Cold Spaghetti

In the midst of crying children, attempts at cleaning drywall dust, painting, cleaning up paint from doors that aren’t suppose to be painted, and ongoing gutting of the outbuilding, Aunt Flo came to visit.

Which reminded me that a few weeks ago, I picked up a Diva Cup.

Yes. This is a post about menstrual products. I gave a warning.

Sooo… my deal is this. Whether because of the internal scaring caused by Will’s delivery or just the changes from having babies, I have been unable to use tampons and have incredibly intense cycles. There is likely some sort of dysfunction somewhere, I do fit basic menorrhagia definitions. I did at least try to start investigating these things, but the process is stalled for now. The point being that I can use a lot of product in a month. It’s expensive. And if I want to bond with all my earth muffin sisters, I gotta get on the going green flow. So to speak.

Back to the Diva Cup. It was on sale, it came with a free gift, and so I bought it. It looks like a dixie cup with a rounded bottom. It’s made of flexible, soft plastic. And the idea is that you fold it up, stick it up, and it pops open… magically catching all that endometrial excess. Sort of like the bucket you put under the sink to catch the leaks when the pipes drip. Upkeep involves periodic emptying and a cleanse. But that’s it.

Sound gross to you? Puh-leeze. Gross is chemically treated cotton fibers left in your hoo-ha. Gross is scrubbing blood out of sheets because everything leaked… again. Gross is that wad of cotton starting to fall out mid-swim because the pool water got up in there and caused it to swell. A little reusable cup? Comparatively, no, not gross at all.

Tonight, before taking a bath, I tried it. I was really not in the head space for anything new and didn’t spend a lot of time reading the instructions. At first, I wasn’t even wanting to bother to wash it off (no, no, of course I did). To insert it, I sat on the can and followed the directions. It went in so easily, so quickly, and so effortlessly that I wasn’t even sure if the thing had opened. Still seated, I couldn’t feel a thing.

Then I saw the final step, that whole IMPORTANT! step, about grabbing the stem and turning it. What? I went back in to find the stem and turn. Was it turning? I couldn’t tell. But it seemed like all the messing around was screwing up the placement and I figured a good taking out practice wasn’t a bad idea. So I reach further, grabbed the base, squeezed it and took it out.

It, too, was easy. Really easy. And looking at it, there was evidence it was already working.

At this same moment when my hands were uh, occupied, Kate ran in the room, slammed into my legs, and knocked the Diva Cup out of my hands and into the toilet. (No, no, the water was clean. But still.) I had to fish the darn thing out to a hundred Kate-questions about why I was playing in the toilet. After another thorough wash I went back to my position on the can and re-inserted. Again, it seemed fine. I stood up and thought I could feel it, similar to how I can feel a tampon but not quite as uncomfortable. Maybe this time I didn’t insert it quite right? But I decided to live with it.

The bath was absolutely fine. And no red drips on the towel afterward (a problem I had with tampons). I would feel confident swimming with it. I do feel the stem (although this may be due to problems with insertion) if it keeps up, I may look into trimming the stem. But so far, I’m giving the product a thumbs up.

Any other market testers have advice?

—

UPDATE: The first two times I used it were great. Then, suddenly this morning, the magic disappeared. I cannot get it to work today… it’s leaked ALL DAY LONG. Ironically, I thought I was getting better at inserting it because I haven’t been able to feel the stem. Damn. Any advice?

ANOTHER UPDATE: There is a learning curve with this thing. I’m getting better, I think. Even with the curve, I’m voting it number one option.

Kate is home sick. No real fever, or at least none that doesn’t instantly respond to Ibuprofen, but she is definitely not herself. Content to lay on Mommy’s bed watching Charlie Brown blow the big Spelling Bee… over and over again… which is, without doubt, not the normal child who goes to 11.

Even she seems confused about how she feels and what she wants to do. This short exchange, recorded 15 minutes ago, is the perfect example:

14nov2008_katewantstoboogie

A few days before we left for last week’s Pittsburgh trip, when I was feeling totally overwhelmed with home and Mommy and wife-y duties and starting to beat myself up about ‘what is the next step with this dissertation…. hmmmmm??‘, I decided to join NaBloPoMo, or National Blog Posting Month.  This is an agreement to blog each day for the whole month of November.  I rationalized that I could publicly track my progress daily.  Either it would be a motivation for me to do better each day (sort of the ‘Weight Watchers’ idea of accountability), or, be so publicly humiliating that I am shamed into progress in December**.

