So the last post, Mr. W and I were basically done.  Finished.  *sniff* Over.  Long story short, I begged and pleaded, we agreed to give it another go, had fabulous make-up sex, and were happy again.   But then that evil wedding monster started climbing back out of its hole and gnawing at our ankles.  Money, stress.  Stress, money.  Planning, planning, planning.  MELTDOWN!  After 2 anxiety attacks in less than a week, Mr. W was ready to commit me, or at the very least heavily medicate me!

Last night we agreed to call the whole thing off.  We would attempt to get some of the money back that we’d put in, but were ok if it didn’t work out that way.  Better to have our sanity and each other than to sink even more money into something we may not both survive to even see.  (I’m being a little dramatic here…a little…)  The biggest problem was the $800 in non-refundable, non-transferable plane fare that his mom just shelled out for the trip here.  She’s not as much in a place to be just “ok” with losing that kind of money.  But, we intended to pay her back, re-compensate anyone else who put any significant amount of money into this whole fiasco, and call it a day.  And then, somewhere down the line, when the stars align and the moon is full and Earth is in the shadow of Mars on the third Saturday of an even month…  we would elope.  Or rather, Mr. W’s version of eloping which includes all four kids, my mom to take care of the kids, probably his mom because she’s always wanted to go to Vegas, my dad because, hey, LA is just right there, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.  Can you say “lots of money?”  So not the point.  But that was to be discussed at a later, more suitable (i.e. less stressful) time.

Then it hit me:

We probably aren’t going to get a refund on the venue or the photographer.  Mom-n-fam’s plane tickets are lost without use on THAT weekend (damn Delta and their jacked up policies to steal money…), and neither of us really want to break the news to our families.  Why not reduce our evil wedding monster with a guest list of over 100 people back to a small, informal, family only affair that we both had pictured in the back of our minds to begin with.  Damn wedding industry and their manipulative, more-is-better-and-less-is-crap ways!  So I put it to Mr. W………………and he smiled again!  All planning can be done by the end of next week.  There is a kitchen at the venue, so we can cook a family style meal, set up 2 or 3 tables (instead of 14, plus buffet tables, plus DJ table…..) and have a small ceremony in the garden with our $100 minister.  I get my fancy pictures.  He gets the Wal-Mart special paper plates.  Our families get to meet, and we all get to smile together.  We don’t lose the money, and we don’t lose our minds (or each other) in the process.  Case closed.  Happy again. 

Now I just have to figure out how to tell all our friends…damn wedding industry and their etiquette and “things to do.”  Stupid “Save-the-Date” cards!

I do not want to be here, Sam-I-Am. 

I had a fabulous weekend.  Starting Thursday, I had a much needed bonding evening with the girls over a margarita before heading home.  Friday brought a night out with more folks from work, soothing some of those rough edges that exist between us on any normal day.  Saturday was my “birthday” of sorts…Mr. W took me on a dinner cruise on the Potomac, followed by a romantic evening in a fancy hotel…The Mandarin Oriental.  Beautiful.  It was a wonderful evening all around.  Sunday, we headed home and opted for dinner out and a movie with the older kids:  Inception.  Really good movie.  So why am I crying in the ladies room?

Well, Monday was strained.  Sunday’s dinner, and probably the mass quantities of alcohol I consumed from Thursday onward, left my belly a little “unhappy.”  It’s actually still a little unhappy.  So I stayed home, with Mr. W (his every-other-Monday off) and the two older kids.  We ran errands, went to lunch, discovered Mr. W has high cholesterol and a fatty liver, and began getting “short” around 4 or 5 pm.  But we maintained.  The kids went back to their mom’s, so I thought maybe this would be an opportunity (empty house) to continue the wonderfully frisky trend that the weekend prompted.  No such luck…we ended up going to bed mad, although I’m not sure what about, and waking up even worse.  Long story short, the car ride to work this morning had us both shouting, me in tears, and us splitting up…sorta…I think. 

But it’s not that simple.  Our lives are so intertwined that we can’t just “break up.”  We are dependant on each other in every facet of life.  We share everything, and I really do mean everything.  We have kids to think about.  We have a 2 year lease on a house neither of us can afford alone.  We share bills, food, childcare, everything.  Well, everything, it seems, except what’s important. 

We fight, a lot.  We don’t communicate.  Most days we would probably both agree we don’t know each other at all.  So why are we together?  Well, there’s love.  I do love my Mr. W.  With all my heart and should, I love him.  I wouldn’t have let myself get so tied up if I didn’t.  He wouldn’t be my home if I didn’t.  (For as long as I can remember, “home” was my parents’ home…until Mr. W.  I would get ridiculously home sick within months of visiting, and would visit at least twice a year, every year, since I left in 1999.  But now, when I think of “home,” I think of him.)  But love doesn’t seem to be enough.

I asked him this morning if he wanted to be done.  He said yes.  I said I was going to leave.  He didn’t say no.  I told him I loved him.  He stayed quiet.  And then I got hit by a bus:

Him: You must have known this was coming. 

Me: What? Why?

Him: Well, why haven’t you sent out the invitations to the wedding yet?  You must have known this was coming since you haven’t sent them out.

Me: (granted, in hysterics)  WHAT?  I haven’t sent them because you are supposed to send them 6 weeks before the wedding.  If you don’t want to marry me, why didn’t you just tell me.  If you don’t love me, why don’t you just tell me.  If you don’t want this anymore, WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST TELL ME?! 

