I really used to not be able to sleep. I'd be exhausted, falling over, snoozing while standing up and then go to bed and stare at the ceiling for hours. HOURS. My mind would relive every moment of the day, every item of my to-do list pecking at my brain, telling me that I would never get it all done if I didn't get UP out of that BED this VERY instant and get to work.
Some nights I let the to-do list win, I'd get back out of bed and begin mopping or sweeping or whatevering. Some nights I'd stay in bed, defiant. I was going to sleep. . .I WAS going to sleep. . .I was GOING TO SLEEP!
Eventually, I would of course fall asleep - but often after only several hours of tossing and turning, frequently only drifting off after taking some medication to help me. The next day would find me exhausted, foggy and practically a hazard behind the wheel.
Thousands of dollars in doctors visits and sleep studies later, the culprit found and treated, and I discover that a good night's sleep is truly a marvelous thing to have in your life.
I'm a much more even-keeled person (despite the crazy stories I share here. . .you are all lucky you didn't have to deal with me back then. Dear F. . .I love you for putting up with me). I am more productive, more fun, more relaxed. I mean relatively speaking - but let's not get crazy and stop alphabetizing the grocery list or anything.
However, tonight I am awake again. My crazy mind is not keeping me awake tonight, but instead, a curly headed moppet in my bed - coughing in her sleep, turning fitfully, unhappy and pitiful. Leaving me longing for the days when my insomnia let my Mischief sleep.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Holey Moley. The End
Mischief's mole wasn't cancer either. But it was something that has "a cellular structure very similar to melanoma" and "possibly may turn into melanoma" and "needs to be fully excised".
I begin to sense a theme.
They refer us to a pediatric surgeon. Mischief and I go visit him. He is very nice - but she is stressed that he is going to start cutting on her right there in the office. He tells me it will be a simple, easy procedure. . .he can do it right there in the office without anything but a numbing shot if I want.
I decide he might be crazy. I tell him that. . .no. No. no. No. If the mole is coming off, she is going to be asleep. This is my child. . .mine. . .with my skin and my moles and she will need to visit the derm for the rest of her life on a regular basis and no. No. NO. . .she will not be traumatized by this.
We will schedule a surgery, she will go to sleep, she will wake up with a bandaid and some tylonol and NO memories of any pain or of being scared.
And so that is what we do. I am pretty sure he thought I was crazy. But he wasn't the first person to think so. . .and he won't be the last.
The day of the surgery, she is so brave. Drama Queen goes with us to the surgery center and is a fantastic big sister. We talk about the special mask and the stinky air that will make her go to sleep. She puts on her funny gown and I put on my funny gown and I walk her into surgery. She lays on the table and I hold her hand until she is asleep. .. I kiss her little cheek and tell her I'll see her soon. And then I walk out and I wait.
I know it wasn't more than 30 minutes before they come tell us she is out, and fine, and will be waking up soon. . .but it seems like forever. I sit there and try not to panic that something has gone wrong. . but everything is fine.
Except for the fact that she woke up with an IV port in her hand. . .She hated that. But once we got it out, she was good to go. And hungry. . .that child is always hungry. We stopped on the way home and she ate a cheeseburger and fries and a milkshake. Yes I know. . .nothing but the healthiest food for my child.
But Holey Moley. ..
I begin to sense a theme.
They refer us to a pediatric surgeon. Mischief and I go visit him. He is very nice - but she is stressed that he is going to start cutting on her right there in the office. He tells me it will be a simple, easy procedure. . .he can do it right there in the office without anything but a numbing shot if I want.
I decide he might be crazy. I tell him that. . .no. No. no. No. If the mole is coming off, she is going to be asleep. This is my child. . .mine. . .with my skin and my moles and she will need to visit the derm for the rest of her life on a regular basis and no. No. NO. . .she will not be traumatized by this.
We will schedule a surgery, she will go to sleep, she will wake up with a bandaid and some tylonol and NO memories of any pain or of being scared.
And so that is what we do. I am pretty sure he thought I was crazy. But he wasn't the first person to think so. . .and he won't be the last.
The day of the surgery, she is so brave. Drama Queen goes with us to the surgery center and is a fantastic big sister. We talk about the special mask and the stinky air that will make her go to sleep. She puts on her funny gown and I put on my funny gown and I walk her into surgery. She lays on the table and I hold her hand until she is asleep. .. I kiss her little cheek and tell her I'll see her soon. And then I walk out and I wait.
I know it wasn't more than 30 minutes before they come tell us she is out, and fine, and will be waking up soon. . .but it seems like forever. I sit there and try not to panic that something has gone wrong. . but everything is fine.
Except for the fact that she woke up with an IV port in her hand. . .She hated that. But once we got it out, she was good to go. And hungry. . .that child is always hungry. We stopped on the way home and she ate a cheeseburger and fries and a milkshake. Yes I know. . .nothing but the healthiest food for my child.