I look back at this and think, “WOW. I thought all of that and I wasn’t even on the crazy pills yet!”

Part of the treatment for my bronchitis/cold/can’t breathe mess is a short course of steroids (“I want to pump… you up!”)  Thankfully, this is a quick in-and-out treatment where you start to taper at the first dose, not the several month taper I endured for almost half a year in 2001.  If you knew me during that time, you remember that I was one big hunk of crazy on steroids.  Couldn’t sit still, couldn’t listen, couldn’t sleep, always hungry, and way emotionally raw… in short, completely manic.  That is pretty much how I feel now.

I’m not sure what I can get done, if anything, until I’m tapered off these drugs and better recovered.  But what I can do is make some plans.  This is what I want for the month of November.  Here are my goals:

— To review the transcripts

— Translate relevant parts

— Decide if more interviews need to be done

— Complete any additional interviews (okay, this one involves many forces outside my control, but there it is)

— Send them to Angela and Monica (in Peru) for transcription

— Announce that I am done with interviews, and BE DONE WITH THEM.   (This could be the hardest step of all!)

There is one potentially fatal flaw in the plan, and that is I did not include a ‘meet with committee for input’ part.  This is somewhat strategic… getting feedback from a committee member is a hopeless process that takes months, is wrought with conflicting information, and typically leaves me feeling lost.  In other words, I could do all of this work and then have it all shot down.  But I’m going for the ‘forgiveness not permission’ route here.  And hoping that what I do have is strong enough to build on.

So that’s my goal.  The second goal is to post progress here.  Just how much work can one woman complete on her dissertation in the midst of illness, election day school closures, home renovations, a husband who works three jobs, her Schweitzer Fellowship retreat and project obligations, school committee meetings, Board responsibilities, her first child’s 5th birthday, Thanksgiving holiday, and general holiday preparation?

May the force be with me.

** Hey… I was not the only one to feel this way!

When I was a kid, my Dad was away a lot. As a good Navy family, my Mom, Grandmother, brother, and I would adapt our holidays as needed to when Dad was around. Celebrate a birthday a few months late. Hunt for eggs on an odd day. The calendar was secondary to us being able to be together as a family.

So now I am a Mother of two and it’s the day before Halloween and I am sick. Like, had to go and suck down medicine in a tube in an Urgent Care sick. It’s a head cold turned bronchitis with some sort of nasty sit-on-your-chest-til-ya-wheeze side effect. I’m hawked up on a bunch of steroids and antibiotics and inhalers, weak in the knees and in bed while Paul — poor Paul — handles his job, our kids, and a whole house of cards just tumbling down, one by one, on his hurting head.

Halloween could not come at a worse time. The spider costume isn’t made (I bought the toilet seat covers for the spider body and have the black tights for legs). Will is going to wear his Batman pajamas to school tomorrow — at his request, chosen over my initial offer of his last-year’s Peter Pan — and Kate? Well, she was suppose to be the Little Miss Moffett to Will’s spider, wearing a simple blue dress that is in no way costume-y, but paired with a bonnet (this woman is amazing), and a little sign about ‘curds and whey,’ I figured we could make work. But for school tomorrow? I didn’t think about this. I wonder if last year’s Tinkerbell still fits her? (It’s 12 months size… unlikely.)

Are we the world’s worst parents if we forgo Halloween?

Can we turn it into a belated punishment for all that not-listening in weeks past? (Okay, I admit, this seems unduly evil.)

But what if we just can’t do it? What other options do we have?

Sung to the tune “Close to You” by the Carpenters

__
Why does Paul look at me and frown
when he hears that hacking sound?
It’s just my luck, that I’m stuck
with a cold.

Why do the kids crawl in bed with me
when in truth, they should flee?
Don’t they know, Mommy is so
sick with a cold.