Him: Oh.

Somehow that said it all.  He was expecting this?  He was waiting for this?  He had an inkling this was going to happen?  Why not say something?  WTF?  Was he just waiting for me to?  I can’t even begin to understand this.  “Hey, there’s a bus coming, but she probably knows that, so I’ll just watch while it runs her down.”  Fan-fucking-tastic.  Obviously, if you read my blog, you know I’ve got baggage.  You know I’m nuts.  You know I’m a bitch and raving lunatic at times.  Apparently he does not.  Apparently he thought I was a Stepford.  Apparently all the apologies in the world will never be enough.  Apparently my insanity has driven another one away.  2 years 6 months.  Yep, that’s about right.  So what the hell do I do now?  I can’t leave.  I can’t stay.  Money is lost, and will continue to be.  I’m lost, and will continue to be.  So what happens now?  What happens when I get home?  What happens when he gets home?  What happens tomorrow?  I can’t concentrate.  I can’t think.  I can’t function.

And crying alone in the ladies room is just so damned cliche!

I had a detailed post done two days ago explaining all this, but when I was a spell-check away from publishing, my computer shit itself and all was lost.  Hrumph.  Yeah, it’s been that kind of week. Month. Year?  Bear with me as I try to recap…

Moving, wedding, teenagers, the boy and the girl, too many projects at work, finances, Mr. W…I think that was all.  You know, basically everything that encompasses my everyday!  No biggie.

We move in 9 days.  We aren’t packed.  I packed 9 boxes in the last two days and besides the boxes sitting in there, you wouldn’t know it.  We don’t have a truck.  We don’t have definite moving help.  We don’t have someone to rent our house.  WTF?!  And I’m about 3 inches from blowing up on someone about it.  Someone being Mr. W unfortunately as he is pretty good at being a target of opportunity.  Not that he’s totally innocent, but still, I’m holding back.  Things promise to be better, much better once we move…and as much as I want to believe promises, part of me is always skeptical.

The wedding is in just over 100 days.  We don’t have a DJ.  We don’t have invitations.  We don’t have tables, chairs, a tent, or any other rental stuff.  We don’t have garments except for my dress and shoes, which is unwearable until it’s tailored.  And we are slacking on the desire to have a wedding at all.  (Talk of doing the elope thing has been flung around lately) What do we have? A minister and a location.  Sweet.  September 25th promises to be number 3 on my “best day ever” list when all is said and done, but that’s not for another 100 plus days.

Teenagers…need I say more?  I love them, but they are teens, and teens bring drama.  I think it may be part of their lifeblood.  I remember my teen years vividly (well, the ones that aren’t clouded by chemicals anyway…) and I have hold no grudge to any other teen…but still.  And the little ones, again, need I say more?  The girl got Lyme from me so now I am forced to watch her go through what I did and feel nothing but pure, unadulterated guilt for “infecting” her.  And the boy, well, one more month until the end of the school year, which means a summer away with his dad. 

Work is work is work.  And finances are finances.  I spread myself too thin in both areas and then suffer the wrath of my own decisions after.  I could kick my own ass for it, but really, what good would that do? 

And Mr. W…relates to all of the above.  Stress is contagious, but when we both have it, it only multiplies exponentially.  I long for my loving man who is just so overtired these days that he seems to be in hibernation…permanently. 

I passed by his old apaprtment the other day, and ever since have been reminiscing on our time there.  It was small and humble, but I have nothing but fond memories of those four walls.  We got to know each other there.  We fell in love there.  We had “our” time there.  Yes, we had fights and heartbreaks and even broke up more than a couple times, but there were far more wonderful days, and nights, in those spaces.  And I miss them so.  We were genuinely excited by, and about each other there.  We held each other up.  We cared and loved and were one. 

Today I picked up a package from the post office.  When the lady brought it to me, she had a giant grin on her face and asked if it was a diploma or some other equally exciting document.  I told her I hoped so, and then ripped open the package right there while she gave me an impromptu drum roll.    And it was!  As the lady at the post office applauded and showered me with congratulatory praise, I opened my official Bachelor of Science diploma, beaming, I’m sure!  Yea!  I brought it to work to show off, and my dear, dear friend and maid of honor, C, has been announcing it wherever we go, bringing out smiles and praise and congratulations from all around me.  Finally getting hold of Mr. W, I gave him my wonderful news, to which I was first ignored, then given a half ass, forced, not even trying to show any emotion at all (unless boredom is an emotion) “yea, you got your diploma.” Period**.  Hmmm….if I hadn’t already been choking back tears for days and therefore mastered the art, I’m sure that would have brought on quite the waterworks.  Nice.  Well, at least my less than personal friend co-workers are happy for me. 

**His excuse? “You graduated months ago and haven’t been excited or brought it up until today.”  Well today I got my Pretty Piece of Paper!  My countless hours, thousands of dollars, and days off my life due to stress have amounted to something concrete, finally.  Excuse my hopes for some small amount of validation.  *Sigh*

Happy New Year!

So I’ve been slacking on, like, everything.  Seriously.  EVERYTHING.  And I need to stop.  I can make a buh-gillion excuses as to why I’ve been slacking, but it all comes down to this: 

I’m still slacking. 

And it needs to stop.

