The Power of Cheesecake

I’ve been sick on and off for the past month. The cake show went by as I had to back out of competing due to illness. I was well enough to attend, but fell ill again before I could post more than a tiny sample of the photos of the event. So much crap has happened over the past 30 days…

…but none of that matters now.

For I had cheesecake for breakfast, and all is good again in my world.

Spent most of the last 3 to 4 weeks on painkillers

…which makes it rather difficult to blog. I have no idea why I thought I’d have plenty of time to catch up on all of of this while I was off of work. Most likely because I’m not used to taking anything stronger than ibuprofen and I underestimated my mental state or even my conscious state while on something stronger (I DID learn, however, that there are some painkillers I cannot take, and ended up back in the hospital after a week of them).

What kind of surgery did I have? The kind that is very humiliating to talk about. I finally had to bite the bullet and get it done because 1) it was painful and was only getting worse, 2) I was having to use up my vacation time to cover on days where I could suffer through the first attack and then schedule the next few days off, and 3) the times I couldn’t schedule off in advance-I was taking hits to my attendance, which can get you fired rather quickly when working for my company.

There were a lot of things I had read in preparation for this, and let me tell you that the amount of pain I was warned about was sooooooo true. Some of the things that I found online that had suggestions on how to cope with recovery were useful, some were not useful, and one or two made things worse. I’d love to do a write up on it, but then I’d have to actually admit to what I had done…. and it’s kinda embarrassing to so.  Maybe I’ll get over the embarrassment one day, or maybe I’ll post it somewhere else.

But I’m finally off the painkillers (except for those occasional evenings when things get worse), and can coherently write again. Seriously, my Facebook entries while on the second set of painkillers had references to giant robot penises and other odd things (the first set of painkillers only kept me unconscious and never actually managed the pain, which is why I ended up back in the hospital with a different set of drugs).

So I’m back. And too late for all the Halloween stuff I put together too. I guess I’ll just save them for next year since I have them pretty much ready to go other than some final editing. But I have some cool Thanksgiving stuff! And Thanksgiving’s this week! …which means I’ll have to wait until next year for those as well… this sucks.

It’s now time to go and get ready for the Doctor’s visit that will determine when I’m allowed to go back to work, so I guess I’ll leave you with a photo of Nemo keeping my feet warm while I was sick:

This was probably the best thing that came out of this past month. Other than the giant robot penis comment on Facebook.


…which sounds much better than “too tired and depressed to write a cohesive or even coherent post”.

My writing has stalled. I put off a lot of what I wanted to say because I have a huge backlog of cake competition photos to sort through, organize, and post. I wanted to wait until I was completely caught up on that before talking about anything else, but then life, hockey, cat-sitting, and my soul-sucking job keep getting in the way.

And if it wasn’t one of those things, there’s cleaning up cat pee or foaming prozac-flavored cat drool. Seriously, if you let the prozac dissolve in your cat’s mouth instead of getting it straight down their throats–they will sit there, foaming at the mouth, while staring at you until you start to feel guilty about drugging them because you’re tired of all the territorial pissing in the hallway. Nemo has the whole “I’m suffering because of youuuuuuuuuuuu……” look down while the ONE time we dosed-up Molly–she went bat-shit insane and tried to rip us both apart.

So cake show photos will have to wait until whenever I get around to them.

Hockey won’t be in the way much longer as the Texas Stars decided to SUCK this year and didn’t make the playoffs. In fact, we came in dead last in our division. I’m not saying that I no longer love my players. In fact, we just renewed our season tickets for the next season. What I AM saying is that while I don’t know if it’s the players, the coach, or a combination of the two– they’d better suck a little less next year.

That’s all I’m asking for… just a little less suckage.

Work is mind-numbing. I’d go on about that, but I’m done thinking about it for the day.

What really triggered this rambling mess was hearing from one of my classmates from culinary school today. He’s moved back to Austin and is planning on going back to get his Patisserie and Baking certification. I’m so freaking jealous. We both took the culinary side of things because neither of us quite realized what we really wanted to do when we started (I had an feeling that baking was the way I wanted to go, but the baking-only program didn’t include the courses needed for the associates degree or the cost control classes that can make or break a successful business).

Since graduation, we’ve both done everything we could to figure out things on our own. The difference between the two of us is that he’s still cooking and baking for a living, and I’m dilly-dallying. To be blunt about it – I feel like a complete failure.

I know that it’s stupid to feel that way, but right now I can’t think about anything else.

…and I just noticed that the cat I’ve been cuddling with while typing this has a large wet dingle-berry hanging off his scraggily drugged-up ass. This is gonna be fun.