On the day that we got back from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania,
I was starting to feel a little ill.
So I took Nyquil and got some rest,
thinking soon there’d be no phlegm in my chest!

But despite staying in bed all day,
My body will not obey.
It’s just my luck, that I’m stuck
with a cold.

Let us hope, that I’m stuck
just with a cold.

I’ve already made the $11 investment in toilet seat covers for Will’s costume, so it’s too late for this Halloween.  But I am placing our order of four in for Mardi Gras.  I wonder what kind of alterations we’ll have to make for it to fit Kate?

And while we’re on the subject of the minds behind ‘Whip It’… poor Paul!  That fall put some nasty huge bruises on his (ahem) derriere.  Huge, gynormous, brusies.  I’d post a picture, but I figure the hole-in-the-seat-of-his-pants picture was probably pushing it.

New mission: slowly switch out all of his undies to leopard print, to up the entertainment value of future hole-in-pants photos.

(Devo find, h/t to Mighty Goods.)

Aye, Nietzsche.  What other choice do we have?

Finally, I heard back from Tulane’s health insurance system… in a mass email, but hey, at least it was something.  What before was “I don’t think you qualify, but I need to check,” is actually I *DO* qualify to enroll in the Tulane plan even though I am considered a ‘part-time’ dissertation student without course credits.  In fact, I can enroll all four of us on the plan… AND even get dental.  The price?  About $12,000 annually, (only $10,200 without dental.)  Plus 20% for Every Damn Thing, a $750 deductible to meet, and a low lifetime maximum (don’t get hit by a bus)!

While this is still cheaper than the $1800/month COBRA option, it’s still pretty high.  But it buys us some time to find out what will happen in a year.

Another option we’re trying to explore: getting the Tulane insurance (which is, all in all, a pretty crappy,  expensive plan but maybe better than nothing?) for just me and seeing if Blue Cross Blue Shield will insure just Paul and the kids.  BCBS has not been happy with my paperwork thus far, since I know have ‘ulcerative colitis’ on my ‘history’ but have had no treatment for this diagnosis for almost 7 years.  I tracked down my old doctor from Michigan (now in Irvine, California) who called me at 11:55pm local time last Thursday.  That’s how hard insurance companies make doctors work… that they are at the office at 10pm calling patients a few time zones away.  *sigh*

We had a great conversation despite the late time and she relayed to me a dozen insurance horror stories which included things like a triathlete who happened to have a sinus infection the year before applying for coverage and was offered a policy which included a waiver that anything related to sinus infection would not be covered for 6 years.  And one about a patient who was treated for a cold and mentioned having some diarrhea at the time of treatment — he was denied health insurance and although Dr. Song wrote several letters attesting to the man’s health and the fact that diarrhea is just a normal part of having a cold, the policy was refused.  In other words, she was pretty convinced that because of my colitis history… even though she agrees it was very likely self-limiting (meaning I’ll probably never have any issues again)… that I will never be able to get insurance.

So the game continues.

Our children are good at many things.  But going to sleep at night is not one of them.

Well, maybe that isn’t quite true.  Somewhere around age 2, Will became an award-winning, champion sleeper.  Even now, he’s still pretty good about going to bed when told.  Yeah, he politics and rationalizes all the reasons why he shouldn’t go to bed, but when we are firm he typically listens.  This is particularly when Kate isn’t around.

Kate does not like to sleep.  In truth, she’s never liked to sleep.  When she was a baby, I would lay nursing  her on our bed with a leg thrown over her legs and an arms thrown over her body — holding her down as delicately as we could — until she stopped moving long enough to nurse and fall asleep.  This is when she was 4 months old.  It’s only gotten worse since then.

Looking back at some of the milestone posts I wrote about Kate, each one I’ve found says something about her inability to get to sleep and stay asleep.

At some point this past summer, Paul and I took on the near-death experience of teaching Kate to go to bed.  We used this Supernanny-inspired hint of wisdom with Will and found it to be a stroke of genius, without the psychologically damaging side effects of other methods.  The idea is you stay in the room and each time the child gets out of bed, you put them back in.  The trick is that you must do this, without stopping, for about 5 hours.  You don’t eat, sleep, talk, use the bathroom, and after awhile, you don’t even think… you just desperately wish for someone to remove you from your misery.

