What do you say

On Friday I got a call shortly after I walked in the office that a close friend had taken his own life. I behaved with a complete lack of composure, screaming and crying hyserically. I am assuming completely caught my boss off gaurd (the one who delivered the news), as I assume he probably didn't realize how close I was to the person. I left work, weeping teh whole way on the bus, and got home and just stared at my couch, where he had only sat 2 weeks ago, telling me that he was going through a depression. I had begged him to get help.
So here, two weeks later, I'm staring at the couch and going through all the textbook emotions that everyone tells me I shouldn't feel, but my brain decided it was hardwired to go through, anyways. Guilt. Why didn't I call and check up on him? Why didn't I go through the white pages with him and help him find the help he needed? Why didn't I call his roomate and tell him if he got worse, to check him into a hospital? Was that the only time he was reaching out for help, and I didn't do enough?
I cried some more, drank, and went to a friends house to get my mind as far away from it as possible. I clung to Scott, seeking to reheat something inside of me that felt very, very cold. Toyda, Dad came over, adn in typical counselor fashion, walked me through my emotions and let them validate. He's good like that. My concern turned to his roomate, because he is the one that found...well, yeah, let's just say it wasn't pretty.
I was afraid, I wanted to stay strong in front of him, because I needed to be stronger for someone else...just in case, and in case it made me feel better.
It's weird, although I was close as can be with his now former roomate, B and I have pretty much just kept things tersely professional. But here we were, standing in a restaurant, linked now by the worst we could imagine and huddled together like we had a million times before. He let me see a new emotion, one I hadn't faced yet, but one that I now understand.
Anger. He didn't have to do this, we all kept telling him to get help, that the darkness he felt now was only temporary. But he did, and now we're all left sitting here staring at our laps and pushing food around our plates, confused, hurt, and sickened. Apparently B had forced him to go see a counseling, but he only went to one session. B tried to give him some outlets, and introduce him to different things, but he seemed devoid of forming any passions, and was giving up. I had thought that him pushing aside plans with me was out of being busy at work, but in reality he was just checking out.
I won't call him weak, because we've all had our moments of utter weakness. I won't call him selfish, because that wasn't something he was. But I am angry, nevertheless, that with all of us holding our hands out, he turned away and tore himself from this world. I'm angry that the rest of us are left holding pieces of something we don't understand. I'm angry because our mutual friend, who is always a bright shining and happy little thing was missing that spark in her eye today because she's holding a pit of guilt inside, too. I'm angry because it's two weeks before christmas and so many people that I know are staring into tears dropping into cups of hot cocoa while the first snowfall of the year silently drifts down. I'm angry because B has to be so admirably strong, and I'm proud of him, but want to punch something for him being forced to go through this. I'm angry because everyone's life has bottomed out moments, there are so many pains and anguishes in this world...but those who have even infinitely harder lives dig and find that one little piece that shines and live for that. You have to find that spark and live for that, and I'm angry that he couldn't find that piece. Or maybe I'm angry that someone could've taken it from him, or it burned out, or just wasn't bright enough.
I don't know what I would ever expect someone to think as they read this. I certainly don't want someone thinking, "Oh, poor mama:". Don't. And don't pity the friend who decided to check out before seeing what the world could've made up to him. But, well, I guess if you are reading this and the weather outside is upsetting you, or life is overwhelming and you are thinking that a quick end to your pain is better than enduring, then please read this again. If you know someone who is contemplating an early check out, or has ever talked about it recently, make them read this. And not so they can feel guilty at the hurt someone else feels. If you read this, I want you to put yourself right here, right in this anger, too. I want you to feel not as the person who wants to leave, but as the person next to them that doesn't want you to leave, and would be left here, holding pieces of a life that don't quite make sense now, if you did. It's not about being selfish for putting someone through this, it's about waking up and seeing that this is the result of those actions.

I wish I wasn't right...

