It is Not Medically Professional to Lose a Boob, or to Break One for that Matter

So the hospital lost my Mom's boobs. Well, technically not her ACTUAL boobs. I am pretty sure those are still attached to her chest. They did, however, lose her mammogram. For three months. THREE MONTHS!

You know what else they did? They sent someone else's films to her doctor. Her cousin's films to be exact. Yes they have the same name - spelled differently. You know what they don't have? The same birth date or social security number. Details, I guess.

So when they finally found her boobs, they proceeded to tell her there was a problem. She needed to get checked out again. Good thing there was that three month gap in time when her boobs were lost, right? I mean, if there was something really wrong, wouldn't you want three months worth of TREATMENT and not someone else's films? Mom told me that the hospital was pointing the fingers at the film place and they were pointing their fingers back at the hospital. "Don't worry," I said, "I will point fingers at both of them in my lawsuit." After all, what is the point of having a lawyer in the family, if you can't sue someone?

Then they put my Mom through that tortuous test. You know, the one that makes your boobs turn into pancakes? Again. Except they only had to do one, so she had one pancake and one apple. How's that for a visual? It kept her laughing even days later when she was still in pain and declaring "THEY BROKE MY BOOB."

All's well that ends well. Her boobs are fine. They are still on her chest. And last I heard, they are both apples now.

But I've still got my eye, and my fingers, on that hospital.

Um, Your Baby Sounds Like a Furnace and I Am Pretty Sure That Is Not a Good Thing

Today I had to go to the doctor. You know, THAT doctor. The one that wants you to say "Ahhh" with parts other than your mouth. Yeah, I just grossed myself out with that one.

In any event, I had a bunch of time to kill while dressed in a gown with the opening facing front and a piece of paper over my lap. As in 30 minutes worth of time. Did I mention it was freezing in there?

As I was studying the poster that explained the various parts of a vagina*, I realized that I could hear an ultrasound happening next door. This was not surprising as there were about 50 pregnant women in the lobby when I arrived. So I listened to the WOM WOM WOM sound and thought to myself:

You are witnessing a little life growing and a little heart beating. How precious.

Then I thought:

Wow! That heart is beating fast.

Followed by:

That heart sounds like a train. THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THAT BABY. WTF PEOPLE? IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE??

Then I got distracted when I heard that my doctor had a phone call and began to think I might have to frickin' call into work if this first thing in the morning appointment went any longer when I realized that damn ultrasound sound was STILL GOING ON. So I thought:

That is one hell of a long ultrasound.

And:

That can't be right.

And it wasn't. You know why? It was the frickin' heating and cooling in the building making that noise.

THE FURNACE.

Yes, I totally thought the furnace was an ultrasound.

The doctor eventually came in, heard the story and immediately revoked my female gender card.

But first he made me open wide.

*The more you know...

I Am a Vampire, but There Are Drugs for That

Recently I went to the doctor for my yearly physical and blood work. That is, if you call recently three months ago. Anyhow, I never called to get the results of my blood work. For most this would not be a problem. As B says, "if there is a problem, they will call YOU." In theory, this is probably correct. With my doctor's office, nothing could be farther from the truth.

You see, back in October of 2006, my doctor sent me for a sleep study as he thought I may have sleep apnea. When I didn't hear back from his office, I called them. The nurse proceeded to tell me that I had been diagnosed with sleep apnea and that the doctor wanted to send me for a second test. Apparently I was just supposed to know this without the office telling me, like I am psychic or something. The joke was on them though. Turns out after a year of battling with a sleep machine, I didn't have sleep apnea after all. I am narcoleptic. In case you don't know, that is pretty much the exact OPPOSITE of sleep apnea.

Yes, I still see the same doctor. At least, the same office.

So I call the other day and tell the nurse it is probably stupid that I am calling because they would have called me if it was important (knowing all the while that probably isn't true). She finds my records and says mostly my blood work was fine, however:

Nurse: Your Vitamin D levels are low.

Me: I was wondering about that and meant to have you check them.

Nurse. Well, it is LOW.

Me: Okay.

Nurse, VERY VERY LOW.

Me: um...okay?

Nurse: You need to take a supplement.

Me: Sure.

Nurse: 3,000 units a day

Me: WOW.

