I have an apology to make…

…I’ve been sitting on my ass, goofing off on the internet, and complaining when the bloggers I love to read don’t update often enough to suit me. I’d apologize for not updating my own site often enough for my legions of readers – except that I am well aware that I have maybe two people who bother to check this site (mostly because they were stupid enough to sign up for the RSS feed…bwaahaha ha ha ha!).

So who am I apologizing to?  Myself.  I’ve tried to be articulate and funny and charming and even interesting… and I’ve failed. Now I have to decide if I should shut this site down as a failure, or if I should stop trying to be articulate, funny, and charming and just do whatever the hell I want to do because I enjoy sharing stupid shit with others.

…yeah, I think I’ll go with the stupid shit.

Summer chores have begun a little early this year

Had a bit of a surprise at the doctor’s office during my post-op checkup.  They didn’t remove the cyst.  It turned out there were three cysts and worse issues going on when he went in, so the ovary came out.  Steve and the doctor missed each other after the surgery, so I didn’t find out until the checkup.  Happily, everything was benign.  I was given the go ahead for lifting and proceeded to overdo working on the yard and pulling something.  Stupid.

A friend had some flagstone left over from a project and offered it to me.  So last week I drove her SUV home, unloaded the rock (with Steve’s assistance, of course), drove her SUV back to work, and then spent the rest of the evening in pain from pulling something in the process…again.

There was so much to do to catch up on that I repeated the overdoing and pulling things for two weeks.  In Texas heat (translation: mid to high 90’s).  You’d think I learn from experience, but that lesson wasn’t sticking for some reason.

I’m fine now.  Really.  I’ve started lifting weights again, I’m preparing to start a new routine on the treadmill, and my yard is beginning to look halfway decent (other than all the dead grass from our lovely Texas drought).

Today my parents came over to finish helping me get my garage under control.  While Dad was putting up the slatboard, Mom and I moved the remaining flagstone to the back yard and the old cement pavers to the front yard. I packed up the Silver Pig with a garage full of recycling and sent Steve off to Austin Ecology Action (I thought it would take two trips, but that little Honda Fit can really pack it in). One more day of cleaning and organizing, and it’s going to be pretty awesome in there.  That means I can start moving things from the soon-to-be-library to the garage in preparation for putting in the hardwood floor. Woo hoo!  (I’m going to admit right here that I have absolutely no idea how to put in a floor, or even how to level and seal the concrete before putting in the floor.)

Tonight the herbs are going in and maybe I’ll do a little more work on the garage. Right now I’m chilling at a Starbucks (seriously, it’s freezing in here) because it’s too distracting for me to write in my trainwreck of a house (after watering every evening–on nights I actually get home before 10 pm–I’m too tired to work on the house.  So it’s a mess).

Don’t worry, I hope to have the house done before our vacation, and have most of the front yard under control. This is while juggling another concert, a new Ravenloft campaign, and dying and cutting my hair (someone else is doing the cutting because I suck at it. I mean I REALLY SUCK at  it).

Tomorrow is a coconut cake. Maybe I’ll have photos up late that night, or it’ll be Wednesday evening before RPGing.  Fingers crossed.

Scraping out an Ovarian Cyst

In just a few more days, I’ll have an opportunity to experience the joys of a laparoscopic ovarian cystectomy. And let me tell you, after six months of pain, I was soooooooo looking forward to it.  Or at least I was until I watched a video on what the procedure actually looks like.
I really didn’t put much thought into the actual process involved until that stupid video.  Now I realize that they’ll be ripping the ovary open and then SCRAPING and BURNING that cyst out. How lovely (if you’re a guy, imagine that those round things in the video are testicles and then try not to cringe).


Sometimes I regret not having my ovaries yanked during my hysterectomy a few years ago.  But that’s generally when the pain has me struggling not to reach through my monitor at work and strangle the idiot on the other side of the support chat. When I’m thinking rationally, I’d rather not have to balance all my hormones manually, although my sister is insisting that I’m already hormonally challenged.
My doctor says that if I need to, I can go back to work after a few days since I sit at a desk all day, but my manager isn’t quite so sure that letting me provide support solutions while cranked is such a good idea.  I’d like to take a short medical leave instead of just two days of sick time and my regular two days off; however, my company now only covers 50% of pay during medical leave and I really need that full paycheck to cover my newly increased medical deductible (bye-bye new iPad that I finally finished saving up for).
All in all, I’m glad I live in the time where trying to figure out how to pay for the procedure is all that I have to worry about.
I’ve been following The Mother’s weekly installment on “The Nefarious History of Motherhood“, which covers the role of motherhood and the practice of obstetrics and gynecology throughout history (she also provides an incredibly detailed bibliography for those who wish to verify or follow up on her research – some of it is amusing, while much of it is absolutely terrifying).  My ovarian cyst? Having it taken care of in the early 1800’s was dangerous, and that was just draining the cyst–not removing it.

