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Getting my yearly pap and waiting for my doctor in the exam room for 25 minutes in a thin paper gown while I’m sweating like mad and sticking to everything.

By Elle on March 27, 2013 in a glimpse into my mind, doctor stuff, hold me, life is funny, this and that, too much info

This woman remembered to wear socks... bitch.

This woman remembered to wear socks and is in a cloth gown… bitch.

I had my yearly woman’s wellness visit last week. Aka, awkwardly laying down while your legs are up in the air and your feet are in metal stirrups. Yay!

The hummingbird crawled into bed with me the night before which meant zero sleep for me. I mean zero, zero. I was beyond exhausted that morning and dragged my ass into the car to take her to preschool for the day.

We left later than usual, around 9 am-ish, but I thought since my appointment wasn’t until the early afternoon, I could get some sleep that I really lacked.

Naps aren’t my thing because once I’m asleep, there’s no way I can take a 30 minute nap. I end up sleeping hard, but for some reason my dumb ass always thinks “this time will be different”. Hahaha!

Besides the whole “doctor sticking her hand in my vagina” part, it was a good day because I wasn’t working and had the day off… from pretty much everything. Except my never-ending laundry. And dishes. And more laundry. And picking up around the house. But you get my meaning.

Before my pap, I was going to get a mani/pedi (my fingers and toes are screaming for one), grab some takeout from Chiptole, and make sure I shaved my legs. A day of bliss.

When I got back home, I set my alarm for 10:30 am. Easy peasy.

I set my actual alarm clock because if I use my iPhone, I’ll just think it’s someone calling and ignore it. What? Just saying the truth!

10:30 am: Beep… beep! I hit the snooze button. What’s 10 minutes? I can still get everything done in the amount of time I have.

10:40 am: Beep… beep! Hitting the snooze button again. My pillow is awesome and I’m not getting out of bed. I can still get everything done if I don’t screw around and I go straight to the nail salon.

10:50 am BEEP! Too cozy to get up. I’ll just sleep for another 20 minutes and skip the manicure.

11:10 am: Beep!!!! Umm… I don’t really need to shave my legs, right? Zzzzzzzz.

11:30 am: Oh shit! What have I done?? Priorities, girl! I don’t need Chipotle for lunch after all. But my toe nails… ewwww! I have to get those done. Getting up now!

11:31 am: Ooooh, I love my pillow!! Zzzzzz.

11:50 am: How in the fuck did I hit the snooze button for this long??!!! I need to get my ass uuu…. ppp…. zzzzzzz.

12:30 pm: Oh, it’s 12:30. WHAT?! It’s 12:30!!! I’ll be lucky if I can put on deodorant and clean my lady parts with some baby wipes. I’m definitely not going to wear my Uggs (Yes, they’re ugly as hell but I love mine! So cozy!! Also, you don’t need to wear socks with them.) I have to wear my socks and tennis shoes.

Sidenote: Because of my need for a pedicure, only both of my big toes still have a little nail polish on them. The others? Zip. I know, ick. I’m too lazy to take off what little paint I have on my big toes.

12:35 pm: Brush my teeth, put on my watch, run downstairs, and put on my Uggs. D’oh!

1:00 pm: Get taken back to the exam room, strip down, put on the tissue thin gown, and sit on the edge of the exam table.

1:15 pm: Start to quietly sing my own made up song… ” Where the hell is my doctor? Why isn’t she here? My cootchie is sweating, and I need a beer.”

1:20 pm Still waiting and sweating big time. Start thinking that my thin tissue paper gown will actually be the size of a tissue by the time my doctor walks in.

1:22 pm: Seriously???!!

1:24 pm: Look down at my toes and find that they look even worse in a floresent lit room. Wish I wore socks. I’m really hoping my doctor doesn’t notice my toe nails.

1:25: She FINALLY walks in. We have polite chit-chat, she asks about my daughter, then more polite but kind of awkward “soon this woman will have her hand in my vagina” chit-chat.

She tells me to scootch to the end of the table and put my feet in the stirrups. My dignity plummets. While I’ve never had a problem opening my legs before, especially in high school… sorry mom, my legs are locked together.

She opens my legs… my dignity extinguished, adjusts my left foot into the stirrup, looks at me, and says “I love the nail polish on your toes!”

D’oh!

Comments { 1 }

My first thought was “Fuck me gently with a chainsaw!”

By Elle on March 22, 2013 in a glimpse into my mind, anxiety, depression, doctor stuff, hold me, holy hell, hubby, mommyhood, my brain is melting, the little hummingbird, wtf?

