A Little More On The Swine

I went to my doctor last night to see what I could take to calm my cough. It wasn't so much the cough that hurt...it was the aching ribs. Therefore, calm the cough = ease the achy ribs. Turns out, Robitussen or Benylin are okay, I just take half the recommended dosage. Doc would have swabbed me for H1N1, but the Regina lab has ordered that no more swabs be sent in - they are over loaded. My doc also told me that out of the 10 or so people he is swabbing in a day, half are coming back positive.

Just to draw a quick picture, here's the chain of people leading up to my being sick...the boys' mom boss got the boys' mom sick. The boys' mom passed it to Joel. Then to Colby. Between those two, one of them passed it on to me. After I got sick, the boys' mom's hubby and his son got sick. Apparently, it was confirmed this afternoon that the hubby and son have H1N1. I'm a little skeptical about this being "confirmed" since this info came from Colby...who has a tendency to add on, misinterpret or omit pieces of truth. It was our own family doc that supposedly confirmed it, but my question is, how do you confirm H1N1 without a swab? Mike pointed out that if 50% of your patients are coming back positive for it, chances are likely you'd become pretty good at weeding out who has it and doesn't.

We're still waiting to hear back about Joel's swab from last Friday. If Joel's comes back positive, it's likely that what I have right now is the good ol' swine flu. And I'm more than okay with that. Because that means I won't have to get the vaccination. Plus, you could add my story to the "good"...meaning swine flu doesn't kill everyone in comes in contact with. I'd be really curious to see the numbers showing how many thousands of people contract and live through getting H1N1 compared to the handful of people that have died from it.

And unless I or someone in this house actually has H1N1, this will be the last time I post on it. I'm guessing you're all as tired as I am about hearing about it every which way your turn.

My Mistake

I jumped the gun little early with the previous post. There are actually two things worse than being sick and having your pubic bone constantly popping:

1) coughing so much that your ribs get sore so you reach the point that with each cough, your pubic bone and your back pop, plus your ribs feel like they're being stepped on

2) having zero appetite in the last three days so that you develop a mild enough case of diarrhea so when the the above coughing gets a little too rough, you can actually and literally shit yourself.

Maybe I should wait until Thursday to post this...perhaps I'll be vomiting all over myself by then and this whole "I-just-shit-my-own-pants" thing won't seem so bad.

Insert Appropriate Swear Words Here

Do you know what's worse than being sick and coughing, hacking and sneezing? When every single time you cough, your pubic bone pops and cracks. All. Frickin'. Night. And. Day. This is pure and utter misery. Scratch that...this is hell on earth. I can't lay down because the coughing intensifies. I can't sit because the cracking feels worse. I can't stand for too long because then everything hurts. I tried having a bath and fell asleep in there (which was actually kind of nice). But now Mike has gone to work and he made me promise I wouldn't bath again (because no one would be around to wake me up).

With each cough, I tense up because I know the stupid bone is going to pop. And I know it is going to hurt. So I try not to cough which is like trying not to laugh when something is really, really funny...the more you try to hold it in, the worse it gets and it just builds and builds until you have to let it out and its ends up being worse than if you had just let it go in the first place. Like the title says, insert appropriate swear words here.

If I haven't said it before, I'll say it again...this whole pubic thing totally sucks ass. And there's nothing that can be done about it. My only consolation is that it will go away when Baby is born. Universe, I am begging you...please give me a fair labour after all the other shit I've gone through with this pregnancy. If you can't give me a fair one, than at least give me one where I can be knocked the f**k out. That's all I ask.

Stupid Media And All Their Hype

We've been on the go since 7:00 last night. Joel had a slight headache, minimal fever and cough yesterday. Because of his CP, we were debating about how pro-active we should be with this whole H1N1 scare. Do we wait to see if he gets worse before doing something about it? If we wait too long, can anything be done? We decided to go to the walk-in clinic and the doc there said everything looked fine, besides a little fluid in his ears. Nothing to worry about.

