Is this from hormones???

Okay, I'm way pissed off, and a sane person shouldn't feel the need to be this angry. So, my impassioned rhetoric is that I am either 1.) not sane, or 2.) hormonal, or 3.) Both.

We were at a girl scout informational meeting tonight. And to be honest, I just don't think I see our lives abandoning all hope and going that route. First off, there was no troop leader for first graders, so we were met immediately with "If you'd just 'step up'" ... okay; I'm turned off right there. The speaker of this meeting's favorite phrase the entire time was "step up." Give me a break. I've stepped up to more things before she even eats breakfast.

But, bless their hearts, two ladies decide to be leaders. Of course, they want to meet on the one night that we can't. Okay. That sealed it for me, but apparently, not for Dale. He asks Emily to go get a yellow sheet on another table with more information.

Oh boy.

Emily doesn't want to. And we've been working on her for the longest time to do things without us, to be more independent, especially if she wants to even remotely have a chance to join G.S. (BTW, she only thinks she'll be going camping.) We're working with her and working with her to go get the yellow sheet. I guess the mother across from us gets tired of us working with our daughter, gets up and grabs a few and spreads them out on our table.

It's just like enablers like that that make dependent brats. I guess the uppitiness just royally ticked me off. I bet she does the same thing when she's told her kid no, but the kid please-pleases her to death until she just changes her mind. We saw evidence of that type of behavior, too.

I was done with this girl scout business, but let Dale make the determination for himself (got to make him think he's making the decisions, ha). We'll find other things for her to do that will help build up leadership; apparently the mother wasn't thinking about that little tidbit, but it's a good thing that she decided to not be a troop leader.

Perhaps I'll feel better later. Or with carbs. Or a smack-down.


I'm writing a letter of complaint

Two days after that idiot doctor at Wichita Clinic diagnosed me with a virus, my real doctor said that I did have a spot of pneumonia on my right lung. Apparently SHE had spoken with the x-ray technician. I can only conclude a few things about I.D. (idiot doctor):

1.) He didn't want me to be right (God Complex).

2.) He didn't even look at the x-rays and/or didn't consult with the x-ray technician.

3.) He doesn't know how to read an x-ray (I really doubt this one).

4.) He relied on his own hearing with the stethoscope, ignored the patient's complaints, ignored everything except what he understood it to be and needed to get rid of this "problem" by dismissing me with a "virus."

No matter how you look at it, this doctor was neglectful, and more serious harm could have resulted from this if I didn't consult my own doctor. Perhaps that's what the i.d. was counting on--> that I'd bother someone else anyway. I could have had two days of antibiotics under my belt if he had just been a doctor.


Immediate Care

I don't get sick very often, but when I do, it's pretty bad. It was so bad yesterday, in fact, that I called my doctor's office around 4:10--not a good thing on a Friday afternoon. I've been coughing for several days, and I was afraid that I had gotten the same thing that Emily had (pneumonia), and if that was the case, I wanted medicine pronto so I didn't have to deal with a substitute for school. I also thought it was suspicious that I had the same symptoms that Emily had about ten days after she did. I showed up at I.C. (Wichita Clinic) at 5:15 and I didn't get out until 7:15 and home at 7:30.

I will never go to Immediate Care again.

I waited 30 minutes before a nurse saw me to take down my symptoms (I had a low-grade fever, my blood pressure was up and my pulse was 93--bp and pulse too high), then I had to go back out to the lobby to wait another 15 minutes. In the meantime, as I'm just trying to hold onto myself because I want to lay down so badly, two very large ladies come into the waiting room. One is in a very large wheelchair, and the other lady wheels her right in front of me and blocks the exit in case the nurse should call on people. We'd have to go around the long way. Okay, no big deal--I'd just work through it and go out the long way, hoping I don't faint along the way, thinking the whole time, why can't she see where she is? Cell-phone guy is chatting away on his phone, and I want to take it and smash it against the wall. But I didn't have the energy to do that. Finally they call me back. I wait and wait and wait.

And then the doctor comes in, and after talking to him, I wished that I had just over-dosed on NyQuil and called it a night. The guy was the three-letter word for butt.

He asked me why I thought I had pneumonia. I told him because my daughter had it and I thought it was contagious. He looked at me funny, and then berated me for being around kids if I thought I had a contagious disease. I told him that I didn't know what I had and I was just run down. Then he told me that pneumonia wasn't contagious. He said a few more things that I just can't remember. He listened to my back and made me breathe, and then he said my lungs sounded fine. Why couldn't he just tell me that I probably had caught a virus and I needed rest, water and Tylenol? Instead, he ordered a blood draw and a chest x-ray.

