Play set

I've been wanting a play set for Audrey that she can use, one with a swing and a slide. I thought maybe Santa Claus could bring it, but then I decided that Santa couldn't afford it. Yikes. Those things are expensive.

My mom heard about a family whose house was being foreclosed, and they were selling lots of stuff. They were asking $75 for a play set. My mom bought it, sight unseen, mainly because she knew the family needed help.

And wow...was it ever dirty. Their back yard had a lot of good 'ole red Southern mud, and it showed. But my step-dad and Mom cleaned it up, and it looks pretty great. See?



I did something stupid after they brought it here, though. I climbed to the top, went through the hole up there, and then proceeded down the slide with Audrey. Now, that might not be a big deal for a normal person, but for me? Major mistake. My muscles just can't handle that. When we got to the slide, I realized something...my hips weren't going to fit. So I had to angle myself to the side so we could get down. Needless to say, after a crash landing at the bottom, I was seriously hurting.

It's just that, even after all these years, I sometimes can't get over my physical limitations. If I have a day when I'm feeling good, I'll end up doing something stupid like that and mess myself up again. Before the fibro, I was fairly athletic and would try just about anything. I was in excellent shape from Pilates and yoga. Now? I can't even make it through a prenatal yoga video.

Well, enough self-pity. David's mom and grandmother came over to visit yesterday, and they were playing outside with Audrey. His grandmother said, "Does Audrey have a friend that can come over and play with her?"

I immediately got defensive. I answered, "No, ma'am." Then she went on and on about what a shame that was, that David's mom had lots of friends to play with when she was growing up.

I wanted to say, "Listen up. There are days when I've struggled to get out of bed and take care of Audrey. I can't take her anywhere by myself without considerable pain. Do you think I have the energy to troll the neighborhood for friends?" I was soooo angry. I've feared that my fibro will isolate her from kids her own age, and here was someone pointing that out to me.

Aargh. She may not have meant it that way, but it was like a kick to my gut.

Good news!

I went back to see my homeopathic doctor last Thursday, to see how I'm doing and if any supplements needed to be changed. I also got back a couple of "foods"...COFFEE, DARK CHOCOLATE, and stevia. I was so excited!

When we got home, David made some coffee for me. I couldn't use my normal creamer because of dietary restrictions, so the coffee was...not so good. I was so disappointed. I've been waiting for two months to get it back. Yesterday, though, I made some more and added lots of milk, and it was yummy. I'm trying to be thankful, even though I'm still banned from the wonderful fall coffee concoctions at Starbucks. We're at Target every week, and the signs at Starbucks mock me. But I will be strong.

I was also excited about getting dark chocolate back, but curiously, I haven't had any as of yet. I'm allowed to have one small piece every day, and truthfully, I'm afraid to try it. I think I'm going to go nuts and eat every last one in the bag, because dark chocolate is one of my favorite things.

During this detox, I think my taste buds have changed somewhat. Like I said, my second try at coffee was successful, but I have to say, I'm still loving the green tea. In fact, I just finished my second cup and I haven't had any coffee yet. Weird.

As far as the rest of the appointment, Dr. P says I'm right on schedule for where I should be. We got to see my blood again, and you could see the fungus and yeast die-off in my blood. It was disgusting. I guess I was thinking that the stuff would die off and be eliminated almost immediately. Yep, I was very wrong about that. Since I've had these problems for so many years, it's going to take a while for it to go away. We did see some healthy new red blood cells, which have a kind of halo around them. Very encouraging.

I was a little bummed because I thought my detox would be over, that I'd now be taking supplements that are supposed to "build me up". Though it's true that I'm taking a couple of things for that purpose, I'm still very much in the detox phase. And I'm still in lots of pain sometimes.

However, my blood and urine results are looking good, and things seem to be headed in the right direction. I even got a smiley-face sticker on my lab results (yes, this pleased the teacher in me:)

So I've got to be patient. Which is not, by the way, my strong suit.

Detox

Three weeks ago, I decided to go to a doctor about my fibro. Of course, I've been to many doctors, but this one is not an MD. I'm so very sick of the doctors who "treat" my fibro. My current one walks in, pushes my pressure points, says, "You're really hurting, huh?" Then she writes a prescription.



But Dr. P is different; she has a doctorate in microbiology. She's extremely expensive and isn't covered by insurance, but I'm desperate here.

She's a holistic doctor, and she tries to get to the cause of your illness, not just treat the symptoms. So, I'm in the middle of a detox phase, which will last a couple of months.

Dr. P checked my food sensitivities, and I'm now on a restricted diet. I can't have chocolate, coffee, sugar, and wheat. But I am so determined to get better that I'd probably do anything at this point.

She found candida albicans and fungus in my blood. We looked at my blood, and she showed me my red blood cells. They're supposed to be dancing around, but mine were all clumped up and barely moving. I could even see how the fungus was killing my white blood cells (not a pretty sight). I'm anemic, dehydrated, and I have plaque building in my arteries. My blood vessels are thinning, which scared me, since my dad had several brain aneurysms, and my grandmother had several strokes.

