I'm having a bit of trouble organizing my thoughts, so I'm resorting to the good 'ol bullet format:
- I'm still waiting for an acceptance letter, but it looks like January is ON for going back to school. Woo! (*insert happy Snoopy dance*) I finished my app and essay and got it all turned in. Now I just have to play the waiting game for a few weeks. It's going to take me longer to finish than I'd anticipated (not totally sure of the actual time frame yet) but I'm SO excited. This will be the first time EVER that I'll be able to go back to school without working my way through. During both undergraduate and graduate schoool I was so poor that I had to work my butt off all the way through, so given how much I love school, this is a real gift. Thanks, DH! I love ya, babe!
- I have now finished dental appointment #4. One more restorative segment to go and then I can start with the cosmetic work. And wow, it sure sucks having the Teeth of Doom. People, a) don't get old; and b) if your teeth hurt, don't put off fixing them. Even with the nitr0us, it ain't pretty. I was shaking when I went in today. Now, granted, I have issues with dental procedures (any medical procedures, really) due to my eff'd up childhood, but still, I was unusually uptight today. And really, it's not like it hurts after the novocaine hits. Thank goodness my dentist is a swell guy. I was trying to hide my fear but shaking is kind of obvious and he saw it and was all comforting and even turned up the gas. I actually got all teary when he was nice to me. God. I'm so freaking certifiable.
- Remind me, in the future, that going all Holly Homemaker on Thanksgiving's ass is a lot of damn work. I've been in homemaker-mode since I quit my job - cooking meals for hubs to take to work, trying to get this hovel organized, etc. We don't host Thanksgiving here any longer, but I still make some dishes for the occasion. I always make this, but this year I decided to grate the taters by hand. The bagged, pre-grated stuff is just too dry and tasteless. But wow, a LOT of work! It'll be worth it, though. I'm also making a wild rice and wild mushroom soup and cookies and cream ice cream for my darling nephews. A side note: This is the best cookbook I have ever owned - just make sure to get the original version that I linked to (check eBay or somewhere other than Amazon.) Don't get the revised edition. The new version has all watered-down, bland, low-fat changes to the awesome original recipes. I'm all for health, but I'm with the Julia Child camp in feeling that special occasions deserve the full Monty. The originial just has WAY better tasting stuff.
- Chloe is stable, but I'm not sure for how long. We're feeding her whatever she will eat. Lunchmeat, boiled chicken, tuna from a can, anything soft. I'm very sad. But I'm grateful that so far she doesn't appear to be in any distress. Luckily, she's a kitty that will tell you if she's upset. She's very vocal and she communicates well. So, I guess it's so far, so good on that front. I know we don't have a lot of time, but I want the time she has left to be as comfortable and as serene as possible.
More later, but I gotta go check the pie crusts! Namaste!
I'm a good little researcher. I check out relevant websites, read reviews, and do lots of comparison shopping before I make any big moves or purchases.
It's no different with this back-to-school thing. I had it narrowed down to two different schools. I'm scheduled for a seminar at Plan A School, but I still wanted to check out Plan B School in case they could offer me a better deal in terms of transferring in my undergrad cradits or on the tuition cost or the number of semesters I'd need to finish.
Armed with my website data and discussions with former students, I made the soujourn waaay across the state to Plan B School (the potential commute time being part of the reason it was relegated to Plan B.) After driving around the campus in circles for a while, I finally found parking. I walked approximately a hundred miles and visited many (admittedly lovely) campus buildings before finding the right one.
The friendly young lady there told me that, contrary to their website's info, they "don't do X certifications any more." Demand changes, state regulatory changes, blah blah, etc.
Grrr.
I can understand all that but, jeez, you're a pretty big University, you might want to consider maybe updating your website?
Anyway. No big deal. I got to walk around a pretty campus that I'd never seen before, on a nice fall day.
So it looks like Plan A School remains firmly in the Plan A slot.
In other news, I've been trying to squeeze in all my medical appointments before my insurance runs out. (DH has insurance, but it isn't as good as mine.) I've been having some dental problems, and I'd chalked it up to inheriting my dad's bad teeth genes. Apparently, though, it's worse than I thought. According to my dentist (whom I trust) I have bad acid reflux and need a bunch of work done if I want to not wear dentures in the future. And I also need to get the cause of the reflux looked into.
It caught me totally off guard. I've never had a single symptom of reflux, but the dentist said that doesn't mean it can't be happening. So I guess when I go to my follow-up appointment with my GP later this month, I'll have to address that. Oh, and I'm also apparently grinding my teeth at night so I need to get fitted for a mouth thing for that too.
