A list, because, really, that’s all I can manage right now

• Talked to the pediatrician last week.  Miss Attitude’s VEP test was normal.  I asked the doc if - since the MRI of her brain and the VEP test were both normal - we had officially ruled out MS.  He said, “No.  It just means she doesn’t have any symptoms of MS right now.”  We see the neurologist May 1st.
• I continue to be a nervous wreck, in a perpetual state of high-anxiety.  My doc put me on Buspar for anxiety a few weeks ago.  I can’t really tell that it’s helping, but that may be because I’m supposed to take it three times a day and I almost NEVER remember all three doses…which, of course, causes even more anxiety as I fret about missing my medication.
• I’ve been a terrible blog friend lately, and I apologize for that.  If it’s any consolation at all, I’ve been a terrible Real Life friend, too.  I’ve just been too stressed out and exhausted lately to be much of a friend to anyone.  But my blog friends are never far from my mind and heart.  Love and hugs to you all.

I know! I’m posting two whole days in a row! Go. Me.

I’ve been absent (not blogging much) or semi-absent (reading blogs, but not commenting much) from the blogworld quite a bit lately.  For those of you who don’t know what’s been going on, here’s an excerpt from an email I sent recently (this will also help you “catch up,” if you missed the last few entries):

Miss Attitude started having headaches a few weeks ago.  I knew she’d mentioned them a few times, but I didn’t think too much of it - thought it might be allergies or something - until I ended up having to pick her up from school because her head was hurting so badly.  We saw the pediatrician the next day.  He gave her a very thorough exam, checked her vision, and paid close attention to her eyes.  He then referred us to an ophthalmologist, who found some swelling of her optic nerves.  The ophthalmologist sent Miss A for an MRI of her brain, which came back normal (except for showing a sinus infection, for which she’s on antibiotics now).  The ophthalmologist and the pediatrician were thinking she probably had pseudotumor cerebri, which occurs when the body either produces too much cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) or doesn’t absorb the CSF quickly enough; the excess fluid puts pressure on the brain which causes the headaches, optic nerve swelling, and can lead to loss of vision if left untreated.

Unfortunately, the next step in the diagnosis was a lumbar puncture (spinal tap), wherein they would determine the amount of pressure in the CSF.  Miss A had that done in [larger town an hour away, where we go for doctor appointments and shopping] on Thursday, February, 8th.  Her pressure turned out to be in the normal range, and the pediatrician said it was entirely likely the pseudotumor had resolved itself; apparently, that’s not uncommon.  At that point, we were just kind of keeping an eye on things until we returned to the ophthalmologist in a couple of weeks and he could check to see if her optic nerve was still swollen.  Then we’d figure out where to go from there.

So we thought we had pretty good news, and thought everything was getting better…well, except for the fact that Miss A was having severe headaches - even worse than before we started all this, but those headaches were likely due to the spinal tap itself.  Then the pediatrician called Thursday afternoon (2/15) and said one of the tests the lab had done on Miss A’s spinal fluid had come back abnormal.  They found a “protein band” in the CSF that shouldn’t have been there.  The pediatrician said it’s uncommon to find that protein band in the CSF of a child.  It’s usually found in adults, and when they do find it, it’s usually an indicator of Multiple Sclerosis (MS).

Since MS is a disorder of the nervous system, the next steps for Miss A are nerve tests, another MRI, and an appointment with a neurologist.

She’ll have an MRI of her spine this coming Thursday (2/22) at 9:00 AM in [larger town].

No one in [larger town] does the nerve tests, so we’ll have to go to [Big City, even further away] for that.  Miss A will have an EEG and a VEP (Visually Evoked Potential) test on Tuesday, March 13th at 8:00AM.

The neurologist appointment is tentatively scheduled for May 1st, but the pediatrician’s office is planning to call and reschedule that as soon as Miss A’s tests are done.  Her pediatrician wants her seen within a month.

