Guess which doctor I went to see today? Go on, guess.
I can’t believe they let people drive after having their eyes dilated. And I’m relatively young and healthy. Do they let the rickety old people drive themselves home with dilated eyes, too? SCARY.
I learned something new when discussing invisible cat hairs with my ophthalmologist today, and my method for retrieving them from my eyeball. Did you know your mouth has more bacteria than your butt?
Yeah, the hole you poop out of is cleaner than your mouth. I will never again wet a Q-Tip by sticking it in my mouth before swirling it around in my eye to catch an invisible cat hair. No, instead I will squirt sterile eye wash on the Q-Tip and try not to think about how, before, I was putting something grosser than poop in my eye.
And you people who pop your contact out and spit on it or stick it in your mouth to “clean” it, then pop it back in your eye? CUT IT OUT.
So here I sit, thanking my lucky stars I escaped a slow and horrible death from advanced stage eyepoopitis, yet still annoyed that I have a painful hangnail but cannot see well enough to dig it out with a sharp object.
Perhaps I’ll go run with scissors instead. Or take a Vicodin for the debilitating hangnail pain then go out and operate heavy machinery.
I got on the stationary bike for twenty whole minutes after work today. It has a handy ledge that holds my iPad perfectly so the time just flew by, what with blogs and news and LOLCats to catch up on. Perhaps I will start making a habit of this exercise thing. I hear it’s good for you.
Only then I ate an entire DiGiorno’s flatbread pizza for dinner and half a chocolate Easter bunny for dessert.
I still have a few kinks to work out of my “get healthy” plan.
I stayed home from work today. I could have gone to the office, truth be told, but I needed a mental health day. I was, in fact, unwell in the wee hours of the night and in need of additional rest in the a.m. but could have dragged my sorry ass to work.
Then I thought, BUT WHY? I’ve been dragging my sorry ass to work seven days a week for the past three and a half months!
One of my favorite things about tax season is getting to use it as an excuse all year, first for four months – “I’m sorry, I can’t make it to little Bobby’s birthday party with dozens of screaming children, I have to work” – and then for the remaining eight – “I’m sorry, I can’t make it to Bobby’s graduation. Tax season sucks the life out of me so I only do things I actually enjoy the rest of the year.”
(No, I don’t know anyone with a child named Bobby. If you happen to have a child named Bobby and further happen to know me, this isn’t about you.)
Most people would worry about posting something like this on their blog. What if your boss reads it! Here’s the thing:
So after nursing several cups of tea, I finally got up the energy to tackle my Inbox. You know, the one I throw all my mail into and clear out each weekend. Only I kept skipping the clearing out part during tax season so the box was overflowing. Slicing open 50 envelopes resulted in a mere ONE piece of mail that actually mattered: my bank is switching its Quicken service so I had to deactivate then reactivate my online accounts.
Kind of important. A little disturbing they did not email me, since that is my preferred method of contact, and I almost THREW IT AWAY as junk mail. I wonder how many Wells Fargo customers are going to wake up on June 7th and wonder why they can no longer access their bank account through their software.
I did use two additional pieces of mail, but they were not actually necessary. One was the City of Merced water bill I can pay online but I have to MANUALLY go to the website and INPUT my payment. It used to be automatic but then they promoted Mr. Flintstone to head up online accounts, or something.
The second was an offer from Omaha Steaks telling me how much they missed me and providing a special offer JUST FOR ME. Unless of course someone gives you the direct link. And because I’m a sucker and they really do have yummy stuff (I’ll never eat store bought hamburgers again), I caved.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a stack of 20 magazines and catalogs to go through. Seventeen if I don’t count the three from AARP I deny receiving and throw directly into the recycling bin.
Lest you think my hair looks like crap when you see me, please know this is what I am dealing with:
This is my freshly washed hair after using only my fingers and a blow dryer to get as much moisture out of it as possible and before tackling it with a round brush and flat iron.
I thought you’d want to know.
I’m not sure why I feel compelled to refer to her as “my 82 year old mom” any time I write about her. I think I’m just happy the females in my family are long-lived (in general) and she deserves to be recognized for her octogenarian status.
BTW, I just looked it up and I am a quadragenarian, being in my 40’s. Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, does it?
My skin is much better, thank you baby Jesus!
I’m still not entirely sure what caused it but I suspect it was a combination of:
Maybe it had something to do with my new meds as well, but it’s likely too soon to tell. I went off them for 3 days and the hives cleared up but I still had the smaller red bumps.
Of course, it didn’t help that I COULDN’T STOP SCRATCHING THEM.
I did try.
I’ve been back on the meds for 6 days now, no hives yet, and I’m no itchier than normal, though Day One back on the meds was the day I came home to my own sheets.
I now use baby oil solely to clean out my ear wax and belly button lint, my sister had a remarkably smooth surgery and recovery, and I’ve been back long enough I no longer think it’s cute to be forced to stay in one position in bed so as not to disturb the cats who use me as a sleeping surface.
Huh. Maybe that’s how I ended up with a crick in my neck that makes my thumb go numb.
