Horrible, horrible news I read today...
46 Pound Woman Found Starved To Death
At a house overrun with roaches, choked with cobwebs and smeared with garbage police found a 46 pound woman starved to death.
Officials arrested the victim's sister and brother-in-law Sunday. A grand jury charged them with manslaughter.
Police said Christine Baxter, 30, died of complications from malnutrition. She was blind, deaf and unable to feed herself . Go here to continue story.
My dear grandson is 5 years old. He was born blind and developmentally delayed.This article made me think of him and what could happen did he not have mom and dad and other family who love him dearly.
I hope this dear lady is talking with Jesus right now, walking on those streets of gold and admiring the view in Heaven.
Bless her heart.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Counting Down. . . .
I was all calm and stuff, but I guess I read too much online.
The more I read, the less the results of that CA 125 they did seem to matter. I’ve read that some women never have a raised number on that test. I have read that (depending on whose article it is) 20 – 50% of negatives are false negatives. I have read it is NOT a reliable diagnostic tool at all, that it is mainly used to judge how well the cancer is responding to treatment.
I am not sure how to explain how I feel while waiting for the next ultrasound. I am not afraid, I really don’t think I am, but there is this constant roar of uneasiness from “not knowing”.
26 days to next ultrasound.
The more I read, the less the results of that CA 125 they did seem to matter. I’ve read that some women never have a raised number on that test. I have read that (depending on whose article it is) 20 – 50% of negatives are false negatives. I have read it is NOT a reliable diagnostic tool at all, that it is mainly used to judge how well the cancer is responding to treatment.
I am not sure how to explain how I feel while waiting for the next ultrasound. I am not afraid, I really don’t think I am, but there is this constant roar of uneasiness from “not knowing”.
26 days to next ultrasound.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Mammography on the Small Plates
When I went for my pelvic exam a couple of weeks ago, they also gave me an appointment for today to get a mammogram. This will be my second mammogram.
I had my first 5 years ago at the age of 42. I figured it was time for a “baseline” and being the good medical consumer that I am and wanting to be proactive in discovering any problems before they turn into large problems, I broke down and went.
The lady who did the test was very pleasant. Actually, had we met under other circumstance we would probably have become friends. She did and said everything just right to put me at ease.
I had been told all kinds of things about this test. I was told it was horribly painful and it felt as if they were laying your boobs on the road and running over them with one of those asphalt packing machines you pass on the interstate.
I had women tell me if they had been forced to stand there another second they would have screamed or passed out. Folks, I have an extreme fear of embarrassing myself, and screaming or passing out while one of my boobs was squished between two plates of glass would qualify in my mind as very embarrassing. I mean can you just see me hanging there by my flat breast, unconscious?!?
Needless to say, to admit I was a bit nervous would be an understatement, but like a good girl I went. She was very nice and she got right down to business, handing me the required paper ½ gown. (We won't even get into the “One Size Fits All” bullshit. Look back to my post on Pap Smears, PCOS and Ambush of a Rectum for that rant).
While I am undressing “from the waist up”, (did I look so country and hick that she actually though I would undress completely if she didn't give me step by step instructions?) she is putting the film in the machine and adjusting the height. Once she gets that done, she reaches and picks my boob up and lays it on this piece of glass like it was a lump of dough she was getting ready to knead.
She then begins to lower the top half of the “squisher” and all of a sudden she stops. I can’t figure why she just stopped like that. I mean there I was, all set, already holding my breath to try and make my belly look a tad tighter then it is, and she stops and walks to the other side of the room.
She picks up this glass plate almost like the one my boob was still laying on and tells me to step back and let her “put the smaller plates on the machine”. WTF????? “Smaller plates”????
Sure effing enough, she takes the “large” plate off and puts this little bitty thing on there that looked like it was made to squish golf balls at the most. Here I was with my B+ cups that I had heretofore been quite proud of and she’s hauling out the miniature plates!
These boobs breastfed two very healthy, very large babies. For what they have been through, even with the stretch marks and the fact that they point “downward” more than they point “outward” now, they’re still decent looking girls.
After all was said and done, I will admit she was good and she was fast and physically there was no pain, but the mental anguish will haunt me forever.
