I have several posts in mind, mostly I seem to stumble over whatever I want to write, it's just not coming out the way I want it to. So, I'll just blurt it out, and see what the hell happens next, ok?
In December, we thought Julius wasn't speaking because his throat was raw from reflux and he needed more meds, and he did improve and said a few things more clearly once he got more, but then....something happened. And he got quieter and quieter, and one day, Mr.C turns to me and says, I think he's deaf. And we realized that he never turned around for noise behind him, ever. If we clapped very loudly and close, the reverberations might make him turn, but nothing else. I thought maybe it was earwax or fluid clogging up his ears, but the pediatrician kept saying it wasn't possible.
Everyone actually, just kept saying it wasn't possible. The said that earwax and fluid could never ever clog up a kids ears, that I must just be ignoring him, not speaking to him, that he must have some sort of developmental delay and I was making it worse. Daycare and speech therapy was the answer. Definitely not being near me, because after all, if he wasn't developing perfectly, it had to be his mothers fault.
The 8 minutes or so with limited oxygen? The amount of time he spent with no oxygen, completely unresponsive, no pulse, no nothing? The long family history of language, learning, and speech problems? Nope, all irrelevant, in the face of what we all know, is always to blame, bad mothers.
No one blames fathers, or doctors, or genetics, or crappy non-existent medical research, or just plain, old, bad luck. Nope, it's all of us shitty moms. Some of us even start to believe it, and think it might be true, and that maybe it's divine justice, taking revenge on us for risking pregnancy and birth another baby with our really bad medical history.
I pressed on, in the face of all that guilt and blame. I got a hearing test, and a referral to an ENT, and I went to a psychologist, and a speech therapist, and I put up with more blame and more decrees that daycare would "cure" his obvious neglect. At the first hearing test the audiologist did a basic test, and declared him fine. But I have no idea what on earth she was measuring because by the time we went to the ENT, he had a giant wax plug in one ear. So large, and so awful that my husband had to hold him completely still while surgical implements were used to pull it out.
The 2 hearing tests in a row after that were still showing loads of fluid so his hearing was muffled, likely with gluey fluid that most Docs can't see on sight, but hearing tests can detect easily. Yet for some reason, the ENT did not tell us the truth. He told us to relax, just come back in 6 months.
I learned long ago that if a Doctor tells me to relax, and I do it, I end up burying a child, or deathly ill. Never ever relax is my motto. I insisted on one more hearing test referral.
So while I suffered more insults and paid more money to speech therapists and psychologists and listened to more discussions of how daycare would cure everything, we had a flood. A giant flood. And we called in the insurance company who wasn't going to cover anything, until I called in a contractor and started pulling up the now moldy subfloors, and gee whiz. There was an open overflowing drain under the subfloor. Our drains were blocked by tree roots and all sorts of strange items, and over the last many years, the water had spread mold. Black mold. Did you know that Black mold causes sinus problems, and glue ear and tinnitus, and allergies and sometimes, excessive earwax in dehydrated kids?
So, one insurance claim later and several thousand dollars later, we have a ripped up basement, clean flowing drains, and way less mold, but until mid-october, who knows if it's all gone? We're breathing easier for now.
And the finale? On our last hearing test, Julius' ears were free of fluid and all obstructions, all earwax. His left ear passed, but his right ear failed.
My son is deaf in one ear, and has possibly had limited hearing in the other, and every single Doctor from birth onwards missed it, and never bothered to properly check.
But they never missed a chance to blame me. Proving that nothing ever changes. Nice.
I need to get into a pediatric hospital that can do more advanced testing now, and make sure that he can hear someday, and communicate someday. I don't know just how serious or mild it is. I only know that he has about 10 words, and is getting increasingly frustrated, and is very very far behind. None of the speech therapy we've paid for has worked. And because we've fallen through the cracks, and he wasn't tested properly at birth, I don't know if or when we ever will get into the kind of specialized hospital program that we need.
I need another miracle.
Showing posts with label medicine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label medicine. Show all posts
Monday, September 13, 2010
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Seeing clearly now
I am sorry to have abandoned you all, my what 10 blog readers now? Oy...bad me. I've been running around at home and to lots of other blogs and trying to catch up, although Mel's advice to just declare bloglines bankruptcy and start over is likely right.
Last week, after finding out my GP didn't have any Swine Flu vaccine, I took the kids out of school and lined up for the shots. We had to go to a couple of places and luckily I discovered they were giving them out downtown at Public Health's Head Office, and I begged and pleaded my way in. I'm sure that I had it and same with Mac, but since no one would swab us, I needed insurance for Kaz and the nanny and Baby Julius. The staff were quite hostile at first, and almost had a guard throw a bunch of us out, but we all just kept smiling and begging and eventually the crowd wore them down. We got in, and filled out the insane paperwork, and each sat for the shot. Luckily I remembered the infertility video from Youtube that showed if you relaxed the muscle, an IM shot was painless. Either let your arm go totally limp, or stand pigeoned toed if you have to get it in the gluteous maximus. (Heehee, that means bum!)
I'm quite amazed at the controversy over the shot. I mean, I don't love every vaccine out there, frankly some are overpriced schlock. But for any serious illness? Oy...every ICU in town is overflowing. Maybe it's because most people haven't seen the kinds of tragedy I have in life, but everytime I see someone writing cavalierly about all the deaths from this, it drives me crazy.
Like it can't happen to them, only to "other people" like me.
I'm the boogeyman once again. And on both sides! I'm the one with the dead kids so I'm the scary talisman to those afraid of the swine flu. And I'm the one with the kids with ADD/ADHD/LD, and Kaz and I have reactions to vaccines, so I'm the scary talisman to the people afraid of the vaccine. So can we talk about proportions and odds?
Swine flu does cause miscarriage and stillbirth and neonatal death due to prematurity, no question, but lots of other things do too. I would know. Trust me on this.
92% of unvaccinated pregnant women will not get so sick on H1N1 that they will be in hospital or on a vent or die. But 8% will. Where will you be? Well, 90% of my blog readers may be fine, but 10% may not. *
Which one are you? Fucked if I know....it's airborne...you breathe air? I do.
Vaccines do cause a few minor side effects like sore arms in some people. But not the majority of people. And they sure as hell don't cause ADD or LD. Those have some pretty strong genetic ties. Again, I would know. Trust me on this. But you and your kids are not going to have the rare odd neurological reactions that I have had for lots of vaccines. You won't have febrile seizures and motor tics for days and you won't feel like a truck hit you. (I felt that way after the meningitis vaccine for example, but I willingly did it, because meningitis is way worse. So my hand shook like a mofo while I drank my coffee for a while. Meh, it is what it is.) I am the one in a million medical oddity. You are the 999,999 out of a million. It's ok, I've accepted that fact. You can too.
If you don't accept that, and instead project all of your inner terror on me, it diminishes the very real suffering I did go through as I lost my babies. It also diminishes everything I have done to survive and thrive.
And that is not ok.
So do you think you could all stop the transference?
(Exceptions being anyone with their own shit....)
At some point we have to live and go on and try to enjoy life. I got my shot and feel fine. (Yes, I know....felt like I should report my incredibly strange for me non-reaction to Health Canada as well.) And I am going to keep trying to change and transform and enjoy my life even if something bad happens in the future. I have to. I can't just sit around waiting for the wheel of doom to run me over. It's gonna have to chase me if it wants me.
Anyway, I've been mulling things and I decided to go ahead with something I really wasn't sure about. LASER eye surgery! So today I will lie down on a reclining chair and willing let a strange man point a LASER at me andcarve a pentagram in my forehead gently shape my cornea so that I am no longer legally blind and wearing coke bottle glasses or contacts.
The contacts were getting hard to wear and I was constantly battling pinkeye. Really not ideal. At some point soon, I was no longer going to be able to wear them. Which meant verybadthings.
So at 11 am I'll be getting done. And for 2-3 days later I can barely even look at a computer screen. Something about glare? It will kill me! I'm going to ask Mr.Cotta to read me comments and posts and tweets and online articles so I don't lose my mind.
How in the fuck am I going to live for 72 whole hours without the internet? This could be--an adventure. I guess we'll have to see!
*Numbers approximate for sake of conversation
Last week, after finding out my GP didn't have any Swine Flu vaccine, I took the kids out of school and lined up for the shots. We had to go to a couple of places and luckily I discovered they were giving them out downtown at Public Health's Head Office, and I begged and pleaded my way in. I'm sure that I had it and same with Mac, but since no one would swab us, I needed insurance for Kaz and the nanny and Baby Julius. The staff were quite hostile at first, and almost had a guard throw a bunch of us out, but we all just kept smiling and begging and eventually the crowd wore them down. We got in, and filled out the insane paperwork, and each sat for the shot. Luckily I remembered the infertility video from Youtube that showed if you relaxed the muscle, an IM shot was painless. Either let your arm go totally limp, or stand pigeoned toed if you have to get it in the gluteous maximus. (Heehee, that means bum!)
I'm quite amazed at the controversy over the shot. I mean, I don't love every vaccine out there, frankly some are overpriced schlock. But for any serious illness? Oy...every ICU in town is overflowing. Maybe it's because most people haven't seen the kinds of tragedy I have in life, but everytime I see someone writing cavalierly about all the deaths from this, it drives me crazy.
Like it can't happen to them, only to "other people" like me.
I'm the boogeyman once again. And on both sides! I'm the one with the dead kids so I'm the scary talisman to those afraid of the swine flu. And I'm the one with the kids with ADD/ADHD/LD, and Kaz and I have reactions to vaccines, so I'm the scary talisman to the people afraid of the vaccine. So can we talk about proportions and odds?
Swine flu does cause miscarriage and stillbirth and neonatal death due to prematurity, no question, but lots of other things do too. I would know. Trust me on this.
92% of unvaccinated pregnant women will not get so sick on H1N1 that they will be in hospital or on a vent or die. But 8% will. Where will you be? Well, 90% of my blog readers may be fine, but 10% may not. *
Which one are you? Fucked if I know....it's airborne...you breathe air? I do.
Vaccines do cause a few minor side effects like sore arms in some people. But not the majority of people. And they sure as hell don't cause ADD or LD. Those have some pretty strong genetic ties. Again, I would know. Trust me on this. But you and your kids are not going to have the rare odd neurological reactions that I have had for lots of vaccines. You won't have febrile seizures and motor tics for days and you won't feel like a truck hit you. (I felt that way after the meningitis vaccine for example, but I willingly did it, because meningitis is way worse. So my hand shook like a mofo while I drank my coffee for a while. Meh, it is what it is.) I am the one in a million medical oddity. You are the 999,999 out of a million. It's ok, I've accepted that fact. You can too.
If you don't accept that, and instead project all of your inner terror on me, it diminishes the very real suffering I did go through as I lost my babies. It also diminishes everything I have done to survive and thrive.
And that is not ok.
So do you think you could all stop the transference?
(Exceptions being anyone with their own shit....)
At some point we have to live and go on and try to enjoy life. I got my shot and feel fine. (Yes, I know....felt like I should report my incredibly strange for me non-reaction to Health Canada as well.) And I am going to keep trying to change and transform and enjoy my life even if something bad happens in the future. I have to. I can't just sit around waiting for the wheel of doom to run me over. It's gonna have to chase me if it wants me.
Anyway, I've been mulling things and I decided to go ahead with something I really wasn't sure about. LASER eye surgery! So today I will lie down on a reclining chair and willing let a strange man point a LASER at me and
The contacts were getting hard to wear and I was constantly battling pinkeye. Really not ideal. At some point soon, I was no longer going to be able to wear them. Which meant verybadthings.
So at 11 am I'll be getting done. And for 2-3 days later I can barely even look at a computer screen. Something about glare? It will kill me! I'm going to ask Mr.Cotta to read me comments and posts and tweets and online articles so I don't lose my mind.
How in the fuck am I going to live for 72 whole hours without the internet? This could be--an adventure. I guess we'll have to see!
*Numbers approximate for sake of conversation
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Revelations
Nope, this ain't a post about the Bible. Or about my awful poop experiences. (Yes, I still have to make a complaint about the hospital---debating how to proceed.)
In the meantime, I've been trying to get my kids settled into school. Buying clothes and books and supplies and figuring out what each kid needs for forms and medication refills and labelling each and every scrap of everything and God knows what else. It's a hell of a production line, and really not my skill set. If I hadn't been doing this for years--I'd be utterly confused. As it is, this year, with my nanny it was markedly easier because after I bought the labels, she could iron them on, and if I got bogged down or discouraged by it all, she just kept going and asked me what else needed to happen.
And having someone who can do the boring parts, or just encourage me when I encounter a bump in the road? Makes a big difference.
It's the reason I hire my professional organizer to come in at least once a year, to sort out the piles of paper into nice neat files and help me throw away the junk and sort the toys into bins and figure out what has to go to storage and what has to stay here to be used next. I try to do it on my own--but I get lost. It's the ADHD or ADD or whatever the new name is. The medication fixes a lot, but not everything. Btw, yes, I think I may have convinced my doc to keep renewing my meds, but I still don't have a definitive answer. I have an interim prescription and she now has the reports from the shrink and the cardiologist so I'm hoping. In the meantime, we cross our fingers and pray.
And that's what the revelation part of this post is about. It's about all the people in the world who are in denial about the severity of ADHD. It's about all the doubters and the whiners and the skeptics who don't want to believe the science. They remain convinced that it can be caused by the moral failings of mothers, like the chemicals we evil moms use or the cars we drive or the food we serve or the negative thoughts we secretly harbour that make our kids sick. You know, like autism and cancer and paralysis and blindness and deafness and diabetes and freckles and every other damn disease cause by shitty mothering.
After all, it always the mother's fault, right? Right?
When I first entered the blogosphere I never mentioned that I had ADD. A friend of mine, an employment lawyer, had made it clear that in the real world, I would be instantly fired by anyone who found out, and that I would never be hired again, and so I knew how dangerous it was to self-disclose. In the Liberal Party, like all political parties, I'd be a pariah. (Half the party has ADD, and pretends they aren't self-medicating with double espressos at Starbucks. What? you thought those nasty exchanges in the House of Commons happened by mere chance? HA) And the many vicious nasty comments made to me, by Doctors, friends and relatives who found out? Oy...I stopped telling anyone. But blogging means sometimes commenting at odd hours. Long after my meds had worn off. And sometimes my comments were ouch...so I knew I had to give y'all a heads up.
And I mostly didn't blog about it. I don't even have a label of my sidebar. Can you say---SHAME? It wasn't a big deal though until I had to go off of it, or change meds or talk about the kids assessments and their medications. But it still bugged me to see ridiculous posts or news stories that were based on zero research and bad science. And all of it based on the idea that people would do anything, anything to avoid having that label on their kids and that medication given to them.
Then shortly before BlogHer '09, I found a referral on my statcounter for one particular mean-type website, and someone in the comments said I was a crazy drug user and had my kids drugged up. And then another person emailed me directly and called me a baby killer. And I froze and turned into a tiny little shrivelled up gutless wonder.
The only reason I even went to BlogHer was because Cecily said she would talk to me and we could hang out together. I worked on the assumption that not one other soul would even look at me, and in fact, that all of the attendees would call me a drug addict and a baby killer to my face out loud. And then laugh. I actually rehearsed in the mirror ahead of time what I would do when someone did say that to me. So I wouldn't cry or faint or vomit.
But no one said that! Everyone was really really nice. Not one person was even snarky.
The best part? When a couple of people came up to me and asked me about ADD and wanted to talk about their own diagnosis and their kids, and what I thought, and if they should get assessed, so they could get help. And all the evil troll words started to melt away, and the weight lifted and I realized that there is a point to me talking about my issues if it helps others.
You see, the Establishment in our society doesn't want anyone correctly diagnosed or treated for any mental illness. After all, if the current underclass was able to live up to their potential, what would happen? If all the brainpower and motivation in the world was harnessed and being used productively, I think our economy would soar. But then---the current members of the old boys club might not be on top. They and their progeny, just might have to work for a living. So it's better to blame Moms and tell everyone to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and work on their stiff upper lips. The media does a great job of spreading this meme.
So about yesterday. My husband's cousin stops by in the morning. She and I have been discussing our kids and their educations for years and her oldest son is gifted (an absolutely brilliant writer) and has some Asperger's/Autism features, but not quite all of them. He has huge trouble with math and can't plan his assignments and is very sensitive to stimuli. But not enough to precisely fit any criteria. It's kind of the maddening part of the assessment process. Often the psychometrist can't quite pin down a label, and god knows the Ministry of Education wets itself with it's desire for a label and demands it for each and every kid. Doctors can tell results accurately in terms of IQ score and fine motor control and attention ratings--but whether it's a central auditory processing disorder or a non-verbal learning disability or asperger's or autism or ADHD inattentive, hell, that's always a close decision. And her son has had all of those labels except ADD, until his latest assessment.
