Saturday, October 30, 2010

This is NOT the Jayne you're looking for...

As you may have figured out by now, PJ (see what I did there?) isn't feeling well today - what with having an organ removed and all - so I, her Husband, will be the substitute "Jayne" for this post.

I've had the privilege of being a (very) behind-the-scenes player in this blog since the beginning,  as either an over-the-shoulder proof-reader (she loves that), or an occasional source of inspiration (I was a Slutty Bee. I regret nothing.), but  I think it'll be fun giving the actual writing a try.

Having just read my last sentence, I can tell this is going to suck. You have my condolences: PJ will be back soon, I promise. Let's get this show on the road.

Obviously, the surgery went as expected: completely laproscopic, no complications, etc. There was a small surprise, but we'll get to that in a bit. Let's start the timeline, shall we?

The day starts at 5:30 AM.

This, as you may already know, is not a good time of day for my Wife. In fact, she'd like to believe that mornings start around 10, but our son has confirmed that the ass-crack of dawn is a perfectly acceptable time to wake up.

We make our way to the hospital, and arrive right on time at 7:00 so that we can get prepped for the 9:00 surgery. I notice very few people in the waiting room: good sign, I think. I'm an idiot, so you can guess how this actually turned out.

Three hours later, they wheel her off to the operating room.

Side Note: after spending several hours in a surgical waiting room, I can safely say that Grey's Anatomy is full of shit. I saw dozens of doctors, and there was no McDreamy, no McSteamy, no McNothin'. Well, there was McDumpy, McSchlumpy, McUgly, and McSurly.

Since I'm about as useful as an underwater bicycle at this point, and I'm not going to be needed for another two hours, I decide to get something for breakfast. Not three minutes after I leave the parking lot, I get a call from her surgeon. From the operating room. While she's on the table. Fuck.

Turns out, he found an Umbilical Hernia, and he needed to let me know before he fixed it. How courteous.

Admittedly, I can't really give him any crap, because this guy was clearly very good at his job: he caught an extra problem, fixed it, AND removed the offending Gallbladder in less than an hour. It usually takes me longer to make frickin' spaghetti.

So, at 11:00, I head back to the hospital, and wait for her to get out of recovery.

And wait.

And wait...

And wait.

Seriously? What the hell is going on back there? Cripes, how long has it been?

...Half an hour? Oh. Ok. Well, I'll just sit back down, then. Sorry about that. How long's this supposed to take, again? Hour? Hour and a half? I can handle that.

Three hours.

We got there at 7:00, and left at 2:00. I didn't care; I was just happy to get my Wife back. My sweet, delirious, high-as-a-fucking-kite Wife. She's a peach when she's on drugs - she really is. Remarkably friendly. Cute as button. And funny as hell.

Knowing full well what was in store, I took a video of our conversation during the car ride home. I was originally going to post and/or transcribe it here, but frankly, it just doesn't translate, and PJ would flay me alive if it found its way onto the interwebs. Suffice it to say, it is awesome, and if anyone wants to see it, give me a buzz.

But just so everyone gets a sense of what I had the joy to witness, just imagine a four year old (her voice gets really high-pitched when she's under the influence; no idea why, but it's awesome.) juxtaposing questions about the existence of her own belly button with discussions of I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant, Cotton Balls and Death (sounds like an amazing band), and graham crackers. It was beautiful.

Anyway, that's all for now - thanks for tolerating me while you could, and JPJ will be back next post!

Thursday, October 28, 2010

365 Days of Sunshine.

My little O is one today! He has been on this earth for an ENTIRE year.

How did this happen?! I was warned about the speed at which his babyhood would pass me by, and even so- It takes my breath away...

My Darling Bubu,

Happy Birthday, Love! You don't know what birthdays are yet, but you will!
And you're gonna loooove them!
A birthday is the day that your family and friends celebrate the day that you were born-showering you with joy because of the happiness your birth has brought them. Plus? There's always cake and ice cream....

The day you were born was the most amazing day of my life. It was what I had been waiting for-for a very long time. MORE than worth the wait!! You are the most beautiful little boy I have ever seen, but more than that, you have a beautiful heart. I know that you will grow up to be a good man. You always make me proud. You've given me a peace and a joy that I never thought was possible. You make me laugh every single day, and I am sooooooo lucky to be your Mommy.

