medical

Sarah and the No Good, Horrible, Very Bad Day…er Week

/ Sarah / 1 Comment

I’ve never seen this movie, the one whose title I’ve blatantly stolen for this post.

I don’t care to ever see this movie.

I believe I have lived this movie. It was Tuesday of this week. Who am I kidding. It was all of last week, but Tuesday was especially horrible.

It’s never a good day when I wake up before my alarm. On Tuesday I woke up 45 mins before my alarm. And there was no going back to sleep because my annoying brain had already started itemizing the day’s events. Not a good sign. This was compounded by the throbbing in my left arm, because apparently I’ve developed tendonitis in my elbow and it hurts before I’ve even begun to move. Because, why not!?

Attempting to thwart my feelings of foreboding, I decide to assemble my smoothy as I make my breakfast, to ensure I would leave the house in good time. Moments later the blender is filled with fruit flies, and regardless of how many times I tried to remove them, finding them back-stroking through my almond milk was the limit for me and the entire mix was dumped.

I was late leaving as I reassembled the smoothy.

The computer at work, with which I have an rocky relationship at best, decided to pull work-to-rule action. Progress was at a snail’s pace. Because of the aforementioned fruit fly incident, I forgot to take my allergy medication, and I was completely and totally congested by 10 a.m.

With a work meeting scheduled for 2 p.m., I set up the meeting area, including the projection equipment. This involves a mobile screen on a tripod that I’m pretty sure was used for the first talkies. Just as I’m putting the final adjustments on the screen, the retractable screen does just that, and when it fully and completely recoils into the mustard yellow casing, said casing flips upward on one end from the force, and clocks me in the right temple. I saw several constellations and am still amazed that I did not use “language”. I likely had a feeling that I was being watched, which I was. A gentleman from another office witnessed the assault on my person and rushed to my aid.  As a gentleman would, he offers assistance, asks if I’m ok and demonstrates a suitable amount of concern for what he just observed. As an idiot would, I told him I was FINE, that I was sorry I caused him concern and that this stupid projection screen was not long for this world. With a quizzical expression, he asked again. Are you SURE you are OK? With as much grace as I could muster, given that the impact nearly dropped me to my knees, I wave him off and assure him, no harm, no foul. His face says it all; Sarah’s a nut job. Well, my friend, you’re not the first to think that, and I’m pretty sure the club will extend membership to you.

Moments later, when the initial sensation wears off, it is replaced with a new, stinging, sharp sensation. When that lingers, I decide to head to the bathroom, where I see blood running down my face – the start of which the gentleman would have observed and explains his disbelief at my demeanour. NUT. JOB.

An impromptu clean up job leaves my face swollen, lacerated and missing a significant amount of make up on the right side of my profile. The meeting I’m hosting is in 30 minutes. I have no makeup at work. I decide then and there, that we are going to run this situation, and not let it run us! Two hours later, at the end of the meeting, and with my face nicely inflamed and swollen on one side, I can’t take the sidelong glances any more and flat out own what happened.

“Whew, I’m glad you said something,” said my colleague, “because I wasn’t sure what was going on there!”

Well my friend, what was going on here on Tuesday is just a string of what has been happening, known more affectionally as The Shit Show. Perhaps you think I’m exaggerating. Adding a little flair to the story, some “Artistic Licence”? Oh gentle reader, if that were only the case.

After some therapy on said elbow, and waking up the next day feeling better than I had in a week, I bounce the elbow off a corner in the hallway and hit it so hard that I’m afraid of travelling bone chips. Back to square one. The only way I’m sleeping now is if it’s on my right side. And if I could stop have disturbing dreams…but we’ll leave those for the therapist I’m draining my kids’ education fund for.

Then this happens….

I can't make this stuff up!

I can’t make this stuff up!

I’m the centre vehicle. To clarify, this is NOT parallel parking. This is a PARKING LOT. I’ve just been blocked. Ironically, in an effort to change my karma, when I saw another vehicle about to block the vehicle beside me (after doing a 24 point extraction of my own vehicle) I called out to the driver – very nicely I might add, to advise him of the honest mistake he was about to make. He thanked me for my efforts by giving me the sharp edge of his tongue and slamming back into his car.