Of course when I tell B this he says it is because I never go outside. I do go outside. To get into my car. To get into the office. To get into the house. That is outside, right? Also? I have very nice cancer-free skin. That's a plus. I told B that he would appreciate that in 20 years. He merely responded:

"You will be OLD"

Thanks. Apparently, my Dad and brother had the same reaction, chuckling about my not going outside. I also informed my brother that I had beautiful skin. "Yeah, pale, alabaster, translucent skin", he said.

Jealous, much?

It is not that I don't want to go outside. But what am I supposed to do out there? You have all seen my front porch. Can't sit there. My porch swing is on a covered porch. Sometimes I walk to the store and to Starbucks. One time I hung out at the park until people looked at me weird because there were kids there and I didn't have any kids even though I was swinging on the kids' swing. I go on walking tours. Picnics and barbecues are nice. But on an everyday basis, what am I supposed to be doing out there? Anyone?

I can't help it that fresh air and sunshine makes me want to open all of the blinds, drapes, and windows.

And nap.

Isn't that what a narcoleptic vampire is supposed to do?

If You Don't Cooperate, I am Sending the Lion After You

We are in the waiting room for blood draws only.

You are in your dress pants, dress shoes and undershirt, having already removed you dress shirt, suit jacket and top coat in anticipation of having your blood drawn.*

So when the nurse comes to the door and calls you name, you look more than a little bit foolish when you look up and answer "What?" as if you have no clue why she is there.**

On another note, is a sexy lion costume really appropriate for a doctor's office or any office for that matter?

Halloween brings out all of the freaks.***

*I typically do not completely undress to get blood drawn from my ARM, but that's just me.****

**The appropriate response is to smile and/or say "yes", as you get up and move toward the nurse. It is not proper to just sit there with your newspaper saying "what" repeatedly. Take note half dressed man!

***Or is that a full moon? I can't keep this straight.

****I also do not get undressed in common waiting areas. Again, that's just me.

Crime Watch Wednesday: Take a Bite Out of This!

This week's crime watch chronicles bring us the tale of the utility worker who couldn't run fast enough:

A utility worker was bitten by a large dog while performing his job. The worker was approached by the dog in the driveway of a home. When the dog didn't like the worker's reason for being there, he bit him. The owner of the house, home at the time, refused to respond to the worker's screams for help. Luckily a nearby neighbor came to the rescue with peroxide and a bandage. Sadly, the neighbor did not have a rabies kit nearby. When questioned by the police, the homeowner claimed that it was not his dog and he did not believe the dog had actually bit the man and the dog was on a leash at the time. The police witnessed two puncture wounds on the worker. The police also noted that the dog was on a very long leash that allowed the dog to walk down the driveway and approach those in the neighborhood. Charges are pending against the dog for assault and battery and against the homeowner for being a bad neighbor.

Hmm...maybe I made that last part up? The point is, your dog, or the dog you were watching, BIT someone. The dog punctured the man's skin while roaming on its very long leash down the driveway. The least you could do is offer some assistance to the man. I know you are afraid of being sued, but pretending it didn't happen isn't going to make it go away.

When I was a young teen we had a crazy dog aptly named Bandit*. This dog was NUTS. She would climb, not jump, but CLIMB our chain link fence to get out and run the neighborhood. Her favorite things to do? Chase cars. And not just like in the cartoons. She would chase a car, get IN FRONT OF IT, make it stop and try to bite its bumper. I cannot tell you how many times in my life I spent chasing that dog. In a car. That's right. She would only come back to you if you drove by, she chased you, stopped you, you opened your door and then she jumped in happy as a clam.** Despite her insanity, she loved everyone (except the Rottweilers across the street and small kittens or puppies) and never bit anyone.

Until she bit someone, that is.

At that time Bandit was older and couldn't really jump or climb the fence. She really didn't have the energy to chase cars either. Thus, she was able to spend more time in the backyard without our fearing we would need to grab our car keys at any minute. There was a young boy next door that would pet her and talk to her and she would lick him. One day, we decided to put Bandit on a leash in the front yard while we were on the porch. Like the owner above, it was rather a long leash but it did not extend past our front grass. At the time, I was on the porch. The young boy from next door ran past Bandit and screamed a little "you can't catch me" song and Bandit caught him. And bit him. She was old and cranky.

Now, unlike the guy above, I did not deny what happened. I jumped up, made sure the boy was okay (he had a scratch and no puncture wounds), went and got his mom and explained what happened and apologized. All was well. We did not get sued, Bandit's leash got shorter, and our neighbors still liked us.