There were also things that looked like shards of glass. I can't remember what she said they were (it was a three-hour appointment, and my brain was spinning with all the information). Anyway, Dr. P said those shards of glass are digging into my muscles, which is what causes my pain.

It was very interesting to see what's going on in my blood. And now I'm taking tons of pills every day, like digestive enzymes, and I'm drinking "cocktails" of homeopathic liquids. It requires a lot of discipline. But dare I say it...I'm feeling better. I don't want to jinx it, but there it is.

After this initial phase of detox, Dr. P will work on building my immune system back up, which will mean more pills, and more money. But hey, I might get some of my food back!

Another interesting tidbit is that my neurological functioning is only at 60%, while the average person is performing at 80%. Maybe that explains my fibrofog. Who knows? I'm definitely feeling more clear-headed.

I'm hesitantly hopeful and very glad I finally went to see her. I'm in Stage 3 fibro, which is one step above Stage 4, which basically means you're bedridden. And that CANNOT happen to me.

Vacation

So, we're back from our trip to the beach. Unfortunately, I was feeling bad (an understatement) most of the time, which really ticked me off. But ultimately, it was a good trip because Audrey had a great time.

From our balcony, you could see all the pools and the lazy river outside. Audrey loved being out there and looking at all the people. She's a people-watcher like me!





Don't you love her little bear chair?

I was thrilled to get this pic so I could show it to Mom, since she doesn't think Audrey looks like me. After she got the pic, several of her co-workers said we looked alike. Take that, Mom!



Audrey "rediscovered" the ocean and beach, since I'm thinking she doesn't remember much from our trip a year ago. She LOVED the sand and water, which made me so happy. She would pull wet sand up her legs and just rub it in. Nature's exfoliator, right?

We went to the aquarium, where she came face-to-face with a mini crocodile



and Daddy went "swimming" in a fish tank.



That's the best pic I could get because there was a terrible glare. And I was laughing so hard, I couldn't figure out how to get rid of it! He really had to manuever to get up there!

Even though fibro totally kicked my butt while we were there, I'm glad we got a chance to go, especially for Audrey. Here's to hoping I feel good for our next trip in August!

(Sorry for the huge pics, but I don't have the energy to resize them).

This day is...

...rough, to say the least. I was awakened by David around the usual time, just as he was getting ready to leave for work (or so I thought). He said, "Do you know how to work the coffeemaker?"

To be fair, he is not an idiot. My old coffeemaker died on Sunday morning, so my mom brought over an extra one. Since she keeps everything, I figured she might have one.
I said no, I didn't. I mean, I don't know anything that early, not even my shoe size.

Then I heard Audrey. I looked at him, and he said, "I went to close the door to her room and she stood up and said, 'Hey, Daddy'". So she's in the highchair." Aaarrrggghhh.

Two things are going through my head. Number one, I'm not getting any time to myself this morning. I usually get up when David leaves, and I normally have time for a cup of coffee and some time on the Internet before Audrey wakes up.

Number two, THERE'S NO COFFEE. I am not a morning person. To say the least. I really don't want to talk to anyone unless I've had a cup of coffee. Part of it is genetic, since I remember being that way in high school. A big part of it is the fibro, though. People with fibro wake up feeling stiff and sore, and it can last for 1-3 hours or more.

Anyway, even though David was seriously late to work (and a class of high school kids waits for no one), he quickly figured out the coffeemaker and started it for me. You see, he knows me very well.




Thankfully, Audrey was in a great mood, grinning like the cat who ate the canary because her daddy was home. She's been really good all day. She's such a sweetheart when she wants to be:)



I've just been feeling awful for the last few days. REALLY awful. I even had to call my mom for help with Audrey yesterday, because I seriously felt like I couldn't move, like I had the flu. I hate having to ask for her help, since she has my nieces every other weekend and works full-time, but I had to. David is going to school full-time for his Masters degree, and he had tons of work to do yesterday.

Thankfully, I'm getting a therapeutic massage tonight. I cannot wait. If I can only find the strength to drive an hour round-trip to get it.

Craziness

I had my physical yesterday...yuck. Matt and Audrey both came with me, since the doctor's office is midway between our house and Matt's school. The whole time we were there, all Matt could talk about was having another baby. And let me tell you, that is VERY strange.

I mean, up until a couple of days ago, if someone asked us if we were going to have a second baby, he would immediately say, "Oh no. One is just perfect for us", or something to that effect. Then suddenly, he just changes his mind. He starts talking about the gender-neutral things we have for a baby, where the baby would sleep...well, you get the picture. This was obviously not a passing thought for him.

All I can think is, my health. How in the world would I take care of two children? I'm not too worried about how the pregnancy would go, since I had no fibro symptoms when I was pregnant with Audrey. But seriously? I can barely take Audrey anywhere by myself, and what would happened if I had another?

We talked to the doctor about it, and he said it would be fine, but we should decide soon, since I'm quickly approaching the dreaded 40 in December. He spoke of birth defects, trouble getting pregnant, etc. Which of course I already knew, having researched all that last time.

