Geek. Pirate. Mom

I’ve been working on a much longer blog post, one that I want to get just right.

And I’ve been writing. Lots of fiction, which tends to mean I don’t get as many ideas for this blog.

So instead, you get this, an update on my health.

My iron is up, though not in normal range yet. I’m still on liquid iron for the foreseeable future, but I’ve become much better at getting the straw further down in my mouth so that I don’t wind up tasting it. Liquid iron tastes like sucking on rusty nails with some dirt taste thrown in for good measure. I can’t explain why it tastes like that to me. It just does. (I’m sure that dirt would taste better, now that I think about it)

I’ve been cleared to run again, which is good. I’ve actually been itching to get out there again. And I’ve actually put on a little weight that’s fluff, not muscle. So I’m definitely looking forward to getting out there and resuming operation “get back in shape.”

Whitney of a year ago would never have said that.

There’s nothing quite as depressing as filling out 25 pages of medical history for a new doctor.

On Wednesday, I go see a hematologist. This is probably 2 years overdue, since it was around 2 years ago that I first had a test that showed I was low on iron. But here I am, with my lowest hemoglobin count since I was hospitalized in 2011.

To be honest, it’s a little frightening. I thought we’d had control of all of this- and frankly, I feel pretty darn good. In 2011, I was exhausted, constantly. While I haven’t run in awhile, I have been doing yoga, eating right… and I feel like I have energy to spare. (With the exception of last week, and I blame that on Daylight Savings)

I’ll be honest, I’m hoping that I can blame my period for this. I’m sure I usually have a dip in my iron level when it comes to that time of the month, and I happened to have a shorter than usual cycle this month- one that coincided with the blood draw that started all of this. Is it irrational to hope that that’s the problem?

No matter what, my iron levels are low, and my blood cells are smaller than they should be- it’s been explained that my body is trying to make blood as fast as it can, so it doesn’t wait until the cells are fully cooked. It’s like Lucy and Ethel at the Chocolate Factory. My body is going as fast as it can to sort of get the job done.

If you’re wondering why I write these posts about my health, it’s because I believe we shouldn’t be ashamed to talk about when our bodies go awry. This is a problem I have, and it’s frightening to me, yes. But I know that there are plenty of people out there who are struggling with health issues, that feel like they’re the only ones struggling under the weight of it. And there are people who stop seeing doctors because the ones they have are dicks.

I’m lucky. I have a really great gastroenterologist. He listens to me, he doesn’t try to apply me to any mold. He’s one of the rare doctors who believed me when I said I didn’t have an eating disorder, and he’s referred me to open minded professionals. Ones who would evaluate me with an open mind.

So if you think there’s something out of the ordinary- like you’re too tired, you get out of breath. Go to the doctor, and be honest. Make a list of all your symptoms, and if it’s something uncomfortable to talk about (I’ve had to share way too much about my bathroom habits), write it out. But take that leap and talk about it. It might be really important.

A little over a year ago, I was dealing with cramps that came from nowhere and racing to find bathrooms. While my blood thing isn’t sorted out- my life has become so much more normal. And we all deserve that.

This week it’s the Santa Shop at the Oldest Kidlet’s school- where the kids can bring in money and pick out gifts for their loved ones, and bring them home wrapped. When the Oldest Kidlet started begging me for money, I was reminded of what happened during last year’s Santa Shop.

It’s been one year since I was hospitalized for extremely low iron and kept in the hospital because I had mysterious fevers and pains that needed to be diagnosed!

And it’s been a year without many health scares. I’ve had a few flareups. But before I went to the hospital, it was once or twice a month. So it’s been a really great year. (Even if I did have to have a colonoscopy and drink that HORRIBLE prep liquid beforehand)

I’d been so focused on the other anniversary coming up that I hadn’t even thought about this one. (Fair warning, things might just be a little more down here than usual)

We had a lovely Thanksgiving here. The food was ready on time, everything was warm… and a lovely time was had by all!

Only I made the mistake of eating all the side dishes, two of which had dairy in them. Usually I (TMI territory here) wind up with cramps and other urgent type digestive issues. Back before I had the diagnosis, it would occasionally get worse, and I’d vomit for hours until my stomach was completely empty.

Around 1:30am, I woke up from a dream where I was in a world of LEGOs that kept vomiting little LEGO pieces. Every little minifig was puking. It was surreal. And woke with the feeling that I was going to throw up. And I did. Again and again. I went back to sleep, and woke up a half an hour later with the same feeling. And so it went up until about 4:30am. (Weirdly, the worst part wasn’t the actual vomiting, it was the panic when I’d wake back up with the feeling I was going to puke.) Somewhere in there, I was laying on the floor of the bathroom with a plastic container to puke into. Pretty pathetic, I know.

It was an excellent reminder that food reactions aren’t always the same, and that cheating on restrictions just isn’t worth it.

