Tachycardia

We are 79 days from wedding day and I must admit I have a lot of mixed emotions. I am very excited to celebrate my partnership to G in front of our family and friends. I can't wait to wear my dress. I can't wait to see our friends from far and wide as well as those who live right down the street. I CANNOT wait to see my brother and my parents. However, had we known we would be buying a house and all of this nonsense mere weeks before the wedding I think we likely would have opted for a wedding in G's folks backyard followed by a camping trip to the coast or something like that with our buddies. And, with guilt in my heart I must admit that right now that sounds like a lot less work.

The truth is that I feel married to the Hubbs. I feel like we have forged the first of our bonds in the fire of this past year. It sounds all cliche' but it has been a hell of a year. We have moved in 4 days and lost another house, we have (very much together) put me through a fast paced year of medic school and done it all on less than 2 full paychecks. We have dealt with lots of challenges and come out (as I see it) on top every time. We are like a cat who seems to land on its feet.

Wedding wedding wedding....It all seemed like such a good idea at the time. We were happy where we are and with all of the things we had. We have asked for money to help send us on a trip to Africa with Project Helping Hands as "honeymoon mission". NOW we are looking at all the stuff we need for this new house. I am not talking about candle sticks and crock pots or fancy linens and crystal. No, I am talking about a door that fits the back doorway properly, a deep freeze for the basement so we can buy locally raised antibiotic and hormone free meat in bulk and at a budget saving cost, shelving for the basement. I am talking about frames for the artwork we have recently acquired so that we don't start in this house with the same college kid feel as our houses before. It is all very materialistic but they are things that would make starting out in this house so wonderful. Anyway, that is where I stand in my poverty mind swirling with wants and "needs".

I must give a thank you to the mother in law, without whom I would have significantly more anxiety about just about everything from school loans to commitment. I will preface this by saying that my mom is one of my very best friends and she is number one in my book of bad ass, smart, wonderful women. That said, the mom2 is a total gift in my life. She is a friend in the same time zone when I need one. She is a total insomniac so she is my late night life line occasionally. She has a wicked sense of humor and she seems to "get" me. She certainly loves her son but on some fundamental level I think she must see something of herself in me. She seems to get the person I am trying to become as well as the person I am right now. She seems to understand that occasionally I need to share difficult things and I just need an ear not a remedy and I don't want to worry my mom so far away. Also, she is married. She has been married to the same wonderful, funny and stubborn man for over 30 years and shows no sign of changing that. My parents were married for 32 years and for 95% of that time I saw a happy, compatible partnership. My parents did not fight, nor did they speak disparagingly of one another ever. I had a true friendship as my model for what a partnership should look like. My parents divorced and I think I have said before that I think it has all shaken out for the best. I think they are more truly themselves now and I am happy and proud of them both in their own ways. I think I win twice because I saw a healthy marriage model as a child and then saw two people self actuate as "grown-ups". That said, my mother is no longer married to a man and there is "stuff" around all of that. This makes her not the absolute best person to talk about weathering the storms of a life long marriage. Not for lack of wanting to be that person....she just has some opinions now that I can't totally access on this end (the new end) of a partnership and adult life. It does make her a very open person to talk to about shedding the weight of the "musts" and "shoulds" and for that I can't begin to thank her. Anyway, the mom2 and I see eye to eye on so many things and that brings such a light to my heart I am tearing up now as I write about it. Talking to her today was really great.

Internship:

Wow! First let me say that I haven't even done anything cool yet but I LOVE being on the ambulance and running calls! I am starting to get pretty good at starting IVs in the back as we trundle down the road at a bumpy 40-60mph. I have spent the last two weeks running generic rather crap calls. We had 2 trauma entries but nothing even all that grand about either of them. The take home message is DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE MORONS!! Next week I will be working with a medic who is known to be intense and a little "particular" about the way things are done. Ed, my preceptor now, is a pretty laid back guy. He is a good teacher and since we haven't seen anyone who requires ANY sort of medical knowledge to care for it has been a little hard for him to challenge me. R.C will challenge me no matter what. I have already started reviewing protocols and medication doses so I can be ready to be "pimped" (put on the spot with questions).

There is something cool about riding around all night keeping watch on the city. It feels a little like a band of secret superheros. I know that sounds super geeky but I can't help it. No one thinks about it but at any time of day or night there is an ambulance not more than about 8mins away from where you are ready to help you if you get ill or hurt. We will come to your house, check your diabetic husband's sugar and put a line in, give him an amp of dextrose, wait until he is conscious again and making sense, then we will make him a turkey sandwich or maybe PB&J, check his sugar again and when we are satisfied that everything is OK, we will pack up our stuff, shake your hand, pat your husband on the back and tell him to finish the whole sandwich before going back to sleep, and we will leave....back out into the predawn darkness....back to our street corner. It is not a glamorous world. It is full of dirty corners and dirtier houses. It is full of people who want to hurt one another or themselves. It is full of sickness and death and bullshit. But it is a noble profession. I never would have thought I would be joining the ranks of these superheroes but here I am. They won't give me my own cape or even a good superhero name for a few more months but I am here, learning. Helping the watch standers and watching over the city.