Ah...but the more Matt talked about it, the more I could picture it. He's even decided when we should get pregnant. It's crazy, and he's crazy. It is fun to think about what a second child would look and act like, though.

Especially when we have this little cutie running around...



Again, I say the idea is nuts. I think it's normal to want another baby when your first one is turning into more of a little girl than a baby. Right?

Such Sorrow

I'm going to a funeral tomorrow. I just went to one a couple of weeks ago; it was for my mom's long-time neighbor (over 40 years), Margaret, who died of cancer. That was bad enough.

Then on Monday morning, a glorious, no-clouds-in-the-sky kind of day, her husband, Carl, died in a car accident. He was having problems with insomnia since his wife's death. They believe he fell asleep at the wheel, ironically on the way to the doctor's office, whom he was going to see about the insomnia. Carl hit another car head-on; thankfully, the woman in the other car was okay.

I'm still in shock over this. I've known them my whole life, and I used to be in and out of their house all the time, playing with their daughters. They have three, and they're completely devastated by their loss. I can't even imagine how they must feel.

That sends my mind into dark places, places I don't want to visit. Such as, what if that happened with Matt and me? Who would Audrey have to lean on? We've only planned on having one child, mainly due to my health, but finances are an issue, too. I know she'd have her cousins, but no siblings to help her through it.

So, in a way, I wish we could have another baby. Not just for that reason, but because...well, just because I want to. The message boards I frequent have women with children the age of Audrey, and they're already pregnant with their second baby. And it makes me want another sometimes, really bad.

Damn this fibromyalgia!

But I'm thankful for the wonderful, healthy child we have.

Such a klutz

At the end of yesterday's post, I wrote about hitting my shins when I ran into the ottoman. Let me tell you, it hurt VERY BADLY. It's a soft ottoman, but around the top edges, there are some hard places that give structure to it, of course. Ouch.

It all started with a bump to Audrey's head on Tuesday night. I was sitting on the floor right beside her, and she hit her forehead, hard, on the cedar chest. I felt so guilty about it, especially when I saw the knot that rose up almost immediately. I know I shouldn't feel guilty, but it's so hard not to. I know there's going to be lots of times that she's going to hit her head, especially when she starts walking, but I always think, "I should have prevented that."

She screamed and screamed, which is unusual. Since she started pulling up recently, we've said "Oopsie!" every time she falls, and she usually just smiles. I know the parents' reaction affects the way the baby handles it, so we try to remain calm.

We checked the dilation of her pupils, which I insist on doing every time she has a hard hit to the head. Yes, I'm paranoid. My dad had several brain aneurysms in his lifetime, and I'm all too aware of how brain injuries work.

The worst part was, it was almost bedtime. That means we couldn't really check on her, watch her behavior, to see how she was. Matt did her usual nighttime routine, but she still wouldn't go to sleep. She just screamed. Which is highly unusual, especially since we successfully completed sleep training a few months ago.

It turns out she was fine, but we got her up anyway; I wanted to check her pupils again. I know, the OCD was rearing its ugly head. I had her in my arms, screaming, and I practically ran to the bedroom to get the flashlight. Wham! Hit the front of my shins on the ottoman.

Matt and I are trying to watch our language now, since we don't want little Audrey to start cursing while she's at, say, the church nursery on Sunday. But I was in so much pain that I let several terribly unflattering words fly from my mouth.

Last night, I am not exaggerating when I say I could hardly walk, and I have two big bruises on my shins. And it irritates me to no end. Because ever since I was diagnosed with FMS, I've become clumsy. I knock things over, drop things, fall and hit my head...the list is endless. Part of FMS has to do with loss of muscle control. When it was really bad, I could be standing there in the kitchen, holding a glass, and I would just drop it. With no idea how it happened. Poor Matt has had to clean up so many spills in the last few years, bless his heart, usually with me crying and saying, "I'm so sorry!"

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I feel like such an idiot. As a child, I was not uncoordinated. I played church basketball and softball, and I probably would have played high school softball if I hadn't worked so much. So this loss of muscle control is tough.

At least it's gotten better in the last few months. Even though you'd never know it by looking at my shins.

Football and salad and EPIC FAIL

Thursday night, Matt had to shoot a football game at the middle school where we both used to teach. He's doing all the sports shots for them, which is such a relief because we need the extra money.

I was excited because I wanted to take Audrey to her first football game. Matt and I love football, and I hope she does, too.

Audrey had a great time, and I wish I had a picture of her enjoying everything. She loves to look at people, so her head was constantly swiveling all over the place. There could easily have been a picture, since I brought the camera...except for the fact that I was so very miserable.


I can't believe how hot it was. It was BOILING. I don't sweat very much, not at all. It must be genetic, because my brother doesn't, either. When I used to work out at the gym, friends would comment about it. Like my friend Lynn, who would run on the treadmill next to me. Her sweat would be flying everywhere, even hitting me on the bicycle next to her!

But on Thursday, I was sweating in places I'd forgotten I have. The game started at 5:00, so even though weather.com said it was be 91, I thought it would be bearable. Not!