I won’t lie to you.  I’m scared.  I’m totally freaked out.  I’m trying to hide that from the kids, but I’m a nervous wreck.  I’m eating everything within a 10 foot radius (15 if it’s chocolate), which may not be as bad as binge drinking or doing drugs to handle the stress, but it’s destructive nevertheless.  My depression’s getting worse - I can feel it trying to take over.  All I want to do anymore is curl up in the dark and sleep.  And I’ve developed nervous twitches in my eyes.  Lovely.

And here I am going on and on about me, but it’s my sweet baby girl I’m asking you to pray for and/or send good thoughts/vibes to.  I’m so worried about her.  We didn’t want to scare her, so all we told her was that one of the tests on her spinal fluid came back abnormal, that there was “something” there that wasn’t supposed to be there, and she has to have more tests to find out what’s going on in her body.  I’m just so damned angry that she’s having to go through this.  She’s been through so much already.  I just want to scream to the heavens, “JUST GIVE HER A FUCKING BREAK ALREADY!”  (Please forgive my anxiety-ridden use of the f-word, there.)

Okay, now that you’re caught up, here are a couple of updates:

• Miss A’s MRI yesterday went well, but it took OVER. TWO. HOURS.  Geez.  Deputy Dad took her for that one (SuperBoy had speech therapy yesterday morning.  I took Miss A for the last MRI, so she decided to let Dad take her this time so she could “show him how it works.”)
• Miss A’s headaches lasted for about a week after she had the spinal tap.  Then she finally got some relief, and hasn’t had much trouble with headaches at all in the last week.
• I was surprised to hear from the pediatrician yesterday afternoon at 4:00.  The MRI wasn’t finished until after 11:00 AM, but he already had the results:
  The MRI was NORMAL.  I repeat, NORMAL.  (YIPPEE!)
• Since the MRI was normal (Normal!  YAY!), the pediatrician says we’ll just keep the May 1st appointment with the neurologist.  We’ll still go March 13th for the nerve tests.

Deputy Dad and I breathed a huge sigh of relief after the pediatrician’s call yesterday.  We’re still a bit worried about what the nerve tests will or won’t show, and where we go from there, but at least we’ve gotten one worry out of the way with one simple word: Normal!

The stress from all of this is definitely taking its toll…mentally, physically, emotionally, psychologically…and with all the doctor appointments, tests, missed work, and the gas for all the trips back and forth to [larger town] - not to mention whatever snacks/drinks/meals are necessary during the course of each trip - this situation is definitely taking a financial toll on us, as well.  So imagine my delight when a Mr. Samba Ibrahim emailed me from the African Development Bank and asked for my assistance in “a legitimate arrangement” concerning 25.6 million dollars in unclaimed funds!  He didn’t specify what sort of “personal information” he needs, but he did express a sense of urgency, so I figure I’ll just send him my name, address, phone number, social security number, and a copy of my credit report, complete with credit card and bank account numbers.  That should give him enough info to get me well on my way to my financial windfall, shouldn’t it?

“Love is not consolation. It is light.” — Nietzsche

Even the smallest light permeates the darkness.

Last week, in the midst of my stressing and worrying, The Drama Queen and Miss Attitude unexpectedly surprised me with this keychain, purchased with their own money, and without my knowledge:

They called it an “early Thanksgiving present.”  I called it a flicker of light.

I’m down with OCD, yeah you know me

Maybe it’s the depression, threatening to capsize my little lifeboat as it roars and swells in angry waves.

Maybe it’s the stress, recently reaching near-record levels and jeopardizing the precarious state of my anxious mind.

Whatever the cause, the effects are cropping up in some rather unconventional ways.

