Medical update
Medical update as of yesterday: waiting for my period to start to get x-rays. As of today: waiting for test results.
I really was comfortable with going ahead with the x-ray because I was really sure I wasn’t pregnant. But my doctor tapped my file (record: 8 miscarriages, 2 live births, 1 living child… god that’s 1/10) and looked at me and hmmed and said no, wait. So I did. And of course I had a long wait, ’cause my body is helpful like that. Anyways, today I was fine to go so I went.
Saw the ultrasound technician who was chattier than usual. Lymph nodes in neck still large: check; larger than last time in fact, and it is “technically possible” that they are causing the headaches. Chest x-ray: taken. Results will be back to my doctor tomorrow or Thursday. She doesn’t work one of those two days, so I’ll say Friday just to be good. The X-ray is looking for a) anything mechanical that might’ve gone wrong, ’cause the original pain I have could be simply a break of the um scapula? the bone up by your throat. But mostly b) looking for tumours.
B) is a little freaky.
If these come back negative, I’m on the list for a MRI to look for lesions (MS), and also to examine the spine. I think. Something like that. I also have to watch the thyroid nodules but they seem to be the least of the problems (although with the lymph nodes next to them swollen, they may well have to be biopsied. So may the lymph nodes. Joy.).
It is going really slowly. Part of this is that my doctor’s having issues so she’s not in the office as much as usual, and part of it is the Canadian system.* And part of it is how badly I suck at getting across how lousy I feel or what my physical experience really is. It gets fragmented, as I think it does for lots of people, but the added dollop is that I am never entirely able to connect with emotion while in a doctor’s office. So I can be at home thinking “my god! this is bad!” and get in the doctor’s office and say, “oh yes… it was bad?” . o O (I think?)
Also I don’t entirely feel pain in doctor’s offices. I mean I do, but I don’t. So the poking around “Does this hurt?” “… yes?” doesn’t go that well. This is one reason I actually wait for my own doctor to be in the office to see. She may not entirely get it, but she does know me and she knows that if I say “… yes?” I mean “OW OW OW.”
(Except labour was painful. Well kind of. I never did feel a contraction with Noah as anything serious until after I panicked over the epidural(1). And then I felt one painful contraction. And then I pushed and he came out. But with Emily yes, oh my god, that hurt.)
Anyways, so I did the tests and I wrote down a list of problems I have been having and how bad they were, like last weekend’s exhaustion-fest. So soon I’ll go in and do my best to say OW OW OW.
* Although it’s erroneous to think this, as I am one hundred percent aware (see: Emily, died), many Canadians take speed to be a reasonably accurate indicator of how sick they are. If the bloodwork came back from the lab and my doctor’s office called with an appointment with a specialist, I would know that the results were not good. If no one ever calls, the results are good.
This is especially true where Great Big Expensive Machines are concerned. The time I thought I was having a stroke, I had a MRI within the hour. That I can’t get in until the end of November could be taken as a sign that nothing is going to kill me. But then, see above.**
** The bad sign today was that my doctor had forgotten to check off a box for the x-ray so they were going to make me come back tomorrow, but after the ultrasound they took me for an x-ray despite lack of proper box-checking.
(1) Why was I getting an epidural with no pain? Because we thought we were 99% of the way to a c-section because the written orders were to go to a c-section if there was EVEN ONE heart decel. As it turns out, there was one heart decel - but he was out before the doctor read the tape.
Weekend report
No running yet. I’m not well enough right now. Onwards.
This weekend was one of those weekends you kind of live for as a parent.
Saturday Noah and I hung out until his gymnastics class, to which Carl took him while I hit grocery stores. He loved it and came home and showed off different kinds of jumps. Then I think I laid down for a bit, but after that and Noah’s nap, we went out to the big bookstore to browse for a while. Mostly he played with the trains (despite having a ton of Brio & Thomas stuff at home, it’s more fun at the bookstore). Then we hit a restaurant for a treat for dinner, ignoring my meal plan, and Noah was so. into. it. And well behaved. And just a joy.
Gratuitous weirdness: Noah was given “Thomas the Magic Railroad” by my parents which is as far from the really nice Rev. Audry stories as you can get and into insipid, idiotic children’s drek. (No real blame to them; you can’t tell from the cover.) Noah, of course, loved it. I think one of the reasons he loves it is because there is a villain, Diesel 10, with whom he has become obsessed. Nothing else we’ve shown him (err… besides the Incredibles *cough*) really has a villain. So he goes on at some length about Diesel 10 and his crunchy claw.
So at dinner, Noah announces “Claw ends in ‘w’.”
????!!
I’m assuming his teachers at school spelled it out for him. But… um?