Now I know how men must feel when they get those spam emails urging them to buy their product in order to “Make your dick bigger”.
I think when I get there today, I will go ahead and tell her to please fetch the small plates before we even begin.
I had my first 5 years ago at the age of 42. I figured it was time for a “baseline” and being the good medical consumer that I am and wanting to be proactive in discovering any problems before they turn into large problems, I broke down and went.
The lady who did the test was very pleasant. Actually, had we met under other circumstance we would probably have become friends. She did and said everything just right to put me at ease.
I had been told all kinds of things about this test. I was told it was horribly painful and it felt as if they were laying your boobs on the road and running over them with one of those asphalt packing machines you pass on the interstate.
I had women tell me if they had been forced to stand there another second they would have screamed or passed out. Folks, I have an extreme fear of embarrassing myself, and screaming or passing out while one of my boobs was squished between two plates of glass would qualify in my mind as very embarrassing. I mean can you just see me hanging there by my flat breast, unconscious?!?
Needless to say, to admit I was a bit nervous would be an understatement, but like a good girl I went. She was very nice and she got right down to business, handing me the required paper ½ gown. (We won't even get into the “One Size Fits All” bullshit. Look back to my post on Pap Smears, PCOS and Ambush of a Rectum for that rant).
While I am undressing “from the waist up”, (did I look so country and hick that she actually though I would undress completely if she didn't give me step by step instructions?) she is putting the film in the machine and adjusting the height. Once she gets that done, she reaches and picks my boob up and lays it on this piece of glass like it was a lump of dough she was getting ready to knead.
She then begins to lower the top half of the “squisher” and all of a sudden she stops. I can’t figure why she just stopped like that. I mean there I was, all set, already holding my breath to try and make my belly look a tad tighter then it is, and she stops and walks to the other side of the room.
She picks up this glass plate almost like the one my boob was still laying on and tells me to step back and let her “put the smaller plates on the machine”. WTF????? “Smaller plates”????
Sure effing enough, she takes the “large” plate off and puts this little bitty thing on there that looked like it was made to squish golf balls at the most. Here I was with my B+ cups that I had heretofore been quite proud of and she’s hauling out the miniature plates!
These boobs breastfed two very healthy, very large babies. For what they have been through, even with the stretch marks and the fact that they point “downward” more than they point “outward” now, they’re still decent looking girls.
After all was said and done, I will admit she was good and she was fast and physically there was no pain, but the mental anguish will haunt me forever.
Now I know how men must feel when they get those spam emails urging them to buy their product in order to “Make your dick bigger”.
I think when I get there today, I will go ahead and tell her to please fetch the small plates before we even begin.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
CA 125
My test results were "normal". She said it was a 10 and anything under 34 is good. She still wants to take a peek at the ovary in a few weeks though...She must need a little extra for her Christmas shopping.
You know...it just occured to me...I have NEVER been a 10.
You know...it just occured to me...I have NEVER been a 10.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Ovarian Cancer and KOOLS
I went back for my vaginal ultrasound yesterday. My doctor had ordered it based on some symptoms I was having and the pelvic she had performed last week.
I must admit, that technician who did the ultrasound was good! She was so calm and she just really knew how to put one at ease during what could be considered a very embarrassing situation, (and no - no one even offered me a cigarette afterwards). Kudos to her.
I knew something was wrong before the ultrasound was done. The tech had been talking and we were laughing about the fact that when I was pregnant both times, they only did ultrasounds if something was wrong. I had told her my daughter showed me ultrasound pictures from her three girls and I would always smile and say “Ohhhhhhhhh” but really I couldn’t tell there was anything there. To me it looked like snow on the TV did back in the day when channels actually went off the air at midnight.
She had explained the right ovary to me, and how she could see the cysts on it from the years of PCOS. She told me my uterus looked normal. Then she got to my left side and stayed there much longer than she did anywhere else and she didn’t talk any more.
I never even asked her about it, even though the silence was so obvious.
Basically it boils down to this... the doctor said there is definitely something on my left ovary and it was solid and hard. She drew for a CA125 before I left and we should know those results on Monday, but from everything I've read, the CA125 really isn't that accurate - lots of false positives and negatives. I read it is mostly used during the treatment of ovarian cancer to watch the progress or non-progress of the treatment.
