Where there's smoke...

After the depressing week we had last week, I was hoping for a calmer, less drama- and stress-filled weekend.  It kind of didn't work that way.  At all.

I ended up sleeping in pretty late on Saturday morning.  Which meant I managed to stay up pretty late on Saturday night.  Around midnight, I was feeling tired enough to go to bed, so I let the dogs out one last time.  While doing so, I noticed some small flames flickering in the window of a house under construction a block away.  I did a quick double-take, to make sure I wasn't imagining things, then told the Mister, "I think that house is on fire!"  He quickly came to the door and saw the same thing I did, so I called 911.  Their first question when answering is "What is the address of your emergency?"  So naturally I said, "I have no idea!  It's a house on Yellowstone, north of Durston."  I explained what we were seeing and the dispatcher told me they'd notified the fire department.
The 911 Communications center is located about 3/4 of a mile from our house, so it really didn't take long for them to get to the house.  Unfortunately, since the house was only framed up, with nothing but wood structure going on, the fire spread very quickly.  The Mister, being the Mister, grabbed his camera and ran out to get pictures.  I, on the other hand, grabbed my Flip and started to record what was happening from the safety of our back porch.



I edited the video to show the sparks being carried by the wind to the empty, weed-covered block just north of our house.
It was pretty unreal, what happened.  Yes, there have been some suspected-arson fires in the area in the past month or so, but I never imagined I'd be a witness to one.

Here are some of the pictures that the Mister took of the house on fire:

The occupied house right next to the house on fire was, thankfully, spared from catching on fire thanks to the firefighters.  A window was blown out and the newly-finished fence caught on fire, but other than that, I believe everyone in the house got out safely and the house itself wasn't damaged.

I've never in my life called 911 before.  It's not something I ever thought I'd have to do--I'd prefer to avoid all possible emergencies that could necessitate calling for help.  I think I was one of the first people who called in about the fire, so we got questioned a little about what we saw--if we saw anyone near the house when the fire started--but neither of us were any help in that regard.

I contacted a local news station to see if they were interested in the photos at all, and they were.  They also wanted to interview us about the recent fires--this property fire was only one of 4 that happened over the weekend.  So the Mister got to be on tv.

The news story on local newscast


That was certainly exciting all by itself.  But wait!  There's more!!  (oh, how I wish there wasn't)

Naturally, a lot of people in the neighborhood were woken by the chaos of the fire--the fire truck honked a few times as it came this way, the house itself made clanging and crashing noises as it burned--and so, since we live in the age of handy technology, other folks were taking pictures and videos of the fire as it happened.

The local fire department put some of the photos the Mister took on their website, along with someone else's.  (I'm not naming the someone else for obvious reasons)
Apparently the someone else, for unknown reasons, thought that the Mister had somehow managed to steal his photos and was taking credit for them.  So it was, this morning, that the Mister told me this guy was sending him harassing messages on Facebook, accusing the Mister of somehow taking his photos without his permission so he could take credit for them.
The Mister, being....well...the Mister, didn't really say "Hey, calm down, I don't know what you're talking about" but instead "Those are pictures I took with my camera, dumbass*".
(*all quoted material is paraphrased--not actual conversation)

And so it began.
The guy actually called our house to ask for the Mister, who was at work, and didn't want to leave a message.  I was still in the dark about what was transpiring at this point.  So I called the Mister to tell him he'd just gotten a call from someone asking for him at home (very peculiar) and he told me this guy on FB was harassing him.  And had now sent him a message saying, "Your wife sounds cute, I think I'll stop by and say Hi while you're out of town."
This was later followed with, "I'm going to go over to your house so your wife can give me a blowjob" as well as "Your wife is fat, and you're a loser" which eventually ended with "It was nice getting to know you, and your unattractive wife".  The ending was accomplished by the Mister blocking the guy on Facebook.
He also called the Mister's employer to complain about the Mister harassing him.

Needless to say, I got to call the cops again, thankfully on the non-emergency line.  I spoke with an officer about what was going on and she reassured me that what the guy was doing was NOT ok, she'd warn him and if he didn't heed her warning, we could press charges.  I just wanted him to leave us alone.

The scariest part of it--he actually complimented one of the pictures we had posted--after he'd harassed us!

I really, really hope crazy things can stop happening now.  I think my allowance of crazy things was filled a couple months ago.

Misery

I'm not usually someone who will write down all of the bad things, the negative things, the hard things that are going on.  I don't like to be depressed, I feel like I'm generally a rather optimistic person, even if things tend to drag me down every now and then.
I'm sure someday I'll look back at this time in my life and think that it only made me smarter/stronger/a better person.  But right now, it fucking sucks.
Right now, I want to just get it all out and over and done with, so I can hopefully move on.

I messed up this year.  Badly messed up.