I made it through an hour, which is amazing in itself. Matt was down on the field, so I called him to say I couldn't take it anymore. When I got up from my chair, my back was sweating. My back! I don't think it's ever sweated before, except maybe when I lived in Charleston, where the humidity is so bad it will take your breath away.

It was such a relief to get in the car and blast the air conditioning. It was 6 pm, and it was still 93 degrees. And that's not even taking into account the humidity. Audrey is hot-natured, but she was fine because she had the shade on her stroller to protect her, thank goodness.

I was so disoriented from the heat. That's one thing about FMS...the heat affects me in ways it never did before. It literally feels as if the life is being sucked out of me. I can almost picture the energy leaving my body when I walk out into extreme heat.

Since it was already late, I stopped by Chik-fil-A to get one of my favorite salads, the Chargrilled Fruit Salad.

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Doesn't it look yummy? Yeah, well, it doesn't look so great when it's dumped all over your leather couch. You read that right. I was so shaky and drained by the time I got Audrey to bed and finally had time to eat, that I dumped it everywhere.

Aaaaahhhhhhh...we need to move. This heat is KILLING me. I thought I was hot last year when I was pregnant, but please. This summer is one of the hottest on record, and I am over it already!

I couldn't be a baby

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I HATE shopping. Unless I'm alone, or with Matt. Or shopping online.

On Sunday, Mom, Michael, Matt, Audrey, and I went to Toys R Us to get some ideas for Audrey's birthmas. That's what I call it, since she was born in December. It's much easier to say, trust me.

I'm not the biggest fan of shopping in the first place, mostly because of FMS. I have a lot of environmental sensitivities, and the smells from the new merchandise make me feel a little loopy. I get light-headed, easily confused, and to top it all of...EXTREMELY irritable. So, anyone want to go shopping with me?

I much prefer shopping online, which my mom does not understand. But how could she not? I can sit here on my comfortable reclining couch, peruse items at my leisure, and even read reviews from people who've bought the product.

In the store? Oh no. Mom is always two or three aisles in front of me, telling me to look at whatever new treasure she's found. And then, I have to trot over there and check it out. Does she stay with me to see what I'm looking at? Nope. And I move a lot slower than she does, so that compounds the problem.

On Sunday, it was so much worse. Because I had Mom calling out for me, and then I had Matt doing the same thing, usually at the same time. Utter chaos! I felt like I was teaching again, with five kids calling my name over and over again. Seriously, I began to hate the sound of my name:)

So, as often happens in these situation, I became "unplugged". I had to sit down, and I had to do it RIGHT THEN. And Toys R Us has nowhere to sit, and I mean nowhere. I've started to notice that a lot of stores don't, and I think it's so rude. I guess they don't want people hanging out, not buying anything, but some people have health problems and need a rest!

Mom was asking me, "Where are you going to sit? I don't see any place to sit!" And then I must have gotten a steely look in my eye, because she immediately backed off. I can't take all her questions, even though I know she's concerned, when I'm feeling this badly. I snapped at her and said, "I have to sit. NOW."

I felt bad about it later and apologized, but I have to pay attention to my body. If it says stop, I have to stop. If I don't, I will most certainly pay for it later.

So, getting back to the title of this post, Matt found a wheelchair cart for me. I hate having to use these, but I had no choice. It was either that or leave.

And now I know why there are so many babies screaming in stores. Because they're bored! You're at the mercy of whoever's pushing you, and you can't look at what you want. It's so frustrating. I understand that disabled people have to endure this every day, and it has to be beyond horrible.

Honestly, Audrey was handling it much better than I was. She just kicked back and propped a leg up on her stroller and chilled out. Not me. I was getting so annoyed; Matt was bumping into everything (not his fault, you know how they cram as much as they can in stores), and I couldn't see anything above eye level. Someone would call out, "Hey, look at this, Emily!" And I would say, " I can't."

So, I couldn't be a baby again. Not that it's even possible, but still. And I have a new appreciation for people who are in wheelchairs permanently. They're horribly uncomfortable, for one, and for another, you totally lose your independence, unless you can wheel yourself around. Or if you have one of those cool scooter things.

I'm thankful today that, even though I hurt every day, I'm not in a wheelchair. I feel as if I need to do something for people who are, advocate for them in some way. I was in their shoes for a short period of time, and I did not like it.

Labor Day Weekend

This weekend was fabulous. I probably wouldn't change one thing about it.

Okay, I might change Nichole's meltdown on Sunday, but hey, if that's the worst thing that happens...

On Saturday, we finally took Audrey downtown to the park for a picnic. I guess it wasn't much of a picnic, though; Matt had his NutriSystem food, I had my Wendy's salad, and Audrey had a bottle. Oh well, we still ate together, right?

We spread out a blanket under some trees, with a fantastic view of the waterfall, and just hung out. IT WAS BLISS. I love being outside...it just makes me feel better, even though it does NOT make my allergies happy. But I was willing to sacrifice.

We've been wanting to take Audrey downtown for a while, but it's just been too darn hot. Heat indexes of over 100 do not equal a fun day in the park. Not for my hot-natured child (and husband). So it was such a relief to get outside and "enjoy the nature", as Nichole says.

