Kitten a Go-Go

Bronchitis is lame

I have bronchitis for the millionth time due to my lack of respectable immune system.  When I attempt to sleep, I can't exhale properly and it feels like I am choking.  So I am awake.  Here's the more pressing issue:

How in the hell have I taken the following and I am still awake:  1 mg klonipin, 25 mg Celexa, 50 mg Topimax (earlier in the evening); (then at bedtime) 10 mg ambien, 37/2.5 Tramadol, 75 mg Nortriptylene, 1 Tylenol PM and a dose of the good Rx cough syrup. 

And here I am.  Type type typing away.  Coherently. 

Bronchitis, you suck.  I can type, but I cannot speak, lay down or move quickly.  I hate you.  More than Glenn Beck.  So suck it.

6.2 Hours and all I got was this lousy plastic wristband

Look, here's the thing.  I have taken a lot of medication tonight, so you are going to have to figure out how to navigate this little mess that I'm sure to write.  If I could get into a comfortable sleeping position, this would not be happening.  But, my lucky readers, sleeping hurts, so here we are.

As I indicated in my last post, I have medical shit going on.  (Sorry.  Brian says I curse a lot in my blogs, but whatever.)  Tomorrow, I have the REV and SSEP and i thought everything would be normal until then.  Nope.  Wasn't happening. 

Here's how my day started.  Get up.  Take thyroid meds.  Go back to sleep.  Wake up.  Go downstairs for breakfast.  Realize that right arm won't work.  won't go up and down or in any other direction that arms should go.  lay on couch and hope it will pass.  It didn't.  eat breakfast.  (tricky with limited motion.)  go upstairs.  Demonstrate limited range of motion to Brian.  Brian scowls and doesn't understand that i seriously can't lift my arm without numbness or searing pain.  When I get this across to him, he scowls some more, mostly just at the bizarre maladies that I always have.

I am right handed.  Can't work without a function right arm.  Particularly if right arm is unwilling to cooperate in any way with even the slightest movement. 

Call neuro.  When neuro finally calls back, says that MRI came out normal (this is good because MS is unlikely now) and i should go to hospital to get cardio work up, just in case.  I don't want to go to the hospital.  It takes to long and everyone is covered in germs.  So I try to lay down.  Way too painful.  Reluctantly decide to go to hospital. 

Want to know what is a bitch when you can't work your dominant arm?  Brushing your teeth and getting a damn bra on your plentiful bosom. 

Go to hospital.  Not too many people there.  Assume quick trip.  Arrived around 11.  Basic triage goes rather quickly.  Get ekg quickly.  then sent to waiting room.  much more crowded.  Must be the lunch crowd rush. 

At this time, there is a spectacular male patient in the waiting room with me.  First, his very old wife is extremely mean.  She spends her time doing crossword puzzles and being mean to hospital staff.  He is old.  He is wearing a strange bathrobe with many patterns, one of which may have been an animal print, and I believe it was tied with a golden color cord.  Underneat this robe, he was wearing a long sleeved button up blue gingham shirt.  It did not match the earth tone safari robe AT ALL.  He finished his ensemble with a pair of white socks and suede beige loafers. 

Blood work time.  I am in the same room as the robe guy while he is going through triage.  We are separated by a curtain.  Chatty phlebotomist insists on talking to me to make sure I won't pass out, but I do overhear that robe guy is there for a testicle problem.  Robe guy is instantly renamed Testicle Guy. 

Back to the waiting room we go.  Watch god awful bold and the beautiful.  What happened to Jack Wagner?  He had such a hit with "All I Need," and now he is stuck on that show.  Yick. 

My turn again.  Back to get a chest xray.  Wheelchair ride was fun.  Had to remove bra.  Not fun again. 

Back to waiting room.  At some point, lady comes out to bring me pills and some crackers.  i guess they worked. 

Then nonstop sitting.  As the World Turns and Guiding Light (if that's what I was watching) are the two worst shows on earth.  Then I watched Ellen.  Then the news came on.  By the time I reached the five hour point, I was getting a little punchy.  I drained my phone battery trying to entertain myself all day.  I was heavily medicated, so my attention span only allowed me to get through about 70 pages of my book. 

Complain that i have been there for 5 hours.  5.25 hours, taken into room where doctor will come talk to me.  Doctor comes about 15 minutes later.  She tells me that my tests were fine and that I probably have a pinched nerve.  I need prescriptions.  go back to waiting room.