I promise to do my best to be worthy of this honor. We may not always agree or see eye-to-eye. There are times where we will be angry at each other, or make one another sad, even though we didn't mean to...whatever happens, know that I love you. I will always do everything in my power to make you feel safe, secure, happy and loved. My love is, and always will be, unconditional. Nothing you can ever do will make me love you less. I promise to listen, to share, to hear you. I will make mistakes, (but you'll learn that we all do) and I will strive to learn from those mistakes so I can be an even better Mommy.

You are never a burden or obligation, you are a gift. You are my 365 days of Sunshine. I can't ever thank you enough.

Happy First Birthday, Sweetpea! You have so many to come, and I'm so excited to see the fantastic person you will be with each passing one. I love you with all the love in the WORLD.



One Day...


Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Ain't that a kick in the Teeth?

As my lovely readers may have figured out, things have been a little less than rosy around here...

I can't really say it's lookin' up.

Monday, I got a notice from Medi-Cal that my Share-of-Cost coverage was terminated as of the 1st of October.

Ummmm, come again?!

I have a SURGERY scheduled on Friday. THIS FRIDAY.

Immediately filled with the urge to vomit, I tried not to panic. There's was nothing I could do until the next morning...

My fervent hope is that I would call Medi-Cal and it would all be some silly misunderstanding...
Ooops! "Silly Us!" They would say.


My insurance is canceled. As I am no longer pregnant, O is no longer an infant and I happen to be married, we no longer qualify for squat.

Our income is "too high" (tell that to our bank account) and we are an "in-tact" family, therefore ineligible for aid.

Since when is being a stable family a bad thing?
It is in the eyes on Medi-Cal.

I was able however, to skim under the radar somehow, and since my surgery was already approved, it will be covered with the $2000 co-pay.

BUT, any medical care costs or anything related to the surgery/post-op that occurs AFTER the 31st of October will be our responsibility 100%.


Please cross your fingers for me that the surgery goes smoothly and is laproscopic, so it can be considered an out-patient procedure. If they have to go in all Mash-style, I'll be laid up in the hospital for a few days, and we don't have that kind of scratch....

Hey, did I mention that we also need a new car? SchWEET.

PS. O's Birthday Bash was Fab! I will post as SOON as I get all the pictures!

Friday, October 22, 2010

I just checked on my son...

Asleep. So sweet and innocent.

I love him. To the point where it's often hard to breathe- because the sheer enormity of the love I have for him feels like it might overwhelm me...

He is what I have dreamed of.

He is what I have lost...
and found again.

Tomorrow is his first birthday party. His actual birthday is Thursday.

I can't believe we've already come to the year-mark.

It feels like yesterday-yet, since the beginning of time?

It's been quite the journey....

Tonight as I brushed his hair from his forehead, I was reminded of this:

For my Child-Whom I shall never meet.


Watching you sleep puts the world
In perspective

There is peace
(however fleeting)

Cynicism has no place
Where you dream

I will lie beside you
And find

(December 17th 2003)

It is strangely just as true now as I wanted it to be then.
Which is oddly comforting.

Goodnight, my Darlings.

Gall-Gate 2010: The Final Showdown

Woke up at 2 (after falling asleep at 12:30ish) with another gall bladder attack.

Complete with nausea!
Been up since then!


I think this makes I think this rounds me up to a solid ten.

No big deal, right?

Who doesn't love a wake up call O' pain?

Me, that's who.

But that bastard's days as my gall bladder are numbered.

Surgery is set for next Friday.


I'm relieved freaked.

What if I die?

Who will take care of my boys?
Totally not how I wanna go out!
Death by gall bladder?

That's just insulting. Thankyouverymuch!

(I know I probably WON'T die, but neuroses are hard to control on no sleep)

The surgeon hopes to do it via laproscopic, but won't know 'til he's all up in there whether I'll have to be filleted or not...

...So waking up will be all surprisey and stuff.

Yay Surprises!

PS. The GastroGuy called and it looks like I don't have colon cancer/ulcerative collitis/Celiac disease/etc. It's just probably Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Could I BE any sexier right now? Honestly.

PPS. Question: Why are my insides so effing pissy? Whatta bunch of Bitches.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

The "D" Word.

No, not Divorce.

(Calm down, Querido.)


I am depressed. As much as it PAINS me to admit it, it's true.

Tuesday night, I woke up in the middle of the night to pee...You know, like ya do...

As I sat down to take care of business in the silent darkness of 2am, I just lost it.

I sat there sobbing like a child for a good 30 minutes, desperately trying to muffle myself so I wouldn't wake the Husband or the Boy.

Unfortunately, I DID wake my Hubs, who panicked and wanted to know what was wrong.