So please, while this was my own damn fault- this is proof positive that if a friend or family members says they don’t eat something… believe them. Cajoling them into trying just a little (and trust me, I didn’t eat a lot) could wind up putting your loved ones in a lot of pain. Just not worth it, no matter how good you think the food is.

I have a bunch of small Le Creuset baking dishes, and I think that for these shared holidays, I’ll just make my own smaller versions of side dishes and do what I do with LK- make them the night before, and reheat in the microwave. Because frankly- I love cooking, so a few extra dishes to ensure my own sanity won’t be much of a problem.

I’d been so good about posting daily, and then this week I dropped the ball. Only, it wasn’t quite my fault. Well, it sort of was. My body hates me.

For those new here: In January I was diagnosed with either Crohn’s or Ulcerative Colitis – it was too early to tell which one. So every so often I have flare-ups that send me to bed with ridiculously bad cramps. This was one of those days.

Wednesday started off well. I went for a run (more on that another time), go the kids to school and then in the afternoon- BAM! Enough pain that I was crying. Granted, I cry at a lot of things, but it takes some serious pain to produce tears.

On the plus side, I finally had the time to watch Midnight in Paris- the Woody Allen movie. It was a solid movie, and one that hit home a little- especially with my being someone who felt she was born too late. My family joked that had I been of age in the 30s, I would have had quite the singing career.

The movie itself has Owen Wilson as a writer who is trying to finish his first novel, already having a successful career in screenwriting. He’s in Paris with his fiancee and her family, who all look down on the notion of him being a novelist- since he’s already successful. His fiancee is played by Rachel McAdams, who isn’t so much the villainess. She simply doesn’t understand him, and wants a secure life with nice things. She just doesn’t want to support anything that weakens that.

But to me, it’s the most unlikeable character she’s played- because she’s the sort of person I’d hate to be in a relationship with. In fact, when the movie was finished I called TheBoy at work to thank him for not being Rachel McAdams.

Because he isn’t Inez at all. We’d been dating for years before we were married, and at the time I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. In college, I’d tried out majors in theater, anthropology with an emphasis in archaeology and computer science. None fit. While I was working full time, I started writing in my spare time (which at the time, I did have). And that felt right. When I finally told TheBoy that’s what I wanted to do, we were married with one child and another on the way. And he supported me fully. He’s always supported me in it, even when I feel like I’m going nowhere.

So thanks, TheBoy. Thanks for not being Rachel McAdams. (And for those who read this blog- thank YOU for not being Inez either. Your support means so much!)

I went to my gastroenterologist yesterday. Things are good. No flare ups. I’m still anemic, but so far as health issues go- I’d rather hear that my anemia is my only problem, as opposed to needing more tests. (this is the initial post about my health issues for those who are newish here)

Today, however, I’m here to share you the story of the woman (I believe she was at or about her mid 50′s) who had the appointment ahead of me. As a cautionary tale for anyone seeing a specialist for the first time.

Now, the walls in this office are painfully thin and this woman was loud. While I was busy trying to read Mansfield Park, I was having a hard time focusing on Mr. Crawford’s shenanigans (and Fanny’s polite outrage) because I could hear every detail of this woman’s health history.

I won’t go into the details, but this should give you a rough idea of how it went.

“Here’s the file from my general practitioner, and here are the test results from the tests that he ordered.” That’s how it started. Promising, right? Then she veered off on a long tangent about how she was so worried that her medically necessary tests were going to give her cancer, and that they hadn’t done the right kind of ultrasound- since her girlfriend had another kind. So he looked over the results and started to talk about what seemed to be the likeliest cuplrit and how they could test to rule it out. All while she suggested diseases. Because she’d done research on Web MD.

“Oh. I forgot. Just last week, I fainted at the store and the paramedics said it was vertigo.”

So he went back to the beginning to discuss her symptoms. That’s when she mentioned symptoms that worsened in the last month. So he asked if there had been any changes in her diet or lifestyle. “Oh no.”

So he started to re-evaluate where to start. “Oh. I just remembered.” That’s when she mentioned that for the last month she’d been on one of those fad diets where you drink shakes for two meals and only have one solid meal. “But that shouldn’t change anything.” (This is the point where I had a hard time keeping quiet, because it’s a gastroenterologist! Diets can change everything!)

At which point he told her to go back to regular meals, and that losing weight was less important than ruling out her diet as the cause of the symptoms.

THIRTY MINUTES of this. Don’t be this woman. If you’re seeing a specialist for the first time, give them the tests and then tell them ALL your health problems. All at once. Not one at a time.

And stay off Web MD.

Please tell me I’m not the only one with weird stories like this…

It’s basically been three months since my hospitalization. In that time, my blood has almost gotten back to the normal iron range (1.0 more for my hemoglobin and I am there). My cells are still tinier than they should be… but bigger than they were when I was hospitalized.