Get prescriptions.  Neurontin, Naprocyn (sp?) and Lidocaine patches.  Finally leave into the 104 degree inferno that is Las Vegas Summer.  6.2 hours total. 

I had four other prescriptions to refill, so I got the big paper bag at CVS since there were seven in all. 

Neurontin is good stuff.  it seems to do the trick.  But it doesn't last long enough. 

Tomorrow, i will get all of my other tests done and hopefully they can tell me which of my damn nerves is pinched.  (I just sort of guessed when I put on my lidocaine patch.)  (Sorry, when my dear husband put on my lidocaine patch as he kept saying "Boobies!  I see Boobies!."  That's exactly what you need when you're drugged up.  Your husband taunting  you like a fifth grader.  We got the patch on.)

Now, tomorrow is going to be interesting because I have to wash my damn hair.  I do not know if i can do that with one hand.  I hope Brian doesn't have to leave for court that early...

I am going to try and sleep on the couch right now.  Maybe it will help if i have a little nudist heating pad on my shoulder. 

Dreaming Has Definitely Tasted Better

Due to the strength of my nighty night cocktail, I infrequently remember my dreams.  I'm usually knocked unconscious and I begrudgingly wake up to the sound of Mark and Mercedes in the Morning.  Last night, however, was different. 

I vividly recall having a dream in which I was eating something.  Sadly I don't recall what I was eating in the dream.  That's where my memory gets a bit hazy.  As I continued to nibble on the dream delicacy, my palette was troubled.  Something didn't taste right.  Whatever I was eating was too chewy.  [This little Chelsea Lately fan almost wrote Chuy.  How embarrassing.] 

This section of the dream went on for a notable period.  Due to my particular gift of waking myself from dreams that get too annoying, I woke myself up. 

Here's the thing.  I was chewing.  The object in my mouth was definitely too chewy, just like in my dream.  In my hazy, still medicated state, I opened my mouth to see what was inside. 

It was one of my earplugs.  I tossed it aside and went back to sleep.  This morning, I found it on the floor.  When I told The Boy, he mentioned the choking hazards.  I'm still more concerned about the fact that I am such an active dreamer that I popped my ear plug into my mouth. 

Don't worry.  I didn't eat it and I didn't choke.  Fortunately, I fell asleep immediately after.  Gotta love that Ambien.  I wonder if eating earplugs falls under the night binging side effect...

Will a Change Do Me Good?

Obviously, I can't sleep. Aren't you lucky, internet? 

So, I had that facial yesterday.  I believe the lady when she says that my face is an oil slick because the proactiv dries it out and things are overcompensating.  Long story short:  I can't afford dermalogica. 

Instead, I'm going old school.  Cetaphil, witch hazel and aloe in the morning.  Cetaphil, witch hazel and super organic wrinkle eating night cream that I found in Sunflower and super organic eye cream, also found in Sunflower.  (near that annoying singing guy mentioned in an earlier post who was looking at their vast array of vitamins, I guess.) 

We'll see how this works out.  In law school, I was getting really bad breakouts and the proactiv was the only thing that did the trick.  My skin seems to be changing again (into the icky wrinkled kind).  As I am not ready to inject shit into my face, I must look for alternatives.  We'll see if these potions work.  Since I just had the facial, we are working on a clean slate. 

(I wish I could afford microdermabrasion so that I could really be working from a clean slate.  I had a light peel one time and I don't think it did a damn thing.  Then again, it was the same she-devil known as Waxer Bitch 2007.) 

Mock-A-Sins be damned

Here's the background that you need.  Like a good episode of Lost, this goes here and there, back and forth.  You know the drill.

When I was 23 or so, I first realized that a good pair of heels was like a healing elixer.  Shortly thereafter, I found myself at the podiatrist office.  (Was it really my fault that the healing heels were a half size too small and I wore them all of the time anyway?)  The doctor, disgusted with what she saw said something about pronated hammer toes and splashed some acid here and there and told me:  you will wear new balance sneakers and clarks forever more.  I listened.  Briefly. 

Flash forward.  I generally wore sensible shoes through law school.  But somehow, I kept buying more and more impractical shoes.  I believe it has something to do with my friend Aleks and my first exposure to a special land called DSW.  I realized that this was tricky due to my old lady feet, but I couldn't help myself.  Who can resist the endangered metallic gold leopard?  No one, that's who.