So that is about the gist of things right now. I have been writing to my best friend who shall be henceforth known as "the captain". I have been trying to put together weekly house/wedding/school updates for her. It has been helpful for my processing. I find sometimes (like today) I just feel totally socked in by worry. I worry about everything but mostly money. I hate not getting a paycheck right now. I hate having to rely to heavily on the Mr. Its not really my style. However, it is my reality. I suppose I shall just keep my snoot down as the Mr likes to say, and work hard, try not to kill anyone and get the house packed up. That is the best I can do so off I go....

And The World Spins Madly On....

The Hubbs and I escaped to the woods a little over a week ago for a little camping trip with friends before my internship started. We packed (waaaaaaay too much shit into) the Jeep and tossed the dogs in on top and headed out of the rainy blah on this side of the mountains, to the sunshine and PERFECT weather on the other side. We spent the first night setting up camp and gathering wood and oh yeah, seeing a black bear and cub trying to cross the street! Eeep! It was a sight I won't soon forget. The momma came lumbering down out of the woods and saw us, turned tail and headed back up the embankment. Seconds later a 5oish lb cub comes tumbling down into the road, sees us, sees that his momma is already splitting in the other direction and follows her. G and I looked at each other and were dumb struck. "Duuhh, I thought you said there were no bear out here?". "Duuuh, I didn't think there were any." Thank you Steve Irwin!

We had a wonderful time with our friends G and C. They are recently engaged and planning a wedding for fall 2011. C is my kind of girlfriend. She is a little off beat and has a sly sense of humor. She and I fall just about equally on the apathy control freak scale of wedding planning which for me lately, has been just apathetic of center. Anyway, we both fret (very small scale) about things like our dresses and the food. She too is going the simple inexpensive dress route but still, like me wishes on some level to feel more beautiful than on any day of her life so far. I feel that! I am not even squeamish about it anymore. I love G and I am pumped to marry him! I want to look smokin' hot! Or AT LEAST feel really, really pretty.

On Thursday, G and I ran around the lake we were camped by (13 miles of trails!). It was a fun and staggeringly beautiful run. My shins couldn't even complain with the soft spongy trail beneath my feet. We took the young dog who did a great job on and off leash in the woods. I love taking her to the woods to run. It just makes her so happy.

On Friday, our other friends showed up expanding our merry little camp to 5 people and 3 dogs. It took a little time for the freak dogs to all settle down but soon it was a peaceable kingdom and the people were roasting sausages and drinking beer. It was so much fun. The next day I went for an accidental 9 mile run. I miscalculated my distances and my planned 6miler turned into a 9 miler. I did it. I just wondered why I was so dammed hungry. :)

The next few days were filled with failed attempts to fish, canoeing adventures, hikes to lost lakes, watching the dogs tear around by the shore some swimming and others doing everything in their power to "get" the other dog without having to get more than ankle deep. Every night was the same....The old dog would lay down on her bed facing the road on guard duty, the young dog would get very cold and end up either zipped into my jacket on her bed like a sleeping bag, or under a pile of towels and blankets like a living laundry pile. It was stinkin' cute.

On Monday everyone was packing up when The Hubbs received a text from his sis who requested he call as soon as he could. Lilsis does not generally call or text while we are away as she is freakishly respectful of our time together. (I know I said "freakishly" but I mean it in the most awestruck "nobody is as respectful of our time together as she is and we absolutely adore her for it" way). Needless to say he called her back as soon as he got the text. She informed us that we were going to have to move. AGAIN! Because our house was going to be put on the market. I say again, because we have only been in this house since November. We moved because the woman who owned our last place decided to move into it. We have not been here that long but I had imagined we would be here for a long time. I don't know why. We only signed a 9 month lease because she didn't want to end up with an empty house in the winter again...I just didn't think that it would mean we would have to move in the summer.

Anyway, I was mere nanoseconds from freaking out and spontaneously combusting when it occurred to me that I had a choice. I could freak out and cry and be generally miserable for an as yet to be determined period of time, or I could just chill my shit for five seconds, take some deep breaths, admit to myself that the last thing in the WORLD I wanted to do right now was find a new place to live, pack up all of our shit again and settle into a new house, and then I could realize how stressful this was going to be for my partner and best friend and I could rally a positive outlook and start brainstorming ways that this could be OK and good even. I could be a positive force and not just momentum. I could help him feel heard and seen and understood. I could do less freaking out and needing and more standing behind and supporting. Less MY way and more OUR way.

I am under no illusions that I am an easy woman to be married to. I am especially aware that this year sort of blows in sense that while we are trying to plan a wedding, settle into married life, and continue getting to know one another I went to paramedic school. I have been a giant money hole this year. I have been a huge financial burden and he has not said one word about it. He doesn't bitch or complain or point out that he is the money of this operation. He just holds up his end of the deal. ALL OF THE TIME! He does it so well and with no hint of resentment of the imbalance that I feel so strongly having never been the dependant in a relationship before. Anyway, I felt like the least I could do now would be to make a real effort to be an emotionally stable and even giving and supportive influence. I wanted to put his soul and heart in the black instead of the red this time.