Today was my turn to take Noah to a class, swimming. We discovered he is big enough to stand in the (very shallow side, but not baby) pool! Also, he can put his face in and blow bubbles. The class is still the mum-tot class; technically he is old enough to do the “go off with the solo instructor” class but I have a thing about not pushing kids past their comfort zone in the pool too early. He enjoyed the pace of the mum-tot class fine.
Then I needed a nap. Which horrified me. This is not ‘out of shape’ - seriously - this is ‘ill.’
Afterwards we went apple picking though and it was great. He could reach apples and picked them really well, even looking for the red cheek on the Crispins. It was about 3 hours of effort (drive there, park, wait for wagon to far orchard, ride wagon, pick, wait for wagon, come back, weigh/pay) for 15 minutes of effort but boy did he get that apples grow on trees, we pick them, etc. Carl, who grew up where apple picking is more work than privilege, was kind of shocked at both the number of families there and that it costs just about the same as buying them at the grocery store (plus one’s own gas). I was just happy to have the day outside and the taste of fresh apples.
Despite my reasonable certainty that whatever is wrong with me is not some deadly cancer, I did find myself, freaked out from the need for a nap and the trouble I was having with simply walking down the rows, thinking that these are the memories I would want to make. So that’s a good thing.
The universe is conspiring to give me what I need
Tomorrow is parent-teacher night at Noah’s school. Carl will be attending. I will not. I will be at a post-book-launch dinner to which I was invited. People will be attending whom I admire, including people you probably have heard of if not read. So I said yes. I feel really bad about missing P-T night, but Carl will take notes. And I do know all the teachers but one.
I expect to come out of it dying to finish my book.
My health is still rocky. My life is thinly balanced because every couple of days I have to go to bed at 7:30, and on weekends I either sleep or end up lying on the floor at 3 pm Sunday anyway. I am unhappy about this.
Regardless, I am seeing that there are lifestyle changes I need to make. I’ve been living in my head too much this year of adjustment to motherhood + full time work + job ramping up. So I am signed up for yoga, have been taking steps to eat better all day and not just at home (the dread work snacks) and weirdly today the publisher of my magazine decided that we* should train for the half-marathon that goes with my publication in the US.
In May.
I kind of doubt, never actually having been a runner, that I can achieve this but I certainly can give it a go. I’ll have to be really really careful especially right now but I think I could manage a 20 minute run a few times a week (”run” to start) without killing myself and see what happens.
Lord knows that is not in the marathon category but I am curious as to whether it would help or hinder my current condition.
You would think that trying to finish a book and run in the limited time that I have is crazy and it kind of is. But I do know that historically I write more and better when I am working out. And I’m thinking Noah might consent, with bribery, to sit in a jogging stroller for a 20 min run provided he eventually got to play t-ball. So I might try it. I’m sitting with it for a couple of days.
* It’s voluntary of course. But not the kind of voluntary you want to ignore.
Pictures at last
Noah during preparation for his 3rd birthday party (ugh not sure what happened to the quality there, but it is so him I must leave it).
Noah at the park ‘way’ down the street (10-15 min walk).
Noah and Carl kicking the ball around at the park down the street.
New car!
I lied about the pictures
Or rather, left the camera at work. So instead a lovely health update.
Short answer J (love you too): actually getting worse.
Long answer: the dizziness has eased up a bit but the fatigue is worse, and I get migraines or some kind of Disturbance at about 2 am almost every night. Last night my entire right side felt like I was getting a fever - shaky and tingly - while my left side was fine. Usually if there’s tingly numbness to be had it’s in the left side.
I have eliminated TIA (mini-stroke) just because there’s never any weakness and my doctor agrees that middle of the night decision seems reasonable but… perhaps I could go to the ER maybe if it gets any different? Right now, no. I’ve had a CAT scan. I’ve had a MRI. I know it’s important to get them if you need them, but they make me dissociate for days, or did before. It’s the strapped down immobile alone in a room thing. Thus do abusive fucks ensure that people have problems all their lives. But, I have a son, so if I ever truly suspect TIA I will go. My tests include typing.
At 4 pm I still get dizzy but not as bad as I had been getting. The part in my throat/scapula? thingy at the base of the throat? where it feels painful and like someone is choking me is the same or nominally worse. One theory is that the reason I am getting migraines in the night is that I hold my neck stiffly due to the throat pain.
Another theory I am holding tighter to my chest is that the choking bit has us at a level of anxiety where our body gets weird. But again not willing to partake of the quick cure (drugs) yet, and yoga takes a while. I am a contentious patient no?