For 15 years, she has had every kind of LD help imaginable for him, from accomodations to special tutoring and public schools and private schools. Personal assistants and special day planners and organic food and all natural everything. They have literally turned their entire lives upside down trying to help their son, and his oh so similar younger siblings to succeed in school. And not one thing has ever worked. J, their oldest, is now utterly depressed and convinced that he will never make it to university or even hold down a job because he can't figure out what is going on in the world around him.
They have done everything right according to the ADD skeptics. They don't have cable TV, they barely have a TV at all. They only have a basic computer for work. They spend all of their time out in nature. She has taught him so much she practically has homeschooled him while he attended public school. He reads lots of books and there are no chemicals in their home. They don't even have any off-gassing furniture. All their food is made from local organic sources and never pre-prepared.
And none of it has ever done shit. Nothing. Not one bit of good.
And it never will.
Genetics is kind of unbeatable that way. You need actual medical care to treat a medical condition. Guilt and denial and judgement don't help, at all. I might have wanted to wish away my genetic clotting disorder, but the only way I could ever beat it and get a live baby was to take heparin. And I can wish until I am blue in the face, but my brain is my brain, and yes, maybe a little therapy can work on some aspects, but in the end, I have to accept my body and find a way to deal with it.
And so I opened up to her about my ADD and my medication and the boys and how it has transformed their lives and mine. I told her that I was extremely worried that Mac was becoming depressed last year and his self-esteem was very very low, and he was moody and sad. Then after he started medication and began to get A's and make more friends, it was much much better. He is so much happier it's hard to describe. I told her that before meds, Kaz was so distracted I was concerned that he would someday forgetfully walk into traffic and get hurt, and now, he can pay attention in class and understand everything. He still has some learning issues, but they mostly are writing and fine motor related.
And as I recounted the damages and injuries my kids and I had racked up over the years while unmedicated---the car accidents, the near drownings, the broken bones, and the lacerations, her eyes widened in horror and talk turned to her husband.
Her now retired, news reporter husband-- a wonderful writer who loves to sit and muse and make conversation, if only he could ever find his way to his destination. The artistically minded guy who dreams and writes books and literally does, wander into traffic. Really. When he isn't falling off of their roof or cutting his hands on the bandsaw or forgetting to file their taxes.
Never mind her connection to my husband's family and all of their interesting mental issues. The same issues that have allowed them to be come brilliant experts in their field and crusading entrepeneurs and owners of companies also mean that their edges are a little frayed somedays.
And all of those genetics have come crashing down and combined into our kids now. But because the Doctor who is seeing J. knows nothing about ADD, and is so focused on his sadness at failing, he thinks they should avoid ADD medications. So he continues to fail, and gets sadder about that failure every single day. The doc he is seeing thinks drugs could cause some sort of severe side effect. To him they are a "last resort." Meanwhile the kid drinks loads of coffee every day and is sinking into some sort of clinical depression.
So we gently discussed getting another opinion and talking to an ADD specialist or to our pediatrician and how the tablets only last 4 hours and the long acting 15 hours, and it's no big deal because the half-life is so quick as they leave your body. If it doesn't work, no need to take it. If there was a side effect, it would be gone rather quickly. She asked if I could talk to her oldest, convince him to try it, maybe tell him my story. Perhaps have our kids talk to each other. I told her I would be happy to.
As we talked, her face changed and I could see that she was beginning to think about all the ways in which her life might have been different if someone, somewhere hadn't been so opposed to diagnosis and medication for her husband, and her kids and maybe even herself. What if he had been diagnosed at an early age? What would his career have looked like? Would have have been so frustrated? Would he have needed antidepressants? What about her kids? Could she have had a career after they were born? Instead of spending her days and nights trying fruitlessly to solve his issues and get him therapy and school help...Would he have some friends? Would he be happier? Would they all be happier?
My heart is breaking for her. She is sitting at her house right now grieving the life her family might have had....if prejudice hadn't gotten in the way.
I wonder how many more families like this are out there, needing help, help they will never ever get.
In the meantime, I've been trying to get my kids settled into school. Buying clothes and books and supplies and figuring out what each kid needs for forms and medication refills and labelling each and every scrap of everything and God knows what else. It's a hell of a production line, and really not my skill set. If I hadn't been doing this for years--I'd be utterly confused. As it is, this year, with my nanny it was markedly easier because after I bought the labels, she could iron them on, and if I got bogged down or discouraged by it all, she just kept going and asked me what else needed to happen.
And having someone who can do the boring parts, or just encourage me when I encounter a bump in the road? Makes a big difference.
It's the reason I hire my professional organizer to come in at least once a year, to sort out the piles of paper into nice neat files and help me throw away the junk and sort the toys into bins and figure out what has to go to storage and what has to stay here to be used next. I try to do it on my own--but I get lost. It's the ADHD or ADD or whatever the new name is. The medication fixes a lot, but not everything. Btw, yes, I think I may have convinced my doc to keep renewing my meds, but I still don't have a definitive answer. I have an interim prescription and she now has the reports from the shrink and the cardiologist so I'm hoping. In the meantime, we cross our fingers and pray.
And that's what the revelation part of this post is about. It's about all the people in the world who are in denial about the severity of ADHD. It's about all the doubters and the whiners and the skeptics who don't want to believe the science. They remain convinced that it can be caused by the moral failings of mothers, like the chemicals we evil moms use or the cars we drive or the food we serve or the negative thoughts we secretly harbour that make our kids sick. You know, like autism and cancer and paralysis and blindness and deafness and diabetes and freckles and every other damn disease cause by shitty mothering.
After all, it always the mother's fault, right? Right?
When I first entered the blogosphere I never mentioned that I had ADD. A friend of mine, an employment lawyer, had made it clear that in the real world, I would be instantly fired by anyone who found out, and that I would never be hired again, and so I knew how dangerous it was to self-disclose. In the Liberal Party, like all political parties, I'd be a pariah. (Half the party has ADD, and pretends they aren't self-medicating with double espressos at Starbucks. What? you thought those nasty exchanges in the House of Commons happened by mere chance? HA) And the many vicious nasty comments made to me, by Doctors, friends and relatives who found out? Oy...I stopped telling anyone. But blogging means sometimes commenting at odd hours. Long after my meds had worn off. And sometimes my comments were ouch...so I knew I had to give y'all a heads up.
And I mostly didn't blog about it. I don't even have a label of my sidebar. Can you say---SHAME? It wasn't a big deal though until I had to go off of it, or change meds or talk about the kids assessments and their medications. But it still bugged me to see ridiculous posts or news stories that were based on zero research and bad science. And all of it based on the idea that people would do anything, anything to avoid having that label on their kids and that medication given to them.
Then shortly before BlogHer '09, I found a referral on my statcounter for one particular mean-type website, and someone in the comments said I was a crazy drug user and had my kids drugged up. And then another person emailed me directly and called me a baby killer. And I froze and turned into a tiny little shrivelled up gutless wonder.
The only reason I even went to BlogHer was because Cecily said she would talk to me and we could hang out together. I worked on the assumption that not one other soul would even look at me, and in fact, that all of the attendees would call me a drug addict and a baby killer to my face out loud. And then laugh. I actually rehearsed in the mirror ahead of time what I would do when someone did say that to me. So I wouldn't cry or faint or vomit.
But no one said that! Everyone was really really nice. Not one person was even snarky.
The best part? When a couple of people came up to me and asked me about ADD and wanted to talk about their own diagnosis and their kids, and what I thought, and if they should get assessed, so they could get help. And all the evil troll words started to melt away, and the weight lifted and I realized that there is a point to me talking about my issues if it helps others.
You see, the Establishment in our society doesn't want anyone correctly diagnosed or treated for any mental illness. After all, if the current underclass was able to live up to their potential, what would happen? If all the brainpower and motivation in the world was harnessed and being used productively, I think our economy would soar. But then---the current members of the old boys club might not be on top. They and their progeny, just might have to work for a living. So it's better to blame Moms and tell everyone to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and work on their stiff upper lips. The media does a great job of spreading this meme.
So about yesterday. My husband's cousin stops by in the morning. She and I have been discussing our kids and their educations for years and her oldest son is gifted (an absolutely brilliant writer) and has some Asperger's/Autism features, but not quite all of them. He has huge trouble with math and can't plan his assignments and is very sensitive to stimuli. But not enough to precisely fit any criteria. It's kind of the maddening part of the assessment process. Often the psychometrist can't quite pin down a label, and god knows the Ministry of Education wets itself with it's desire for a label and demands it for each and every kid. Doctors can tell results accurately in terms of IQ score and fine motor control and attention ratings--but whether it's a central auditory processing disorder or a non-verbal learning disability or asperger's or autism or ADHD inattentive, hell, that's always a close decision. And her son has had all of those labels except ADD, until his latest assessment.
For 15 years, she has had every kind of LD help imaginable for him, from accomodations to special tutoring and public schools and private schools. Personal assistants and special day planners and organic food and all natural everything. They have literally turned their entire lives upside down trying to help their son, and his oh so similar younger siblings to succeed in school. And not one thing has ever worked. J, their oldest, is now utterly depressed and convinced that he will never make it to university or even hold down a job because he can't figure out what is going on in the world around him.
They have done everything right according to the ADD skeptics. They don't have cable TV, they barely have a TV at all. They only have a basic computer for work. They spend all of their time out in nature. She has taught him so much she practically has homeschooled him while he attended public school. He reads lots of books and there are no chemicals in their home. They don't even have any off-gassing furniture. All their food is made from local organic sources and never pre-prepared.
And none of it has ever done shit. Nothing. Not one bit of good.
And it never will.
Genetics is kind of unbeatable that way. You need actual medical care to treat a medical condition. Guilt and denial and judgement don't help, at all. I might have wanted to wish away my genetic clotting disorder, but the only way I could ever beat it and get a live baby was to take heparin. And I can wish until I am blue in the face, but my brain is my brain, and yes, maybe a little therapy can work on some aspects, but in the end, I have to accept my body and find a way to deal with it.
And so I opened up to her about my ADD and my medication and the boys and how it has transformed their lives and mine. I told her that I was extremely worried that Mac was becoming depressed last year and his self-esteem was very very low, and he was moody and sad. Then after he started medication and began to get A's and make more friends, it was much much better. He is so much happier it's hard to describe. I told her that before meds, Kaz was so distracted I was concerned that he would someday forgetfully walk into traffic and get hurt, and now, he can pay attention in class and understand everything. He still has some learning issues, but they mostly are writing and fine motor related.
And as I recounted the damages and injuries my kids and I had racked up over the years while unmedicated---the car accidents, the near drownings, the broken bones, and the lacerations, her eyes widened in horror and talk turned to her husband.
Her now retired, news reporter husband-- a wonderful writer who loves to sit and muse and make conversation, if only he could ever find his way to his destination. The artistically minded guy who dreams and writes books and literally does, wander into traffic. Really. When he isn't falling off of their roof or cutting his hands on the bandsaw or forgetting to file their taxes.
Never mind her connection to my husband's family and all of their interesting mental issues. The same issues that have allowed them to be come brilliant experts in their field and crusading entrepeneurs and owners of companies also mean that their edges are a little frayed somedays.
And all of those genetics have come crashing down and combined into our kids now. But because the Doctor who is seeing J. knows nothing about ADD, and is so focused on his sadness at failing, he thinks they should avoid ADD medications. So he continues to fail, and gets sadder about that failure every single day. The doc he is seeing thinks drugs could cause some sort of severe side effect. To him they are a "last resort." Meanwhile the kid drinks loads of coffee every day and is sinking into some sort of clinical depression.
So we gently discussed getting another opinion and talking to an ADD specialist or to our pediatrician and how the tablets only last 4 hours and the long acting 15 hours, and it's no big deal because the half-life is so quick as they leave your body. If it doesn't work, no need to take it. If there was a side effect, it would be gone rather quickly. She asked if I could talk to her oldest, convince him to try it, maybe tell him my story. Perhaps have our kids talk to each other. I told her I would be happy to.
As we talked, her face changed and I could see that she was beginning to think about all the ways in which her life might have been different if someone, somewhere hadn't been so opposed to diagnosis and medication for her husband, and her kids and maybe even herself. What if he had been diagnosed at an early age? What would his career have looked like? Would have have been so frustrated? Would he have needed antidepressants? What about her kids? Could she have had a career after they were born? Instead of spending her days and nights trying fruitlessly to solve his issues and get him therapy and school help...Would he have some friends? Would he be happier? Would they all be happier?
My heart is breaking for her. She is sitting at her house right now grieving the life her family might have had....if prejudice hadn't gotten in the way.
I wonder how many more families like this are out there, needing help, help they will never ever get.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
More poo posts
Edited to add: this published with half missing and the date messed up--just adding it on and republishing.
So again, if you are reading me on twitter, you will know that I survived, but just barely.
First I'd like to say that Versed works for a lot of people. Kaz had it for dental surgery and for a few other stitches in the ER and never had a problem. Same for Mac. And for 89% of people, supposedly, it's just fine. But for me---oh no, nothing is ever simple for me.
I really am cursed.
The GI Doctor gave me versed, after I expressly told her not too. You see, she read the records I had sent to her showing that I woke up incoherent and hysterical after I had it before and she completely misinterpreted them. She thinks I was upset about the extra morphine I was given, and how dopey it left me. I tried to explain that the issue was that I freaked out after having Versed, not morphine and the record clearly shows that the first reation I had was then, but she just kept saying that I was going to be fine and that it was the combo of morphine, and don't worry she'd take care of it.
And I'm there, naked except for some stupid gown and she hands me the form to sign and I get up on the table thinking she's going to give me something completely different we discussed--because she said, "she'd take care of it"--and she gives me Versed.
I felt everything, and was half-awake and half-out of it and crying the whole time, begging for pain relief. Begging them to stop. They rolled me over, doing some strange thing to my stomach, which in my midazolamed state felt like the were pinning me down and beating me to death. No, of course they weren't actually beating me to death. But with that drug, for me, that's what I perceived.
I finally get into the recovery room, and I am surrounded by chirpy, perky patients who all act like they had just woken up from naps and some rather unfeeling nurses telling me to sit up and have some juice and gee, that wasn't bad, and what on earth is wrong with me, I just need to snap out of it. Meanwhile, I couldn't even sit up unassissted. This one nurse was incredibly cold, almost angry, you'd think that my inability to stand or walk or get dressed was done on purpose just to screw up her life. My poor husband, as we all know, trusts all doctors completely, and was justifiably confused that things were not going perfectly as planned. The nurses kept trying to make me get out of bed and told me to go to the bathroom, but every time I sat up, I fell over. Mr.Cotta finally lowered the head of the bed and told me to sleep and tried to find the Doctor, but she was busy with her next patients. After about an hour the nurses were on me again, trying to get me to sit up and take a walk. One of them got angry and told me I needed to get dressed and why was I doing this, and I should go get my clothes out of locker, but I just kept looking at her and blankly asking where I was and crying. She wasn't happy.
God forbid a patient not do what they are told.
Finally one nurse agrees to get the Doctor, and my husband tries to help me sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. He and the nurse literally had to carry me to the washroom, supporting my weight on each side. My feet didn't work. I looked like a non-cooperating prisoner being dragged down a hall. I had to have my husband with me, or I would have fallen off the seat. Somehow he gets me back to the bed, and the Doctor finally shows up. She tells me there was nothing inflamed on my colon or bowel and no polyps, nothing. There was one narrowing area that she was concerned about because it might cause a blockage someday, but it might have been due to adhesions from endometriosis.
And of course, she insisted that she told me that she was using midazolam. And I insisted she didn't. It was a senseless conversation that my husband cut off because he knew she'd never admit it was a problem. I popped a propranolol, went home and slept for a day.
I don't think she intentionally meant to cause a problem. Because really I don't think she believes that midazolam cause issues. What she doesn't understand, is that when people have problems with Doctors or hospitals or drugs or procedures, they tell their friends and business associates, even if they don't have blogs, and reputations and stories spread, virally, at dinner parties and over backyard fences and in casual conversations and the people who have bad reactions--don't come back. For example, she doesn't see many bad emotional reactions because people with PTSD are unlikely to voluntarily sign up for a procedure that involves sticking a tube up their ass.
They don't go to her, or her hospital, they go to other clinics, or arrange for other drugs, or they just never get screening checks done. One bad story can ensure that hundreds of people never get a lump or a bump or a screen done. And people die.
Which is why I want to find a way to make this story end better. I'm not sure who I am going to call yet, but I will complain. I can't just let y'all never get screened because my outcome gave me the willies.
