cindy's world

Something’s getting wronger with me. The fever is at an all-time high and everything, externally AND internally, hurts. I feel like my organs are twisting up and my brain is screaming about being smothered as the pressure in my head heightens. My eyes are burning, and I’ve been sipping water at my desk all day but have not gone to the bathroom, so I think I’m burning it all off or something. My joints ache and my face is so hot that I keep putting my ice-cold hands on my forehead and eyelids because it temporarily relieves some of the discomfort, but I think the jurors (who sit facing me) are taking my cupping my face and head every 2 minutes as a sign that I’m not liking the DA’s closing argument. And I’m cold. I’m freezing. And the formation of goosebumps on my arms hurt my skin. If I get delirious, things may get more interesting in here.

*gag* Uh-oh, the nausea is back…

After writing the Cirque post, I drove home right away but was unable to fall asleep until almost 3am, and woke up at 6a to go to work early. I rose with a knot in my stomach and gagged in the shower, almost throwing up and wondered whether vomit would clog my shower drain.

All day at work, I felt choked by a tightening from my diaphragm all the way up to my throat, and strange pressure from my neck to my eyes that made me feel like my head would explode, or my eyeballs would pop. I was also very aware of the sickening thumping of my heart in my ribcage and neck, and the fever I felt.

The very long workday was broken up at lunchtime when I drove in a big 7-mile circle for 45 minutes trying to find a gas station offering their goods for less than $3.50 a gallon, and finally found a Unocal 76 for $3.45. I had half a mind to run a few miles at a local park and had planned with Mr. W on Monday to do so, but he hadn’t called and I hadn’t eaten, drank nor slept well so I nixed the idea. In pulling the pump out of the holder to fill my car, gasoline spurted all over my foot and car. But because gas was so expensive, instead of being upset, I shoved the pump as quickly as I could into my car because, hey, free gas. After I drained the hose in the pump, I slid my credit card and paid for the rest of the overpriced fluid.

Getting back in my car, I called childhood friend Lily back and we made dinner plans. Then I called my gym trainee, who’s on vacation this week, and made plans to work out together today and tomorrow. She wanted to drive all the way to the gym near our work because she had some errands that’d run her into the area, anyway. Then I called college roommie Diana on my drive back to work and told her about my gas experience. She said the exact same thing happened to her recently and she did the same thing. “Hey, it’s like, 50 cents there that you don’t want to leave on the floor!” We laughed at ourselves.

After work, Dwaine and I made post-dinner plans to hang out after an early dinner with Lily and her husband Arnold. Dinner was shared entrees of baby back pork ribs, a specialty salad, and jambalaya at Claim Jumper in Brea. It was nice to catch up with them, and they’re very comforting people. I got some good news from Arnold, who I only learned that night used to teach human fertility to other doctors. When dinner ended, Dwaine came to my house with a bottle of cabernet sauvignon, which we broke into right after I popped my favorite white, “Conundrum” by Camus Vineyards which is made from like 5 types of white wine grapes. Both the red and white were delicious, and I got to hear tales from Dwaine’s mac-daddy dating adventures. Both the time with Lily and with Dwaine made me appreciate people I’ve had in my life since junior high school with whom I could make absurd references about our more naive years, and enjoy the deeper, more heart-felt friendship that our wacky childhood bonds matured into.

I still awoke this morning with the same fever, lack of appetite, pressure in the head and eyes thing, but I didn’t gag. Throughout this whole thing which makes my head spin with thoughts about the past, present and future, what it all means and what I can do with any of it, I’ve felt balanced and unafraid. There was no alarm nor panic, and I was able to function and enjoy my life and friends. So I guess what I’ve learned is, I’m not alone, and I am whole now. My identity is no longer just who I am to one person, the past chains have loosened their grips on my spirit. That’s a battle I’ve fought hard in for the past few years. It may be ugly, but I can survive with my dignity intact, looking forward.

I recently returned from my parents’ house, where I fed their feeshies (mostly young tropical goldfish, plus a last surviving tilapia my dad caught fishing) while my parents are vacationing in Guilin, China this week. I was looking forward to hanging at the ‘rents by myself, as they usually have food in the fridge, which is a detail lacking in my own home. A huge, gaping detail. They didn’t have much food as they ate most perishables in preparation for their vacation, but I did dig out some multigrain rice which I ate with some bittermelon and cucumber cold dish my mom still had in the fridge. In the freezer, I was excited to find a few Marie Callender’s boxed chicken pot pies, and continued making a glorious pig of myself with one’s almost-immediate consumption. And then I saw that each pie contained 460 calories, more than half of which were from fat. Geez. What’s next? I dug some more in the freezer and found a cardboard cylinder of vanilla ice cream. Yech. It’s just like my parents to buy vanilla, what a waste of ice cream. If you’re gonna get that most sinful of frozen desserts, it should be worth your calories, you know? Like chocolate malted crunch, or mint chip, at least black cherry. But wait, what’s that in there? Another carton in a different color! I pulled it out. French vanilla. *sigh* About one-third of the way through the first carton, I managed enough willpower to put the spoon away.