The honest bit is that I estimate that I can do this another month before I have to start easing back on work. If we don’t track it down and start treating it, and it doesn’t improve, it’ll be tough choices. But, I’m not worrying yet. I’ve had weird shit before and it all came out ok in the end. But this time I’m not playing superhero and if I get to where I need to sleep in order to be ok with my son, then sleep wins and work loses. Meanwhile I’m trying to get further ahead at work so it wouldn’t be a disaster.
Where we’re at in investigating: I had a new round of blood tests on Fri which have not come back yet, thyroid again, liver, sed rate again + the rest of the CBC. My doctor also called the original ultrasound tech to talk about my thyroid/lymph nodes. After that conversation she called me to tell me that I need to get a chest x-ray, stat… oh but I’m not pregnant am I?
Well due to a birth control issue, it is extremely unlikely but slightly possible (don’t get me started on how stupid it was to get into that position in the midst of this, but you know, if I were dying I would want to have had maximum sex; see also: sleeping toddler/seize the moment/not the box o’condoms/ :)), so we have to wait for my period to start before getting one. But the minute I get my period I must rush down to the x-ray spot.
The reason for the x-ray is to look for lymphoma tumours, so not really a happy reason, as we’ve circled back to that. That’s what scares me the most. We’d also decided not to biopsy the Other Swollen Node under my arm that I had ignored for oh, a year,* but we may revist that decision. Apparently the ultrasound technician put the fear into my doctor.
Other fun things on the table include back problems, MS and its ilk, and other nasties, but you know, one step at a time.
My doctor starts with the most likely + worst things and moves out from there and it takes time, because she’s conservative. Also, the very most likely thing is that not all these things are related.
I’m more coherent in a way ’cause I’ve adjusted though, as much as one can adjust to a vise around one’s neck, dizzy spells, and 2 am migraines/numbness. And, get this: none of the film festival stuff went past 3:30. :)
* in my defense, I didn’t really know that it was a big deal.
On fear, and the moving through thereof.
My camera will definitely be sorted out tomorrow as I have to download Jeremy Northam pictures for work. Tonight I remain lazy.
I’m going to toot my own horn here.
When the possibility of covering this particular interview came up my internal response was: no. No, because I have no energy. No, because I was afraid to screw it up, though, was the bigger no.
My spotty journalistic training to date (writing, excellent; journalism, spotty) hasn’t really thrown me in at the deep end in that all the interviews I have done have been people whom one could contact again to say “gosh I forgot to ask you…” But film festival interviews are flying without a safety net. Mind you, it’s TIFF and people are kind and lovely. But still. If your recording device screws up you’re screwed (mind did not). And so on and so forth.
Also, they just felt - feel - foreign and scary to me. It’s not the questions themselves; I can come up with good-enough questions. It’s the whole PR machine and etiquette and god, thin luscious people, surrounding it. People I have seen in films. In theatres, in my living room, and for the 3 months I had a tv in my bedroom while Carl was in Ottawa, in my bedroom.
Also, this assignment was for the magazine, which means people will be evaluating it rather than me sticking it on the website and crossing my fingers.
But good lord I said yes. Let me bold that: I said yes. Didn’t someone say 90% of success is showing up? In the past I have not shown up all the time. But this time, the stars aligned and I showed up.
I showed up shaky and fearing the digital camera. I still fear the digital camera and should take a course. But I got my 14:37 of interview, I got a quote on midlife, I got two pictures, and I did not do anything too egregious.
It really helped that I genuinely loved the film. It’s the kind of film Carl and I always end up finding: quirky and weird but with a good emotional centre.
And now I can say I’ve done a film celebrity interview. And I have. And damn it, I am proud of myself for coping with the fear and doing it. No, it was not a ground breaking world-class interview. No one fell at my feet begging me to become the next Brian Linehan (why did he have to die anyway). But I did it. If I ever wanted to do it, I had to start, and that meant doing my first one. And I did. Today. Go me!
And Jeremy Northam is a huge sweetheart and smart too. Actually I’m a little star struck, not because he’s a wicked actor (and he is! Mr. Knightly!) but because he was so firm about his personal life not being available for comment. What can I say? I love a man with boundaries. And a gorgeous man to boot. He has great eyes.
Also this was a very healing exercise for me. Way back in the dark ages, all us non-selves-aware system members had radical fights over university. No, really. I (Lynn) got into a music programme at a university a couple of hrs away. Also a couple of hrs away I (JJ) had gotten into a co-op programme in psychology. In town I (Karen) had gotten into a classics programme, and we had also gotten into an ivy-league school in the states, and the university which I eventually attended, in the most generic of programmes, English. Basically that one won out by default (it was far, it offered us money (so did ivy league school but the US tuition was soooo bad), and everyone could agree that English was ok.)
