Old Dog, New Tricks

I started a new nearly full-time job about 5 weeks ago. It has been a very crazy five weeks. On the same day I got the job offer and a book contract. Both of which required a lot of time and focus for me. I hit the ground running with my new job, and within five days of being hired put on my first big event for them. You know how when you start a new job there is a little bit of lag time and slow periods while you ramp up and learn your new position? There has been none of that with this job. Instead, every day I get asked if I'm overwhelmed (yet), and how I'm coping. I admit, I much prefer jumping in head first like this, rather than weeks of boredom. 

I get home from work, walk the dog, and immediately jump into some big huge project. Whether it's writing my own book ("When Books Fly" - which is now finished), editing a client's book, or keeping up with the never-ending duties of being the young women's president. Every single day of the last five weeks has been an exhausting marathon. 

(And I love it.) 

I passed a kidney stone (for the zillionth time) last week. My new local doctor gave me Percoset. I truly hate taking Percoset. I'd much rather take Lortab. Percoset makes me hallucinate, nauseates me, and more. I really hate the stuff. But I have to admit, taking it meant being forced to slow down and take things easy for two days. (While I mostly stared at the wall and had bizarre hallucinations about chicken and duck eggs. Don't ask. The hallucinations never make sense, but I always remember them later. Wish I didn't. This time I was afraid my car was going to get filled up with eggs. Which is slightly better than the time I hallucinated that the doctors from MASH were trying to operate on me and take my kidneys from me. It wasn't pleasant.) But I digress. 

Being back in an office, juggling clients, and managing teenage girls and their mothers, has been an all-new experience for me. I'm learning to work with personalities, keep my cool, and not give sarcastic answers in a way I've never had to control myself before. It's good for me, I think. I'm really having to focus and make an effort to be kind, polite, and yet a strong leader, without resorting to being sarcastic and flippant. Which is all to say, apparently you can teach an old dog new tricks. 

"Friends" vs Real Life and Friends

I haven't blogged much lately (well, for the better part of the past year I suppose) because I've lost interest in talking about my private life so publicly, and I write more on my Author Page on Facebook now.
But lately I have felt like writing a few things, so maybe the blog will rise again.
Or not.
This week was very unusual for me as I had kidney stone surgery (sort of). A few weeks ago, right after our family cruise, I thought I had severe back pain. And I probably did have actual, regular back pain (from traveling and riding a horse in Mexico with the worst saddle I've ever seen). The back pain was bad enough that I didn't recognize the symptoms of kidney stones until it was too late. I was in so much pain I decided to go to the E.R., which required either an ambulance or a friend to take me, as I was in no condition to drive. I texted everyone I could think of who wouldn't be at work at that time, and found one wonderful friend to take me. Even as I waited for her to pick me up, I debated calling an ambulance. But ultimately didn't take an ambulance because I was worried I wouldn't be able to get to the door fast enough to let them in.
These are the real problems of being single and living alone. How to keep from dying alone in your own home because there was no one else around to open the door for you. As it was, it took me nearly 30 minutes to slowly move across my bed to reach my phone to call for help.
I've been watching "Friends" a lot on Netflix for the past few weeks. (Being bedridden from kidney stones and then the surgery will do that to you.) Sure it's a sitcom and far from reality. But I think sometimes all these silly TV shows that glamorize single life do a huge disservice to actual singles. Life isn't like it is on "Friends" where everyone is buddies with the cute guys/girls across the hall, and everyone comes and goes and eats each other's food. I don't know my neighbors' names. Believe me, as I was sobbing in pain, praying for a miracle that someone, somehow would know that I was in need of help at that moment, I wracked my memory trying to think of a neighbor's name I could yell out to get help. But the truth is, I could probably recognize one guy who lives on my floor, but I've never asked his name. But of the other 2 apartments, and presumably 5 other adults who live here, I have no idea what they look like, or what their names are. (I don't even really know that 5 people live on this floor.)
And it has always been like this. I never know my neighbors or anything about them. They are just people who could afford the same amount of rent I can, and need to live in the same area. We have nothing else in common. We don't even speak the same language.
On "Friends" they do everything together. They hang out in the coffee shop. They spend holidays together. They go on vacations together. Again, sure, it's a sitcom, and it's all fiction. But the truth is, when I want to go see a movie, and invite friends, it takes a week's notice, and 50 text messages for all of us to agree on something.
I had little to no expectations for my friends to be able to drop everything and come assist me after my surgery this week. I have been grateful for the few friends who have made the time and effort to come over and help me out. (I really was bedridden all of Tuesday and Wednesday. Today I was able to shower on my own, and I think by the end of the day I will be able to walk my dog.) I know my friends love me and would help me if they could. But the truth is that life is nothing like it is on TV. Friends can't make time sacrifices like that to always be there for you. When you are single, your job is to look out for yourself. You don't have the luxury of assuming other people will be able to help you out.
Part of me finds this all a bit ironic and funny. Because I definitely get the impression from non-singles, that they assume that since I have no family to tend to, that when they need help, I should be able to drop everything and be there for them. (And I often do.) But when a single person needs help, it can be far more difficult to find someone to give the help.
I'm grateful for the system my church has in place to provide help and compassionate service when needed. Yesterday a woman from my congregation that I didn't know showed up with dinner for me, and took my dog out for a big walk. (The dog came home one very happy pooch, which is good, because help isn't coming to walk her for a few more hours today.) She didn't know me. She just knew I needed help because of our compassionate service system. Next week she is having surgery, and I've signed up to repay the favor by assisting her. (Although there is no expectation that I should do so. I did it because I want to.)
If it weren't for the compassionate service through the church I don't know how I would get by this week. I know my mother wishes she could be here. And my sister has offered to come help me (but she lives over an hour away without traffic, and has a full-time job, plus goes to college at night, so it's hard for us to work it out).
Single life is not what it ever appears to be like on TV or in movies. Singles aren't a codependent happy bunch of people who do everything together. They are floating, independent ships, looking for a comfortable place to anchor and find reserves and supplies.
As for the rest of my story and situation, I did have surgery on my kidneys on Tuesday. I'm recovering as well as can be expected. I have high hopes that tomorrow I can leave the house (for a job interview). I also have high hopes that I will be able to sleep for more than 3 hours before the painkillers wear off and the pain wakes me back up. Sleep would really make me happy right about now. I do expect to return to regular life by Monday. We haven't completely solved the mystery of my kidneys yet, and that situation is far from over. I expect there will be another surgery next month, but I'm going to push that off for as long as possible. I have no desire to "recover" from another procedure for a good long time. 