So my New Year’s resolution?  To stop slacking, of course!  I know, I know.  There is all the well-intentioned advice out there about not making vague resolutions.  “Be specific and you are more likely to succeed,” they say.  Well, “they” aren’t me, so…yeah.  Besides, I can be specific in my Ways Of Not Slacking, or WONS for short.  You know, like “wins” but in the past tense so it’s like I’ve already won.  Positive thinking at its best!

My things to end the slack on, or WONS:

• Smoking.  I need to stop the slack on quitting smoking.  Nuff said.
• Medicine.  I need to stop the slack on my meds.  I’ve been so busy trying to pretend I’m not sick that I’ve all but given up on all my “feel better” supplements and stuff.  And guess what?  I’m not feeling any better!
• Organization and planning.  I need to stop the slack on being organized.  There is one more class until I graduate, a move, and a wedding in my near future and if I’m going to get it all done without landing in the loony bin, I’m going to have to do some serious brushing up on those O and P skills.
• Speaking of the wedding.  I need to stop the slack on wedding planning.  With the recent addition of my dear friend and maid-o-honor, C, to my locale, the wedding planning, or lack there of, has been coming up in conversation a lot.  9 months, no budget set, no venue, no dress, no plans.  oops.  Well, at least I know the colors…maybe…possibly…
• Sleeping.  I need to stop the slack on my sleep.  I should be getting at least 8 hours.  It would be better if I got 9 or 10, under my present health condition.  I’m lucky if I give myself 6.  It’s gotta stop! 
• Name change.  I need to stop the slack on changing my name.  While I won’t be changing my name to “Mrs. W” when we get married, I should probably complete the name change process from my last marriage, which officially ended, oh, about 9 months ago. 
• Nutrition.  I need to stop the slack on good nutrition.  My kids need it.  I desperately need it.  Mr. W needs it.  Healthy food makes for healthy, happy bodies, makes for healthy, happy minds, makes for healthy, happy people.  I can do it…and so I must.
• Me.  I need to stop the slack on me.  I need to stop doing the things that make me feel like crap (smoking, not resting enough, getting behind on everything, eating like crap) and start doing things that make me feel good (supplements, acupuncture, massage, exercise, meditation, eating and sleeping well…hell, even getting a pedicure if it will make me sit and rest for an hour!) 

It’s a full circle.  If I can concentrate on the little bits, the overall picture will get better.  If I can work on me, all those around me will reap the rewards.  A rested mommy wants to play more.  A happy fiancee d0esn’t bite your head of for little no reason.  An emotionally sound friend can be there when you need her.  A healthy daughter can save leave for vacations and visits instead of using it on sick days. 

The guilt of how I’ve been treating my loved ones weighs heavily on me.  The guilt of how I’ve been treating myself does too.  If I can stop the slack, just one small thing at a time, the “WONS” will really be WON!

About two weeks ago, my lymph nodes in my neck started to swell.  Totally a normal thing for the Lyme, so no worries, right?  WRONG!  While the one on the right stayed around about the  normal size of a regularly swollen lymph node (you know, grape sized) the one on the left continued to grow.  I mentioned it to my nurse on her normal weekly visit, who promptly replied with (surprise, surprise) “yeah, that’s a normal Lyme thing.”  Ok, no biggie. 

By the next Monday, a week ago, I was feeling pretty run down.  That left lymph had reached the size of a small egg, and was visible to the naked eye, but only after being pointed out.  But I was stuffy, so I figured head cold, no big deal.  Annoying, yes, but worrisome, no.  Tuesday, was worse.  By the time I got home, I was seeing double and wanted nothing more but to lay down.  Forever.  My nurse came over Wednesday, promptly noticing that I did not go to work, and after donning her protective mask (always a good sign!), checked me out.  The left lymph was now a medium sized egg encroaching quickly on the large.  I assured her I had no intention of going to work any time soon, so she did her thing (blood draw, checked my symptoms, temp, blood pressure) and left.  Thursday brought my monthly check up with my doc.  By 2pm, the left lymph was lime sized (ha, ironic huh?) and very visible.  Besides that, Wednesday evening onwards it had been pushing so hard on everything else that should fit quite comfortably in that region of my neck that my teeth, inner ear, jaw, and throat were throbbing with pain.  The doc checked me out and was visibly concerned.  My earlier (completely stupid, overzealous, and morbid) Internet research of swollen lymphs being the first sign of lymphoma all over his face. 

He gave me a shot of cortisone in the upper hip, which by the way really freaking hurts!  And wrote me three new prescriptions: Prednisone, Valtrex, and high dose potassium (apparently the antibiotics are lowering my potassium levels…hence those weekly blood draws) and told me to take a 4 day break from my IV therapy to let my body recover.  I had more blood drawn in the office to check for lymphoma, another Epstein-Barr panel, and whatever else may be going on in there, and headed home and back to bed. 

Friday I woke up feeling somewhat normal, that is, until I tried to eat.  Pepperoni pizza and Mt. Dew.  Except I couldn’t taste anything.  I could smell it.  I could feel the spice of the pepperoni on my tongue, but no taste whatsoever.  WTF, man?!  So I left a message at my docs office to see what was going on, which was later returned with an “oh that’s normal.”  Ok, great.  (My taste did return by Saturday morning)  I had to take th boy to meet his dad for Christmas on Saturday, and with the projected snow, we decided to drive up Friday night, spend the night, and come home a little earlier on Saturday.  Not needing to do any infusions til Monday, I packed my stack of pills, but did not bring my IV supplies. 