What brings on the good appetite? Well, two things. I’m happy. I’m relaxed. After work today, Mr. W and I had a brief and affectionate chat about what’s making me drag my feet in all this wedding planning. I confessed I was giving him time to realize that this isn’t really something he wants to do as doing the domestic thing with me goes against all the plans for his future that he’d dreamed about before meeting me. After his two kids are well off into adulthood (son’s 18 and daughter will be 17 in a month), he was going to retire, sell his property, and travel the world like a vagabond. That lifestyle isn’t exactly conducive to raising an elementary school-age kid with me. He said that you can’t predict life and that sometimes you think a river is going to flow one way and then an unexpected rock or something makes it change its course; it’s natural. But a river isn’t going to wake up resentful one night cuz it’s stuck in a house in a California suburb instead of on a boat in the Caribbean because of a 5-year-old asleep in the next room that it didn’t want (to borrow an image from a friend). He laughed at me and said, “Go plan the wedding.” Turned out he had a whole other dream in his head now — one that involves being a retired dad, who’s going to bring his young hot Asian wife (okay, those are my edits) into early retirement so that we could be super-involved PTA parents, the kind of over-involved parents that other parents complain about with “Who calls a meeting at 10:40 on a weekday morning?! Don’t they have a life?” so that we could vote each others’ motions in without other parental intervention (joke). And when the child is young, we’d do “educational” travels with him/her in the country, and as the child got older, we’d do farther and more extended traveling, maybe during summer break, visiting our varied heritages in China, Taiwan, Germany, etc. Other kids get to look at photos of the Great Wall of China, our child will bring in show-and-tell photos of him standing ON it. That’s pretty cool. Altho I don’t think I’m game on the spending one year in this country, and the next in another country, thing. I’d like my child to have stable schooling, if possible, and not have to make new friends every year just to lose them again the next year. How traumatic. I love that I have friends with whom I could make some reference from decades ago, because they were there through some event with me.

The other reason I ate like a little piggy tonite is cuz my gym trainee and I stepped up our game at the gym this week. She’s now familiar enough with the gym, gym equipment, and proper form to really work on strength training. So we dropped our cardio down to just the 5-10 minute warmup in the beginning, and then we hit the weights hardcore. We increased all of our weights at least 20% and dropped our reps from 15 relatively comfortable reps to 10 very difficult ones, working to failure. And because we’re working to failure (stopping when we absolutely are unable to push another rep in good form), we’ve split up our target muscle groups into 2 days: Monday and Thursday are upper body (chest, back, biceps, triceps, shoulders), Tuesday and Friday are lower body (quads, hamstrings, calves, abs), with a day of cardio on Wednesday to rest, plus hopefully cardio on weekends. The results should be tighter, leaner muscles, increased metabolism, and improved strength. Several women have brought up concerns already that we’re gonna “bulk up”, to which I reply that we don’t have the testosterone in male bodies to bulk up, and we’re not going to take steroids to compete for Ms. Universe, either. It’s a pretty common misconception that women are gonna look like men if they do heavy weights, and hopefully my gym trainee (who did not have that misconception, much to my relief) and I will dispel that myth among people who come into contact with us. I observed very early on, like a decade ago, that you almost never see a fat chick on the weight floor, but you do see plenty of them on the cardio equipment and aerobics room. What’s that tell you? My gym trainee is looking great, by the way. Just today, someone stopped me in the Clerk’s Office and said that she noticed my trainee’s arms look toned, which she saw through my trainee’s sweater. “Did you tell HER that?” I asked the complimenter. She said she did. I’m glad my trainee’s getting verbal support, cuz I know that we certainly do get a lot of haters who tell us we’re obsessive and should skip the gym to indulge in lard-bucket lunches with them.

After two weeks or more of having cut lunches, working through lunch to meet some crazy demand of our jurors’, staying so late on the record into lunch that it wasn’t worth the drive anymore, getting shocking news from the doctor to drain my energy and motivation, and having the women’s locker room closed yesterday, I was beginning to think I was fated to not work out anymore. Today, my third attempt to hit the gym this week, I FINALLY got to work out.

