I'm SERIOUSLY considering moving to Canada. No, really, SERIOUSLY.
I cannot believe this country RE-ELECTED this guy.
I cannot believe this country RE-ELECTED this guy.
Due to recent events, I have been pretty behind on laundry.
The hamper in the bathroom was overflowing, so we started to pile our dirty clothes on the floor.
A few mornings ago the husband woke up, and like he does every morning, he went to scoop the kitty litter.
You will never guess what he found in the litter box.
At first he thought one of the cats had taken a huge shit, but when he scooped out the black object he realized it was A PAIR OF MY UNDERWEAR.
Yep. That's right. My underwear were in the litter box. One of the cats had BURIED my underwear.
Now, I know everyone thinks their animals are the craziest, but seriously-
CATS WHO BURY UNDERWEAR?
Between the three of them, they also, chew on plastic bags, attack their own tails, play with the electrical socket, hump the dog's toys, and sleep right on top of the boiling hot heater (I keep waiting for one of them to burst into flames).
Every night when my husband gets home from work I ask him how his day was.
Now, I know I'm not the only person in the world married to a doctor, but he tells me some pretty crazy stories-REALLY CRAZY- and it's so frustrating that I can't write about them here.
I can however tell you about Kidney transplants because those happen every day and this doesn't pertain to a particular patient.
Keep in mind when you're reading this that I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP.
So, you need a kidney transplant because one of your kidneys is sick and not working properly, if at all.
You wait for a kidney. They find a match, thanks to some generous organ donor.
They wheel you into surgery to give you your new kidney.
So, I bet you're thinking the surgery goes like this:
Cut open patient.
Remove diseased kidney.
Insert new kidney.
Sew up patient.
But, no. That's not how they do it.
Here's how an actual kidney transplant goes:
Cut open patient.
JAM NEW KIDNEY INTO BODY CAVITY WITHOUT REMOVING THE OLD ONE.
Sew up patient.
That's right. They don't take out the old, diseased, shriveled up kidney.
They just shove the new one in there.
I don't know about you, but I was not aware that there was so much extra room in the body cavity that you could just shove extra organs in there.
Doesn't that sound like something they would have done, oh I don't know, in the 1700's before they figured out basic human anatomy?
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is just the tip of the iceberg.
*Update- The husband just read this and wanted me to add that they put the new Kidney IN YOUR PELVIS.
Now, excuse me while I go read one of the 20 anatomy books we have because I'm pretty sure KIDNEYS ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE PELVIS.
I wish I could afford to get a colonic.
I guess I could settle for an at-home enema.
For those of you who are interested, one of my photographs will be in the Style secton of The New York Times tomorrow.
It will be in an article about people who take self portraits.
Unfortunately, because the picture is part of a collage, I will not be given credit.
See if you can spot me.
* Update- Actually, it's two pictures.
Here's the link.
I thought I was doing better, but last night, right before I went to bed I got teary.
Maybe it was because I had been packing up all of my pregnancy related items. I felt like it would give me closure and at the very least I wouldn't have to walk around my apartment and be constantly reminded by numerous pregnancy books, or the belly cream on my night stand.
I had HORRIBLE dreams. One was so bad, I woke up crying.
I thought about writing about it, but it was just too horrible.
What I've realized is this- I'm going to have good moments and bad moments. Good days and bad days. I might be laughing one minute, and crying the next.
Regardless of the phycological trauma, I need to realize that my hormones are fluctuating drastically.
So, I just have to let myself go through the process.
On a seperate note....
I just want to thank you all for your kind words and support.
I feel embraced by all of the love and good vibes you have sent my way.
I really don't think you understand how much you all have helped me.
I wonder what this would have been like if not for all of my internet friends giving me constant support and encouragement.
I knew something was wrong.
Call it woman's intuition. Call it mother's intuition. Call it whatever you want.
Nothing was wrong physically. I just had a feeling.
The minute the sonogram image came on the screen I said, "Where's the heart beat?"
I stopped looking at the screen.
The doctor had a strange look on her face.
She said "I'm 99% sure there's no heart beat, but I want to send you upstairs for a more comprehensive ultrasound to confirm it"
The doctor left the room and my husband and I collapsed into a pile of tears.
We did the best we could to pull ourselves together and we walked liked zombies out of the doctor's office and through the waiting room filled with pregnant women in various sizes.
I don't remember the walking through the hospital or riding upstairs in the elevator, but I do remember arriving in the ultrasound waiting area surrounded by more happy pregnant women.
I wasn't mad at them for being pregnant, but I wondered if they realized how lucky they were.