For those of you that are a part of my at least monthly if not daily life, you know I've been suffering for about three weeks at the hands of incompetency provided by my dear friends at UW Medical Center. Snce the saga is now coming to a close, and not a pretty one, allow me to finally shed some light as to what the hell as been going on.
Three weeks ago I noticed some discomfort downstairs. Those who know my lovely randomly errupting ovaries of doom history may think they know what's coming, and hey, I did too. I booked a doctor appointment for Monday, and explained that I was concerned one of my ovaries may be ticking down to doomsday again. Over the weekend while I waited for the appointment, I noticed the pain becoming more acute, and well...centered. Not exactly the geography of a cysty-boom, which happens on either the right or left side of the abdomen. So, I go in, get poked and prodded quite uncomfortably, get a lot of fluids removed, and am told "Not a cyst".
"Sooooo...what are we looking at?"
"It's more near your cervix. Ever had Gonorrhea or Clamydia?"
"WHAT?!!"
"Ectopic pregnancy..."
"Dude, I've been with one partner for over two years, and we religiously use condoms AND birthcontrol"
"We'll test you for both anyways"
"Fine, well, I know those are not the culprit, so any other options?"
"Cervical Cancer or Endomytriosis"..................Fuck.
So, this doc sends me down to UW for an ultrasound first thing in the morning, and I call mom to completely freak out. She pops up, takes me to the 'sound, and we start frantically calling my doc for results. The dipshit takes 6 hours to finally get ahold of me (oh, and in the interim, his office gives me 8 different reasons why my calls aren't returned, only to find out that night that he never even came into the damn office and was passing me off onto a nurse. Shoreline Clinic BAD). He's referring me to the Women's Clinic in the U district, which I was right fucking AT during the ultrasound but now missed my window to book an ASAP appointment. I call the hotline in the morning, now the pain is becoming ungodly, and I'm told I have to wait weeks to get in. I start whimpering, and they tell me to go to the ER.
OK, here's where it gets screwed up. By "pain getting worse", it's only during certain times. Namely, when I am...peeing. Granted, I'm moving pretty slow, have added nausea to the symptom roster, and sudden movement/jostling around causes a lot of spikes, but if I hit the toilet I am SCREAMING. But...the doc in shoreline already ran my urine test and there was no urinary tract/bladder infection present. Just a high white blood cell count. So what the hell?
After waiting 5 hours in the UW's emergency waiting room, I am scuttled back into a room, and stripped, non to nicely either. They jam a nedly in my arm to do an IV and blood draw, which promptly breaks and my mom enters the room to see blood shooting out of my arm. Nice, eh? The get it in, I unfortunately have to go through the hell of peeing, and as I hobble to the watercloset aforementioned IV in my arm pops loose and I now start trailing a nice heavy stream of blood down the hallway. I faint, mom freaks, nurses go agro. Yeah, this ER was a great fucking idea. They get it situated, and apparently to make up for it start pumping my IV with dillodin, which is medical term for HappyFloatyFuckYouUp Stuff. They run my fluids through the ringer, poke some more, and STILL have no clue what's causing this. All my tests come back clean, with the exception of my white blood cell count. IE, something's wrong, we just don't know where.
I get my veins pumped with more happy juice, and a couple of antibiotics, and am sent home with a perscription for Oxycodone (yea, it's that bad), Zofran (supposed to help with nausea, but sooooo didn't!), and an antibiotic called Doxy-something. Since they gave me so much dillodin, I was dizzy and apparently not talking quite right, because I was in the damn stratosphere. My landlord had to help mom get me upstairs, because I couldn't figure out which way to move my feet.
The entire next day I slept between pills and projectile vomit episodes. I had to see the docs the next day for a follow up, who were shocked the doxy didn't work, freaked at the accuracy of my vomit aim, and decided to stop all treatment. And so I was SENT HOME. Mind you, I still feel like I'm being stabbed everytime I pee, can barely walk, and can't keep food down, much less even try since my appetite went away. But these bitches decide the best course is to "wait it out". When I ask what to do when the pain gets worse, I'm told directions to that hellhole they call an ER.
So.....yeah...I actually wait almost an entire week before crawling back in there. I pee in more cups, stifle vomit while they try to find my veins for an umpteenth blood draw, and endure another pelvic molestation. They've now decided my "exquisite pain" is centered around my BLADDER (no shit, folks), and give me some more antibiotics that I am promised won't turn me into the hurling Annie Oakley again. And of course, if it gets worse...ya know where the ER is!
God I hate these people. Tests all come back negative, even for signs of kidney stones. Oddly, nobody has bothered doing a catscan. Well, I don't get an answer on that. The 'script does no good, and I finally ask why I am not seeing a urologist if we determined it's not in my reproductive setup. The answer I am given is the most miraculously stupid thing I have ever heard...
"We've decided that because you have such a history of problems in your abdomen (those cysts), you're nerves are damaged and they are just misfiring" I haven't had a damn cyst in two years. WHat the FUCK?!?!
Does that explain the peeing?
No.
GIVE ME A DAMN REFERRAL.
I'd love to say I was immediately referred into the urology clinic of UW, but alas, no. I spent two days going back and forth with those bitches, flat out denying me, or giving me the "we'll get back to you" treatment. I finally get a call saying it went through, call the uro-clinic, and I'm told the next appointment is in November. I start contemplating suicide. "Oh, but you can always go back to the ER..."
So, I decide to go to the ER, but I go to a differnt hospital, because UW is way out of the way from where I live. They do a catscan, find nothing, and upon my explaination of bein a patient from UW, I'm promptly treated like a leper and handed my chart with the warm sentiment to go back to the harpies...oh, and here's some ciodin for pain. Luckily, one of the nurses takes pity on my now frantic missives of"I don't want drugs I want a DIAGNOSIS" and tells me to research my symptoms, and when I go back to the women's clinic to ask for a surgical consult. Apparently Surgical Consult is the magic words for Treat Me MotherFuckers.
So, I jump on WebMD, type in my symptoms, and find something called Interstitial Cystitis that matches all my symptoms to a T...right down to the whole nothing showing up on urinalysis, catscans, etc.
AHA! I scrible down the term, book an appointment, and say very loudly to the nurse "SURGICAL CONSULT", to which she turns pale, scampers away, and get three doctors. They start poking and fluid taking, and one of them says..."I think I know what this is.."
I promptly ask "Have I been tested for Interstitial Cystiphic?" because I forgot how to pronounce it.
But...well, yeah, that's what it is, according to her and a few other head nods. She gently explained that she couldn't do anything, but now earnestly helped me get in with a urologist at Virginia Mason, who I see next week. I left feeling victorious, because I was able to get a damn diagnosis.
The shit part is I didn't bother reading more about this hard to pronounce problem til I got home tonight. I was expecting to read about a pretty pill I get to take for five days and no more peepain. But, well, I really wish I wasn't right this time. Apparently it's a permanent condition, not just a minor annoyance, and I have a few surgeries in my future, a cystoscopy, a cystoscopy hydrodistention, biopsy, and a few other tongue twisters. I'll have to change my diet, and get with a "community" because it's a relatively newly discovered illness, and there's not a whole lot available on it yet. I'll get to have my bladder coated with random crap, and DAMN I wish I wasn't right this time.
Folks, I hate being weak and reaching out, I frankly suck at it, but if you are still reading after this long ass post, please know that Mama..well, she needs a litle love right now. I'm pretty freaked out, not only at the realization of how longterm this is, but about how little is even known about this godforsaken problem. I spent the last three weeks embarrassed as hell about explaining that it hurts when I pee. But now, well, when I'm about to have my bladder friggin disected, it's a little les silly and prety damn unnerving.