Maybe it’s because of the weeks off, maybe it’s because I actually went grocery shopping for the first time this year and had dinner last nite, but I hit the weights with a vengeance. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t dispirited and drained after every set and I didn’t have to break up my supersets in order to rest. I was gonna write it off that I was just getting old, but today disproved that theory. I did the first two sets of my exercises at slightly elevated weights from what I’d normally use, and on the third and last set, I increased all the weights about 25% and hit reps of 10 instead of 15. I figured I’d train to failure, except I never failed. This shocked me, and is making me wonder whether I’d been weight-training waaaay below where I should be. My isolated lat pulldowns today went to 55 lbs per arm; I did single-legged squats with a 12-lb dumbbell in each hand; my supine chest presses were completed with a 20-lb dumbbell in each hand. And I could’ve pushed out more than 10 reps altho I hadn’t the time to test and see what my “failure” point is. I didn’t even get dizzy or light-headed, which usually happens when I’m PMSing (due to low levels of iron). And I am PMSing. When I took my bra off I could actually feel the weight of my bloated boobs pulling on my collar bones.

This is an interesting turn of events, and very inspiring. I’m definitely capable of cranking up the workouts, then. If my gym trainee reads this post, she’d tell me, “I’m scared…”

Since my doctor told me last week to schedule the operation within 6 months, I figured doing it in 4 months would hit it right in the middle toward the latter half of that time frame. Four months would take us to…February. No sex for the entire month of February. And then I almost burst out laughing.

My jury came back with their verdict today, after being told this trial would take 3 weeks and being here today for the 32nd day. I began reading the 20-page verdict into the record at 10:30 a.m., polled each juror as to each question (to make sure every question on the 70+ question verdict has no bigger voting split than the mandatory 9-3 maximum), and by the time we were done, it was 1pm and we’d worked through most of the lunch hour. The judge ordered the attorneys back at 1:45 p.m. to start the punitive damages phase of the trial, and with less than 45 minutes of lunch break permitted, I missed the gym for the second week.

I was really looking forward to starting a new workout regimen with my gym trainee, too. In the last 2 years we’d been working out together, I’ve brought her to be at my level (or better, depending on the exercise) for resistence training, which means she weightlifts what I do, or more. Her cardio is much improved, and she’s able to pull off supersets without needing breaks in between exercises. Our current regimen has us doing a 10-minute cardio warmup, then 3-4 weightlifting exercises hitting all the major muscle groups (legs, chest, back) in 3 supersets of 15 reps each, then a 10-minute cardio cooldown. She’s done really well with the added cardio and has lost a significant amount of body fat, so now I think we need to step it up. The plan is to really strength-train, i.e. hit only 1 body part a day and max it out at 6-8 reps of many exercises for that target muscle group, do different body parts each day in the week, and cardio on Wednesdays and weekends. This should tighten up our muscles and raise our metabolism from the extra muscle density. Not to mention the extra strength! (Don’t worry, contrary to non-weight-training girls’ beliefs, we are not going to turn into our Governator — women don’t have enough testosterone in the body to get muscular-bulky. And we’re not gonna take steroids or enter ourselves into Miss Olympia pageants.)

I was thinking I’d go to the gym today after work, but life is SO luxurious hanging out in my clean, vacuumed, candlelit living room with my cat, watching “Two and a Half Men” on TV and playing Bejeweled on my laptop, that I believe I’m developing sores on my ass from my leather couch. Oh well, tomorrow is another lunch.

I got this via secure medical-site email today. I believe this would mean it’s the 3rd worst-case-scenario. *cry*:

Received:
10/19/07 9:26 AM

Hi, I have the results of your cervical biopsies. Remember we did this to check to see why your pap smear was abnormal.

We found what we expected, PRE cancerous changes, NOT cancer. Remember, this is preventive medicine.
We should treat this (we have plenty of time) to prevent cervical cancer developing in the future.

The treatment I recommend for you is a LEEP procedure.
To schedule an appointment for yourself I would like you to call our pap smear coordinating nurse, [KB] at [#].

Here is some information on LEEP.

Dr [K]

What is a LEEP procedure?
It stands for Loop Electrical Excision Procedure. An electric ‘knife’ (loop) is passed through the cervix to remove a scoop of the cervix (as an ice cream scoop removes a scoop from the carton). The area that likely contains the abnormal cells is removed and examined microscopically for:
1- to ensure the changes are just pre cancerous and not cancer
2- to ensure that all the diseased areas are removed (we have to make a guess as to how deep to go – we can’t see it)

I do a LEEP with an anesthetic, just like the dentist uses so the LEEP doesn’t hurt. There are rare risks of bleeding and even rarer risks of infection.
After a LEEP there can be no sex or any vaginal insertion for 4 weeks – we need to allow healing.

What are the risks of a LEEP procedure?
1- Excessive bleeding – very rare. I need to know if you have a bleeding disorder (hemophilia)
2- Infection – Very rare
3- What about pregnancy after a LEEP? The majority of women who have had a LEEP have no complications with future pregnancy. However there is a small increased chance of a premature birth after a LEEP. There seems to be this same increased chance no matter what type of treatment is used for dysplasia.