When in doubt, blame the cat.
Within the last week, I started feeling itchy. I thought to myself, well it is summer…and blazing hot…and air conditioning sucks the moisture out of the air…and you sweat and you dry and you sweat and you dry…so, duh, your skin is probably dry.
So of course, being me, I Googled “dry skin” to see if there was, you know, anything new only to discover I have been moisturizing wrong all these years. Wrong!
Did you know you are supposed to apply moisturizer right after drying off from the shower when your skin is still moist and your pores are still open? In fact, you’re not supposed to dry off completely before applying said moisturizer?
So I thought, hey, I’ll apply baby oil to my wet body after I shower rather than toweling dry, pat off the excess, then apply a moisturizing lotion after that.
But then this happened:
That’s my leg. Ignore the bruise. The red bumps aren’t so bad. It’s the lighter areas to which I want to call your attention. You can’t make it out very well but they look lighter because they are raised bumps I highly suspect are hives.
Here’s a closer shot of the same area. It’s still rather hard to make out but you get the gist: small red bumps interspersed among the larger hive-like bumps.
And then there’s my knee:
Yes, I am a pasty-white, out of shape, 40-something. However, I DO NOT generally have red splotches all over my pasty-whiteness.
Could it be the baby oil I used was, uh, rather old? It smelled fine. Hm. So I showered everything off last night and felt soothingly un-itchy.
For about an hour.
Then I remembered the itchiness started before I began using the baby oil and was, in fact, the reason I experimented with it in the first place.
The only thing I can think of is I am having an allergic reaction to one of the inactive ingredients in my new Wal-Mart prescription meds, which I started about a week ago. It must be the inactive ingredients because I took the Walgreens version for a month and didn’t have this reaction.
Sidebar: it never occurred to me drugs are essentially like cereal. Corn flakes, for example: each manufacturer uses unique packaging, food coloring, and non-corn flake additives, like nuts and granola, but it’s still corn flakes. Same with generic drugs: the active ingredients are identical. It is only the method of preparation and the inactive ingredients, like dyes and binding agents, that are unique to the manufacturer.
Sidebar Sidebar: Pre-Prozac, I would have felt overwhelmed that here is yet another thing I didn’t know and there’s so much knowledge out there how can we possibly keep track of it all? Post-Prozac, my reaction is, hey, wow, learn something new every day.
If it turns out I am allergic to an inactive ingredient in Wal-Mart’s version of the drug where I wasn’t with the Walgreens version, my excitement at discovering I can save $320 a year just by switching to Wal-Mart is for naught, and that would be tragic.
Oh wait, that would have been tragic, pre-Prozac. Now it’s just a bummer.
Though I would have to call my doctor’s office – again – and ask them to switch my prescription back to Walgreens and that’s a little embarrassing. But people on anti-depressants are expected to be a little crazy, right?
(Sung to the tune of The Brady Bunch)
Here’s a story, of a lovely lady,
Who was bring up two very lovely cats.
All of them were fine alone with just each other,
Except the mom was bats.
Here’s a story, of a lovely doctor,
Who was busy with a practice all her own.
She knew symptoms and the drugs you need to treat them,
And had a script pad all her own.
Till the one day when the lady met this doctor,
And they knew that it was much more than a hunch.
That this lady was depressed and needed Prozac.
That’s the way she soon became less of a grump.
Less of a grump, less of a grump.
That’s the way she soon became less of a grump.
I’d gotten so used to feeling crappy I didn’t realize how bad it was. I finally went to the doctor for my weird neck/shoulder/arm pain and mentioned oh, uh, by the way, I think about death a lot. Is that normal?
Now let’s get something straight: I was talking about death, NOT suicide. As a regular consultant of Dr. Google, I of course took a few online depression questionnaires only to discover they have a serious flaw. They all ask whether you have thoughts of death or suicide.
In one question.
Like it’s the same thing.
When you answer in the affirmative, they tell you to CALL THE SUICIDE HOTLINE IMMEDIATELY.
I never had thoughts of suicide. What I had were thoughts about how my mom is in her 80’s, my aunt died a few years ago, my cousin plus a good friend died a few years before that within a month of each other, and we’re all going to die one day. BUT I DON’T WANT TO DIE, WHY DO WE ALL HAVE TO DIE? Then I’d get sad and cry.
Another symptom was inappropriate anger. I am generally a cranky person anyway but everything pissed me off and I would seethe. Sometimes for days. You don’t want to do it my way? DIE BASTARD DIE!
Yeah. It was definitely time for medication.
I’ve been on it for 5 weeks now and it has made all the difference in the world. It takes the edge off. It’s like aspirin for your brain: it makes the symptoms go away but otherwise leaves you feeling normal. No head fuzziness. No tummy upset. Just a normal person with normal feelings and reactions.
You don’t want to do it my way? Well, bother. I am slightly annoyed but you’re an adult with a mind of your own and I’ll forget my annoyance in a few minutes. I’ll even dive into that project I’ve been putting off at work for months now with a new “I can do” attitude. “Ooh, a puzzle! I love puzzles!”