Oh, and I should also mention that the week before, my work vehicle died most unexpectedly, in a remote location, on one of the hottest days of the summer. The cause of this malfunction was so random that even the mechanic shook his head.

Loooong story short, stay away from me unless you have bulk bubble wrap. And just think, Mercury Retrograde starts TODAY! Not sure what Mercury Retrograde is? Basically everything I’ve described. I’m locking myself in my room now, because I’m certain I’m a danger to myself!!

 

A New Four Letter Word that is Six Letters Long

/ Sarah / 4 Comments

There is a new swear word in our house.

G.L.U.T.E.N.

For the past few months, The Big Guy has noticed a bit of a pattern in his health and well being. Due to a suggestion from a work colleague, he decided to go off bread, specifically for the gluten component. He had an immediate response. In a positive way!

So we expanded on the experiment. Ironically, our nephew is gluten intolerant, but we didn’t really understand what that meant. A couple hours of online research gave us a crash course. Firstly, gluten is the glue of human food. IT. IS. EVERYWHERE!!! I challenge you to find a bread, cracker, cereal, or dessert that doesn’t have gluten in it.  And if you do, please let me know what it is. Unfortunately, The Big Guy is a Big Lover of all things bread. And cake. And crackers with a smear of cheese. And bread. Did I mention bread? He used to rate Stag and Does based on the “quality” of the kaiser buns and handmade sandwiches he would make with them.

Big bread fan.

However, if that weren’t enough, gluten is in sauces (salad dressings, Worchestshire sauce, marinades and bbq sauce), snack foods (granola bars, pretzels) and pasta (KD?!?!?). This has not only rocked his lunch box, but is has kicked the crap out of my meal planning regimen. I’m not even going to discuss now long it now takes me to find my way through the grocery store, reading the labels on every single product!!

This introduced me to a whole new division of the grocery store – specialty foods! Mind you, I only have a limited selection in the area I living in, so now I’m keeping an eye out at just about every major grocery and bulk food store.

I started with these;

2013-05-04 13.53.11

The muffin mix was $4 and change. They went over well.

The cake mix was $5. It was not. Imagine the delicious smell of brownie, followed by the the most dried out, tasteless brownie you have ever had the misfortune of eating. It was worse that that. Yum.

Along with these purchases, I invested in white rice flour, brown rice flour and tapioca flour. And a cookbook. Then I looked into a line of credit to afford this….

2013-05-04 14.46.19

 

This pasta better cook itself, cuz it put me back $10. I now understand why my nephew claims to be the poorest student on campus. While his peers live on spaghetti and other cheap pastas, he’s paying almost as much in rent as he is for his weekly food bill!

Ironically, this past weekend my Dad found this –

2013-05-04 14.46.55

…which apparently I’m going to have to drag The Big Guy to, if for no other reason, than I can learn how to cook for him again!

Until then, I expect A LOT more swearing.

 

The “Easy” Way Out?

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

Today is Samson’s birthday.

In a couple of weeks, it will be a year since we put him down.  This random combination of thoughts came to me last week when a certain new item caught my eye.

Gloria Taylor is a British Columbian woman who lives with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease). She was the face of five plaintiffs who went to the Supreme Court to strike down the ban on assisted suicide in that province. The grounds were that the ban discriminated against the disabled because, get this, they cannot commit suicide on their own.

The argument was that an able-bodied individual could end their own life without assistance. For those dealing with terminal conditions, there comes a point in time when this is no longer an option. It’s usually at this later stage that the idea of suicide is much more appealing than the years, months, weeks, days, the individual has left as a prisoner of their own bodies.

Now I toyed with the idea of not writing this column, simply because it falls under one of those contentious issues, like abortion, religion and hockey. But I feel strongly about this myself and to be honest, I was excited when I heard the news.