Current Irritants

1. Daycares I've been calling saying they refuse to take a special needs child because, due to the fact that they adamantly lump all children by age group together, it would be "unfair" to have a child who is not appropriately moving along with his peers.
2. Finding the toilet seat up in the women's bathroon of my office building. yes, I know it's because the cleaning crew just came through and they are too lazy to lower the damn thing, but for a split second your brain melts in grossness and that's a horrifying moment to greet you in the AM.
3. Not having a car, and finding myself dispondent at my self-imposed hermitude.
4. Bus passes are goddamn expensive, but still not as bad as having to pay 4-fucking-dollars a gallon at the pump.
5. Desperately wanting to take a vacation, a REAL vacation, but not having the money due to the recent paycut, and having a mate who displays zero interest in accompanying me.
6. Cat boxes stink. Why do such adorable creatures have to piss amonia?!
7. A very stubborn kiddo refusing to take his nap, and me feeling like crap for forcing him to take one. But hey, those non-napped afternoon megafits are a gruesome reminder of the worth of the few moments of feeling guilty at hearing him whine.
8. Realizing I've spent the past two years of my life trying to "get a grip on things", and I still feel no where close, often times I feel even further. Like...two years further.
9. Feeling like certain issues in my life are barely hanging on by a thread, but too terrified and tired of talking about it.
10. I don't have to pry open random items with my nails anymore at work but still can't keep my polish from chipping.
11. Knowing I should try to quit smoking again, having a billion reasons to do so, but lacking the willpower.
12. Not having enough damn storage space in this apartment, but I have no idea what all the crap currently filling said space even is.