Regardless, she wants another ultrasound (almost like sex twice in a two month period - wow! More action that I've seen in a couple of years. Snort-snort) in 6 weeks and if it isn't gone she said I will need surgery to remove it and do a biopsy and they'll look around in there to see if they see if there is anything suspicious looking. I wonder, if I throw an extra $500 their way, if they would yank some fat out since they're gonna be in there anyway???
I'd tell you the dimensions of the little bugger, but when she told me the first half of the dimensions (1.5 ct) my mind just went blank. I guess I was shocked that they found anything. I remember thinking, “She sounds just like she is in a well talking”.
I didn't tell my husband until last night. I didn't want it to sound like I was scared or anything, so I just casually mentioned it a few hours after I got home.
I have had all the symptoms except for ascites. I felt like something was wrong. I made this appointment 4 months ago. This doctor is always backed way up. Then when my appointment came up they called and cancelled it because she was gone to a funeral out of town, so I had to wait 2 more months.
I’m really not afraid, I have a weird feeling, but I wouldn’t call it fear. I know one thing, if they tell me I don’t have long left, I’m buying me a carton of Kools. I have not smoked in 9 months and 12 days, but if this is how it turns out, I'm smokin!
I must admit, that technician who did the ultrasound was good! She was so calm and she just really knew how to put one at ease during what could be considered a very embarrassing situation, (and no - no one even offered me a cigarette afterwards). Kudos to her.
I knew something was wrong before the ultrasound was done. The tech had been talking and we were laughing about the fact that when I was pregnant both times, they only did ultrasounds if something was wrong. I had told her my daughter showed me ultrasound pictures from her three girls and I would always smile and say “Ohhhhhhhhh” but really I couldn’t tell there was anything there. To me it looked like snow on the TV did back in the day when channels actually went off the air at midnight.
She had explained the right ovary to me, and how she could see the cysts on it from the years of PCOS. She told me my uterus looked normal. Then she got to my left side and stayed there much longer than she did anywhere else and she didn’t talk any more.
I never even asked her about it, even though the silence was so obvious.
Basically it boils down to this... the doctor said there is definitely something on my left ovary and it was solid and hard. She drew for a CA125 before I left and we should know those results on Monday, but from everything I've read, the CA125 really isn't that accurate - lots of false positives and negatives. I read it is mostly used during the treatment of ovarian cancer to watch the progress or non-progress of the treatment.
Regardless, she wants another ultrasound (almost like sex twice in a two month period - wow! More action that I've seen in a couple of years. Snort-snort) in 6 weeks and if it isn't gone she said I will need surgery to remove it and do a biopsy and they'll look around in there to see if they see if there is anything suspicious looking. I wonder, if I throw an extra $500 their way, if they would yank some fat out since they're gonna be in there anyway???
I'd tell you the dimensions of the little bugger, but when she told me the first half of the dimensions (1.5 ct) my mind just went blank. I guess I was shocked that they found anything. I remember thinking, “She sounds just like she is in a well talking”.
I didn't tell my husband until last night. I didn't want it to sound like I was scared or anything, so I just casually mentioned it a few hours after I got home.
I have had all the symptoms except for ascites. I felt like something was wrong. I made this appointment 4 months ago. This doctor is always backed way up. Then when my appointment came up they called and cancelled it because she was gone to a funeral out of town, so I had to wait 2 more months.
I’m really not afraid, I have a weird feeling, but I wouldn’t call it fear. I know one thing, if they tell me I don’t have long left, I’m buying me a carton of Kools. I have not smoked in 9 months and 12 days, but if this is how it turns out, I'm smokin!
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Temporarily Sane
Get it? Temporarily SANE???
Yep. All hell is just breaking forth all around me the past week and I am NOT LOSING MY MIND!!! That my internectory friends, is a not very small miracle.
Maybe it is not temporary, maybe the Lamictal is what I needed all along.
I'm calm. I just wanted you all to know.
Peace........
Yep. All hell is just breaking forth all around me the past week and I am NOT LOSING MY MIND!!! That my internectory friends, is a not very small miracle.