Making sure she has the essentials for her hospital stay, including her drill.

So, as you may know, the little hummingbird was hospitalized at Stanford for an 18 hour controlled fast a few weeks ago (thank you all so much for the support!). I’ve had the hardest time writing about if because it triggers my postpartum PTSD but I’m forcing myself anyway.

We had to get up at the butt crack of dawn the day of to get to Palo Alto and I was in a panic the whole time. While waiting to be taken back to her short stay room, my husband was turning in paperwork and my xanax that I took earlier was kicking in.

Then, out of nowhere, this major hottie comes out into the waiting room and he was asking for the hummingbird. Apparently they put her down as a male so he went up to a little boy who was playing by the bird.

I was trying to get the words out that the hummingbird was my daughter but oh my lawdy, this male nurse was so unbelievably hot. He was tall, dark, and handsome and looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ magazine.

Seriously people, this guy was fucking gorgeous.

The hot male nurse. Oh, yeah!

Then he introduced himself and said that the hummingbird is his only patient for the day and I was thinking halle-fucking-llujah and heard angels singing.

The hot male nurse was the perfect remedy for this panicky, stressed out mama.

Long story short, the poor hummingbird had her poor fingers pricked to death for most of the day. Finally at the 17th hour of the fast, her blood sugar started dropping and they were able to get the vital blood work that was needed.

Then, to get her blood sugar up, the hot male nurse gave her a shot of glucagon. It’s the stuff we’ve had on hand for years in case her blood sugar drops really low. We’ve never had to use it before though.

Sticker fun!

Guess what? This shit didn’t work and her blood sugar dropped even further. That’s when the room started to fill with more doctors and nurses and I was about to flip the fuck out because that was my biggest fear. That her blood sugar would drop really low and they wouldn’t be able to bring it back up.

I had to step out of the room for a few to try to pull my shit together but I was in tears.

They tried another shot of glucagon after 15 minutes and nothing happened. That’s when they got out the sugar-water and finally her blood sugar started going up to normal levels.

Whew!

Finally the hummingbird was stable but we had an appointment with her doctor at Stanford the next day so we stayed in a hotel that night.

First we hit a Mexican restaurant so this mama could down some margaritas and then we had to listen to an older couple in the booth behind us have this huge argument. It was intense and the guy was dropping f-bombs like crazy.

Sure, my favorite word is fuck but damn, he was doing it in a public place with families all around. It took all I had not to say something to this guy.

Come to mama!

Back at the hotel, the hummingbird wasn’t quite sure of her new surroundings for the night. The hubby and I were about to drop dead from the stress and exhaustion from the day and the hummingbird just wanted to zoom around the room.

I was crashed on the bed and woke up to the bird running around the room and turning on and off the lamps. Then she would run to the cheapo microwave, turn it on (it was on defrost) with the knob, let it run for a few seconds until it beeped, and she would continue this routine several times.

Finally when we got her to bed, she slept with me and I spend the night with her kicking the shit out of me. That girl is a violent little sleeper.

The next day, we went to see her doctor at Stanford and we found out after all of this time of thinking she’s hypoglycemic, she’s actually not but could have something that’s similar but rare.

My first thought after hearing this was “Fuck me gently with a chainsaw!” and it took all I had to not blurt it out in front of the doctor.

Her doctor really has no idea what could be wrong and now we are back to square one. She’s contacted a metabolic specialist at the children’s hospital in Philadelphia and that’s where we are at now.

The one new thing they want us to do though is give her uncooked cornstarch every night before bed. It’s a carb that slowly releases into the blood stream that can help prevent the occasional dips in the hummingbird’s blood sugar.

The real kicker is that they want us to build up and give her four fucking tablespoons at night and mix it in yogurt or pudding.

Yes, four fucking tablespoons. Ummm, we haven’t succeeded yet and I’m not at all surprised. That shit is nasty, yo.

So, while we thought this fasting and hospitalization was going to give us more answers, we are now left with more questions than ever. Fortunately the little bird has been back to herself and we haven’t had any issues with her blood sugar dropping yet.

She has a 4th birthday coming up next month and is so excited. I very much welcome the distraction from all of these medical issues.

Plus, damn, that hot male nurse really helped. Also, everyone at Stanford was excellent!!

