Yesterday I called PigHunter while he was on his way home from work to ask him if he’d pick up G from Grandma’s house.
“Babe, I can’t pick her up in my car. I think something died in here.”
“Why do you think something died in your car?”
“Because, oh my GOD, it smells so bad in here. It smells like death! Something died in my car!”
(Back story: His car had been parked at the equipment yard for about 2 weeks. He picked it up on Friday but it’s been sitting in the driveway until he left for work yesterday morning.)
I waited outside for him to get home. When he pulled up, he was all “oh my God, it’s disgusting, I have to find whatever it is.”
I watched from a distance as he opened the truck. I was totally and completely freaked out at the idea of something having died and rotting in his car so I kept my distance and pestered him from a far.
“Do you see anything? Is there anything there? What is in there? Anything dead in there?”
“Not yet, but I KNOW there’s something in here.”
The longer he searched without finding anything, the less freaked out I felt about it and the more I began to think PigHunter may be a liiiiiiiittle crazy. I finally got the nerve to walk up to the car to see what this awful smell was that my husband was talking about. All of the windows and doors were open, so I got as close as my fear of dead things would allow me and took a little sniff.
“It doesn’t smell bad.” I said.
“Oh yes it does, get closer. Sit down in the back and sniff.”
“Oh hell no. I will not do that. But I’m telling you, I don’t smell anything from where I’m at.”
Two minutes later he’s all “DEAD BABY MOUSE ON THE FLOOR!” and I was all “YOU’RE LYING!” and he was all “I swear, come look!” and I was all “You’re LYING YOU LIAR!”
But he wasn’t lying. Laying on the floor in the back of his car was a dead baby mouse. I may have ran away screaming because DEAD BABY MOUSE IN HUSBAND’S CAR.
He searched for more, but that was all he could find. But I warned him that there were more. There had to be more. Because what the chances that a single, teeny, tiny probably just born baby mouse had happened to find it’s way into his car and die?
So, he tore his poor, old, little car apart.
And underneath the carpet, he found 6 more of these:
Esus-jay Oesn’t-day Ove-lay Ore-(w)h-ays!
When I in elementary school, there were two neighbors I would play with every day. They were both older than me, but they were the best friends that I had in the neighborhood.
Jimm-ay and RhymesWithFonda. We would play everything from hide and seek to secret sex games that I did not KNOW were sex games because I had parents who didn’t tell me what sex was because did you know you can get pregnant just by “standing to close to a boy?” SWEAR TO NOT GOD BECAUSE SWEARING TO GOD IS A SIN! One thing we loved to do was skate in RhymesWithFonda’s driveway. She had The Perfect Driveway for skating. No gravel, or cracks. Just a smooth cement with awesome downward slant.
The fact that Jimm-ay and RhymesWithFonda were older than me created some problems. There was talk of sex that made me uncomfortable and sometimes made me cry because “I DON’T KNOW WHAT HUMPING IS BUT MY MOM AND DAD TOTALLY DON’T DO IT! LIARS!” Which of course led to “inside jokes” that made me feel bad about myself because they’d walk around telling their inside jokes and I’d laugh along and then RhymesWithFonda would be all “You don’t even know what it means so why are you laughing?” And I’d be all “Well, at least I’m going to heaven!” Because that was pretty much my comeback for everything when I was 8.
There was one summer in particular where I pretty much spent every day in RhymesWithFonda’s driveway. I remember one of those days as if it happened yesterday. Jimmy and RhymesWithFonda were outside skating and laughing louder than usual. I, of course, felt jealous and sad that they hadn’t come over and asked me to play. I laced up my skates and raced outside to join them. As I skated up the driveway, I said “Hi, guys! Can I play?”
“We don’t care.” RhymesWithFonda snapped back.
And then, then, it started.
All of this strange jibber jabber which I did not understand. Jimm-ay would say something and RhymesWithFonda would laugh and laugh. Then she’d say something back to him and he’d laugh and laugh.
“What are you guys saying?” I asked, feeling a little bit panicked inside.
“None of your business” they shot back.
And it went on and on.
They’d say these crazy, weird words and laugh. Sometimes they’d laugh while looking and pointing at me, other times while their backs were turned to me.
I begged them to stop.
“If you don’t like it, you can leave!” Jimm-ay shouted.
So, I left.
And went straight to Jimm-ays house to tattle.
I’ll never forget what his mom did for me. She didn’t turn me away. She didn’t tell me to quit being a crybaby. No. Instead, she invited me into her house, sat me on the sofa and listened to what I had to say.
“Oh, I see.” she said. “They’re speaking Pig Latin so that you can’t understand what they’re saying. That’s not very nice of them.”
But her kindness didn’t end there. Oh no it didn’t. She went and got one of those little personal chalkboards, a box of chalk and said “I’m going to teach you Pig Latin so they can’t talk about you anymore. Don’t tell them I taught you, we’ll surprise them.”
We sat there on her sofa for what seemed like hours while she drew on that little chalkboard and explained Pig Latin to me. Once she felt like I understood, she told me to go back out there and play with them again. “And if they say anything, just repeat what they said in English! They’ll never do it again!”