Worst problem, people assume it's because of the health care system involved. But start googling--I know lots of people who have been treated in a patronizing patriarchal demeaning manner in every country. People with insurance, people without insurance, rich, poor, connected, and nobodies. It's the worst part about the healthcare debate. People hear a bad story about Canadian health care and wrongly assume it's because the government pays. Or Canadians assume the US is some sort of nirvana of perfection for health care. Meanwhile, in the US, just search a legal database for a litany of stories of jerk doctors and cruel hospitals. Really, there is a reason the U.S. Family Centred Care Institute spends so much time and money training hospital staff on how to treat patients.
Every country will continue to have poor health care outcomes as long as they refuse to listen to patients needs. We aren't robots to be experimented on. And standardized one size fits all answers really don't work.
Anyway, I'll keep you up to speed on what I do. Right now, I have to go out to a family event. One that deserves a post unto it's own.
Later....
So again, if you are reading me on twitter, you will know that I survived, but just barely.
First I'd like to say that Versed works for a lot of people. Kaz had it for dental surgery and for a few other stitches in the ER and never had a problem. Same for Mac. And for 89% of people, supposedly, it's just fine. But for me---oh no, nothing is ever simple for me.
I really am cursed.
The GI Doctor gave me versed, after I expressly told her not too. You see, she read the records I had sent to her showing that I woke up incoherent and hysterical after I had it before and she completely misinterpreted them. She thinks I was upset about the extra morphine I was given, and how dopey it left me. I tried to explain that the issue was that I freaked out after having Versed, not morphine and the record clearly shows that the first reation I had was then, but she just kept saying that I was going to be fine and that it was the combo of morphine, and don't worry she'd take care of it.
And I'm there, naked except for some stupid gown and she hands me the form to sign and I get up on the table thinking she's going to give me something completely different we discussed--because she said, "she'd take care of it"--and she gives me Versed.
I felt everything, and was half-awake and half-out of it and crying the whole time, begging for pain relief. Begging them to stop. They rolled me over, doing some strange thing to my stomach, which in my midazolamed state felt like the were pinning me down and beating me to death. No, of course they weren't actually beating me to death. But with that drug, for me, that's what I perceived.
I finally get into the recovery room, and I am surrounded by chirpy, perky patients who all act like they had just woken up from naps and some rather unfeeling nurses telling me to sit up and have some juice and gee, that wasn't bad, and what on earth is wrong with me, I just need to snap out of it. Meanwhile, I couldn't even sit up unassissted. This one nurse was incredibly cold, almost angry, you'd think that my inability to stand or walk or get dressed was done on purpose just to screw up her life. My poor husband, as we all know, trusts all doctors completely, and was justifiably confused that things were not going perfectly as planned. The nurses kept trying to make me get out of bed and told me to go to the bathroom, but every time I sat up, I fell over. Mr.Cotta finally lowered the head of the bed and told me to sleep and tried to find the Doctor, but she was busy with her next patients. After about an hour the nurses were on me again, trying to get me to sit up and take a walk. One of them got angry and told me I needed to get dressed and why was I doing this, and I should go get my clothes out of locker, but I just kept looking at her and blankly asking where I was and crying. She wasn't happy.
God forbid a patient not do what they are told.
Finally one nurse agrees to get the Doctor, and my husband tries to help me sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. He and the nurse literally had to carry me to the washroom, supporting my weight on each side. My feet didn't work. I looked like a non-cooperating prisoner being dragged down a hall. I had to have my husband with me, or I would have fallen off the seat. Somehow he gets me back to the bed, and the Doctor finally shows up. She tells me there was nothing inflamed on my colon or bowel and no polyps, nothing. There was one narrowing area that she was concerned about because it might cause a blockage someday, but it might have been due to adhesions from endometriosis.
And of course, she insisted that she told me that she was using midazolam. And I insisted she didn't. It was a senseless conversation that my husband cut off because he knew she'd never admit it was a problem. I popped a propranolol, went home and slept for a day.
I don't think she intentionally meant to cause a problem. Because really I don't think she believes that midazolam cause issues. What she doesn't understand, is that when people have problems with Doctors or hospitals or drugs or procedures, they tell their friends and business associates, even if they don't have blogs, and reputations and stories spread, virally, at dinner parties and over backyard fences and in casual conversations and the people who have bad reactions--don't come back. For example, she doesn't see many bad emotional reactions because people with PTSD are unlikely to voluntarily sign up for a procedure that involves sticking a tube up their ass.
They don't go to her, or her hospital, they go to other clinics, or arrange for other drugs, or they just never get screening checks done. One bad story can ensure that hundreds of people never get a lump or a bump or a screen done. And people die.
Which is why I want to find a way to make this story end better. I'm not sure who I am going to call yet, but I will complain. I can't just let y'all never get screened because my outcome gave me the willies.
Worst problem, people assume it's because of the health care system involved. But start googling--I know lots of people who have been treated in a patronizing patriarchal demeaning manner in every country. People with insurance, people without insurance, rich, poor, connected, and nobodies. It's the worst part about the healthcare debate. People hear a bad story about Canadian health care and wrongly assume it's because the government pays. Or Canadians assume the US is some sort of nirvana of perfection for health care. Meanwhile, in the US, just search a legal database for a litany of stories of jerk doctors and cruel hospitals. Really, there is a reason the U.S. Family Centred Care Institute spends so much time and money training hospital staff on how to treat patients.
Every country will continue to have poor health care outcomes as long as they refuse to listen to patients needs. We aren't robots to be experimented on. And standardized one size fits all answers really don't work.
Anyway, I'll keep you up to speed on what I do. Right now, I have to go out to a family event. One that deserves a post unto it's own.
Later....
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The post about poo
I am having a colonoscopy today and I've been tweeting about it since yesterday, so click on the sidebar thingy to read more. I'll blog more later, but the reason I need it, is because my lovely children keep bringing parasites back from their very expensive summer sleepaway camps.
And now I may have inflammatory bowel disease, which will cost the Ministry of Health a pile of money to treat. I could refuse to let the kids go to camp I guess, but then everyone would call me a bitch, or maybe I just need to insist that the Ontario Ministry of the Environment enforce the clean water regulations they keep saying they have. I know they don't give a damn about the Ministry of Health budget, but you'd think someone would?
Praying I don't die on the table here. Cause you know that all hospital procedures always go perfectly for me, and I never have any funny reactions to anesthesia. Sigh.....
But at least it's free right!
Sigh....
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Got any bootstraps?
I've been leaving comments and tweets, etc. that try to describe the very bad thing has happened, and not really explaining anything, so I figure it's time to say it here.
Two problems:
First: to any of my recently acquired political followers....I am an emotional writer and I know most of you are not, in fact, let's cut the crap, members of political parties are not allowed to simultaneously have both careers and emotions or mental illness or anything but serious debates and personal lives filled with elegance and sunshine and puppies.
So please go away if this makes you uncomfortable. Come back some other day, k?
Second: after my comments on some blogs recently, about the futility of getting help from doctors with infertility or pregnancy loss...I know that it hurt some of my personal friends to read that. Because they really really want to believe that their doctors care if they get pregnant or if their babies live or die, and I was perhaps too blunt. I really do need to stop that, at least on other people's blogs. It kinds sucks all the hope out of the room. They can come to my blog to abandon all hope, right?
So again, if you need to believe that Doctors give a shit if we live or die, and that medicine is about helping people attain a quality of life, you should look away. Because this story really will suck every last ounce of hope out of the room.
The story is that for many years I have had a mild PSVT, which is a spontaneous super fast heartbeat, that comes on and then goes. It can be serious, like with Atrial Fibrillation but over the last 15 years of pregnancies and miscarriages, etc. I have had extensive tests to make sure that mine is the nice mild boring kind. Basically, about three times a year, my heart races anywhere from 120-170ish beats a minute, for about 2 to 3 minutes and that's it. If it lasts longer than that, I just have to do a Valsalva Maneuver which means I push down like I'm pushing out a baby or pushing out a poop, and it ends. (I always call it a vulva maneuver, hehe.) It just ends. And there is no residual heart damage, no funny beats, no nothing.
After a while I almost forgot about it, until someone asked me specifically about heart issues. And then nine years ago I saw the episode of ER where the student Doctor admits to having ADHD and tries to go off her meds and they showed what she was like. And I saw myself on the screen and realized that it was me. I went to a Doctor, had a battery of tests and after a full assessment, started taking ADHD medication.
And the universe shifted on it's axis.
As far as the PSVT I've done holter monitors and BP checks and echocardiograms and stress tests and for the last eight-nine years I've been on my ADD/ADHD meds while those tests were done. And not once did I ever have a high blood pressure or a funny test result. If anything, I was the healthiest person my cardiologist had in his practice. I actually asked him why bother coming back, but he said hey, every couple of years, just visit and we're done. I do have the clotting issues that caused my miscarriages but my cardiologist doesn't think they are linked to heart issues, and I have none of the other risk factors like stiff arteries, etc that might mean I have a potential cardiac issue. So everything was fine.
Until I went to Vancouver and partied for 4 days at the convention. No sleep, bad food, drinking lots, Starbucks by the bucketful, and lots of stress due to events and then trying to get my breastmilk back to Toronto on the plane even though the Canadian government (CATSA) has illogically decided that breastmilk is a dangerous substance and breastpumps are bombs. Regular readers here know that any encounter with government makes me so anxious I want to vomit, so you can just imagine how bad it would be if I was forced to have an argument with a security guard. I mean adrenaline city here people. The Americans let breastfeeding moms bring pumps and frozen breastmilk without babies on their planes, and so does every other country and airline in the world. They know that moms need to keep up milk production and that forcibly dumping milk is ridiculous. Except for Canada....so I had stress.
So much stress that I had an SVT on the way home, and the valsalva thing didn't work, mostly because I wasn't pushing very hard. (Grunting like that in front of others is embarassing, and hard to do quietly on a crowded plane, ok?)
There was big drama blah blah blah and finally some medical personnel got me to push hard enough to stop it, and it was over and I felt fine. Even the doctor who saw me afterwards said it was ok, no issues, no problems.
The big problem happened later when I saw my family doctor, Dr.J., who abruptly decided that this means I can no longer take my ADHD medication. Even though I wasn't on any of the medication on Sunday and in fact, had this SVT happen when I had no medication at all. She will not renew my medication because she is worried about her liability and wants another doctor to spend months rerunning all these stupid cardiac tests and reassess everything, and possibly end my entire prescription forever. (Note: she does not think it's dangerous, it's all about getting sued. Plus she has never liked me being on any medication and this is the perfect excuse for her.) She also thinks it's no big deal to go without psychiatric medication for me or anyone else except the most severe cases and that I should learn some coping strategies.
Coping strategies??
That's right Doc, because a major biochemical imbalance of the brain can be dealt with by coping. In fact, I hear that all the mentally ill are just a bunch of fakers and drug addicts and lazy people, right? I'm such a slacker....if I just pulled myself up by my bootstraps, I'd be fine, right?
Sigh.
I have been in tears ever since, trying to figure out how much medication I have left and being terrified of what will happen when it runs out. I've been trying to find another doctor and possibly a specialist to do battle with them and convince them that ADHD is real. Still freaking wondering if I can I parcel my last meds out carefully, how many social events do I have? How will I appear in public? What will I do when I get lost, get into car accidents, get speeding tickets, lose my purse, lose my phone, lose my way, am late for every single appointment, school pickup, forget to pay bills, and most of all tell people off.
Off my medication, I am the master of the vicious retort, the nasty awful comment that hurts and tears down others. On my medication, I might think it, but I keep my mouth shut. Medical people call it inappropiate verbal impulsivity. I call it Foot in Mouth at it's most benign, and terrible bitch at it's worst. Adderall works perfectly for this symptom for me. Nothing else does, and I've tried them all, trust me. Without it I have no spatial awareness and no social perceptions. I truly cannot read a room or the people in it. I fall over things, stumble around like a drunk even when I'm sober, injure myself, choke on food, (Heimlichs are painful, didja know?), and just generally am too loud and act like an ass. Off my medication, I have failed every academic test I've ever taken, and screwed up every job for pay I've ever done.
And jobs I don't get paid for? Like being a Mom? I suck at it....I forget to make meals and get kids to activites and school and lose notes and lose track of papers and just generally feel so angry and frustrated with myself for endlessly failing it all, that frankly, I'm scared of how bad a parent I'll be off the medication. I lose my patience, and yell at my kids like a shrew instead of calmly just making them do what they should do. As a wife, I embarass my husband in public by saying and doing ridiculous things and I become a burden on him, not a partner. When I was pregnant and breastfeeding he kind of blamed it on my hormones, but after a while, that excuse got pretty weak. It's not fair to him or to our lives to suddenly incapacitate me because a doctor doesn't think my disease exists.
And before you say it---I know that there are people with ADHD who function without medication. Well, every illness has degrees and mine is severe. And frankly, I do question how well people function without medication. They make a big public thing about it and in the end just make it harder for people who do need meds because they make it look like we're the weak ones and they just managed find the bootstraps and all of us fuckups could just get it together, we'd be fine too. I sincerely wish I could find someone who would publicly stand up and say that they can't function without medication and how awesome and wonderful it is so the rest of us wouldn't feel so inadequate.
This diagnosis explained my entire life, and since I started medication my life has changed so completely, that as a consequence, no one believes that I could really be that bad off meds, because it's been so long since they saw me such a mess. When I was pregnant and off medication, before Motherisk said it was okay to take it, I just hid in my house and spoke to nobody. (And, yeah, I made some awful comments on blogs by accident then until I stopped because I saw that I was a mess.) I'm worried that I will now screw up even more and make ridiculous comments and hurt the very people I care about the most, all the bloggers I read, who have been so wonderful to me, and who love me. I would die before I would hurt you, but I don't know how I can blog and comment and not hurt you all if I'm off my meds. If this forces me into retirement and then I can't get any support, then what the hell will I do?
I have begged my doctor at two different appointments this past week, and cried and tried to explain what this means, but she really doesn't understand. At this point, without meds, I cannot go back to school and try and do my graduate degree, and I cannot work because I'll just get fired. I can't participate in the Liberal Party because I will inevitably fuck up and wreck everything and I'd rather they think I just disappeared than permanently ruin my public reputation. (Yes, there are dozens and dozens of people in the party with mental issues who may or may not take their meds---and trust me, there is an obvious reason so many of them have political problems. It's all I can do not to urge them to get help...) My husband has enough stress what with his brother's mental illness and his business and he can't take over everything. It's one thing to say that a nanny can do the laundry and make sure the kids get fed, but as wonderful as ours is, she can't be their mother, and frankly, I want to do that. After all this work to get live kids I want to be the one to enjoy them and see them and talk to them and be the one to comfort them. I don't want to be the blob in the corner who lives in her own little world and stares at the wall.
Really that's what this comes down to. I really didn't like the person I used to be before medication. I like the new person I have become a lot more and as I accomplish more and succeed at things I like myself even better. I finally have my family complete and I could have a career and not screw it up, and maybe just maybe actually be a success in life instead of the mess I have always been.
I think that is also why I am most angry and offended at this Doctor. I am grown adult with an ability to understand the medical issues and weight the risk/reward ratio. I know what an SVT is, (a big fat nothing) and I know how to handle it. I also know that I have had these SVTs dozens of times since I was a little kid and I sure as hell wasn't on ADHD meds then. But whose body is it? Don't I deserve to make the final decision? If I, a grown woman, decide to refuse medical treatment for a physical ailment like cancer, it's legal in Canada, and then I'm the one facing the consequences. Same for mental illness. There is a huge amount of literature on a patient's right to refuse medication. Well, why the hell doesn't it work the other way? Can't I make sure I GET treatment for an illness I have been proven to have? If I have a Charter Right to security of person, then doesn't that imply that I have the right to get medication for mental illness and not just to refuse it? And why are mental issues treated so differently from physical issues? Why is mental quality of life not as important as physical? Why is the medical profession so invested in creating physically healthy patients who are forced to endure foggy brains and vegetative-like states? To me, that isn't the quality of life I want for myself. I have a right to live my life the way I want to, as an intelligent calm rational person.
I have a right to sanity.
Two problems:
First: to any of my recently acquired political followers....I am an emotional writer and I know most of you are not, in fact, let's cut the crap, members of political parties are not allowed to simultaneously have both careers and emotions or mental illness or anything but serious debates and personal lives filled with elegance and sunshine and puppies.
So please go away if this makes you uncomfortable. Come back some other day, k?
Second: after my comments on some blogs recently, about the futility of getting help from doctors with infertility or pregnancy loss...I know that it hurt some of my personal friends to read that. Because they really really want to believe that their doctors care if they get pregnant or if their babies live or die, and I was perhaps too blunt. I really do need to stop that, at least on other people's blogs. It kinds sucks all the hope out of the room. They can come to my blog to abandon all hope, right?