Flash forward.  Last year of law school.  Danielle gets a treadmill.  Since my ankles are weak and don't allow me to run like a normal person trying to burn calories through cardio, I decide to walk quickly at an incline of 12% every day for 30 minutes.  No, no, I don't warm up.  No, i don't cool down.  I walk, I go to work, I go to school.  That's how it went.  An annoying pain developed.  Back to the foot doctor.  Tendonitis.  Kind of bad tendonitis.  Like, wtf are you doing that made this happen?  Again, new balance with inserts and clarks for the rest of my life.  But what about my beautiful sculpture garden of shoe treasures?  Too damn bad if you want to walk.  Fine.  Exercise with stupid slant bored.  Exercise with stupid golf balls.  Do far less strenuous walking on treadmill.

Flash forward.  Licensed attorney.  Beautiful shoes continue multiplying in close to hide all sorts of other things going on internally.  And then there are more.  And then there are more.  and more.  and more.  So many beautiful shoes.  They sit together in color-coded rows, begging to be praised and gently loved.  Practical black heels get worn to work.  After a while, only three days a week because, by Thursday, the pain is far too great.

Flash in the middle.  Roller skating with ladies.  Oh dear roller skating jesus, what on earth is wrong with my ankle?  Why can't it lift up the roller skate without tremendous pain?  I just want to skate with all of the pre teens who think I'm lame.  Ow ow ow.  For days, the pain continues.

Flash to last week.  Pain from sports injury continues.  Ankle frequently rolls.  So annoying.  Curse at ankle frequently.  Court appearance and deposition appearance require appropriate footwear.  Not clarks.  Pretty shoes.  I believe they were Steve Madden and Nine West.  Nothing over the top.  Okay, maybe there was a small cork platform on the Steve Maddens.  But whatever, they are comfy and I won in court.  Good shoes make good lawyers, clearly. 

Flash to Thursday.  Shower.  Reach to floor to obtain bottle of conditioner.  Ankle rolls.  On slippery surface, which adds a bit of a twist.  Howler monkey shrieking begins.  PAIN PAIN PAIN.  Go to work with foot in ankle brace, hoping pants are long enough to disguise because of the hideousness (in addition to the clarks). 

Friday.  Continue hobbling.  Limping.  Slow walking.  Continue taking ultracet until I become too tired to take anymore.  Then continue with monster doses of advil.  Nope, still hurts.

Saturday, still hurts, but getting slightly easier to walk.  It only hurts super bad if i have to move foot forward (i.e., accelerating/breaking in vehicle.  ouch.).

Earlier today.  Go grocery shopping.  Last store, Smith's.  Jackass bagger didn't pack reusable bags well AT ALL.  Leaning into car to adjust items in bag.  With no warning, trunk decides to close on back.  OW OW OW.  While trying to get trunk back up and writhe in pain, somehow, twist left ankle, formerly known as the not messed up ankle. 

Present.  Both ankles hurt.  I took an ultracet, but I think I just threw that up.  (oh, sorry, we weren't going to talk about that, but whatever.  It happened.) 

Future.  Tomorrow morning, I work from home for a couple of hours.  Then I go to the new podiatrist.  I can't remember his name, so we will call him Dr. Feet.  I am not psychic, but I'm pretty sure I know how this will go.  New Balance and Clarks will be mentioned.  I'll bring up my side job as a shoe whore.  He won't care.  He will say, no no, Jimmy Choo bad.  I will slap him silly.  He will say Clarks.  I will say no, you can't make me.  NO NO NO.  He will force me to go to their outlet store and buy hideous mock-a-sins (no clue how to even spell that).  I will be forced to leave my post as Hello Stiletto Chapter Leader because I own such hideous beasties.  My life on Vegas in Heels will be a lie.  A very beautiful, tax deductible lie.  My sculpture garden will provide more joy to Batgirl than to me.  Sad times indeed.

If nothing else, I do hope that he uses some of that cool flesh eating acid to remove some problem areas.  I probably should also mention that I do self-surgery on my ingrowns.  (oh, you didn't want to hear about those either?  sorry.)  And that I spend most of my mornings filing off the extra layer of feet that tries to grow overnight. 

So, I expect tomorrow will be a very bad/sad day for me.  I'll keep you posted because I know that you care.  Deeply.