Everyone was enchanted by Audrey. She'll smile at anyone, and her smile lights up her face like Christmas. People can't help but come closer, almost as if they're drawn to her. And she was certainly in her element on Saturday.



She really loves dogs, and there were two women in front of us who had a cute one. They asked if he (she?) could come over and "meet" her, and I told them to go ahead. Audrey started giggling like mad, and everybody was laughing and smiling. It seemed like everyone we saw was having a great time, and I can't even explain how much I enjoyed it. I'm stuck in the house WAY too much these days.

On Sunday, we went to my parents' house, and we got to see Nichole and Elizabeth. We had the grand idea to bring Scrabble, since Elizabeth loves playing games. Well, I hate to say it, but Elizabeth (9 years old) beat Matt and me at Scrabble. And she'd never played the game before. Yes, she's a genius.

Matt argues that he technically won, and that may be true, but it's only because Elizabeth got bored at the end and quit the game to go outside and play. Wow. Talk about humility. I mean, I have a degree in English. You would think I could beat a nine-year-old at Scrabble. But you would be wrong.

We spent Monday with Matt's family; they came over here, since it's so much easier for Audrey to get good naps in her own crib. We ate outside, since the weather was still cooperating. Lovely! However, I got "unplugged" (my term for when FMS gets the best of me) and I had to lie down for the rest of the afternoon. This is what I look like when FMS catches up with me. Not a pretty sight.

Unplugged

At least Matt had plenty of help with the baby. I guess all the activities of the weekend finally caught up with me.

I can't be too bitter about it, though, since not too long ago, I wouldn't have been able to go to the park at all because of the walking involved.

Like I said, there was only one scene when Nichole rediscovered her love for Webkinz (after going under Audrey's account and playing with her giraffe) and decided she must have one THAT DAY. I talked to her, though, and she was placated when I agreed to paint window sun-catchers with her. I love doing crafts, so believe me, it wasn't a sacrifice.

I love that the weather was cooler, but we're back up to past 90 for the rest of this week. That's okay. I've gotten a glimpse of fall, and me likey.

Finally, I got up the courage...

to contact our local Mom's group. I've been debating this for a while, ever since I first learned about it in the spring. Of course, I was feeling MUCH worse then, and it would have been impossible to go anywhere with Audrey by myself. Those infant carriers weigh a ton.

I was about to lose my mind by the time Matt got out of school for the summer. But then the summer was heavenly. We went somewhere almost every day, whether it was just a Target run, since Matt is the type who has to get out of the house. I'm not that way...I've been know to not leave the house for days and be perfectly happy, but even I was reaching my limits before summer.

The thing is, I'm old. Not really, but I'm older than the average first-time mom (38). All my friends' kids are older, much older...some are in middle school, which really makes me feel ancient. So I have no one to go through these first years with, only people who have left those years far behind.

And now, Matt's back to teaching. And I'm back to where I was, except I'm feeling much better these days (as compared to then, anyway). Another plus is that Audrey can now ride in the Peg, so I don't have to bother with the obnoxiously heavy infant carrier.

So, I took the plunge. And I got a really nice email from the head of the "Sunshine" committee, telling me about some things that were coming up. There's an event at the library next week, and she said she'd be there with some friends, and that she'd even email the day before and tell me what she'd be wearing so I could find her. Wow.

Now, I've never been much of a joiner. In fact, I've avoided joining much of anything, except for choir, since I was young. I'm not sure why, but I'm a bit shy. People who know me might not believe that, and you probably wouldn't if you met me for the first time. For example, one of Matt's friends from out-of-town (a girl) found me to be "intimidating" when she saw me at my wedding. Who's intimidating on her wedding day? Is that how I look here?



If that's what she thought, she should have seen me when I was in the classroom;)

I'll have to let you know how it goes. I'm proud of myself for reaching out, though. I have zero friends around here who stay-at-home, and I could use some outings for Audrey and me. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I don't chicken out at the last minute. Because I'm very likely to do just that.

Just for one day

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You know what I wish? I wish that everyone who doesn't understand my FMS, who thinks it's a crock, could have it for just one day. From the people at Wal Mart who give me the side-eye for walking too slow, to my doctors who don't seem to care and just throw prescriptions at me, to the people closest to me, who seem to "forget" about it. The people who say they understand, but they really don't. The only person I would exclude from this list is Matt, because he understands me more than anyone else on earth. He's been through this whole journey with me, from diagnosis to now.

You know, if I only had one arm, people would look at me a lot differently. They would actually "see" my disability. But since people can't see it, they often assume it's not there. So, I didn't walk fast enough across the parking lot for you, guy in the redneck truck? Bite me. I can barely walk at all today. So, I'm pushing my cart more slowly than you'd like? That's because my arms are killing me, like I've been boxing for an hour.

So take it, please take it from me for a day. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy (and you know who you are) for the rest of their life, but just for a day, understand why I can't do the things that "normal" people can do.

Then you'll understand why I give you the side-eye right back. And why I don't explain why I can't do certain things anymore, because you wouldn't understand anyway.