So again, if you need to believe that Doctors give a shit if we live or die, and that medicine is about helping people attain a quality of life, you should look away. Because this story really will suck every last ounce of hope out of the room.
The story is that for many years I have had a mild PSVT, which is a spontaneous super fast heartbeat, that comes on and then goes. It can be serious, like with Atrial Fibrillation but over the last 15 years of pregnancies and miscarriages, etc. I have had extensive tests to make sure that mine is the nice mild boring kind. Basically, about three times a year, my heart races anywhere from 120-170ish beats a minute, for about 2 to 3 minutes and that's it. If it lasts longer than that, I just have to do a Valsalva Maneuver which means I push down like I'm pushing out a baby or pushing out a poop, and it ends. (I always call it a vulva maneuver, hehe.) It just ends. And there is no residual heart damage, no funny beats, no nothing.
After a while I almost forgot about it, until someone asked me specifically about heart issues. And then nine years ago I saw the episode of ER where the student Doctor admits to having ADHD and tries to go off her meds and they showed what she was like. And I saw myself on the screen and realized that it was me. I went to a Doctor, had a battery of tests and after a full assessment, started taking ADHD medication.
And the universe shifted on it's axis.
As far as the PSVT I've done holter monitors and BP checks and echocardiograms and stress tests and for the last eight-nine years I've been on my ADD/ADHD meds while those tests were done. And not once did I ever have a high blood pressure or a funny test result. If anything, I was the healthiest person my cardiologist had in his practice. I actually asked him why bother coming back, but he said hey, every couple of years, just visit and we're done. I do have the clotting issues that caused my miscarriages but my cardiologist doesn't think they are linked to heart issues, and I have none of the other risk factors like stiff arteries, etc that might mean I have a potential cardiac issue. So everything was fine.
Until I went to Vancouver and partied for 4 days at the convention. No sleep, bad food, drinking lots, Starbucks by the bucketful, and lots of stress due to events and then trying to get my breastmilk back to Toronto on the plane even though the Canadian government (CATSA) has illogically decided that breastmilk is a dangerous substance and breastpumps are bombs. Regular readers here know that any encounter with government makes me so anxious I want to vomit, so you can just imagine how bad it would be if I was forced to have an argument with a security guard. I mean adrenaline city here people. The Americans let breastfeeding moms bring pumps and frozen breastmilk without babies on their planes, and so does every other country and airline in the world. They know that moms need to keep up milk production and that forcibly dumping milk is ridiculous. Except for Canada....so I had stress.
So much stress that I had an SVT on the way home, and the valsalva thing didn't work, mostly because I wasn't pushing very hard. (Grunting like that in front of others is embarassing, and hard to do quietly on a crowded plane, ok?)
There was big drama blah blah blah and finally some medical personnel got me to push hard enough to stop it, and it was over and I felt fine. Even the doctor who saw me afterwards said it was ok, no issues, no problems.
The big problem happened later when I saw my family doctor, Dr.J., who abruptly decided that this means I can no longer take my ADHD medication. Even though I wasn't on any of the medication on Sunday and in fact, had this SVT happen when I had no medication at all. She will not renew my medication because she is worried about her liability and wants another doctor to spend months rerunning all these stupid cardiac tests and reassess everything, and possibly end my entire prescription forever. (Note: she does not think it's dangerous, it's all about getting sued. Plus she has never liked me being on any medication and this is the perfect excuse for her.) She also thinks it's no big deal to go without psychiatric medication for me or anyone else except the most severe cases and that I should learn some coping strategies.
Coping strategies??
That's right Doc, because a major biochemical imbalance of the brain can be dealt with by coping. In fact, I hear that all the mentally ill are just a bunch of fakers and drug addicts and lazy people, right? I'm such a slacker....if I just pulled myself up by my bootstraps, I'd be fine, right?
Sigh.
I have been in tears ever since, trying to figure out how much medication I have left and being terrified of what will happen when it runs out. I've been trying to find another doctor and possibly a specialist to do battle with them and convince them that ADHD is real. Still freaking wondering if I can I parcel my last meds out carefully, how many social events do I have? How will I appear in public? What will I do when I get lost, get into car accidents, get speeding tickets, lose my purse, lose my phone, lose my way, am late for every single appointment, school pickup, forget to pay bills, and most of all tell people off.
Off my medication, I am the master of the vicious retort, the nasty awful comment that hurts and tears down others. On my medication, I might think it, but I keep my mouth shut. Medical people call it inappropiate verbal impulsivity. I call it Foot in Mouth at it's most benign, and terrible bitch at it's worst. Adderall works perfectly for this symptom for me. Nothing else does, and I've tried them all, trust me. Without it I have no spatial awareness and no social perceptions. I truly cannot read a room or the people in it. I fall over things, stumble around like a drunk even when I'm sober, injure myself, choke on food, (Heimlichs are painful, didja know?), and just generally am too loud and act like an ass. Off my medication, I have failed every academic test I've ever taken, and screwed up every job for pay I've ever done.
And jobs I don't get paid for? Like being a Mom? I suck at it....I forget to make meals and get kids to activites and school and lose notes and lose track of papers and just generally feel so angry and frustrated with myself for endlessly failing it all, that frankly, I'm scared of how bad a parent I'll be off the medication. I lose my patience, and yell at my kids like a shrew instead of calmly just making them do what they should do. As a wife, I embarass my husband in public by saying and doing ridiculous things and I become a burden on him, not a partner. When I was pregnant and breastfeeding he kind of blamed it on my hormones, but after a while, that excuse got pretty weak. It's not fair to him or to our lives to suddenly incapacitate me because a doctor doesn't think my disease exists.
And before you say it---I know that there are people with ADHD who function without medication. Well, every illness has degrees and mine is severe. And frankly, I do question how well people function without medication. They make a big public thing about it and in the end just make it harder for people who do need meds because they make it look like we're the weak ones and they just managed find the bootstraps and all of us fuckups could just get it together, we'd be fine too. I sincerely wish I could find someone who would publicly stand up and say that they can't function without medication and how awesome and wonderful it is so the rest of us wouldn't feel so inadequate.
This diagnosis explained my entire life, and since I started medication my life has changed so completely, that as a consequence, no one believes that I could really be that bad off meds, because it's been so long since they saw me such a mess. When I was pregnant and off medication, before Motherisk said it was okay to take it, I just hid in my house and spoke to nobody. (And, yeah, I made some awful comments on blogs by accident then until I stopped because I saw that I was a mess.) I'm worried that I will now screw up even more and make ridiculous comments and hurt the very people I care about the most, all the bloggers I read, who have been so wonderful to me, and who love me. I would die before I would hurt you, but I don't know how I can blog and comment and not hurt you all if I'm off my meds. If this forces me into retirement and then I can't get any support, then what the hell will I do?
I have begged my doctor at two different appointments this past week, and cried and tried to explain what this means, but she really doesn't understand. At this point, without meds, I cannot go back to school and try and do my graduate degree, and I cannot work because I'll just get fired. I can't participate in the Liberal Party because I will inevitably fuck up and wreck everything and I'd rather they think I just disappeared than permanently ruin my public reputation. (Yes, there are dozens and dozens of people in the party with mental issues who may or may not take their meds---and trust me, there is an obvious reason so many of them have political problems. It's all I can do not to urge them to get help...) My husband has enough stress what with his brother's mental illness and his business and he can't take over everything. It's one thing to say that a nanny can do the laundry and make sure the kids get fed, but as wonderful as ours is, she can't be their mother, and frankly, I want to do that. After all this work to get live kids I want to be the one to enjoy them and see them and talk to them and be the one to comfort them. I don't want to be the blob in the corner who lives in her own little world and stares at the wall.
Really that's what this comes down to. I really didn't like the person I used to be before medication. I like the new person I have become a lot more and as I accomplish more and succeed at things I like myself even better. I finally have my family complete and I could have a career and not screw it up, and maybe just maybe actually be a success in life instead of the mess I have always been.
I think that is also why I am most angry and offended at this Doctor. I am grown adult with an ability to understand the medical issues and weight the risk/reward ratio. I know what an SVT is, (a big fat nothing) and I know how to handle it. I also know that I have had these SVTs dozens of times since I was a little kid and I sure as hell wasn't on ADHD meds then. But whose body is it? Don't I deserve to make the final decision? If I, a grown woman, decide to refuse medical treatment for a physical ailment like cancer, it's legal in Canada, and then I'm the one facing the consequences. Same for mental illness. There is a huge amount of literature on a patient's right to refuse medication. Well, why the hell doesn't it work the other way? Can't I make sure I GET treatment for an illness I have been proven to have? If I have a Charter Right to security of person, then doesn't that imply that I have the right to get medication for mental illness and not just to refuse it? And why are mental issues treated so differently from physical issues? Why is mental quality of life not as important as physical? Why is the medical profession so invested in creating physically healthy patients who are forced to endure foggy brains and vegetative-like states? To me, that isn't the quality of life I want for myself. I have a right to live my life the way I want to, as an intelligent calm rational person.
I have a right to sanity.
Monday, April 27, 2009
For Red Canuck
Red Tory seems to have beaten me to it, but so what, this needs to be repeated many many times, so please link to this, and tweet and retweet it and do whatever needs to be done to spread the word.
Our friend, and member of Liblogs, Red Canuck, is dying of terminal cancer. He had fought it before and beat it, but it has come back and he has posted a farewell. One of the things he asked his readers to do in his goodbye post, is to register as a bone marrow donor with Canadian Blood Services.
You can go here to One Match and register if you are Canadian, or here to register if you are American. This is where you can find some international registries.
Red Canuck, for those of you who didn't read him, is from Vancouver. He's kind and witty and by the way a Doctor as well. He managed to skewer his opponents and make us all laugh along the way, so I this is kind of fitting.
For those of you who medically don't qualify for donations....give money. Did you know that the Canadian Health Care System does not cover all the costs of testing and recruiting donors? Transplants are free and donors and recipients pay nothing, but other costs incurred in maintaining the list and running Canadian Blood Services must be covered by private donations. Something I think should change. A publicly funded cord blood bank with stem cells for use by everyone young and old wouldn't be too shabby either. (Yes, this paragraph is intended to be a big ol' hint to political types reading it, could you guess? Not everyone has a spare $1200 bucks to freeze and store cord blood.)
Canadian Blood Services by the way is the national organization that provided the blood that saved my life after my crash c-section and Julius' birth. I've been waiting until after I finish breastfeeding to repay them a few pints. I figure I owe them, right?
So after I register as a marrow donor, I'm going to start figuring when I can go and split open a vein. In the meantime, if any of you would like to give a pint or two, or register as a bone marrow donor, it would really warm the cockles of my heart, and the heart of a very nice guy and his family.
Thanks! ;)
Our friend, and member of Liblogs, Red Canuck, is dying of terminal cancer. He had fought it before and beat it, but it has come back and he has posted a farewell. One of the things he asked his readers to do in his goodbye post, is to register as a bone marrow donor with Canadian Blood Services.
You can go here to One Match and register if you are Canadian, or here to register if you are American. This is where you can find some international registries.
Red Canuck, for those of you who didn't read him, is from Vancouver. He's kind and witty and by the way a Doctor as well. He managed to skewer his opponents and make us all laugh along the way, so I this is kind of fitting.
For those of you who medically don't qualify for donations....give money. Did you know that the Canadian Health Care System does not cover all the costs of testing and recruiting donors? Transplants are free and donors and recipients pay nothing, but other costs incurred in maintaining the list and running Canadian Blood Services must be covered by private donations. Something I think should change. A publicly funded cord blood bank with stem cells for use by everyone young and old wouldn't be too shabby either. (Yes, this paragraph is intended to be a big ol' hint to political types reading it, could you guess? Not everyone has a spare $1200 bucks to freeze and store cord blood.)
Canadian Blood Services by the way is the national organization that provided the blood that saved my life after my crash c-section and Julius' birth. I've been waiting until after I finish breastfeeding to repay them a few pints. I figure I owe them, right?
So after I register as a marrow donor, I'm going to start figuring when I can go and split open a vein. In the meantime, if any of you would like to give a pint or two, or register as a bone marrow donor, it would really warm the cockles of my heart, and the heart of a very nice guy and his family.
Thanks! ;)
Friday, April 17, 2009
hey here we go again
Family hell is getting better this week. I just have to keep thinking about not doing anything, and how easy it is to just say no when someone proposes to invite people over.
Unless they want to come over for a non-judgey visit with dirt on the floor, pizza and beer. Sigh....
Planning Mac's birthday party, and dealing with various crises, I realized that I have not mentioned my current preoccupation. You know how I have been on domperidone, and how I have been trying to keep up with breastfeeding because I had breastfed the other two for at least fifteen months, and darned if I couldn't try just as hard for Julius?
Well, it's getting harder. I'm not sure what the hell is going on with my crap ass hormones this time, but I can't seem to make as much milk and at night especially, a small child is noticing. And keeps trying to get more milk, and crying. So I have doubled my dose of domperidone and I'm doing what I can.....but if this isn't the most bizarre thing on earth because I have never had this problem before!
I've always had loads of milk. Bad latches, thrush, mastitis, pumping problems, blisters, nursing strikes, lumps, you name it, I've battled through it. But supply never was a problem. I never had to even take domperidone, not when I was on the pill after Kaz was born, not when I went away for five days without Mac, nothing.
I know he's 10 and half months and really, we could do a little formula and it wouldn't be a big whoop, but that assumes it would be my decision to use it. This would NOT be my choice, this is because of my body failing me once again. And I can't figure out why?
I just don't get it, it's like this insane thing where just when I think that infertility is behind me and my problems are over, they come back to bite me on the ass again. Osteoporosis, POF, thyroid, and now breastfeeding issues, possibly caused by Sheehan's and placental abruption and holy shit won't that be a lovely lifelong issue to have? Fuck, fuck fuck....If one more person suggests to me that infertility is all about having babies and that it's no big deal and we can just move on after we finish having our kids or decide not to keep trying....I will scream. This, btw, is just one of the many reasons I always say that adoption is not a cure for infertility. They are completely and utterly separate issues. Something too many Doctors forget.
None of us ever stops being an infertile, do we? It's a disease I will always have whether I have zero living children or one or three or twelve.
Fuck.
Unless they want to come over for a non-judgey visit with dirt on the floor, pizza and beer. Sigh....
Planning Mac's birthday party, and dealing with various crises, I realized that I have not mentioned my current preoccupation. You know how I have been on domperidone, and how I have been trying to keep up with breastfeeding because I had breastfed the other two for at least fifteen months, and darned if I couldn't try just as hard for Julius?
Well, it's getting harder. I'm not sure what the hell is going on with my crap ass hormones this time, but I can't seem to make as much milk and at night especially, a small child is noticing. And keeps trying to get more milk, and crying. So I have doubled my dose of domperidone and I'm doing what I can.....but if this isn't the most bizarre thing on earth because I have never had this problem before!
I've always had loads of milk. Bad latches, thrush, mastitis, pumping problems, blisters, nursing strikes, lumps, you name it, I've battled through it. But supply never was a problem. I never had to even take domperidone, not when I was on the pill after Kaz was born, not when I went away for five days without Mac, nothing.
I know he's 10 and half months and really, we could do a little formula and it wouldn't be a big whoop, but that assumes it would be my decision to use it. This would NOT be my choice, this is because of my body failing me once again. And I can't figure out why?
I just don't get it, it's like this insane thing where just when I think that infertility is behind me and my problems are over, they come back to bite me on the ass again. Osteoporosis, POF, thyroid, and now breastfeeding issues, possibly caused by Sheehan's and placental abruption and holy shit won't that be a lovely lifelong issue to have? Fuck, fuck fuck....If one more person suggests to me that infertility is all about having babies and that it's no big deal and we can just move on after we finish having our kids or decide not to keep trying....I will scream. This, btw, is just one of the many reasons I always say that adoption is not a cure for infertility. They are completely and utterly separate issues. Something too many Doctors forget.
None of us ever stops being an infertile, do we? It's a disease I will always have whether I have zero living children or one or three or twelve.
Fuck.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
A-S-S-U-M-E
Did you ever hear the old saying, when you A-S-S-U-M-E you make an 'ASS' out of 'U' and 'ME'? Yeah, I'm sure you have. Trouble is, lots of people still do it.
Like a now deleted commenter on my previous post, who is not a regular reader, but came here, because of a tweet I did. He thinks that I, and I guess--anyone who disagrees with Mayor David Miller of Toronto is arrogant, asinine, illogical, and what was the other one? Oh yeah, negative.
