Sparks and Butterflies...

But aside from that, she's still completely normal

Ultrasounds, Mammograms, and why do I always get the newb?

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I mentioned that I went to the doctor, and had some tests that needed to be done. Those were done a couple of days ago.

I had a pelvic ultrasound, and a mammogram.

Because I’m not pregnant, I needed to drink a significant amount of water before the ultrasound. What they neglected to tell me prior, is that when I got to the hospital I would have to do the admitting process first, as if I were checking into the hospital. Which takes TIME. Time in which I still haven’t had my test and needed to pee.

When we finally get into the ultrasound room, they were a bit put out by the fact that Jay was there. Well… This whole thing is a little difficult for me. The not knowing if something is wrong. My bladder (which is always an issue since my second child). And my past victimization have me nervous around things like trans-vaginal ultrasounds (essentially an ultrasound wand goes up into your vagina) because even though I’m there by “choice” it feels like a violation. We know this, and so he came with me for support. I may not show that I’m a nervous wreck, and handle myself well – but I always do better with him there. “Why don’t you sit over there?” “No, thanks. I’m just fine right here.” He was by my head, held my hand, and just unobtrusively stroked my wrist. Sort of a “I’m here, you’re fine, I’m here, you’re fine” mantra message he was sending me. He is awesome, ’cause let’s face it, all this stuff is ALL about the girly bits, which can be a mysterious scary place for a dude.

The whole ultrasound process was a bit of a clusterfuck. First, the lady who first showed us to the room was apparently in training. She says, “I’ll do it first and the someone else will look, okay?” Well, okay. And then stared at me like I was supposed to know what comes next. I just stared back.

Then another lady came in and told me to get on the table, we were apparently going to do the outside before the inside. I told her about my birth defect, and why I was here, which took a little bit. That’s important, because I needed them to look beyond the birth defect — we already know that’s there. And I ask, “Will I be able to pee between the outside and vaginal ultrasounds.” “Yes, but we would have already started if you hadn’t told me that long story.”

Wow! Bitch, much?

I lay down and they do the outside ultrasound. Time to switch. Jay takes my hand to help me up (with my back issues I’m still having, coming straight up is difficult), and the bed goes flying into the ultrasound machine. Apparently, the trainee forgot to put the brake on. Correction — she couldn’t figure out HOW to put the brake on, so she didn’t. Regular lady is not pleased. I go pee, so we can do the vaginal ultrasound. I get back on the bed, now naked from the waist down. They tell me to lay down and I do. Trainee lady comes at me with some cushion thing and stares at me. I stare back. Again. “You sit on this!” It’s a vinyl wedge cushion they apparently wanted me to tilt my pelvis up with. So, Jay helps me do a bridge position so they can slide that in. They do – with the bare vinyl on my bare ass. Regular lady comes in. “I told you before, remember? There is always a sheet between them and the cushion!” I have to do the bridge maneuver again so they can put the wedge under the sheet and me. So, now I’m flat on my back, with a wedge shoving my bits up, and the trainee shoves a clipboard in my face. Apparently I need to sign another release. This time, practically upside down. The regular lady is like, “I think she can wait until after at this point.” So – the vaginal ultrasound gets done. It takes forever, and the lady said not one word at all. None. Zero. Zip. She gets done and tells me my doctor will get the results in a week, and leaves. We’re just sitting there, like “now what?” The trainee lady starts cleaning everything. Around me. Finally she looks at me like – Oh you can dress, sign this first? So I sign, and continue to wait for her to clean so I can dress in some privacy. She was totally clueless.

We move on to the breast center so I can get the mammogram. That place was fine and professional. This was my first one. I can say that it was not painful. A little awkward and uncomfortable, but not painful. However, I would NOT want to do it in the week before my period when I get really sensitive breasts. I bet that would make it an actually painful experience. I kind of wanted say “shut up” to the tech though. I can’t remember how, but the fact that I had just had a pelvic ultrasound came up. Just that. No details. And she replies telling me the whole story of her hysterectomy and how I don’t need to worry about it, it’s an easy process. Woah lady, how did we get from “I had an ultrasound” to “I’m paranoid that their going to cut out my organs?” Then she was annoyed with my hair — apparently it kept getting in the image field. Lady — if you can tame my hair, feel free. I haven’t been able to in 40 years.

Once we left, I was just exhausted.

The doctor was rather non-communitive about what’s going to happen next. I have no idea if I’ll be called about results good or bad. To my knowledge we’re waiting on:

  1. Pap smear for cervix number 1
  2. Pap smear for cervix number 2
  3. Pelvis ultrasound looking for anything abnormal like cysts, fibroids, or other issues with a uterus
  4. Mammogram (but that one was purely standard due to my age – I don’t have any lumps or anything that I know of, just getting a baseline)

So… We’ll see what the future holds.