My husband and I sat in that waiting room for over an hour with intermittent tars streaming down our faces.
Finally someone called us.
She performed a very thorough ultrasound. I starred at the ceiling. She excused herself and came back into the room with another woman. The other woman started ultrasounding me.
They kept asking me to hold my breath.
Then they started having a conversation in front of us.
"Do you see that there?"
I'm getting 107"
"Wait was that 120?"
"That can't be right"
My husband asked what was going on
"We're picking up a heart beat"
I turned to my husband and said "107 is too low, don't get your hopes up"
The women finished with me and told us that the doctor (not my OB, but the head radiologist) was at lunch and could we please go back to the waiting room. And wait.
We waited 45 minutes and finally another woman came and got us.
She brought us into another ultrasound room and put a gown on the table.
"Yes. Boy, you guys must be having a rough day"
The woman performed a FOURTH ultrasound. Unlike the two women before her she didn't say anything.
She left the room and came back with the doctor who had been at lunch.
He said, "What I'm seeing here is not a viable pregnancy."
We told him that the other women had seen a heart beat of 107.
"I'm getting about 50, and it's mostly just leftover electrical activity.
We went back down to my OB's office. She told us that the baby was measuring the right size so something must have gone wrong in the last 24 hours. She said if we had come in for an ultrasound a day or two before she would have told us everything is fine and that we had a less than 2% chance of losing the baby.
Basically, we were watching the baby die.
She told me she would remove the baby on Monday.
For those of you who have never been through this, you can't imagine the range of emotions you go through.
Guilt. Did I do something to hurt the baby? Did I eat the wrong thing? Was that shower I took yesterday too hot?
Anger. Why is this happening to us? Haven't we been through enough? I wanted to scream at the universe "I'VE LEARNED ENOUGH LESSONS!
Sadness. I won't be pregnant in a few days.
I guess I understand why most people wait until they are out of their first trimester to tell people.
My husband and I had to call our family and friends and give them the bad news.
I hate ruining people's days. I hate making people sad. And over the past three years we have made far too many phone calls giving people bad news.
"The cancer has spread"
"He's in congestive heart failure"
"She has to have surgery"
"I have to have surgery"
When something like this happens, it doesn't just happen to you, it happens to everyone who cares about you too.
It was my oldest friends 30th birthday on Saturday. We were supposed to go on a ski trip with her. We were supposed to leave right after our OB appointment on Friday.
Instead, I had to call her and give her the bad news and cancel our trip.
She will forever associate her 30th birthday with us losing a baby.
I hate that.
Another close friend is going through a horrible ordeal. Her father fell down a flight of stairs two weeks ago, and has since developed an infection. His kidneys have shut down and he spiked a 108 fever.
He is on his deathbed.
The last thing my friend needed this week was more bad news.
It was very hard to walk around this weekend feeling pregnant, but knowing that the baby was dead.
It wasn't fair that I was nauseous. Or that the area right below my belly button had just started to protrude.
I still maintain that I was not in need of any lessons from the universe, but this situation did remind me who my real friends are, both real life and internet.
Everyone has rallied around us.
Two friends trekked through the blizzard to visit us. One brought chocolate. A third tried to get to us during the blizzard, but couldn't. He tried for SEVEN hours to get to us, but he got stuck on a train and had to go back home.
Yesterday, the day of the surgery, the friend whose 30th birthday was Saturday drove through the snow to the hospital to comfort me. Last night two more friends, who had just been with our friend whose father is dying, came to visit.
One friend who couldn't be with us sent beautiful flowers.
Others called or emailed repeatedly.
I don't know how we would have made it through this weekend with out everyone's support.
I made it through the surgery fine.
I am still coming to terms with a lot of things.
I was pregnant yesterday morning, then I wasn't last night. For lack of a better term, that's weird.
My doctor said to us that the hardest part for most couples is actually getting pregnant and we obviously can do that, so we're lucky. And, although I know that losing a baby in the first trimester is quite common, it will basically make me a nervous wreck during any future pregnancy and I hate that. This has affectively taken the fun out of being pregnant.
When is it OK to start laughing and having fun again?
I'm going to be OK, but it may take a little while.
Please bear with me.
We just got back from the doctor.
The baby has no heart beat.
They are performing surgery on Monday to remove it.
Last night I had a great time with Sherri and her friends celebrating her 30th birthday.
Sherri's birthday was so rocking that even Horatio Sans showed up. Make sure you check out Sherri's Flickr page to see all the pictures. I'm sure she'll post them after she gets over her hangover.
