Not moving on like I would like to be

I have discovered that when I am not doing anything else, my lovely experience with "awake fiber optic intubation" pops into my brain. It's pretty unpleasant to keep reliving the experience. I also still have a sore throat and a fat lip. I found out the name of the anesthesiologist (I love the internet) who was in charge of my "excellent adventure" and I wrote an EXTREMELY long email to my surgeon. Hopefully I will be able to put it behind me over the next few days.

I still want to know why they did it. I have had general anesthesia 4 times over the past 4 years (before this time) and I was always asleep when they did the intubation. If there was a problem in the past they should have told me. I also would have appreciated more of an explanation of what was going to happen and what sort of instruments there would be using. When I opened my eyes at one point the fiber optic scope looked like a damned octopus hanging in front of my face.

Anyway it's over. I've done everything I can to address the situation and all I can do is try to be sure it doesn't happen in the future.

A month of anxiety for nothing?

Note to the squeamish or those who don't wish to know about my va-jay-jay troubles...stop reading now and come back when I've added a new post.

Those of you who know me personally know that 4 years ago I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. It was successfully treated with high-dose hormonal therapy and as of May 2004 was cleared. I was maintained on lower dose hormonal therapy and I had several successive biopsies and complete D&Cs that showed normal cells. This changed in early June when my latest biopsy came back with abnormal cells. My gynecologic/oncologist (aka GYN/ONC) said he needed to do another D&C to "see what's going on in there" (as though my uterus is hosting a raucous party). Said D&C took place yesterday.

This was my day:
Got up at 3:45 AM, had to give myself an enema (after the one the night before), showered, and was in the car with The Wife at 4:30 AM. Made the trip to the hospital an hour away. Checked in at "Short Procedure Unit", was interviewed, given a shot of blood thinner in my stomach (whoever invented the stuff needs to work on the formulation - that shit stings like crazy), and fitted with lovely thigh-high compression stockings. Taken to waiting area outside OR. Interviewed by anesthesiology resident (who has probably been a doctor for about 3 weeks given his unfamiliarity with procedures and the fact that new residents start July 1). Anesthesiology resident soundly abused by nurse (she said she needed the chart to check me in, which took 30 seconds and consisted of asking me my name, what procedure they were doing, and my doctor's name. He gave her the chart but asked for the labs from it so he could continue his job. He was polite and professional; she was not. Then she snapped at him again when he asked where to find the surgical consent form in the chart.) Anesthesiologist arrived (resident's boss essentially). She did the IV (thank you, done in one stick; I hate when they let the resident try first when they know I'm not an "easy stick".) Then she decided that they needed to intubate me before I was asleep. I had to breathe liquid lidocaine to numb my throat (BLECH!), then they put lidocaine gel on my tongue (MORE BLECH!) and then they tried to intubate me (they had given me some medication to make me relaxed). I promptly gagged and threw up. It was lovely. They realized they hadn't suppressed my gag reflex enough (I could clearly hear all the discussion that was taking place) so they sprayed more junk in my mouth and had me gargle with more nasty crap and finally (I can see the cords...) they intubated me and knocked me out. They managed to give me a fat lip during all of this manuevering too.

Afterwards (when I was awake but only halfway) the GYN/ONC came to talk to me. Apparently they managed to put a hole in my cervix or detach my cervix from the rest of me in one spot so he had to put in a stitch and was sending me home on antibiotics. Then he told me the kicker: "There's nothing there. I don't know that I even got an adequate sample for the pathologist." Basically he was telling me that the lab may have made a mistake (not the lab at his hospital, the lab my insurance company insists all outpatient testing by done at). We'll know more in a week or so. It appears that I probably had a month or more of anxiety, a horrible experience with anesthesia, and a hole put in my cervix for NOTHING!

The day at the hospital was capped off by the fact that they won't release you until you pee. Normally I lie. I go to the bathroom, wait a few minutes, and tell them "I peed, now can I please go home?" Now they measure. You have to pee in a "hat" and you have to have a certain amount of output (100 cc or 3 oz) before they let you go. I tried to pee around 11 or 11:30 (after 8 oz of cranberry juice and a cup of tea and 1 liter plus of IV fluid) but no luck. Then I started drinking water and finally 3 cups later I went. Of course, after all that water we had to stop on the way home so I could go. The McDonalds we stopped at had no power but The Wife made a plea for them to let me use the bathroom. Peeing in the dark in an unfamiliar bathroom after having general anesthesia is its own special trip. The manager did give us 2 bottles of water though.