The Mister was fired from his job the day after Christmas.  As of January 1, 2012 we were in a whole different stage of life.  Unemployed, uninsured, unmotivated.
Because of how well the Mister was paid, because of how unbelievably terrible my previous job was, I'd quit in June of last year.  At the time, we transferred to the Mister's company health insurance.  As of 1/1/12, we no longer had coverage.
Because of the fact that he'd always make more money than I would, in the business he's in, we decided I should wait to look for a job and see if he could get a job here so we wouldn't have to move to look for work.  It took a couple months, but he started at a new place on April 1.
In March, a friend told me about a possible job that was opening in local government, in her office, that I'd be perfectly qualified for--it was in my field, I had just the right amount of experience.  The only hitch--it wasn't going to be available for a few more months.
Since the Mister now had a job, and we had savings, I thought it'd be ok to wait for the new job.  I thought that it would be pretty stupid to go look for a job to last me a couple months, just enough time to get me trained, and then leave it to go for this other job.  I was sure I'd get the professional job--it was where I'd interned when I was in school, I was familiar with the office, it was a perfect job for me!
I contacted the person in the office in charge of the job and found out that they couldn't make the job announcement until the new budget went into effect--July 1.
In the meantime, the Mister's job wasn't as lucrative as his previous one.  Comparably, there was less stress at the new job, but more stress about money.  His wage was 60% less than he'd been making a year earlier.
July 1 came and went.  I waited patiently, and then impatiently, for the job to be posted.  Our savings was almost gone.  Yes, I know, hindsight is kicking my ass right now.
I found out the job wouldn't be posted until August or later, so I joined a temp agency.  I figured at least that way I'd still be available easily for the new job.
So, in August, I contacted a credit counseling organization.  We were going to be late on our mortgage payment for the first time.  I provided all the requested paperwork and we were told to wait to hear back.  Yes, the organization is non-profit, and trustworthy.
The job finally got posted, and while I had reservations about getting my hopes up by applying, I finally submitted my application in mid-August.  It was at this point that the ship started sinking...

The CC service didn't hear back from the mortgage company.  Apparently the package they'd submitted didn't go to the right department or something.  Earlier this month I was contacted by the mortgage company regarding the late payment.  I told them that we were working with a CC company to do a loan modification.  The mortgage company hadn't received any application for a modification on our account.  I called the CC company, told them what I'd been told, and the agent I'm working with told me that she'd re-send the package.  It wasn't officially received by the mortgage company until 9/11, a full 5 weeks after I originally gave the CC agent all the paperwork she'd requested.
Things in my friend A's life had been rocky earlier this month, problems with the kids, real-life stuff.  I feel like a wedge has been building between us and I don't know how to deal with the change in our friendship.
A week ago, my local close friend B called me to talk about her hard times.  She's a friend I've managed to keep since college--5 years ago--and we have a truly great friendship; we're both introverts, we both don't want/have kids, etc.  Just a lot in common.  Well, things have gotten shitty for her, so she's moving away.  The one person I know I can always rely on for a hug is leaving.  Ugh.
Then the eye thing happened.  That whole drama still isn't over.  In fact, it got worse this week.  While on lunch at my recent temp job on campus, I noticed a similar-looking spot in my vision--this time in my left eye.  The spots in my right eye had slightly diminished, though they're still there if I look for them.  The new spot in my left eye was very obvious.  Per doctor's orders, I called the eye doctor in town right away and they squeezed me in an hour after I called.  In the time between realizing I had a new problem and when I got to their office, I had a very mild panic attack.  I could breathe, but my chest felt tight and I couldn't focus on a damn thing.  So thankful that they only needed me for answering phones and directing (very few) walk-ins.
The doc ran a test, dilated my eyes, ran more tests and finally told me:  I see nothing wrong. The blood spots and swollen nerve in your right eye are no longer an issue and there's nothing I can see wrong with your left eye.  He once again suggested I see a neuro ophthalmologist.  I would, if I had insurance, or at least money to pay for it, but that's not happening right now.  I know that even if I did have the money, I'd still have to have someone there to drive me from whatever random rituals of torture the specialist would want to do to me--my eyes would likely be too fucked up to drive myself anywhere.
Because of my high blood pressure at the time, the doctor ordered me to go off my birth control pills, start taking a daily aspirin, and see my primary doc about something for my blood pressure.  I've stopped taking my 3-month cycle pills, started an aspirin if I don't already have a headache (stress likes to sit right in my shoulders), and the primary put me on a very light prescriptions for my blood pressure.

Now, as of today....
I'm a very, very unhappy basket case every month (instead of every 3)
I feel like I'm losing my closest friend (physically) and my closest friend (emotionally)
Financially, things are heading to the "extreme duress" category
And I officially got notice today that I'm not even going to be interviewed for the Dream Job.  I waited for nothing, for no reason.

Hindsight--yes, I should've gotten a job as soon as the Mister lost his.  And after he did get a job, I should've gotten a job then, rather than wait on the Dream Job.
I fucked up.  I fucked up really bad.

If I were a drinker, I'd be drunk right now.  If I were an emotional eater, I'd be binging.  Instead, I'm rather nauseated.  And I just want to go to bed.

Educational Living

As far back as I can remember, I loved school.  I don't know if it reflects back on me trying to be the opposite of my siblings so I can make Mom's life easier, or if I just took to school like an otter to water.  From an early age I was told by family that I was going to go to college.  It was just a given.
My brother rewarded me if I did well in a semester, especially if I made the honor roll.  I made the honor roll a lot.
Learning was fun to me.  Yes, there were subjects I didn't excel in, but for the most part I enjoyed school.  I didn't mean to be a teacher's pet, but I tended to be responsible and I liked most of my teachers, so I tended to thank them at the end of the year.  I was kind of a short adult.
Junior high was hard.  Not the classes--the classmates.  I was picked on and made fun of.  Kids can be such assholes.
In junior high, I discovered Home Economics and Art and Earth Science (though I was sure at the time that I didn't want a job in science).  I got to learn how to bake in Home Ec.  Something is greatly enjoy still.
Art was taught by my uncle, who wouldn't let anyone bully me in class.
And I got to TA Earth Science in 8th grade.  My teacher was a former classmate of my Mother's.  He was a goofy guy, and I really got a chance to start having fun in science.
By the time I'd reached high school, I was basically a goody goody.  I liked learning for the most part, possibly because I learned things easily or, if things were more difficult to grasp, I had good teachers.
At 18, I was ready to give college a try.  I got good grades in HS, mostly A's, and was pretty sure I'd be able to manage higher education.  Boy, was I wrong.