Lesson: Apologies, peroxide and a bandage go a long way.

Denial fools no one but yourself.***

*When my Dad first told me we were getting a dog, I wanted to name her Scruffles. I was 13. Too old to have thought that shit was cute. Lucky for Bandit, she looked like a bandit. Lucky for me too as I cannot imagine running through the neighborhood yelling SCRUFFLES.

**This was not good because Bandit would get into anyone's car that opened their door. One day I was chasing her and someone tried to take her. Sometimes I wonder if I should have just let them. They had no clue what they were getting into. RIP Bandit.

***I am so deep and profound. I also sound like a fortune cookie. One of those bad ones that tell you proverbs but not your FORTUNE. Grrr.

Who Me? Fat? Come on.

We went to the vet over the weekend. By "we" I mean me carrying two fat ass cats in one carrier. B met me there and I immediately told him "these two need to lose some weight." Apparently, only one does.

Chester, my friend, you are FAT. The vet says he has gained a half a pound according to the scale, immediately after she had pet him and declared "you are a BIG boy". B tried to claim he was solid. Oh he is solid all right, 18.5 pounds of solid.

18.5 pounds. Did you read that?

That is not even his highest weight. His highest was something like 19.8 and we had to put him on a diet. We may have to try that again, although it is hard to regulate food when you have two cats.

Meanwhile, Mooch is holding tight at 11 pounds.

You know what that means? I was carrying almost 30 lbs of cat. 29.5 to be exact.

You may not believe Chester is so "curvy" if you haven't met him in person, but the next best thing is some pictures, so here you go:

He looks so rough in those last two. Poor Chester. The vet also said that he was a handsome poor while peering into his face, and she is right. He may be solid, he may need a diet, but he is a handsome boy!

In other news...do you know how difficult it is to wrangle two cats into one carrier, especially when one has all of his claws? Luckily I outsmarted them and shut every door upstairs. Just me, the cats and the hallway. You can run, but you cannot hide. Literally.

Spare Parts? I Have a Few

I recently had my gallbladder removed. As recent as Tuesday. Apparently you can live without your gallbladder. You know what is hard to live with? A barely functioning gallbladder. Makes you feel like shit, sometimes literally. So that bugger had to go. Three small cuts later and a big LASER*, and I am gallbladder free.

While I was in the hospital being prepared for this planned surgery, it reminded me of the last time I had some parts removed, namely my appendix. Apparently you do not need that either. In fact, it is so unnecessary the doctor could not even tell me its function. Apparently my appendix's function was to fail. Miserably.

Unlike my current surgery, the appendix was much more emergent. It all started with an attack that I did not recognize until much later that left me in such excruciating pain that I had to have my dad come get me to drive me to the doctor. By the time we got to his office, the pain was gone and all was well. Luckily the next attack waited about 6 months or this surgery would have been performed in the Dominican Republic and more like something from Turistas than something involving a LASER.

The night of my unbeknownst-to-me-surgery, I went to bed feeling fine. Within an hour I felt like crap and it just continued to get worse. Nothing I did made it better. Not trips to the toilet, cool wet rags, lying perfectly still. Of course it took me about 5 hours to realize that the sickness and pain were actually getting worse and were concentrated to the center of my stomach. So, of course, I got up and checked WebMd. Sure enough, sounded like my appendix. I decided it was ER time. In my pain riddled and delusional state, I decided I was going to drive myself. So I woke up B:

Me: Hey, I have to go to the hospital. I will be back later.

B: What?

Me: I am in a lot of pain and it is getting worse. I need to get to the hospital.

B: Do you want me to drive you?

Me: I don't care. I just have to go.

B: Give me 5 minutes.

By the time the 5 minutes were up (and it actually could have been less), I was lying on the living room floor in a ball. Yeah, I wasn't driving anywhere. Off we went to the hospital.

Here is what you need to know from there:

• We arrived at 4 am. They did not diagnose me until 4 pm. 12 hours later.
• They gave me stupid tests like a gyno exam
• They then lost my tests
• I threw up around 11 and felt 100% better and figured there was nothing wrong with me
• They didn't go get B from the lobby until around noon
• B had to rifle through my purse to find money for cookies to eat
• I ate nothing
• They did not give me one sip of water during that time (actually worked out well considering surgery).
• I had just sent B off to work when the doctor told me I needed surgery.
• I interrupted the doctor to call B back to the hospital. The doctor did not like that
• After being diagnosed at 4 pm, I did not go into surgery until 8 pm.

