Seen on a billboard on the Parkway:
Play the lottery!
Cash prize: $0,000,000
Seen on a BBQ joint's letter sign:
Eat our fish Friday
or go to hell.
Happy Lent. And happy Daylight Saving Time. Don't forget to pick up that priceless lottery ticket.
"I know that it's true
All the things that I do
Will come back to me
In my sweet time."
-- Keep on Rocking Me Baby, Steve Miller Band
When I was in the hospital a few Sundays ago, there was a nurse there... a guy whose name I can't remember for the life of me... and he stuck my left arm to take blood and it was bliss. I mean, I didn't feel a thing.
In fact, when they suggested I might need a spinal tap I said I gladly would if the same nurse was administering it.
Today I went for run-of-the-mill blood work at a run-of-the-mill lab and I thought briefly as I was leaving that I might be incapacitated for the better part of spring. The woman rooted around in my left arm for so long that if felt like she left the needle in there after giving up on finding that I did in fact have some blood in my body.
The heart test earlier today was more bearable, but I was left with a bruise where she tried to jam the sonagram instrument under my rib cage. It's possible that she succeeded: I just kept concentrating on being able to breathe without sweating and setting off the electrodes taped to my chest.
But all the ordered tests are done. I'm mostly accustomed to the new meds. Things are looking good.
Work will be an ordeal tomorrow; a good one. It occurred to me that my best work so far is coming out of my sports assignments. Well, now I've been invited into redesign discussions. It's not where I want to be exactly, and I see a lot of work that needs to be done in a lot of other places... but I kind of did a double-take on this one after some research. We're doing a tab sports section, something uncommon for a broadsheet, and we have a chance to knock it out of the park.
This could be good.
But you know what's better? I DIDN'T WEAR A COAT TO WORK TODAY. It's not incredibly warm, but it's warm enough. Everyone's talking about the weather. It's supposed to be 70 on Friday. If I plan it right, I will be in the office just enough here and there to convince people I actually showed up to do work.
"Instant karma’s gonna get you,
Gonna knock you off your feet."
-- We All Shine On, John Lennon
I woke up from a nap today around 2 p.m.
I had been dreaming about fishing, but I dreamed that I had snagged something rather than catching it, and my first impression was that it was a dog, a dog with a fin, but it appeared to be a fish once I reeled it in. People on the pier were cheering, but I didn't understand why...
It's almost cheating if you snag it. There's no skill and lots of luck involved, but it's no dignified way to land a fish the size of a dog.
I had fallen asleep curled up on the couch with Zoe. When I awoke, I found Joe had managed to curl up on the couch with us and had fallen asleep. So I did what any woman would do when wedged between two sleeping loved ones in the middle of the day: I thought about dogfish dreams.
And I concluded: Hey, sometimes you snag 'em.
So what, if it's a keeper.
"The rich stay healthy,
The sick stay poor."
-- God Part II, U2
I went back to work today after three days of nearly constant sleeping.
The stomach flu attacks. I haven't had the stomach flu since... well, since I lived in Pittsburgh 14-plus years ago. Welcome home.
I can't complain. The worst lasted only a day; my brother had it for most of last week.
PLEASE UPGRADE ME TO A WHEELCHAIR NOW.
In all seriousness, I felt great today. I vow to not complain about the BP medicine's side effects again, because being in bed for almost three days puts a lot into perspective. I couldn't stay awake long enough to make sense of any soaps. Sheesh.
Pittsburgh was in a semi-lockdown today. There were reports of a sniper on a rooftop downtown, and suddenly the newsroom was in motion. Outside, bridges and tunnels were shut down, blocks were blocked off, cops and helicopters swarmed the triangle. People fled from buildings, and those who could stayed put. Us peripheral newsroom people kept on the periphery, but it was impossible to ignore the excitement generating.
For two hours this buzz sustained us, only to find out it was some employee who had brought a pellet gun to work to chase pigeons off the roof at his steam plant. As one of my favorite editors in South Florida put it, "That went from 1A to a brief pretty fast."
