Procedure went okay. Feel like I've been run over by a truck, but that'll pass, right?

Am still groggy from the anesthesia (and yes, I know I misspelled that but the brain isn't working just yet) and have this nausea that won't go away. Been two days since the ordeal, and while I'm feeling a little better, it's not all that peachy just yet.

Still waiting on the results.

Feeling like I should be writing or doing something more productive than just reading Spuffy fics, but I can't muster up the energy to do that. I have some stuff done, but eh, maybe over the weekend, while I'm sitting around doing nothing. I dunno. We'll see.

I'm tired.

Cough from the bronchitis is worse since they knocked me out, and it hurts when I cough. *sighs*

So that's it on the updates.

I have bronchitis!!!!!

Yeah!!!!

My hemoglobin count is now down to 8.4!!!!!!

I'm falling apart!

No worries about the gall bladder surgery on Monday. The GP said there was no way she was authorizing any surgery for the gall bladder removal until my other situations were cleared up.

So, instead of taking iron pills twice daily, I have to take them three times daily; I'm on 500mg of Cipro twice a day, in addition to taking whatever else I need to get my iron count up. Green leafy veggies, red meat. . . raisins, dried apricots, anything that my gall bladder will tolerate to help the production of red blood cells. Cool, huh?

I also have to have a D&C on Wednesday.

Joy. Oh joy.

*sighs*

I had my pre-op testing yesterday. Remember how I posted that my red blood cell count was horrendous? I haven't gotten the results back from the blood tests yet, but I'd imagine they were still pretty freaking awful. I still feel like crap, and although the chest x-ray came back normal, I'm still coughing pretty hard (and spewing yellowish gunk), not to mention the congestion in my head.

The PA took one look at me and asked if I was anemic. When I related to her my recent history with doctors and tests -- she told me I was probably septic when I was admitted to hospital in April (given the white cell count) and the antibiotic they put me on. She then stated "You shouldn't have the surgery on Monday. Call all the doctors and get them on the same page. Have all the results sent to all of them."

So I did.

I go see the GP tomorrow and hopefully they'll have all the results. Personally? The way I feel right now, I'd rather not have the surgery.

*sighs*

In addition to the gall bladder being really bad, there's a cyst on my right ovary that's sized between a golf ball and a tangerine. Lovely, right?

So now I've got a decision to make. Do I push the GP and make him fail me? Or do I take my chances and have the surgery?

I don't have the energy for anything resembling thought right now.

Been a while since I posted anything. Then again, I'd rather not post anything when I don't have all that much to say. I'm still sick -- actually worse than I was before; I'm not sure that the pre-op testing will result in a postponement of the surgery, especially since my hemoglobin count is at a solid 9.2 -- and no, that wasn't from the Russian judge. Normal, in case anyone is caring, is 13 for women and 16 for men. So yeah, that's one reason why they'll put it off. Another is the fact that I've got this cold flu? plague that I can't seem to shake at all. Been fighting that for the better part of a week.

And of course, it doesn't help that I think I'm growing moss between my toes. This rain -- I swear we're going to have to start commuting everywhere in kayaks and dinghies. I don't think we've had sun in NY in weeks. I'm not sure I even remember what it looks or feels like. It's June, and I'm wearing wool socks, and contemplating turning the heat up. *shakes head*

I'm blue. Down and dreary in the dumps and I can't shake the doldrums. I realize that it's mostly because of my health issues, but this weather isn't helping either.

*sighs*

I'm gonna go wander around and try to find something fluffy and happy to read.

I think something's wrong with my brain.

I keep forgetting things that I've done -- like pay bills, and not remembering things I didn't do. Like get back chapters from my wonderful, long-suffering beta, the incomparable Spikeslovebite. Why she puts up with me I don't know, because I'm . . . *shakes head*

I'm freaking losing it.

So, I could post the chapter, except it hasn't been edited yet. In the meantime, I'm going to look for quotes and write the next chapter. Coz that's one other thing I need to do.

I'm a slacker. For the numerous reasons why, I'll spare everyone who doesn't want to read it, and put it behind the cut.

( Read more... )

So, there you have it. All the reasons why I'm a slacker and my apologies for it. Hopefully I'll be forgiven.

I missed Jaesha's birthday yesterday -- so happy late one, sweetie. I've missed you lots. . . hope all is well with you. . . and when you do see this, drop me a line!!

I'm making slow progress on the healing front, but I am back at work. Well, except for the whole playing hookey thing today, that is.