When Samson was suffering, we could tell. It was as obvious as if he could verbalize the pain he was in. Most people would say they would not allow an animal to suffer, they would have the “put to sleep.”

I have watched loved ones die. I have heard some of them wish for death to come. I have heard of people whose family members have asked them to help them bring their end to them. How is ok for a dog to be euthanized, but I couldn’t do it for a family member?

To be fair, there are differences between euthanasia and assisted suicide.

1. Euthanasia –

: the act or practice of killing or permitting the death of hopelessly sick or injured

individuals (as persons or domestic animals) in a relatively painless way for

reasons of mercy. The word is Greek and means “easy death.”

<PAUSE>

This can be a simple as someone withholding care or taking part

in the act of ending someone’s life. Notice how people and animals are lumped

together?

<PLAY>

2. Assisted Suicide –

: suicide committed by someone with assistance from another person;

especially : physician-assisted suicide

<PAUSE>

This is a specific plan where a doctor provides the means for a person to administer

drugs or an act that will allow the individual to end their own life. Something

they could not otherwise do on their own.

<PLAY>

Thank you Merriam-Webster.

Immediately the battle cries were out for an appeal of this decision.

How can we allow these people who have suffered so much the “easy” way out???

Well I’ve got a thought for you. If you are saying the Court will not allow

anyone to take part in an action that will result in the death of another person, then they better get a lot more vigilant about methamphetamine dealers and producers, because THAT, my friend, is how a lot more people are going to die at the hand of another person.

It’s not like I don’t have a grasp on the concept of suicide. It has come close enough to me to know that there are times when I can see it is not the right option. There is pain and suffering for the family members left behind. But when we are looking at cases like this, how can it be a bad thing? Instead of an indefinite period of time where your family stands vigil for you, watches you waste away, is forced to have their last memories of you be tainted by the ravages of the disease that will ultimately claim you, you can have your time, prepare and allow a more humane procedure take place. Less drugs. Less hospital time. Less drama. Less trauma.

This topic first came to light in a big way back in 1992 when Sue Rodriguez, also suffering from ALS and living in Victoria, B.C., challenged the ban. She was denied the right to an assisted suicide, but in 1994, she was successful in finding an anonymous doctor who would help and she was given her assisted suicide that year.

“If I cannot give consent to my own death, whose body is this? Who owns my life?” she asked. (cbc.com June 15, 2012)

Indeed. Who?

Letters That Need to Be Written – Part III

/ Sarah / 3 Comments

Dear Ashley Kirilow, Dina Perouty-Leone, Keele Maynor, Jessica Vega, Christopher Gordon and Jessica Leeder,

I would like to say you are isolated outcasts of society; that you are loathsome examples of humanity. But the sad fact is, when I type in “cancer patient hoax” you are but six of more than 6.2 MILLION possible internet hits.

I wish I had the vocabulary to effectively articulate, without resorting to profanity, the disgust I feel. Between you, you have duped friends, family, spouses, and kind-hearted individuals, many of whom sympathized with you because they themselves have had Cancer touch their lives.

Repulsive.

What kind of self-centred egomaniac looks to draw attention to themselves in this way? Do you honestly feel the love and support given to someone battling Cancer is something to envy? Covet? You can’t accomplish something positive with the health you are blessed with?

Obscene.

You have used the title of leukaemia, stomach cancer or breast cancer, to justify your crimes. You have lied through word and deed. You played on the heart strings of good people. One of you even convinced your boyfriend you were dying to get him to marry you. Flowers were donated, the wedding was paid for by family and friends. Your honeymoon was free.

Evil.

Back in the day, charlatans travelled from town to town, duping innocents into buying miracle cures and snake water. They would take money and flee, leaving their victims disillusioned and poorer. You are no better. In fact, you are a couple of rungs lower on the ladder, because you actually feel you can pass yourselves off as victims.

Reprehensible.

Aside from the vitriol you so richly deserve from the media exposure that has now turned on you, I hope you are haunted for the rest of you life by the images of truly sick people. Cancer has a legacy of pain and loss for those left behind.

You deserve no better.