Indeed.
At the news meeting this afternoon, we all got a chuckle. The bat phone rang, and some of the dozen in the room managed to not only identify the noise (no one ever calls on it), but to answer it.
"Hi, this is Lorraine from the [other paper] calling. We'd like to offer you a free subscription from Monday through Saturday..."
They let her go on and gave her some shit, but ultimately they let her off easy. After hanging up, we all agreed that probably no one in the building knew what the hell the bat phone's number was. What luck, Lorraine. (Call me at home.)
I think I have a few updates to attend to:
- The MRI results are in: no sign of an aneurysm, just screwed up sinuses. More tests to come.
- The dog tests came back: Sarah has been diagnosed as fat.
- The Chia pet is alive and well again. Yay!
- Our Florida trip is postponed until May. It appears it would cost me a grand to come down during Easter/Spring Break. Ain't happening.
- Barring any new medical catastrophes, house-hunting will resume this weekend. (Joe keeps joking that he's made reservations for us -- at a new hospital.)
- It's still cold as hell. There were flurries today. Happy spring.
Must..... sleep....................
Driving has become a chore. Most times when I'm going somewhere, I find that either my mind drifts off, or I actually, almost, drift off.
I started blood pressure medicine Wednesday or Thursday. The doctor said it might slow me down; he didn't suggest I'd develop narcolepsy! I tried twice today (in between my three naps) to go grocery shopping, but I was afraid I'd end up curling up on the floor in the produce aisle.
They say I'll get used to it. I hope that means I'll adjust positively to the meds rather than tolerate being so tired. What disturbs me is that my BP has not gone down, and I don't like taking medicine. On the upside, no more signs of migraines.
The MRI was a challenge I didn't see coming. The test-runner person put a cage around my head and slipped me into a box, saying, "If you want out at any time, just say so." I immediately said, "OUT." If there's a next time, I'll check YES next to the Valium and put a bunch of exclamation points after it.
I am getting very, very sleepy.... so I..............................
Oh yeah. I'll wrap this up with a Pittsburgh dialect lesson.
"Sco." It means "let's go," as in, "You ready? Sco." Or, "Sco dahn ta dat new place inna Sahsside."
"This doesn't have to be anything at all."
-- Stop Draggin' My Heart Around, Stevie Nicks
I am officially old.
Zoe's doctor appointment cleared her of any lingering illnesses, but my appointment raised more questions than answers.
I have hypertension. That is the only fact I left with. I am 32 years old with no family history of high blood pressure, but there it is.
I had a CT scan Sunday that revealed nothing, but I'm going for an MRI on Saturday that I guess is supposed to rule out an aneurysm. That's better than the spinal tap that was suggested I suppose. This is all to rule out a very extremely remote possibility that my headaches are something other than migraines causing or caused by my blood pressure.
After talking to my doctor, I realize this is something I've probably had for a while. In hindsight, I remember wondering about certain symptoms, mostly red hands and being so very tired so very suddenly, like I could just close my eyes and sleep at my desk. And then I consume the hell out of coffee, which probably doesn't help.
I have a heart test lined up too to make sure there's no damage in case this has, in fact, existed for longer than this past weekend.
My goal is to get off the BP medicine I started today. It's kicking my ass as well as my stomach. Reportedly I will get used to it in a couple months. Then they might up the dosage.
PLEASE JUST ISSUE ME THE CANE AND WALKER ALREADY.
I think I'm ready now for bingo games and Judge Judy. I practiced with an old lady in the waiting room today: While she adjusted her oxygen tank we bantered about Oprah.
During Zoe's physical this morning, she got a few boosters, and it just broke my heart. She handled it well enough, but I know she didn't see what was coming, and by the third one she was terrified. "I don't like that kind of doctor," she keeps telling me. "I don't like ones that hurt me."
I don't think the nurse liked it any better: She gave Zoe a long hug after it was done. That's got to be a tough job, sticking kids.