The thing is, when I turned 40 I told DH that for a gift I wanted to get some cosmetic dental work done. My teeth don't look terrible or anything, but age has taken its toll and I'd like them to look nicer. He was fine with that. ow it looks like I need a bunch of structural work, too. And I'll have to figure out what's going on with this stealth reflux.
So that's my boring update du jour. It's not profound. Life marches on.
At a week or two out from my last day of work, I feel good about the decision to leave.
I am much, much less stressed. Sleep is still a challenge, but at least now when I have insomnia I'm not panicking, I'm just not sleeping. Which isn't the end of the world. I just read or watch bad tv until I fall back asleep or until dawn breaks. I've made a bunch of medical appointments. I started taking Lexapr0 again. It's helping. I have a script for amb1en to fill in case the antidepressant doesn't fully resolve the sleep issues. I have some scripts for tests and bloodwork to resolve some minor aches and pains I've been having. I'm running lots of errands to try and get my ducks in order for going back to school. I feel like I'm making some life-progress.
There have been some minor annoyances. I drove a total of five hours round trip yesterday to get a transcript from a (very expensive) University I spent a year studying at. I've needed that damn thing for years and it's been one problem after another in getting it. The most expensive school I ever attended, and I couldn't get that one stupid piece of paper from them! So finally I just decided to drive up there and get it in person. When I finally arrived I had to deal with a surly clerk who seemed mad at the world, but I did leave with paper in hand. Which was the objective.
Today I drove to the college I'll likely be attending (although there are two I'm considering) and I signed up for the informational meeting that's kind of the gateway to my certification classes. I don't think I can make the January semester to start the classes, which leaves me with a dilemma as far as what to do for work until September, but I'll deal with that when I know for sure. I could always substitute teach. The world wouldn't end if I didn't work before next fall, but I always feel guilty when DH is the only one bringing in a check. There's also the possibility of taking some courses as a non-matriculated student in January and having the credits applied the following semester. But we'll see.
I also discovered during my errands today that the vet messed up Chloe's med refills, so I'll have to go and pick them up tomorrow after my dentist appointment. I'm almost out, so I hope they don't mess them up again. And the dentist...meh. I've had a bum tooth for a while now - I think it needs root canal. And I'll need some more work after that. So I doubt I'll feel like running around after my appointment, but I won't have much choice. Assuming the vet fixes the problem.
At least Chloe is holding her own and seemingly doing well on the steroids and painkillers. She's eating better, and doesn't seem in pain or otherwise distressed. I know it's only a matter of time before she starts to go downhill - this is a terminal cancer - but for now she seems just fine, and that's the important thing.
I also made a cat food run and suddenly my car was unable to avoid the gravitational pull of Border's. Before I knew it, I had splurged on a bunch of books! (I think that's one of the main reasons it would be hard for me to join a commune, despite the strong attraction - how would I feed the book addiction? It's my crack!)
But now I'm all erranded-out, ready to settle in with one of my new books. I think things are on the right track again. For once, I hope I nipped my depression in the bud and started treating it before it got away from me. I have hopes and plans and I want to start making them happen.
I've been wanting to go back to school for these certifications for a few years now, and I think maybe my change in job assignment this year, stressful though it was, was a blessing in disguise. Had this change not happened, I could have coasted along for quite a while just doing what I was doing. And I wouldn't have been UNhappy, but it wasn't exactly where I wanted to be. This was my wake-up call, telling me that it was time to put any insecurities aside (fear of failure, anyone =) ?) and just start taking the steps to do what I've been wanting to do for a long time now.
So that's what I'm doing. I hope I can sustain this momentum.
I know. Long time no post.
I've been wordless, sort of. Lots of words banging around in the old noggin, yet utter fatigue and inability to make the brain and typing fingers work in harmony such that they materialize onto the page.
The main order of business, lately, is that I gave notice at my job. It's so damn complicated. I love it, love my school and the kids, but I feel - as I never have in any other assignment in this school - that I suck at it. No one else thinks I do. They all think that I'm doing marvelously with this group of rage-disordered, high-risk, pre-teen autistic kids.
But it doesn't matter because I don't feel like I am doing so well with them. More than that, I'm just plain unhappy. I want my elementary (both disabled and non-disabled) kids back. This is not the age group that I feel most fulfilled and happy with. I want to want to stay with this group, but I don't. I can't make myself feel what I don't, despite my ambivalence. There are days I go in and think, "I shouldn't leave this. I love these guys." And days I go in and wonder how I can ever complete the remaining days of my notice.