Fast forward to this morning. Joel was extremely hot and was pretty out of it while Mike was getting him dressed. Mike was putting Joel's pants on, but Joel kept asking, "Why are you changing my diaper? I'm not wet!". He must have said this at least five times. Any other day, we would have kept Joel home from school. But he was excited because of the party-type things happening (movie, pizza, dance etc). So, we loaded him up with Advil and sent him off.

I had a prenatal appt. this morning at 9:00. As soon as the bus left with Joel, Mike changed his mind and wanted to take Joel to the family doctor, to piggy back on my appointment (our doc has said that Joel never needs an appointment...just to come in). So, we went to the school and loaded Joel up in the van. Doc checked over the symptoms...fever and raspy cough...and ended up doing a H1N1 swab. He prescribed the anti-viral med of Tamiflu. He also advised we keep Joel at home. When we told Joel this, he freaked out and started crying. We decided his freaking out would only make things worse (more coughing, make his headache worse etc.) So, we dropped Joel back off at school.

Then, we went to Walmart to fill the prescription. While there, we loaded up on more things for Baby (more specifically, pink things for Baby). Then, it was back to the school to give Joel the Tamiflu and more Advil. We came home and Mike promptly went to bed and I headed off to EI. While waiting in line at EI, Mike phoned me to say Joel had thrown up at school and needed to be picked up. I finished with my appt and went to get Joel. It's now 2:30pm and Joel is finally tucked into bed for some much needed sleep. I, myself, am trying to keep as far away from him as possible.

I'm just so tired of all this H1N1 scare/hype/pandemic. I really think the media is making it out to be worse than it actually is. It's not the actual flu that can kill you...it's the pneumonia or respiratory illness that accompanies it that does the actual damage. Mike and the boys will be getting the vaccine, no question. For me, I haven't made up my mind. There is a Q&A sesson at the public library on Tuesday night (for pregnant women). I will decide after that. The idea of taking a vaccination that has had zero testing scares the bah-jeezus out of me. I honestly feel like I would rather take my chances with catching the actual flu than taking the shot. We'll see though...the dates planned for vaccinating PA have been pushed back. I'll probably be a mom before the vaccines actually do show up.

And since I don't really have any humour to inject into this post, kindly entertain yourself by making a farting noise with your mouth :-)

Counselling Does A Body Good

Can you tell by my rapid-fire posts that I'm feeling much better than I was back in June/July/August? I'm still attending both of my "crazy" appointments (as I call them) every two weeks. My counsellor and pyschiatrist probably wouldn't agree with that term, but the name has stuck for me.

My pysch appointments are short and consist of my doc asking how I'm feeling, how I'm sleeping, what my energy levels are like etc. They only last about 20 minutes. My counselling appts. are much longer in length and more in depth. We talk about whatever I want to talk about. The one session consisted of 45 minutes worth of discussing my compulsive need to have the dishwasher properly loaded. I was happy to hear my counsellor has the same woes in her household!

I never did end up taking the anti-depressants my family doctor prescribed. Both he and my psychiatrist were a little leery, but my counsellor was more than willing to help me work things out without the aid of drugs. I have added an Omega 3-6-9 and a Vitamin B-Complex to my nightly line up of pills. I am just so happy that I've made it this far without the anti-depressants.

I've come a long way since June. No more invasive, negative thoughts. When I look back, I'm not sure whether it was full-blown depression, stress or pregnancy hormones that were causing me to think bad things, but I'm happy to say I haven't had a single "episode" in two months.

There has been one magic phrase that I have found myself repeating in many different situations and it has gone a long way to shift my thinking and stop the triggers that used to set me off before..."How much time and energy do I want to waste being angry/sad/frustrated over this?". I've learned to recognize which situations are within my control to actually change and which ones are not.