Holiday Hell Time has Begun

I know I’ve been neglecting my poor, sweet blog lately. But I’m not sure it’s going to get any better anytime soon. The good news is that it has nothing to do with my health. The past two months have been spent in a back-fill position at work. That means I’m doing work on a higher level, but without the pay… and it’s a hell of a lot more work. I’m willing to do this because not only do I want the training, but they’re using this as a way to see who’s qualified to be promoted (already had my interview, cross your fingers for me). And on top of learning all this fun new stuff, they’ve added two new processes to this level that the people training us also had to learn at the same time as us back-fill folks.

Now add the holidays to this equation. I’ve hated December ever since taking this job. Here, December always means rushing around trying to do normal Christmas and holiday chores AND work lots and lots of mandatory overtime. Last year we were even told we had to work the day after Christmas… even if it was our normal day off for the week (it was over my “weekend” and I was very pissed off about having to work that day). On the plus side, I generally make enough in overtime to double my paycheck for the last two weeks of December and the first two weeks of January.

This year the overtime started in October, and I’m trying to work an extra eight hours a week while still making it to all the hockey games, trying to fix up the house, and baking all the birthday cakes for friends (why does everyone have birthday in November? Seriously people–stop it!).

But I miss writing. I also miss posting hockey photos after every game. Hell, I miss taking photos at the hockey games. And I have several cakes that I haven’t put up here or on Flickr yet (including a Doctor Who cake). I think my new best buddy for the next few months will be several cartons of the 5 hour energy drinks.

Caffeinated blogging. The best kind.

I have today off and I know I should be scrubbing the bathroom right now instead of blogging. But I have stories and photos from our Hockey and Heels night with the Texas Stars.


Bathroom scrubbing wins this time.

Maybe later I’ll have time for the story about Brad Lukowich and the mustaches, or the one about kitty Prozac.

Or maybe I’ll end up passed out exhausted on the couch without cracking open my computer again.

I’ve fired my doctor

It’s not like I’ve ever been able to schedule an appointment with my primary care physician for the past few years anyway. And the one appointment I had to take a vacation day to schedule was canceled when his nurse called me with the results of the ultrasound (that was recommended by a different doctor when I once again couldn’t schedule my own doctor last October).

“It’s just an ovarian cyst, it will go away. There’s no need for you to come in.”

When it returned early this year, I suffered through it for a while because I was still pissed off at my doctor. Thankfully I remembered my OB/GYN, who had helped me with my hysterectomy. He said pretty much the same thing, but wanted to watch it. That was a good thing because it ended up having to come out once he found endometriosis. We thought that was it, but by early June, the pain was back and it was getting worse (and it ruined what was supposed to be a relaxing and romantic vacation in Vegas).

My OB/GYN, being an OB/GYN and not a GP, said that wanted me to have a CT scan done, but as my other ovary looked fine and there wasn’t any sign of endometriosis on the neighboring organs, he’d probably have to send me to see a different specialist (I then got to see photos of my ovaries-the one I kept and the one that was pulled. That was pretty cool).

Three weeks later, I finally got the results of the CT scan: gall bladder stones, a kidney stone (1 cm), two hernias, and diverticulosis. He didn’t catch any of this earlier because my symptoms don’t really match any of these things. DH complains that there’s not going to be much of me left if they keep pulling things out, but I do understand that medicine isn’t an exact science… you treat what you can find and then try to find something else if that doesn’t fix the problem. Although right now I really wish someone would invent a tricorder, because this process blows.

I’ve since seen a surgeon for the gall bladder and a urologist for the kidney stone (the hernias were practically non-existent and the diverticulosis looked fine).

The surgeon, whose name I’m afraid to pronounce because I keep mangling it, says the symptoms don’t quite match gall bladder symptoms so he doesn’t want to remove anything if there’s no need (I REALLY like this doctor). He’s waiting to see how I feel after having the kidney stone removed.

The urologist wants the stone gone, but he’s not sure that’s going to completely resolve my pain either, since it doesn’t quite match kidney stone symptoms. I have an appointment for an extracorporeal shock wave lithotripsy (ESWL) treatment in a few weeks to break up the stone so I can pass it. One of my co-workers has been telling me horror stories about his experience, although most of them have more to do with the removal of the stent, which shouldn’t be as traumatic for me as I don’t have a male appendage to worry about.

They did give me some narcotics to to help me get through the kidney stone attacks until the ESWL, but the two times I’ve taken them, the attacks were much more intense. I now actually know what it feels like to hurt so badly that it makes me want to vomit. It may only be a coincidence, but I’m not quite sure I want to try them a third time.

So most days I try to muddle through as there’s always something that needs to be done. Sometimes the pain makes me want to cry, other times I try not to start raging at work when someone does something mildly stupid (more often other agents rather than customers). Today has been a rather productive day off of work for me–very little pain and more energy than I have most days. I not only managed to clean up part of the house, but I also fed my craving for snickerdoodles by making a double batch of the little buggers. Maybe I’ll even be nice and take some to work for all the people who have been putting up with me and my whining for the past 10 months.

And my primary care physician? Well I’m looking for a new one. Any recommendations?