I like my Baby Ducks

Honestly, I have no idea what they were doing

The past 3 weeks have been a bit of a black hole for me. Passing a kidney stone(s) is not a pleasant experience, but there were a few life lessons learned along the way, and a few bright spots.

The pain began on a Friday evening right as several my darling "Baby Ducks" arrived for our semi-annual slumber party. Both the girls and I look forward to our party for months. We watch a movie, dance, eat, giggle, etc. I throw a big air mattress or two on the floor in the family room, and we sleep "girls camp style" all over the place.

Minutes after the girls arrived I started to hurt. I tried to shake it off, but as the night went on, I felt worse and worse. The girls had taken to YouTube to teach themselves new dances. Normally I would get up and dance with them. It's a lot of fun! But instead I found myself screaming out in pain once or twice, and lying on the mattress, trying to act like it was no big deal. The girls were on to me, but we all pretended it wasn't that bad.

I was impressed with how much the girls were concerned about me, and with how well they handled things (didn't sit around waiting for me to make the fun happen, but just did it themselves) when I was incapacitated.

Fast forward a week. I arrived at church with the intention of actually staying. I thought I had managed my pain meds and could handle it. After about 40 minutes I was fighting back tears from the pain. (I cry a lot on pain meds. I'm a huge baby.) After the first block was done, the girl ran up to hug me, but they all carefully stopped to make sure I was okay first. I was again impressed with the fact that they even remembered/knew I was still sick, and that they didn't want to hurt me.

A few days later I saw the specialist who determined the STONES HAVE PASSED!! YEAH ME!!! But as tends to happen, I have a lingering side effect/complication, and the test needed to rule out option a from option b was a mere $2,700 out of pocket. Yep, nope, not going to happen. Not ever. So we had to move to plan b, and as the doctor explained to me, "The next 24 hours will probably be the worst of your life." It meant going off the painkillers cold turkey, so that I could "feel" what is going on better. Did you know if you have been on painkillers round the clock for a few weeks that it HURTS LIKE HELL to go off of them?