It is 1:30 a.m. and I am not asleep. This is not good.

Okay, I took four prednisone this morning.  Shit was melting for a while and then my brain just didn't work.  Now my brain is on fire and it won't stop working SO THAT I CAN SLEEP. 

Please consider that I have taken the following:  klonipin, celexa, ambien (10 mg), nortriptylene (50 mg) and a tylenol PM (my normal nighty night cocktail).  On top of that, Dr. Garcia gave me the good cough syrup (phenergan or something like that).  So i added that to the mix.  NOT WORKING.  I am tired.  I have soooooo much to do at work tomorrow. 

I think i am strongly going to reconsider taking a provigil tomorrow morning.  (my wakey wakey cocktail, along with corvalen and vitamins.) 

Dammit.  I'm tired.  SLLEP, monkey mind, SLEEP.

I've had a really wonderful day. Very Happy!

It is always wonderful to see familiar faces and places after a long absence.  I speak to my parents regularly, but it is never as nice as when i can see them in person.  Today started with my father picking us up at the airport and then taking us to a tasty diner breakfast where The Boy ate scrapple for the first time.  (And he loved it.)  Quick visit to my grandparents, which was wonderful and it was great to see my grandmother in such good spirits after being recently sick.

Quick nap at my brothers.  We stopped for a short visit to see my mom at work before going to my eyebrow appointment.  Stopped at my favorite shoe store in all the land (MJM).  Then, we went to get dinner at Deep Blue, and had an amazing seafood dinner. 

Then went and had frozen custard for dessert with my family.  A really great day. 

More fun planned for tomorrow.  Yay.  I love this kind of trip.  Lots of fun stuff to do, but also to reconnect with my family and that is hugely important. 

Stupid Stupid Stupid

Dear You Guys,

It is getting late.  I am very tired.  In order to sleep, I need a couple of things. 

Stomach, I need you to stop churning and being upset over who knows what.  Get over it and let me rest.

Throat, coughing is so two weeks ago.  Give it a break and let the nyquil woo you to slumber.

Ear, you've been begging for attention for  two days.  Well, here it is.  WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?  Of all the body parts, you are usually pretty well behaved (except for your ever present attached lobes, which no one else ever has but me).  But now you are all swollen and unable to hear without that horrific shrill noise.  What sort of attention is it that you are after?  because frankly, i have nothing positive to say to you, Ear.  Get over this. 

I am sick of you three.  Let me sleep for the love of all things holy.  LET ME SLEEP. 

With Hate,
Danielle

A Mathematical type rendering of my day

me+waking=ouch! my throat hurts.

me+eating breakfast=ew! vomiting strawberries hurts. 

oatmeal+bananas=not so painful to vomit.

me+morning commute=coughcoughcoughcoughcough <groan>

me+interaction with co-workers=you're gross, get out before you make us sick.

me+office lunch=potentially make ass out of self but can't be sure.  too groggy to be certain.

me+legal work=ouchouchouch.  brain hurts too much to think complex legal thoughts.

me+consider resting head on deak while at work=time to go home

me+driving home=maybe not safe, but i didn't even look at the internet on my phone at the lights, so i was super careful.

me+arriving home=text to The Boy regarding sorry that he will soon be a widower because my death is clearly imminent.

me+bored at home with inability to do anything worthwhile=text to The Boy that it's okay because I have my kitties here to tend to me in my final hours.

Me+mucinex=relationship started out strong, but has fizzled and left enormous congestion and pain.

me+wheel of Fortune=perfect no matter what state my heath is in.

me+nonstop coughing, complaining, aches, fever, chills and whining = The Boy probably wants to scream at me to stop but am too delicate to face such critique. 

Me=going to take some more otc remedies and hope for the best.  i need to get better and shit.  this is annoying. 

i am thirty one.  this is way too much for a normal person to get sick.  although this feels flu like or strep like.  or maybe bronchitis like.  (I'm a pretty good non-licensed dr, yo.)  it just needs to self-heal so that i can resume being the quirky girl in the office who likes to color code.

I want to go back to being danielle, yeah, she's a dork and just wants to tab stuff, but OH have you ever seen her sort skittles.   instead of danielle's coming, everyone put on their masks or she'll get you too!!!!!

with much love

Dear Friends,

I know i seem to have dropped off the face of the earth recently.  There's been so much going on.  Move.  Medical treatments.  Life.  That whole thing.  I've been running around like a crazy (ok, crazier) person lately and I feel like i am very out of touch with so many people.  My inbox fills and then I don't get a chance to go through and answer everything for a few weeks.  I am trying to get back into the habit of responding more quickly.  But by the time i get home from work around 7, I have no interest in being on the computer. 