I went to the surgeon last night and there's good news all around. No pain from the infected gallbladder, I get to wait a month before I have to see him again, and -- best news of all -- I lost nearly ten pounds since I got out of the hospital. I'm feeling more like myself again, and I'll have the treadmill here this weekend, which means I'll probably drop a few more pounds in the next weeks. I have to loose another ten pounds before the surgery, according to the surgeon, but I'd like to drop twenty. I'd be over the moon with that.

From what I understand, there's something of a weight loss anyway with gallbladder surgery, so I also have that to look forward too. Positives all around.

*sighs*

Now if I could just find more motivation to write, I'll get there.

I'm starting to get better. Little by little, I'm getting back on my feet. Tomorrow, I'm going to tackle the world of work again, and hopefully I won't be so exhausted I'll end up right back in bed. And I refuse to go to the hospital again, unless I'm scheduled for surgery. We need to come up with a better place for sick people. Hospitals suck.

On another note, I double checked some of the reviews for my other stories while I was checking on the new chapter of Resolutions, and I found one of the best reviews I've ever gotten. Just really blew me away and made my whole day. Brought a smile and a tear to my eye. And just because it's so lovely, I'm posting it here, albeit behind the cut, just in case no one really wants to read it.

( Read more... )

I'm putting this behind a cut, because I don't want to hear it in case some people don't like spoilers. Not that there's much of one anyway, if you've been paying attention.

( Read more... )

Oh god.  I am so happy to be home.

I've just spent the last four days in hospital, dealing with an infected gall bladder and a nasty blockage.

I can't really post much, because I'm wiped out, but I'm home.

Just because -- well, I'm a leo, and taking this quiz?  Completely of the natural.  Now any one of the answers might have fit, but I tried to get the ones that really, truly were me.

And this --- *laughs*  -- this is what I got.

*laughs harder*

You Are a Black Panther

You see through people. You understand others' motives and plans. You have a knack for predicting the future. You just know what people are going to do. People are attracted to you. You are naturally able to influence other people's thoughts. You have the charisma to be a beloved guru or dictator. It's all about how you handle it.

For nearly the last three years or so, I've had a real issue with how some things are getting done at my job, and pretty much for most of that time (especially in the last eighteen months) I've had days -- ah, more like weeks -- where I haven't had a damn thing to do, and no way to write (because my boss, and I use that term very loosely, wouldn't have any qualms about checking what I was doing).  So I was reduced to writing by hand in notebooks, which, to my eyes looked even more suspicious.  There were a lot of other things that shouldn't have been allowed, but because my real boss was being led around by his penis, we had no choice but to go with the flow.  Things changed a bit when the new administration took over, and she was relegated to second fiddle.

Well, she's second fiddle no more, and that thorn that's been plaguing my side for the last three years is gone.  Gone, gone, goodbye and good riddance.

I'm in the position I should have had two years ago, and in "charge" (and no, I'm not going to let this go to my head, because, really, I've been in charge of businesses before and I am very much a benevolent boss).  As long as the work gets done and everyone's doing their jobs, I could care less about how they look and how long the task takes.  We work for the government.  It'll get done and be done well and to the best of our abilities.

However, since I've been kept completely out of the loop for the last three years, I now have to get myself up to speed on everything that's pending in my office.  Which is a legal office.  So, district attorney stuff, litigation matters, etc. . .  basically we're running a small city, and I've been marginalized (my word of the week) without a clue as to what's been going on.  And all that has to change, and change fast.  Translation?  I'll be working longer hours, working weekends (so yeah, I'll be working tomorrow) and generally trying to get myself acclimated to the new job.  In addition, I have to read every single email that was sent by the old boss over the last three years and figure out which ones we have to keep, which ones we have to act on immediately, and which ones could be potentially hazardous.

All this while doing my old job.  So yeah, I'll be a busy camper for the next couple of weeks, if not the next couple of months.

But hey, I'll be getting myself a decent laptop, and I'll be able to work on stories that way.  I always thrive under pressure, and I usually get more done when I'm busier than the other way round.  Too much time on my hands makes me crazy and not in a good way.  It also decreases the amount of storytelling I get done, because my brain disengages, for some weird reason. 

I'm hoping that all this will be a good thing.  

Can't sleep.

Stomach is in knots over what's going to happen .  .  . what could happen, what might happen tomorrow when I get to work.  I so don't want to have to deal with anymore histrionic and overly-dramatic bullshit.  I'm so done with this whole scenario and some people that I can't deal with it or them any longer.  I don't want to get vilified or burn any bridges, but christ alfuckingmighty, I'm so done.