Holey Moley. Part 2
I go visit my derm. She does the routine check and circle of a few spots. In a given year, I probably have between 4 and 7 removed for biopsy. . .and they all come back normal smormal. . .so it is not a big deal for me. She picks 4 this year and cuts them off for testing.
Two are on my back in a nice little spot that I can't take care of on my own. My darling darling F quickly tells me how happy he is that our little Drama Queen is old enough to help me. And that she is not squeamish.
She does a great job of handling my wound care for the next few weeks. . .
And then the call comes. The call that you think will probably never come. The call that one of the spots is. . ."severely atypical" "I'm sorry, what? What does that mean, exactly? I'm 30!! This is not supposed to happen to me."
It isn't as bad as it could have been. . .it is still considered precancerous. . .but I have to come in and have it "fully excised". They believe they caught just in time.
I'm a bit shocked, and busy. . .and work and the holidays and can't this wait just a few weeks? I put it off as long as I can. . .and then go in and see the derm again. They do the full excision.
10 stitches in my back. I am in pain. And stressed. And it's on my back where I can't fracking see it or tell anything about it or. . .ANYTHING.
My drama queen takes pictures with my cell phone so I can watch it. I travel to a friend's house every 5 days or so (she is a nurse), so she can do a bit of wound care and tell me everything is ok.
About 4 or 5 days before I'm supposed to go back to have the stitches taken out, I call my nurse friend and tell her. . .something is wrong. . .I need you to look at it. I go see her and she agrees. It's not infected. . .it's just wrong.
I get in to see the derm the next day. . .she looks at it and tells me "mazel tov" - I am one of a tiny percent of the population that is basically. . .allergic to stitches. They have to take them out. . .all of them. . .the externals and the internals (the ones that were supposed to dissolve). My "tiny straight line scar" is now "one hell of a beautiful scar" (according to the derm)...that is a euphemism for "gigantic disaster on your back". I am in pain again. And stressed.(And probably slightly whiny. I refuse to comment on that one.)
And then the pediatric derm calls. . . .
Holey Moley. . .The End
Two are on my back in a nice little spot that I can't take care of on my own. My darling darling F quickly tells me how happy he is that our little Drama Queen is old enough to help me. And that she is not squeamish.
She does a great job of handling my wound care for the next few weeks. . .
And then the call comes. The call that you think will probably never come. The call that one of the spots is. . ."severely atypical" "I'm sorry, what? What does that mean, exactly? I'm 30!! This is not supposed to happen to me."
It isn't as bad as it could have been. . .it is still considered precancerous. . .but I have to come in and have it "fully excised". They believe they caught just in time.
I'm a bit shocked, and busy. . .and work and the holidays and can't this wait just a few weeks? I put it off as long as I can. . .and then go in and see the derm again. They do the full excision.
10 stitches in my back. I am in pain. And stressed. And it's on my back where I can't fracking see it or tell anything about it or. . .ANYTHING.
My drama queen takes pictures with my cell phone so I can watch it. I travel to a friend's house every 5 days or so (she is a nurse), so she can do a bit of wound care and tell me everything is ok.
About 4 or 5 days before I'm supposed to go back to have the stitches taken out, I call my nurse friend and tell her. . .something is wrong. . .I need you to look at it. I go see her and she agrees. It's not infected. . .it's just wrong.
I get in to see the derm the next day. . .she looks at it and tells me "mazel tov" - I am one of a tiny percent of the population that is basically. . .allergic to stitches. They have to take them out. . .all of them. . .the externals and the internals (the ones that were supposed to dissolve). My "tiny straight line scar" is now "one hell of a beautiful scar" (according to the derm)...that is a euphemism for "gigantic disaster on your back". I am in pain again. And stressed.(And probably slightly whiny. I refuse to comment on that one.)
And then the pediatric derm calls. . . .
Holey Moley. . .The End
Holy Moley. Part 1
I am a spot covered gal. Have been most of my life. . .My derm believes I am probably a poster child for being at risk for Melanoma. And therefore I do the annual body scan thing, I wear sunscreen year round, and I'm pretty vigilant about keeping an eye on the speckles on my skin.
And the speckles on my kids skin.
When Mischief was about to be 5, we noticed a mole on her arm that seemed to be growing. So we brought it up to her pediatrician. (Slight side note. . .we love our pediatrician. If you don't love your pediatrician. . .you should change. . .find one you love. . .so nice to trust your child's doctor completely). The ped looks at it and says. . yeah. . .lets refer her to a pediatric derm. It is probably nothing, but. . .it would be good to get it checked out.
We make the appointment to go see the pediatric derm. . . .And this guy is fantastic. He is funny, charming and makes my little Mischief totally forget why we are there. Until he says "Lets just take a little piece for testing." Mischief totally (quickly!!) figures out this means he has to cut a piece off. And she. . .FREAKS. OUT.