Everything in college was hard.  High school hadn't prepared me for the study habits necessary in college.  Unless I had a project to work on, I almost never had homework in HS.  In fact, I often studied for 5-10 minutes, total, before a big test, and still managed to pass easily.
In my first few college classes, I was supposed to read 50 or 60 pages of textbook before a lecture.  What had been almost too easy in the past was now scarily hard.  It didn't help that I was pining for the Mister at the time, either.
When I completed my freshman year of school in May of 2000, I ended up taking a year and a half off from school.  The Mister and I were first in Canada, then back in the states with me being the sole provider because he couldn't work due to immigration timing.
Finally we were able to move back to my college town and I finally re-enrolled in January 2002.  Slowly but surely, I developed study skills, and some people skills (to glean study skills from) enough to get my feet under me.  I declared my major and things took off for me.
Once I declared, I really started to feel good about school again.  It became, once again, something I enjoyed.  I'm sure there were plenty of times when I got frustrated, overwhelmed, and wanted to throw in the towel.  But I stuck it out and by the time I reached the upper-level classes of my major, I loved school.  I was able to learn things that really interested me, speak with others who had it in common with me, and even connect with a few of my professors.
I know my academic advisor was disappointed I didn't go into grad school--she knew how passionate I was about physical geography and really thought I'd be a great teacher.  By the time I graduated, I couldn't imagine sticking around longer and becoming masochistic enough to do grad school.

Which brings me to now....
Now, I've been out of school for 5 years.
Now, I still don't have a job in my field.
Now, I'm working mostly office jobs that don't seem to be satisfying my need to use my brain.
Now, I'm temping in an office on campus and the nostalgia of being back here is making me sigh with longing.
Now, I'm considering going back to school.  For another degree, not graduate school.
Now, I'm questioning my sanity.

I'm not saying that office work isn't difficult sometimes, but I still sometimes get very frustrated that I have a valuable education that I don't get to utilize in the office setting.  Such is the life for a lot of people in this town, I think.  We get the education, graduate, but want to stay because the town itself is so nice.
No matter what path I choose for myself, I know that I'm still young enough to find a career that I can spend a lot of years working in.  I just want to find one that doesn't make me think I wasted a lot of money and time on a useful, but under-utilized, degree.

Friendship

I have long held a selfish desire for a lifelong friend.  My mom has lifelong friends--she's regularly in touch with people she's known since before I was born.  Friends she can always rely on for a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, or someone to share a laugh with.
Likewise, in numerous movies, I've been shown how some people are able to be close across the country and through the years.  And so I've wanted it.

Unfortunately for me, there's been no lifelong friend.  I've had friendships here are there, but something always seems to pry the relationship apart.
Yes, I've got the Mister.  But sometimes I really want a non-related friend's perspective to remind me of sanity.

In high school, I was an unpopular kid.  I didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't do drugs, didn't sleep around.  I liked to stay home and read on the weekends.
I had a friend, a couple years older than me, who lost interest in me when she met her now-husband.  He partied, she liked him, so she partied.  It's high school, I can understand the immaturity of that relationship.
I had another friendship off and on in high school who put me down a lot.  I'd mention a decision, she'd claim she'd never do that.  She made fun of me with other people in her clique.  Whatever.
College came along and I didn't really form any friendships at school until I was almost done.  The one person I did start hanging out with outside of school was a couple years older than me with a husband and two kids.  She tended to get drunk quite a bit--even peed in the middle of my street one night.  Once again, I'm not a big partier....she stopped returning my calls.
A couple years later, Jo bumped into the Mister and then ended up calling me.  We reconnected and started spending time together again.  I tutored her oldest daughter on flute, even letting her use my own instrument.  I loved her family, her 3 kids and menagerie of animals.  I even thought her husband was cool.  I thought we were close.  I thought we had a good, strong friendship.
...and then Gunner died.  The Mister and I decided to put Gunner to sleep.  Two days before our housewarming party.  Not the best timing ever.  The following day, while moping and weeping, my friend called to tell me she wouldn't be coming to the party because her other friend, out of town, was having a meltdown and needed her.  I didn't answer the phone, I wasn't ready to talk to anyone yet, so the message went to voicemail.  I was cleaning the house, getting it ready for the party, and forgot to call her back or text her.  So she assumed I was mad at her.  She called me again the night of the party and left a message about how she was "sorry, but I have a friend in need, I'm so sorry I missed your party."  Yes, she got snippy at me because I hadn't returned her phone call, and she'd assumed I was mad and not understanding of the situation.
Glad to know that she knew me so well.
In any case, I called her back, but my calls went unanswered as well, so I tried to calmly explain via voicemail that I wasn't mad at her, I'd been upset and hadn't wanted to talk or put on a happy face.
I haven't spoken to her in 2 1/2 years now.  Her daughter and I still talk every now and then--she's still playing my flute and loving it.  -sigh

So now here I am.  I've finally managed to figure myself out, and learn to accept myself.  I call myself an introvert, not as an excuse, but because I can no longer think that there's something wrong with me--I'm just different than a majority of people.