I couldn't answer...

Nothing? Something? Everything? ME?

We got back into bed and he held me while I cried some more.

As the tears subsided and his snores started, I realized that I was depressed.

(I know-I'm THAT quick)

SuperFuckingSadExhaustedAngryOverwhelmingly DEEEEpressed.

I mean, I've battled depression my whole life, so I know the signs, but I kept finding ways to tamp it down or skirt the issue...I don't have time to be down, G-ddamnit! I'm already Physically DOWN as it is.

But that's the funny thing about depression. It doesn't give a SHIT about what you want or have going on, it's going to take root anyway.

Sometimes I can fend it off, sometimes I can't.
And I don't like talking about it.

The subject makes people nervous, and they spout superficial platitudes at you in an effort to help, but instead just culminate in you feeling like an ungrateful asshole.

I loathe feeling this way.
I'm good during the day, as I have to be. I can put on that happy face.

But at night, after everyone goes to bed,

Even the Hubs is depressed.

We're a sad lot around here. No pun intended...HA!

We just have so much stacked against us, and we need help, but no help is coming.

Instead, we just get "shoulded" to death, with no practical applications (or resources) as for how to fulfill that list...

We're barely treading water, but if we were "responsible" we'd be doing more...

It's enough to drive a person crazy. Oh, Wait......

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

NOH8. Today or EVER.

In honor of GLBT Spirit Day, This is my Facebook Status Today:

Rock your purple today, friends. Adults and CHILDREN across the country (the world) are suffering abuse and dying due to hatred, intolerance, and hopelessness. NOT because of their own "choices". It is NEVER okay for a person, let alone a child, die or be tortured because they are different. To all of the GLBT community out there: I support you and ♥ you! Stay strong. You are not alone. You are not forsaken.

I stand by that statement. Wholeheartedly. I cannot and DO NOT believe that homosexuality/being transgendered is a choice.

{I know the scriptures, I do. Please refrain from bombarding me with them.}

I'll say it again:

I believe with every fiber of my being that it is not a choice. Nor is it a mistake, a mental illness, or an abomination.

It is as natural as my heterosexuality.

If that offends you, that is your choice.

I am not going to attempt to change your mind-just stating mine.

I will ask this though of those who don't support Gay Rights/The GLBT community:

Despite your personal opinions or religious convictions, find it in your heart to show some support today for the kids who have died or are struggling because of anti-gay bullying/torturing.

They were not/are not degenerates trying to tear the moral fabric of society or dethrone whatever G-d you follow, they are CHILDREN who are trying to find out who they are. Where they fit, and what love is.

They are your children and they are mine. They deserve our love, support and protection.

They deserve Hope. Not Hate.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Eviction Notice.

For my gall bladder, that is.

I FINALLY saw the general surgeon yesterday morning and he said its gotta come OUT.

This makes me relieved and nervous at the same time.

I'll be glad to not have gall attacks anymore (I was in the ER AGAIN last Saturday), but surgery always is a little risky...

Will it be fine? I'm sure it will, but having O has made me a bit of a NervousNellie.

The surgery hasn't been scheduled, the surgeon has to get approval from Medi-Cal first. I hope it goes smoothly and speedily so this I can get this mess over with!

I still haven't gotten the results of the biopsies they did during my colonoscopy, so there's no updates on that yet.

[I did file a complaint, btw. Just a written one-I had no desire to get all sue-y about it, I just wanted to make sure it was documented so it hopefully won't happen to someone else]

I never heard from the Uro guy after that craptacular appointment, so I'm thinking I'm going to have to find another one and start that process all over again.

But, while having the bladder of an incontinent octogenarian isn't exactly sexy, it ain't life-threatening, so I'm putting it on the back burner 'til the gallbladder/colon/stomach sitch is figured out.

Other than that,
I'm exhausted.
Fighting off a bout of depression.

I lay awake at night wondering how we're going to weather all of this financially.

Weirdest of all, though?

I really want to have another baby.

I KNOW. I must really be going off the deep-end...

I think I'm just afraid we won't be able to try for another one before the option is taken away from me health-wise...?

I know that I am super-lucky to have one healthy baby, and I'm not trying to be greedy, but I know that the Hubs and I would be sad if we didn't at least try to have a sibling for O.

Anyhoo-in happier news:

O's FIRST BIRTHDAY party is on Saturday!

(I'm having a hard time accepting that he'll be 1 soon.)
I'm excited, but WORRIED. We had planned to have it in the backyard, but with the weather being all torrential, I don't think that's happening...and my IL's downstairs isn't exactly "kid-friendly."