We drove home from the mountains that afternoon, scrapping our plans for the second half of our vacation which included a trip to Bend and the High Desert Museum and a dinner date with a dear friend who just graduated from university. We felt like we had been punched in the gut. My wheels were spinning. Was there some way, any way that we could pool collective resources and *whispers* buy a house? That way, we would NEVER find ourselves in this shitty place again. We would never be at someone else's whim for a place to live. We could stop lighting hundreds of dollars on fire every month. The place would be ours to paint, ours to decorate, ours to repair and remodel. It would be OURS. The question remained...how would we put this all together? Could we do all of this in about 45 days? The wedding was in 90 days and we had a lot of people planning on staying with us for parts of the wedding weeks. I was also starting my internship (the work I am PAYING to do) 7p-7a four on four off for the next few months. What a cluster F%$#!

We called our moms. Yay moms! Over the next 4 hours (no joke people! 4 hours and these folks had it figured out!) Our families (all 3 of them) had lent support in various ways to make it possible for us to call a real estate agent and set up an appointment to look at houses two days later. And BAM! Just like that we were on our way to home owning.

Over the next few days we looked at a LOT of houses ourselves. We drove around peering in windows like a couple of perverts. We wrote down MLS numbers and emailed links to the parents. We wrote things of and underlined must-haves. When we finally met with Gail (the most amazing woman ever!) we had 7 houses to look at. This one was small, that one was a dump, this one had a horrible smell, that one a wet basement, this one was too much money, that one just wasn't "us". And then we stopped at Commercial St. A sweet little craftsman bungalow with a finished upstairs, a dry basement, a chicken coop and hardwood floors. (Sorry no pictures until it is ours for good. I am just superstitious) It was lovely and perfect and I wanted to move into it right now. I even like the color of paint on the walls. G agreed and so did Lilsis. We loved it. Gail told us to go home and talk about the houses we saw that day and to sleep on it.

We went home and decided to meet a buddy for a happy hour beer. A little while later we called Gail and asked to make an offer the next day. It was too good to pass up. It was in our price range, it was in our neighborhood area of choice, it was cute as shit! She agreed to meet us the next day to sign offer papers. We got drunk. I think there was even a shot of tequila from our buddy.

We met Gail at the house the next day and toured it and then another house in the same price range. The second house looked like the set of a horror movie. It smelled, it had frightening siding, the trim and floors were a total mess, there was tile and carpet in one of the upstairs bedrooms and the basement was horrifying. I wanted to cry. "OK, Uncle! We will make a competitive offer! The house is a good value! I can't see anymore!" Gail laughed at me. We signed the offer and she turned it in.

They countered and we countered their offer. We agreed on an offer that weekend, 5 days after receiving the letter from our current landlord. Two days later we met the inspector who found nothing majorly wrong with the house. Tomorrow the sewer will be scoped and the radon testing will happen. We will be back to negotiations by Monday or Tuesday. We want them to put in a new back door (one the mice can't get in through) and secure the electrical wires to the house. Minor things really. Fingers are crossed that the sewer doesn't have roots in it!

The Hubbs struggled a little getting in gear with all of this but as of today we have thrown out and recycled about three bins of shit we moved and never unpacked the FIRST time we moved together. We were packing and talking last night and he brought up something really interesting. As a culture, we associate much of our identity with place. Who we are is very closely linked to where we are from and where we live. Moving is a very unnerving process and lends itself to clinging behavior. Especially in our unattached youth. When you are leaving your parents or packing up at the end of university, you hold dear to every stuffed animal and ticket stub from every concert you saw with your buddies as a way to cement that you have a place. A way to be solid in such a groundless time as moving. Even as G and I moved into this house, there was so much uncertainty. It was mostly good but it wasn't any less unsettling to find ourselves moving. This time, the potential is so thick you can cut it with a knife. This will be the house we bring our family home to. Hopefully, this will be the house where they are born. It may also be the house they first come home to though and that is good too. I have the baby bug pretty bad right now and so that is largely how I project my future. I see myself making PB&J sandwiches at the kitchen counter and listening to G reading to our small people on the sofa in the living room. I picture us collecting eggs from our chickens in the backyard and planting veggies in the side yard. I see my life unfolding in that house. Because of all of that potential somehow I am ready to shake loose some of the clutter of my life up to now. I want to throw out those boxes of random shit. I want to send all of those clothes I haven't worn in forever to Goodwill. I want to streamline. I want to prune and make room for the new. It all seems very exciting to be "making ready" for our lives together in this way. Even if the small people don't arrive the way I dream or at all for some time. The house seems like the beginning of something new and wonderful. I need space for it to bloom.

Well, that is just about all the news fit to print. It may or may not be obvious that there are a few upcoming posts. Internship is awesome! I can't wait to start my memoirs of a baby medic. We had our "engagement" photos this week. As if we needed one more thing to worry about! It turned out to be a real blessing. It felt like the cap of a monumental week. It was nice even, to have someone telling me to smooch on The Hubbs. I also need to post about how much my mom rocks. She has just been a shooting star this week. I don't know what I would have done without her. Our moms are a pretty rad pair actually. G's mom is one of my favorite women in the whole world. I can't believe I scored so hard in the mother-in-law department.

Well, I have been running! I am running a half marathon on the 4th of July and I am feeling pretty darn optimistic! I think I am going to win this one! Haha! No really, I have done many more high mileage runs in prep for this run and I think it is going to be more fun than any of the other halves I have done in the last 2 years. I am excited. My body continues to change though not so much on the scale these days. I could eat less cheese and it is about time to go there in the final push for the wedding. However, I am happily trotting along eating what is good for me 80% of the time and getting lots of exercise. Life is crazy but life is good. I will keep posting as things keep unfolding.