Saturday morning we woke to fluffy white mountains of snow, and falling snow, and blowing snow…you get the idea.  We dropped the boy early, ate breakfast (mmmm…Cracker Barrel) and headed out at about 1030 for our short 3 hours drive home.  Yeah, right.  While the roads were clear of traffic, another round of blizzard came through in the early afternoon and by 3pm the plows had given up clearing snow from the highways and the visibility was so bad we were forced to find a hotel for the  night, 2 hours from home.  Not such a bad thing under normal circumstances, but…

The doc also recently put me on Vyvanse, an mild ADHD medication to help with my Lymie brain fog.  It works great for that, except that it also makes me TOTALLY WIRED for about 20 hours after taking it.  Also, the steroids (prednisone) make me jittery, and being in a heated vehicle for two days, driving under stressful conditions had completely dried out and worn out my body to no end.  So I was totally wasted physically, but completely wired mentally.  Not a good combination for rest. 

Then I noticed, my tube was fairly, uh, empty. 

Normally, my tube, the 6 or so inches of tubing that hangs out of my chest from my catheter, is full of heparin (blood thinner) between IV infusions.  Being a “Groshong” catheter, it is specifically designed to be self-sealing, nothing in, nothing out unless there is pressure placed on the valve, like from a syringe pushing fluid or pulling blood.  That is the point of the thing.  So if there is nothing in my tube, specifically only 2 inches worth of fluid in the 6-ish inches worth of tube, where the hell did it go?  At home, I probably would have just flushed some saline through and called it a day, but, I didn’t bring any saline.  And I was snowed into some out of the way hotel in the middle of who knows where because there is a million feet of snow outside.  So now what? 

When we finally got home Sunday afternoon, the mere 2 inches of fluid that were in the tube were completely gone.  I called the 24-hour nurse hot line, trying not to panic in front of Mr. W and his sensitivities to all things that may cause me pain or discomfort.  The nurse on the line was utterly confused.  Not in the confused way that he was inept, but in the confused way that it’s not supposed to ever go dry.  No matter what.  It’s designed that way.  That’s the freaking point of the thing!  So he told me to clamp my tube as close to my body as I can, and a nurse will be out to check it in the morning.  Meanwhile, if I have any weird feelings, especially in my chest, head to the ER.  Ok, yeah, that will help me sleep.  Thanks.  Oh yeah, and in “clamping my tube close to my body,” that has basically resulted in the clamp, roughly the size and shape of a pair of kiddie-scissors across my chest, held in place with two ace bandages wrapped around my upper body and a sports bra.  On the inside, things are digging and pinching and just plain uncomfortable.  On the outside, I look like I’ve sprouted a third, rather misshapen boob in the center of my chest, slightly higher than the other two.  Luckily, I’m fairly un-endowed in the boob department, so it could be worse.  I suppose. 

I spoke to my nurse this morning, and she talked me through drawing out the air, so I’ll be trying that later on this afternoon.  And the adventures in Lyme continue…

I’ve been playing hooky from my blog lately.  Not exactly sure why.  Maybe I’m tired of whining about how I feel.  Maybe I’m having some guilt about blogging when there are a MILLION other things I should be doing that I’m just not.  Maybe I’m being lazy.  Whatever it is, maybe I’m over it.  Maybe I’m not. 

So how do I feel I (don’t) hear you ask.  Well.  Lyme disease sucks.  It really does.  Physically, I have more bad days than good days.  There is pain, pretty much everywhere.  Some days it’s not so bad.  Some days it’s excruciating.  Think of a body part…yeah, it hurts there too.  So that’s fun.  Also, there is the “floaters,”  the harmless little black lines and spots everyone has in their eyes from time to time.  Only, mine are multiplying like horny rabbits and are always there.  Seriously, the words on my computer screen are dancing right now.  It makes reading anything very difficult.  And a new addition to the eye thing: now there are white, or bright spots along with the black spots.  It must be similar to what celebrities see after being flashed with a thousand flashbulbs on a regular basis.  My ears, constantly ringing.  Constantly.  It’s like after going to a really good rock concert, only I don’t get the perk of actually going to a really good rock concert.  It makes me very sensitive to sounds.  Annoying sounds are that much more annoying.  Loud sounds are that much louder and more grating.  Even whisper sounds drive me nuts.  I’m seriously craving a sensory deprivation chamber right about now, but all my problems are internal, so that probably wouldn’t work anyway.  I’m nauseous, and my appetite fluctuates between famished and I never want to eat again.  I almost always have a headache.  At the moment (I think) I am developing a nasty cold, since I’m stuffy about 50% of the time and there is a golfball-sized lump where my left lymph node should be in my neck.  My hands and feet swell randomly.  I’m tired and achy when I wake up in the morning, every morning.  After my shower (at $5 per shower thanks to needing a 6×6 tagaderm patch just to take a shower…gift ideas anyone?) and coffee, I am fairly awake for about 2 hours, then back to sheer exhaustion until I finally make it to bed at night.  I have cotton mouth pretty much all the time thanks to the pain meds, which don’t full work.  I get horrible stomach and muscle cramps thanks to the antibiotic infusions every 12 hours.  And now I’m on ADHD meds for the severe memory lapses and brain fog, so who knows what kind of side effects that will bring.  The antibiotics are also bringing about all the “normal” antibiotic side effects: candida, indigestion, digestive issues, upset stomach, etc, etc.  Probiotics are holding it off to a tolerable level, but then that just adds another couple pills a day to choke down.  Yea! 