And I've somehow stumbled upon someone who continues to put up with me--from a few states away.  I met Alex online a few years ago on a favorite author's fan site messageboard.  She's a few years older than me, married with a couple of stepdaughters.  She lives in the southwest.  A complete opposite from me in a few things, most especially her faith.
She's somewhat of an introvert, though, so we can at least relate to each other that way.  Our separate senses of humor seem to be from the same source somehow, too.
I can honestly say I've never known a better friend.  This is the comrade my emotional self has been hoping for for years.  She's pushed me to do things I'd regret not doing.  She's allowed me to be there for her, be her shoulder to cry on, and it's wonderful.  Because not only do I greedily want someone I can have a close friendship with, I want someone to be able to rely on me.  It's hard when things get rough for either of us and all I want to do is give her a hug.  The problem with me is, while introverted, if I connect with someone, I want to hug them.  I'm a hugger.  It's a sickness.  My name is Mel and I'm a hugger.
Anyway.  Alex has been there for me through good times, stressful times, scary times, joyful times and heartbreaking times.  I've tried to be there for her during all those times in her life as well.
Sadly, we've only been able to meet up a couple of times.  Her husband doesn't like me--I'm a bad influence.  Me!  He's an uptight jerk.  But anyway...I hope she continues to call me her friend as time passes.  Because a dark time in her life is becoming lighter and I'm afraid she'll outgrow me when she's completely happy once again.  I want her to be happy, don't get me wrong.  Even if it is with a twit that doesn't deserve her.  But I know that happiness can mean she needs me less.
Yes, I know, I'm insecure and pathetic.  Probably from all my fabulous experiences with "friends" over the years.

I'm so thankful for the internet.  First the Mister, then a twisted sister.  As long as I don't find a baby online, I'm satisfied.  Because, really, that would be awfully freaky.  Babies can't type.

Still Baffling

Well, this week certainly didn't go as I imagined it would.

While the gray spots in the field of vision in my right eye are definitely smaller than they were two weeks ago, they're unfortunately still there.
I was expecting a good progress report from the eye specialist on Tuesday.  That didn't really happen...

My eyes were dilated once again--a nuisance more than anything--those drops f*ing sting!  Then I was taken into the mad laboratory of my eye doc.  His name is Dr. Adams.  He's still friendlier now that I don't have a case of floaters.  Why is he friendlier?  Probably because I'm going to be giving him repeat business.  Ugh.

So Dr. Adams goes after my eyes with that bright-like-the-sun test to view the back of my eye.  Not a whole lot of talking until he finishes torturing my peepers extensively.  Finally, the lights go back on--not that I could see much, since my eyes were still lost in bright-light-afterburn land--and he lets me sit back.  Then he says, "Well, this is certainly a puzzle.  I have to admit I'm baffled..."  NO!  DON'T BE BAFFLED, DAMN YOU!!  TELL ME MY EYE ISN'T BROKEN ANYMORE AND I NOW HAVE SPIDEY VISION!..."because your eye looks completely normal now.  The spots of blood are gone and your optic nerve isn't swollen anymore.  Our options at this point are to have you get a lumbar puncture, see a neuro-ophthalmologist in Spokane, Denver, SLC or Seattle, or see a neurologist here.  I'd really like you to see a neuro-ophthalmologist.  Do you have any family in any of those cities?"
Why, yes, I do!  In Spokane, I say.  So he says he'll see if he can get in contact with the neuro-ophthalmologist (I never in my life thought I'd be typing out neuro or ophthalmologist as much as I have in the last couple weeks) in Spokane and get me seen.
Then he has me take another test that involves a bright flash and I return to bad-vision-acid-trip land again before sending me on my way.  Yay for sunglasses!

After not hearing from him earlier, I decided to give the good doctor a call today.  That's when I got more bad news.
The neuro-ophthalmologist he thought was available in Spokane is no longer there.  I have to pick another option.  Apparently N-O's are a very distinct specialty.  They can only exist in metropolitan areas with populations of more than the entire state of Montana.  The nerve!

At this point, I'm waiting to hear back from him with that contact info.  I might end up choosing a city further away where I know someone and can visit them at the same time.  I mean, really, if I have to get my eye tortured, and travel by myself (since the Mister is highly unlikely to be able to get time off again), I may as well make the best of the trip and hug someone I love.

I also managed to ask the good doctor if I could just see a neurologist here.  He'd apparently been in contact with the local neuro because he told me that at this point, a neurologist wouldn't be able to tell nearly as much as an N-O.  blah

So here's what I found out after I saw him, spoke to people who know stuff, and read up on things online:

• Some overweight people can have increased intracranial pressure, and increased pressure on their spinal column.  This pressure can lead to what happened to me.  The only problem?  If that were the case, it should've happened to both eyes.  How to see if this pressure is indeed increased?  The lumbar puncture.  Which I'd like to avoid at all possible costs--I've seen House, I know it can only lead to other unexplained symptoms!
• My MRI looked normal.  Good?  It should be good, but there are apparently some things that don't show up on an MRI until they're very advanced.  Hence the decision to send me to another torturer AKA specialty doctor for further tests.
• Dr. Adams keeps telling me that if anything worsens suddenly with my vision, to call him immediately.  I'm not sure if this is to scare the shit out of me or reassure me.  I mean, is he worried that my eye might actually explode suddenly?  Or is the current eye status possibly a forewarning of further problems he's not telling me?  Oh god, is my eye going to start deflating and ooze out of my eye socket, followed by liquified brain matter!?

