you never know.

Some people are so obsessed with being normal. I think most people who know me could testify I am not one of them. I am hardly concerned with the latest fashion or the hottest accessories; give me some comfy jeans and pirate T-shirts and I’m good to go.  In most areas of my life, I’m fine with new things, new experiences.

This is one arena, however, in which I am happy to remain ‘unchanged’.

Road Map of Owwies

 

Burns. Scars. Bruises. Pains. Heartaches. Fears. All kinds of hurts, from all kinds of experiences. As you grow older, they begin to pile up on you, and you get to where your body and mind tell their own stories. This scar is from the flesh-eating fungal infection I got on my arm six years ago. That burn is from my teen years when I wasn’t good at dealing with my problems in healthy ways. This scar is from my carpal tunnel release surgery; that one is from all the time I spent in the hospital with IVs in my arm during and after my brain surgery episode. Oh, that reminds me of my best scar…

I’m getting to that point in my life where the scars help me remember my stories. Without them, some things I’ve experienced would probably start to fade in my memory. I don’t think my scars are ugly… they’re just part of my story. And I have a lot of them, inside and out. They all play a part in shaping me, one way or another. The two diagonal slash marks on my left middle finger are from slicing my finger while trying to help my mom cut potatoes when I was just five; that is probably my oldest scar. The funniest one is probably the one on my shoulder where I accidentally buried a luer during a bad cast while fishing one day. My most recent? Hard to say; perhaps the deep burn on my right palm, from a cigarette lighter. Or the internal scar that led to it…

So many women obsess about scars, about covering them, about how unsightly they are. Me, I don’t have any problem with my scars. They help me remember what makes me, ME. I’m okay with that. The good and the bad, the ups and the downs, it’s all there.

(In between all the tattoos, of course.)

Brain scans, and other things

So, I came home from work yesterday to find a voicemail on my message machine from the eye doctor’s assistant saying they had already scheduled my MRI appointment for this coming Monday. I have to arrive an hour early so they can give me the little pill that makes it okay to shove me all the way in that tight little tube and leave me there for an hour while all the horrible noises go on all around me. And since they’re giving me the little pill, I have to have someone to drive me home.

This is ridiculous. I have such a high tolerance to the little pill, they could give me three or four and I could still pass a field sobriety test without blinking. Oh, I know it’s procedure, its protocol, it’s for the hospital’s safety as well as my own… but it’s still stupid. Now I have to hope my husband will be available to drive me all the way uptown in the middle of the day Monday, which I won’t know until he gets back from Italy, which won’t be until late Sunday night, by which time it will be far too late to reschedule. Arrrgh, why do things have to be so complicated all the time?? On a lighter note, I started taking the medication he prescribed, and maybe it’s too soon to tell, but my eye seems steadier already…

I thought it would be nice housesitting for a week while my husband was away, being back in my house again, but I find that staying there as a visitor is really bizarre and frustrating. Things are weird right now; I’m feeling pulled halfway between two worlds – the married world and the separated world, and I don’t feel like I belong entirely in either one right now. I feel… displaced, I guess. It’s an odd feeling, and I don’t know quite what to do with it.

Part of me is sure that eventually I will move back home and resume my marriage. But another part of me believes that to do so would only continue the unhappiness I had been feeling for years. Things seem much better now, but is it only because I’m gone? He treats me differently, but is it only because he’s trying to get me back home? Would it last, or would he go back to being the same indifferent, distant roommate he was before? I know this is why we are in counseling. And it’s early yet. But I just wish there were easy answers, and I know there aren’t. What to do, what to do??

Disturbed and the Jiggly-Eye

Tired, tired, TIRED…. Falling asleep at work today. Disturbed played last night, and in spite of fighting for a good spot for my smallish 16 year old in a general admission venue, the show was AWESOME. We had a total blast! Skindred opened, and I have to say I liked them even more than the second band, Sevendust. But when Disturbed finally took the stage, there was no question who dominated the entire evening, hands down. I was pleased to find that Disturbed is a band that plays as well live as on their CDs… awesome, awesome show. We came, we saw, we got T-shirts.

Then I had to get up early this morning and go all the way uptown for a neuro-opthalmic eye appointment, to address this eye-bobbing issue. What a nightmare. I would have given ANYTHING to sleep in this morning! Then I got lost trying to get there, was half an hour late… good thing they were nice about it and didn’t make me reschedule. Anyway, the assistant put me through the regular tests, read this, point at that, you know the drill. Then she starts talking about dilating my eyes… I’m like, ‘What?  No no no! I have to WORK today! I have an AUDIT! I NEED my eyes!’ Just then the doctor came in and looked me over, talked to me about my symptoms and all. Turns out he didn’t need me dilated after all, thank goodness! He has prescribed me a medication normally used for parkinsons’ disease, but that has been found to work in cases of “Jiggly Eye” (That’s exactly what he called it, I’m not kidding).

