Day 49 was a busy day but, once again, we put in the hard work and everything was great in the end. Well, until I ate those wings. They looked so good(!) and I let my guard down. I really thought it was just the skin but... I got the headache almost immediately and woke up with stomach cramps in the morning. I've spent two days in the can.
The wings were delicious but nothing's that good.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Day 45
It's Valentine's Day and I'm going to take a moment to Oprah it out.
I find this to be a silly holiday. I have a valentine, my husband. He is amazing and treats me well every day. We enjoy each others' company every day and enjoy splurging on expensive dinners if we have something to celebrate. Deep down in my heart, I see no reason to do it up for Valentine's Day. I hate that people actually feel pressure to spend money or do something crazy so their girl can go tell everyone at work the next day how wonderful her man is. I hate that everyone asked me all day what I am doing for Valentine's Day, what did I get for Valentine's Day. It kind of reminds me of my wedding.
We got married a few months ago. I haven't gotten the photos back from the photographer yet and I'm kind of relieved. I'm sure I could have pushed the issue a little harder but, truthfully, I'm nervous about getting them back.
On the day of the wedding, I was totally on that bridal high. You could have shown me cold, hard proof that the Earth was going to explode the next day and I wouldn't have cared. Everything we worked so hard to DIY together looked just the way we wanted it. Logistically, nothing went wrong, my husband looked amazing, everyone we cared about was there, but some people (on both sides) let me down and, as hard as I try, I can't let it go. I'm not talking about Bridezilla craziness, I'm just talking about letting me down when it meant the most.
We mostly did what we wanted to do but, in the end, we dumped a boatload of money on certain things that I would have been happy to budget up on. We invited a bunch of people we don't know well, some of them hurtful people, and I'm not sure why we did that. Looking back, I think I would have pushed harder for barbecue and a smaller guest list. I wish I wouldn't have cared about pleasing people who don't care about us. Sometimes, looking back, I feel embarrassed and icky.
I'm afraid to get the pictures back. I'm afraid I won't like the way I look. I'm afraid that I will be upset all over again. I'm afraid that the pictures will be up all over Facebook so that, not only the people we did invite, but hundreds of other people we didn't invite will have a ticket to the show. I'm afraid I won't have control over what happens to my own wedding photos.
I created my own insurance policy before we got married to make sure that no one else had any say in how my marriage began and it was probably the smartest thing I've ever done. This is not about my marriage. It's about the show we put on for everyone else. It was something that happened because we were expected to make it happen, just like the roses that show up on everyone's desks on February 14th.
My relationship with my Valentine is serious, and private. I don't need to be told how or when to celebrate our relationship, it's not meant to be entertainment.
*No harm meant to V-Day lovers. Go for it! Maybe you can send me your email addresses so I can divert the questions to you tomorrow?
I find this to be a silly holiday. I have a valentine, my husband. He is amazing and treats me well every day. We enjoy each others' company every day and enjoy splurging on expensive dinners if we have something to celebrate. Deep down in my heart, I see no reason to do it up for Valentine's Day. I hate that people actually feel pressure to spend money or do something crazy so their girl can go tell everyone at work the next day how wonderful her man is. I hate that everyone asked me all day what I am doing for Valentine's Day, what did I get for Valentine's Day. It kind of reminds me of my wedding.
We got married a few months ago. I haven't gotten the photos back from the photographer yet and I'm kind of relieved. I'm sure I could have pushed the issue a little harder but, truthfully, I'm nervous about getting them back.
On the day of the wedding, I was totally on that bridal high. You could have shown me cold, hard proof that the Earth was going to explode the next day and I wouldn't have cared. Everything we worked so hard to DIY together looked just the way we wanted it. Logistically, nothing went wrong, my husband looked amazing, everyone we cared about was there, but some people (on both sides) let me down and, as hard as I try, I can't let it go. I'm not talking about Bridezilla craziness, I'm just talking about letting me down when it meant the most.
We mostly did what we wanted to do but, in the end, we dumped a boatload of money on certain things that I would have been happy to budget up on. We invited a bunch of people we don't know well, some of them hurtful people, and I'm not sure why we did that. Looking back, I think I would have pushed harder for barbecue and a smaller guest list. I wish I wouldn't have cared about pleasing people who don't care about us. Sometimes, looking back, I feel embarrassed and icky.
I'm afraid to get the pictures back. I'm afraid I won't like the way I look. I'm afraid that I will be upset all over again. I'm afraid that the pictures will be up all over Facebook so that, not only the people we did invite, but hundreds of other people we didn't invite will have a ticket to the show. I'm afraid I won't have control over what happens to my own wedding photos.