I'd really, really like to not be an unexplainable case.  There's just nothing more unsettling and somewhat frightening than having a health problem that doctors don't understand.

An Interesting Case

Unfortunately, depressingly, distressingly (enough adjectives?) we had quite a night on Wednesday.  My vision went a little haywire at lunch, but seemed to go back to normal quickly enough.  It wasn't until I got off work at 5 that I noticed a spot in my vision.  Or a couple spots, I suppose.  It appeared somewhat in the shape of a snow angel.  

I explained it to the Mister and he thought it was a migraine without the pain.  I called The Mom and she just didn't know.  Then I called Cathy, my old physical therapist (who is also, luckily, a friend), who deals with neurological work.  I explained to her what was going on, and that the spots appeared in only one eye.  She suggested that I get it checked out, she was concerned and mentioned the optic nerve.

Obviously, I'm aware of the red flag that was waving due to the symptoms of only one eye--one half of my brain could be in danger.

So off we went to Urgent Care at 6.  I was seen by a doctor who went over what I was dealing with, checked my eyes, then stepped out saying, "I'm going to make a phone call to see if you need to be seen tonight"

Well, that's certainly nothing to feel freaked out about!

We waited and waited and waited another hour before he heard back from the eye specialist on call at the ER.  The eye doc thought what I had was a case of floaters, but said he'd see me anyway, at 8:30 in Belgrade.

Sooooo....off we go to Belgrade.  We get there, he unlocks the office door for us, no greeting, not even a "hi", just "here's some paperwork and read this notice and sign the sheet that says you've read the notice".  

I was asked questions about family history of disease, medications I take, had I ever had anything like this before, etc.  The doctor that I saw was an MD, not an OD.  He's an eye physician, not an ophthalmologist.

Then the torture began.

He numbed my eyes to check the pressure.  He put drops in to dilate.  He put other drops in for reasons I don't know.  Bright lights for a long time while he looked into my eyes.  When he finished the exam, I asked "So, am I imagining it?  Are they floaters?"  And he said, "No, there's something going on--your optic nerve is swollen and there's specks of blood in your eye."  Ok, so, what does that mean?  Well, he mentioned the possibility of one thing, which could be related to MS (let the screaming inside my head begin), then he mentioned something else and said he needed to look in his books to see what other possibilities it could be.

At this point, I look to the Mister with some genuine fear.  When a doctor has to consult books to try to diagnose your ailment, it's not a good feeling.  And my stomach just dropped when he said MS.

The doctor came back to the exam room/torture chamber and told me he wanted to get me in for an MRI.  He suspected that my eye could possibly get worse, ultimately leading to blindness, if I wasn't treated immediately.  His best guess: high blood pressure.

At that point, my bp was ranging around 160ish/105ish.  I suspected it was that high mostly due to the sudden stress I was under, but the doctor thought it needed to be treated in case it'd caused the eye problem in the first place.

Have I mentioned that we have no health insurance right now?

So when the good doctor told me I needed to go to the ER, a mild sense of hysterical panic set in.  The Mister and I looked at each other in horror, but we both knew it was necessary because, frankly, I like my eyes working.

The doctor then called ahead to the ER and told the doctor there, "I've got a very nice 31 year-old woman I'm sending in with an interesting case...."  I'd gone from a person with possible floaters who didn't even rank a hello to "very nice" because of my "interesting case".

When he got off the phone with the ER, he told me he wanted me to call his office first thing in the morning and make an appointment--he'd see me ASAP.  He mentioned how cruel I probably thought he was, since he knew I'd be in the ER for awhile, but he needed to do more tests.

It was after 10 PM when we checked in at the ER.  The service was pretty bad--I wasn't seen by a nurse or doctor for an hour after we'd been given a room.  I realize I was probably of lower priority than any accident cases, but the eye doctor had seemed concerned enough that I was sure I should be seen immediately.  In the meantime, I called the office I was temping for to let them know that I wouldn't be in first thing in the morning.  I tried calling the temp agency as well, but there was no answering service for them.

When someone finally did come in, it was a doctor who was going off her shift--she'd been the one the eye specialist had spoken to.  She told me that she was passing me on to the next on-shift doctor and had told him what my situation was.

A PA came in soon after to ask me more about my symptoms.  When she learned of my currently dilated eyes, she was quick to ask if she could take a look.  Apparently dilated eyes aren't something available on a regular basis--eye care specialists must be the only ones allowed to dilate.  So after having already had my eyes shined with bright lights for half an hour, she got to have her look, too.

I was then told that I was going to have an MRI, including a few scans with contrast dye, an EKG, urine test, and full blood screen.  

Thankfully, it wasn't long after that that I was given a mild sedative to help me calm down a little--my heart rate was up for some reason? hm--and then blood was drawn before the IV was put in.  The Mister had left to let the dogs out--we'd been out since 6 and it was now close to midnight--so I suffered alone, but the staff were all very, very nice.  The MRI tech showed up with a wheelchair and pushed me down to the MRI room.  I got as comfortable as I could, then the test started.  At least I finally know where techno beats are from--if you've never had an MRI, be assured that it's loud.  The MRI itself lasted about an hour.  I managed to almost fall asleep, even with it being so loud, and the sedative had kicked in so I was able to feel calm, but not loopy.