I shouldn't be losing sleep over this crap.  I shouldn't be worrying about this at two fifteen in the morning.  I should be blissfully asleep and snoring.

But no.  I'm wide awake and all tied up in knots.

Fuck.

Just in case anyone was in doubt about how fucked up and  crappy my day was --

two people noticed my eyes were purple.

Aside from the fact I've been fighting a migraine for the better part of 3 days, there have been some other things on my mind.  Stuff that sort of weighs heavily (somewhat) and contributes to the lack of sleep and the migraine.

As some of you know, I work for a small municipality, not far from NYC.  Like all municipalities, we have elections every two years, on the odd year.  This past month, we had an election for the mayor, some trustees and the judge.  Well, the team I've been working for, for the last decade and a bit, lost.  Which means there's a huge turnover in administration.  Luckily for me, I'm safe,because I'm now clocking nineteen years in the same place (can you believe it?  I can't, and I've done it).  So, the boss I've been working for is gone, his doxy, erm floozy, erm, assistant is gone within a month, and we'll have all new players on the scene.  And, in the immortal words of Grima Wormtongue, "it's an ill wind that blows no good", yours truly is getting a sort of promotion.  I have no idea what it is going to entail, other than keeping my new old boss' calendar, going through the mail and all other things associated with the secretarial position. . . but it's mine.  So yeah.  Go me.  Whether or not this will actually translate into more money, I have no idea.  That awaits to be seen. 

One other thing on my mind is my eyes.  The prescription in my left is going from really bad to really worse.  If you've ever seen an eye chart, you know that it's a block of white surrounded by black, with black lettering.  Without lenses, I can't even see the crisp lines of the white block.  To me, it's all just a big blur.  And not in a good way.  What that means is I have to go back and get another new lens.  This will make my tenth lens on that eye.  Easily.  In fact, I think the number is closer to 15, since the original diagnosis.  *sighs* 

And lastly -- my Nick.  He's not doing well.  He's had another operation, and his mother fears that the cancer is spreading from his brain into the rest of his body.  Gods help us.  This is the worst possible news.   I'm worried and scared and praying as much as I can -- every minute I think about him.  His mother is running out of funds and we're going to have to find a way to raise money without her jackass of an ex-husband finding out and freezing the funds (which he did to the proceeds from the first fundraiser -- rat bastard).  So if you can spare the prayers, and brainstorm some ideas about fundraising, it would be much appreciated.

I'm sorry about this downer post, I am.  But I've been holding some of this in, needed to talk about it, and well, I can only hold onto it for so long before my head bursts.

Saw this on Redwulf's LJ, and because his results were. . . well, not what I'd call entirely accurate, I figured I'd better do mine.



So, okay, maybe this time it got it right.  But Wulf?  As a messenger?  Um.  Worlds of no.

Just got home.   Addie and I went to see Fleetwood Mac at the Garden -- and yes, that would be Madison Square -- and they were. . . in a word -- Outfuckingstanding.

Buckingham is such a underrated guitar player.  He was in top top form tonight.  Strumming and picking and rocking hardcore, like it was 25 years ago and they weren't all pushing 60.  Even back in teh day, when I saw them the first time, he wasn't this good. 

Stevie's voice can't hit the high notes anymore, but god bless the woman.  She wrote pure poetry and when she sang Landslide, I couldn't stop the tears -- it was possibly the best rendition of the song I've heard.  Beautiful.

Mick Fleetwood is a lunatic.  Sheer madness.  Just insane.  Have no idea half of what he said, but it was all immaterial, because the man's facial expressions are priceless.

John McVie was himself.  Quiet, unassuming and just rock-solid.  Never missing a beat, always on time.  Wonderful bass playing.

They played all my favorites -- skipped over most of Christine McVie's songs, but honestly, no offense to Ms. McVie, she wasn't really missed. 

There was a moment, actually a few -- but -- Addie will correct me when I'm wrong -- but I think it was after Gypsy, when Stevie and Lindsey shared a wonderful, wonderful moment.  Then sort of embraced at the end of the song and it was soo sweet.  Like all the pain and heartache of the past is just that.  Past.  And all that remains is the beautiful music.

So yeah.  Great night.

To one of my favoritest people on earth.  Here's to you, Tam.  Hope you have a happy day. . . . and well, if you sign on sometime tonight or tomorrow night, I'll have some ficcage for you. . . of course, you'll have to beta it, but I don't think you'll care.  Much.

LOL

*tosses confetti*