The appendix came out without a hitch and within a week I was feeling good. Probably in large part due to Mooch's nursing which involved laying directly on my stomach where the stitches were for three days straight. On day four he left, so I figured I was better.

Other things B and I learned in the hospital:

• the whole seen in 30 minute rule - yeah, INITIALLY seen. After that it could be hours
• doctors do really say things like "I have some good news and some bad news"
• in my case the good news was "we found your tests!" (too bad you didn't tell me you lost them) and the bad news was "we have to remove your appendix"
• having a catheter inserted is uncomfortable
• however it is not excruciatingly painful as the girl next to me made it out to be. Not sure how she planned on birthing that baby she was carrying if she could not handle a catheter
• some people believe that having an ultrasound is so that the baby "floats so you can see it better"
• some people will wait 3 days before coming to the ER with ALL signs of a heart attack and prior heart issues because their doctor said to "ask for him and he wasn't here"
• some people will wait until both of their feet are swollen three times their size, purple and falling off before telling the ER there might be a problem

Ahhh...memories. This is also the story I pull out against B every now and then "remember the time you didn't think I needed to go to the hospital?" Because he totally didn't believe that I needed to go and my whole feeling better later did nothing to dissuade him from that belief.

Despite his belief that I may not have needed to go to the hospital, he did take me. That is what you do when you are in love.

Or at least when one of you is curled up on the ball moaning.

*I dont know if a laser is actually involved, but I like to think that it is and say it like Austin Powers LASER. B loves it. Just ask him.

Holy Mammaries!

Today I had the lucky opportunity to get my first ever mammogram. And when I say "lucky" I mean "forced-on-me-by-some-evil-doctor-that-thinks-he-is-doing-good-and-doesn't-he-know-those-don't-start-until-your-40". Having heard how they like to take your breast and squash it until you can eat it with some blueberry syrup, I was less than thrilled. I went anyway.

Boys, you may want to stop reading here.

You've been warned.

I arrived at my destination with the mindset that I would completely forget everything I had ever heard about mammograms and act like I know nothing. A blank slate of sorts (kind of like Echo for those of you that watch Dollhouse. FYI - if you like Joss Whedon, watch Dollhouse). While waiting in line to check in, I noticed that they had a "take a number" setup for those getting blood work. As a line started to form behind me, a guy says "are you here for blood work?" Ha! "No," I respond, "I am here for the pancake breakfast." Okay, no I didn't say that, but I should have.*  Those lucky dogs got numbers and were in and out before they called my name.

When my name was called I followed the nurse to the imaging room that had been painted some obnoxious pink color. Okay, I know pink is the color for breast cancer and also for girls, but really? The last thing I want to think about when I am getting a mammogram is breast cancer and I am well aware that I am a girl. Not to mention that the pink I am referring to was like a Pepto Bismol pink but with orange in it. Can you imagine? You might not want to try. In fact, I thought I might need some Pepto Bismol to help my stomach from just being in the room. Obviously, I did not know the fun was just beginning.

After changing into a pink (of course!) patterned smock thing which "opens in the front please" on top of my polka dotted work skirt and knee high boots - ROWR (just imagine if those blood work guys could have seen me then), I filled out a form, ON PINK PAPER. Overkill much? The tech asked me if I had heard awful stories about mammograms. Wait! There are AWFUL stories? WHY WAS I HERE???? I nonchalantly acted like I had heard absolutely nothing until she said "we are going to use compression which means..." at which point I interrupted her to assure her that I knew exactly what compression meant. I did not need to hear what was going to happen.

So the machine? A silver tray where the tech not so gently plops one of your girls on top and then molds it around until it does her bidding. The compression? A piece of plastic. Seriously, like a tray. Maybe I could get a drink to go on that tray? I was nervous as heck, sweating bullets and they wouldn't even let me apply deodorant today. Side note: I currently have a stick of deodorant in my purse as I was not about to go an entire day without deodorant. That would be a crime.