He numbs it, he talks her through it, I hold her hands and talk her through it. . .and she screams bloody murder while he takes "a little piece for testing."
Happily she recovers quickly. . .but it was not fun. A sticker and a band-aid a promise to call with the results, and we head out the door for our long trip home from Atlanta.
In the mean time. . .it is time for my annual derm check up. . . .
Holey Moley. Part 2
And the speckles on my kids skin.
When Mischief was about to be 5, we noticed a mole on her arm that seemed to be growing. So we brought it up to her pediatrician. (Slight side note. . .we love our pediatrician. If you don't love your pediatrician. . .you should change. . .find one you love. . .so nice to trust your child's doctor completely). The ped looks at it and says. . yeah. . .lets refer her to a pediatric derm. It is probably nothing, but. . .it would be good to get it checked out.
We make the appointment to go see the pediatric derm. . . .And this guy is fantastic. He is funny, charming and makes my little Mischief totally forget why we are there. Until he says "Lets just take a little piece for testing." Mischief totally (quickly!!) figures out this means he has to cut a piece off. And she. . .FREAKS. OUT.
He numbs it, he talks her through it, I hold her hands and talk her through it. . .and she screams bloody murder while he takes "a little piece for testing."
Happily she recovers quickly. . .but it was not fun. A sticker and a band-aid a promise to call with the results, and we head out the door for our long trip home from Atlanta.
In the mean time. . .it is time for my annual derm check up. . . .
Holey Moley. Part 2
Insanely Mortified
Work has been crazy as of late. And not crazy in a good way, although, I don't guess it has been all bad either.
I still do that thing I do. . .but due to a co-worker leaving unexpectedly - I've gotten the opportunity to step in and do some project management. And well. . .I haven't decided exactly how I feel about that yet.
A. Good for my resume.
B. A nice change
C. Parts of it - like new products that I get to help see through development are very cool
D. But Mostly just A. . .
However it also comes with downsides
1. The *other* thing I do certainly didn't disappear and I find myself just a wee bit (totally, completely, ridiculously) overworked, overwhelmed and on the edge of losing it.
2. There are parts of the "management" that truly suck. Dear Sales Weasels. . .REALLY? You promised the customer WHAT?!?!
3. Also. ..the documentation of process and the management of said documentation of said process. Vomituous. (I'm pretty sure that is a real word. It should be).
And all of those downsides worked together to bring me to one of The Most Embarrassing Moments of my career.
I was already covered up in work when I found out about a meeting with an irritated customer. That would be happening over my lunch break. That I was then told I needed to "drive" the call. "Driving the call" is management speak for "we think they'll be nicer to you than they would be to person X". I stress. I plan. Ten minutes before the call, everything changes and I get told I will not be "driving" (Thank. God.) but will still need to attend.
The call goes as poorly as possible. The customer is angry and threatening and posturing and it is Most. Uncomfortable. We are scrambling. I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to figure out what to do about this wonderful wonderful customer. . .while also attending 5 more meetings (not related), dealing with 4 additional projects (only one of which is mine to really worry about) and come to the realization that I WILL NEVER get all this trash done. Never. Never.
At 4:35 I walk back to my desk after coming from a meeting that wasn't nearly as bad as the morning disaster, but was still not great (and was dealing with yet ANOTHER project. . .are you keeping count? because I totally don't know anymore) and am greeted by my very least favorite co-worker in all the land.
He truly grates on my very last nerve. This day he has decided to pester me about a document that. . I don't have. I don't have it. . .I haven't been able to get in touch with the guy who DOES have it. . .and I have told him that twice already in the last 26 hours. And He begins to stress to me the IMPORTANCE of this document, why we MUST have it (for a project that does not yet have sign off. . .) and I begin to feel my blood boil and hit that point where the stress of the day hits the hormones of the month and your heart begins to pound and it is either get angry or get weepy. . .
I take a deep breath. I tell him (AGAIN) that I know it is important, I am working on it, I have not forgotten about it. . .but Mr Person With the Document is still out of the office and I will get it as soon as humanly possible. There is a possibility that my chin quivers, but I cover it up by turning toward my computer and pointing out the fact that Mr Person With the Document is not available. I raise my voice slightly as I declare, "I. Am. Working. On. It" and then turn away and begin to work on something else.
Then another co-worker stops by. . .he has noticed me working like a feral chipmunk on speed previously and kindly tells me to "go on home. . .this stuff can wait. . .your kids probably miss you". I once again keep the chin quiver to a minimum as I tell him thanks. . .I'm just wrapping some stuff up and then I plan to head home.
It is now 4:50. . .and co-worker #3 walks up. He smiles and says "Hey Ordinary Idiot. . .you doing ok?"