Case and point - the other morning, Mike let me sleep in while he got Joel ready. I was nicely snuggled in bed, but all I could hear was Joel constantly talking talking talking. Then Colby started nattering away about something and I hit my breaking point - wtf was the point of letting me sleep in if everyone was talking at normal volume (our walls are very thin)?? I stomped out into the kitchen and repeated this last question to Mike. I then believe I told Joel that as much as I would like to tell him to shut-up, I wouldn't, because that would be rude so I won't tell him to shut-up. I emphasized the words "shut-up" as much as I could. I then stomped back off to the bedroom. I huffed and puffed for a minute or two and then realized my actions just pissed everyone off and would start their days off poorly.

I thought about how I was already awake and nothing would change that. Plus, they weren't talking loudly to intentionally tick me off...they were just sharing morning stories with their dad. I slunk back out to the kitchen while Mike was in the bathroom. I stared down Joel for a moment or two (he's never sure if I'm kidding when I do this, but I always am) and then I started to tease him about kissing girls in his dreams. He was laughing and giggling by the time the bus showed up. Later, Mike thanked me for "sending away Crazy Morning Bitch" and for turning things around so quickly.

I really do owe it all to my counsellor. We've started to space my appointments by a month. With the last four weeks to go, I will see both of them on a weekly basis (since hormones start to go crazy during that time). And I will DEFINITELY keep seeing them after Baby is born...just in case I suffer from post-partum depression.

Can I say it one more time how thankful I am that I didn't take the drugs, but that I did start counselling? Everyone in the house has benefited from it :-)

Think Pink

I'm scared to take the plunge and buy all things pink. While two ultrasounds have confirmed my intuition, I just keep thinking that until this freeloader is evicted, we just can't be sure. That being said, even though I'm scared, I'm still jumping into the world of pink with some (okay, most) things.

The nursery will be pink and chocolate brown. We can't start the nursery until the basement is finished. Thankfully, the last of the flooring will be installed this Thursday and then Colby can move back downstairs. I'm hoping to get the carpets cleaned and to start painting before the weekend is done. Tomorrow, I'm going to Canadian Tire to buy the cutest pink chandelier. As I type that, I'm shaking my head thinking, "If it turns out to be a boy, that's one more thing you'll have to return". Whatever. I'll deal with it later if I need to.

I went to a consignment sale a few weeks ago. As I walked in to the building, I told myself I would only buy unisex clothing. When I saw the racks upon racks of baby girl clothes, I went ballistic. I scooped 15 outfits for under $20 in a matter of minutes (this particular sale can get ugly pretty quickly). How do you say no to deals like that?

As I wander up and down the aisles in Walmart or Superstore, I oogle over all the pretty pink things there are to buy...blankets, bibs, soothers, socks, sheets, mobiles, hats, snowsuits, sweaters...there are just sooooooo many things I could be buying right now, but I need to show some self control. Honestly, my head is just swimming with all the things there are left to buy and there are only 10 weeks left to go!

The pile of pink clothes I bought from the sale...there are just too adorable!

















This little sleeper is my favourite...it is that soft velour material. And those little feet with the sticky bottoms - I could just nibble them right off!




















My favourite onesies..."Daddy's Little Girl" "Cupcake" and "Let there be cake"




















Little caps and socks. Yes, when I bought the caps, I held them down near my lady business. I just about fainted at the thought of something that big coming out of something so small.

So, I need to ask...for those of you who found out the sex before bay-bee was born, did you start buying in particular colours or did you stick to unisex colours until you knew for sure?

The End Of An Era

I've posted the story before about how Mike and I met. Mike just told me tonight that the gas station (Husky) where we met will be permanently closing soon. When he said that, I felt like we should go pay our last respects. That job at that gas station were some of the best years of my life and still have an impact on me today.

When I graduated from high school in 1997, Husky was the only place I wanted to work. I didn't want to be a waitress or some retail clerk. I didn't want to work at a fast food place. I only wanted to pump gas and I wanted to do it at that particular Husky. The staff there were funny and friendly and it seemed like a fun place to work. Plus, it didn't hurt that it was an all-male staff and they were all pretty cute :-) I was hired on in September 1997 and worked there until 2000 (I went back to work for a different boss in 2003, but it just wasn't the same).