Somewhere in the second week, we found that Kate was able to actually go to sleep after our bedtime routine.  Granted, she wakes up a few hours into her sleep each night with night terrors — but as this has been a constant in our lives for nearly a year, we were okay with it.  I do plan on asking her pediatrician about it when we can figure out how to actually see a doctor again… best guesses on this timeline is when I have enough time to wait outside the free children’s health van for the uninsured.  It’ll take all day for the 10 minute consult, but that’s okay; it will give me plenty of time to think of some really good fake names.

Regardless of how many times she woke up, we were completely blissed out over having successfully conquered a Bedtime Routine that lasted under 2 hours.

We must have been high on life, because we quickly destroyed it all by going on vacation.  And then spending a week in Mobile, evacuated from our home due to Gustav.  We kissed all that hard-earned work right out the window.

And now, even though we know what is Right and what is Wrong, and even though we really know what we have to do next… what we really want to do is whip them both soundly and send them to bed.

Did you know that when your hair starts suddenly starts to fall out, rapidly fall out — like whole clumps clogging the drain with each shower until 5 weeks later when barrettes that used to not hold even half of your hair fall out because there isn’t enough hair on your entire head to hold them in place — that it is a sign that your body is under stress or crisis and is shutting down hair cells in order to redirect energy elsewhere to places where it is needed?

Stress or crisis.  Of course THIS is when I have stress or crisis.  When we are waiting to find out if that Blue Cross Blue Shield family health insurance plan is going to start on August 1st.  Although I may have COBRA now, if I see a doctor and then discover that BCBS has denied us, I feel pretty certain I will never be able to buy a health insurance policy in the United States again.

Looking at the full picture… extreme fatigue, vertigo, dizziness, depression, inability to loose weight (and unexplained weight gain), heavy heavy heavy long long long monthlies, and now rapid hair loss… this is starting to look like an underactive thyroid.

I put a call into the primary care doctor I saw back in March, when I thought that my fatigue and blues were caused by anemia.  Labs showed I was healthy and fine (just slightly anemic, which she called ‘probably menstrual’ and not to worry).  When my hair started to fall out after we got back from Peru, I figured it was anemia again and started taking iron.  I was patient, but it hasn’t gone away.  Now when I reach back and feel my hair, I have to fight back tears.  My hair is almost gone.

So what are my choices?  What can my doctor really do?  Nothing unless I see her, which I can’t do until we know we have insurance.  The way I see it, I have two options: do nothing and get sicker, or, research thyroid meds and find a way to get them myself and do my best to figure out if/how they work.  I can do a lot of stuff to myself that is harmful without infringing on any laws or endangering anyone’s profession.  So what is so bad about getting medications, which may help the problem?  Just trying to consider the big picture and remember that I (hopefully) won’t feel this way forever.

Kate has conjunctivitis. She is getting drops in her eyes regularly. They are really, really, really goopy. She just woke up crying because she couldn’t open her left eye; it was glued shut. Otherwise, she is totally fine (read: a complete maniac.)

Will has been switched from one pink stuff to another pink stuff. The pediatrician I spoke to this morning about Kate switched him on her suggestion that amoxicillin isn’t as effective. The issue came up because, while asking about Kate’s eye, I also had to ask for a refill on Will’s antibiotic because we’d used half of the bottle putting the medicine in a thousand concoctions to try and get him to take it painlessly. In the end, we put him in time out until he took his medicine. It took about 2 hours this morning. Tonight, it only took about an hour. We’re hopeful for continued improvement in this regard.

I stopped by the house this afternoon — the heat was set to 60 degrees and the heater didn’t turn off the whole time I was there. We’re in the toasty apartment again tonight but unfortunately have to leave tomorrow.

Paul has not showered in two days, is beat, and complaining of sore throat. That annoying scratch in the back of my throat has not gone away… it’s gotten worse. I didn’t sing the kids to bed tonight. It’s time to admit that one or both of us may need a swab in the back of the throat… which means we need a doctor, something we haven’t had locally since the storm (yup, we’ve not had a primary doctor for over 2 years).

Anyone local reading this have any suggestions?