Planes Over My Hammy, Weird Smiles, and My Sad Mental State: Welcome to Thursday

This morning, we were rudely awakened by the sonic booming of fighter jets.

Okay, maybe we were already awake... But still, it was quite the shock.

You see, we live very near the Air Force Base... Well, technically, it's no longer an AFB because McChord AFB and Fort Lewis were consolidated into Joint Base Lewis-McChord a few years back. Aka JBLM... Or if you ask my husband, "Jiblam." Anyway, we're so close, we can hear the playing of Taps at the end of the day (we can hear the other stuff, too, I just have no idea what it is they play at 1700 and I am not awake for reveille... Dear lord, I had better not be awake for reveille). So, you see, we're used to the occasional flight formation training taking place up above (we also get a fair amount of Blackhawks, Chinooks, and C130s, but they are much, much quieter). However, this morning was different. This morning it did not stop. They were crazy loud, and had the dogs freaking the freak out, so we had to leave. E and I went for a walk, which was actually pretty fun, because we could really see them in action.

Later, come to find out, there is an air show this weekend.... HUGE surprise to me, since I was sure the air show was back in June. Oops. Well, I'm actually pretty excited to find out I didn't, in fact, miss it, and I think we are going to try to go, S's schedule permitting.

And while all of that is incredibly exciting, it certainly takes the back seat to what really set this day on it's ear: E chipped her top, left, front tooth.

I was mopping--never happens--and she was happily cleaning the top of our "coffee table" (it's an old steamer trunk) with baby wipes she swiped. The next thing I know, she's in the bathroom flushing the toilet (her new favorite activity), so I tell her to go sit down (in angry mom tone) and turn back around to finish the last corner of the kitchen.

Crash, bang, lots of screaming. I get to her, and she's flat on her face on the hardwood floor. I pick her up, assess the damage, but all I can see if the blood from where she bit her tongue. We have some water, calm down, cuddle with her favorite stuffed animal, and then I see it... or, rather, don't see it: the corner of her tooth... or lack thereof.

I, of course, immediately freak out and wonder what the hell I am supposed to do; do I take her to the ER? Do I call the pediatrician? We don't have a dentist here, yet (oops), so I am at a complete loss. Naturally, I do what any first-time mom does, and I call my husband and cry. A lot. He gets me to calm down enough that I call a local pediatric dentist and schedule an appointment for them to look at the tooth.

And then the other shoe drops... Either we messed up and didn't enroll her with dental coverage when we enrolled me (it's separate from regular Tricare), or they messed up and didn't add her. Either way, she has no dental coverage, and won't until August 1 when they fix the situation. Dollar signs begin to flash in my head, and I can just see our entire savings account down the tube.

Fortunately for us (and unfortunately for the tooth), there is nothing they can or really want to do about it, so we're only out the cost of a dental check-up. It turned out to be a relatively harmless $61--they had prepared us for $84 just for the "emergency evaluation of a single tooth," but someone somewhere took pity on us, and we eeked out just under the cost of a dinner out to Outback (super expensive... I totally make a better steak at home, too, and for so much less money!). I feel so bad, I have vowed never to mop the floor again. I know, it's a real sacrifice, but it's for the safety of my family.

My poor baby :-(.

This whole episode only served to remind me how little money we actually "have." I mean, we're making it, and we save pretty consistently, we are able to pay all of our bills, clothe ourselves and E, buy groceries, but there isn't a whole lot left over for extras... Now, this is completely a self-imposed limit on funds. When S got promoted, we started doubling the payments we made towards our car in an attempt to pay it off early (4 years early, I might add), but it's a good practice... You know, pretending we don't have money we actually do have. I also started saving twice as much of his paycheck, as well. Good stuff, but totally makes me feel like we have no money (which we don't... because it's gone. And the savings account counts).

Anyway, in freaking out about how I will pay the thousands of dollars of dental work E will need ($61!!!! $61!!!!!), I realize how hopeless the whole adoption thing is. Which really isn't the conclusion I want to come to, since I go check on the darling little girl's status about twenty times a day (also, I have to go back and change "my" to "the"... bad times, guys. Bad times). It's terrible and I know I shouldn't do it, but I do anyway: I type in Reece's Rainbow's URL, and hold myself back from entering her "name" into the search box. Instead, I go see if anyone else has found their forever family, read through the newly listed children, and then seek her out. And even then, I'm not sure if I feel relieved she hasn't found another family or incredibly saddened that she hasn't found another family.

I'm not sure what this says about me, but I have a feeling whatever it is isn't good...

This Person Is a Slacker --->

Obviously, I have been slacking with the writing of the blog. I would use the excuse that it's been a crazy week, but really, it hasn't. E and I flew back to Washington late Monday night, and have really just been hanging around and running errands the last couple days. We've already been to Costco, the PX (post exchange), Costco, and the Commissary twice. We're like Super Shoppers.