I know O won't give a rip, but I just want it to be a special day.

Cross your fingers!

I'll post about the festivities next week!!!

Friday, October 15, 2010

You kinda never forget.

Today is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

So many people in my life have lost a child(ren), through miscarriage, SIDS, and stillbirth, and it's so important to remember those losses and honor those children.

I know that it's not a comfortable subject for a lot of people, but it's a real one that families (especially the mothers) deal with every day.

No matter what others may believe, no matter how early (or late) the loss was, to the mother, he/she was a baby.  

Their baby.

But because the people in their lives often want them to move on and (with the best intentions) forget, it is a pain that gets bottled up for fear of upsetting others.

If you know someone who has suffered this loss, send them some love.

If you've lost, my heart is with you.

My first child would have been born on March 9th, 2004
We said good bye at 12 weeks.

My second child would have been born on April 16th, 2007
We said good bye at 6 weeks.

They would have been six and a half and three and a half.

I never really got to know them, but I love and still miss them.

Every day.

Sometimes it's fleeting, and sometimes it's overwhelming.

My son has served as both a salve and a reminder.

A beautiful thing.

He cannot replace the children I lost (yet he fills my heart with so much joy and gratitude for his gorgeous little face), but he can remind me to never forget the miracles that they were.

In remembrance of those that have lost, please light a candle tonight at 7pm.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

DUDE. That was.... so.not.okay.

Let's talk about this morning...

I'm not even going to get into the preparations that were required for this event.

[Let's just say that no one ever wants to pee outta their ass. It's just not sexy.]

So we arrived bright and early to the hospital at 8am this morning.

I was hungry and exhausted.

I get in there and they start the prep and the nurse informs me that not only are they scoping my "back door," they'll be scoping my throat...

I was not aware of this.

After a brief panic, I quieted my flight response by reminding myself of the heavy sedation.

Everyone I know that has had a colonoscopy said that they felt nothing and remembered even less.

It was going to be all anesthesia and roses!

Well, my friends:


I felt EVERYTHING and remembered EVERYTHING.

I kept trying to tell them that something was not right as I cried out in pain, but they kept reassuring me that I had been given plenty of sedation, and any more would be dangerous.

[I honestly don't know if they just didn't give me enough, or if my drip just wasn't effective-I can't tell you what the hell happened, but I was not sedated properly.]

So trying not to sob*, I got through the rest.

When I asked if they were already done with the throat portion, the nurse cheerfully replied:

"See, Honey? You were sedated, you don't even remember that we did it."

Oh, I remembered, lady. It was just quicker than I thought, and I was afraid there might be more.

By the end, as the fear subsided, I was pissed.

When they read the after-care instructions to me and the Hubs before the procedure, we were told that I would be so out of it that I wouldn't even be able to dress myself, and we need help getting up/going to the bathroom for the REST of the DAY.

Out of it, you say? I think NOT.

IMMEDIATELY after the procedure, I slammed back two cups of apple juice, dressed MYSELF, gathered up my discharge papers and got the hell outta dodge.

I came home, ate some lunch, chatted with our baby sitter, changed my clothes and cuddled with my son.

I was as coherent as my intestines are long.


I don't know if I should file a complaint. I don't want to be *that* lady, but it was kinda horrifying.

I've been ill at ease all day.

I took some pain pills, and took a long nap, hoping I would wake up feeling better about the whole thing, but I'm still just as upset.

I am being overly dramatic?

I won't have any news about the outcome of the colonoscopy/throat scope until the results of the biopsies come back some time next week.

I'll keep y'all in the loop as I get more info.

*During my 2003 sexual assault, I was entered anally repeatedly, so I don't like anything being forced up my butt, medically necessary or not. Anything of that nature brings back things I'd rather not remember.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

You want to put What WHERE? And you want me to PAY you?

Latest on Gall-Gate '10:

So I have to have a colonoscopy....
(yeah, you want to be me, fo sho')

I'm not afraid, I'm just pissed.

It's undignified that I should have to pay $2000.00 for someone to shove a tuby camera up my ass.

You know what we really send me into oblivion? If I go thru all of this nonsense and they don't find a thing.

Not that I want something to be hideously wrong, but COME ON NOW.

They best find something....

At least the Gastro specialist was nice.

The Urology specialist was an asshat.

He wouldn't even listen to me. He was INSISTENT that my issues were because I was so "severely overweight" and because I didn't do enough Kegels.