Then there is the emotional stuff.  Long term pain = depression, of some sort or another.  I’m cranky most of the time, which I very unfairly take out on Mr. W (who is taking this all very well considering) and my kids, unfortunately.  (If only the ex-men would call more often to take the brunt of the crank!)  I’m feeling extremely unattractive, undesirable, un-everything thanks to a new, very short hair cut that I’m really  not liking (the showering thing, it only made sense to make my “getting ready” routine as easy as possible),  the bloat/weight gain that makes it difficult and uncomfortable to get dressed in anything but sweats, and, oh yeah, there’s the 4 inch long tube sticking out of my chest, just above my left boob, which requires wearing a sports bra to bed every night, and I’m already pretty flat in that area.  Like I need the extra compression.  My upper body has become a no fly zone, and with my flat-chested sports bra “lingerie” and my extremely short hair, I’m feeling more an more like a boy in the bedroom.  Not so great for the “mood,” at least on my part anyway.

Aren’t you glad you asked? 

Beyond the Lyme, I’m prepping for Christmas, which incidentally will be held over New Years in my house as the kidlets are with their dads this year.  Money is tight, but on-line shopping has provided me with some fantastic deals over the last couple months.  Yea for being proactive in something. 

Mr. W got a new job, starting just after Christmas.  Fortunately it’s like a 40% pay raise and in the field he loves.  Unfortunately, his office is about a 1 1/2 hour commute each way, even with public transportation, and his hours may be sporadic due to the type of work he will be doing.  So he won’t be home much during the week.  But we will be moving somewhere near the middle in the early Spring, and hopefully his new connections up there will throw out some info on jobs in my field of work and then we can move all the way up there.  I’m not planning on changing jobs any time soon…well at least until after I A) graduate, also early spring, and B) get the tube out of my chest and resolve all of my health issues.  “Nice to meet you on my first day of work.  By the way, I’m going to need to work a half day once a week so I can meet my home nurse, and I need at least 2 days off a month for doctors visits, and will probably average 1 other day off a week for just general sickness, and that doesn’t even touch any kid-related time off…thanks for the job.”  Yeah, I’m sure that would go over well with a new or potential employer. 

And speaking of new jobs, one of my best girlfriends is starting today at her new job, here, with me.  Yea!!  We met briefly in basic training (different squadrons there), and went on to Tech school together.  Although we were in different classes for the same career field, we had the same circle of friends and lived in the same hall.  We went to our first base together and managed to work out being roommates there.  Our friendship didn’t do so well in the dorm setting.  She was a party girl and I grew tired of that pretty fast as I was more interested in boys, and yes I do mean boys.  Looking back, I had pretty shitty taste in males!  I married ex #1, despite her loathing of him and warnings about him.  I even left her off the guest list to our wedding.    Anyway, we both eventually transferred and went on with our lives.  You know my story.  She went over-seas.  Grew up a lot.  Had a son.  Moved back stateside, and we reconnected about 5 years later, our friendship re-growing on a much more adult level.  Long story short, she was looking for more security for her and her boy, and my office was looking for more reliable new employees.  I introduced the two and wa-la.  She starts today.  All around, it’s great.  I have a close friend who is actually geographically close.  My kids and her son get along great, and they all have had a shortage of “at home” friends up to this point in their lives.  And she’s getting the security and benefits she needs for her and her son, while working decent hours.  I get a reliable, hard co-worker among a group of (mostly) assholes and slackers.  Win-win-win all around!

So that’s that.  I’m successfully dizzy from watching the letters dance on my screen, my fingers are starting to tingle from actually using them.  And I need a smoke and a coffee refill.  Oh, yeah, and I should probably get to at least one of those previously mentioned MILLION things I need to get done, like, yesterday.

Just in case I slack on the blog again for a while…

I got it!  I got it!  I got it! 

The newest addition to our technological family arrived on Friday afternoon, after a long day of waiting by the door, checking the door, opening the door to see if anyone or anything was there, checking the doorbell to make sure it still worked…and then I saw it.  The glint of the sun reflecting off the white of the Fed Ex truck.  I ran to the door to greet the wonderful Fed Ex lady as she held it lovingly in her arms.  And it was huge! 

She was nice enought to bring it in the house for me because at 31 lbs, I can’t lift it.  Which means I couldn’t take it out of the box and do a naked worshippy dance for it…or, you know, just set it up and play with it…either one. 

So, the specs for the geeky types:

• 27″ Backlit, widescreen LED iMac  Yes, I did say 27 inches of LED fabulocity!
• 3.33GHz Intel Core 2 Duo processor with 6MB shared L2 cache
• 8GB (two 4GB SO-DIMMs) of 1066MHz DDR3 SDRAM
• 1TB 7200-rpm Serial ATA hard drive
• ATI Radeon HD 4850 graphics processor with 512MB of GDDR3 memory
• Built in iSight camera, mic, stereo speakers, wireless, bluetooth, Ethernet…you name it!