And the Battle Copntinues

I should know by now that if life seems like it's calming down and falling into place, it's really just a temporary repreive from chaos.
The sitter I hired when I got the DA job quit just two months into it, causing of course the upheaval of attempting to find yet another person to watch kiddo, who is actually even remotely qualified to deal with a child with special needs.
So I think to myself, hey, I'm imbedded in the school district now, what with kiddo in the Developmental program, shouldn't they be able to provide me resources for finding appropriate care? So I pop off a heartfelt email to the psychologist handling kiddos case, explaining that I lost another sitter, and his behavior was the cause, I need help finding a new sitter, and would also like help finding a behavioral counselor to work with us to find some way of handling him for the sitters. Mind you, I'm already tearing my hair out at the conversation this spurned between me and my ex, who feels that discipline should simply consist of threatening kiddo with beatings.
So, after sending off that email asking for helpful resources, you can imagine my shock and utter pissiness of getting back a letter that simply states I need to medicate my child. No resources, no list of childcare providers, not even a damn book recommendation, just "I recommend trial medications".
What. The. FUCK.
So, mamas and papas, and general friends who read this blog, once again you shall see the ferocious MotherHoodlum strap on a sheild and sword, and do battle with the great beast of stupidity.
I've asked my pediatrician to link me to UW's behavioral folks, who will give me a full evaluation. I've stated to them ahead of time medication is not on the damn table, especially considering he doesn't have a behavioral issue diagnosed. ANd today I get to go meet with aforementioned psychologist, whom I will promptly be explaining that I am REMOVING my son from their ridiculous care, because that was just the most retarded fucking thing anyone could have told me.

Settling in

Well, I guess I got to cash in a bit of good karma, because I've been officially working as a DA for one week now and LOVE it. This last weekend was my first real weekend off, and I honestly didn't know what to do with myself! But I can already see the immediate benefits for kiddo, I got to spend the weekend with him stress free, and I've been home earlier on the weekdays, so he actually gets to spend quality time with me then, too.He's happy, I'm happy, and my new boss is positively ecstatic to have me there, which makes my job actually mean something!
My 2nd anniversary with Scott is around the corner, too. I can't say it's weird that we've lasted so long, because it still doesn't feel like it's been any time at all. About the only difference from last year is that yes, we do actually get into the ocassional tiff. But, hey, we're a couple, and that's pretty dang normal. We seem to work through it well, and that's the important part, right?
Well, I'm about to pour some java in my go-cup and, well, go. Just wanted to let the planet know I didn't fall off!

New Year, New Beginnings

Ok, so yes it's been forever since I updated! Granted, most of you understand the hell that is being a retail worker on the holidays. Christ, this one I barely had enough time to blink, let alone do anything else! I was so bummed that the Wii I got for my birthday was beginning to acquier a thin layer of dust.
As a "senior manager" (even though I didnn't actually have the tenure to be called that), I was running around helping rookie managers, providing a few district helps, and of course, attempting to run a hot streak in my store. I succeeded, and collected a nice fat bonus a month ago which landed right in the middle of our vacation to Whistler.
Which was interrupted three times by my work.
So, I came back, and of course pressure at work didn't let up. I had hoped to see my stress level decrease with the close of our holiday season, only to find myself having panic attacks due to mounting pressures at work. Sell phones! Why hasn't this employee sold a phone?! You haven't sold enough phones! Your store is running a loss according to your increased plan numbers...because you aren't selling phones! SELL A DAMN PHONE!!!!!!!
I had promised myself that this year, work wouldn't kill my personal life needs, and promptly scheduled the re-evaluation of kiddo. For those in the know, my son has a developmental disorder, that up until a few weeks ago, we were assuming was autism. After a team of hand-talk-happy child psychologists and developmental therapists invaded my home, we are now told he has a severe Developmental Delay. Apparently, that's actually a diagnosis. Anthony is going to need to be in a developmental workshop four days a week, starting ASAP. The district will provide transportation, as long as his daycare is within their boundaries. And I need to be spending more time with him, as parental support is critical at this phase (which, technically, it should be at every step of my child's life).
So, suddenly I am faced with the glaring fact that I need to change occupations. Within a month.
No more talking about leaving the Shack, it has to be done NOW. I had a long talk with my boss about the situation, and I even got teary. See, I still love what I do, even though I don't always enjoy the psychotic amount of pressure I'm under while doing it. I love my nerdy Radioshack life, and the people I work with are amazing (most of 'em, anyways). He proposed that I take the admin job that opened up in the district below us, and I am going to talk to that DM this morning. It would be the best of both worlds, an administrative and low pressure gig, but with the company I take so much pride in. If the new DM can handle my scheduling needs, I may just have landed the ideal situation.
The reality of a "normal" job sank in last night, and I was so tickled I could hardly sit still.
No more late night phone calls, or having family time interrupted by freaked out employee phone calls.
No more 3 am inventories.
No more putting off vacations because I don't have staff to cover the store.
No more crying on the bus home because we didn't make the sales quota.
No more 78 hour workweeks.
I'll be able to actually have a NORMAL holiday season.
Not spend Thanksgiving day as a day of weary preparation.
Sleep in on Saturdays.
Snuggle with Scott on a Saturday afternoon.
Go Christmas shopping like a normal human.
Have a social life.
Be able to actually MAKE plans on a friday.
Normalcy is an incredible concept when all it has been for the last three years is a "concept".
We'll see!!!!