When I pointed out that neither my OBGYN nor my PCP felt that weight was an issue, and both felt that I had bladder damage due to various occurrences, Mr. Pee King kept telling me to stop eating junk food and to make an effort to exercise...something I OBVIOUSLY wasn't doing.

Now, I'm not one to use the ..."But I'm big-boned" excuse. I know that I need to lose weight. But I'm not a rabid junk foodie who lays around all day, bathing in trans-fats. I am, however, someone who eats pretty damn healthily but put on a lot of weight due to trauma, being ill, taking different meds, and my metabolism shuddering to a stop...

And not to play the "placard card," but I have Cerebral Palsy and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

It's not like I can take a 5 mile jog to my advanced spin class and then Bikram Yoga pose my ass home.

(It takes all my energy to take care of my son and our little household.)

As SUCH- the generalization angers me. I realize that the "good doctor" is looking at it from a health perspective, but he took it several steps beyond (At one point he actually said the word fat and then caught himself a bit late) to disrespectful.

I'm no wisp of a woman, but I'm not Mama Grape, either.

In short, I need to see another Uro guy.

When I followed up with my PCP, he was PISSED. That made me feel a little better. lol...

[What didn't make me feel better? The $200 cost of my visit.]

In terms of my gall bladder, I've had a few more small attacks, but I'm still waiting for an appointment with a general surgeon, so no new progress on that. Boo.

So for those keeping score, here's what we've learned so far-

Jack and Shit.

That jewel of knowledge has cost me $4200 as of now, and I haven't even gotten my lab bills yet.

Oh, I almost forgot...

I also have a chest infection. Woo.

I'm *this* close to losing it.

But with this face looking at me,

I do my best to keep on keepin' on. We've gotta catch a break at some point.




Saturday, October 2, 2010

Just when I think I can't stands no mo', my Husband puts on a "Sexy Bee" Costume.

Oh, yeah.

It was something to behold, my friends....

So here's how it all went down:

We went shopping today for O's bday party (which is going to be a Halloween-themed bash, and we're encouraging all guests to get their costume on!) to take our minds off the current shitstorm we find ourselves in, and we picked up all KINDS of CUTE in terms of decor items and we also snapped up the makings of our costumes.

We decided that no matter what was going on financially, it was important for us as a family to make sure that O's big day was special, and celebrated with panache!

BUT, All on the Cheeeeeap.

That took some creativity, as these things usually do-

Using Blind Melon as inspiration; I decided I would dress up as a Bee.

It seemed like a bright, cheerful (I thought it'd be a nice change of pace for me, Eh?) thing to be, and seemed like a relatively easy get-up to cobble together.

I was all set to go except for the keyest of my Bee ensemble-the wings and antennae, aka "deelyboppers" according to the Hubs...

This just would NOT do!

No way I wanted to be mistaken for some sort of Drag-Charlie Brown.

(Although...interesting idea....)

So we set off on a search for my missing links...

We thought this was going to be a cheap and easy mission and we were soon proved wrong.

Nothing, nowhere, No HOW, unless we wanted to spend a ridiculous amount.

We'd just about given up, when we spotted a Bee costume in CVS (of ALL places?!) on a mega clearance rack and decided to give it a looksie...

It came with a dress, tights, arm warmers, wings, and of COURSE, deelyboppers. Plus?


Two problems though:

1. It was a "Flirty Bee" [Read: SLUTTASTIC and totally innapropos for my son's 1st bday party]

2. It was made for a delicately-boned Malaysian boy

But Husband had a stroke of ::Genius::

We'd buy the costume and cannibalize it for parts!


So home we went, VICTORIOUS.

As we got home though, I started to feel that old familiar surge of panic....

"We spent too much"
"We should return everything"
"That was irresponsible"

And so forth.

I'm trying to keep this all to myself, and fighting the urge to start crying over the absurdity of our lives at the moment when as if on cue-

I look up to see my husband shimmying himself into the "SexBee" outfit.

Complete with wings, and you guessed it, DEELYBOPPERS.

No joke. I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe.

(I still can't believe he shoved himself into could hear ripping as he moved...)


Tragically, he would not allow photographic evidence of any kind.

So just work the image out for yourself:

This Dude:

Parading around in this little number:
(Remember honey, you can find anything on the webnets)


And whatever picture you've got crafted in your mind?

Can't even TOUCH the real deal.

Maaaaan. I love my Husband.

I don't know how I'd make it without him....(and O, obviously.)...