It's true. It hurts. Suddenly every single freaking thing in your body hurts. My knees, my hips, elbows, and for a few hours I swear each of my fingers ALL HURT. Not to mention the headache, muscles, etc. But the good news was that my kidney was not (yet) hurting.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. For the first few hours after the specialist appointment I felt fine. A little sore, but fine. Late in the afternoon I started to hurt. By evening I HURT A LOT. And that's when I remembered the YW were coming to my house for activity night. BIG UH OH. I pulled a minimum of things together for the girls to do in record time. When they arrived, I explained to them that my stone had passed, but I still felt bad.

They took it like champs. I sat on the couch (and sometimes lied on the couch) and just let them do the activity on their own. I could barely think straight from the pain, and did a terrible job of "being a leader." But the girls were awesome- again. They were very gentle and nice to me, and just did a great job of taking care of themselves. I was really proud of them.

(Later that night, around 11 pm, I passed another kidney stone- DRUG FREE! You know what isn't fun? What just might kill you? What might be the worst experience of your entire life? Yeah, passing a stone without any drugs in you. The only good part about that awful, miserable experience was that I could actually tell when it passed.)

By Saturday night (last night), I was suffering from 3 weeks of terrible cabin fever. I had to get out. Even though it was not my night to chaperone, I got a call from my cousin/college roommate/BFF saying she was at a youth activity, and I should feel free to go join her. So I did.

Again, my girls are awesome. Each time they saw me they ran up and gave me a hug, but not without stopping to make sure it was "safe to touch me." They surprised me with how happy they were that I was mobile again. Normally I get out and dance a lot of the songs with them, but I wasn't quite up to the task yet. (Give me another week!) Again, they were compassionate and sweet about making sure I was okay.

Today at church the same scene repeated itself. My Baby Ducks all gave me hugs, but first checked to make sure I was okay.

Sometimes teenagers are impossible. Sometimes they will drive you absolutely batty. Sometimes you want to take their phones away one by one and throw them off a cliff. Sometimes you are pretty sure they are all insane. But then, sometimes, when you least expect it, one will come up and put her head on your shoulder, and say, "I'm so glad you are feeling better. I missed doing this."

(Six months to girls camp and another Baby Ducks adventure!)
(And if history repeats itself- 5 more years till the next bout of kidney stones!)

The Case of the Missing Jeans

I can't find my favorite jeans anywhere. I've looked in all logical, and a few illogical, places. 

This is a little disturbing. 

Here's the thing, I've been passing a kidney stone for the past 11 days. (Lucky me.) I'm taking a couple types of painkillers- the kind that make you sleepy, dizzy, loopy, and downright stupid.  I have no fear on these medications. I will say or do just about anything. (I may or may not have broken out in song and dance in a store- twice- last week.)

So this has me a little concerned. 

Where are my jeans?

I wear them more often than not. I wear them several times a week. I don't lose these jeans- if they aren't on my butt, they are usually in a pile on the floor of my bathroom or bedroom. They don't go far! 

So where are they?

Where and what was I doing when I took off my jeans last? If it wasn't my bedroom, the bathroom, or the laundry room, where was I when I took my pants off??

Describes my life all too well right now!

Kidney Stones, Percocet, Stoned Thoughts and Happy Thoughts

I am discovering that I do very strange things when I'm stoned. I have been on Percocet for 4 days now. And woah. The hallucinations are insane. The dreams (where I don't really know I'm asleep which is ever more disturbing) are over the top bizarre. Oh, and I have total blackouts where I have no recollection of phone calls or text messages my phone says I have sent. Not good.

For example-
1. There was the dream where I was trying to dig through a public trash can trying to find some new clothes. And then once I found them, Sweet Pea and I went to the backyard of the Church and watched dogs hump.

2. I stood over the kitchen sink for several minutes absolutely convinced I had lost the soup in the sink. (the can was on the table)

3. There are 4 outgoing calls on my phone I have no recollection of making.

4. I forgot how to scramble eggs and vaguely recall considering scrambling them in the frying pan with my finger. I woke up as I washed my hands prior to the scrambling. The eggs were burning.

5. Never try to watch "the Matrix" while stoned and confused on narcotics. It gets very weird.

6. I can't tell if I bought a $50 toy online. I remember very vaguely looking at it and thinking about it. And then falling asleep. But when I woke back up the computer was on the check out screen. I haven't received an email saying I bought it. But who knows what email address I would have put in? And what mailing address I gave it??

The happy thought in all of this is that I think Horatio (my kidney stone's name) just might leave me tonight. And compared to what I've seen other people go through with stones, I don't think mine hurts all that bad. It sucks and I am in pain. But I'm not in horrific pain and I have Percocet. And for that, I am very grateful.