Goodbye Old Friend

I went home to Maine this last week. The plan was to go celebrate my besty's graduation from Medical School (I think that deserved capital letters) and to visit my Mother. This trip was nothing like I anticipated when I bought the ticket a month ago. In fact, it became a perfect example of why we should not "plan" or write stories in our heads about what will happen or what the future will be like. That's not to say I don't plan ahead or think about future goals. On the contrary! I am a planning FOOL! What I am talking about is the planning we do when we say "Oh, it will be like this or like that. So and so will behave this way or it will feel like X when I see him or her". That sort of planning is what I have learned to call mental television. It is generally NOT how things end up going and I don't know about you all but I very often end up disappointed that things did not go the way I thought they would or should. As it pertains to this trip back East, I didn't think I would spend the time I did at my Mom's. I also didn't think we would be putting down the very best dog who ever lived. Cede has been my dog since I was about 10. She was my family dog, then she was MY dog as I moved into my first apartment. She was my constant companion. I would throw her in the truck and take her everywhere with me. She was a babysitter with Milo, she was a boat yard dog up in Rockland, she was a study buddy and a snuggle pal on cold, windy nights when the wind shook my rickety third floor apartment way up on Munjoy Hill. I remember nights when I would wake up startled by something and look bleary eyed into the shadows on the sofa in the other room only to create some axe murderer in my mind, sitting on the sofa, waiting for me to fall back to sleep. I would feel my heart pounding (ridiculously) in my chest and I would look over to the dog, asleep on the pillow next to me. Seeing that she sensed no danger and had not awoken to the same imagined horror that I had calmed me. I would stroke her silly ears until I fell back asleep.
Cede was smart and gentle with everyone. She was trained to walk next to me off leash on our morning romps along the Eastern Prom. She lived to be told that she was a good girl. She was also beautiful. She was a "white"Lab. Not a yellow or a blond lab but white. From birth to death she was the whitest lab with a black nose and black eyeliner on. She was stunning even in her gimpy old age.
I left Cede with my Mother when I moved out here because she had become ill and we were all sure that she wasn't long for the world and afraid that she might become acutely ill or even die if she were trucked across the country in a pick-up with no air conditioning in the middle of the summer. That was three years ago next week. She was taken VERY good care of by my Mother and her partner. My Dad was still living in town for most of the last three years and he took her when Mom needed a break or had to travel. As she aged we all became more and more afraid that "at any time now" it might be time. Well, Cede knew better and just lived and lived as happy go lucky as ever. She even traveled to summer camp with my mom last summer where she won hearts and soothed the homesick campers who came to see my mom in the Nurse's cabin called the "Health Hut". Cede was just what the doctor ordered. She was such a sweet thing that even the camp director couldn't get upset when she wandered into the dining hall and became so excited about begging for food that she took a poop right in the middle of the dining room and then looked back at it like "who did THAT?! That's gross!" The campers got quite a kick out of her.
Dad moved west several months ago and it has been all Mom and C taking care of the old girl. She had begun having more and more trouble getting around up and down the stairs. She was coughing and breathing heavily when it got hot and was deaf as a post. After many long hard conversations Mom decided that it might be time to put her down before she crossed the line from old and gimpy to suffering. We could ALL agree that we didn't want to see her get to the point that made you cringe and wish you had done it sooner. She was almost 17 and didn't owe us a day. We owed her EVERYTHING. My Mom had a friend who was a vet and had offered to come to the house and do it with us. Mom scheduled the appointment and we set to spoiling Cede rotten for the next week. It was a horribly bittersweet week. I vacillated between feeling numb and feeling like I was killing her. She was a lab and would honestly, look at you with that sweet happy face NO MATTER WHAT! She was just too sweet. But I could also see that she couldn't get around very well anymore and the things she loved most like swimming and car rides were not easy or comfortable for her any longer.
On Thursday Mom and I got up and took Cede to the beach. She mustered up all of her energy and swam and rolled like a little snow angel in the sand and low tide seaweed. We took her home and gave her a bath and cooked her a steak. Top sirloin and some of my chips and hummus. Then it was time for a nap and a cuddle in the sunshine on the lawn chair. Nellie came over late in the afternoon as the sun was working its way down the back yard. We talked about Cede and she told mom and I about her old yellow lab. I was horridly sad but somehow very comforted by Nellie's presence. I felt like she had her heart with us and was actively participating in loving Cede as we all were. We laied on the deck with her as she drifted off to sleep. Dreaming I hope, of steak and swimming and all the wonderful trips we took together. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Holding her head in my hands and crying onto her black nose while my Mother cried into her neck. But it will also be one of my strongest best memories. We did Cede justice. We loved her so much we let her go before she had to suffer and hurt. We did it together and we were able to think clearly and with enough love to give her the best day ever.
I could never have imagined the richness of the pain and the love I felt all tangled together that day. I get all weepy thinking about it. My heart breaks open when I think of her. She was here to teach us. She taught my family and especially my mother and I what it means to really love a creature. I will forever think of Cede as the world's best dog but it might be more accurate to think of her as my first unconditionally best friend. She insisted on loving me her way and teaching me things with her life from start to finish. I owe her the world.
I was initially angry with my Mom for planning this while I was there. I felt like it was a selfish thing and I was resentful that I was "being put through this" on my vacation. What a Bitch! Me...not my Mother. Mom did me the honor of being there to experience this with her. It has strengthened our relationship. We had to hold each other up through this. I understand now what a heavy mantle she had been holding up being the only one of the original family cast left to make the calls about this old dog who was the most loyal and loving creature but was also ruining her carpets and struggling to remember to pee outside. It was not hers to bear alone and I am glad I could help share it with her. It is no longer my place to think of myself as the child who should be sheltered from these things. I am a member of my family community and a being who shared everything with that dog. It was my duty, my right and my honor to help give her that day and send her to the next life knowing how much she was loved.