In the box:

• iMac
• Apple Keyboard w/ Number pad (I couldn’t do the wireless because I need the number pad on my keyboard) 
• Magic Mouse (the most amazing mouse ever!)
• Cleaning cloth
• Power cord
• Install/restore DVDs
• Printed and electronic documentation
• Apple Remote

And for the Greenies:

• Arsenic-free display glass
• BFR-free
• PVC-free⁵
• Highly recyclable aluminum and glass enclosures
• Meets ENERGY STAR 5.0 requirements
• Rated EPEAT Gold⁷

And I call him Mr. Wonderful!!  Yes, Mr. W ordered it for me, and took care of all the upgrades to make it just what I want!  I am such a lucky girl!  He set it up for me Friday night too, overwhelming my now seemingly little desk with the iMac’s massiveness and fantasticness!  It’s. seriously. HUGE!  And the “Magic Mouse” is the coolest mouse ever!  (ok, let me pause here to apologize about my overenthusiasm for exclaimation points in this post, but I’m a little excited over the whole thing, so bear with me.)  The “Magic Mouse” works kinda like the touchpad on the MacBooks, for those of you who know how they work anyway.  It’s a thin, wireless, bluetooth, optical mouse with only one button which covers the whole surface.  You can program it to use a single button, or two buttons, which just means you push the right-ish or left-ish side of the mouse to make it respond.  There is no scroll wheel.  Instead, you just scroll your single finger up and down, or left and right on the  mouse for scrolling.  Also, there is a two-finger feature which allows you to flip through web pages, photos, even andvance/rewind video by sliding two fingers horizontally across the mouse.  Oh, and you can zoom your screen by holding down the cntrl key and single-finger scrolling up or down, which is really handy when your monitor is 27 freaking inches and your web pages insist on remaining normal web page size and you can’t figure out how to maximize your window because it’s technically not a window since you are on a Mac OS and not on Windows, but it looks just like a window, but different, and totally doesn’t behave like a window…*whew* sorry about that…just some change-over frustration there…but totally worth it!

Here’s the “Magic Mouse”

It really is a fantatic and aesthetically pleasing little thing! 

And without further ado…drum roll…here he is:

In the box

And on my (seemingly small) desk

 

Mr. W and I have been together for two years, give or take a couple days/weeks/…  Ok, so we don’t know the exact date of our anniversary, and by this time next year we will be married (or at least that’s the plan) so it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things sort of way.  We went out on our first date sometime in November, before Thanksgiving of 2007, and ended up officially together at some point thereafter without even really realizing it.  So the anniversary day is all sort of fuzzy.  Last year, he was in Iraq and sent me surprise flowers for our one-year.  (Awww, ain’t he sweet?!) But this year…this year is different.

IT’S LIKE PULLING FREAKING TEETH TO GET HIM TO AKNOWLEDGE THE THING!

What is it about men?  Seriously, there are a couple times a year you guys have to suck it up and pretend (convincingly, convincinglyis important!) that you are into all that relationship-y mushy stuff:  Valentine’s Day,  birthday,  anniversary, and possibly New Years Eve (you know, the kissing thing at midnight…which I’ve never done coincidentally…).  That’s basically it.  Four events a year to feign excitement for.  FOUR!  I mean, I get it, ya’ll aren’t into it.  “It’s just another day.”  “It’s just a holiday for girls.”  “It’s something Hallmark and the chocolate people made up to make money.”  Whatever!  Suck it up and tell her you love her already.  Do or say that thing you know makes her weak in the knees and all fluttery in the tummy.  You know what it is.  Besides, you’ll probably get something out of it in the end anyway. 

We sort of picked a day last year which ended up being the day he sent flowers.  Made sense.  Of course neither of us kept track of the day, so this year I’ve made several attempts, in vain, to pin down a day for “us,” for celebration.  Mr. W keeps insisting on Thanksgiving, but:

1. I don’t want to share “our” day with any other National holiday.
2. Thanksgiving isn’t the same date every year.
3. You can’t go out for a romantic dinner on Thanksgiving because if family doesn’t happen to be involved in your plans, the local Chinese fast food place is probably going to be the only option.
4. We are spending Thanksgiving this year with his family, after a long road trip to Michigan, with four kids in the car, at a hotel, with same said four kids…not so romantic to me.  And it’s all about the romance, DAMMIT!

Very rarely am I that “girly-girl.”  But, I do like me some romance from time to time.  I’m allowed.  I make up for it in other ways.  I’m not going to list those ways right now (or probably ever) but just trust  me, I do make up for it.  And now I’m at my very familiar, too familiar, annoyingly familiar crossroad:  Do I hold out and demand what I want, or do I just say F*%@ it and give up?  With everything else going on in my life, I’m tempted to hold out for at least one thing…but who am I kidding?  With everything else going wrong in my life.  Disappointingly, dishearteningly, disgruntled-ly wrong…I’m most likely going to go with the latter, you know, for consistency’s sake. 

*sigh…*

update:  Shortly after posting this, I got an email from the folks at homeaway.com.  The subject line was this:  “Re-Ignite the Passion with a Couples Getaway.”  Hmmm…have they been reading?

It’s been awhile, I know.  A lot’s been going on though, ya know.