What are the risks of doing nothing?
The pre cancerous changes could worsen over time and eventually turn into cancer.

Let’s see…it’s half past noon and I’m here online instead of at the gym. What’s going on?

My gym trainee stopped by before lunch and told me that after a late nite out, she’s too tired to go to the gym today, so she’ll sit this one out. While parking at the gym, I noticed that Mr. W’s car isn’t at its usual spot in the parking lot, which means that he’s not there, either. Motivation is so low at this point that when I saw that the one thing missing from my gymming outfit is a sportsbra, I justified that I can’t work out in my current bra, it’s too unsupportive, and I don’t want to wear a sweaty wet bra back to work, and celebrated internally and left the gym. On my way out I saw Mr. W’s car, he must’ve gotten there late. Oh well. Whatevers. That’s 2 days in a row of skipping (worked thru lunch yesterday individually copying and collating 780 pages of jury instructions), but I’m sleepy and tired.

Besides, I’m self-conscious about my Boot Camp scar/scabs now and don’t wanna be in shorts. “She HAD nice legs,” Mr. W said the other day. And days later, he remarked that the two thick lines of injury are gonna be “pink forever now” when the scabs fall off.
“YOU’RE pink,” I pointed out defensively.
“Yeah, but I’m pink all over. You’re just gonna be pink THERE,” he said. Ptth.

It actually wasn’t that bad. I was so nervous I think I was kinda shaky in the stirrups. The doctor was great. He came in the room like a big ball of sunshine and explained right away that this is preventative care (like I’d been telling myself), that “we’re not looking for cancer, we’re trying to figure out how to keep this woman from getting cancer in the distant future.” He viewed my innards with his microscope and said, “I can already see right now that this is not anything remotely serious.” Whew! His nurse and I chatted away while the doctor was examining, and it was more nervous chatter on my end and I explained that my brain does this self-sabotaging thing imagining something as way more horrid than it actually is. The doctor said that’s absolutely common and normal and asked if I’d like an anesthetic spray on the spot he’s going to biopsy. Despite the fact that I’d swallowed 3 extra-strength Tylenols half an hour before the procedure (I was advised to by the nurse on the phone) when I normally would have to be writhing and foaming at the mouth on the floor from pain for me to take any over-the-counter medication, I agreed to the spray. “It’s the same stuff the dentist puts on your gums before he gives you the shot,” the doctor said as he sprayed, and told me to expect a little fizzle and maybe a little stinging sensation. I felt nothing. We chatted as he gave the stuff a minute to work, and then went in for the biopsy. “You’re going to feel a little pinch at the most,” he said. I cringed. “Here comes the pinch,” he warned as I felt a little “clip” motion and heard the click. No pinch. He looked up at me. “Or not,” he said. “Here comes another one.” CLICK!
“Nothing!” I said in delight.
I told the doctor and the nurse about Flat Coke’s recent colposcopy where the inept nurse stupidly put both her biopsies in the same cup, making Flat Coke fear she’d have to re-suffer another biopsy to make up for the nurse’s idiocy. My doctor’s nurse lifted up two little purple-lidded containers and I got to see little pink flaps dance in the swirling liquid. “Two cups,” she told me and we laughed.
The doctor stayed behind and answered my questions, and then told me that he doesn’t think I have anything to worry about. He said he’d get the lab results to me in about a week and he’ll tell me one of three things: 1) it’s nothing and should clear itself up, we’ll just schedule for a regular pap smear in 6 months; 2) it’s something non-cancerous but we’ll just keep an eye on it to make sure it clears up, so come back for a pap smear in 6 months; or on the very unlikely small off-chance, 3) it’s pre-cancerous and we want to remove it so come back and we’ll do a procedure that’ll be even less painful than the one you just endured today.
Again, whew!
When I got home, I called my mom like she asked and it turned out that while I was at my appointment, she’d already called my (turned-off) cell phone multiple times in a panic and called my house and was disturbed at the lack of answer, and was about to email me at work, wanting to know how the procedure went.
Oh, and I never really got cramping from it. Just some bleeding (which the doctor told me to expect for 2-3 days, which is incidentally the same amount of time he told me to refrain from sex). I even hit the gym with Mr. W after the procedure.

…for colposcopies, I guess. I’ve never been one to follow trends, tho. *sigh* Mr. W took the day off to come with me in case I’m doubled-over in cramping and blood and can’t drive. The weather is appropriately overcast and rainy. Maybe upon our return it’ll be ripe for candles, hot chocolate and “Buffy.” Wish me luck. Here I go…