When the tech wheeled me back to my room, we discovered the Mister had returned--and laid out on my bed to fall asleep.  Poor guy was exhausted, he'd had very little sleep the night before as it was.

The MRI results showed that everything was normal--although I really don't consider my brain normal.  The EKG results were normal, too.  Blood and urine both managed to be normal, as well.  My blood pressure had lowered as I'd calmed down, so they didn't give me anything for it.  I was hooked up with a saline bag, just to hydrate me again since I'd had almost no fluids since 6.  The PA came back to tell me to see my primary doc in the morning, then unhooked me and sent us home.  It was after 2 AM.

I woke up just before 7.  So. tired.  I called the temp agency at 8 on the dot, told my supervisor of the situation and that I'd be in touch after my tests.  The primary doc's office couldn't get me in until 12:30, but the eye specialist could see me at 9:30.

When I got in, I was dilated again.  Talk about drops that burn!  No wonder he'd numbed my eye the previous night.  Ow.  He said they hurt worse because I had tired, dry eyes.  

More tests, more bright lights.  The good news was that my optic nerve swelling had gone down and that the specs of blood seemed to be going away.  The gray spot in my vision was now somewhat smaller--more like a butterfly than the snow angel.  The eye doc told me to stop taking my birth control to hopefully lower my blood pressure, he also wanted me to start taking an aspirin a day in case my blood was trying to clot.  I scheduled a follow-up in 2 weeks.  Then when I tried to speak to the office manager about the inability to pay the full bill at once, she got bitchy.  She treated me like I was a piece of trash.  It's not like I'd been expecting this strange situation.  I almost started crying.  I'd had maybe 4 hours of sleep, hadn't showered, was still freaked out, and here's this lady making me feel like shit for not having funds available to keep her happy.

Anyway, I then had my primary doc appointment--except she wasn't in this week, so I saw another doctor in the practice.  Once again, she wanted a chance at my dilated peepers while I was there, so my tired, sore eyes got one last blast with bright light.  She agreed with the recommended removal of birth control pills and told me to return in a couple weeks, as well, to see my usual doctor.  She didn't seem too concerned with my blood pressure because all of my previous stats in the office had shown a normal bp.  I think she agreed with me that it was spiked due to the stress of the situation.

I have to take my blood pressure for the next few days to see if it lowers.  The gray spots are smaller now, shaped like cat eyes.

It feels so weird that this happened to me.  Friends and family are all freaked out by it, and very worried.  I, on the other hand, even having gone through it, feel more stress about the bills I'll have to deal with.  

Universal health care?  One can dream....

A Bite of Meat to Eat

Humans have gnawed on, chomped through, and bitten off pieces of meat from animals for millenia.  Early humans in North America were hunters & gatherers, not farmers.  They followed the food source--herds of bison or other quadripeds--where they moved as the seasons allowed.
And, let's face it, our teeth tell the story of a meat-eating species.  Our front teeth scrape meat off bones, our molars grind through the tissues to make food easier to swallow.
I've been a meat-eater my whole life.  I grew up in an agricultural community that was surrounded mostly by big cattle ranches.  I ate beef a lot.
I also ate my fair share of wild game--elk, deer, antelope, etc.
Part of growing up in an agriculture-based community in the middle of prime wild-game habitat means learning that hunting benefits the animals as much as the humans.
In elementary school we played a game that showed the significance of hunting on herds of animals.  If controlled hunts weren't allowed, herds could grow and grow, habitat could be over-used and eventually animals would either starve to death or disease would wipe out large numbers.  Mind you, by third grade, I'd already seen quite a few carcasses hung up in the shop and gotten a chance to poke dead body parts with morbid fascination.  What can I say?  I was a tomboy.
Since then, as an adult who's gotten more education in the broader world of biology, I've realized hunting plays an even more important role in our society today.  Elk and deer meat have filled our freezer season after season.  It's cheaper, leaner and healthier for an ecosystem than beef.
Through my internet travels, I've recently discovered a very disturbing infographic.
Please read it--it's very enlightening.  (I promise it doesn't take long)


Infographic by CulinarySchools.org

After seeing this, I was inspired.  I'd already ordered a cleanse package--something to do for myself for a week and kickstart/reboot my system.  I've never done a cleanse before, but I'd heard they were uncomfortable and difficult.  This system promised no starvation or discomfort.
I got all the required foods--beans, veggies and fruit.  All plant-based food were accepted.  No meat, no dairy, no processed sugar.  No caffeine (not a problem for me) or other stimulants.
As someone who's a protein fanatic, I knew it would be hard.  I protein.  It gets me through the day.  But the cleanse was going to make me feel better.  And it was just a matter of willpower, right?  Right.  

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

Day 1:  Wednesday.  I start my morning off with a quinoa breakfast dish--made with almond milk, cinnamon and fruit.  Finegreatgood.  Yes, quinoa is full of healthy stuff, but it's not exactly packed with protein--and I've always started my day with an egg or two.
But I could do this.  I would do this, damn it.
For lunch, I have a not-awesome, not-gross bowl of veggie-packed soup.  It was ok.  Still not a lot of protein, just a few lentils.
By dinner, I was absolutely starving.  I made myself a shake with blueberries and bananas and oatmeal before making the actual cleanse-shake.
Throughout the day, I was cold.  By the evening, while the Mister was sweating his way through the scooter fix, I was wrapped up in a blanket.  I was ready for bed early, to end the torture.