You remember I told you about my odd need for physical even-ness? (If you’re just tuning in, please see #90 on my 140 Things About Me page. As if that weren’t idiosyncratic enough in and of itself, I’ve recently developed a few other peculiarities…

I am, apparently, physically incapable of taking the top cup off of a stack of disposable cups. Each workday morning, I arrive at the office and get a cup of coffee. I reach for a styrofoam cup, and…

I pick up at least four or five cups off the top of the stack, so that I can take a cup from the middle. I do this at fast-food joints and convenience stores, too. I think it stems from being neurotically worried about putting my mouth on a cup someone else has touched. Because I know that not everyone washes their hands as obsessively as I do. Which brings me to the next manifestation of my mental meltdown…

I am constantly aware of everything I touch, who might have touched it before me, and what germs I might be unknowingly acquiring. So I wash my hands eleventy thousand times a day, until they’re dry and chapped and raw. (But hey, I don’t use a new bar of soap for each hand-washing, like Jack Nicholson’s OCD character in As Good As It Gets. I’m not that bad … … yet.)

I think I had more to post about, but as I was perusing that IMDB link (that movie’s one of my favorites), I came across this quote:

Sell crazy someplace else, we’re all stocked up here.

And on that note, I think I’ll go curl up in the corner and cry.

Pending FDA Approval

If I could only bottle Super Boy’s* giggle…it would be the most powerful anti-depressant known to man.

~

*Due to his recent obsession with Superman, Spiderman, The Incredibles, and any other super-hero type characters, The Toddler Formerly Known as Big Boy shall now be known as Super Boy.

It’s dark here, just now…

…so dark, sometimes, that I cannot imagine there ever was a light. I cannot feel its warmth, cannot see even the faintest glow, cannot close my eyes and see the shadow of what is before me.

And yet…

…sometimes I look at my son, breathe in his scent, listen to his sweet voice, his new words…sometimes I watch my daughters in awe, marvelling at how they are transforming from little girls to young ladies, before my very eyes, holding on to them…SO tightly, now, not wanting to let go of the little girls, but also so proud they are becoming such remarkable people, such individuals, and then…

…and then the light. So bright, so warm…surrounding me, embracing me, giving me strength to JUST. HOLD. ON.

And so I am. Holding on.

“Hi, how are you,” I say, without meaning it…

…What I mean is, “Please accept my acknowledgement of your existence and let me be on my way,” which is what everyone means when they say, “hi, how are you” to an acquaintance.

She answers.  “Fine.”  Or “hot.”  I’m not sure which, not that it matters.  We’re all hot.  Even with the cooler temperatures - highs in the high 80s to low 90s, rather than the high 90s to 100+ - we’re all still fighting off the stifling humidity.

I transfer everything from the shopping cart to the minivan, stopping briefly to realize I have a horrible headache.  As I turn around to return the shopping cart, an elderly gentleman appears, wearing a name tag and gathering carts.  I give him my cart, thank him, and am saddened at the thought of so many senior citizens working for a huge retail giant, greeting customers at the door, scanning an endless array of bar codes and collecting shopping carts.

I fasten my seat belt and look up in time to see an elderly woman pushing her cart to her car.  Knowing I am already running behind and will be late to work, I hesitate a moment before I unfasten my seat belt and get out of the car.  I go to her and offer to help her unload her shopping cart, but she declines, and I know why.  She’s fiercely independent, taking pride in her self-sufficiency.  As I turn to leave, I secretly hope that when I’m her age - her great-grandchildren go to school with my children - I’ll be as spunky and spirited as she.

Driving down the main street, I fight back tears when I see his work truck at the Mexican restaurant.  He had invited me to lunch, but I had errands to run, things to do, mundane matters to mind.  If I don’t take care of things, who will?  No one, that’s who.  And suddenly I am completely overwhelmed again, lost in the lists of things to do, drowning in the details.

A quick stop at the grocery store finds me jockeying with a senior citizen for a view of the grocery shelf.  My “excuse me” sounds surprisingly flat, and I worry I’ve hurt her feelings, this woman I don’t even know, this woman who is someone’s wife, mother, grandmother.  And I fight back tears, realizing how ridiculous I would look, crying in the grocery store, birthday cake decorations in one hand and a tub of Country Crock in the other.