It's been a rough decision. But there's no denying that, even if I felt like I was acing this assignment, I wouldn't be happy. I'm happiest in early childhood special education. Why deny that?
It's been a tough decision partly because I keep trying to make sure that it isn't the return of my depression that's coloring my choices, or the anxiety and consequent lack of sleep that's making me feel this way. I have no clue which is the chicken and which is the egg right now. But I'm so sad and I don't love my job anymore and I can't sleep and I wake up in the middle of the night in a blind panic. I spoon into my husband and pull his arm around me and moan, "I'm scared, I'm so scared."
Am I making a wrong decision? I don't know. But I can't, absolutely can't, imagine staying with what I'm doing now.
I really feel that leaving is the right move, despite how much I've loved this particular school district. But the question becomes: Now what?
I have a bunch of resumes out and today I more or less got an offer from a private school which would be a shocking pay cut (like half, and I don't set the world on fire as it is.) It's a long drive from my home, too.
I am leaning towards going back to school for (insert vagueness here to preserve my anonymity) some certifications that will give me more control over my work. I'm not sure I can catch the January semester though, it may have to wait for September. I would feel guilty about not working that long, even though my pay is peanuts in the scheme of our household income.
I don't know what to do. I'm at a crossroads. I need to make a decision, but...what? And how?
So tomorrow is my birthday (#41) and on that day I have to go and get checked to make sure that I'm all done with and healed from this miscarriage/early ectopic pregnancy (- it was too early for them to tell which of the two it actually was, although if it was the latter there was luckily at least no tube-bursting, just a reabsorption or whatever.) It's at least an hour's drive after my (currently very stressful) work day and I wouldn't be looking forward to such a long trip regardless of the birthday or the sad circumstances or the having to work all day before ultrasounds and speculums and whatnot. Too much stress right now. Too much.
Also, this weekend I very nearly had to be carted away in a straitjacket over a huge mistake I thought I'd made with my cancer-kitty's meds, but ultimately did not. I'm still crying over it, though it's unclear to me whether they are tears of relief, pure gibbering fetal-position insanity, or both.
See, I decided it was time to get Chloe on the steroids because even with the painkillers she wasn't eating as well as I wanted and the vet feels that they will help with both the tumor growth and her appetite. I can't actually see any evidence of the tumor yet so I can't judge that at this point. (It's early and she just had the debulking surgery and they have no idea in which direction it will grow - when it begins to regrow it could go into her mouth, up into her brain or eye, or out onto her jaw and face.) But I felt with her not eating well and the possibility that it will slow the tumor swelling, that it was a good idea to start it. Dr. Internet says that side effects from the steroids are not as common in cats, more likely in dogs. It does suppress their immune system, but at this point with the cancer I feel it's a risk that's outweighed by the possible benefits.
Unfortunately, when queried about feline oral squamous cell carcinoma, Dr. Internet also says that it's a very aggressive cancer and grows rapidly. Some people have websites documenting their pets' struggles with the disease, and I went there looking for steroid dosage info (I mistakenly thought the dosage the vet prescribed was high) and came away just sobbing and sobbing from their stories. (There are no happy endings with this one.)
I'd thought the steroid dose was high because I had read the script wrong - I thought it was 100mg of prednisone per .1 ml when it was actually 100mg per 1ml. Long story short, I called the vet, and as she tried to explain the dosage to me, I, with my currently not-real-sane and I guess hormonally-addled brain, became convinced I'd given her the wrong dose, by 10x the amount. I thought I'd given her .5ml (50mg of roids) when the actual dose was supposed to be .05ml (5mg of roids.) I got very confused when the (normally caring, but probably very busy) vet was trying to explain it all to me. It's all complicated by the fact that the pharmacy had to make it into a topical gel since she absolutely can't be pilled and I'd prefer to avoid traumatizing her with an injection.
So I had both myself and the vet thinking that I'd OD'd my cat. She got angry at me, I got angry with myself, and then I spent the next two hours trying to get a Pepcid AC pill into an unpillable cat, and you don't even want to know all the things I tried in that time to get meds into my baby - whose suffering and death I thought I'd surely hastened. Mortar and pestle. Graduated cylinders. Butter. Jerrymandered syringes. Angry scared cat. Tears tears tears. Dear god.