If you're debating whether or not you should meet someone you've met online, you should.
I've made some really great friends.
Today I have an OB appointment and another sonogram. Maybe this time it will actually look like I'm carrying a baby.
After my appointment we are driving to Hunter Mountain for a ski trip (on which I won't be skiing). There is a blizzard watch. We might get stuck there.
Keep your fingers crossed for us.
You guys are lame, but I'm still playing so here you go:
This was on our wedding day. I love how this picture captures how HAPPY I was.
This was at the Las Vegas airport, probably about six years ago.
I was visiting my mom and the husband (then boyfriend) had been skiing in Utah and was meeting me in Las Vegas.
I hadn't seen him in a few weeks so I was VERY happy to see him.
A friend of ours came to the airport with me to pick him up and snapped this picture.
I was about two in this picture. I love my blonde hair and how happy I look. I also am digging the overalls.
Let's play a game.
A photo sharing game.
Post on your blog the following pictures:
1) Your favorite picture of your self
2) Your favorite picture of you with someone you love
3) Your favorite picture of you as a baby or child
And, please tell us a little something about each picture.
Leave a comment and let me know if you played so I can check out your pictures.
I'm going to go search through my photos so I can play too....
Sometimes I wish I had the kind of morning sickness where you can vomit at the drop of a hat.
That way when I walk by the cigar shop right down the street from me, I could vomit directly on one of the assholes smoking cigars at 10 am in the middle of the sidewalk.
I don't usually do memes, but Greenie called me hot, so, well, how could I refuse?
Four jobs you have had in your life:
Four Movies you could watch over and over:
Office Space (This is a FUCK!)
Dirty Dancing (Nobody puts Baby in the corner)
Forrest Gump (Run Forrest! RUN!)
Clerks (Try not to suck any dicks on your way out of the parking lot!)
Four Places I have Lived:
New York, NY
Dix Hills, NY
Four TV Shows I like to watch:
Listing just four is VERY hard for me. These are just the first four that popped into my head.
Best Week Ever
Four Places I have been on vacation:
Paris, France (eh)
San Francisco, California (loved it)
Sonoma, California (liked it even though I don't drink wine)
Four Websites I go to daily:
Four favorite foods:
BAGELS (especially everything bagels)
The cold sesame noodles at a little restaurant in Cambridge, MA called Cafe China
Cap'n Crunch (but I never let myself have it)
Chocolate (I don't trust people who don't like chocolate)
Four places I would rather be right now:
Some place warm
Some place warm
Some place warm
On February 14, 2005 (yes, Valentines Day) I received some horrible news; my father's melanoma had spread to his lungs.
I have mentioned before that someone very close to me has cancer, but I've never mentioned who.
My father is a ship wreck researcher/explorer. He's sort of a celebrity in his field. Up until recently he was keeping his cancer a secret, so I couldn't mention it, but now he's pretty much told everyone in the shipwreck community so I feel more comfortable talking about it.
It has been very weird for me to not be able to write about it, so this is quite a relief.
It's a HUGE part of my life.
Every three weeks my father comes and stays with us for a week because he gets his chemo treatments in New York.
No one ever wants to go through something like this, but it has taught me so much.
My father REFUSES to give up. His stubbornness has caused me frustration many times in my life, but now I'm thankful for it.
I swear that your mental attitude has a lot to do with how well your body fights a disease. My father is a testament to that. Here we are almost a year later, he has one of the deadliest forms of cancer, and his tumors have stalled. They're even giving him an eight week break from the chemo.
We do not not treat his disease as if it is something we should be embarrassed of. We do not whisper about it; we shout about it.
When my father leaves in the morning for his chemo treatment the last thing I say before he walks out the door is "Have fun!"
On Monday when I went to his doctor's appointment with him, my pregnancy exhaustion was consuming me and I was lying on a couch in the waiting room. My father looked at me and said "Hey! I'm the patient!"
This disease has caused us to make a lot of sacrifices, but we refuse to give up our sense of humor.
Part of me is grateful for the time I've had with my father, but part of me hates how it hangs over me.
When I think about the future it's weird to realize that I can't count on my father being there.
But I guess, no one should really count on tomorrow.
My father will probably be there for the birth of my child, but will he still be around to teach my child how to swim?
He's taught all four of his kids and all five of his grandchildren to swim. I don't want my child to be the exception.
Right now, my father has no symptoms from his disease. It's not making him sick, yet.
I think that will be the hardest part for me, seeing my father sick. He's always been the strongest person I know.
But I try not to think about that.