He assumed that because my current form of birth control is not working and making me feel shitty and depressed that therefore, I am not allowed to comment on politics. That somehow, my brain no longer works. You know, the been-there-done-that hysterical hormonal women theme? Just because I hated David Miller.
Well, to clear up a few things---I feel much better now. A different pill and a nice estrogen boost and I'm much happier.
I still hate David Miller though. Always have, always will. Our current high pretentious dipshit Mayor frankly does a terrible job. I can proudly say that I have never ever voted for him. Not when he was a councillor, and not either time he ran for mayor. I know a lot of people who voted for him and are deeply ashamed of that fact and would give anything to take it back. I don't feel bad for them though.
You see, my brain, and my ability to assess someone's character still work just friggin fine even though I have some hormonal swings. They work fine even when I am depressed and they work just friggin fine when I am filled with joy. And even if they didn't work fine---guess what?
In Canada, there is no test for mental fitness to be a citizen or a voter or a commentator on political life. And politicians have an obligation to listen to me and to represent the mentally unwell's INTERESTS just as much as they have to represent the perfect white upstanding mentally balanced Bay Street lawyer in a suit.
I am equal to everyone else anywhere in this country. When I am medicated, when I am unmedicated, when I dress nice, when I don't, when my IQ is 60 or when it is 160, when I am male or when I am female, when I am in a wheelchair or striding down a street, when I am angry or happy or sad or suicidal or jumping for joy. No matter what is happening in my life, we never lose our right to free speech, or our right to tell a politician to FUCK RIGHT OFF BECAUSE HE SUCKS AT HIS JOB.
You see, this weekend, there is some sort of celebration going on about Toronto's 175th Birthday. No one really knows, because there has been almost no publicity about it, and really, no news coverage. It's that boring. Plus, in this economy, c'mon, if you are going to do something to draw in tourists, make it more fun than root canal. So, in light of the fact that his endless tweets about this boring drivel thing were making me want to stick a fork in my eye---I said so.
I could put up with it if we weren't facing total economic collapse in this city as a direct result of his incompetent leadership, but this guy really has no right to ever leave his desk at this point, much less tweet about it. Toronto has been teetering on the brink of budget collapse for years now all through the boom and he has done nothing. He was going to cut the out of control police budget and spend some money on crime prevention. Instead---he has spent over $400 million hiring new cops and every time the police ask for money, he's their go to guy. Cops now represent over 50% of the city budget when we are in a nationwide crime decline, but he says yes whenever they start some big freak out about gangs and guns. Considering today's headlines, you'd think he'd reconsider, but I'm not holding my breath.
Our streets are a disaster because he refuses to coordinate the private contractors and public road repair crews so that all of them work together at once. Instead they just randomly wander all over town ripping up streets and digging, one year for gas pipes, next year for water, six months later for hydro, a year later for high speed DSL repair. Nevermind that they could just plan it out and do it right all at once in such a way that people could walk, bike and drive around this city without losing their minds from potholes and construction debris. Then again, the city unions we have might object to actually working!
(And before anyone says it--I'm a union woman. I've been a member and I've organized and guess what? I want a good wage and benefits, but I also expect to work productively....I have zero respect for people who think union means they get to sit on their ass and only do their minimum quota, so don't even bother.)
But the thing I really hate about him the most is a problem that relates to my favourite subject. Health, specifically children's health. There are thousands of homes in Toronto that are contaminated with lead intake pipes, and now have lead in the water. Both from city pipes running down streets and pipes leading into houses. (The report has the nerve to use the term "acceptable levels of lead"; umm, no, there is no acceptable level of lead. None.) I already knew about this because before we bought this house I checked to make sure that the street pipe had been replaced, and when I discovered our intake pipe had lead, I paid to have it replaced. It cost a mint, but having struggled with learning problems, no way was I ever going to risk my babies having more problems because of some easy to fix water problem!
Years ago when we did it, during Miller's first term, the guy at the city had actually tried to convince me not to have it done, because "the crud on the inside of the pipe will protect you from the lead." Ummmmm, yah.
And who will protect me from the crud?
Not to mention the bacteria hidden IN the crud?
Anyway, you'd think that knowing that water is a basic human right, and that lead destroys children's brains and adult's body parts like kidneys and livers, that replacing these pipes would be his number one priority, his sine qua none, his reason for working round the clock, his budget centerpiece.
Not so much.
In fact, on his watch, the money that was supposed to be spent fixing the lead pipes was spent on a deep water cooling system for the downtown office buildings instead. Privately owned downtown office buildings, which get their air conditioning from Toronto Hydro, a separately financed entity, which could easily afford to finance the cooling operation without a dime of city water money.
David Miller and his cronies took the money that the taxpayers gave them to save us from lead poisoning, and they used it to install discount air conditioning for rich white dudes on Bay Street.
So was I hormonal when I tweeted? Sure...but I was still right, dead on.
Like a now deleted commenter on my previous post, who is not a regular reader, but came here, because of a tweet I did. He thinks that I, and I guess--anyone who disagrees with Mayor David Miller of Toronto is arrogant, asinine, illogical, and what was the other one? Oh yeah, negative.
He assumed that because my current form of birth control is not working and making me feel shitty and depressed that therefore, I am not allowed to comment on politics. That somehow, my brain no longer works. You know, the been-there-done-that hysterical hormonal women theme? Just because I hated David Miller.
Well, to clear up a few things---I feel much better now. A different pill and a nice estrogen boost and I'm much happier.
I still hate David Miller though. Always have, always will. Our current high pretentious dipshit Mayor frankly does a terrible job. I can proudly say that I have never ever voted for him. Not when he was a councillor, and not either time he ran for mayor. I know a lot of people who voted for him and are deeply ashamed of that fact and would give anything to take it back. I don't feel bad for them though.
You see, my brain, and my ability to assess someone's character still work just friggin fine even though I have some hormonal swings. They work fine even when I am depressed and they work just friggin fine when I am filled with joy. And even if they didn't work fine---guess what?
In Canada, there is no test for mental fitness to be a citizen or a voter or a commentator on political life. And politicians have an obligation to listen to me and to represent the mentally unwell's INTERESTS just as much as they have to represent the perfect white upstanding mentally balanced Bay Street lawyer in a suit.
I am equal to everyone else anywhere in this country. When I am medicated, when I am unmedicated, when I dress nice, when I don't, when my IQ is 60 or when it is 160, when I am male or when I am female, when I am in a wheelchair or striding down a street, when I am angry or happy or sad or suicidal or jumping for joy. No matter what is happening in my life, we never lose our right to free speech, or our right to tell a politician to FUCK RIGHT OFF BECAUSE HE SUCKS AT HIS JOB.
You see, this weekend, there is some sort of celebration going on about Toronto's 175th Birthday. No one really knows, because there has been almost no publicity about it, and really, no news coverage. It's that boring. Plus, in this economy, c'mon, if you are going to do something to draw in tourists, make it more fun than root canal. So, in light of the fact that his endless tweets about this boring drivel thing were making me want to stick a fork in my eye---I said so.
I could put up with it if we weren't facing total economic collapse in this city as a direct result of his incompetent leadership, but this guy really has no right to ever leave his desk at this point, much less tweet about it. Toronto has been teetering on the brink of budget collapse for years now all through the boom and he has done nothing. He was going to cut the out of control police budget and spend some money on crime prevention. Instead---he has spent over $400 million hiring new cops and every time the police ask for money, he's their go to guy. Cops now represent over 50% of the city budget when we are in a nationwide crime decline, but he says yes whenever they start some big freak out about gangs and guns. Considering today's headlines, you'd think he'd reconsider, but I'm not holding my breath.
Our streets are a disaster because he refuses to coordinate the private contractors and public road repair crews so that all of them work together at once. Instead they just randomly wander all over town ripping up streets and digging, one year for gas pipes, next year for water, six months later for hydro, a year later for high speed DSL repair. Nevermind that they could just plan it out and do it right all at once in such a way that people could walk, bike and drive around this city without losing their minds from potholes and construction debris. Then again, the city unions we have might object to actually working!
(And before anyone says it--I'm a union woman. I've been a member and I've organized and guess what? I want a good wage and benefits, but I also expect to work productively....I have zero respect for people who think union means they get to sit on their ass and only do their minimum quota, so don't even bother.)
But the thing I really hate about him the most is a problem that relates to my favourite subject. Health, specifically children's health. There are thousands of homes in Toronto that are contaminated with lead intake pipes, and now have lead in the water. Both from city pipes running down streets and pipes leading into houses. (The report has the nerve to use the term "acceptable levels of lead"; umm, no, there is no acceptable level of lead. None.) I already knew about this because before we bought this house I checked to make sure that the street pipe had been replaced, and when I discovered our intake pipe had lead, I paid to have it replaced. It cost a mint, but having struggled with learning problems, no way was I ever going to risk my babies having more problems because of some easy to fix water problem!
Years ago when we did it, during Miller's first term, the guy at the city had actually tried to convince me not to have it done, because "the crud on the inside of the pipe will protect you from the lead." Ummmmm, yah.
And who will protect me from the crud?
Not to mention the bacteria hidden IN the crud?
Anyway, you'd think that knowing that water is a basic human right, and that lead destroys children's brains and adult's body parts like kidneys and livers, that replacing these pipes would be his number one priority, his sine qua none, his reason for working round the clock, his budget centerpiece.
Not so much.
In fact, on his watch, the money that was supposed to be spent fixing the lead pipes was spent on a deep water cooling system for the downtown office buildings instead. Privately owned downtown office buildings, which get their air conditioning from Toronto Hydro, a separately financed entity, which could easily afford to finance the cooling operation without a dime of city water money.
David Miller and his cronies took the money that the taxpayers gave them to save us from lead poisoning, and they used it to install discount air conditioning for rich white dudes on Bay Street.
So was I hormonal when I tweeted? Sure...but I was still right, dead on.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Booo-yah!!
An actual email exchange back and forth. What you don't see on the post is a picture of my crapped out pale disastrous weak face that I attached, along with a close up of my infected throat. Pus and all.
From: Aurelia's real email address
Date: Sat, 14 Feb 2009 19:02:31 -0500
To: Lovely Doctor J.'s email
Subject: Need some help
"Julius" is home now, but we just came back after a day and half at Kids Hospital. He got some sort of secondary infection after his recent cold, the same one I had when I saw you. Based on his soaring temp and his lethargy and pain, they thought it might be meningitis, so he had to get a lumbar puncture and a whole gamut of tests. Turned out he has only has pneumonia and an ear infection, thank God, but we are still waiting to find out the culture results for sure. So he is on antibiotics, ceflex I think..
Trouble is, now I have the exact same thing he had. My ears are on fire, my chest hurts, my neck is stiff, my throat is awful, my nose and sinuses are stuffed and every part of my body hurts and I have chills. I am double dosing tylenol and advil. I am afraid to go to a walk in clinic or ER because I’ll be there forever cause they are all packed and likely give this to someone else. Plus I have to be here to take care of Julius. Nannies and husbands can’t breastfeed!
Can you call in something for me? I wouldn’t ask but this stupid family day holiday means no one is around until Tuesday. My pharmacy is 416-123-4567. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate, but I’ll understand if you say no. I just don’t know what else to do.
"Aurelia"
From: Lovely Doctor J.'s email
Date: Sun, 15 Feb 2009 01:52:36 +0000
To: Aurelia's real email address
Subject: Re: Need some help
You make a good case, no problem. No allergies?
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network
From: Aurelia's real email address
Date: Sun, 15 Feb 2009 02:11:43 +0000
To: Lovely Doctor J.'s email
Subject: Re: Need some help
None, thanks!I really appreciate this.
From: Lovely Doctor J.'s email
Date: Sun, 15 Feb 2009 02:19:41 +0000
To: Aurelia's real email address
Subject: Re: Need some help
Done. Hope it helps.
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network
ZOMG, This woman is such a good doctor and knows me so well and understands her patients and saved my butt and really honest to God gets it, that I just love her.
Even though I'm not one, if she wanted to be a lesbian for one day, I would make her so happy. Like, out of gratitude.
From: Aurelia's real email address
Date: Sat, 14 Feb 2009 19:02:31 -0500
To: Lovely Doctor J.'s email
Subject: Need some help
"Julius" is home now, but we just came back after a day and half at Kids Hospital. He got some sort of secondary infection after his recent cold, the same one I had when I saw you. Based on his soaring temp and his lethargy and pain, they thought it might be meningitis, so he had to get a lumbar puncture and a whole gamut of tests. Turned out he has only has pneumonia and an ear infection, thank God, but we are still waiting to find out the culture results for sure. So he is on antibiotics, ceflex I think..
Trouble is, now I have the exact same thing he had. My ears are on fire, my chest hurts, my neck is stiff, my throat is awful, my nose and sinuses are stuffed and every part of my body hurts and I have chills. I am double dosing tylenol and advil. I am afraid to go to a walk in clinic or ER because I’ll be there forever cause they are all packed and likely give this to someone else. Plus I have to be here to take care of Julius. Nannies and husbands can’t breastfeed!
Can you call in something for me? I wouldn’t ask but this stupid family day holiday means no one is around until Tuesday. My pharmacy is 416-123-4567. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate, but I’ll understand if you say no. I just don’t know what else to do.
"Aurelia"
From: Lovely Doctor J.'s email
Date: Sun, 15 Feb 2009 01:52:36 +0000
To: Aurelia's real email address
Subject: Re: Need some help
You make a good case, no problem. No allergies?
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network
From: Aurelia's real email address
Date: Sun, 15 Feb 2009 02:11:43 +0000
To: Lovely Doctor J.'s email
Subject: Re: Need some help
None, thanks!I really appreciate this.
From: Lovely Doctor J.'s email
Date: Sun, 15 Feb 2009 02:19:41 +0000
To: Aurelia's real email address
Subject: Re: Need some help
Done. Hope it helps.
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network
ZOMG, This woman is such a good doctor and knows me so well and understands her patients and saved my butt and really honest to God gets it, that I just love her.
Even though I'm not one, if she wanted to be a lesbian for one day, I would make her so happy. Like, out of gratitude.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
one more thing
sick baby now has bronchitis
annual fundraiser a big 'ol mess
friends not available right when I need them
birth relatives violating emotional boundaries
in-laws turning into unrecognizable schadenfreude experts
husband and I having huge fight about unattractive schadenfreuders
roof has an ugly tarp and ceiling still falling in
architect unable to remember previous instructions, keeps sending weird drawings
hormones now undetectable (LH & FSH) so I may have another disease to battle
unable to schedule diagnostic sonohysterogram due to 12 weeks worth of unrelenting bloodloss
kaz's school made several commitments to us on friday after I raised hell - and still nothing
behind on billpaying, even though I have the money, because the paperwork is so screwed up
no groceries in house, no supplies cause I barely have time to move, never mind shop
skin cancer spot on nose, or else I am growing an ugly spot
new car is still not working right
bloglines messed up, can't pick up feeds
feedburner messed up, can't figure out feeds
blogger messed up, keeps barring comments
ISP messed up, unable to get me on the net
gmail/blackberry both messed up, unable to send/receive messages
and last but not least
husband's long-standing, inactive auto-immune disease is active again - the one I can't discuss here, that scares the fuck outa me
enough people just enough
annual fundraiser a big 'ol mess
friends not available right when I need them
birth relatives violating emotional boundaries
in-laws turning into unrecognizable schadenfreude experts
husband and I having huge fight about unattractive schadenfreuders
roof has an ugly tarp and ceiling still falling in
architect unable to remember previous instructions, keeps sending weird drawings
hormones now undetectable (LH & FSH) so I may have another disease to battle
unable to schedule diagnostic sonohysterogram due to 12 weeks worth of unrelenting bloodloss
kaz's school made several commitments to us on friday after I raised hell - and still nothing
behind on billpaying, even though I have the money, because the paperwork is so screwed up
no groceries in house, no supplies cause I barely have time to move, never mind shop
skin cancer spot on nose, or else I am growing an ugly spot
new car is still not working right
bloglines messed up, can't pick up feeds
feedburner messed up, can't figure out feeds
blogger messed up, keeps barring comments
ISP messed up, unable to get me on the net
gmail/blackberry both messed up, unable to send/receive messages
and last but not least
husband's long-standing, inactive auto-immune disease is active again - the one I can't discuss here, that scares the fuck outa me
enough people just enough
Sunday, February 08, 2009
sleep eludes
Baby Julius now has our collective cold...he can barely breathe what with all the snot. Thank God he is 24 pounds and allowed to take Advil cold and Tylenol Cold. (You know, the stuff they said didn't work? hahahahahahhaha, maybe they should speak to the entire pediatric ENT team at Sick Kids, all of whom heartily endorse it.)