So..Yeah, That Just Happened...

This was a scary week. I had my annual exam with my new Midwife on Monday and she found a lump in my left breast. It felt a lot like every other lump in there except it was a little bigger and "funny" on the edges. She told me not to panic but that she wanted to refer me to the breast health center for an ultrasound just to be sure it was nothing. I left the office feeling like a stunned bird who had just flown into a window. I did not see that coming.

In every way I loved this midwifery practice. The woman I saw was just like my mom in her "way" with patients. There was a feeling that finally, I had found someone who would be with me, the way I had always seen my Mother with women. I was instantly very comfortable with her. Then....she did my exam and told me all of this. My mind reeled. I had felt lumps and had written them off as "boob fat lumps". I heard my mom rolling her eyes at twenty-one year-old me saying "it's nothing, you're such a hypochondriac. She told me that "of course, everyone thinks the big C when they hear lump" but she didn't want to freak me out she just wanted to be sure.

She took my blood pressure which was now soundly elevated to about 165/83, did my bi manual exam (always a treat) and then we talked a little more about my health history. I told her yes, I would like to get pregnant in the next two years and I was trying to lose a little weight. She noted that it would be best for me and my fertility to shed some pounds and suggested the high blood pressure diet. Ahhrg! I don't have high blood pressure. My cardiovascular system is in fantastic health. I can run forever! I am over my ideal weight and under the most incredible pressure I have ever felt in my life to "get everything right" right now. Also, I don't sleep normal people hours and I work in a place where people are dead/dying, faking/drug seeking. insane/off of their medications, pregnant and bleeding/miscarrying, or disconnected from the health care system and are using us as a primary care facility. It is HARD to be there and in a job where you get to do very little to make any sort of immediate or long term impact. I am not in a job where I might get a save or make an important call tonight, tomorrow or three days from now. I fetch blankets, dip urine, move people to ultrasound, chart on the broken and dying, occasionally, I do some chest compressions but a trained monkey could fill my slot with very little effort. Sometimes waiting for my job to "mean more" takes a toll. Anyway, all of that plus a fucking lump in my breast is enough to get a girl's BP up. It's not because I am fat. I am pretty sure of that.

So, I left the office in a foggy haze. I kept thinking that I wished I was walking out of there with the happy news that I was pregnant instead of the news of a lump. Wrong kind of lump I thought over and over again. Wrong damned lump! I got in the car and called my mom. I cried and cried. I told her everything expecting that she would give me some sort of "this is nothing" schpeel. Her words were "well how scary is that?" I replied through sobs that it was pretty f-ing scary. I felt so far away from her. So far away from my dad. Shit I even missed The Hubbs mom. I wanted anyone parental around me. I felt like if one of them were there there would be no way some big scary grown-up disease could grow in my body. I knew the odds of this lump being nothing were very very high. I also know that every young woman who has fought breast cancer at a tender age had the exact same odds and there is nothing special about me that should make me any different. Odds are just that, odds.

I got home and the Hubbs was asleep after working the night before. I told him they found a lump in my left breast and he said "oh honey, I'm sorry" and fell back asleep. I didn't begrudge him this at all. I know what REM sleep is all about and I knew that him waking up at that moment wasn't going to change anything. I called the specialist's office and made an appointment for Wednesday. Then I got ready to go to my clinical rotation. That night I was in Labor and Delivery. It felt like some kind of fucked up providence that I would be going to watch women have babies. Warped, I know. Anyway, I went and I observed and it was as miraculous and wonderful as always. I know that sounds dry and devoid of true emotion but my experience in L&D is the subject of a whole nother post on many things including the deep emotions I feel towards women in labor.

The next two days were mostly a big blur. Wednesday came and I got up and ready for my appointment. I walked into an office and filled out some papers with a graphical drawing of two breasts asking me to mark the target area. It felt like target shooting. Next a woman called out "Mrs Melnick?" That was the first time anyone had called me that other than jokingly. Again, wrong fucking ultrasound....Wrong wrong wrong. I went into a changing room that looked like a very fancy fitting room at a department store. I put on this strange cape and a robe and left my pants and shoes on. I was lead to a small room where the Hubbs was waiting for me. A very nice French woman put hot jelly on Lefty and smoshed around for a while. She reported that she didn't see anything concerning but the doctor was in the next room over and she was going to have him come talk to me and have a look. I was half-way to relief. The doctor came is and brought with him a young man about my own age who was a radiology resident. They both took a look at Lefty and there was more poking and now cold jelly. It felt strange to lay on a table with one breast hanging out talking about how I don't have menstrual cycles anymore. Very foreign. He didn't find anything concerning. The lump was a collection of glands and fatty breast tissue. It was normal. I was fine.