Day 2:  Thursday.  I start the morning with oatmeal instead of quinoa.  Try to liven it up with some cinnamon, berries and honey.  It's definitely better tasting than the previous breakfast.
Lunch meant more soup.  Seriously hungry by this point.  Trying to remind myself that I have the willpower, I can DO IT.  Ugh.
By dinner, I was fed up.  I'd eaten lots of fruit through the afternoon, but I really, really needed to chew through some meat.  A roast beef sandwich from the Pickle Barrel sounded unbelievably marvelous.  So I ordered one and almost passed out from bliss after the first bite.
At that point, I'm telling myself I can do two meals early in the day that are plant-based, but I need meat at dinner.  NEED IT.

Day 3:  Friday (I can't believe these days just keep showing up in order!).
I begin again with oatmeal.  By lunch, however, I'm feeling not great.  The cleanse has me taking two pills with each of the two early meals.  I feel like my pills are piling up in my gut, not moving or breaking down, and it hurts to take a deep breath.  I guzzle water, hoping to wash them along.  I eat more fruit, hoping to push them along.  No luck.  Don't even remember dinner.

Needless to say, there was no Day 4.  I gave up.  I have no willpower.  My body craves meat.  From my stomach, to my metabolism, to my mouth.  I love the time it takes to really chew through a bite of meat.  My stomach adores the time it takes to break down complex proteins.  My metabolism can't get enough of the energy meat provides.  Once again, I wax poetic about flesh.
So now I face guilt.  The guilt of being another person who is pushing the planet deeper into a climate spiral we have little chance of changing.
Yes, I know that eating meat is bad for the environment.  Yes, legumes are much better for the earth as well as our bodies.  Red meat in particular is bad for the human body.
I guess my only option at this point is to refuse beef that comes from unidentifiable sources.  The local co-op makes a point of listing the ranch their grass-fed beef comes from, as well as the family it supports.
I can also make the conscious decision to rely mostly on wild game.  Eat it throughout the year until our freezer is empty and then give other options a go.

I hope someone, somewhere, has seen the infographic and has the willpower I don't to give up industrialized meat.  If nothing else, at least I tried.  I just wish that thought comforted me more than it does....

Non-Knickery Knackery

I have recently realized something not very profound.  It's probably not something most people think about.  I'm sure to some women, it would rank up there with me not liking chocolate or diamonds.

I don't like knick knacks.  I don't collect anything in the knick knack category.  I have no shelfs on which to put non-essential items.  I can count on both hands how many unfunctional (I totally made up that word) things I have around the house that collect dust:  3 Fenton vases that my Mom got for me (she wants me to collect stuff like her), an antler sculpture, and 3 copper/viney votive candle lamps.  The Mister has a couple of Cowboys helmet stuff, but otherwise we're pretty tchotchke-free.  I don't know why that is.  I'm not a very decorative-friendly person.  We don't decorate for any of the holidays, including Christmas.  I prefer function to form?  I have a globe that collects dust, too, but I spin it every now and then and look at the basic info it provides.
I'm just not a chick.  I'd like to put up some cool maps on the walls, but otherwise they're pretty bare, too.

That's not to say I don't have shelving in the house--I do.  It's just full of books.  Mmm, books.  Of those, I must have a few hundred.  And that's ok.

A Different Rant

This has been brewing in my head for awhile, so I thought I'd better write it out before my words get too tangled up.

I realize that inequality has existed in human society for millennia. Lower classes of people were forced to live as servants or slaves because of their circumstances at birth.  It didn't matter how wonderful, awesome or brilliant they were--no chances were given to those unlucky ones.
Up until the late 19th century, people of a different skin color were only slaves in the United States.  Their ancestors had been attacked, packed up on top of each other on ships, and moved from one continent to another to serve people with money.  It didn't matter that all the people with money were white--black was slave, white was master, period.
Prior to that, groups of "heathens" and "savages" were killed by the thousands so that Europeans could take over the fertile lands.  Those natives that survived were "allowed" to live on small, minuscule pieces of land (compared to what they'd been able to roam freely before) and were told what they would get to do.  They were viewed as less than human to many white people.
In the early twentieth century, although strides had been made against inequality, women were still not allowed to vote.  When they fought for the right, men had them arrested and put in asylums because the women were clearly not right in the head.  Fathers and husbands physically hurt outspoken daughters and wives to keep them from rallying for equality.
I realize I'm barely skimming over the atrocities of the racism and misogyny, a few thousand words could be used to really dig into the history of the hatred of each instance, but....

And so it was in 1919 that women in the United States were given the right to vote.
In 1924 Native Americans were given "citizenship" to the country they'd fought to call home for decades.
In the 1960's multiple Acts were passed through the US Congress that protected people of all races and creeds, protected voting rights for everyone, and banned discrimination in housing.
1963 was the year that the Equal Pay Act passed.  Women still only make 72% of men in equal positions.
It wasn't until 2010 that Native Americans won a suit against the US government for mishandling of Native trusts.