So much pain

I feel as if someone has taken a baseball bat to my lower back. And not just anyone, but a professional baseball player. Good grief.

My lower back always hurts. ALWAYS. It's just a question of how much it hurts from day to day. On Friday, my massage therapist worked on that area almost exclusively. I thought, I am going to have an awesome weekend! My niece was coming over to spend the night, and I was very excited. She's so good with Audrey. Here they are, Audrey and Elizabeth:



Anyway, I was wrong about the weekend. I was in so much pain that, when Matt suggested we rent a movie, I knew there was NO WAY I'd be able to sit on the couch and watch it. So we all piled in the bed together, which worked. But you know it's bad when you can't even sit on a reclining couch without major pain.

I dragged myself to church yesterday, and we sat in the privacy room, since I'm not comfortable leaving Audrey in the nursery yet. We sat in the congregation last time, but she was Chatty McChatterstein yesterday, and that wasn't happening. It was absolutely frigid in that room; even Matt was cold, and he is the most hot-natured person I know. Audrey's usually warm, too, but her hands and feet were icy. Not to mention the fact that we couldn't hear a word that was being said...something wrong with the speaker in there. I swear, it was probably 55 degrees. So, we left. Another fail.

Today, we had to go to Wal Mart to get a few things, especially baby-proofing items. Audrey's not crawling yet, but I wanted to go ahead and get them, since Matt is going back to work on Thursday. Another fail. We were there for over an hour, and I felt like I was going to have to be carted out on a stretcher. MY BACK WAS KILLING ME.

I am so ticked off. I can't even do a simple trip to Wal Mart without nearly keeling over. So, so, so sick of this. I told Matt on the way home that sometimes I wish I was dead, just so I wouldn't have to experience the pain. I know that's awful, but when you live with pain each and every day, it gets to be too much at times.

Don't know what I'm going to do on Thursday without Matt's help. I couldn't be more discouraged about my health right now.

Oh, Merry Maids...

I mentioned last week, in my Thankful on Thursday post, that we're finally able to get a service to come out and clean our house once a month. I can't do housework because of FMS. That's right; I actually have a prescription that says "No housework allowed".

Okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. But my rheumatologist told me that vacuuming is the worst thing I could do, as far as cleaning goes. Which figures, since that's really the only cleaning task I don't mind doing. That and laundry. But I can't dust, either, because of my leg weakness. And I get sore just thinking about scrubbing the bathtub. Please. They'd find me facedown in the tub, covered with Comet and dripping with Tilex. It would definitely make the 5 o'clock news.

I'll end my pity party here, but I just wanted to explain why we need this. Because I'm embarrassed that I can't clean my own house. I used to pride myself on it.

Yesterday, our very enthusiastic-sounding Merry Maids came out. We were told at the initial consultation that the first visit is a deep-cleaning, including...wait for it...baseboards, ceiling fans, windowsills, blinds. I nearly had an orgasm just hearing that. I swear.

We left while they were there, mostly because I'm allergic to dust and didn't need to inhale all that junk. Because let me tell you, practically none of those things mentioned above have been cleaned since Matt moved into this house.

The deep-cleaning was supposed to last about 3 hours. They called me less than an hour and a half after they arrived, saying they were finished. Say what? They would've needed 10 people, working at full speed, to do everything they promised in that amount of time. I instantly felt a sense of dread.

Matt and I were still being positive about it (him more than me, of course). He spoke of the smell that might greet us as we walked through the door. Would it be cinnamon? Vanilla?

Nope, it was more like the smell of disappointment. I went in first, and what did I see? Let's just say I wasn't too merry when I saw everything that hadn't even been touched, much less deep-cleaned. Audrey could've done a better job. So Merry Maids=FAIL.


https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdTqDwfKMqUPUlfBYx7cRiHgf1A6HTt8S5cyHqDQ4B90V1XU0GKvqAuly1tY0a_C0IIsDSb5ZXDaEb7d0v0CKIMI7bOjanVH6LqSPn0d5gEV53zjDDF8_v34ZB1Vol2wDP9ETWtSXhqCOl/s1600/fail2.jpg

I was so mad. I walked around the house for the rest of the night, mumbling to myself and running my finger over surfaces to see what was dirty. Even Matt noticed what wasn't done. I got so worked up that I was angry at myself for being so angry.

They didn't clean the ceiling fans, the baseboards, or anything that was promised in the deep-clean (oh, I'm sorry, they did clean the blinds. Yeah, just one side of them. The side facing out). Surfaces were dusted, but nothing actually sitting ON TOP OF the surfaces were touched. I took a post-it note off our computer monitor where I had taped it, and a big plume of dust filled the air.

I called MM this morning to give them a piece of my mind. But D, the guy who answered the phone, was so damn merry that I couldn't even work up a decent indignant voice. He said they'd be out today to clean it again, along with a supervisor to make sure that it happened. D said to make a list of what needed to be cleaned, which consisted of about 15 items.

So, as much as it pains me, I now have to give props to MM's customer service. But I'm still not sure about their cleaning; guess I'll see about that later today.