Seriously, I love how the keep banning drugs off the market these days with little or no evidence of harm. It's like the new favourite thing to do is ban everything. In reality, they should just make sure it works for certain things and stick to them and study the drug properly if they have no studies.
Like pediatric decongestant? It works just fine, thanks. There are no studies on it in children. Only adults. But the FDA and Health Canada decided to go thermonuclear and BAN it. Funny thing is, that it likely does work well in children. They just haven't studied it yet. The companies are going to study it now because they are getting a lot of pissed of parents and a lot of high level guys like the ones at Sick Kids who are angry that children are being put in danger of chronic ear infections, ear drum damage, ear tube insertion surgery and possible deafness as a result of dipshit bureaucrats trying to cover their ass.
Oh and did I mention the monetary incentives? You see the ENTs at Sick Kids are paid flat rate salaries they negotiate and they only see the most serious cases, and are incredibly busy, so they don't want to see any unnecessary surgeries. They have enough to do. But the ear tube surgeries are still done regularly for any child who has had more than three ear infections. By local ENT surgeons. Who get paid per procedure, and depend on them to cover the bills. (ENTs also got screwed when it was discovered that tonsillectomies are rarely medically necessary. Business dropped and so did office profits.)
You see, about 7-8 years ago, a Cochrane study came out about the effectiveness of ear tubes for children with chronic ear infections. It turns out that ear tubes do absolutely no good at all for any normal children. They are effective for children with cranio-facial deformities, (like Downs, or flat heads from lying on their backs) but pretty much no other children. In the case of normal children with constant ear infections, they should get the pneumovax vaccine, and stay on children's decongestant to dry up the fluid in their ears. They should also be fed sitting bolt upright at all times, and never ever go to bed with a bottle of anything, water, milk, or juice. Breastfeeding is different because you can't culture germs in it and it can't come out of a breast unless the baby is actively sucking and swallowing, so therefore it can't pool in the ear tube and drum and brew up an infection.
The Ontario Ministry of Health could do something about this, and stop paying for a multitude of medically unnecessary procedures, (arthroscopic knee surgery, ear tubes, frozen shoulder rotations, preventative appendectomies, cystoscopies with irrigation, etc, etc...) and someday pay for medically necessary ones, like IVF with SET and PGD or miscarriage treatment, or helmets for plagiocephaly.
Health Canada could operate on the basis of medical evidence for drug safety and say---do things to prevent the death of babies and improve maternal infant fetal health.
But if that were to happen, all hell would break loose, the universe would end, and sunshine and rainbows would come bursting out of my ass.
You know, because it would mean the Doctors actually give a flying fuck about saving lives instead of cold hard cash.
Seriously, I love how the keep banning drugs off the market these days with little or no evidence of harm. It's like the new favourite thing to do is ban everything. In reality, they should just make sure it works for certain things and stick to them and study the drug properly if they have no studies.
Like pediatric decongestant? It works just fine, thanks. There are no studies on it in children. Only adults. But the FDA and Health Canada decided to go thermonuclear and BAN it. Funny thing is, that it likely does work well in children. They just haven't studied it yet. The companies are going to study it now because they are getting a lot of pissed of parents and a lot of high level guys like the ones at Sick Kids who are angry that children are being put in danger of chronic ear infections, ear drum damage, ear tube insertion surgery and possible deafness as a result of dipshit bureaucrats trying to cover their ass.
Oh and did I mention the monetary incentives? You see the ENTs at Sick Kids are paid flat rate salaries they negotiate and they only see the most serious cases, and are incredibly busy, so they don't want to see any unnecessary surgeries. They have enough to do. But the ear tube surgeries are still done regularly for any child who has had more than three ear infections. By local ENT surgeons. Who get paid per procedure, and depend on them to cover the bills. (ENTs also got screwed when it was discovered that tonsillectomies are rarely medically necessary. Business dropped and so did office profits.)
You see, about 7-8 years ago, a Cochrane study came out about the effectiveness of ear tubes for children with chronic ear infections. It turns out that ear tubes do absolutely no good at all for any normal children. They are effective for children with cranio-facial deformities, (like Downs, or flat heads from lying on their backs) but pretty much no other children. In the case of normal children with constant ear infections, they should get the pneumovax vaccine, and stay on children's decongestant to dry up the fluid in their ears. They should also be fed sitting bolt upright at all times, and never ever go to bed with a bottle of anything, water, milk, or juice. Breastfeeding is different because you can't culture germs in it and it can't come out of a breast unless the baby is actively sucking and swallowing, so therefore it can't pool in the ear tube and drum and brew up an infection.
The Ontario Ministry of Health could do something about this, and stop paying for a multitude of medically unnecessary procedures, (arthroscopic knee surgery, ear tubes, frozen shoulder rotations, preventative appendectomies, cystoscopies with irrigation, etc, etc...) and someday pay for medically necessary ones, like IVF with SET and PGD or miscarriage treatment, or helmets for plagiocephaly.
Health Canada could operate on the basis of medical evidence for drug safety and say---do things to prevent the death of babies and improve maternal infant fetal health.
But if that were to happen, all hell would break loose, the universe would end, and sunshine and rainbows would come bursting out of my ass.
You know, because it would mean the Doctors actually give a flying fuck about saving lives instead of cold hard cash.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Bloody hell
I am exasperated to the nth degree right now.
My husband has been away and things have conveniently gone nuts in the meantime. The kids have all been sick with stomach ailments and colds and coughs.
----------------------------------------
The very expensive crib broke in the middle of the night and thank goodness Julius woke up and cried. Something bad might have happened....I don't even want to think about it. I just never ever want to hear another asshole asserting that cribs are always safer than the family bed. We had it professionally put together, and it didn't matter. Reality is that cribs break all the time and babies get caught between mattresses and the side and BAD things happen. I don't know what we're going to do now. He won't fit back in my uterus, not that it was a safe place....
-----------------------------------------
We've had more snow than anyone can believe and the city has decided to barely clear any away. I think it's because the private contractor who clears snow for the City of Toronto was made responsible for any snow related road damage this year, and as a result is not letting the plow blades get too near the roads and curbs. Except then the roads still have snow on them. Ooops.
-----------------------------------------
My Doctor has still not called back, which is bizarre. Dr.J. always returns my calls because she knows me and knows I'm not just calling to chat. I've called her office again for the eighth time and they have the report but she hasn't called. Meanwhile I am still having fibroid related symptoms and am getting increasingly freaked out.
-----------------------------------------
My brother in law P has finally agreed to come back to Canada, since he has no money, no friends and no family in Belgium. (Ok, technically he has a wife but God forbid she pay for some food or get him a Doctor. Did I ever mention that they are still legally married? Yah, class act there...) We have sent him a plane ticket. He won't be in my city, but instead is going to stay with another set of relatives and hopefully in a place of his own eventually. But since his mental state is a disaster and he is drinking again, he will likely not even get on the right plane, or he will have a breakdown in the air and get tasered by the RCMP. (The Mounties ain't what they used to be.)
Meanwhile he has become a weak sick old man who could hardly hurt a fly. A year of starvation, semi-homelessness and barely treated mental illness will do that to a guy. The Doctors were shocked he was alive a year ago considering the condition of his heart and liver. I can't imagine the state he is in now.
And yeah, we'll have to pay out of pocket for medical treatment for him. He paid taxes in Canada as a citizen and resident for 30 years and later as a non-resident but since he lived abroad, that's all erased. He won't qualify for welfare or disability or anything. Remember, here in Canada we abandon our citizens as soon as they cross the border, so don't let anything bad happen while you are gone!
-----------------------------------------
Next problem: I am trying to deal with the house reno design all by myself, but that isn't really working. I am pretty practical. I don't want to do a design that will result in a huge legal fight and on our narrow city lot we can't do everything on earth, but we can do a nice average house. But without my husband's input it's useless to go much further.
And he refuses to look at it. And the roof is falling in. Kind of a problem when it is snowing inside the bedrooms....denial will not work forever me thinks.
----------------------------------------
My final thought for the day? I'm really hoping hard that Obama fires his new Head Chef for the White House, Sam Kass. Can't link to it right now, (updated: links done )but if you go to the New York Times Well Blog, you will see a quote from him where he asserts "the abundance of high fructose corn syrup in lunches and snacks has been shown to have a direct link to the attention deficit disorder epidemic." Except for that whole pesky issue of SCIENCE. You know the thing that Obama promised to follow? In the Inauguration speech?
Look, HFCS sucks, and it isn't healthy for anyone, but I am really fucking sick and tired of idiots saying that mental illness and poverty is caused by moral failings and if we all just hitched up our britches and ate right we'd all be able to ditch our meds.
So here's hoping Obama decides to google the International Consensus Statement on ADHD and believe what over 100 Doctors and Scientists signed in a scientifically credible peer-reviewed publication.
Cause I don't need this. Just don't.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Nightmare on Elm Street
Can you guess what this unidentified object is?
It makes you bleed like a mofo.
It is the size of a grapefruit.
It is unsightly and will disfigure various parts of your body.
It is painful. (back, pelvis, intestines, bladder, etc....)
It is almost impossible to get rid of.
Anyone?
Anyone?
-
-
-
-
-
-
IT'S FREDDIE!!!!!
He's baaaacckkkkkkk.
Fred the Fibroid, doncha know? And his bromance Voldemort!
Both subserosal, one possibly intramural/subserosal, both painful as hell when poked with a transvaginal ultrasound.
Especially when the ultrasound tech is so obsessed with seeing Obama's inauguration live that she keeps leaving the room go to the "other room", (really, the staff lounge) to "check something". Meanwhile, I am on the exam table, half naked, with a probe up my cooter wondering where the feck she has gone?!?
She was much more attentive after his speech was finished. I know you were all entranced by it, but long speeches are difficult to tolerate when you are on a cold table with your feet in the stirrups and your ladyparts are swinging in the wind.
I felt every moment of those 18 minutes. Truly.
Anyway, Dr.J. will hopefully have some solutions. But I am kind of scared of those solutions, because really, surgery just never turns out well for me. It's that whole death thing....I'm just not sure how many more lives I have to risk.
It's kind of, well, a nightmare.
It makes you bleed like a mofo.
It is the size of a grapefruit.
It is unsightly and will disfigure various parts of your body.
It is painful. (back, pelvis, intestines, bladder, etc....)
It is almost impossible to get rid of.
Anyone?
Anyone?
-
-
-
-
-
-
IT'S FREDDIE!!!!!
He's baaaacckkkkkkk.
Fred the Fibroid, doncha know? And his bromance Voldemort!
Both subserosal, one possibly intramural/subserosal, both painful as hell when poked with a transvaginal ultrasound.
Especially when the ultrasound tech is so obsessed with seeing Obama's inauguration live that she keeps leaving the room go to the "other room", (really, the staff lounge) to "check something". Meanwhile, I am on the exam table, half naked, with a probe up my cooter wondering where the feck she has gone?!?
She was much more attentive after his speech was finished. I know you were all entranced by it, but long speeches are difficult to tolerate when you are on a cold table with your feet in the stirrups and your ladyparts are swinging in the wind.
I felt every moment of those 18 minutes. Truly.
Anyway, Dr.J. will hopefully have some solutions. But I am kind of scared of those solutions, because really, surgery just never turns out well for me. It's that whole death thing....I'm just not sure how many more lives I have to risk.
It's kind of, well, a nightmare.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Resolution update
So my diet/not really diet/healthful eating thing is going well. I've lost a few pounds, and my fancy new scale says that my bodyfat is going down and my water percentage is the same, so it isn't water I'm losing.
I was 138ish. That by the way means that with clothes and glasses on, I was 138.9 or 139, and with clothes off and contacts in like in the morning before I get dressed, I was 138. I'm trying to weigh myself in the morning, same time of day, and not dressed, because I have discovered that clothes, and watches and glasses and belts and shoes can really change your weight! So you know---you think, hey I lost weight, and then you weigh yourself at night with a bunch of clothes and bam, you think you gained....yeah, I know, you all knew this, but on behalf of the ignorant here, be generous.
I am 135 right now, a week later. I was 134, but I go up and down here and there, so it's not bad. My bodyfat is 32%, which is a hell of a lot lower than it was before. (I told you I had no muscles...if you check the web, that is baaad baby.)
So I've stuck with the no alcohol regime, (12,000 extra calories per month if you have a couple glasses a night, eeek!!) and I am eating smaller amounts of normal meals, but all the same things. I am not buying smarties and Reese's peanut butter cups which are my major weaknesses, and I am trying to eat some more veggies, but I already have enough diet restrictions as it is, since I am severely lactose intolerant, and have other health issues, so I can't do any of the fad diets out there, or detoxing, or protein diets.
I am stuck with moderation. Nuthin' fancy. I already eat pretty low fat as it is, since everything I touch is dairy free, but I have to make the kids meals with some dairy and higher levels of fat or they will not have the normal weight gain they need. We try to keep the transfats to a minimum cause they aren't good for anyone.
But in the end, I just eat a smaller portion of whatever I was eating before. Like, instead of 8 chocolate cookies, I only eat two. If I eat none, I just feel bitter and deprived, so I decided not to ban chocolate treats completely.
Okay, as for renovations, we have discovered more leaks in the roof above Kaz's bedroom. And a major crack in the bathtub/shower handle, and I think we have mold in the house again because I am continuously stuffy and it isn't possible to have allergies like this in winter, unless I have mold somewhere again. So my poor darling husband is slowly starting to accept that he has to renovate sooner as opposed to later. The only question is how much to spend and how far to go. Personally, I want to do it right, not luxuriously, but nicely, and live here until the kids grow up and then we can move into a condo. He wants to spend as little as possible (Cheep, cheep cheep says the birdie!) and live here until we can't stand it any longer and then beg on bended knee for someone to buy it off of us. And I'm like, umm, why would we beg? Why would we put in cheap, crappy materials and just have to redo it in a few years when everything breaks? And then he hyperventilates and starts muttering about the market and apocalypse and armageddon and the end of the world as we know it. And I laugh. Cause if he was really worried, he'd stop spending so much money. And honey, can he spend....
But at least he's talking about it, so I have to give him some credit. Now I just have to call our poor architect and have the embarassing conversation about starting up again and by the way he can't show the husband his face because every single time husband gets an email, the hyperventilating starts again.
I looked at the BlogHer registration page and I'm trying to figure out how to sign up, and then realized, holy shit, I'll have to use my real name. I can't just show up with a bag over my face, a wallet full of unmarked bills and a business card with Aurelia on it, can I? I know lots of people use pseudonyms and for them, it's no big deal, but for me---it's personal safety. This is going to take some figuring out. I mean, I'll need the damn passport, and credit cards. And what do they put on your conference badge? Your fake name? Your blog address? Whatever you want?
I'm already planning my wardrobe here...hoodies, a wig, colored contacts, and a set of fake buck teeth.
This is going to be worse than that crime victims conference I went to a few years back, where the person running it decided to have the entire thing filmed and didn't tell anyone before. Then she announced that 80% of the non-police attendees were crime victims. Every single cop, judge, and lawyer in the place was walking up to the civilians on the coffee breaks and asking, "So, what kind of crime happened to you?", cause they had no idea what the hell else to ask. They were horribly uncomfortable and we were all ducking and hiding everytime a camera swung our way. (I mean, duh, we were all the victims of personal crimes, not corporate fraud. Sensitivity--not so much.) It was total utter hell. Most of us didn't want to walk up to the microphones to talk, so there was almost no participation.
But last years BlogHer seemed by all accounts to be very well-attended and lots of participation, so they must be better at it, yet there were pictures everywhere?
Okey-dokey people, I know some of you attended last year and didn't come out completely, soooo, how did you do it? Real Name? Blog Name? Did you tell some people some things, and say nothing to others? Did you have two cards with different stuff on them? Or is everyone magically completely cool?
As for the lasers and health stuff? I am going to call my GP and ask her for some referrals this week. I've been researching and the price and quality varies pretty dramatically. And who knows if they correspond? It's my eyesight at minimum, so I don't want to go cheap, but I don't want to spend stupidly.
Meanwhile, my period will not end, and my hormones are not acting pleasantly. So I'm going to have to get that under control. It's still not good, months later. I'm getting an ultrasound next week to check if the damn Fibroid ever shrank and left.
I have to know. Am I the only person in the blogosphere who still has IF-related health problems after finishing having kids? Cause none of you ever seem to talk about it, unless you are trying for another baby. And I have no intention of spending the rest of my natural life having my period 2 weeks out of 4. It sucks people. Really.
So help? Anyone? BlogHer questions and cooter questions?