I couldn’t get to RhymesWithFonda’s house fast enough. As soon as I rolled up on them, they started with the Pig Latin.
I listened for a bit as they talked about me. Oh, how they laughed! And oh, how I laughed right along with them.
“You don’t even know what’s funny!” RhymesWithRhonda said.
“Yes I do! I know everything you just said!”
“DO NOT!”
“I-ay o-day oo-tay!”
Oh Snap.
Victory was mine! For that day, at least. Of course, they figured out other ways to leave me out. And I learned very quickly that Jimm-ays Mom couldn’t solve my problems for me every time. I learned that not everyone was going to like me all of the time and that the trick was to not let them know you cared and save your tears for your pillow. And for Jesus.
There was a point to this story. Something about how sometimes I feel left out of the Inside Joke of Life (or, you know, BLOGGING.), but honestly, I don’t care much to go into all of that because it’s Very Emotional for me and Wah! I didn’t graduate from college because my parents taught me it was God’s Will to get married at 19 and who needs college when you have Jesus and a Uterus?!
Or SOMETHING? BECAUSE OH MY GOD I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THIS BUT NOW YOU KNOW THE STORY OF HOW I LEARNED PIG LATIN. UCKY-LAY OU-YAY!
Because I love it.
broken record.
I stepped on the scale this morning and discovered that I’ve gained five pounds.
I took a 3 hour nap this afternoon. Woke up feeling just as tired as I did when I first laid down.
I tried composing a response to my doctor today, but I literally couldn’t think clear enough to form a comprehensive email.
My hair is all over the floor throughout my house.
But my numbers are in the “normal range.” So, whatever.
I was emailing back and forth with a woman who also has Hashimoto’s. There was something she said that made me nod my head furiously in agreement.
“I agree this is awful, I feel like..not me. I guess that’s the best way to describe it.”
That’s exactly the way to describe it. I feel like NOT ME. I don’t look the same, I don’t think the same, I don’t react to things the same. This has changed everything about who I am. Sometimes, I think I’ve come to terms with it, but then, I’ll see an old picture of myself and think “Wow, I used to have such thick, shiny hair.” Or I’ll read an old blog post that was funny and feel frustrated that I can’t write that way anymore. And suddenly I realize I’ve not yet come to terms with this disease and the havoc it has wreaked on my body and my mind.
The rational part of my brain understands that this is NOT THE WORST THING THAT I COULD HAVE. It’s not cancer. It’s not a brain tumor. It’s not MS. But on days like today, days where I have a hard time functioning, days where I have trouble thinking straight from the fatigue, days where I cry at the THOUGHT of having to put shoes on and exercise, it FEELS like the worst.
These are My God Songs
My daughter is always singing. Sometimes she sings Weezer, or Hannah Montana. Sometime she sings Raffi or Yo Gabba Gabba. A lot of times she sings songs that she makes up, usually about her friends and how she “doesn’t even care what you think, cause we’re just gonna play all day.”
For the past few days, she’s been singing songs about God. And it’s breaking my heart a little that she doesn’t know “real” songs about God and Jesus because we don’t go to church. But that’s a post for another day. Yesterday she sang a song that went a little something like this,”I love God and I love Jesus. I love Heaven and Jesus and God and God and Jesus and Heaven.”
All. Day. Long.
Last night, she asked if I thought God would like that song.
“Of course he does.”
“Will you record me singing it?”
“Sure I will!”
“And can you upload it and send it to God?”
Ha Ha. Children of “Digital Moms!”
As I was dressing her this morning, she continued with her God songfest. And this is the song she just sang. And I am still laughing.
“I love God with my heart.
I love him with my art.
I love him with my dart.
I love him with my POP tart.
And I love him with my fart.
I can’t lie. I was totally proud of her rhyming skills, but I also felt like I needed to explain to her that she should never include the word “fart” in a song about The Almighty. Because, although I’m sure God has a sense of humor, Pastor Grandpa? Not so much about those kind of things.
An Afternoon Walk, Purple Edition
I wrote this instead of writing a response because I really don’t WANT to tell my doctor to SUCK ON THIS.
For the past month, I’ve not felt well physically or emotionally. A few of the symptoms that I had before I begin taking my thyroid medication are acting up again. The main symptom that is giving me the most trouble is fatigue. The simplest tasks are sucking the life out of me and it’s taking a toll in the form of depression and CRYING!ABOUT!EVERYTHING!
I emailed my doctor and asked him for a TSH test, because fatigue is always the number one symptom for me that things are out of whack.
The test came back in the normal range. However, it had tripled since the last time we took it for months. I got an email from him that said “TSH is in the normal range.”
So, I wrote back with the following message:
4/26/09 12:18 PM
I have a question for you. Does the fact that it’s tripled since the last test mean anything? Because I’ve been feeling very tired again (I hadn’t felt that way for a while) And if it doesn’t mean anything now, does the fact the the TSH is going up mean I should best tested again soon?
The endo had said I need to be under 2 because I don’t feel good at ALL if it’s more than that, so if it’s on it’s way up, I’d like to be tested again soon if I continue feeling this way.
