Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Fixing a heart problem requires drinking more water.

I went back and forth about whether or not sharing a certain story was too up close and personal for this blog. I’ve decided to do it.

A few weeks ago I went to the doctor because I was experiencing some freaky dizziness that wasn’t okay. I obviously self-diagnosed myself and decided I had an inner ear problem that was causing this dizziness. I told people I had vertigo because when you Google the symptoms of a condition and you have two of those eight symptoms, you clearly have that condition (*you don’t have narcolepsy, OverSharer). It turns out my doctor thought it was a heart problem, not an inner ear problem. Umm, ok…

He wanted me to wear a holter monitor for 24 hours. For those of you who don’t know what a holter monitor is, Google an image of one. When your laughter subsides, continue reading. But people get holter monitors put on all.the.time, so I was like whatevs. However, Doc wanted me to wear it while I was working and drinking “excessive amounts of coffee”. I didn’t necessarily want my customers to think I was dying by having this contraption hooked up to me, and dying they would think since the sticky pads were the size of my hand and the top one was stuck to my chest, way above where my shirt was. Very, clearly visible. So I turtlenecked it to hide them and worked my shift, drinking “excessive amounts of coffee”. I also kept a “log” of activity and symptoms during this time. Go to washroom…no symptoms. Sitting down…dizzy. Lifting multiple milk jugs…mild dizziness. Sleeping…unsure?

I took the term excessive seriously. A beyond normal excessive amount of coffee was drunk, and I still, today, can’t have iced coffee. And iced coffee was my FAVORITE. I worked it out and over the course of the 24 hours I drank the equivalent of probably about 14 cups of coffee. Maybe that’s normal for others, but for me that’s ex.ces.sive.

Two weeks later Doc calls me and wants me to make an appointment. Well, I’ve worked in a doctor’s office, and I know they only call when it’s bad news bears. Great. Doc’s exact words at the appointment:

“Well, it’s not good.”


“I want to do further testing.”


“A 24-hour urine test.”

HAHAHA! Of COURSE he wants another 24-hour test. And of COURSE it has to involve urine. For those of you who don’t know what this test entails, well, let’s just say I pee into a jug over a 24-hour period. That’s classy. I’m classy.

Doc tells me he wants to rule out *insert big, giant medical word here*. Then tells me to Google it to read up on it. Well a) if you’re ruling it out, why do I need to know about it? Shouldn’t I read up on it if it’s something I actually have? And b) why are you telling me to Google it?! He, of all people, should know what a neurotic hypochondriac I am! So, of course, I Google it.  Doctor’s orders.

“A rare adrenal gland tumor”.

Perfect. *calls Momma in tears*

Momma’s advice: drink more water.


My interpretation of this advice through hysterics: drink multiple cups of water throughout the next three days.

I am now beginning to despise water. Unfortunate, since we used to be very close friends, water and I.

Upon further conversing, Momma is convinced it really is a heart problem (not my self-diagnosed burst eardrum that has been causing my dizziness and will inevitably cause permanent deafness), and that I’m fine. Last time I checked a heart was pretty important, but I trust everything most things she says, so I guess I’m fine?*

So I’ll keep y’all posted on my little situation. But let’s all be honest here; nothing ever just comes easy to me, so this little situation will be resolved a long time from now. I’ve already prepared myself for this. In the meantime, if you see someone carrying a jug around that’s partially filled with a liquid, that’s me. And it’s not apple juice.

*I know I actually probably am fine. But only my 24-hour urine test will tell.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Would I be more devastated if my car was stolen or my tanning lotion?

As I was getting ready today I thought about this blog. I thought about how I've continued to neglect it, despite my promises to do so no longer. I thought about how tonight I was going to have access to internet and probably not have much to do*, so I should make an attempt to visit this blog. Then I thought about what I would post about. While all this thinking was happening, I didn't mean for it to be a reason for something so unexpected, annoying, expensive, yet completely "blog-worthy" to happen. But just wait a second...this is MY life we're talking about. What happened is the reason I started this blog in the first place. A log, if you will, of events that make me raise my eyebrows, sigh, laugh it off, and move forward.

Maybe my car isn't meant to contain any glass? Maybe there should be shatterproof glass that cars are made with? And if there already is, maybe I should have been notified of this and ensured that all the glass that my car is comprised of has it. Or, maybe people should raise their children to not be so irresponsible and inconsiderate so they don't think that chucking things off an overpass bridge onto the cars below, causing shattered windows, is the best thing they could come up with to do on a Saturday afternoon.

I was confused as to how something could hit my rear window while I was driving on the highway. Perhaps something flew over my car, and landed on it, causing it to shatter, crackle, and eventually cave in, leaving shards of glass all over the backseat? No, no, apparently standing on an overpass and throwing heavy objects down onto the cars below is actually something that people do. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?! Why is this okay? And why are these people getting away with this? No, I didn't call the police. Until I actually got to my destination I didn't think this is what happened, because I didn't think people did this. I'm way too trusting of people. My sister's neighbor tells me he used to do this when he was younger. Thanks for sharing? It made me feel better, that's for sure.

I back my car into one of the parking stalls so the gaping hole in my window is facing a fence with bushes, and not the street where it would be an invitation to take whatever you want out of the car. I put my club on the steering wheel, JUST IN CASE, gather everything of value (read: my iPod, insurance papers, and tanning lotion), and take it with me into the house. And then I wonder what exactly I'm going to do for the next 48 hours.

I now have a car that I feel I shouldn't drive anywhere, only because I don't feel like shielding my face from the chunks of glass that would be flying everywhere while the car's moving. I'm not anywhere near home. There aren't any glass repair shops open on the weekends (I guess these things only happen Monday-Friday, 9 am-5 pm). And I work at 5 am on Monday morning. Umm, ok...ohhhhh, I see, this is one of those tests where I need to think outside the box...well, this happened six hours ago and I still don't really have any ideas.

When it happened I raised my eyebrows. Then I saw the damage and sighed because I shouldn't be surprised. Then I shut my car door, more glass fell in, and I laughed because I remembered who I am. Then I thought about the so-much-worse things that are surely happening to other people and moved forward. This sucks, and it's the most inconvenient thing that could happen, but it could have been so much worse. And so much worse things are happening right now to other people, so I'm not really justified in crying over my spilled milk. However, if you see me hitchiking (I'll be the one with...nothing. I don't even carry a purse anymore), please have mercy. Don't throw rocks at me with expectations of me shattering like my window. Maybe give me a ride? I'm not bad luck, I promise.

Silver lining of this? At least it's not raining.

*This is slightly laughable, since tonight I'm babysitting my two year old nephew.