Now, however, there is a new inequality people are fighting over:  gay rights.  Gay marriage, more precisely.
I wrote a paper in my freshman year of college about it.  I was 18.
I was raised in a small farm & ranch community in the middle-of-nowhere Montana.  It didn't get much more conservative than there.  Everyone was for gun rights and against big city folk coming in and changing things.
I knew one single gay person, a cousin of mine.  I didn't know her well, but loved her two sons, who were both around my age.
Beyond that, I had no frame of reference for the real fight for equality that homosexuals were in.  But I wrote that paper anyway.  It still surprises me a little.
Yes, homosexuality is more "out there" than it ever has been.  Cable sitcom shows feature gay and lesbian Americans.  Ellen DeGeneres came out on national tv in the 90's.  This week, Anderson Cooper came out.  Ellen is a comedian, Anderson is a newscaster.  I've been familiar with both of them for about the same amount of time.  Anderson was part of the Channel 1 news show that I saw as a teenager when I was in high school--I'm pretty sure we watched it every morning in homeroom.
There are a lot of homosexuals that are famous, putting their names and faces on the gay rights flag.  There are a lot more homosexuals who are just trying to live their lives day-to-day and hope for equality, I'm sure.

What is marriage?  Why is it SO important to family values now, all of a sudden?

Marriage, waaaaaaay back in time, was simply a contract between a man and another man.  A woman was collateral.  In some societies, marriage was used to strengthen ties between countries.  I'm sure there was a lot of religion involved in most ceremonies, because in those times, religion was THE thing everyone agreed on.  A marriage contract was only fulfilled once vows had been made in front of a religious man.
In England, a woman was only marriageable if she had a large dowry (AKA $$$).  The woman was pretty much a consolation prize/burden to put up with to get hands on the money.
But marriage has evolved since then.  The vast majority of weddings now occur because two people love each other and want to make it legally known that they're considered a single unit.  One person's belongings are also the other's, their children will carry on the name of the father (in most cases) and everyone tries to be the couple that makes it through the good and bad times to reach 40, 50, 60 years together.
I must not understand what it matters to family values.  If two people love each other, want to be able to make tough decisions for their partner, who am I to say "No, that's not ok"?
Let's pretend that there's a couple:  person A and person B.  Persons A and B have been together for 14 years and desire to get married.  They know marriage isn't going to necessarily define their relationship, but the legalities it includes are important because person A is starting to develop signs of Parkinson's Disease.  And when things get bad, person A wants person B to be the one taking care of the hard decisions, the estate matters, and the miscellaneous other things that can happen when someone loses themselves in an illness.  Person B understands that they love person A and no matter how hard it gets, they want to be there for person A, because their feelings for each other are stronger than any sickness.  Persons A and B already live together, have a home together, and are well-liked in their neighborhood and community.
So, what does it matter if Person A is a woman and Person B is a woman?  What makes their desire to legally marry any different than if Person B was a man?
My thoughts are, if a child grows up with no expectations of relationships and someday encounters someone they fall in love with, does it truly matter if they are they same biological sex?  Why is it so difficult for people to get their minds out of other people's bedrooms?!
I don't care if you want to hang upside down naked and get tickled with an ostrich feather until you pass out from laughing so hard--is it hurting you?  Is it hurting your partner?  Does it involve children?  If all of the answers are no, then WHO CARES?

Differences are a part of life.  Tall, short, fat, skinny, black, white, smart, ignorant, brunette, circus performer, typist, blind, old, young, vegetarian, omnivore--all, some, or none of these make people original.  Let people live their lives and concentrate on making your own something you can look back on with a smile and full heart.  Hatred, distrust, and discrimination hurt everyone.

One Year

I meant to write this out last week, since that's the anniversary date...

One year ago, I quit a job that made me miserable.  I had chronic headaches, gained weight (a lot), went on anti-depressants, and felt generally broken-spirited.  Pity party aside, I was in a very bad place.
So I left that behind.  In the year since, I've learned more about myself, my relationships with those closest to me, and I've managed to accept things and move on more easily.

I've also realized that staying home all day sucks sometimes and is the best.thing.EVER on other days.
Some other things I've noticed:

• Baseboards suck.  Seriously.  All they do is sit there and collect dust and hair, then shout at me about it every time I look at the floor.
• Bras are the devil.  I wonder if I would've made a good feminist ninja hippy back in the days when bras got thrown into the fire.  I feel like throwing mine in a fire all the time.  I'm really going to miss the days of relaxing bra-free when I go back to the land of employment.
• Owning a house is wonderful.  I get to put in a garden, new trees, flowers, paint and repaint walls and ceilings and no one gets to give me shit about it.  The only opinions that matter are mine and the Mister's (and most of the time when I ask his thoughts, he says, "I don't care, it's up to you").
• My dogs make me happier than most humans.  Lily and Amber have been my constant daily companions for a year now.  When we took a short weekend trip recently, I had a really hard time leaving them.  I need to find a job that lets me bring my dogs to work....
• Reading is only a hobby.  I thought that when I had lots of free time, I would just dive into book after book that'd been piling up while I was busy with other stuff.  Strangely, and somewhat of a relief, I've discovered that even with unlimited time available, I read only occasionally.  I think I've only finished a dozen books in the past year.
• Whether due to stress, constant contact with the public, or the combination of the two wearing me down, I got sick a lot when I was working.  I don't think I've had a cold in the year since I quit.  One of the best perks of staying home is avoiding sick people all the time.
• Hallelujah for air conditioning!  A couple of weeks ago it was spitting snow.  Yes, in June.  It happens.  Earlier this week it was almost 100ºF.  The a/c was running all day and could barely keep it cool in here.  I'm SO happy we invested in a heat pump last year.  Woo!

I'm sure there's more stuff I've discovered that I love or hate in the past year, but those are the big ones.