I created my own insurance policy before we got married to make sure that no one else had any say in how my marriage began and it was probably the smartest thing I've ever done. This is not about my marriage. It's about the show we put on for everyone else. It was something that happened because we were expected to make it happen, just like the roses that show up on everyone's desks on February 14th.
My relationship with my Valentine is serious, and private. I don't need to be told how or when to celebrate our relationship, it's not meant to be entertainment.
*No harm meant to V-Day lovers. Go for it! Maybe you can send me your email addresses so I can divert the questions to you tomorrow?
Labels:
2012,
Crohns,
Family,
Love,
Marriage,
Relationships,
Valentine's Day,
Wedding
Monday, February 13, 2012
Day 44
I'm sitting on a train, heading home to see my parents. More specifically, we are going to the hospital tomorrow for my father's one month, post stroke visit.
I've lived through enough to know that this was another turning point, when Dad had his stroke. We will tell stories now about before Dad had his stroke. We will talk one day about Dad never being the same after his stroke. We've already worried over what we should have done differently when Dad had his stroke. For several weeks prior to his fall, we noticed that he wasn't the same. Something about his facial expression. He seemed slower, less alert. Something just wasn't right. We should have done something then. But we did! Mom made him go to the doctor who said his thyroid was low. He wasn't home when they called so they told me about his thyroid. I knew it was nonsense. I cursed the lazy, overbooked family doctor I saw as a teenager and young adult. But I didn't do anything.
Then he fell. He told us some story about taking his meds without having had breakfast. We gave him some crackers and water and didn't call the ambulance. He told us not to. We knew he was going to fall as soon as we left him by himself, but we still didn't call the ambulance. We waited until he fell again. We learned not to question ourselves, our instincts.
This brings me back to healthcare and how far we still have to go in this country. Living in New York where the best of the best are available if you have enough money (this absolutely includes healthcare), I've forgotten how mediocre the healthcare is in my hometown and probably in most other rural communities. I've had enough hour-long visits with my New York doctor, his door closed, phone muted, to forget what it was like. I've forgotten how frustrating it is when the one person who may be able to help you leaves the room every two minutes of your fifteen minute visit. I've forgotten how scatterbrained the doctor can be when he has three other patients waiting in other rooms. I've forgotten how devastating it is when the doctor is in such a rush that he mixes up your paternal grandmother's diabetes with depression because it's the next disease on the list, then prescribes antidepressants instead of doing his best to find out that you have Crohn's Disease.
There is no reason why a DOCTOR should see a 64 year-old man with high blood pressure who is having trouble walking and is confused and NOT suspect a stroke. Looking back now, it is so obvious. Thyroid medication? A higher does of blood pressure medication? Did he really not suspect a stroke? Did he not think for a second that he should do the simple motor skills tests the doctor used at the hospital to help diagnose my dad's stroke? The simple, free tests that would have cost him only an extra five minutes? Where was his mind? On the insurance checks that would come rolling in after he cycled through the waiting room full of people?
So here I am on the train. I have to fight for my dad because he won't fight for himself. I'm not ready to let him die because the doctor is too busy.
I've lived through enough to know that this was another turning point, when Dad had his stroke. We will tell stories now about before Dad had his stroke. We will talk one day about Dad never being the same after his stroke. We've already worried over what we should have done differently when Dad had his stroke. For several weeks prior to his fall, we noticed that he wasn't the same. Something about his facial expression. He seemed slower, less alert. Something just wasn't right. We should have done something then. But we did! Mom made him go to the doctor who said his thyroid was low. He wasn't home when they called so they told me about his thyroid. I knew it was nonsense. I cursed the lazy, overbooked family doctor I saw as a teenager and young adult. But I didn't do anything.
Then he fell. He told us some story about taking his meds without having had breakfast. We gave him some crackers and water and didn't call the ambulance. He told us not to. We knew he was going to fall as soon as we left him by himself, but we still didn't call the ambulance. We waited until he fell again. We learned not to question ourselves, our instincts.