I got my catheter “installed.”  Not sure how else to put it.  The surgery was uneventful.  Well, as far as I know, but then again I was in what they called a “twilight sedation” so I have no clue what happened during that hour, or for a couple hours after apparently.  Mr. W said I was pretty out of it and has reminded me of a couple conversations I had after I thought I was aware, but apparently not so much.  It’s no big thing really.  And literally.  Basically, there is a normal sized IV tube entering my skin about 4 inches below my collarbone.  There is a winged plastic tab at the insertion site which is stitched to my skin there, but my nurse explained yesterday that this really isn’t necessary, and actually more of a nuisance for cleaning.  She suggested I have my doctor remove it in a couple weeks.  There is a cuff of sorts at the site, on the inside, which is designed so that my skin actually grows into it, providing a barrier to the outside world.  Pretty cool stuff.  The IV tube is tunneled under my skin and up about 3 inches, where there is another incision site.  This is where the tube actually goes into a vein, and continues down towards my heart.  All in all, it’s not so pretty, but really not that bad.  Of course, there is about 6 inches of tubing coming out of my chest, the end of which has a fairly large nozzle-y thing which is what I connect to my meds during my infusions. 

The infusions are simple.  I push 10 ccs of saline from a pre-loaded, needle-less syringe.  Then the antibiotics.  The image of IV antibiotics is a pole with a bag that works on gravity, forcing you to be stationary for as long as it takes for the bag to empty.  But oh the amazingness that is modern medicine!  I have these “accu-flo” antibiotic balls that are just fabulous.  Well, as fabulous as being on IV meds can be.  I hook it up to my little nozzle thingy, flip the clamp, and the pressurized ball pumps in the antibiotics at whatever pre-set rate.  (In my case, 100mL over 30 mins)   Once connected, I can get up, move around, do whatever instead of being tied to an IV pole.  After the antibiotics, another 10 ccs of saline, followed by 5 ccs of heparin, which apparently stays in the tube to ward off any blood-clots or blockages, but which also apparently I don’t need to use since I have a Groshong catheter which is specifically designed to not have clots or blockages, thus avoiding the need for heparin flushes.  Hmmm…doing it anyway…at least for now.  Of course there is lots of hand-washing and hand sanitizing and alcohol wiping going on all along the way.  But all in all, no biggie.

The hardest thing about all of this is logistics.  The whole process takes about 45 minutes, give or take an extra hand-washing.  Plus, the antibiotics are stored in the fridge, so have to be removed and warmed to room temperature naturally, 4 -6 hours prior to use.  Also, I do two a day, 12 hours apart.  I’ve been doing 9am/9pm, which means I take one dose out of the fridge at 5am when I first get up for the day, but then have to do that dose at work.  Also, on the weekends when I’d like to sleep a little later, I still have to set my alarm for 5am just to take it out of the fridge.  The nurse said I could take it out the night before, stretch the extra 2 hours for 8 hours of sleep (uh-huh, sure I get 8 hours) and do it in the morning.  But that means I have to add 45 minutes to my getting ready for work, so I have to get up at 4ish instead of 5ish.  YUCK!  Also, that means I actually have to be awake at the crack-of-freaking-dawn on the weekends as well in order to maintain that every-12-hours-constant-levels-of-antibiotics-in-your-system thing.  Yeah, still working on that one.

Also, I CAN’T SHOWER!  Don’t worry, I’m bathing.  In a bathtub.  Which I hate.  Nothing like sitting in your own filth!  Plus the bottom of you is wet and warm, but the top of you is dry and cold, and the water doesn’t stay hot…or clean…yeah, not a fan of baths.  They do make waterproof sleeves for PICC lines, but those are for arms and legs.  You can’t put a sleeve over your boob and expect it to keep water out.  I’ve tried the plastic wrap and tape combo, but the pesky area between side-boob and armpit just doesn’t cooperate.  It’s kind of foldy and stretchy, so tape doesn’t want to stay put with movement and water in the mix, and one handed hair washing just doesn’t work. *hrumph*  To remedy the hair washing thing, I chopped it all off.  So much for growing it out for the wedding!  This way I don’t have to wash it every day.  When I do wash, or should I say Mr. W washes my hair (and I call him Mr. Wonderful!), the short hair makes it significantly easier.  He is very good at it and I’m loving every second of the pampering at his hand, but he’s bald and has been for years, so has very little familiarity on what it takes to get long hair actually clean and conditioned.  Ah, well.  They do make very convincing hairpieces nowadays…

Beyond all this, I “shouldn’t” pick up my kids (uh, yeah right) or exerting myself with lifting or stretching or anything like that.  And there is the wardrobe thing. 

I gave up on hiding it immediately after the thought crossed my mind.  What the hell for?  I’m not ashamed.  Yeah, I have an illness.  So what?  It’s not like I can help it or I did something bad.  So what if people look and wonder.  Ask away and I’ll be happy to share!  I do keep the actual insertion site covered, mostly, just because it seems to gross people out a little.  But my happy bandage is out there for all to see!  But then there is the matter of the tube.  I don’t really care about it’s visibility, but the comfort level is different.  See the head of the tube, the part where I hook up my meds, it’s rather bulky.   I imagined just tucking it all into my bra, but, no.  That’s just not comfortable at all.  Hanging isn’t an option really.  It’s 6 inches of tubing with a 2 inch nozzle on the end.  Not practical.  I have figured that tops with a built-in shelf bra seem to work out.  I’ve got two tank tops like that, which I’ve been wearing under everything.  But, alas, it is winter, and the tanks have gone off the shelves at the store in favor of warmer clothes.  Dammit!  But then there is Victoria’s Secret!  Ah, Vicky!  Making my life a little better, one under garment at a time!    Victoria’s Secret has these “bra-tops” which I normally hate because the “bra” part is nothing near as fabulous as their normal bras and I just have to wear a normal bra with it anyway, so why bother?  But, they do all have that handy shelf part that perfectly holds my nozzle-y thing in a semi-secure area, without digging or pinching or anything!  And wa-la…another reason to shop! 