When I have had a chance to sit down at my computer, I have used the opportunity to re-write and edit one of my older novels. I actually wrote it about four years ago, finished it, workshopped it some with one of my novel writing courses, and then walked away. It was probably a much needed break, as I was sick of it and really didn't like it, anymore. I liked a great deal of the story, but it needs a lot of work, and I wasn't really up to it until now. I really should be working on other things right now, but I felt the urge to work on it, so what better time than now?

Also, I finally bought myself Scrivener. It's writers' software that I absolutely adore. I highly recommend it for anyone and for any project. You can see the software and activate a free trial here. It makes the writing experience fun.

And tomorrow, I have an appointment with the head of endocrinology here and a clinical psychologist. Because, apparently, wanting adequate and consistant treatment must mean I am crazy. I am going, anyway, because I think there has been a huge breakdown in communication between the doctors and me, the patient. I am hoping that I will be able to convey that my current prescription has helped, I just think there is room for some adjustment. So... wish me luck?

And Another One Bites the Dust

This is going to be one of those uncharacteristically whiny posts. My feelings will not be hurt if you bail now.





Still here? Okay. Well, last week, I went and met with the new endocrinologist. I can't really say I am any more impressed with this one than I was with the last one. Which goes to say: Not impressed at all.

I went in, prepared with all of my lab work from the last year and a half. The doctor looked it over, asked me about my symptoms (fatigue, extremely cold extremities, hair loss, heart palpitations, etc. Apparently, I have been tired for the past 7 years because I currently have a toddler... that made me want to kick him in the groin, by the way) and came up with this: do lab work, look at the results, have me switch medications (again), up the dosage, and try to get my TSH to just around 1.

Sounded like a plan, minus the change of medication. I told him I really feel better on my current thyroid medication (Armour dessicated thyroid) and would prefer to stay on it.

Apparently I was wrong on all counts.

So, after calling the office every day for a week, I finally got someone to tell me what was up (they were supposed to call me the morning after the appointment. Ha). The nurse called and said "your lab results show that everything is in the normal range and the doctor said you could just continue on your current medication."

I told her I was confused--I am currently taking 1 grain of Armour and my TSH is right over 2... How was it supposed to be pulled down to a 1 if we leave the medication where it currently is??? She asked me to hold on and when she came back, said something like "well, it's a different medication, so it's measured differently." While this is true, my primary care physician has shown my the conversion chart between the two medications, and I know that my current dosage is significantly lower than the 125 mcg of Synthroid he wanted me to switch to. I told her all of this to which she replied "well, you have a good day." Click.

I then climbed into the shower and sobbed while I washed my hair.

I guess I just don't understand. I come in and say "I don't feel well. Here is all of my lab work--the last blood draw was 2 months ago." The doctor says "Huh. You were tested for A, B, C, D, and E. I think I will test you for A, B, C, D, and E, too." And then, when the results for A, B, C, D, and E come back EXACTLY THE SAME, the doctor says "See? Everything is normal. You're fine. Get another blood draw in a year." Just like the last one did. ARGH!

NO, ASSHOLE! I AM NOT FINE! I WOULD NOT HAVE COME IF I FELT OKAY!!!!

Why will no one say "Oh, the last endocrinologist has concluded the problem is not your thyroid anymore based on tests A, B, C, D, and E. These symptoms are also a sign of X, Y, and/or Z. Let's do some tests to rule those out!"...?!?!?!?!

Or at least adjust my medication until I feel better. I know the Armour is doing something... I do feel better than I did, but I still don't feel good. It's like on a scale of 1 to 10 (10 being great, 1 being horrible) I have gone from a 2 to a 5.5. I just don't think I am all the way there, yet. I've been able to lose about 25 lbs (though, it's been extremely difficult and it seems to be stuck... I feel so close, yet so far away.... I'll probably be fat forever) since switching exclusively to Armour and I don't feel quite so depressed all the time. Otherwise, everything else is pretty much the same. Or only marginally better. But no one cares. Because if they did, they would have said "okay, you feel better on Armour, it's working, so far, albeit not perfectly. Let's increase your Armour and see if that helps" instead of "you can either take the Synthroid at a higher dose or you can go away."

It really makes me believe someone is getting kickbacks from the makers of Synthroid.

Not cool.

All right, I am going to go breaks things, now. And it really has me losing faith in the medical profession. Or at least the medical professionals in the greater JBLM area.

Guess this just adds to my growing list of reasons why I HATE Washington.