And of course, he wants the ever-predictable follow-up MRI, ‘just to be sure nothing has changed’. Which is Doctor-speak for ‘Hey, New Year, new deductible, let’s get to spending!’ I have been getting occasional follow-up MRIs for the past 18 years; nothing changes, other than the amount I owe. It’s pointless. But God forbid I forego the MRI one time it’s offered, and I end up having some bizarre re-growth of the cavernoma that goes unnoticed until it bleeds out and I’m dead. That would be just my luck.

No, really, I’m serious, if you knew me, you’d know that WOULD be just my luck. Totally.

I even got lost on my way back from the place, couldn’t find the freeway to save my life, didn’t get to work until 11:30, and my auditor was almost ready to leave. Thank goodness for good coworkers who know how to pitch in when I can’t be around. They had already taken care of all his questions, given him the tour, the whole nine.  There was hardly anything for me to do but make my introductions. Yay coworkers!

So here I sit, ears ringing from last night, going on not near enough sleep, knowing I need to stay late to make up for coming in late….ugh.

But was Disturbed worth it?

Heh… yeah.

The Longest week EVER

Man, I can’t wait for tomorrow to be over; this has been the longest week in history. Take a three day Regulatory Accreditation audit, add in two additional sponsor audits, throw in three bad weather days where travel is a nightmare, and an eyeball that is steadily growing more and more unsteady – I’ll tell you, it takes it out of ya. I am BEAT.

But, I just have to get through tonight with the kids, and tomorrow at work, and then I’m free for a few days. Free to sleep in, free to bum around, free to do nothing or anything. Free to get a little REST.

Just… 24… hours…

Got… to hang… on…

Come on, Mags, keep it together. I know I’m just worked up because I have to battle Satan tonight when I get home…. Oh yeah, TOTALLY addicted to Guitar Hero. And here I thought I bought that Wii for my kids… HA!

I have to say it is amazing how much activity you put in to things without even realizing it. I tried bouncing soccer balls off my head for just a few minutes last night and today my whole core aches. I mean, muscles I couldn’t target if I TRIED. It’s pretty cool!

Where’s my Advil?? WHERE’S MY ADVIL PEOPLE????

Another Lost Weekend

Well here it is Sunday night, and I should be heading off to bed. I had a weird weekend. I went out last night with my friend D, to shoot some pool and have some drinks, and ended up getting picked up on by what can only be described as “Conan O’Brien Meets Deliverance”. Ugh, is this what I have to look forward to? Mike comes back from his trip in the next day or two, and it would be really great if he’s done some serious thinking and wants to stick around, but I have to be ready for the real probability that he has spent the last ten days psyching himself up to come back and end it. The thing that sucks is he makes me feel sexy and beautiful and all this great shit, and in the real world guess what? I’m old, and fat, and I don’t have a chance. Oh, boo hoo Mags, shut up. I know. I feel like such an idiot. I don’t want to go OUT THERE. So… I guess the thing to do is get ready to enjoy being alone, if that’s what it comes to. God, I need hobbies.
My right eye has been bouncing almost nonstop for almost a week now and it’s really starting to freak me out. I have residual optic muscle damage from the stroke I had when I was a teenager, and about 2 years ago that eye started drooping, so I had to have special prisms put in my glasses to stop seeing double. It’s degenerative; I’m worried that this new twitch/bounce thing is the next stage in my ever-failing eyesight. If so, that could really, really suck. I don’t think they make lenses for that. I need to see to do my job, ya know?
Man, I picked a great time to strike out on my own. Not that I would take it back.

All Gastropresis and no play makes Magpye a pissy missy

Well, after a few months where I was actually feeling human and dared to hope the worst might be behind me, it looks now like the old GP has reared its ugly head. I haven’t eaten solid food for about 4 days now, and still I feel like I have a tiny Nacho Libre in my abdomen giving my stomach a constant Anaconda Squeeze.
Gastroparesis, for those who don’t know, which is most people, is a disorder where the nerves in your stomach become paralyzed and you can’t move food through your digestive system normally. Symptoms can range from nausea, intense abdominal pain, lack of appetite, to constipation and/OR the opposite, sometimes back and forth which is particularly entertaining.
At my worst this summer there were times I could hardly bring myself to drink lukewarm water. At best, I could sometimes even have some meat – fish, or chicken. Sadly, my Prime Rib days are over! *sigh*…
The upside: during 2007 I lost over 50 pounds. Trust me, I could spare it.
The downside: Gastroparesis sucks, it hurts, and there is no cure. Some people get it as a secondary disorder casued by complications from diabetes or pancreatitis, but for those of us who have no other relatable issues, there’s not much that can be done. There’s an expensive drug that I can order from New Zealand because the FDA never approved it for sale in the US, and it helps a little sometimes. Other times, I thank God that Ensure and SlimFast taste better than they used to. At least I can get some vitamins and protein, when I can’t eat anything else.
Well I guess I’ll make the most of it – a grey dreary Utah day and I’m home sick – I might as well catch up on the laundry, right?
bleah….