Finally, after a sleepless night (and have I mentioned that I really need to rest on the weekends due to my job stress?) I get up and get ready to give her her other morning meds. DH - who for sake of anonymity we shall call a "medical professional" - checks out the script and the syringes containing the steroid gel. He does the math. Carries the one. Double checks. Triple checks. AND TELLS ME I DID NOT OD HER. I gave her the right dose, .05ml. I just got confused on the phone with the vet and became convinced I'd screwed up. Of course, once he pointed it out, it was obvious to me. I'd had to have applied half a syringe onto her ear tips, waaaay too much gel to be feasible, and anyway I could see by the marks on the syringe the actual, tiny amount I'd used.
So of course I cried. Again, was it relief? Anger (at myself)? Brink of nervous breakdown? Who can even tell at this point?
So the next day (Monday) I called the vet and left a message that I had not, in fact, OD'd Chloe. I haven't heard back from her. She probably thinks I'm a lunatic, but then again I can't exactly dispute that at this point.
And my job? Wow. Hardest assignment I have ever ever ever had. I feel utterly incompetent, but I'll moan about that in another entry soon.
In the meantime, I'm starving. All I want to do is eat eat eat. Fatty salty comfort food. Fries - no, wait, CHEESE fries. And a pizza. And a big bottle of wine. Also carrot cake. And some elephant tranquilizer for dessert. With sprinkles.
I should note that Chloe is, at least for the moment, pain-free and eating like a fiend again. So for now, we are as ok as I suppose it's possible to be under the circumstances.
...shall we?
So I'm having a miscarriage (still.) The doctors? They tell you it will hurt and they give you a script for some pain pills. (In retrospect, this in and of itself should have been a clue. - When I almost chopped the tip of my finger off last year, the ER doctor gave me 1 (one!) tylenol with coedine and told me to follow up with my regular doctor. This was on a Saturday night of a three day holiday weekend. He treated me like scum. Thanks, Dr. Fucker.)
So afraid are they of drug addicts intentionally smashing their fingers in doors and running to ERs for drugs that they charge you several thousand dollars, give you one pill, and send you on your sobbing, throbbing way.
My point is that when a medical professional actually GIVES you a script for multiple narcotics, you can assume that you are well and truly fucked.
They will mumble about "possibly an ectopic pregnancy." They will say that there will be "strong cramping" and "worse than a regular period." They won't tell you that it will feel like there's a large rat inside your abdomen intent on chewing its way out through your stomach wall. They also don't tell you that you can apparently lose roughly 7/8ths of your blood volume and still somehow be alive. Go figure.
So there's that.
And there's also the thing where I don't know if I want to try again for a baby because I don't think I can go through this one more time without losing my already tenuous grip on sanity. I don't know if I mentioned before that I'm not an inherently sane person, but consider it admitted now. I'm not that strong.
And then, as I mentioned, my youngest (but still old) cat has the cancer. We have rapidly moved from the denial phase into the she-needs-pain-meds stage, and soon we may be in the she-needs-steroids phase. After that it will be the watch and wait for the when-is-it-time-to-end-her-suffering stage.
And. I don't talk about my job much here because of the whole anonymity thing and because of my respect for the kids' privacy. I work in a school with special needs children. Mostly ones with autism and rage disorders. This year I knew I was getting a very challenging assignment. I love my job (LOVE it) but it takes a lot of strength, patience, and compassion even on the best days. The start of the school year is tough because you are negotiating new territory with new students. That is particularly true this year.
Also, 9/11 is hard for me (- I know I'm not alone in this.) I lost a coworker on that day and every mention of it today in school had me choking back tears. The kids I work with were only 5 to 7 years old or so when it happened so they don't really get it. Maybe that's okay. Maybe it's better that they don't feel the profound grief and pain that we do. But it was hard for me to hide my emotions. I know that they need to understand it, but I wouldn't wish the pain I feel about it on them. How to reconcile that?
I feel like a part of me has died and I'm scared that I'll never be back to my old self again. I'm unspeakably sad. I don't want to fall into the deep pit of depression that it's so easy for me to slide into.
And that is where I am right now.
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Blog Directory ID: 492
Blog URL: http://catsparkle.blogspot.com
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Blog Description: I'm a 40 year-old hippie, vegetarian, and Buddhist. I live in a lovely East Coast seaside town. I write about marriage, trying to conceive after 40, being a child abuse survivor, and other stuff.
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Blog Added: July 03, 2007 03:11:46 PM
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