I think I'll take my toothbrush with me, though. I've heard horror stories about what maids do when they feel they've been wronged. And believe me, it's worse than a waiter spitting in your food.

Thankful

I can never remember to do "Thankful on Thursdays" posts, which has a great ring to it, you have to admit. I'm really, really going to try to remember this Thursday, but I need to do it today as well. Why? Well, because my SIL has officially crossed the line. She has allowed my nieces to be in danger, which I'll explain later when my anger has subsided somewhat.

Suffice it to say, my 7 and 9-year-old nieces now know about sex and rape. No, they weren't hurt, thank God. But their innocence and sense of safety has been lost, gone forever. So on this Sunday morning, I need to remember the things that are good in my life and not focus on what's happened. So here goes. I'm thankful for:

1. Audrey, my beautiful baby who I pray will not lose her innocence for a long, loooooong time.



2. Matt. When I've been "unplugged" due to FMS, he takes care of my every need. Without complaint, without resentment.



3. my parents, who've taken my brother into their home while he recovers. And my nieces, every other weekend (at least, usually more), even though they both work full-time.

4. good friends. I had lost touch with a couple of great people, and we're now planning to get our families together for lunch next weekend. It will be a blast!

5. my new book, which arrived in the mail yesterday:


http://www.jacobteitelbaum.com/media_downloads/book_cover_from_fatigued_to_fantastic.jpg


It's about FMS, and I can't wait to read it. Yes, I know it has a cheesy title, but who cares if it helps?

Have a blessed Sunday.

The search for the Holy Grail

Well, we had to take Audrey back to the doctor again yesterday. That makes THREE visits in 8 days, including the first one where she caught the damn thing.

When Matt was changing her yesterday, he noticed blood in her diarrhea. Great. Like that can ever be a good thing.

He called me in there to check it out, just to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Nope, it was definitely blood. After a mini panic attack on my part, during which Matt called the doctor, we got an appointment at 1:30. TWO HOURS AWAY.

I did some deep breathing, took lots of Rescue Remedy (tell you about that later), and messed around on the Bump to distract myself. I also posted about it, and a couple of very nice Bumpies assured me that it was probably nothing serious, maybe an anal fissure from all the diarrhea (I know, disgusting...but not life-threatening).

So we got there, and the doctor basically told us nothing. We couldn't see our regular doctor again, haven't seen her since before the virus since we've been work-ins. I guess I can't say she didn't tell us anything, but that's how I felt when I was sitting there.

We had to bring in stool samples (fun for all, especially the nurses), and Dr. A said she'd send them off to be tested for E. coli (what the....?), salmonella, and all kinds of other similarly scary stuff. Then she said we wouldn't get the results for 4-5 days, and when we did get them, it wouldn't really matter what it was, since they couldn't do anything about it. Well, that's just great. I tell you, I'm getting EXTREMELY fed up with some parts of modern medicine, but that's a rant for another time.

The only helpful thing she said was to suggest that we use a new kind of Similac formula, made especially for babies with diarrhea. I immediately perked up. Finally, something I could do! I mean, just look at her.



How can I let her down?

So we began the search for the Holy Grail, or this:
http://abbottnutrition.com/images/CoE/products/Similac-Isomil-DF.jpg

Yeah, I know it's small and you can't even see it, but I did promise you the Holy Grail. And that's what I felt like we were searching for yesterday, the one magical formula that could possibly make my child feel better. Because when your baby has had diarrhea for 8 days, sometimes 8-10 times a day, you are desperate, my friend.

Of course the doctor was out of samples. I called every specialized pharmacy Matt and I could think of on the way home, and no one had it. In the midst of all this, Audrey had another diarrhea diaper blow-out in the car and we had to pull over.

I went into Rite-Aid while Matt dealt with the diaper, mainly because I had on jeans and it felt like it was over 100 degrees yesterday. Me, high temperatures, high humidity, and fibromyalgia = feel like crap/possible panic attack.

There was an extremely helpful pharmacist there who called all over creation trying to find this elusive formula, including the NICU at our hospital, where they'd never even heard about it. By the time I left the store, I was DONE. I'd been up since 6:30, only eaten a granola bar and toast, and it was now almost 3:00.

The rest of the afternoon was just a blur, but I did call the pedi's office again, in total and complete desperation, to see if they knew of any place where I could get it. A very kind soul there spent hours trying to locate it, and discovered Publix could order it and have it by noon tomorrow (today). Thank God.

Then last night, Matt was looking around on the Internet and found it. Guess where? At a Walgreen's right down the road from us. Holy Mother of Everything.

I swear, I'm going to lose my mind if this doesn't end soon. But the important thing is, Audrey has a bottle of this fabulous formula under her belt (or onesie), and we'll be using it for the next several days. I just pray to God that it works.

I've just about had it

Okay, if you look a couple of posts down, you'll see where my gyno told me that I may need a hysterectomy this week. Seriously.

Well yesterday, I went to my general doc to get the results of my recent blood tests, since I have hypothyroidism. Good news: my thyroid is perfect. Bad news: my liver enzymes are still elevated, and have been since giving birth to Audrey.