This brings me back to healthcare and how far we still have to go in this country. Living in New York where the best of the best are available if you have enough money (this absolutely includes healthcare), I've forgotten how mediocre the healthcare is in my hometown and probably in most other rural communities. I've had enough hour-long visits with my New York doctor, his door closed, phone muted, to forget what it was like. I've forgotten how frustrating it is when the one person who may be able to help you leaves the room every two minutes of your fifteen minute visit. I've forgotten how scatterbrained the doctor can be when he has three other patients waiting in other rooms. I've forgotten how devastating it is when the doctor is in such a rush that he mixes up your paternal grandmother's diabetes with depression because it's the next disease on the list, then prescribes antidepressants instead of doing his best to find out that you have Crohn's Disease.
There is no reason why a DOCTOR should see a 64 year-old man with high blood pressure who is having trouble walking and is confused and NOT suspect a stroke. Looking back now, it is so obvious. Thyroid medication? A higher does of blood pressure medication? Did he really not suspect a stroke? Did he not think for a second that he should do the simple motor skills tests the doctor used at the hospital to help diagnose my dad's stroke? The simple, free tests that would have cost him only an extra five minutes? Where was his mind? On the insurance checks that would come rolling in after he cycled through the waiting room full of people?
So here I am on the train. I have to fight for my dad because he won't fight for himself. I'm not ready to let him die because the doctor is too busy.
Labels:
Doctors,
Family,
Healthcare,
Medication,
New York
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Day 40
I probably spend a half dozen weekends in Toronto each year. Last weekend was my first visit this year. We usually have some family (and lately other) obligations. This weekend we had some extra time to spend downtown.
One way in which Toronto has New York beat is in gluten free dining options. It's been a few years since I gave up gluten and it definitely limits my restaurant options in New York. Toronto has several dedicated gluten free places and tons of restaurants and bakeries that serve gluten free options, a few of which we checked out last weekend.
After years of hearing and reading about it, I finally made it to Kensington Market. It was a little grungier than I was expecting but a good time. I think I would like to go back when the weather is warmer and really spend some time there. We had lunch at Kensington Cornerstone, a lovely little place with an entirely gluten free menu. There were chicken fingers! And sandwiches! And FISH AND CHIPS! The fish and chips really blew me away. It was so light and delicious. Go! Eat!
We also stopped at Haymishe bakery before heading out of town. The bakery is on Bathurst a couple of blocks south of Lawrence (I have no idea what I'm talking about, you might want to check that). They had a HUGE selection of gluten free foods. There were several different types of bread (I bought one after the proprietor insisted I squeeze a loaf), cookies, an amazing blueberry tart, rugelach, knish, rolls, schnitzel (!), more cookies, flatbread... I'm sure I'm missing some things. So I left with far more than I intended but everything was delicious, literally everything. Especially the dulce de leche cookies and the blueberry tart. And the flatbread. Oh, and the garlic/dill cream cheese. The bread was perfectly squeezy but I didn't get to it for a few days. I'll definitely get another loaf one day and eat or freeze it immediately.
I am so carbed out right now. Thanks for the memories (and the extra five pounds), Toronto!
One way in which Toronto has New York beat is in gluten free dining options. It's been a few years since I gave up gluten and it definitely limits my restaurant options in New York. Toronto has several dedicated gluten free places and tons of restaurants and bakeries that serve gluten free options, a few of which we checked out last weekend.
After years of hearing and reading about it, I finally made it to Kensington Market. It was a little grungier than I was expecting but a good time. I think I would like to go back when the weather is warmer and really spend some time there. We had lunch at Kensington Cornerstone, a lovely little place with an entirely gluten free menu. There were chicken fingers! And sandwiches! And FISH AND CHIPS! The fish and chips really blew me away. It was so light and delicious. Go! Eat!
We also stopped at Haymishe bakery before heading out of town. The bakery is on Bathurst a couple of blocks south of Lawrence (I have no idea what I'm talking about, you might want to check that). They had a HUGE selection of gluten free foods. There were several different types of bread (I bought one after the proprietor insisted I squeeze a loaf), cookies, an amazing blueberry tart, rugelach, knish, rolls, schnitzel (!), more cookies, flatbread... I'm sure I'm missing some things. So I left with far more than I intended but everything was delicious, literally everything. Especially the dulce de leche cookies and the blueberry tart. And the flatbread. Oh, and the garlic/dill cream cheese. The bread was perfectly squeezy but I didn't get to it for a few days. I'll definitely get another loaf one day and eat or freeze it immediately.
I am so carbed out right now. Thanks for the memories (and the extra five pounds), Toronto!
Monday, February 6, 2012
Day 37
I had a strange dream last night. I can't remember the details, just that it was weird and stressful. It threw off my whole day. I'm sure this is why I destroy my teeth in my sleep. These dreams.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)