Blood draw. Oh boy. I'm not usually nervous about a needle, and I wasn't this time either. Apparently my veins are super small, and the nurse stuck me hard, and then wiggled the needle. That's when the world starting going gray. I asked for a drink of water. He said that I could have one, of course, and then he dug into my arm some more. I told him that that hurt (holy cow, that was awful!), and then he called over another nurse to try to "stick" me. I asked for the water again, and my speech sounded like it was slurring. I got the water, but the grayness was thicker, and I bent down to put my head on my lap. The other nurse asked me if I needed to lay down, and I nodded. They had to get me on the cold floor before I fainted. The doctor who saw me came by and gave the nurses a chair to put my feet on to get the blood flowing back to my head, and then they gave me cold presses to put behind my neck and my forehead. After about five minutes of that, a nurse brought a wheelchair to get me to a room (that another nurse had given away to another patient), and they had to find another room. They did, and I had to lay there for ten minutes before I could get blood drawn.

I was freezing, btw. Absolutely shivering. Finally the nurse came in, took my blood. She was very nice. I told her that the world wasn't gray anymore, and she worked her best to get the needle into my vein. She said I had extremely small veins, but bless her heart, she didn't hurt me like the other nurse did. After she was finished, she made me lay down for awhile, and then the x-ray technician came in to get me and escort me to x-ray. After that was finished, bless the x-ray technician's heart--SHE got me a blanket.

Then the doctor came in. His demeanor seemed to have changed a bit. He told me that my chest was clear, but my white blood cell count was too high or too low--whichever direction is the bad direction (I just can't remember). He said that I had a virile infection and there was nothing that he could prescribe for me. Just rest, water and Tylenol.

Sooooooooooooooooo -- two hours later, I was back at square one. He did ask me if I was okay to drive home. I felt I was. And when I got home, Dale and Emily were in her room waiting for her to say prayers. I got home in time for that. I hugged Emily's legs ( :) ) and told her that I didn't want to give her my germs. I told Dale the whole story, and he got angry for me. He wants me to write a letter of complaint to Wichita Clinic. I had forgotten about one of the times we took Emily and we told that doctor (different one) that she was allergic to amoxycillin and she prescribed it anyway. We spent $60 on medication that we didn't need. I did take two Tylenol PM last night and slept until 8 a.m. this morning, so I think that helped. I probably will write the letter, but I feel like I need a nap after I've written all of this.


Waiting for the Big Buggers

It's been a hurry up and try to get the classroom situated along with all of the other beginning of the year plans going inbetween meeting after meeting. There's the freshman advisory meeting, the hall-duty meeting, the mentor meeting, the scratch-your-butt meeting ... I think I have my syllabus finished inbetween all of this and some sign-in/sign-out sheets. I think I know what I'm doing the first week of school, but I want to get it down on paper this weekend.

On the workout/fitness front, I am one pound away from having lost 10 pounds this summer. I have 10 to go.



Although my eating was spot on yesterday, my heart just wasn't in it. I spent most of the day worrying (watch those cortisol levels!) about Emily's cough and fever. I got her into the doctor after spending 2-3 weeks with a dry cough that just became worse and three days of low to high fevers. The doctor listened to her lungs, then said that it was probably virile; i.e., bronchoialitis/bronchitis. BUT, I was to immediately call if her temp got up to 101 to 102. About 3:10, it got up to 101.3, and by 4:00, I was back at the doctor's office with getting Emily to X-Ray and lab for chest x-rays and blood drawn. She was a very brave girl when it came to getting a needle stuck in her arm! And when we (myself and the blood people) told her how cool her blood looked, she even giggled a little bit. Plus, she got a really cool red band-aid (that is now ripped off as of this a.m.). We met Dale at home, and I just wasn't in the mood to forage for food, so we went out. When we came home, the doctor had a message for us to call her on the service. She was going to prescribe a medicine. It looked like a little bit of pneumonia in her lower right lung.

It took me a friggin' hour at Wal-Mart to get the medicine, and then of course, the medicine tasted horrible, so it was a fight to get it into Em's gullet. She took it with some probing with some sugar bombs (Dots), and then off to bed.I am happy to say that she has no fever this morning, so the meds seem to be just the trick. I am also happy to report that I was able to not totally blow it on the nutrition plan, nor did I blow it even one little bit. Amazing. Stress did not get me--BwaHaha!