Now What?

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My history with blogging is long… Very long.

I’ve always been a diary person, logging my thoughts, hopes, dreams, lists, whatever in a personal journal.

I was an early user of personal computers. I learned in about 1992, in a summer school word processing course, that I was able to get my thoughts out quicker, and easier, when I typed. I got my first PC around that time as well. An Apple IIC+ that my mom got me for free by opening a bank account (the latest in the “Free Toaster!” type of marketing). So, I started keeping my thoughts on floppy disk, instead of handwriting them in a paper notebook.

I was eventually able to upgrade my PC, and was able with one of those AOL CD’s you got in the mail, to connect to the internet, and the world opened up to me. I thought have my diary online might be interesting, and in stumbling around, found others doing the same thing. These were “online journals.” Coded in basic scratch html, in notepad, and uploaded to your server space (I got some free space with my AOL account). I hand coded every bit of it. I don’t remember what I called it. Probably Keeargo’s space or some such – I remember Keeargo was my online handle at the time – I think. Sparksfley, and Sparks and Butterflies, both definitely came after marriage, because they were a byproduct of a conversation with Jay. Eventually the evolution of sharing your life online included “web logs.” Note: Online journals were longer diaries with your thoughts. Web logs were shorter, more bullet point type things. Eventually the language changed and “web logs” turned into “blogs.” I remember people were very definitive about web logging and journaling, and the difference between the two. Eventually as online software progressed, the two worlds merged to use the same technology and vernacular, and “blogging” became a verb.

I’ve been writing online since about 1995. My current archives go back to May of 2000 – my oldest, Joseph was a month old. (I lost all the older archives in a fried computer incident before I learned the words BackupBackupBackup and save.) To put that in perspective, that child is now 15 years old and a sophomore in high school.

I was a part of the first wave of “mommy bloggers.” I HATED that term for a couple of reasons. The title seemed to say that I only wrote about my kids and/or parenthood. That wasn’t true. I had been journaling online before I even met my husband. So while I continued to journal into my parenting years, I was blogging about my life, not just one aspect of my life, so it felt like an inaccurate term. The term also felt dismissive, like being a “mommy” somehow reduced the amount of brain cells I had, or somehow negated my opinions. Regardless, I was caught up in that momentum. Marketers were taking notice of both the technology, and the market of mothers. I had advertising. I went to conferences. I did paid reviews. I monetized. I was a part of blogging communities and lists and online events and social media advents like Twitter. The whole.nine.yards. Kit-and-kaboodle. The whole shebang. The whole enchilada… You get it.

But things started getting complicated. My kids started getting older. I had to make decisions on what to share, what not to share. My kids started having physical, emotional, and behavioral special needs. Opening up about those things also opened me up to a whole lot of judgement. My mom’s health declined. I was needed more and more. My son’s mental health was going downhill. It was all so crazy that I quit a job I loved to work from home, because I essentially needed to be geographically located there to help my dad deal with my mom, help my mom, handle all the IEP meetings, and conferences and medical appointments and evaluations.

In addition, the blogging community felt as if it was changing. It was no longer about the freedom of expression, and having a place to vent, and holding a space with others, knowing you weren’t alone. It became about clicks, and visitor numbers, and page views, and Google rankings. It became a high tech version of a junior high popularity contest. In order to keep up with all that you had to churn out (well written, well researched, potentially popular and/or controversial) content to remain relevant or you were punted to the curb, and didn’t get to participate in the goodies. While my priorities were in the right place with my family, I still had a ton of anxiety of the fact that I couldn’t keep up with what blogging had become. I started writing less. You can only say “life sucks right now” in so many ways.

Mom became sicker and sicker. Home care was eventually needed. I was my Dad’s respite worker.

My oldest had tons of medication changes and was in and out of mental institutions.

My husband was out of work for a couple of years and eventually had to change careers entirely.

My younger son needed care and attention with all this going on.

I still had to build my at-home business, because we couldn’t live on Jay’s income alone in our Los Angeles suburb, but I HAD to be available to everyone for everything.

Then mom died.

Then my blog was just gone and sold through no fault of my own.

There’s a reason I developed ulcers, is what I’m saying.

I’m back on a slightly different URL. Maybe I’ll get readers back, maybe I won’t. But you’ll notice the blog is very bare. It is just my thoughts. No advertising. No sponsoring. I’m going back to my html in notepad days in terms of mindset. I’m scheduling time in my planner for writing out my thoughts. Hopes, dreams, rants, raves, tantrums, loves.

The Female Bits

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I’m going through something I’m a little anxious about. Nearly the whole thing is TMI, so you know… Don’t read if discussions about the workings of the female body make you squeamish.

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The more things change, the more they stay the same

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I graduated high school in 1993. That’s 22 expletive years ago.