Tonight, I can't sleep.  So I was reading Ask Pal.  Oh, my dear wonderful friends, you made me cry again, two years later when I read the comments on the last post.  I am very blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life.  I love all of you so much!  Thanks for always being there for me.   I'll try to start posting more regularly soon.  As always, trying to work the life/work balance. 

I hope everyone is doing well.  I know we've all had a lot going on lately.  I hope that some of the bad times some have recently gone through will soon be past. 

Thanks to all of my wonderful friends.  I'm so lucky to have you in my life!

Danielle

HEY!

Dear Readers,

Me, you and Ambien haven't talked in a while, right?  So, let's have a go at this.  I don't have a specific topic in mind, so I am just going to tell you a few random thoughts before I go to bed.  Okay?  Super.

My cat, Tiki, is a rad son of a bitch, as you can see here.

My fiance is also a rad son of bitch, as seen here.

My other cat is not very photogenic.  Not seen here because he totally isn't photogenic with all of the eye squinting.  I'll figure out a way to photograph him.

I am starting to get sleepy, so I will bid you goodnight.

A special delivery

Today, home with a stomach ailment of unknown origin, I strolled downstairs around the noon hour.  I sat my ass down in the kitchen chair and began to entertain self with the inner net searches for ruby engagement rings.  As I'm sitting there, the doorbell rings.  Who could it be?  I'm not expecting to receive visitors.  I am sickly and not dressed properly.  I waited a proper amount of time and then walked over to peer out of the window to see what might have happened. 

Then I spied with my little eye a box addressed to me!  From my parents!  Not even during tomato season!! 

I hurried outside to get the box and ran in, stomach goblin along for the ride, and opened the box.

Ah, dear readers, it seems that Easter came early this year.  Mmmmm, hmmmm.  But in the typical fashion of my family, there were no cadbury eggs.  no hollow bunny to decapitate.  instead, i received the following items:

1. A talking greeting card.  Greg Brady.  Telling me that I'm totally groovy.  I KNOW.
2. One of those wire toy game things (look, you'd know it if you saw it) with an easter bunny.
3. A princess accessory set, tiara included. 
4. A slutty easter bunny.

What's that?  You want to hear more about the slutty bunny?  OKAY.

Well, she has a skinny model bunny body.  That part of the bunny is painted sparkly gold.  She's wearing a pink dress, strapless glitter bodice and pink feather balloon skirt.  Around her neck, she's wearing a purple bow type thing.  A scarf, perhaps?  On her head, she donned a white feather hat of the style one might wear at a fancy British wedding.  Indeed, she's a slutty easter bunny.  As I do not know what to do with her, I'm going to initiate a game of slutty bunny tag with the good folks at my office. 

The Inner Net

I don't even know what the Nestle Treasure Quest is, but that's how people seem to be getting to this blog.  Based on the searches, I know it is lame and/or sucks. 

Also, I don't know how to make the kitten stop scratching.  He won't.  He attacks our furniture. 

If you searched whoretastic, you're probably in the right place.  Except that it might not mean what you were hoping for. 

For the person looking for Kate Spade shoes - if you find my peacock shoes, pleaselemmeknowthanks. 

Sweet, sweet sleep

WWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY AM I NOT ASLEEP???????????

The Tikinator Flosses

So, after watching Monster-in-Law (more on that tomorrow when I'm rested and not loopy from the pills), I came upstairs to go to bed.  Teeks likes to join me in the bathroom to observe the nightly rituals.  He is usually kind enough to sit on my back while i go through the Proactiv routine.  Then he gets a drink from his fountain (i.e., faucet).  I got the floss out of the medicine cabinet and he was way interested.

Seemed  like a logical step to give the cat a piece of floss and help him floss his teeth.  he was actually pretty good about the whole thing.  I think he may have liked the minty flavor.  Perhaps now we will both floss nightly.  If only I could get Kevin in there too.  It will be a married couple and their feline nudist.  Exactly the marketing campaign that Oral B should want.  Except that we use the acme brand that my dad gave me a while ago...

Anyways.  Nighty night.