So there is some silver lining, I’ll admit it.  Oh, yeah, and eventually (I’m going to have this for at least the next 4 months) I will get better.  But until then, I’m sure there will be more bitching about it. 

 I apologize in advance.    

At least I talked about boobs and under-garments too. 

Your welcome!

The so-called “honeymoon phase” of a relationship is a grand and wonderful thing.  Everything seems to fall away in the presence of, or even a mere thought of that new(ish) someone special.  One can easily pass hours, days, weeks without even realizing.  Time is easily filled with just being together.  *sigh* And how long does it last?  I guess it’s different for different people in different situations.  I suppose it could easily go on for years with a young couple in the prime of their lives and careers, with no kids or severe responsibilities.  When talking and love-making are all that’s really important. 

Someone recently told me “you can’t stop the Earth from spinning.”  It’s true.  You can’t.  I’ve tried.  Oh, to hold on to those honeymoon times forever.  To shed responsibility and live in the rapture that is new love.  It feels almost as if the Earth has stopped spinning for those moments…almost.  But in the end it all comes back into focus in jarring reality.  Life does in fact go on, and responsibilities still sit at your door and wait for you, no matter how long it takes for you to come out. 

Mr. W and I have a fantastic relationship.  In the beginning, we were fully enchanted with the honeymoon stages of things.  Responsibilities fell away and things like sleep just didn’t feel important.  Of course, this was also before the boy started school and my kids were still on the 2 weeks here, 2 weeks there rotation, so, no, I did not totally cast off all responsibility for a piece of ass, thank you very much.  Anyway.  Right around the time we moved in together and he left for Iraq, all that slowing of the Earth on its axis snapped back with full force and we’ve been struggling to recover ever since. 

There are: kid issues, health issues (oh, my are there health issues!), a need for sleep that can’t be ignored, insomnia (on both our parts), schedules with my exes, schedules with his ex, schedules with work, schedules with family, pets, holidays, time off, sick time, working, college, schools, housework, yard work, financial issues, stresses from all sides, creative transportation arranging (i.e. carting kids here and there), doctors appointments for 6 different people, dentist appointments, braces, learning to drive, buying a car, buying a house, selling a house, moving, storing, decluttering, organizing, Christmas shopping, dinners, lunches, groceries, cooking, planning, exercising, not exercising, great intentions and epic fails…the list of life goes on and on…and on.

It all seems to have come at once, knocking us square on our asses, struggling to regain our footing in the world, that damn spinning world.  But we are doing it together.  We are side by side in all of it, helping each other get a foothold here, dragging each other down as we slip there, but together through it all.  In the end, what more could you really ask for? 

I don’t think a successful relationship can be judged purely on happiness.  Seriously.  No one, no one in the world is 100% happy 100% of the time.  It’s not possible.  Unless they secretly found a way to stop the Earth from spinning and are happily living in one of their moments of happiness, but I highly doubt it.  The glory of life is it’s ups and downs.  How can you possibly know how good things are now if they’ve never been bad?  How can you know true happiness if you’ve never felt sadness?  How can you  know the true height of joy if you’ve never seen the true depth of despair?  Good and evil must coexist in order to be, so how could the same not hold true to the other pairs?  Mr. W and I have both been to the lowest of lows and have come out the other side fully ready to appreciate the high that is us.  We’ve had heartbreak and have mended each other’s hearts.  We’ve had despair and brought tears of joy to each other’s eyes.  We’ve been broken and have worked to put each other back together again.  That’s just how we roll. 

The best of the best?  We are just there.  Through the hard and the bad and the sad and the stressing, we are there.  No time in our relationship (so far) has been harder than now.  But we are still there.  All those things I listed above, all those responsibilities and “problems,”  yeah, we’ve got them.  Even without the added external stresses (kids, jobs, schools, etc, etc) we have quite literal “shit” going on just with us, or more to the point, me.  My Lyme disease = pain (physical for me, emotional for him), moodiness on both sides, stress, worry, and more stress, financial difficulty (yeah, doctors’ bills.  Gotta love ‘em!), and limits in just about everything, and really, who likes having limits?  But he’s there.  He’s here.  He stands by me.  Yes, sometimes he has trouble accepting his role of stand-next-to-er and tries to do that man thing of trying to fix everything.  But he’s working on that.  I can see where it’s hard to be helpless in all this.  To witness so much pain and suffering and not be able to do a thing about it.  I understand. 

And he tries. 

And we do it all together.  As best friends, as lovers, as soul-mates, as the most wonderful us we can be.  Together. 

******************************************************************************************************************************************************** 

I’m getting my chest port/Groshong catheter put in on Friday morning.  I’m freaking the hell out!  He quit smoking already, for me, and for him, and for me.  He said he finally has a reason to want to live a long healthy life.  All together now: *awwww*    I’m quitting too, although not as abruptly, or successfully.  But it’s hard to quit when you are freaking the hell out about something less than a week away.  He gets it without my explanation.  He accepts my weakness and loves me still.  Would you still love me if I were 400lbs?  Would you still love me if I lost all my hair?  Will you still love me when I’m old?  Will you still love me with a 4″ long tube sticking out of my chest? 

Of course he will.  And I call him Mr. Wonderful!