Unwelcome Facts

Unwelcome Facts

As many of you know, I haven’t been doing too well this year.  I try very hard not to focus on my health too much on here because I don’t think that anyone needs to hear me whine.  Although complaining about my facial hair probably wasn’t something anyone wanted to hear about either, but that’s what TMI means right?  Good with the bad. 

It has come to my attention that some of you are interested in how I am doing.  Here is the update.  I have had more tests.  What they can find isn’t terribly normal.  The rheumatologist doesn’t want to diagnose because of the neurological nature of my situation.  Tremors are usually caused in the brain.  The neurologist doesn’t want diagnose anything because there seems to be no neurological cause for my tremors. 

This leaves now three specialists trying to decide what to do with me.  And this opens up the next situation.  If you don’t want to hear me rant, stop reading now.  

Still here, Good!  My test results that were done in Saskatoon on December 18, 2013 have not, as of January 10, 2014, been sent to my doctors.  And I can’t make an appointment with some of the specialists until they have the results.  The woman from Saskatoon said that tests around the Christmas season usually take a long time.  She told me not to get too worried until after about four weeks. 

Too late!  I’m already worried.  I have to ride a scooter in Walmart and Costco.  My store selections are limited by the stores with a scooter.  I am not 40 years old yet. I take handfuls of drugs to combat the pain. I twitch randomly and excessively, sometimes in public.  My episodes last for minutes, the longest one so far, 15 minutes.  Some days are good.  Some days are horrid.  I am tired.  I am frustrated.  I just want to go back to work.  I just want my life to go back to normal. 

I am not thinking that I am special in any way.  However, four weeks to get a piece of paper from Saskatoon to Regina seems a bit of a stretch.  The pony express could beat that.  I just don’t really understand.  I know that I am not an IT genius.  I know that the logistics to on online systems are pretty complex.  I know that the Government of Canada has one, and SGI has one.  I think that the ground work has been laid in one fashion or another.  (I’m sure that the guy who is hopefully working on a system would disagree with me but again, this is just my opinion and therefore my rant.)  But here is what I know for sure. 

 Dear Saskatoon Hospital,

Email takes 4 seconds to complete.  4 seconds.  Put the paper in a scanner, send to email, add the three doctor’s names, and click send.  The end.

Thank you.
Sincerely:
A concerned citizen. 

PS Please clean your bathrooms.  This is disgusting.

PSS This picture does not capture smell. 

So all in all, I am doing okay.  I think that I will get better sooner if I have a good attitude.  The insurance company disagrees.  They want to make me miserable so I stay sick longer I guess.  But that is a different rant altogether.  And I can’t stay mired in frustration any longer. 

If you ask how I am, I will say, “Good.”  Some of the time I am telling the truth. 

Moustache

So I am about to tell you too much information.  I am warning you.  If you don’t want to know, stop reading now.

I found a gray whisker in my moustache.  And I am a girl.  I don’t want to hear anything from anyone else on this simple fact.  Period. 

I never thought I would be one of those waxing, overly concerned women.  I will let you in on a secret.  I took a stand against eyebrow waxing when I was young.  It hurt.  I didn’t like it.  I wasn’t going to do it.

I didn’t wax my eyebrows until I was 37 years old.  I didn’t dye my hair for the first time until I was 30.  I admit that I like the look of my eyebrows now and my hair stays dyed because of the gray hair that multiplies exponentially.  I always thought I was pretty untouched.  Now that I think of it, maybe not terribly pretty…Anyways, back to the story. 

It has been my understanding of life that as we age, weird things happen to us.  I know that my moustache has been filling in faster than a 15 year old boy.  Once upon a time, I had one chin hair.  Now I allot time in my schedule to pluck my chin hairs. 

The bottom line is that I noticed, and proceeded to pluck, a whisker from my moustache that was gray.  It was a dark day in my life.  I am still not over it completely. 

I guess it was bound to happen.  Maybe walking with a cane has been aging me faster.  Maybe being sick has sped up the process.  However I refuse to believe that as I knock on 40’s door, this is a permanent addition to my life.  That is my stand now.  Hair Be Gone!

Now I have to go…wax something…Later everyone!  Have a good night!

Underwear-A Lighter Topic

Being sick has changed a few things in my life.  Some that I was not expecting. 

When I was young I had cute underwear.  Even as I aged pretty underwear.  I will admit that as I aged, pretty and cute got bigger.  I am not the same weight as I was when I was pre-kid.  Shocking I am sure.  So my pretty and cute got bigger, pretty and well…just pretty.  Now that I think of it, cute is under question as well.

Cute was something that I think left too.  Replaced though with sexy and a confidence that being 20 and tiny cannot find.  When I was young I always thought that people who said things like that were just trying to make up for getting fat. (I admit to being young and dumb) Now I realize the truth. 

As we age we do grow.  Sometimes up and sometimes out.  And it doesn’t matter.  I am at an age where I exercise for my health, I eat what I like, except for anything with yeast or raw dairy, and I wear what I want and my husband thinks I am sexy and he is the only one that matters.  God that’s freeing.  If only I could bottle that and sell it to all the folks that are chasing a wisp of their past. 

But I digress.  Underwear.  I admit to period underwear.  Every female person that is past the age of menstruation has these.  After being sick for a while, I know have “test“underwear.  This is designed for maximum coverage while still allowing for any test required.  Obviously there can be no metal.  You need to be able to move about at will.  Lay in uncomfortable positions for several minutes at a time.  They must not be the creepy crawly kind. 

Coverage supplied should be from roughly the bottom of the rib cage to mid- thigh.  Now that has a different kind of sexy built in.  The kind of sexy that says, I’m going to be here for many more years.  As we age everything changes.  Even the things that fill us with that good, truly happy feeling. 

Thanks, all for the reads.  I really appreciate it.