Buy a Prius, Drive Like a Granny

When S commissioned in 2010, I was driving the 2005 Corolla S my parents bought me in college (I lived on campus my first year, and was not a fan. I think I came home every weekend but one my first semester, and after Spring Break of my second, I essentially moved home entirely. My parents told me that if they didn't have to pay for room and board, they would get me a car, pay for my gas and the insurance for my remaining 3 years--S and I picked up the tab after I graduated and landed my position at the university) and he was driving my dad's 1989 Ford Ranger pick-up... It was sexy. Before he deployed to Iraq, we made the brilliantly uneducated--and stupid--decision to buy a 1967 Ford Falcon... It was great the first 10 minutes he owned it, but was just a pain in the rear end the remaining 5 years. We ended up donating it--I think?--and cutting our losses. We shared the Corolla for awhile, but my parents were gracious enough to offer up the truck for us to use until we got something new.

Enter the Prius.

We did some homework and decided the hybrid was the way we wanted to go. We keep our cars long enough that getting a hybrid was a money-saver, and S was excited about "voting with his money." So, after his commissioning, we scrounged up a hefty down payment, went to the dealership, got suckered into opting for way more gadgets than we had originally planned for, and left with a car.

Because it's our "family" car, I drive it the most. When we had E in the infant car seat, I drove the Corolla a lot because we could easily move the seat from one base to the other. Unfortunately, spending $300 on a second convertible car seat just didn't fit into the budget, so now I drive the Prius almost exclusively, and when we go somewhere as a family, that's the car we take.

Anyway, back to my point.

While those of you in the rest of the country are experiencing gas price lows, those of us on the Pacific coast are having extreme highs. We buy our gas at Costco and it was $4.15/gallon yesterday.... And that's at least $.10 cheaper than everywhere else, including on-post. Because of this, I have been much more mindful of the mpg gauge on the Prius, and thus, my driving style has drastically changed.

Before I started watching the gauge, I was getting about 44 mpg on average. Right now, it's sitting at 54 mpg, all because I started driving differently.... Yes, I now drive like a granny. The 35 mph zone is my new best friend--I've been avoiding the interstate and taking back roads because I get such better gas milage. I can get up to speed without breaking the "eco" line, and coast in a range that gets me anywhere from 75-100 mpg. This probably makes me unpopular with other drivers, because I tend to go the speed limit, if not under it... Not that I didn't become infinitely slower when I started carting around a kiddo.

This may actually be the first car I have driven that encourages me to drive at a pace that can only be described as the opposite of reckless (lol). The Corolla is like driving a go cart, so it's easy to get out of hand (my one and only speeding ticket can attest to that). My goal is to make it to a tank that averages 65 mpg... Cause how awesome would that be?

[End incredibly boring post]

In other news:

• I think E has hit the Terrible Twos. If she isn't blatantly disobeying me, she is throwing a temper tantrum (or so it seems). She's really not that bad, but it's such a drastic change in such a short amount of time (like... a week???) that it's notable.
• Her new favorite thing to do while riding in the car is lick the bottom of her feet... Um. Eww?
• She has probably eaten her weight in berries the last couple weeks--I'm not complaining. I would much prefer her be on a fruit kick than a processed food kick.
• I have lost a few pounds since my omg-my-body-hates-me post a few weeks back. Bad news? Now I can't get any more to fall off. Argh!
• I met with a new endocrinologist--the jury is still out.
• I made cookie cake and it was a rousing success.
• I still hate Washington.

And, while you're barbecuing this weekend--please remember to remember those who served and sacrificed it all.

Doctor Anxiety

I have an ENT appointment in 36 hours. I am horrendously worried that they will decide I have some sort of cancer of the throat. Even though I have no symptoms.

I think I have given myself acid reflux over this whole thing. Or maybe it's an ulcer. Or cancer.

Ughhhhhh.

I wish I didn't have to go alone. I really, really, really want someone there with me.

This is Where I Prove I Am a Liar

I know I said I was going to try to keep this upbeat, but you'll have to forgive me for a slip every once in awhile. I'm having a little freak-out session and have the urge to try to calm down via writing.

The last few months, I have been experiencing this lump-in-throat sensation. It comes and goes, but lately it seems to be around more often than before. I've mentioned it to my primary care doctor, as well as the endocrinologist in the past, but only this week has either decided to investigate (to be fair, the PCM referred me to the endocrinologist at first. When I showed up in his office still complaining about the lump feeling and the endocrinologist, he gave me s referral to an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist and a new endocrinologist). This afternoon, the ENT office called to schedule an appointment for me, which prompted me to go on a massive Google search...

... Which has me terrified that I have esophageal cancer. Which is essentially a death sentence.

Fortunately, I don't have any of the symptoms (except for weight loss, but I have been desperately trying to lose weight... But, then, why all of a sudden would it start working when it didn't before? See why this is tricky?). Unfortunately, early stages don't really show any symptoms. So, I could have cancer.

And, as you would guess, resulted in lots of crying, text messages to my husband asking him when he could come home, and forcing the toddler to sit on my lap while I thought about the possibility of missing her grow up.

I need a bottle of wine.