But I (who did not fill out any applications) always sort of wanted to be a journalist. Ironically I could have gone to a great journalism programme (assuming admittance) here in town for absolutely free, living at home, but I think we all knew that this would crush our spirit. The at-home part, not the journalism. And then as the system shifted and I became more err, prominent, I always thought I would do a Masters in journalism.
Dropping out kind of killed that and the rest, as we say, is history. And really I see now that we’re not - maybe even I am not - cut out for the kind of hard-core, hard-drinking journalism I had in mind. I think we like to hang onto our biases, and also, that would be too crazy - the chasing down on the phone and in person, the travel, the highs and lows, the pressure, whatever.
But still it’s one of those paths not travelled and ok, let’s be frank: today was not hard-core journalism by any stretch of the imagination. But it was close enough, for me, right now. It was going there in person and asking questions in person and getting the story. (Of course now I have to write it. And then hope the film gets a distribution deal.)
I said yes and I’m kind of proud.
Still need to finish my book though. I think I’d like to be on the other side of the interview. :)
Overworked. Overjoyed.
Today I had to work, on a precious weekend. (And right now they are.)
Of course said work involved going to a premiere of Dean Spanley, sitting behind Sam Neill (Jurassic Park! < — betraying plebian taste), and then shaking his hand, along with Toa Fraser’s. I know, it sucks, but someone has to do it. Neill is really cute in person.
Tomorrow I do my very first press junket interview, with Jeremy Northam (same film; it is the only one I’m covering). Last week I got to interview Lousia McCormack about The Catch. Less name recognition and glory but I love interviewing writers about books. I come to film as a thoughtful fan but with books I know what I’m talking about.
Woe is me. Really. Ha ha.
I should make it the bullet blog
I’m working to summon the energy to go get the new software for the new digital camera which MUST be installed before plugging the camera in (is this true?). If I do you will get pictures. Meanwhile, I am going to feed my bullet point addiction.
- why yes, the digital camera did break a mere 24 hrs before Noah’s 3rd birthday party. We got a cheap one, but it takes better pictures (with less fancy stuff) than our old one. Technological process, ahoy.
- I picked my car up TODAY. I left the Volvo at the Hyundai dealer’s today. I live in fear that they are going to call me up and freak out (despite my honesty on the trade-in form). I drove my indigo blue Elantra home today and it was great.
- This is the first new car I have driven. Carl’s Civic was new when we bought it, but it took me over a year to try the clutch. My Volvo was used and in hindsight, I think I should have just gotten a new car at that time. I think I was suffering from the “oh no I couldn’t possibly…” syndrome.
- Did I mention it’s all mine? Normally Carl and I make all major purchases jointly, so that when one of us drops dead it will be easier on the other. But Carl felt strongly at the dealership that it should be in my name only and I qualified and all that. So it’s mine. Of course we will share as usual.
- I lent my voice recorder to a friend/writer who is writing travel pieces for me. I had not at that point really used it in about 2 years. But of course as soon as I did that, I had an interview over the phone (no big deal) and now I have one in person at the film festival (a bigger deal). And of course, this is God’s way of telling me I must get a reporter-style flip Moleskin.
- Before Sunday.
- I am still not well and hope to get in with my doctor tomorrow.
More bullet points o’ doom
- Noah’s party was decimated as one of the two remaining attendees under 30 came down with, of all things, whooping cough. However he and his one little friend + three grandparents had a ball, pizza and cake were had (original plan was sandwiches but we have this deli meat recall/death thing going up here…) and happy birthday was sung. It was just fine. Although we have learned NEVER EVER schedule a birthday party on Labour Day weekend (not that we did, originally). Pics to come.
- Tomorrow I get to do my first author interview for my first interview + review for my new site. Actually I only ever wrote one review for my old site. But I am coming out of the closet now as a reader of fiction and writer of reviews. It helps that my web editor (me) thinks I can do it. ;) Publication date for the review is in two weeks.
- Yes I am going to review The Gargoyle as well. Did you think I was wasting my ARCs?
- Yes this highlights that when I thought I was dying (I’ve decided that having lived another week or so, I’m obviously not) the ONE THING that killed me was that I didn’t write enough. Did I write on the subway today? No. I listened though.
- I was approved for the car loan without incident, just me me me on my my my salary. It’s kind of exciting. Pick the car up Fri.
- I am still sick. I slept for 5 days in a row, basically… oh ok I held Noah’s party, went to the park (pics also to come) and did a few things. But I slept. And I still feel like someone ran me over with a bus. And then a Smart Car. Appointments pending. And yes, the dread AutoImmuneDisorder is on the agenda, and allergy tests in the future. Sigh. I spent my childhood allergic to eggs, wheat, corn, and milk. So it would not entirely surprise me if I end up celiac or something, although I don’t have one of the major symptoms. Good call J.