I felt happy and exhausted walking out of the office. I decided to scrap the day of school and went home to fall fast asleep in my husband's arms. Sweet sleep of relief. I called my parents and told them to sound the all clear. I was lucky. Barb, Irene and millions of other women are not so lucky. I feel lucky. I will do whatever I need to to loose the pre-baby weight, to stay healthy, to love my own body, to lower my goddamnned blood pressure. I have tasted the fear of illness and I am not ready to fight through it yet. I am not ready to wage that war even with the hubbs at my side. And BOY let me tell you he was at my side.

When I started panicking about the what ifs he didn't tell me I was crazy, when I started fretting that this might mean no babies, no breasts, no...anything...he didn't try to convince me that it was insane. He held me and told me he was sorry I was sad and frightened but that he wasn't yet. He told me he has never doubted that we will have many fat, healthy babies and live a long time together watching them grow up and watching their fat healthy babies grow up as well. He wins! Shit, I win. I married that man. I love him so for all the things he said and didn't say, for calmly going to the appointment with me and for thinking that the most awkward part of the whole day was when the doctor walked in while he was kissing my arm. I love him.

So, the moral of the story is that I don't have the big 'C', I am refocusing my efforts to relax, slim down, get healthy. I went for an 8 mile run with the Hubbs and the young dog today. It was good. I was tired but it was do-able. We had a great conversation about babies and the Hubbs has humored me with the loose goal of Christmas 2011 as the IUD pulling target. I just have to lose the weight and get hired, through orientation, and squirrel away some cash to pay for a home birth.

Midwives, home births, labor and delivery, and nursing school are all topics for near future posts. For tonight I am just thankful to have 2 strong feet, attached to 2 strong legs, 2 lumpy yet, healthy breasts, and the sweetest, strongest, toughest and most compassionate husband ever. And that is more than enough.

WTF?!

I broke my foot in November running the Seattle Half Marathon. I tripped off a curb and felt something icky but kept running...8 more miles...I have been a "big" runner my whole running career and am used to having aches and pains and pushing through them one way or another. I didn't think anything serious was wrong. WRONG! Three days later I was unable to walk at all. I couldn't stand without feeling dizzy, breaking into a sweat and feeling 8/10 pain (10/10 was my IUD). I went to student health and they told me they didn't think it was broken and that I should "stretch it out. GO for a run" I was pretty sure she was full of crap so I came to my hospital and had an x-ray B-R-O-K-E-N! I spent 8 weeks in boot, crutch, post-op shoe hell and the whole time I was swimming and doing water aerobics, eventually I went to the eliptical machine. I was SO good! I did everything the doc told me to and not a thing more. I started working out a little harder with more weight bearing activity about 4 weeks ago, got totally swamped in school and then got SICK. Four days ago I started running again. We went to the woods and ran on the trail. It was Rad! The next day I went running in the city from the hospital after work. My foot hurt. It felt bruised and achy and it only got worse the farther I ran. By the time I got home I didn't want to be standing on it anymore. Ice offered little help and Ibuprofen didn't seem to be cutting the mustard either. I have worked the last two nights and my foot is on fire! I feel like someone ran it over with a truck. I am calling the MD tomorrow morning. I am freaking out inside. What if I broke it again? What if I have a stress fracture?! What if I have to be on crutches again?! WHAT THE FUCK AM I GONNA DO?! I AM GOING TO LOSE MY FRIGGEN MIND!!!
I called my mom hoping she would be able to say SOMETHING, ANYTHING to make me feel better about my pain and my frustration. Nope. Even translating mom speak and her being as understanding and maternal as possible I don't feel better. She gave me a lecture about over doing it and told me to back off and take it easy...blah.. blah...blah. I didn't want to hear that. Anyway, I have decided to call the doctor in the morning. I just want it to be over. I want to go in and have him tell me there is no break, that it is just tissue "pisseed off-ness", maybe hook a girl up with some orthotics and tell me that running is the best medicine. The weather is getting nice, I am getting spring fever and I am NOT going to be a happy girl if I get the no-go on the running. I will keep posted after the phone conversation tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed.

Sometimes Overreacting Happens...

This is an update on the whole brother thing. After a heartbreaking conversation with my mother last night which ended with me making her cry (accidentally), I contacted our "Guy". The one The Hubbs and I had been seeing for help with our premarital counseling. He is fantastic and works almost exclusively with first responders (Fire, EMS, Police). It may sound stupid to those who have normal lives and jobs where they go do work things and come home, eat dinner and go to sleep but some days are harder than others when either you or your partner go to work code someone, take care of an abuse victim, bag a dead body, or deal with jerk face drug seekers all night and then come home just as the sun is coming up to try to get some sleep. It is a wacked out life. It is a good life for me (us) right now but it is not something that everyone understands and talking to a therapist who worked as a fire medic and now works exclusively with this population means I don't have to explain any of that to him. Anyway, I am going to see him because 1. Mom asked me to and 2. I think she is likely right. I get very hurt very quickly and seem to always be looking for a reason to hate him. I need to work on that. I need to stop reacting in the same patterns I used as a little kid. It's not working for me anymore. It seems to be causing me way more pain than it is worth. I want to figure out how to be more balanced and relaxed and I know sitting is part of that but I also feel like a little work with a pro might go a long way to helping me enjoy whatever relationship I end up having with my brother. So, I go to see my "guy" on Thursday. I am anxious.

