Sunday, April 22, 2012

Watch as I rationalize buying more junk food

It's not a fat pad! It's just a cyst on the lining of my heart!  *whew*

That sounds like sarcasm, but I'm serious that it's a relief.  "Pericardial cyst" sounds scary, but it's not.  The cyst doesn't do anything but sit there being cyst-y.  Apparently, I was born with it.  I'm just defective.  No surprises there. When I told my mom about it, she of course said (only half joking), "Great, another way that I failed you as a mother."  My mom thinks it's her fault that I have all of the very minor but still annoying health problems that I do. Since many of them have a genetic component, I guess she's not wrong.  But it's not like she did it on purpose. 

And frankly, I'm just happy that I don't have a fat pad because I think that means I can feel free to continue  eating massive amounts of peanut butter.  And marshmallows.

You guys, seriously, crunchy peanut butter and melted marshmallows?  So good.  I know, you're thinking, 'Better than creamy peanut butter?'  Yes, trust me, much better.

Anyway, I found out about the cyst last Friday around 5 p.m., and then I woke up Saturday with the cold that had been going around my office. Naturally.  I dragged myself into work on Monday because we had a new person starting in our department and for some reason it was VERY IMPORTANT to me that I be there to show her where the parking garage was.  I mean, she was grateful because it's really confusing to find the garage, your spot in the garage, and how to get to our building from there (it involves going through a loading dock by the city jail) (well, one of the city jails).  But it's not like she couldn't find it on her own.  Probably.  She's an adult. 

But I just kept thinking about how nervous you get on your first day of a new job, and I pictured how I would feel if I were in her position.  And I remembered how glad I was to have someone with me the first time I tried to find my parking spot when they made us move to the super convenient garage we had been parking in to the good-luck-with-that employee parking garage we now have to use, and how long it took to find it in that garage, which RR refers to as "The Garage That Never Ends."  And I remembered that the first time I walked to our building from that garage, I had thought how glad I was that I wasn't having to navigate it myself because I'd have never figured it out and would have wound up sitting next to a homeless guy, crying my eyes out, in the nearby sketchy park.  And then *I* got nervous and couldn't relax. 

She thinks I'm really nice. I'm not. It's not kindness. It's anxiety. 

If I were really kind, I wouldn't have sat in her car while I had a cold and a fever. 

Anyway, I stayed home Tuesday, then poor RR came down with it (sorry!), and she was down for the count for a few days.

I had to go back to work on Wednesday because it was my boss's birthday lunch, and if you think she would have been fine with me missing that due to illness, you don't know her.

Plus, blerg coworker had ordered me to take care of our joint present to the boss, and I wimped out on arguing about it, so I had to go in to take the present.  We have to get our boss a present for her birthday.  I'm generally against that kind of thing. I don't think that you should have to get your boss a present--ever.  It should go the other way.  Anytime someone who works for me gets me a present, I'm very uncomfortable. How can you expect a present from someone who has to do what you tell them and who makes a lot less money than you do?  But I've noticed that most bosses don't seem to have any problem with it.

Come to think of it, I work with a lot of people who require sucking up and fawned over.  I didn't get a present from my boss for my birthday.  She did, however, sign the group card that everyone in the office signs for someone's birthday.  It said, "Take the day off, you deserve it."  My birthday was on a Saturday.

I know I sound like I'm complaining, but I'm really not. I'm just making observations.

So, anyway, I'm almost over the cold, but not completely, so I'm still feeling pretty sorry for myself, and using that self-pity as an excuse to eat a lot of this chocolate-marshmallow-fudgy thing I've been making lately.  Yes, I, too, am surprised that it wasn't a fat pad on the X-ray. 

Despite the massive amounts of junk intake lately, or perhaps because of it, I've been kinda cranky at work this past week.  My boss told blerg coworker that she (my boss) was worried that I was too stressed out and was going to burn out and quit.  Of course, then blerg coworker suggested that my boss could help my stress by relieving me of having to do a few of the tasks that I do for my boss that aren't really part of my job, and my boss said no.  So . . . I guess she's not really that worried about it.  Maybe that was my boss's passive-aggressive way of asking my blerg coworker to tell me to stop being cranky at work.  But as long as I have this cold, that's going to take a lot more marshmallows than I feel comfortable eating. 

But then again, in this economy, do I really want to make my boss unhappy.  And, hey, for a mere $30, you can have a case of marshmallows delivered right to your door.  And if my boss wants me to stop being cranky, I guess I don't really have a choice, right? 

Monday, April 09, 2012

Nananananana CAT SCAN!

All day long I've been singing "cat scan" to the tune of the theme to the old Batman t.v. show.  Why? Because today was the day of my CT scan.  I didn't like it.  I didn't like the iodine injection part, where you feel hot in your veins and get a metallic taste in your mouth.  But mostly I didn't like getting yelled at by the CT machine.  I was just lying there in the semi-darkness, listening to the soothing drone of the machine, when completely unexpectedly, the CT machine started projecting orders in a loud computerized woman's voice.  "BREATHE IN! BREATHE OUT! BREATHE IN! BREATHE OUT! HOLD"  It was the opposite of relaxing.  I felt like I'd been ambushed.  But I, for one, welcome our new computer overlords, so I did as I was commanded. 

Of course, the unexpected yelling of commands flustered me a bit, so I'm not entirely sure that I wasn't breathing out when I was supposed to be breathing in, and vice versa.  No kidding, I had a few moments there as I was trying to follow instructions when I could not actually remember which way was breathing in and which way was breathing out.  It was not unlike the time right after we'd received our learner's permits, and my mom decided to let RR drive her, me, and my grandmother home from a restaurant.  Poor RR was so flustered by everyone monitoring her and most assuredly judging her that she couldn't think straight and was forced to ask for a reminder about "which one's go."  My grandmother very seriously almost walked home.