I love my doc, Dr. L. He's gotten me through a lot of stuff, but I got really ticked off at him yesterday. He did a physical exam, pressing on the part of the body where my liver is (didn't know that at the time). It REALLY hurt, and I told him so. He grabbed my test results, mumbled something about being able to see better in his office, and left. HE WAS GONE FOR 30 MINUTES. He knows I have problems with anxiety...what the heck?

When he came back, he told me about the liver enzymes. My rheumatologist had already told me about this a few months after Audrey was born, but she said sometimes that happens after the birth of a baby. So I worried a little for about a day, then let it go.

But still elevated? So, of course, my mind goes to the darkest places...liver cancer, in need of a liver transplant, etc.

p.s. Matt offered to give me his liver, and I said, "Honey, you kind of need that to live." So sweet of him. ::pats his little head::

I asked Dr. L what exactly this means. He said, "I don't know." Aaargh. Don't get me wrong, I guess I'm glad that he didn't venture an uneducated opinion, but that only made my fears worse, like he didn't want to tell me. I said, "See, Dr. L, this is why I don't like taking all this medication." He just looked at me.

So, I need an ultrasound of my liver, time and date to be determined. I was really upset, especially after the gyno appt. from earlier this week. I actually ran off the side of the road on the way to my mom's house, where Matt and Audrey were waiting for me. Ridiculous.

I cannot take any more of this.

Everyone tells you, but still...

So this morning, I got out Audrey's baby book so I could write down a couple of things. Like yesterday, we gave her a sippy cup for the first time (empty) so she could play with it. I read somewhere that's what you should do (I'm a research junkie, by the way). Within a minute of giving her the cup, she put it to her mouth correctly and started to suck. I was blown away by this. Maybe it's normal for babies to do this, but so quickly? Wow, I was just in awe.

Then yesterday, Matt and I took her to Wal Mart. Before we left, I happened to spy the shopping cart cover we got at a shower in her closet. We took it along with us.

::side note:: Matt dropped me off at the door because my FMS has been kicking my butt, so I took the cover in and tried to install it in the cart myself. BIG FAT FAIL!!!

After Matt brought Audrey in and installed the cover correctly (not that I resent him being able to do it the first time he tried, no way), we started rolling her around the store. I wasn't sure how she'd do, because up until now, she's been in the infant carrier or Peg when we go shopping.

But she was a pro. She sat up the whole time, no crying or anything. She even tried to eat my shopping list. And I had used one of those pens that smears when it gets wet, so now it's slightly blurry. Sigh.  But let me tell you, if you don't have one of those shopping cart covers, get one. I think I'll be buying it for baby shower gifts from now on. They rock. The padding is awesome, and it covers the whole seat, so that even germaphobes like me can rest easy.

Oh yeah, and Audrey started to scoot last night. Matt put her at one end of the crib while he was trying to get her to sleep, and she scooted all the way to the other end. Incredible.

My point is, she is doing so many new things each day that I can hardly keep up with it in her baby book. Now I fully understand why second/third/fourth childrens' baby books are usually blank. I know my brother's is. If you're caring for two or more children, you don't have the time to do it, first of all. Secondly, they do something new practically every day, and it's really hard to keep up.

So yeah, I'm not gonna tell you to cherish every moment with your LO (little one) because they grow up so fast, and I hope that I'll never utter those words to a new mom, ever. I've gotten so sick of hearing it.

But they do. And what a fantastic blessing it is to be able to witness it each and every day.

And the Fibro strikes again...

Yesterday, my body simply revolted against me. From the moment I woke up, it's like it was saying, Yeah, you thought YOU were going to choose your activities for the day. Ha. Big fat HA. We're still having a good time on vacation. No, really, I do mean that. Because ever since I was diagnosed with FMS, everything is relative. If I have to feel like a piece of steaming crap, then why not do it in a beautiful setting?

But every step I took resonated through my body, vibrating it with spasms of pain. You know how it feels when you're at a red light, and someone with an obnoxiously loud stereo system pulls up beside you? How you can feel the vibrations in your body? (Heck, maybe you're one of those people. No judgments here).

Anyway, that's how it felt. The pain radiated from my feet up through my knees, hips, shoulders, to the top of my head. That kinda sucks when you're going up and down lots of steps, on the way to and from the beach. But remember how I said everything is relative? See, I was going to the beach, not to, say, the hospital for chemotherapy treatment. Okay, so maybe that was a little dramatic, but you get the point.

I'm just thankful for Matt, because he was so good and sweet and unbelievably helpful. He watched Audrey while I took a good, long nap in the afternoon. He massaged oil into my legs and calves, draining my lymph nodes down there. That's part of the "self-care" that my massage therapist has taught me. He also got up with Audrey every time she stirred last night (which she's been doing a lot, strangely enough...wonder if she's teething?) He took care of her when she awakened for the day. He let me sleep until 9, then asked if I wanted to sleep some more.

You're not ruining my vacay, FMS. You may have won this battle, but you will NOT win the war.