.
.
.
And. I. Lose. It. Just break into tears at nothing. He looks shocked and tries to tell me "hey. . .its ok. . .I'm so sorry" and I stutter out that I really am ok. . .it isn't anything really. . .its just everything and then. . .I. Just. Can't. Stop. I'm sitting there in my cube, desperately trying to get myself together while he runs interference to keep anyone else from bothering me.
I'm embarrassed to admit that it took me a good 20 minutes to feel like I could breathe without breaking into fresh tears. I end up sending him an instant message that goes something like "I really am ok. . .thanks for the kindness and consideration. . .I am so sorry that I started crying for no reason. . .I swear I'm really not insane"
He was honestly way cool about it. And the next day I stomped myself around the office - back in my "I am strong and will make YOU weep" mode. . .but dang. Some days. . .the crazy just wins out.
Mortified.
I still do that thing I do. . .but due to a co-worker leaving unexpectedly - I've gotten the opportunity to step in and do some project management. And well. . .I haven't decided exactly how I feel about that yet.
A. Good for my resume.
B. A nice change
C. Parts of it - like new products that I get to help see through development are very cool
D. But Mostly just A. . .
However it also comes with downsides
1. The *other* thing I do certainly didn't disappear and I find myself just a wee bit (totally, completely, ridiculously) overworked, overwhelmed and on the edge of losing it.
2. There are parts of the "management" that truly suck. Dear Sales Weasels. . .REALLY? You promised the customer WHAT?!?!
3. Also. ..the documentation of process and the management of said documentation of said process. Vomituous. (I'm pretty sure that is a real word. It should be).
And all of those downsides worked together to bring me to one of The Most Embarrassing Moments of my career.
I was already covered up in work when I found out about a meeting with an irritated customer. That would be happening over my lunch break. That I was then told I needed to "drive" the call. "Driving the call" is management speak for "we think they'll be nicer to you than they would be to person X". I stress. I plan. Ten minutes before the call, everything changes and I get told I will not be "driving" (Thank. God.) but will still need to attend.
The call goes as poorly as possible. The customer is angry and threatening and posturing and it is Most. Uncomfortable. We are scrambling. I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to figure out what to do about this wonderful wonderful customer. . .while also attending 5 more meetings (not related), dealing with 4 additional projects (only one of which is mine to really worry about) and come to the realization that I WILL NEVER get all this trash done. Never. Never.
At 4:35 I walk back to my desk after coming from a meeting that wasn't nearly as bad as the morning disaster, but was still not great (and was dealing with yet ANOTHER project. . .are you keeping count? because I totally don't know anymore) and am greeted by my very least favorite co-worker in all the land.
He truly grates on my very last nerve. This day he has decided to pester me about a document that. . I don't have. I don't have it. . .I haven't been able to get in touch with the guy who DOES have it. . .and I have told him that twice already in the last 26 hours. And He begins to stress to me the IMPORTANCE of this document, why we MUST have it (for a project that does not yet have sign off. . .) and I begin to feel my blood boil and hit that point where the stress of the day hits the hormones of the month and your heart begins to pound and it is either get angry or get weepy. . .
I take a deep breath. I tell him (AGAIN) that I know it is important, I am working on it, I have not forgotten about it. . .but Mr Person With the Document is still out of the office and I will get it as soon as humanly possible. There is a possibility that my chin quivers, but I cover it up by turning toward my computer and pointing out the fact that Mr Person With the Document is not available. I raise my voice slightly as I declare, "I. Am. Working. On. It" and then turn away and begin to work on something else.
Then another co-worker stops by. . .he has noticed me working like a feral chipmunk on speed previously and kindly tells me to "go on home. . .this stuff can wait. . .your kids probably miss you". I once again keep the chin quiver to a minimum as I tell him thanks. . .I'm just wrapping some stuff up and then I plan to head home.
It is now 4:50. . .and co-worker #3 walks up. He smiles and says "Hey Ordinary Idiot. . .you doing ok?"
.
.
.
And. I. Lose. It. Just break into tears at nothing. He looks shocked and tries to tell me "hey. . .its ok. . .I'm so sorry" and I stutter out that I really am ok. . .it isn't anything really. . .its just everything and then. . .I. Just. Can't. Stop. I'm sitting there in my cube, desperately trying to get myself together while he runs interference to keep anyone else from bothering me.
I'm embarrassed to admit that it took me a good 20 minutes to feel like I could breathe without breaking into fresh tears. I end up sending him an instant message that goes something like "I really am ok. . .thanks for the kindness and consideration. . .I am so sorry that I started crying for no reason. . .I swear I'm really not insane"
He was honestly way cool about it. And the next day I stomped myself around the office - back in my "I am strong and will make YOU weep" mode. . .but dang. Some days. . .the crazy just wins out.
Mortified.
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