Back to the machine. The compression? It REALLY compresses. I did not look because I didn't think that was something I wanted to see but it was very uncomfortable. In fact, the tech said "some women find this uncomfortable." Some women? Let me guess those that don't find it uncomfortable HAVE NEVER HAD IT DONE. Oh and it was twice per girl - once from the top and once from the side. SHE COMPRESSED ME FROM THE SIDE. I may never be the same again. My girls are crying. Well they don't have tear ducts, but they are quite sad. My left one especially. During the second phase I actually said to the tech:

"Huh....just when I thought you couldn't possibly compress anymore, you go ahead and surprise me."

She did not really find that amusing. You know what I didn't find amusing? Having to check to see if I still had nipples.**

* This joke is very timely considering IHOP was giving away free pancakes today. No pancakes for me though, just for the girls.

**I do. Don't worry.

I Blame the Aliens

I woke up with my left nostril sore on the inside and out and a huge bruise in the middle of my forehead.  My nostril feels like a huge probe was jammed inside of it.  No clue what is going on, but I blame the aliens.

Carry on...

*Real post to follow shortly

The One Where I Am Mistaken for a Nurse...

We got free flu shots at the office the other day.  Such a great benefit until you stop and wonder - are they doing this to be kind or to insure that none of us get sick so that we are in the office every day?  Very slick, office people. Very slick.

So I head into the room where there is some assembly line action. Fill out form, rotate, sign paper, lift up sleeve, get jabbed.  The pharmacist for some unknown reason has about 5 smiley star pins on his lapel.  Who knows what those were for, however, it did make me wonder if he pulled out the "special" white coat for us? Was he getting dressed in the morning and thinking "I need the extra special professional look. Hmmm...I know! I will use the coat with all of the smiley star pins!"  Someone asked him for one of the pins, but he said he forgot to bring them. I think he forgot they were all stuck to his coat.

Anyhow, somehow I became the official hand-holder-calmer-downer person.  Like that official title?  I just happened to be sitting next to someone about to be poked when she grabbed my hand and asked me to hold hers.  So I did.  And, honestly, this guy was pretty good. That needle was in and out before you knew it and I swear you did not even feel a pinch. Maybe that is why he had so many stars.  So the other woman in the room had been petrified since she walked in. She told us numerous times that she is deathly scared of needles, can barely be in the room when her daughter gets shots and is terrified. I ask her why she is there. I mean really. You might just rather get the flu then go through such torture.  So I kindly ask her if she wants me to hold her hand since I am now proud of my new position and title.  She takes me up on the offer.  At the last minute, she decides she is strong enough to do it herself but informs us she doesn't want to know when the needle is going in.  I calmly talk her through it and she erroneously figures as to when she is being stabbed and makes a face which prompts me to say "You know that it is all done? The needle was out by the time you made that face."  She exclaims "wow, that was painless" and strolls out like it was never that big of a deal.  Smiley starred pin guy thanks me for my service, does not offer me a pin and so I am on my way.

I stroll back to my office wondering if I should just become a nurse and ponder what a little white hat would look like on me.*  Apparently, I was not the only one that thought I would look good in a nurse's hat, because the secretary outside my office asked me the following:

Her:  Dani, is a virus contagious?

Me: A virus?

Her: Yes, is it contagious?

{pause}

It is important to note that this is a woman with three grown kids whom I could only imagine have been sick at some point in their lives. Multiple times I am sure. Did she never learn WHY they were sick or HOW they got sick? Color me puzzled.

{resume}

Me:  Yes viruses are contagious. That is how you get sick.

Me: Are you worried because of that boy's rash?

Her: Yes.

{pause}

The day prior someone in our office brought her boy to work because he had a "weird" rash and could not go to school. So she brought him to our office.  Makes sense. She then went around showing everyone the rash. Some people touched it. I call them stupid.  I did not touch it but did look at it.  Some people declared it was ring worm. It was not ring worm.  It was a rash due to a virus he had. Hence this conversation I am having.

{resume}

Me: I don't think you have to worry.  He had a bacterial virus.

Her: [blank look]

Me: There are different types of viruses - airborne like cold, flu or bacterial, which I believe you can only get if you come into contact with the rash, skin, mucus, whatever.

Her: okayyyyyy

Me:  Why do you think you caught it?

Her: Well I am itchy.

Me: You are itchy because you are thinking of his rash just like you were itchy the other day because you saw a bug.

Her: You are right

Me: I know.

So there you have it. I am a nurse disguised as a legal professional. Who knew.  Who knows if anything I said made any kind of medical sense either, but it sure sounded good.

*I know nurses don't wear those hats anymore but I like the retro look, k?