And I don’t have to go back for a few months!

Which is a relief, because his office is so disorganized. It took two attempts for this appointment. Two weeks ago, I showed up for my appointment and left after waiting for an hour without being seen. This time, I was taken back promptly, but it still took 40 minutes of sitting in the room before he talked to me.

The kicker was that the door was open slightly, so I could see into his personal office and see that yes, if he wasn’t with a patient he was doing the paperwork for their case… and also talking to a pharmaceutical rep.

As badly as his office is run, he’s a good doctor. He’s one of the few people to actually accept that I am the size I am, and that underweight for some people isn’t necessarily a major health problem for me. So for that, I’ll try to get as early an appointment I can and expect to wait.

In related news, as I was telling the Oldest Kidlet about my day today, he started in on how he had to write a personal narrative about his day. As he loves to tell anyone and everyone, a personal narrative is a true story about your day. He looked at me and asked me to tell my personal narrative.

He interrupted with this rhyming version.

“I went to the doctor. I had to wait. I was sad sad sad.
But then he said I was better, I am glad glad glad.”

I told him I might write about that. Then he looked at me. “You mean, you write personal narratives? That’s what you write? I’m going to tell my teacher on Monday that you write personal narratives for a living.”

I was so happy that he understood the concept of my blog, that it didn’t even occur to me that he’d tacked on “for a living.” Guess he has big dreams for me, too.

I know, it’s the new year and a time to reflect on what I want to get done this year. I set some goals last year, and while I’ve gotten better, I didn’t get them all accomplished.

In the spirit of getting things done, I figured I’d put this all out there.

1. Get organized. We occupy three rooms of this house (our room, the boys’ room and the common area upstairs) and share two other rooms (the living room and the upstairs bathroom) and try to fit everything that four people might need in there. When we moved in, I just sort of found places for things… but after nearly four years here, I need to get us organized and get rid of the stuff we don’t need. First priority is getting the boys’ stuff under control. I cut back on some of their toys, but when I wasn’t feeling well I just let things pile up.

2. Write daily. One of the best experiences for me was blogging daily during November. I let go of a lot of the anxiety that holds me back (more on that in a bit) and just wrote about what was on my mind. It was freeing in many ways, and I want to set a regular blogging schedule and a regular creative writing schedule.

3. Finish that novel. I’m finishing up a project that will never see the light of day (okay, I might post it on this blog), but after that, it’s full steam ahead on the novel. It needs to be written.

4. Get out more. I love the internet. It lets me keep in contact with friends within a nice safe little bubble. But I’m realizing that I can’t live in a bubble. It’s awfully lonely, so I’m trying to get out more and see my friends. I don’t talk much about this, but I have a lot of (undiagnosed, but still very real) anxiety issues. When faced with the unfamiliar, I tend to want to hide in my closet and never come out. I solve these problems by cooking and getting to hide in the kitchen when it comes to family gatherings, but it’s kept me from meeting up with people I worked at Disney with… or organizing a meetup with people I worked with in advertising. So I’m going to fight it this year.

5. Cook more. I got lazy in the latter part of the year. Cooking is one of my four interests (the others being writing, drawing and singing) that also works as therapy. Bad day? I can make a cheesecake and even if I don’t eat it, I feel better. So I resolve to cook more.

6. Take care of myself. I wound up in the hospital a month ago because I hadn’t noticed my health gradually declining last year. Here’s to paying attention, taking care of myself and kicking some ass. (By the way, I had a blood draw last week and my hemoglobin is up to a 10.9. Which, while a little below normal is much higher than the 6.2 I was admitted to the hospital with)

So there you have it, universe. This is what I plan on getting accomplished.

———-

Yesterday’s post about the women I ran into in the bathroom seemed to have struck a nerve with some guys who assert that nice girls don’t exist. Which is odd. I meet lovely single women all the time on the internet. Granted, I haven’t dated them, but none of them are gold diggers. (Okay, I’ve met a couple of those, but it was fairly obvious that’s what they were right away… even while putting on their best Twitter face) I suppose my follow up point is that if you aren’t meeting the kind of girls you want at your favorite bar or club, then you need to look elsewhere. A lot of nice girls these days just don’t want to pull out a push-up bra and a skimpy LBD and head to a bar or club.

Join online communities that revolve around your hobbies, go to meet-ups from those communities. Just going by the people I’ve met that have fallen in love by meeting at conventions or meetups, it seems like if you’re going to an event that seems more geared towards making new friends… you’re more likely to actually fall for someone. Without that pressure of trying to put on your best date-face, you usually wind up being more you and less worried about impressing people. Just a thought.

(By the way, the League of Extraordinary Ladies aka LxL hosted a singles mixer in LA last year and lots of meet ups in various cities. If you are of the geek persuasion, there you go.)