Anyhoo, as always, there were trouble-makers. Back then, they hung out in the “back parking lot.” No, I wasn’t one of them. I didn’t lose it until I was 22-23, so I was a goody-two-shoes in high school. During my tenure there, the school decided to hire a security guard. We’ll call her T. T. was a very butch, sturdy, tough woman with hair that was thisclose to a mullet. I remember her taking her job seriously, but I also remember her managing to keep a good relationship going with the teens.

Hadn’t given her another thought. Then Logan began going there for 7th grade. (A surreal experience, let me tell you.) I made arrangements the day before school started to walk him through his day before he started to lessen his scatter-brain induced paralysis he tends to get in new/stressful situations. In the office, I ran into T.

SHE LOOKS EXACTLY THE SAME.

Still tough, built, butch, strong, sturdy, and hair thisclose to a mullet.

Logan got into the car after school today and this conversation ensued:

“MOM. You know that lady, T.?”

“Yes.”

“She drives a go cart around campus.”

“Okay.”

“She has a parrot.”

“…okay…”

“She makes the go cart go slow so he can ride on the top and yell at all the kids when she goes by.”

“…”

“She’s… well. She’s… very healthy looking, isn’t she mom?”

God, I love that kid.

Potential Conclusion to our Insurance Nightmare

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in February of 2014, I wrote a post detailing our medical insurance nightmare.

Here’s a the timeline:

  • November 2008 – Leave job with great insurance knowing Jay also had great insurance.
  • February 2009 – Jay loses job to lay off, we all lose great insurance.
  • February 2009 – July 2010 – Pay out the nose for Cobra, then cannot afford it anymore, lost insurance. Get kids insurance through Healthy Families, Jay and I go without.
  • July 2010 – Jay gets new job – we still can’t afford employer’s insurance as premiums = 80% of take home pay. Kids still on Healthy Families.
  • Sometime in late 2011 – Healthy Families is discontinued, kids absorbed by Medi-Cal.
  • Late 2012 – Affordable Care Act comes into play. Kids up for renewal on Medi-Cal. We fill out forms to add Jay and I. Kids renewed, Jay and I in some sort of limbo.
  • January 2013 – Call Medi-Cal, “What’s going on with me and Jay.” “We have no record of you.” “But we were on the same form as the kids you just renewed.” “Sorry. Not Sorry.” Forwarded to Social Worker. Three weeks of phone tag ensue.
  • February 2013 – Social Worker can’t find my paperwork. Give social worker new paperwork. That takes me a week because you have to give them EVERYTHING to steal your identity. Copies of DL, SSN card, Birth Certificates, Paystubs, Bank Account Statements, Federal Tax Returns, etc. In hardcopy form.
  • March 2013 – Send paperwork certified return receipt. I get a voicemail. “While I got your paperwork, we are not allowed to look into Medi-Cal cases until we receive the paperwork from the state. We don’t know when that will be. Goodbye.” So – find out she lied to me. I think she had me do all the extra work (I’d already done on the original forms) as a delaying tactic.
  • April 2013-April 2014 – Call monthly. No word. Start receiving paperwork in Arabic. Correct it. Be told that Jay has “immigration issues.” “How do we correct that? He has to have an annual FBI background check for his job… Pretty sure he’s good!” “Don’t know, he’s listed as ‘other.'” Do not pay tax penalty as the fees were waived for 2013 taxes.
  • May 2014 – Call monthly. Find out we’ve been being bounced from Covered California to Medi-Cal and back again. They look at income differently and we’re right on the border line. Covered California says we make too little for them, bounce to Medi-Cal. Medi-Cal says we make too much for them, bounce back to Covered California. Finally get approved for Covered California for insurance. Pay premium. Receive cards. Go to look up a doctor and my login no longer works. Find out that insurance has bounced us out – literally kicked us out, no refund on premium. “Medi-Cal believes you may qualify for them! You’ll be reviewed in the next 30 days!”
  • May 2014-May 2015 – Call weekly to monthly trying to figure out what’s going on. Oh, there was a computer glitch. Our technical team is working on it. Months go by. It’s fixed! But you need to do a new application with Covered California. Oh, too bad so sad, the enrollment period is over. Pay tax penalty – like it’s my fault that they’re all screwed up. Insult to injury.
  • May 2015-Present – Apparently that insurance we had for 1 whole month saw us during enrollment. But our case looked SO WEIRD in their system that they passed it to their Covered California liaison. This liaison contacts us. They work for the insurance company, not Covered California, however, they work WITHIN the Covered California system. They listen to our whole story. They fix us. We now have insurance.

So… We finally have medical insurance. I literally waited two months, paying the premiums, before making appointments because I was afraid they were going to kick us out again. We have both visited the doctor for the first time in 5 years. What’s going on with us medically is another story for another day. But for now (and I’m not holding my breath), the saga is finally over.

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