Your advice is appreciated.
I received the following message from him just now:
est was normal TSH 04/24/2009
Tsh will fluctuate over time.
No concern – no need to repeat .
Levels normal.
That may sound reasonable to you, but.. couple of things.
This is the same doctor that told me I had normal TSH levels for almost 2 years, not taking into consideration all of my symptoms. Also, not taking into consideration that I had tested positive for the TPO antibody (which meant that I had Hashimoto’s.)
“It’s stress!”
“Get on the treadmill!”
“You lose hair as you age!”
“Try Weight Watchers!”
“it’s anxiety!”
Those are all things I was told when I mentioned that I thought I was hypothyroid. And when I finally convinced him to test me again. WHOOPS! What do you know! You have an autoimmune disease that is killing your thyroid! (Also: And I QUOTE “Congratulations! You get to take thyroid medication now.”)
The point is this. I have symptoms that warrant a better response than “your numbers are normal, get over it.” I’ve been dealing with this for a long time now. I know my body. I know when things aren’t right. And the proof is in the fact that the ONLY reason I was ever diagnosed with Hashimoto’s is because I persisted even after he told me I was “fine” and just needed “a good weight loss pill.”
My endocrinologist isn’t much better, although I do give him credit for agreeing to keep my TSH on the low side of the normal range.
My point is that my doctor is blowing me off, yet again, telling me that my numbers are number with ZERO concern about my symptoms. And it makes me so angry that I could punch the whole world in the vagina.
Edited to add:
I know, SWITCH DOCTORS ALREADY, right?
Here’s the thing. I have an HMO. It’s not as easy as just switching doctors. And I can’t afford to pay for a doctor out of pocket. Also? I have an endocrinologist, but guess what? He sent me the following email in October:
“Ms. Y- good news! Your most recent thyroid test was completely normal. I recommend that you continue the current dose. You should now have a thyroid test done approximately once a year, which can be done by your primary MD.”
THAT is why I’m seeing my family doctor again. Because that’s how my HMO works. I mean, don’t you think if it were as easy as “getting another doctor” I would do it? It’s complicated, hence my frustration with the situation. Further complicating the situation is that he’s been a great doctor in every other circumstance, especially with my children. I mean, overall, I think he’s a great doctor. Just not when it comes to my thyroid. So, again. Complicated.
Matchbox Do DO DOOOO
Is there anything funnier than kids singing songs that they don’t know the words to? Besides kids doing jumping jacks?
I don’t think that there is.
I have amazing videos of my boys singing to Backstreet boys and N’Sync when they were little dudes. (Lucky for them, those are still on VHS-c tapes. Must get them converted to dvds STAT!) I remember when they’d perform for me, I’d fight back the laughter as I wondered to myself “what do they think this song means? Because those are not actual words!” My daughter has started doing the same thing with songs that I love and it is THE sweetest, most adorable, most hilarious thing in my life right now.
Because, seriously.
THIS.
Little Moments I Never Want to Forget
Not like anything you’ve ever read here before. (jajaja)
I have a confession.
I’ve not been to the gym since writing this post. I know that was not very smart health wise, but mentally, I needed the break.
So I just stopped.
I was overwhelmed with what feels like a losing battle. I was frustrated beyond all words. Did you know that I was having the EXACT SAME STRUGGLE with this last year at almost the exact same time?
This is what I wrote on April 23 of last year.
July 2006 (after having lost 70-ish pounds following the birth of my 3rd child)
April 2008 (4 months after finally being diagnosed with Hashimotos, even though I told my doctor and anyone who would listen to me that there was something wrong with my thyroid a year and a half ago.)
I can’t even begin to express how frightening that number is to me, nor can I express how depressed I am after doing a little research on “how to lose weight with Hashimoto’s.”
(You can read the rest of the post here.)
Here I am, a year later, facing the exact same problem (and also the exact same weight. Minus one pound.)
An entire year with no change, no matter how hard I’ve tried. No matter how many trips I’ve made to the gym or how many mother effing Weight Watchers points I’ve counted. No amount of positive thinking or attitude adjustments can change the fact that this shit is frustrating.
ALL CAPS FRUSTATING, even.
However, this is how I see it now that I’ve had a few weeks away from the gym. I have two choices in this situation. Give up entirely or dust myself off and try again.
I’ve decided on the latter.
EVEN IF I never lose another pound. EVEN IF I am this size forever. EVEN IF.
So, I will be back in the gym (Rumba!) tonight. And starting on Saturday, I’ll be back in Weight Watcher meetings. I do believe there are things that I can do different, things I’ve not yet tried, that can be helpful. I’m going to explore the other options, like, you know, riding a bike! I don’t know, something. I need to shake my routine up, for sure.
I have decided I’m going to actively blog my weight journey on this blog again. I had to close down the weight loss blog because a full time job + 3 kids + 1 horn-ay husband + a dog = only time for 1 blog and even then, not really time for 1 blog.
My hope is that next year, when I read back on this entry, I will be able to say “I’m so glad I didn’t give up.” because I will be healthier, stronger and happier.
.