When Mike and I have trouble falling asleep or are bored during road trips, we sometimes play different "Husky games". Although we never worked there together, we did both work for the same wonderful boss and the routine was the same for both of us. We try to remember the order that the cigarettes were displayed. We think about all the different things that had to be done during the afternoon shift change or the evening cash out. We compare notes on how we stocked coolers or did the gas dips (measuring the levels of gas left in the underground tanks at the end of each day). We both fondly remember making dry ice in the summer and changing the CO2 tanks. We laugh about "the bingo rush" and the interesting people who came through at that time (the gas station was situated between two bingo halls and when the evening bingo game let out and the night game was starting....whooo-weee! did it get busy!).

We share individual memories of the funny/crazy things that happened to each of us. Things like the mop/sword fights or having hurdling competitions over the oil cart were one thing, but making dry ice bombs or starting patterned fires on the counter using lock de-icer probably shouldn't have been attempted around large tanks of gasoline. And I still can't believe we ever smoked inside the gas station, but those were the days when smoking in public was still acceptable.

Two painful memories that stand out for me are (1) having a wasp fly under my glasses and sting me right on my bottom eyelid and (2) walking into a trailer hitch and ending up with a golf ball sized lump on my shin. One of the more embarassing memories include the night when I was filling up an Oldsmobile (whose gas tanks are under the back license plate). The gas nozzle slipped out of the tank but the trigger was still locked in place. In the process of jumping for the nozzle, I ended up getting soaked in gas. That's a taste one doesn't forget very quickly.

One of my favourite memories was one morning, when a female customer came in, paid for her gas and walked out the door. A moment later, she returned. As I started to ask if she forgot something, she said, "I just wanted to tell you what a beautiful smile you have". And that was it. I was sort of stunned, but I stuttered out a thank you as she walked out the door. It was at that point I realized the weight that an unprompted compliment can hold and I try to find something nice to say to different cashiers/servers. It can do wonders for setting a positive tone for the rest of the interaction.

I could go on and on about all the memories I have of that gas station, but I'll leave it with just the ones above. But I do want to stress how that place set the tone for the level of customer service I now expect of other servers, based on the level that I gave to people. No, I wasn't perfect and I did get into spats with certain customers, but it was in a deserved situation. And I have to say that I am absolutely appalled at the lack of customer service nowadays. These kids can't even count back change properly (the tills do it for them) and don't even get me started on the crappy, lack lustre attitude. I'm referring to all businesses, not just gas stations. Argh...but that's for another post, another day.

I am so thankful I was hired on at Husky. If I hadn't been, I never would have met Mike. I really am sad that station is closing. If I played the bag pipes, I would play the funeral song when the current owners lock the doors for the last time.

The Evolution Of Correspondence

My sister left for Germany fourteen years ago to be a nanny (for a year) and she never came back. She ended up falling in love with a German farmer (who was the uncle to the boys she was in charge of) and has lived there ever since.

Back in 1995, the phone rates to Germany were roughly $2.00/minute. Needless to say, phone calls were few and far between. The internet wasn't a popular thing back then, so we did things the old fashion way - we wrote letters and plunked them in the mail box. Within a year or so, my parents bought a fax machine and holy canoli! was that ever cool! We still hand wrote the letters, but it was sooooo neat how it could reach Jenn in a matter of minutes!

In the summer of 1997, my parents finally got connected to the internet and so began the email exchanges. And you could even send pictures! I remember being so amazed at seeing pictures of my nephew shortly after he was born. For the past 12 years, we've stayed connected with my sister with email and phone calls (the rates have dropped dramatically since 1995).

When my parents started their world travels three years ago, we kept in contact through email (I couldn't imagine my parents being gone for months at a time and only having sporadic phone calls to keep in touch). This year, we've added a new feature to the correspondence saga...Skype. It's basically video calling, but the extra feature is that you can phone people's landlines or cell phones from your computer (Skype is free from computer-to-computer, but you do have to pay if you want to phone landlines).