I was 138ish. That by the way means that with clothes and glasses on, I was 138.9 or 139, and with clothes off and contacts in like in the morning before I get dressed, I was 138. I'm trying to weigh myself in the morning, same time of day, and not dressed, because I have discovered that clothes, and watches and glasses and belts and shoes can really change your weight! So you know---you think, hey I lost weight, and then you weigh yourself at night with a bunch of clothes and bam, you think you gained....yeah, I know, you all knew this, but on behalf of the ignorant here, be generous.
I am 135 right now, a week later. I was 134, but I go up and down here and there, so it's not bad. My bodyfat is 32%, which is a hell of a lot lower than it was before. (I told you I had no muscles...if you check the web, that is baaad baby.)
So I've stuck with the no alcohol regime, (12,000 extra calories per month if you have a couple glasses a night, eeek!!) and I am eating smaller amounts of normal meals, but all the same things. I am not buying smarties and Reese's peanut butter cups which are my major weaknesses, and I am trying to eat some more veggies, but I already have enough diet restrictions as it is, since I am severely lactose intolerant, and have other health issues, so I can't do any of the fad diets out there, or detoxing, or protein diets.
I am stuck with moderation. Nuthin' fancy. I already eat pretty low fat as it is, since everything I touch is dairy free, but I have to make the kids meals with some dairy and higher levels of fat or they will not have the normal weight gain they need. We try to keep the transfats to a minimum cause they aren't good for anyone.
But in the end, I just eat a smaller portion of whatever I was eating before. Like, instead of 8 chocolate cookies, I only eat two. If I eat none, I just feel bitter and deprived, so I decided not to ban chocolate treats completely.
Okay, as for renovations, we have discovered more leaks in the roof above Kaz's bedroom. And a major crack in the bathtub/shower handle, and I think we have mold in the house again because I am continuously stuffy and it isn't possible to have allergies like this in winter, unless I have mold somewhere again. So my poor darling husband is slowly starting to accept that he has to renovate sooner as opposed to later. The only question is how much to spend and how far to go. Personally, I want to do it right, not luxuriously, but nicely, and live here until the kids grow up and then we can move into a condo. He wants to spend as little as possible (Cheep, cheep cheep says the birdie!) and live here until we can't stand it any longer and then beg on bended knee for someone to buy it off of us. And I'm like, umm, why would we beg? Why would we put in cheap, crappy materials and just have to redo it in a few years when everything breaks? And then he hyperventilates and starts muttering about the market and apocalypse and armageddon and the end of the world as we know it. And I laugh. Cause if he was really worried, he'd stop spending so much money. And honey, can he spend....
But at least he's talking about it, so I have to give him some credit. Now I just have to call our poor architect and have the embarassing conversation about starting up again and by the way he can't show the husband his face because every single time husband gets an email, the hyperventilating starts again.
I looked at the BlogHer registration page and I'm trying to figure out how to sign up, and then realized, holy shit, I'll have to use my real name. I can't just show up with a bag over my face, a wallet full of unmarked bills and a business card with Aurelia on it, can I? I know lots of people use pseudonyms and for them, it's no big deal, but for me---it's personal safety. This is going to take some figuring out. I mean, I'll need the damn passport, and credit cards. And what do they put on your conference badge? Your fake name? Your blog address? Whatever you want?
I'm already planning my wardrobe here...hoodies, a wig, colored contacts, and a set of fake buck teeth.
This is going to be worse than that crime victims conference I went to a few years back, where the person running it decided to have the entire thing filmed and didn't tell anyone before. Then she announced that 80% of the non-police attendees were crime victims. Every single cop, judge, and lawyer in the place was walking up to the civilians on the coffee breaks and asking, "So, what kind of crime happened to you?", cause they had no idea what the hell else to ask. They were horribly uncomfortable and we were all ducking and hiding everytime a camera swung our way. (I mean, duh, we were all the victims of personal crimes, not corporate fraud. Sensitivity--not so much.) It was total utter hell. Most of us didn't want to walk up to the microphones to talk, so there was almost no participation.
But last years BlogHer seemed by all accounts to be very well-attended and lots of participation, so they must be better at it, yet there were pictures everywhere?
Okey-dokey people, I know some of you attended last year and didn't come out completely, soooo, how did you do it? Real Name? Blog Name? Did you tell some people some things, and say nothing to others? Did you have two cards with different stuff on them? Or is everyone magically completely cool?
As for the lasers and health stuff? I am going to call my GP and ask her for some referrals this week. I've been researching and the price and quality varies pretty dramatically. And who knows if they correspond? It's my eyesight at minimum, so I don't want to go cheap, but I don't want to spend stupidly.
Meanwhile, my period will not end, and my hormones are not acting pleasantly. So I'm going to have to get that under control. It's still not good, months later. I'm getting an ultrasound next week to check if the damn Fibroid ever shrank and left.
I have to know. Am I the only person in the blogosphere who still has IF-related health problems after finishing having kids? Cause none of you ever seem to talk about it, unless you are trying for another baby. And I have no intention of spending the rest of my natural life having my period 2 weeks out of 4. It sucks people. Really.
So help? Anyone? BlogHer questions and cooter questions?
Sunday, December 28, 2008
The reason I won't answer my doorbell today
This happens regularly to women who lose a pregnancy under 20 weeks gestation in Canada, at least according to my support group. It doesn't happen to women in Massachusetts or California or any of the other pro-choice states that have managed to write a law determining what should happen to fetal remains, literally thus: all women undergoing a D&C or a natural miscarriage or whatever, sign documents stating what they would like the pathology department to do after they do their mandatory examination of the contents of the uterus: either dispose of the remains as hospital waste, bury the remains as part of a compassionate hospital program, or help the woman to make arrangements of her own with a funeral home.
Those states respect all choices, even ones they don't understand.
No one respected my choice.
No one has the right to traumatize a patient and violate their rights. Ever.
I think I'll just leave the house and not be home today.
Those states respect all choices, even ones they don't understand.
No one respected my choice.
No one has the right to traumatize a patient and violate their rights. Ever.
I think I'll just leave the house and not be home today.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Schadenfreude
Once again, I am trying to listen to my better angel. Considering all the chaos with Liberal/NDP coalition and the Tories fighting for time, you can just imagine that I am glued to the television and computer and news reports. I am trying to be calm and content and wait and see, very mature and reasonable but really, secretly, I am giggling with glee and I want to do a victory dance!!!
AND JUMP UP AND DOWN LIKE A TWO YEAR OLD!!!
But I won't.
Bad me. Terrible. Very very immature. Must restrain self. Show respect for process.
WHILE FREAKING OUT AT HOW AWESOME THIS MIGHT BE!!!
Heh
Ok, on to other stuff. I was feeling a bit calmer because I had tweaked my hormones a touch. I added some progesterone because mine was close to zero, and it has made me feel a bit better. This is good because Friday night and Sunday night we had massive fights with Kaz, over pretty much nothing. Puberty in pre-teen son + premature menopause in mother = sucky house.
Julius' helmet is going well. We slowly upped the time spent in the helmet to 18-20 hours and he now sleeps overnight. The reason btw, that he wears it only 18-20 hours a day as opposed to 24 is because this particular design covers his head on top, except for some vent holes, an adjustable slot with a tightening band, and it goes down the back of the neck to just above the shoulders. This prevents tummy time and riding in some car seats. (Our car seat works with the helmet, not all do.) So he needs tummy time on the floor sans helmet in the morning for an hour or two, and then we do dinner, bath, and bedtime for an hour or two in the evening before it goes back on for sleep. Too much time in this kind of helmet can cause problems with sores on the head due to rubbing. Some helmets are open on top but his head has a pitch that is high in the back and slopes forward, plus we need to deal with the forehead, so this is the one we had to go with.
Have I mentioned the nasty superior comments that are slipping from the mouths of every parent who sees him. Sigh..."I made sure I changed my babies position regularly. Didn't you know to do that? You should have done that. Poor kid, too bad he has to suffer like that."
Nice.
If you see a news report about a woman with a helmeted baby randomly slapping people who speak to her, it's me. Raise bail please. Thanks.
Okay, really I can handle those people.~~~~~~~
(Yes, part of this post did disappear at some point....just in case anyone ever finds the blog. They are nice people I was talking about, just a little unwell in the head. In the meantime, rescue me from the schadenfreude, please.)
AND JUMP UP AND DOWN LIKE A TWO YEAR OLD!!!
But I won't.
Bad me. Terrible. Very very immature. Must restrain self. Show respect for process.
WHILE FREAKING OUT AT HOW AWESOME THIS MIGHT BE!!!
Heh
Ok, on to other stuff. I was feeling a bit calmer because I had tweaked my hormones a touch. I added some progesterone because mine was close to zero, and it has made me feel a bit better. This is good because Friday night and Sunday night we had massive fights with Kaz, over pretty much nothing. Puberty in pre-teen son + premature menopause in mother = sucky house.
Julius' helmet is going well. We slowly upped the time spent in the helmet to 18-20 hours and he now sleeps overnight. The reason btw, that he wears it only 18-20 hours a day as opposed to 24 is because this particular design covers his head on top, except for some vent holes, an adjustable slot with a tightening band, and it goes down the back of the neck to just above the shoulders. This prevents tummy time and riding in some car seats. (Our car seat works with the helmet, not all do.) So he needs tummy time on the floor sans helmet in the morning for an hour or two, and then we do dinner, bath, and bedtime for an hour or two in the evening before it goes back on for sleep. Too much time in this kind of helmet can cause problems with sores on the head due to rubbing. Some helmets are open on top but his head has a pitch that is high in the back and slopes forward, plus we need to deal with the forehead, so this is the one we had to go with.
Have I mentioned the nasty superior comments that are slipping from the mouths of every parent who sees him. Sigh..."I made sure I changed my babies position regularly. Didn't you know to do that? You should have done that. Poor kid, too bad he has to suffer like that."
Nice.
If you see a news report about a woman with a helmeted baby randomly slapping people who speak to her, it's me. Raise bail please. Thanks.
Okay, really I can handle those people.~~~~~~~
(Yes, part of this post did disappear at some point....just in case anyone ever finds the blog. They are nice people I was talking about, just a little unwell in the head. In the meantime, rescue me from the schadenfreude, please.)
Friday, November 21, 2008
After the last post
Just a little message to the new political readers I seem to have picked up lately.
This is not solely a political blog like Liblogs and other aggregators and like many personal bloggers I do not just look at things from an objective point of view. So, when I post about a policy issue that the government needs to fix, it's not because I'm searching for something to say and found a news story, it's because in my own life, I have encountered a particular situation and perhaps have been dealing with it publicly or privately possibly for months. Even if I don't link to precise proof in a post, it doesn't matter, because I'm simply reporting what I as Jane average citizen have witnessed and my reaction to it. If you don't believe what I type, then google your own damn fingers away and find links, or fuck off. Real life is not a university essay, complete with credits and footnotes and bibliographies, and leaving comments asking for proof is high school. This is the real world, complete with dead babies, and live kids, and vaginas, and hot flashes, and discrimination and ridiculous encounters with government and business and neighbours and messy family situations.
So to the commenter, "Fact checker", I left you a comment afterwards with the links you so desperately desired. I assume that you will still doubt me. Your comment wasn't the thing that pissed me off, by they way, it was your name. Oh well, guess who doesn't give a flying fuck about what you think?
As to the subject at hand, the issue still remains and it needs to be said, that if Passport Canada really cared about protecting children from kidnapping and other custodial disputes, then they would require ALL children to present long form birth certificates, and then print those names in the passport of the child. That way a happily married dad could not simply sneakily pack up the kids and flee on a plane with those normal passports to say, the Middle East, and refuse to return the kids. As it is, he could just forge a letter from the "supposed" mom saying he has permission to go and without proof of who the mom is, they would just let the kids go. Poor mom comes home from work, and voila, too late.
No, this is about treating certain children like lower class citizens. If you disagree and wish to be an anonymous tithead, feel free to go back to LibLogs or the Blogging Tories and have fun there. They tolerate that shit. I do not.
Ok, done with that for today. Next.
My Doc called with my hormone levels from yesterdays blood test. Sigh....
FSH 19
LH 11
E2 683
Progesterone 2
I had a sort of AF a few days back. Not much. So this might be early in a cycle. Or not. I have been taking some estrace here and there to help with the hot flashes, but not much else. Debating lower doses of DHEA to help my hormones work nice, without making any eggies. I want to feel normal, but never ever ever ever ever ever get pregnant again. That delivery scared the shit out of me. I'm terrified of dying from another abruption, one that might not get caught in time. And of course, guess who doesn't feel like getting a vasectomy?
Yah
So looking at those numbers, no wonder I feel menopausal. Sooo, I'm going to try to take some progesterone with the estrogen and we scheduled an ultrasound to check on my fibroid. Hopefully it shrank after the c-section, but since it was all done so fast, no one noted it on the surgical report. Also, during surgery no one could find my ovaries. Apparently, they are missing. Should I send out an APB?
Seriously, I love advice from fellow infertiles. Any thoughts on what might be happening?
Is it the fibroid? The breastfeeding? The ovarian failure returning?
Where do you think my ovaries are? On vacation?
I bet they got a passport no problem.
This is not solely a political blog like Liblogs and other aggregators and like many personal bloggers I do not just look at things from an objective point of view. So, when I post about a policy issue that the government needs to fix, it's not because I'm searching for something to say and found a news story, it's because in my own life, I have encountered a particular situation and perhaps have been dealing with it publicly or privately possibly for months. Even if I don't link to precise proof in a post, it doesn't matter, because I'm simply reporting what I as Jane average citizen have witnessed and my reaction to it. If you don't believe what I type, then google your own damn fingers away and find links, or fuck off. Real life is not a university essay, complete with credits and footnotes and bibliographies, and leaving comments asking for proof is high school. This is the real world, complete with dead babies, and live kids, and vaginas, and hot flashes, and discrimination and ridiculous encounters with government and business and neighbours and messy family situations.
So to the commenter, "Fact checker", I left you a comment afterwards with the links you so desperately desired. I assume that you will still doubt me. Your comment wasn't the thing that pissed me off, by they way, it was your name. Oh well, guess who doesn't give a flying fuck about what you think?
As to the subject at hand, the issue still remains and it needs to be said, that if Passport Canada really cared about protecting children from kidnapping and other custodial disputes, then they would require ALL children to present long form birth certificates, and then print those names in the passport of the child. That way a happily married dad could not simply sneakily pack up the kids and flee on a plane with those normal passports to say, the Middle East, and refuse to return the kids. As it is, he could just forge a letter from the "supposed" mom saying he has permission to go and without proof of who the mom is, they would just let the kids go. Poor mom comes home from work, and voila, too late.
No, this is about treating certain children like lower class citizens. If you disagree and wish to be an anonymous tithead, feel free to go back to LibLogs or the Blogging Tories and have fun there. They tolerate that shit. I do not.
Ok, done with that for today. Next.
My Doc called with my hormone levels from yesterdays blood test. Sigh....
FSH 19
LH 11
E2 683
Progesterone 2
I had a sort of AF a few days back. Not much. So this might be early in a cycle. Or not. I have been taking some estrace here and there to help with the hot flashes, but not much else. Debating lower doses of DHEA to help my hormones work nice, without making any eggies. I want to feel normal, but never ever ever ever ever ever get pregnant again. That delivery scared the shit out of me. I'm terrified of dying from another abruption, one that might not get caught in time. And of course, guess who doesn't feel like getting a vasectomy?
Yah
So looking at those numbers, no wonder I feel menopausal. Sooo, I'm going to try to take some progesterone with the estrogen and we scheduled an ultrasound to check on my fibroid. Hopefully it shrank after the c-section, but since it was all done so fast, no one noted it on the surgical report. Also, during surgery no one could find my ovaries. Apparently, they are missing. Should I send out an APB?
Seriously, I love advice from fellow infertiles. Any thoughts on what might be happening?
Is it the fibroid? The breastfeeding? The ovarian failure returning?
Where do you think my ovaries are? On vacation?
I bet they got a passport no problem.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Ups and downs
I just realized that I haven't posted in a while, so I thought I would let you all know what's going on.
Basically, for months now I have been rather disorganized and behind the eight ball. Pretty confused as well. Just before I had the baby I went off my ADHD/ADD medications since I was getting tired and wanted to nap more, plus I wasn't driving as much, and really I didn't think it was helping my blood pressure.
And then after I had the baby, I was very very sick and weak for a long time. I needed to be able to sleep whenever I could and just take care of me and him and let everything else go. (I wasn't very good at that. I kept trying to do things, I'd get frustrated and realize that you were all right to tell me that I should just lie down and chill.) Eventually I did give up stressing over it, which had the unfortunate side effect of things piling up.