Up until that time, ovarian cysts were generally tapped with a sharp trochar, draining off as much fluid as possible and as necessary for the sufferer to lead a fairly normal life. Unfortunately, there were a large number of complications and deaths just from tapping; plus, in the absence of removal of the cyst-causing tumor, the fluid kept reaccumulating. The record was held by a Dr. Heidrich, who tapped one woman 299 times for a total of 9,867 pounds of fluid. Ouch.”

Yeah, ouch is right. And it gets worse.
During the mid-1800’s, doctors noticed that ovaries influenced the uterus somehow, and by 1872, they started experimenting with their removal to fix gynecological AND non-gynecological problems (from ovarian cysts and epilepsy to hysteria, mania and other emotional problems).
Out of curiosity, I actually started doing some of my own research on all this, but stopped after reading a copy of the Boston Medical and Surgical Journal (February 12, 1885) when it started talking about treating a woman with ovarian cysts by applying a leech to the cervix a few days before each menstrual cycle.
I think I’m finally ready to stop reading up on this and just let my doctor do his thing.  In fact, I’m going to get up, right now, and make a huge batch of snickerdoodles so that I have something sweet to snack on while I’m home recovering.  That and lots of bran muffins to prepare for one of the side effects of surgery.
Mmmmmmm…. snickerdoodles and bran muffins filled with chocolate covered raisins….

USB Flash Drive Washing Woes

A few days ago, while moving wet clothes from the washing machine to the dryer last night – I heard a thunk.  And I know I’m not the only one whose heart drops when things thunk in a washing machine.  Instead of a relatively salvageable stick of Burt’s Bees Replenishing Lip Balm (yes, I’ve washed my lip balm before), I found my USB flash drive.  Not the little green one that I carry between work and home and doesn’t have anything on it I care about – but my big black drive (big in terms of storage, not size).


What’s driving me nuts is figuring out how it got there. I don’t keep my drives in my pockets, and I always check all the pockets before my clothes are dumped in the washing machine (the lip balm was an exception). And I remember checking the pockets this time too.

The drive is currently sitting in a tupperware container, buried in uncooked rice per some online suggestions.

I’ll test it out in a few day and hope for the best. Wish me luck.

When I’m sick and whiny, Netflix is my only friend

I think I picked up my cold last weekend during our trip to a rampaging germ factory to see Yo Gabba Gabba Live with two of our little friends.   The show was fun, but it wasn’t worth the snogged head and drippy nose all week.

Luckily we have Netflix.  After the first day spent doing nothing but sleeping, I toddled out to the living room and started flipping through our online movie queue–that’s where “Zombie Strippers” and “Raptor Island” came from.  The first was because I thought it would be funny (it’s painful), and the latter because I had heard it was so bad that it was good (it was painful AND boring).  So I gave up and finished off season one of “Psych”.

By the next day, “Psych” had me tossing a street pizza in my own living room (am I the only person who thinks of a street pizza when I see the ad for Taco Cabana’s Street Tacos?  Really?).  Not because the episode wasn’t good, but the first show of season two had me laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe.  Combine not breathing with a stuffed up nose and strong gag reflex and I was puking along with the duet at the end.  How I truly love Tim Curry.

By Friday I had run out of sick time and dragged my somewhat incoherent ass to work so I could infect all the people who will be working overtime to answer questions about our company’s consumer products after Christmas. I was cranky and pissy for most of the shift until I stopped by Head Nurse’s blog to catch up on the past week.

Her latest post was about how she felt about talking to her own patients about her recent and unexpected experience with oral cancer:

Cancer is like a swimming pool. When you get the diagnosis, you’re shoved suddenly up the ladder onto the high-dive. You’re essentially alone, staring down into a pool full of people. (This is not to diminish the efforts of doctors and surgeons and nurses; it’s just…well, you’re on your own. It’s you, and this thing that’s trying to kill you, and that’s really it at three a.m.) Some people have really nice floaties, and some people tread water, and you can see that some people are exhausted.

And you have no chance but to jump.

There’s more, but my nose is runny enough as it is.  Reading her stuff reminds me of what a whiney, unappreciative person I become when I’m sick… and sometimes when I’m not sick.

Last night about 9 pm, I started feeling better.  In fact, I suddendly felt well enough to clean up the living room a little while watching more “Psych”.  Tonight I feel well enough to take on a week’s worth of kitchen neglect plus starting all the Christmas cookie baking that I’m behind on, but I’m not quite well enough to hit the hockey game.