So this time around, I've been able to chat with my mom while she sits in the lobby of her hotel/castle in Ireland. She walked around the lobby with the laptop and showed me all the cool features of the castle. On the flip side, I can take our laptop downstairs and show her the progress with the basement renos. As we get working on Baby's room, I'll show her that as well. Of course, most importantly, I can also show her my belly as it continues to grow and she doesn't have to feel like she's missing out on the tail end of my pregnancy :-)

My grandma often talks about how her generation has watched the world go from horse and buggy to the automobile and from radios to internet. It makes me wonder what kind of technological evolution our generation will witness?

One Week Today

A week ago this morning, my cats were still alive. I have cried on and off throughout the week, remembering, "Last week at this time...". Last week at this time, as I was feeding the cats their morning wet food, I cried, knowing that would be the last time all three of them would circle around my feet and meow, whine and beg.

It's been a long week of seeing them where they should be, but were not. My black winter boots at the back door look a lot like Ping. The shape of the vases on our dresser look like Sophie watching over us. When Mike came home from work in the morning, he expected to see Ping at the back door, but she wasn't.

It's also been a long week of trying to get the last image of them out of my head...the two of them, laying on the table, side by side, staring vacantly off into space, their little souls no longer in their bodies. Yes, that's right...I believe my pets have souls.

The day we put them down, I kept bugging Mike (somewhat jokingly) that I wanted another kitten...something to help me with my mourning. If Mike would have said yes, I would have been at the pet store in a heartbeat. But then it dawned on me that it wouldn't be fair to Ping and Sophie...they would have been needlessly put down if I was just going to get another cat. So, as a compromise, I bought myself a large, pink stuffed cat from Stupidstore. It will go in Baby's room eventually, but for now, it sits on top of my dresser, watching over Mike and I, just like Sophie used to do. Only it doesn't shed nearly as much. Or shit in obscure corners of the basement. Or puke in the center of the hallway so that when you get up in the middle of the night with barefeet, you step right in the pile, letting the barf squish between your toes. Oh, the good memories just keep on rolling...

The Art Of Sleeping And Getting Up

Someone recently asked me what I do with my time now that I'm not working. I'm not going to lie...I sleep. As much as I can. I do finish whatever else needs to be done. But, for the most part, I nap on and off throughout the day. The reason is because I have the shittiest sleeps alive lately, so I feel the need to stock up on it when I can.

A typical night time routine for me involves:

- changing into my pjs (which involves a lot of groaning and grunting because I have to lift one leg off the floor and this causes a fair amount of pain)
- climbing into bed (which involves a lot of groaning and grunting because I have to separate my legs and this causes a fair amount of pain)
- shifting into position to get the body pillow between my legs (which involves a lot of....ah, screw it....are you seeing a pattern here??)

Everything I do causes me grief, groaning and grunting. Trying to roll over is one hell of a feat. It's not so much my belly that's causing the pain...it's my pubic bone and my tail bone. Mike made the comment a few weeks ago of "Don't take offense to this, but you sound like a beached whale when you try to roll over". If I hadn't laughed so hard, I would have punched him in the face.

Every shift and every roll causes either my pubic or tail bone to snap, crackle or pop. If I cough when I'm laying down, you can literally hear my pubic bone pop. To add to the matter, I've started to tense up when I need to roll because I'm anxious about the pain I'm about to receive. Let me tell you - being all tense and tight really doesn't help the situation. I've started to grab onto the head board in an effort to propel myself over. I am just one pathetic sight to behold when I attempt this.

So, after a crappy, restless night of sleep, it's time to get up. I hobble and limp my way to the bathroom to empty my very full bladder (and this lovely event happens at least twice a night). Honestly, the first five minutes of my being up is just as pathetic as watching me roll over. Then, it's time to alternate lifting my feet off the floor so I can get dressed. More groaning and grunting ensues.

Am I painting a clear enough picture of why I have crappy, horrible sleeps? And of why I nap whenever I feel it? Also, I'm a smart enough chickie to know to take advantage of this free time NOW because I won't so much have it in three months.

And a positive side, Baby kicked my tummy so hard tonight that my t-shirt jumped :-)