Comments { 7 }

The Panic: Postpartum PTSD

By Elle on March 2, 2013 in anxiety, depression, doctor stuff, postpartum ptsd

*This post is probably a jumbled mess. I couldn’t read it back. It was so hard for me to write it because I was still a little panicky. Okay, a lot. If you’re dealing with postpartum ptsd, this may cause some triggers. Here is my original story that I wrote last year.

It was supposed to be a simple doctor’s visit for the hummingbird last week. She had pink eye, I know, ick, and I knew it would be an easy visit to her pediatrician who would most likely prescribe eye drops and send us on our way.

I usually try to have my husband come along to appointments for the hummingbird but this time it was just me and her.

Two hours before her appointment, the panic started. I tried to distract myself so the hummingbird and I started to play with her kitchen toys. Then the panic and anxiety got worse. I started to feel really nauseous and my heart started racing.

An hour before her doctor’s appointment, I was a fucking mess. My heart felt like it was going to thump out of my chest and my thoughts become so irrational. I was worried that once we got to the doctor, they would find something really wrong with the hummingbird and I’d have to leave her there, just like after she was born and had to spend 3 weeks in the NICU for low blood sugar.

The panic and nausea became so bad that I threw up, twice. I was trying so hard to keep it together and took my anti-anxiety medication. It never really kicked in and the panic grew stronger.

20 minutes before we were supposed to leave for the appointment, I was such a fucking mess. I was shaking, my thoughts were irrational, and it got to where I was about to call my husband to see if he could come home so he could take the hummingbird to the doctor.

He’s never really understood what I go through with postpartum ptsd and I decided not to call him after all.

Then the panic really hit its peak and I wanted so badly to call the doctor’s office and reschedule the appointment so my husband could take the hummingbird instead.

I felt like such a horrible mother. My child needed to see the doctor and here I was trying to get out of taking her.

I kept on telling myself to pull my shit together and rounded up the hummingbird. My hands were shaking so bad as I tried to zip up her jacket and I finally gave up.

We arrived at the doctor’s safe and sound but as I was unbuckling my daughter out of her car seat, I stopped for a minute. I desperately wanted to go back around to the driver’s side, hop in, and go back home.

It took all I had to force myself to get her out of the car and make the walk to the doctor’s office.

I completely blanked out from the time I got the hummingbird out of the car until we were about to open the door to the office. I honestly can’t remember anything about those few minutes.

All I know is when we walked into the office, I was carrying her and holding onto her for dear life. I didn’t want to set her down or let go of her but she found a toy in the waiting room that caught her eye.

Finally we were brought back to the exam room and I really thought about telling the medical assistant that I was in the middle of a panic attack and wanted to ask her if she could help talk me down from it.

Then I was worried that I would sound crazy because after all, it was just a simple visit to the doctor. The shaking started up again and I fumbled with the hummingbird’s jacket and shoes so the medical assistant could get her weight and height.

While waiting for the doctor, it felt like my face was on fire, my hands couldn’t stop shaking, and my mouth became so dry that when the doctor finally came into the exam room, it was hard for me to get much out.

My irrational thoughts started to invade my head again and I became so worried that the doctor would think that I was fucked up on drugs and call the police.

I know. It was completely irrational thinking and I even knew it at that time but with me in a panic and my mind racing, I was worried this doctor would somehow become a fucking mind reader and think I’m an unfit parent.

The doctor asked me a few more questions about when the pink eye started and I was barely able to make out the words and speak.

Finally, we were able to leave that fucking place and we safely went back home.

It took me several hours to calm down after the appointment. I even got to the point where I seriously thought I would give myself a heart attack because the panic and anxiety was so bad.

This is what I deal with whenever I take my daughter to the doctor. This is also why I try to get my husband to go with us since the intensity of the panic and anxiety I feel isn’t as extreme with him there.

This is Postpartum PTSD.

Comments { 4 }

No Radioactive Bunnies Were Harmed In The Making Of This Post. It’s Also A Ranty Post About Military Medical Healthcare.

By Elle on January 10, 2013 in doctor stuff, military, would you like some cheese with your whine?, wtf?

So, I’ve been doing the radiation therapy and oy vey, I’ve been so wiped out. The long commute doesn’t make it any better. In really disappointing news, I haven’t come across any radioactive bunnies during my treatment. Such a bummer.

One really glaring realization is that the hospital I’m going to is exceptional. If you don’t know already, I’m a Navy wife with the crappiest insurance.

Yes, the insurance is for the most part free but you get what you pay for. I’ll tell you right now, it’s a sad state affairs when the men and women serving this country and risking their lives get screwed over when it comes to health care.