"No one on Earth could feel like this;
I’m thrown and overblown with bliss."
-- There Must Be an Angel, Eurythmics
It was 70 degrees yesterday. There's a thin layer of snow on the ground now.
I'm used to weather changing on a dime in Florida, but this is unreal.
I can't say that I care. I know at this point there will be no blizzards to impede me getting to work, and there will be no more cold snaps that will suck the breath out of me while I'm putting groceries in the trunk. The worst is over.
My personally sponsored work meeting went great. I thought five or six people would show up for my first ranting (it was scheduled before most people's shifts) but about a dozen turned up; with no pizza offered, I thought that was impressive for a newsroom operation. I guess the real reward will be seeing if it was worth their time to come back for the next one. I'll offer pizza then.
I'm not beneath a bribe.
I could spill about how insanely happy I am with Joe, but if that dam breaks, I might as well pour syrup all over this blog and be done with it.
I resisted it -- my female, Leo, superstitious, skeptical, German, stubborn, idealistic, quesadilla-loving self -- but I have fallen in love.
Shit shit SHIT.
I guess worse things have happened.
"You love this town,
Even if that doesn't ring true.
You've been all over,
And it's been all over you.
It's a beautiful day;
Don't let it get away."
-- U2, Beautiful Day
The morphine has worn off. I am tired.
I spent Sunday night in the ER with a headache-turned-monster. Things are looking fine, but since Mom died of head-related stuff, I take it seriously when I get like that. I am thankful it's not often. Zoe and I both have follow-ups on Wednesday to clear up our new 'Burgh aches and pains.
Outside of the hospital visit, it was a beautiful weekend. Despite the forecast for sunny skies, it was damp and cool and dreary. Pittsburgh never looked more wonderful to me. I went outside with Zoe and ran her up and down the driveway on her bike in between drizzles. I took a drive to a country restaurant with Joe and bought juicy Florida strawberries. It was WARM.
I could hear birds. BIRDS. I could see robins and blue jays, and there are spiders and bugs and I even saw a hornet scoping out the corners of my dad's garage. The bulbs are bulbing from from the flower bed and there are signs of creatures throughout the yard. I had the windows open as I took a stab at some cleaning upstairs, and it was so refreshing... and noisy.
People were out -- outside. There was sawing and hammering and revving and yelling and kids screeching. SPRING! I had the sunroof open on the way to work this morning, and at lunch time the city crawled with pedestrians coming out of their workaday cocoons, jacketless and happy. The silence of winter is lifting.
But it's supposed to be down to 30 again tomorrow. How can it be?
Tomorrow I throw my first meeting at work, yet I'm remarkably calm. Work is fine. House-hunting is fun. I'm crazy about Joe. I'm healthy enough for now. Zoe is doing wonderfully. And I'll be back in South Florida in a few weeks.
I think I can not only handle a bit more cold and snow, but I would appreciate the fucking hell out of it.
"We can never know about the things to come."
-- Anticipation, Carly Simon
My dad has been hounding me about my dog's health for the better part of a week. She squeals when she bumps up against something, moves her food dish around, grooms incessantly... but Sunday I really noticed that she was BIG. I mean, either I wasn't watching, or she puffed up overnight.
She weighed a little less than 40 pounds when I took her to the vet before the move. I'd bet she's pushing 70, with the bulk of that put on in the past few weeks.
"There's something wrong with your dog," Dad keeps barking at me.
I took her to the vet today. WHAT FUN. When I called to make an appointment, they said they were surprisingly slow for a Monday. Well, the doggie gods took care of that for me.
I walked up to the door at my appointed hour to find a weeping owner crouched outside with an animal wrapped in a towel and splatters of blood all around. Inside, there were at least three dogs bandaged up, either coming or going. There was a family of six that got the news while I was sitting there bantering with the youngest of the clan that their dog had to go NOW. If you ever thought a pack of howling wolves was impressive, imagine what four kids under 10 sound like when they learn Fluffy ain't going home.