I gave up on physio because I could never remember to go there or do the exercises. I gave up on pretty much anything that required me to be ontime and alert. Which means that between missed birthday parties and lost opportunities, life has kind of sucked for the family at large. Nannies can only do so much, reality is that they aren't going to take charge and replace parents completely. (And I wouldn't want her to, but damn if I could teach mine to do my filing and enter all my contacts and appointments into Outlook that would be sweet!)
So here I was stumbling along, and a few days after the election I finally hit the wall.
Or more accurately, I fell back from the wall where I had been adjusting curtains, and stepped on to Julius.
Who screamed loudly, and pitifully all the way to the ER while my husband drove all of us to the hospital. I was hysterical the entire time, convinced that I was a piece of shite mother, and they were going to call CAS, and maybe they should, and boy did I ever beat myself up.
Meantime, guess which baby smiled and laughed for the doctors and nurses the second we arrived? Yep, he was fine, and I was an anxiety ridden mess. They examined him all over, pronounced him perfectly okay, and sent us home, telling me that not to worry. Ha. Commence weeping and guilt immediately in mommyland.
I realized I needed my ADD/ADHD medication again, because I hadn't even been high up. I fell back when I was only 18 inches off the ground for pete's sake! I've always been clumsier off the meds, but this is ridiculous. (My spatial awareness is pathetic, I walk into walls, trip, bash myself, it's not good. ) So I called Motherisk and made another appointment. They took me the next day, and I met with the same Doc I saw before. He was lovely and kind, and very informative. Turns out that they had some data and some studies after he had met with me, and Ritalin and Concerta or methylphenidate, only end up in breast milk in microscopic levels. It's there, but barely measurable. Apparently the breast filters it out quite well, almost completely. Adderall and Dexedrine and various amphetamines do get into breast milk but in very very small amounts, just under 10% in the breastmilk of whatever the amount in my blood level would be. S
So literally less than if I had some wine with dinner or took narcotics for pain relief after the c-section.
In the end, the risk of me screwing up life by not paying bills and accidentally hurting the kids or getting into a car accident if I'm off my medication has outweighed any tiny risk of drugs in my milk. You may wonder, why not formula? Well, both my older kids have issues, Kaz is gifted ADD/LD, and Mac likely will get a diagnoses soon. Would they be even worse if I hadn't breastfed them? I don't know, but I do know that there is lots of evidence that breast milk helps with brain development and considering the pattern the older siblings already have....hell, I'd rather keep breastfeeding, just in case it does help mitigate the risk.
So I'm back on Adderall on most days, and if I get too tired or sick then I'll skip it and get some rest, but for now, this is just the best thing for me and Julius I think. Good news, I have been filling calendars out and writing notes and paying bills and sorting receipts, in between children errands and baby and music classes.
Hopefully, I'll laugh about stepping on him one day, but I have to tell you, I'm really not there yet. Sigh...have any of you ever done anything like this? Dropped your kid, etc.? Please share, even anonymously. I need to feel like other mothers do this, not just me.
Basically, for months now I have been rather disorganized and behind the eight ball. Pretty confused as well. Just before I had the baby I went off my ADHD/ADD medications since I was getting tired and wanted to nap more, plus I wasn't driving as much, and really I didn't think it was helping my blood pressure.
And then after I had the baby, I was very very sick and weak for a long time. I needed to be able to sleep whenever I could and just take care of me and him and let everything else go. (I wasn't very good at that. I kept trying to do things, I'd get frustrated and realize that you were all right to tell me that I should just lie down and chill.) Eventually I did give up stressing over it, which had the unfortunate side effect of things piling up.
I gave up on physio because I could never remember to go there or do the exercises. I gave up on pretty much anything that required me to be ontime and alert. Which means that between missed birthday parties and lost opportunities, life has kind of sucked for the family at large. Nannies can only do so much, reality is that they aren't going to take charge and replace parents completely. (And I wouldn't want her to, but damn if I could teach mine to do my filing and enter all my contacts and appointments into Outlook that would be sweet!)
So here I was stumbling along, and a few days after the election I finally hit the wall.
Or more accurately, I fell back from the wall where I had been adjusting curtains, and stepped on to Julius.
Who screamed loudly, and pitifully all the way to the ER while my husband drove all of us to the hospital. I was hysterical the entire time, convinced that I was a piece of shite mother, and they were going to call CAS, and maybe they should, and boy did I ever beat myself up.
Meantime, guess which baby smiled and laughed for the doctors and nurses the second we arrived? Yep, he was fine, and I was an anxiety ridden mess. They examined him all over, pronounced him perfectly okay, and sent us home, telling me that not to worry. Ha. Commence weeping and guilt immediately in mommyland.
I realized I needed my ADD/ADHD medication again, because I hadn't even been high up. I fell back when I was only 18 inches off the ground for pete's sake! I've always been clumsier off the meds, but this is ridiculous. (My spatial awareness is pathetic, I walk into walls, trip, bash myself, it's not good. ) So I called Motherisk and made another appointment. They took me the next day, and I met with the same Doc I saw before. He was lovely and kind, and very informative. Turns out that they had some data and some studies after he had met with me, and Ritalin and Concerta or methylphenidate, only end up in breast milk in microscopic levels. It's there, but barely measurable. Apparently the breast filters it out quite well, almost completely. Adderall and Dexedrine and various amphetamines do get into breast milk but in very very small amounts, just under 10% in the breastmilk of whatever the amount in my blood level would be. S
So literally less than if I had some wine with dinner or took narcotics for pain relief after the c-section.
In the end, the risk of me screwing up life by not paying bills and accidentally hurting the kids or getting into a car accident if I'm off my medication has outweighed any tiny risk of drugs in my milk. You may wonder, why not formula? Well, both my older kids have issues, Kaz is gifted ADD/LD, and Mac likely will get a diagnoses soon. Would they be even worse if I hadn't breastfed them? I don't know, but I do know that there is lots of evidence that breast milk helps with brain development and considering the pattern the older siblings already have....hell, I'd rather keep breastfeeding, just in case it does help mitigate the risk.
So I'm back on Adderall on most days, and if I get too tired or sick then I'll skip it and get some rest, but for now, this is just the best thing for me and Julius I think. Good news, I have been filling calendars out and writing notes and paying bills and sorting receipts, in between children errands and baby and music classes.
Hopefully, I'll laugh about stepping on him one day, but I have to tell you, I'm really not there yet. Sigh...have any of you ever done anything like this? Dropped your kid, etc.? Please share, even anonymously. I need to feel like other mothers do this, not just me.
Friday, October 10, 2008
So frustrating
I have been madly working on the election and trying to take care of the baby, etc... while also trying to book a vacation for us for Christmas and get passports and deal with house renovations.
And people----if I meet one more $%^&* politician who does not understand the difference between a credit crisis and a recession, and why a credit crisis is worse, I'll be sick. I expect these people to know something if they are running for office. I just went to a fundraiser and honestly, everyone in the room was pissing me off. The lead politician, who we raised money for, kind of got it. He seemed to know that time was of the essence, but he didn't seem to want to do anything about it. Like he wasn't a fan of helping the banks. Which I sort of get, but kind of think is shortsighted.
I may not like doing infertility treatment, but if I don't suffer through it, I won't get to have a baby. Short term pain, long term gain toots. Do what you have to do you know?
And this one woman I spoke to today who just did NOT get it all, made me sad. Mostly because she was so unimpressive. I want to vote for a female politician who gets it, but I don't want to vote for a woman who doesn't know what the hell she is talking about, simply because she is a woman.
Sigh.....when friggin' Iceland has gone completely bankrupt maybe it's not about partisan politics anymore. Maybe we need to all work together?
For my readers, who may not understand the credit crisis either (don't get me wrong, I would not expect any of you to, I only expect professional politicians asking for my vote to get it):
In a recession, only some people are hurt. In a credit crisis everyone is hurt.
In a recession, the rich and the secure part of the middle class will be fine and if they keep spending and investing normally, then we will all be fine, because over time, they will normalize the rest of the economy, and keep most of the working class--working. Their taxes will support the poor with welfare and EI while they dig out. The guy at the grocery store will keep his job selling food, and the woman who ships the food from the wholesaler will keep her job, and the farmer will keep his job because everyone needs to eat, and he gets to sell his stuff to the wholesaler. It's bumpy along the way and not everyone gets the price they want, and some people are in debt over their heads or unemployed and they go bankrupt---but generally it works through the bumps.
In a credit crisis, the farmer wants to sell but will not sell his food to the wholesaler because he can't be sure that the wholesaler's cheque will pass. He has no faith in the bank the cheque is written from. If the wholesaler can give him cash, he might sell the food. The wholesaler might be able to pay with some cash, but he doesn't get paid until the retailer gives him money, so not much is on hand.
And so it goes down the road....each person in the chain refusing to take credit and only willing to take cash, and only cash from some countries, and not others. So the retailer cannot put food on the shelves.
In the end, the rich people, and the secure section of the middle class, goes to the grocery store, and looks on the shelves, and sees---nothing to buy. No matter how much money they have in their wallet, there is no food to buy, at any price.
I hope you guys know how to grow your own food, because I sure as hell don't know how this ends.
That is why every bank and every blue chip company needs to be backed up temporarily by the government until we all start to trust each other again. Personally, I think that all the bankers should be sent to therapy for the next few months. I know a few who are currently sitting in a corner curled in the fetal position, gibbering like idiots. Sad....they used to be so professional looking and all....
Anyway, on to other subjects. I am currently working on passports for us all. I actually had to get baby Julius a passport photo of all things! Little bugger kept smiling at the photographer. He refused to "keep a neutral expression on his face." We finally got one, but I don't know if it's good enough. I guess Passport Canada will just have to suck it up, eh? The solution to my passport woes has been pretty simple. I am now working on the assumption that I will never ever be elected to public office due to my long history of teh imperfection. So who cares if I and every other adoptee in Canada is required to lie on their federal documents in writing? Technically I'm committing an indictable offense, because every time I write down my adoptive name as my "name at birth" I'm lying on federal documents. (unlike in Ontario, where they specifically write in a rule that allows for adoptive names)
But since only perfect white men are allowed to run in winnable ridings and certainly not a former crazy woman like me, who cares? Fuck it, I want to go lie in the sun, and at some point I'll just have to hire a lawyer to mount a defense.
In the meantime, the bigger problem is how to deal with the kid's passports. I finally got the baby's long form birth certificate, required due to the repugnant bastard rule. (Since Mr.C. and I were not married when Kaz was born, all our children must carry proof of who their parents are whenever crossing borders.) The simple way to fix this issue btw, is to require that all children have the names of their legal custodial parents entered into their passports, so that no child is ever labelled a bastard by their own government. Yes, you could just strike down the law since it does violate the Charter, but to protect the tiny number of kids who are in a family kidnapping situation, it makes more sense to just treat everyone the same. Precisely the same. So that no one can ever tell who is born inside of marriage and who is born outside of marriage.
Everyone I speak to thinks this is horrendous, but for now, I am stuck. I figure I'll file a lawsuit after the kids get their passports.
So toots, I am going to try to enjoy my weekend, and see if I can get my husband to look at some vacation brochures and architectural pictures. Thanksgiving is upon us, and Sunday we're having 15 people over again. (Thank God for Whole Foods catering and the ability to hire people to help tidy up.) Monday is tidy up day here at the house and a day off from school for the kids, and then Tuesday is Election Day. We're hosting a home centre for our local Liberal candidate, hopefully he wins, but who knows? We thought the Liberals were sunk, but Dion seems to have pulled it out of the hat and his numbers are climbing.
More later....I have to go fill out the last of the forms.
*Last second update before posting: I just got a call for an appointment at the helmet clinic at Sick Kids for Boo-boo, and now I'm the one in the corner curled in a fetal position gibbering like a baboon....more later.
And people----if I meet one more $%^&* politician who does not understand the difference between a credit crisis and a recession, and why a credit crisis is worse, I'll be sick. I expect these people to know something if they are running for office. I just went to a fundraiser and honestly, everyone in the room was pissing me off. The lead politician, who we raised money for, kind of got it. He seemed to know that time was of the essence, but he didn't seem to want to do anything about it. Like he wasn't a fan of helping the banks. Which I sort of get, but kind of think is shortsighted.
I may not like doing infertility treatment, but if I don't suffer through it, I won't get to have a baby. Short term pain, long term gain toots. Do what you have to do you know?
And this one woman I spoke to today who just did NOT get it all, made me sad. Mostly because she was so unimpressive. I want to vote for a female politician who gets it, but I don't want to vote for a woman who doesn't know what the hell she is talking about, simply because she is a woman.
Sigh.....when friggin' Iceland has gone completely bankrupt maybe it's not about partisan politics anymore. Maybe we need to all work together?
For my readers, who may not understand the credit crisis either (don't get me wrong, I would not expect any of you to, I only expect professional politicians asking for my vote to get it):
In a recession, only some people are hurt. In a credit crisis everyone is hurt.
In a recession, the rich and the secure part of the middle class will be fine and if they keep spending and investing normally, then we will all be fine, because over time, they will normalize the rest of the economy, and keep most of the working class--working. Their taxes will support the poor with welfare and EI while they dig out. The guy at the grocery store will keep his job selling food, and the woman who ships the food from the wholesaler will keep her job, and the farmer will keep his job because everyone needs to eat, and he gets to sell his stuff to the wholesaler. It's bumpy along the way and not everyone gets the price they want, and some people are in debt over their heads or unemployed and they go bankrupt---but generally it works through the bumps.
In a credit crisis, the farmer wants to sell but will not sell his food to the wholesaler because he can't be sure that the wholesaler's cheque will pass. He has no faith in the bank the cheque is written from. If the wholesaler can give him cash, he might sell the food. The wholesaler might be able to pay with some cash, but he doesn't get paid until the retailer gives him money, so not much is on hand.
And so it goes down the road....each person in the chain refusing to take credit and only willing to take cash, and only cash from some countries, and not others. So the retailer cannot put food on the shelves.
In the end, the rich people, and the secure section of the middle class, goes to the grocery store, and looks on the shelves, and sees---nothing to buy. No matter how much money they have in their wallet, there is no food to buy, at any price.
I hope you guys know how to grow your own food, because I sure as hell don't know how this ends.
That is why every bank and every blue chip company needs to be backed up temporarily by the government until we all start to trust each other again. Personally, I think that all the bankers should be sent to therapy for the next few months. I know a few who are currently sitting in a corner curled in the fetal position, gibbering like idiots. Sad....they used to be so professional looking and all....
Anyway, on to other subjects. I am currently working on passports for us all. I actually had to get baby Julius a passport photo of all things! Little bugger kept smiling at the photographer. He refused to "keep a neutral expression on his face." We finally got one, but I don't know if it's good enough. I guess Passport Canada will just have to suck it up, eh? The solution to my passport woes has been pretty simple. I am now working on the assumption that I will never ever be elected to public office due to my long history of teh imperfection. So who cares if I and every other adoptee in Canada is required to lie on their federal documents in writing? Technically I'm committing an indictable offense, because every time I write down my adoptive name as my "name at birth" I'm lying on federal documents. (unlike in Ontario, where they specifically write in a rule that allows for adoptive names)
But since only perfect white men are allowed to run in winnable ridings and certainly not a former crazy woman like me, who cares? Fuck it, I want to go lie in the sun, and at some point I'll just have to hire a lawyer to mount a defense.
In the meantime, the bigger problem is how to deal with the kid's passports. I finally got the baby's long form birth certificate, required due to the repugnant bastard rule. (Since Mr.C. and I were not married when Kaz was born, all our children must carry proof of who their parents are whenever crossing borders.) The simple way to fix this issue btw, is to require that all children have the names of their legal custodial parents entered into their passports, so that no child is ever labelled a bastard by their own government. Yes, you could just strike down the law since it does violate the Charter, but to protect the tiny number of kids who are in a family kidnapping situation, it makes more sense to just treat everyone the same. Precisely the same. So that no one can ever tell who is born inside of marriage and who is born outside of marriage.
Everyone I speak to thinks this is horrendous, but for now, I am stuck. I figure I'll file a lawsuit after the kids get their passports.
So toots, I am going to try to enjoy my weekend, and see if I can get my husband to look at some vacation brochures and architectural pictures. Thanksgiving is upon us, and Sunday we're having 15 people over again. (Thank God for Whole Foods catering and the ability to hire people to help tidy up.) Monday is tidy up day here at the house and a day off from school for the kids, and then Tuesday is Election Day. We're hosting a home centre for our local Liberal candidate, hopefully he wins, but who knows? We thought the Liberals were sunk, but Dion seems to have pulled it out of the hat and his numbers are climbing.
More later....I have to go fill out the last of the forms.
*Last second update before posting: I just got a call for an appointment at the helmet clinic at Sick Kids for Boo-boo, and now I'm the one in the corner curled in a fetal position gibbering like a baboon....more later.
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