For the record, RR is an excellent driver.

I did have to take off some of my clothes for the CT scan, and the technician was surprised and impressed by how quick I was about it.  I didn't think he wanted any explanation, so I didn't tell him that the faster I can get undressed, the faster I can get into bed, and the faster I can get to my favorite part of the day--sleeping. I can undress very fast. I am no bedtime lollygagger. I don't usually get yelled at about my breathing when I'm in my bed, though.

Anyway, that's over. 

In other news, I'm still anemic, so apparently more testing is required unless I can find a way to magically become un-anemic in the next few days. I'm open to suggestions, up to and including back-alley blood transfusions.

Just kidding.


Today wasn't all bad, though.  The allergy-safe marshmallows that we ordered last week arrived today.  In case you're wondering, marshmallows are still fabulous when melted and mixed with peanut butter.  I plan on conducting many, many follow-up experiments just to make sure.  After all, you can't really draw any definite conclusions about something based on a single experiment. In the name of science, I really should do some more testing. 

Oh! I almost forgot!  The crazy, incompetent coworker is gone.  And when I say incompetent, I mean incompetent. I have never in my life met someone so bad at an office job who was able to form complete sentences and was also legally allowed to drive.  And when she screwed up, 95% of the time she blamed it one someone else.  And she lied about things for absolutely no reason.  And she created trouble for other people constantly.  I do not understand how she held on to her job for so long except that incompetent people and trouble-making coworkers somehow almost always stay employed and are often even promoted.  But regardless of how she managed to stay on for so long, she finally found another job, quit, and left, though not before spectacularly burning any bridges she might have left.  It was awesome, and I mean that in the real sense of the word. 

That's all that's going on with me.  And now if you'll excuse me, I just realized that I have only tested these marshmallows with crunchy peanut butter, and really, if I'm serious about this, I need to test how the marshmallows taste with creamy peanut butter.

Friday, April 06, 2012

Tornadoes, CT Scans, and General Fattiness

So, you may have heard that we had tornadoes in the area on Tuesday.  It is amazing that no one was killed.  I'm also completely shocked and so, so happy that my house and my parents' house all escaped with no damage.  My dad's car did have some hail damage, and actually they do have to have someone come out and check their roof for hail damage as well.  If they have to replace it, it will be their third roof in four years.  They do not have good luck with hail.  But the storm that produced one of the tornados passed right over my place and over my parents' house, and yet everything is intact.  That's pretty amazing. 

I was a bit nervous watching the weather on the television by the bar at the restaurant I was stuck at during the storm, as the radar images showed one of the storms going right over my home, then my parents' home, then my dad's workplace.  But I was distracted by how hungry I was.  Yes, I was at a restaurant, but there was nothing I could eat there.  We'd gone there for one of our weekly work lunches. I think my boss doesn't believe I have food allergies and am just staging some sort of hunger strike, because I can't think of another good reason why she would drag me to a restaurant every week so that I can watch her and my other coworkers eat food.  Those lunches always last two hours.  And this time, we were stuck there for even longer while we waited out the storm.  Further evidence she doesn't believe I have allergies: she asked me if I wanted dessert, I said there was nothing I could have, and she said, "You can't have bread pudding?"  I gave her a confused look and replied, "Well, it has wheat . . . and eggs."  I did not say, "otherwise, I would eat the bread pudding whenever we go to that place with the really good bread pudding instead of sitting there, watching y'all eat it, staring longingly at your plate the whole time."  But I thought it.  It could have been worse. I could have been RR, who had to spend the storm in the restroom at work because that's the safest place in their building. 

But that no lives were lost, and that my family suffered minimal damage--I'm pretty excited about that.

I'm less excited about my latest medical escapades.  RR and I often say that we rarely have anything serious wrong with us, but we frequently have minor but very annoying medical issues.  I'm currently having such an issue.  For the past month, I've had some issues related to my breathing that I decided to have checked out.  My GP didn't hear anything weird going on with my lungs, so she put me on prednisone to see if that helped.  That wasn't that helpful, probably because I completely screwed up on the dosage instructions and didn't take it the right way.  Instead of going back to my GP because I didn't want to get yelled out for my failure to do some tests for a small anemia issue and because I was pretty sure the breathing thing was related to allergies, I just went to see my allergist. 

My allergist also didn't hear anything wrong with my lungs, I concurred that I don't think there's anything going on with my lungs, and a breathing test indicated that my lung function was a-ok.  Out of an abundance of caution, though, she had me do a chest X-ray.  She called me the next day to tell me that my results were "interesting."  Not "interesting" as in "code word for scary but I don't want to freak out the patient," but "interesting" as in "there's nothing serious here, but there's this weird thing."  Turns out my lungs were hyperinflated, which usually goes with things like emphysema (which I don't have) and asthma (which I don't have--see excellent lung function, above).  But the X-ray could show hyperinflation if I took a really deep breath right before the X-ray, and I don't have any lung issues, so she's not that concerned about it.

The other "interesting" thing was a small opacity that could be a benign cyst, or a benign hernia, or--and this is what she thinks it is--a fat pad.  A fat pad.  A FAT PAD.

Yeah, I googled it, and yeah, that kind of thing is often associated with obesity.  I'm not obese.  I'm not close to obese.  I'm not really overweight.  Ok, yes, I could stand to lose two to five pounds.  I'm not obese.  But I have a fat pad. 

This just confirms my long-held belief that I am primarily made up of fat.  I may not be fat, but I am fatty.  

So now I have to have a cat scan.  Of my fat pad. Can't wait.  

At least everyone at work will have to stop giving me a hard time about being a healthy eater.  Right?