At the end of our own visit -- two hours later -- Sarah let off her own melancholy howl just as they told me the tab for the visit. Now I really DO feel her pain.
As I strapped Zoe in her car seat, it occurred to me I hadn't really prepared her for this doggie doctor visit.
"Zoe, you don't have to tell EVERYONE after they pet Sarah that she eats poop."
There was no diagnosis off the bat. They took Sarah's blood and I managed to help get a miniscule urine sample by chasing my dog around the parking lot with a plastic tray. We'll get the results by Friday, they say, but the vet suspects a thyroid problem because Sarah gained so much weight so fast. I was skeptical about that assumption because I thought whatever it was she had must have caused the sudden girth to collect on her former waif-like dog figure.
I got home and told this all to my father. "Oh, that makes sense," he says. "I've been feeding her way more than normal."
"It's getting to the point
Where I'm no fun anymore."
-- Suite Judy Blue Eyes, CSNY
I have been sick as a dog.
I don't think I realized how damn run-down I was. Midweek the coughing started, then the headaches and pains and then by the weekend I was doubling over with every sneeze and evil thing that passed from my lungs.
I quit smoking. OK, mostly, but not really. I probably could right now if I wanted, but I'm not in a position to disappoint myself right now.
I just, ah, don't inhale.
I am not a fan of medicine, but I broke down and got some today. I am feeling better.
I did have my good moments through the weekend. I won't gush or bemoan or speculate or be skeptical, but Joe spent much of his weekend with me, the kleenex-consuming and boring thing of mush that I was. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard and so literally: even a chuckle brought forth spontaneous coughing fits and throbbing pain in my head.
I didn't think I'd stop laughing for even short periods of time, so I invested in some cough drops. Good thing.
I saw two robins in the yard today. Another good thing.
"I will walk along these hillsides
In the summer 'neath the sunshine
Feathered by the moonlight
Falling down on me."
-- A Murder of One, Counting Crows
I looked at the house today. It was gorgeous. Charming. It didn't have everything I wanted, but it had everything I needed. And at least three times more space than I'm used to after renting in Florida for 10 years.
I'll judge all others by it. The neighborhood is beautiful, so I think I at least hit that target.
One curious thing in the owner disclosure: Out of the three off-street parking spaces belonging to the property, one has been "amicably and historically shared" with the neighbors. Them's friendly Pittsburghers for ya. Letting the have-mores in the next lot park in the back yard.
My dad has been giving me the silent treatment about finding a house. Or so I thought: It turns out, it's the areas I'm looking. I researched the good school districts and found the most affordable neighborhoods with the best districts were on the north side of town. My extended family, almost exclusively, lives on the south side of town. I didn't realize this was an issue until he blurted out the other night, in front of company, "If you cross that river, you're cut off." He was talking about the Ohio River, which splits the Burgh's north and south.
Moving a thousand miles away: OK. Moving 15 minutes away: ATROCITY.
He went on to say no one in the family would be willing to travel that far to help me. But I got his message. I don't fully understand it yet, but I think I will in time.
I got my guy back today. He spent some time in, of all places, West Palm Beach. I played hooky from work and we goofed off most of the day, and it was ... sappy fun. I don't think we stopped laughing for more than a few minutes at a time. Yeah, sappy. Ugh.
He was even more than willing to be subjected for the first time to my dad today.
He (I'll call him Joe... 'cause that's his name) went with me and Zoe to look at the house. I spent most of my thoughtful time in the kitchen and he took his time inspecting house circuitry thingies in the basement. We stopped for a quick bite to eat afterward and I was impressed with his demeanor with Zoe. He didn't overstep: No gushiness, no trying to impress, not creeped out by a preschooler making a mess. He was just a guy eating pizza with us. Zoe was very nonchalant about him as well.
We dropped him off, and before I even pulled out of the driveway, Zoe says, "Mommy, do you miss Joan?"
"His name is Joe."
And yeah, maybe I do a little.
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