Driving home, my thoughts are flooded with to-do lists and schedules.  I turn off the music; the noise in my head is more than I can bear.  I acknowledge the headache again, briefly rubbing my neck with my left hand, trying in vain to relieve the pressure.  The pain in my gut returns, and I find myself hoping premenstrual cramps are to blame.  PMS is so much more welcome than that old, familiar darkness.

A post about not posting

If I had the time and energy to blog everything I’ve wanted to share with you…

 …I’d write a humorous (or humourous, for you Canadian folk), yet poignant essay about taking the The Drama Queen and Miss Attitude school-clothes shopping a couple weeks ago.  I’d tell you what a great day we had, just the three of us girls shopping together; I’d tell you how much fun it was to go shopping with them, now that they’re getting old enough to really enjoy clothes-shopping; and I’d tell you how I alternated between grinning absurdly and tearing up, so full was my heart.

…I’d post more about going off my antidepressants.  I’d share with you how horribly, horribly tough it was that first weekend; how I was curled in a ball on the couch, crying uncontrollably; how, long after the crying jags were over, I felt frequent “zaps” - like sudden electrical surges - going through my body several times an hour, making my face, hands and arms tingly and thoroughly freaking me out.

…I’d tell you that the worst of the withdrawal seems to be behind me, and that I’ve started to see glimpses of someone from my past, someone I haven’t seen in a very long while…ME.  And wow, hi, how are you, it’s really good to see Me again.

…I’d write about my current state, that of perpetual nervous wreck, because despite happily failing a home pregnancy test, I STILL haven’t started my period.  I had my tubes tied after Big Boy was born, so I really shouldn’t worry; but my last period was June 12th, fer cryin’ out loud.  Enough already with the worrying and waiting.

…I’d tell you about Big Boy’s evaluation with the speech therapists, who assessed his current speech development at 18 months (he’s 26 months old), and how, rather than being worried or stressed out about the prospect of the speech therapy and the work we have ahead of us, I’m actually relieved that we’re doing something about his speech delay, and I’m eager to get his therapy started.

…I’d wow you with a post about my awesome husband, and how HE planned a day for the two of us to celebrate our anniversary and my birthday, how HE made arrangements for his parents to keep the kids yesterday so he and I could go to [larger town an hour away where we go for doctor appointments and shopping] for dinner and a movie, how the whole thing was HIS idea, and how HE actually started planning it over a month ago.

…I’d tell you how much fun Deputy Dad and I had yesterday, giggling like prepubescent boys at the crude humor (humour) of Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby; how we held hands as we walked through the mall together; how we stuffed ourselves unmercifully at the Outback and groped each other inappropriately on the drive home.

…I’d write another humorous (humourous) essay about treating myself to a bra fitting for my birthday yesterday, and how the sweet little sales girl who offered to measure me had NO CLUE, really, what she was doing, but turned out to be quite helpful anyway.  And of course I’d tell you how my girls are now traveling in style, resting in heavenly Microsateen, wire-free bliss.

So much to tell you…so little time for posting.  And now, I’m off again, to break up a squabble between Kid #1 and Kid #2 and to placate Kid #3, who is terribly cranky and fussy today after staying up waaay too late last night and then refusing to sleep in this morning.  Hugs, y’all!

A list disguised as an update masquerading as a post

~ New look here at the LadyBug blog.  Whaddya think?  (You should see a pale yellow background, black font, and an old-fashioned typewriter header.)

~ I’ve also added a button that links to my eBay store.  At the moment, it’s mostly clothes the girls have outgrown, but I’ll be adding other stuff soon, including my fresh-out-of-storage collection of Coca-Cola® memorabilia.

~ I actually responded to comments on the last entry.  I’d like to get back into the habit of doing that, as I miss the back-and-forth exchanges there.