Maybe it is not temporary, maybe the Lamictal is what I needed all along.
I'm calm. I just wanted you all to know.
Peace........
Friday, October 05, 2007
Pap Smears, PCOS & Ambush of a Rectum
I went to the gynecologist today. First time since 2002.
Now before ya'll go all fanatical on me, I HAVE been having pap smears, I’ve just been letting my primary physician do them. I went to the Gyn today because I’ve been having some funky pain and thought she might know more what’s going on “down there”.
Evidently in a five year period we can have enormous mental and/or emotional changes. Either that or the memory just goes straight to hell. I had completely forgotten what it was like to sit in the waiting room of an Ob/Gyn’s office. Everybody is so effing pregnant! If they’re not looking like they swallowed a watermelon, they’re pushing 10 pounds of screaming flesh around in a cart.
Speaking of carts, that’s something I have NEVER understood. That tiny baby weighs how much? 10 – 15 pounds? How frigging much does all that other apparatus weigh??? I have never understood why people drag all that crap around to tote their baby in when they could just…oh I don’t know…TOTE THE BABY!?!? Anywho, that’s a completely different rant. Back to all the preggos in the waiting room…
I am 47 years old. My ovaries probably ain’t spitting out nothing more than shriveled smelly eggs, but seeing all the preggos was very depressing for me. I couldn’t a bit more handle a baby now than I could perform brain surgery, but gosh my uterus just ached seeing all the cute little spitting machines and the lovely, sensual rounded bellies.
Just before the tears started, my name was called from back somewhere deep in the pits of hell. Then the assault began. I go back to the little room where they hand you the nice little “open in the front” paper robe. These come with little plastic belts to tie it closed. I am assuming it was a belt. It was lying there on top of the robe. It looked like what I floss my teeth with but hey, the world is not made for grown-up sized women is it? They also hand you this piece of paper “for your lap”. For my lap!?!?! Sh*!&... I know and they know and they know that I know that piece of paper was for covering my Bojingo. They know that cute little robe ain’t gonna cover all my junk.
So the doc comes in, all fast and seemingly in a hurry. She does a breast exam and is asking me questions the entire time. Then she says, “Ok. Put your little feet in the stirrups for me”. I’m sitting there thinking who the hell else is in this room, cause I KNOW she ain’t referring to my feet as little. Had she told me to slide my little ass to the edge, I would have laughed out loud.
Now, Scalpel, over at Scalpel or Sword had a post this week about this subject. The title, I think, was Medical Student Tips - Using the Speculum. I read all kinds of comments about what docs can do to put the woman more at ease during this what can be an uncomfortable procedure. This doc obviously did not read Scalpels blog that day.
My gosh, I gave birth to two large children, the last one without medication of any kind. It's not like I am this 100% pure wimpy woman or anything, but that speculum was shoved in as if she were in some sick type of contest. Soon as that cold metal struck my tender flesh, I immediately thought about what I said in the comment section of Scalper or Sword on the subject. About how I would rather have paps than go to the dentist any day. Not sure I feel that way any more.
After the assult on my cervical os with that little steel wire brush, she hands off the speculum to the assistant in the room and sneaks her friggin ARM up my arse while putting her other arm in the ole Bojingo. I believe this is referred to as the rectovaginal component of the exam. Way too fancy sounding terminology for it if you ask me.
Maybe it’s my age, but I really don’t look forward to that next year, even if it was the most action that part of my anatomy has seen in a while.
I’ll go to my family doc from now on. He at least offers me a cigarette afterwards.
Now before ya'll go all fanatical on me, I HAVE been having pap smears, I’ve just been letting my primary physician do them. I went to the Gyn today because I’ve been having some funky pain and thought she might know more what’s going on “down there”.
Evidently in a five year period we can have enormous mental and/or emotional changes. Either that or the memory just goes straight to hell. I had completely forgotten what it was like to sit in the waiting room of an Ob/Gyn’s office. Everybody is so effing pregnant! If they’re not looking like they swallowed a watermelon, they’re pushing 10 pounds of screaming flesh around in a cart.