I had my daughter at a military hospital which was one of the worst experiences of my life. Sure, I might sound like a drama queen but these are the facts.

I’ve heard people say they just assume the military gets excellent health care. Wrong! Now, I’m sure millions out there will disagree with me but military healthcare blows. No, we don’t pay much but there have been several military medical fuck ups not only that I’ve been through, but also my daughter, and my husband.

Tricare, get your shit together. That goes for Walter Reed and the Bethesda Naval Medical Center aka, “the president’s hospital”. Sure, our government gets top notch care when going there but the people doing the real work and putting their lives on the line have to deal with bad attitudes and incompetent doctors.

Wow, I wasn’t expecting to go in this direction with this post. What I really wanted to say was that it’s so amazing to finally go to a hospital outside of the military and be treated with compassion.

Comments { 4 }

Halle-fucking-lujah, the holidays are over!

By Elle on January 3, 2013 in a glimpse into my mind, doctor stuff, this and that

My husband is finally back at work and the little hummingbird is back to her few days a week at preschool. WOO HOO! Sure, family time is nice ~~for about an hour~~ but having my husband home day after day ruined my every day flow of ~~zoning out and watching movie channels~~ getting shit done around the house.

Yesterday I had to get set up for my radiation treatment and they had to make a mask of my face. I’m really claustorphobic but was xanaxed out like my doctor recommended so I had some Ryan Gosling daydream time.

I officially start my treatment on the 9th of this month and with it being 10 days, with the exception of the weekends, I’ll be done with the treatment on the 22nd. Holy fucking hell, that makes it sound so long.

I’ve gotten some AMAZING posts from you and if you’d like to give guest posting a try or want to try a “your mommyhood” post, go for it and *email me. Don’t let fear stand in your way and give it a go. It’s the new year! Get out of your comfort zone.

Also, dear friends, I wanted to thank you for reading. This blog has taken me places I never dreamed I’d go and it’s thanks to you.

I hope the holidays didn’t kill you and you came out of it alive.

*elle dot mommyhood at gmail dot com

Comments { 5 }

Hospital

By Elle on November 16, 2012 in doctor stuff, the little hummingbird

The hummingbird’s blood sugar dropped really low Thursday morning and she was taken to the ER.

We really hope they can figure out this time around why this happens. She’ll most likely stay until Saturday, if not for a few days longer than that.

The last time her blood sugar was like this was back in March.

Before that, it was right after she was born. I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to have no clue what’s causing this.

If I could, I would kick it in the balls.

Thankfully, she’s doing much better and getting into some of her regular mischief.

Comments { 6 }

50 Shades Of Red

By Elle on July 13, 2012 in a glimpse into my mind, anxiety, depression, doctor stuff, the little hummingbird, the really real me

I am painfully shy. That’s why I’ve always been so drawn to writing, because I can say what I really feel. It gives me confidence.

I’m also big on blushing which then starts this cycle of getting even more embarrassed and blushing more. That’s when I start wishing that I could just be invisible.

What I usually don’t tell people is that I actually have social anxiety. It goes way beyond just being shy. For me it can get me so anxious in social situations that I’m paralyzed with fear.

About 10 years ago I had my first episode with depression which made my social anxiety worse, again starting a cycle. The more depressed I was, the less I wanted to leave the house.

Not because I didn’t want to go out but because I felt so exposed. Like all of my insecurities, emotions, and vulnerabilities were a flashing sign to the world.

The depression and anxiety became so bad, it took all I had to even leave the house to check the mail. I would cringe when the phone rang, fearing the person from the outside world.

It took time to find the right medical support and treatment for it. The worst part was just picking up the phone to reach out.

The very first doctor I told my irrational fears to replied with “So, what? You don’t like people?”

That’s not what social anxiety is about. Okay, I do prefer animals to people, heh, but social anxiety for me is about thinking of all the dumb things I might say in a social situation, or doing something that embarrasses me. It just feels 1,000 times more intense than just some shyness here and there.

I finally found an understanding doctor and while I may not be the life of the party, I’m pushing myself more to simmer down all of my irrational thoughts I have in social situations.

There are still days even now when I have to give myself a pep talk just so I can do something as simple as go to the grocery store. The thing is, when you have social anxiety, doing those everyday things aren’t simple at all.

I know I’ll most likely be dealing with social anxiety for the rest of my life but I’m going to do my best to slowly crawl out of my shell. Writing about it is a good start.

Do you get nervous in social situations?