~ Big Boy will be starting Speech Therapy soon.  We took him for a speech evaluation on the 20th, and the Speech Therapist said he “definitely qualifies for some Speech Therapy.”  She said a toddler his age should have a vocabulary of around 50 words (he has less than 20) and should be using two-word phrases on a regular basis (he has only one two-word phrase: “my did!”).  So he definitely has a speech delay, just as we suspected.  (His comprehension is fantastic.  He can understand us and follow simple directions with no problems.  He just won’t TALK.)  Rather than being worried at this diagnosis, I’m actually relieved that he’ll get the intervention he needs to help his speech develop.  I’m ready to hear my Little Man talk.

~ I’m going off the anti-depressants.  It’s been almost a year since I started the meds.  I’ve been on them so long now, I don’t know where the meds end and I begin.  I’m ready to get back to “baseline,” to see what “me” feels like again.  I started a 10-day weaning dose Thursday before last, and I took my last pill Saturday.  So, of course, I’ve been lightheaded, dizzy and woozy since about 6:00 yesterday evening.  I don’t know exactly how long it takes for the meds to completely leave my system, and my body to re-stabilize; but I hope things get back to normal soon.  Feeling freaky and faint may be some folks’ idea of a good time, but I kind of like being able to stand up without feeling like I’ll pass out.

Blog rhymes with fog…

…but that’s not the point, not that there is one, so don’t go getting your hopes up, you’ll just be setting yourself up for disappointment.

. . .

So, yeah, I’m still here. Lots of craziness around here lately. So much craziness, it can only be contained in list format!

• We traded in both of our gas guzzlers - my good-for-family-travel-but-costs-an-arm-a-leg-and-a-major-organ-to-fill-up Suburban and Deputy Dad’s big-honkin’-macho-man-4-wheel-drive-15-miles-to-the-gallon pick-em-up truck and got a … ::whispering:: … minivan. A 2003 Pontiac Montana, to be exact. I suppose this officially makes me a Soccer Mom…although, since neither of the girls plays soccer, I’m not so much a Soccer Mom as a Basketball-Gymnastics-Softball-Chess Club Mom. I’ve been blasting Shakira over its little minivan speakers since we got it last week, in an effort to somehow convince myself that I’m not really, you know, driving a minivan. But even a constant loop of “Hips Don’t Lie” isn’t enough to refute the undeniable evidence that yes, I am, in fact, you know, driving a (gulp) minivan. Any “cool factor” I was clinging to is now dead, dead, dead, and gone the way of my 1980’s leg warmers and Trapper Keepers. Sigh. Perhaps our new ride needs some flames, à la Circus Kelli?
• I think I exceeded the Maximum Number of Links Per Entry Allowed by Law in that last item, and it took me so long to type it, now I don’t remember what else I…wait! Got it!
• The Drama Queen’s basketball season is over. They had their tournament last week. She was so excited, bless her little heart. “MOM! We got SIXTH PLACE in the CHAMPIONSHIPS!” So happy and thrilled. The first person to remind her there were only six teams will be condemned to an eternity of watching Congressional debates on CSPAN - without sound - while listening to the magical song stylings of Deputy Dad’s Butt Trumpet.
• Now that basketball is over, it is of course time for softball sign-ups. AND next week begins the last month of school, which means we’ll be barraged with awards assemblies, the first grade play, end-of-school parties, Vacation Bible School, and the like. Lord help me. Here we go again.
• Big Boy is KILLING ME these days, with the whiny and the tantrums and the clingy and the squawking and the OH MY GOD ENOUGH ALREADY. I was relieved when we got him off his pacifier a couple months ago, but I swear sometimes I’m thisclose to buying more, just so I can stick one in his mouth to SHUT. HIM. UP.
• Other than that, you know, he’s a perfect angel. Really.
• I seem to be pulling away from the blogosphere a bit…not posting much, not responding to comments, not visiting my blog neighbors as frequently, and not commenting as often as I used to, when I do visit. I think maybe it’s because I seem to be focusing more on Real Life. And if that’s it, then that’s good, right? Because, hey, I love my computer friends and this little blog world, but living outside of this virtual reality is good for the psyche, don’t you think?