Speaking of carts, that’s something I have NEVER understood. That tiny baby weighs how much? 10 – 15 pounds? How frigging much does all that other apparatus weigh??? I have never understood why people drag all that crap around to tote their baby in when they could just…oh I don’t know…TOTE THE BABY!?!? Anywho, that’s a completely different rant. Back to all the preggos in the waiting room…
I am 47 years old. My ovaries probably ain’t spitting out nothing more than shriveled smelly eggs, but seeing all the preggos was very depressing for me. I couldn’t a bit more handle a baby now than I could perform brain surgery, but gosh my uterus just ached seeing all the cute little spitting machines and the lovely, sensual rounded bellies.
Just before the tears started, my name was called from back somewhere deep in the pits of hell. Then the assault began. I go back to the little room where they hand you the nice little “open in the front” paper robe. These come with little plastic belts to tie it closed. I am assuming it was a belt. It was lying there on top of the robe. It looked like what I floss my teeth with but hey, the world is not made for grown-up sized women is it? They also hand you this piece of paper “for your lap”. For my lap!?!?! Sh*!&... I know and they know and they know that I know that piece of paper was for covering my Bojingo. They know that cute little robe ain’t gonna cover all my junk.
So the doc comes in, all fast and seemingly in a hurry. She does a breast exam and is asking me questions the entire time. Then she says, “Ok. Put your little feet in the stirrups for me”. I’m sitting there thinking who the hell else is in this room, cause I KNOW she ain’t referring to my feet as little. Had she told me to slide my little ass to the edge, I would have laughed out loud.
Now, Scalpel, over at Scalpel or Sword had a post this week about this subject. The title, I think, was Medical Student Tips - Using the Speculum. I read all kinds of comments about what docs can do to put the woman more at ease during this what can be an uncomfortable procedure. This doc obviously did not read Scalpels blog that day.
My gosh, I gave birth to two large children, the last one without medication of any kind. It's not like I am this 100% pure wimpy woman or anything, but that speculum was shoved in as if she were in some sick type of contest. Soon as that cold metal struck my tender flesh, I immediately thought about what I said in the comment section of Scalper or Sword on the subject. About how I would rather have paps than go to the dentist any day. Not sure I feel that way any more.
After the assult on my cervical os with that little steel wire brush, she hands off the speculum to the assistant in the room and sneaks her friggin ARM up my arse while putting her other arm in the ole Bojingo. I believe this is referred to as the rectovaginal component of the exam. Way too fancy sounding terminology for it if you ask me.
Maybe it’s my age, but I really don’t look forward to that next year, even if it was the most action that part of my anatomy has seen in a while.
I’ll go to my family doc from now on. He at least offers me a cigarette afterwards.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Modesty & Farting, They Can Co-exist
The second day my husband and I lived together, we had butterbeans for lunch. I don't know WHAT I was thinking. I KNEW better.
This was on Saturday afternoon.By Saturday night, I was in such pain it wasn't even close to being funny. We were living in a very small apartment. One bathroom and it was right there at the doorway of both the bedroom and the living room - like I said, small apartment.
By Sunday, I am just miserable...moving slowly, not bending over, not lifting anything heavy, etc., just trying not to rip one. I had to go to work at 3:30 that afternoon so I'm feeling pretty good because I know once I get in the van to go to work, I can let 'er rip and the pain will go away.
I dress for work and get all ready to go and what do you know but hubby wants to "DRIVE" me to WORK!?!? WHY????? Why today of all days do you want to drive me to work?????
So we get in the car and off we go. I'm sitting there just trying not to breathe very hard because my colon had gotten all used to the idea that it was about time it could relax and now here we were closed up in a vehicle.
He drives up to my workplace and I crawl so slowly out of the seat (we're in a van that is pretty high up and I really am trying not to hit the ground too hard) and he leans to kiss me so I "lock everything up" so I can lean over and kiss the man without blowing him out the driver side door.
The minute he drives off, I mean the nano-second the man hits the gas and the van is moving forward ---- you better believe I let go with everything I had. I just KNEW I was going to have to run to the bathroom and check my "Just My Size" panties.
There were no insects flying around that corner of the parking lot the remainder of the evening and I didn't EVEN care who was getting out of their car close-by. They would just have to get over it, and it would be best they NOT light a cigarette anytime soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