In the end all I really care about is that I am probably not having a recurrence of the cancer and I don't have to go back on the high-dose hormonal therapy (which has some major side effects).

Snark, Snark, Snark

Normally I do not give two shits what celebrities do. In general, as far as I am concerned they can pretty much do and say whatever they want as long as it's legal. That said I was basically struck dumb by the following photo. WHAT was she thinking? She looks like Rudolph Valentino.


Photo by: Gianmarco Maggiolini

Photo taken from: http://www.garbospeaks.com/Valentino/

What I learned on Saturday

When you buy two new cell phones WITH CAMERAS and you attend a professional sporting event, do NOT leave both phones in the car. We did not leave the phones in the car by accident. It was very purposeful and even was discussed as we left the car. Of course, while standing in line for the ATM I saw someone who looked just like someone I used to work with. She was known fondly as "The Troll." If I had the camera I would have snapped her picture so former co-workers and I could have figured out if it was really her. Then the Phillie Phanatic came out in the 5th inning with a HOT DOG CANNON. He was shooting wrapped hot dogs into the stands. The best part was when one blew up all over the field just behind first base.

It sucks to be a grownup sometimes

Recently The Wife and I got new cell phones. I decided that I wanted a new ring tone. I was looking through the available tones and came up with 2 that I would love to have - The Lumberjack Song from Monty Python and a Beavis and Butthead bit. I, of course, did not buy either one because I decided that the first time I forget to put my phone on vibrate during a client meeting, someone will call and my phone will start screaming "I AM CORNHOLIO. I NEED TP FOR MY BUNGHOLE." I am sad that I care. It makes me old.

The dog is a complete spaz

I received the note below from The Wife the other day. We are trying to teach our dog to be less hyper when walking anywhere but our backyard so The Wife took the poochie to a lake near our house for a little stroll. I'm not sure why I found this so amusing but I did. Probably because I have seen what an "interested" pooch looks and sounds like. Quite indescribable.


We have returned from our walk at the Lake. Pooch is asleep on the cool floor here in the kitchen. We walked an (as of yet) undetermined distance with relatively few difficulties.

Difficulty 1: Forgot to bring baggies so when she had her horse-sized doot, I was forced to dump her treats into my shorts' pocket and use that baggie.
Difficulty 1a: There are no trash cans along the path - just at the parking lots, so had to carry the baggie of horse-sized doot for the remainder of the walk.
Difficulty 2: 4 VERY LARGE SWANS. Needless to say Pooch was extremely interested.
Difficulty 3: Lots of people walking & running - and many of them had baby strollers - extra interest for that.
Plus #1: She's NOT interested in people on bicycles.
Plus #2: She only pulled for difficulties 2 & 3 - the rest of the time, she was very, very, very good on the leash.
Plus #3: She only stopped to lay down & rest once.

I'm sorry, Brady Bear

Last Monday the wife and I adopted an 18-month old male miniature poodle to be a companion to our nearly 4-year old female miniature poodle. Yesterday, we returned him to his breeder. He was basically still a puppy, albeit one with a few bad habits already. However, he was settling in to our house and was a furry love bug. The problem turned out to be our existing poodle. She got more agressive with him as the days went by. We had to keep them separated inside and if either one was loose in the house we had to supervise them to keep them away from each other's crates. We also had to closely supervise their time together outside. We had our trainer in on Saturday and she got to see a dog fight. She gave us some techniques and recommended a book called "On talking terms with dogs: Calming signals". The whole process was absolutely exhausting and we were keeping both dogs crated far more than we were comfortable with. Finally yesterday we made the decision that for the well-being of the household, we should return the fuzzy boy to his breeder. She accepted him gracefully and said that if our female had not accepted him already she probably wasn't going to. I feel like such a failure. I feel like I should have been able to make it work and create a "peaceable kingdom". I feel like we failed in training our first dog and made it so she couldn't accept another dog but she is otherwise a good dog. Spastic in her greetings (according to our trainer she was just born that way, not that we can't make it more socially acceptable) but otherwise a good dog.

I want to save every dog that doesn't have a good home but I can't do that. The whole situation just makes me cry.

Bear, I hope you find a forever family all of your own who can give you all the love, treats, and training you deserve.