In very related news of COURSE my brother wrote to me today saying "sorry for the long delay in responding, I have been traveling. Congrats!...." It was a sweet email and it put the final nail in the coffin that I DO need to get some help with my anger and paranoia (?) regarding him and his behavior towards the family and towards me. So I go....

Thousands of Women in Hundreds of Countries Cant ALL Be Stupid...Can They?

I was born in a hospital under the watchful eye of a physician after weeks of bed rest, medications and even surgical closure of my mother's cervix to avoid preterm delivery. By the time the doc decided it was ok for me to come out I was over the whole thing anyway and decided I was staying. My mother had an induction, episiotimy and forceps to bring 7lb me into the world. It is a day my mom says she will never forget.

I was born the week my mother was due to graduate Nursing school. It would be ten years before I would sit in the driveway of Mary Breckenridge's Homestead 'Wendover' in the hills of Kentucky and watch my mother graduate from the Nurse Midwifery Program. It would be three more before I would attend my first birth and another seven after that before I would find myself (unintentionally) alone (due to a tremendous snow storm) attending the Christmas birth of a little boy.

I am older now and friends all around me are parents, pregnant or trying to become pregnant. I am thinking about it too now that I am on the door step of married life. I spend a lot of time thinking about what it will be like to be pregnant, if I can even GET pregnant, how I will handle my type-A-ness in concert with my "daughter of a midwife-ness". I think about how much aversion I feel to the idea of hospital birth. In most states out of hospital means a limited choice of providers as it is largely the Lay Midwife population (no nursing certification or master's degree for those who care)who catches the home births or birth center births.

I am well aware that there are bad lay midwives out there. There are bad mechanics and bad dentists out there too. That doesn't mean you buy a new car every time your oil needs to be changed or that you have an oral surgeon do your routine cleaning. Birth is high stakes, I get it, I really do. However, we have an utter inability to trust women and babies and their bodies in our culture. We think that giving birth in a room with the machine that goes bing, to quote Monty Python, means everything will be perfect or that we will be able to fix anything that is not perfect. This is a bummer!

I was in PALS this week (Pediatric Advanced Life Support). It is a class for EMS, RN, MD folks who may be responsible for recognizing and caring for a child in a very bad situation. We spent the two days running what they call "mega codes". Kids were doing everything from simple upper respiratory infections to horrible trauma and cardiac arrest with shockable and unshockable rhythms. I am not saying any of this to horrify any of you dear non-medical readers, however, my take home message was kids will choke on things, stop breathing, seize and arrest...be ready. Bbbbrrrr gives me the willies just thinking about ever having to intubate or cardiovert a newborn. But it happens and it is important to be ready and to know your drugs and the doses and the algorithms to use in each situation.

I got started on this whole topic because one of the instructors was giving the radio dispatch to set the scene for the call we were about to run and she said something to the effect of "You're called to a home where a mother has just given birth assisted by a midwife *gratuitous eye rolling*, the baby was born under water *more eye rolling* and now is blue and breathing "funny" per the midwife". The lead medic started in on questioning and asked about the labor and delivery and if it was normal, any excessive bleeding, how many weeks mom was, if she had any prenatal care and what the one minute APGAR score was. Great Questions! The instructor replied "this is a lay midwife, *disapproving tongue click* not a medical person, she doesn't know APGAR. And the mother hasn't had any "real" prenatal care. These women never do *eye roll, tongue click*. They have their babies underwater and then wonder why they can't breathe".

I was PISSED!!!! After the scenario was over I talked to the instructor and informed her I felt it to be a pretty toxic and biased view for her to be slamming all home birth mothers as stupid and irresponsible as well as all Lay Midwives as uneducated and negligent. I acknowledged that she probably only ever saw the really bad stuff but that doesn't mean that they are all high risk, stupid or end badly. She said she just presents the scene as she saw it. I said I think she did a lot more than that and I did not think it particularly helpful to impose her biases on a fresh batch of medics. We agreed to disagree and I went away pissed off.

This really chaps my ass, as if you couldn't tell...Childbirth is not an illness women have been dropping babies in the fields of Cambodia, Mongolia, West Africa, Egypt. Hell, even European and Chinese women have higher rates of home birth and lower rates of c-sections and associated complications than we do. Why do we think we are so friggen special?! Why are we so unable to trust ourselves and the providers we chose to care for us? Why must we always have some machine tell us things are 'OK'? Its sad ladies!

Now, lest any of my expecting, or trying, or been there done that got the onsie monkey friends think I am dissing their particular choises I am not. I understand that every woman comes to this situation with her and her partner's own context. I am simply observing the fear mongering and undermining of our intuition that is so rampant in our American culture. It makes me sad that something that is so wonderful has become a medical procedure and in many cases is not in the hands of the woman or her partener at all. It makes me angry to hear and see perpetuation of this behavior in the education of EMS, RN and other "medical professionals".

Fitness Day 29
NO real exercise to speak of in the last 2 days! How depressing! I have simply been exhausted and utterly lacking in time durring all of this PALS stuff. They have been almost 13hr days if you count wake up, travel time, class time and eating (yes I count eating). That's a L-O-N-G day for learning at high speeds. So, I have been working hard to eat sensibly and decrease the calories with the exception of the beer I had last night as my "F yeah I survived this day from the underworld" celebration. I hate drinking alone in bed on nights that the Hubbs works....Anyway, I am at work now and will be headded to the gym here in about 2 hours to get my fittness on before I go home to bed, thus ending my 27hr day! Yay for redbull and green tea!

All I want for Christmas is my mom's plane to land (here, and maybe on time too...)

My Mother will hopefuly be arriving on Christmas night. I say hopefully as there is rumor of a large batch of shitty weather headed to the east that may cause some travel issues. I am staying positive and keeping my fingers crossed that she has a safe and speedy flight over so we can have some time together. My mother lives in Maine. That's 3500ish miles away. I have been over here for almost 3 years now and she still hates it. I do to I suppose. I hate that when something hard happens she is so far away. I hate that when something good happens she is so far away. I hate that there are 3 hours difference in time so that sometimes it is too late to call by the time I get done with my day.

My way of expressing this dislike is by saying things like "I miss you and I wish we were closer." My mother's methods are a little harder to interpret sometimes. For example...I had some pretty significant stomach issues about a year and a half ago. I was working in a job that barely paid me and disallowed me to have another job, had crazy hours and kept me constantly guessing my schedule as well as my work environment. (This was an internship-like job where the connections and the experince are 2/3 the pay. It was part of the get into medical school plan. I didn't ever apply to med school but it has definately paid off in other more important ways). I wasn't making enough money to cover all of my bills and I was begining to live off my credit card. Then I developed an ulcer. I had shitty insurance and was so sick that I couldn't work for several weeks. I called my mom one night worried and broke and feeling ill as well as like a total failure at my new life on the other side of the country. My mom's response was in its most basic description a lecture all about how I needed to learn to take better care of myself and a list of all of the ways I was failing to take care of my self such as not sleeping enough, not eating right, not making a core group of friends, not working in a job that met my financial needs. I was devestated. I just wanted a simple "There there sweety, I am so sorry things are hard and you are sick and frightened. You are not a failure, you are doing the best you can and you are gonna make it." I had forgotten who I was talking to.

My mother has always been no nonsense. She is an extremely loving woman but not in the traditional bake you cookies and kiss your boo boo types of ways. My mother expressed her love by challenging me. I see now that she didn't coddle me because she thought that would make me weak and turn me into someone who couldn't soothe their own hurt feelings or bad days. She was teaching us to care for ourselves and pushing us to need less and less from her and dad. Well, that may be all well and good but sometimes a kid just needs a cookie and a kiss or a "there there honey" phone conversation. It took me a long time to learn that when my mother chews me out on the phone for this or that...mainly for not being good enough to myself, she is saying "I love you. I hate that I am so far away and can't hold you tight and tell you to your face. You are wonderful and capable and smart and lovely but you are human too and humans need food and sleep and days off". Now that is something to hear on a bad day. I count myself fortunate that I have learned to translate long distance mother so well. I am not completely fluent. Sometimes I hear bees when she said cheese and get all wigged out and upset. But most of the time we do really wel.

Anyway, my mom is coming for Chistmas. I will likely be at work on the night of the 25th when she flies in and the hubbs will pick her up from the airport and bring her home to pour her into bed. It will be past one in the morning in her body and that flight is nasty. The next day I will get off work and come home to snuggle into bed next to her for a few hours before we start cooking the Christmas feast. The Hubb's family will be coming over in the afternoon for meet the mom and open the stuff and stuff the face. Then mom and I will have 5days to hang out and plan wedding stuff and see the area. I can't wait. You see, learning to speak long distance mother has brought us a lot closer. It has helped us both feel heard and like we are better listeners. Who doesn't want that?

As I was cleaning up the kitchen tonight I was thinking back and trying to remember when I started to really care what my mom thought of my home. You know, as an adult "woman". I can't remember. I certainly wasn't any time I was still living under her roof as she often threatened to put all of my things into the garage and make me sort it out before putting any of the crap I had in every nook and cranny back into the house. These days I am not so clingy to things. I have moved one too many times to have much investment in anything that takes up any space or weighs anything at all because it just means I am going to have to dust it, dust around it or move it to the next house we live in.

I was scrubbing the counters and thinking about how I want my mother to like my house and my family and my dogs and all of the other stuff I identify as "mine". I want her to approve of the kind of woman I am. I want her to be proud of me and of herself for raising me to be this woman. I want her to think I did a good job cleaning the bathroom. I think it will be important to remember to translate long distance mom even sitting across the table from one another because I don't think my mother is ever going to become June Cleaver or Betty Crocker and I don't think I would like that very much. My mom is fun. She is tough and smart and silly and knows a good time when she sees one. She is also adventurous and brave and loving. I am her daughter and I guess that means I like a challenge. So let the countdown show 3 days until mom arrives. Hip Hip Hooray!


Mom and Hubbs 2B on a ferry back east last year

Fitness Day 5....
*Pilates/aerobics 40min AM ---a bit fristrating as I can really only stand in the hard shoe. I can't flex my foot for pushups or stuff like that. Phooey!
*Pool running (sounds cooler than aquajogging) 60min--PM Took my iPod wrapped it in a plastic bag and tied it to my head so it would be safe from the water. This was pure briliance. I was the only one at the pool so there was a LOT of dancing. I need to make a new POOL playlist. More pop and dance mixes. Woot for cardio.
*Pilates 20min PM -- feeling like an abreviated or just plain simple easy workout tonight. My foot is killing me.