Take two advil and call me in two weeks, or proof that I am getting old
So awhile back, I noticed that my right hand was hurting when I pushed on the fourth knuckle or on the tip of my fourth finger. It would hurt when I grabbed things and I was having problems doing things like opening bottles, cans, etc. I had an occasional trigger finger on that finger (note for those that click, that is NOT my hand. My nails don’t look quite that bad). My dad was visiting and he had had a similar issue a few years back, where they’d gone in and opened up the sheaths that hold the tendons in the hand.
So I hauled my butt into the Doctor a couple of weeks ago. Apparently, there’s a cyst on the tendon which is causing pain. He wanted to see if it would go away on its own and told me to take anti-inflammatories and come back in two weeks if its not better. The good news is that it’s a cyst because they can just drain it; if it’s the thing my dad had it would have meant getting the procedure re-done every couple of years.
Me: Excellent!
Doctor: I thought it hurt?
Me: Oh it does! But now I can tell my dad that I’m all Mature and stuff because I’m getting old!
Doctor: ??????
Me: Dad says that when you get old you start growing things. I think technically he was referring to things on the outside of the body, but I think this will do.
[crickets]
Doctor: So yeah. Just take some anti-inflammatories for a couple of weeks and see if that helps. Bye!
A week later I called for an appointment in a week because my fourth right digit started swelling up and it hurt to bend it. It was also difficult doing things like typing and using a mouse on that hand. At work I use a left-handed mouse, so that helps. I’ve switched my mouse at home to left-handed as well, but I can’t get away from the typing thing.
Yesterday, I went back to the doctor, schlepping the Poptart along because she had a rash on her face for the last month (we are extremely attractive these days, I have to say what with her spotted face and my swelled up hand).
Doctor: We’ll make an appointment for you at the hand clinic.
Me: How long does that usually take? It’s our slow month so if I could get it done in August or the beginning of September, that’d be great. [ed. note. I say this because I know he’s connected and can usually pull a string or two].
Doctor: Oh it doesn’t usually take too long because they put a whole bunch of people through each Friday. And there’s no way I’m going to try to drain that myself – there’re way too many nerve endings in there and I’d just make things worse.
[crickets]
Me: Oh, well. I’ll trust your judgment. You did, after all, catch my kid.
[crickets]
Doctor: So, yeah, I’ll see you for a followup after its done! Make sure reception has your contact information. Bye!
So now, I wait for the office to call me or email me and let me know if/when I get an appointment.
Update: October 13. Today I call the specialist’s office to see if they have a waitlist for cancellations.
Don’t get me wrong. I really like my doctor. He’s kind, sympathetic and has a good sense of humour. He just doesn’t know what to make of us because one minute one of us will be spouting about technology, and the next we’re spouting new age stuff and going on about the evils of dairy products.
You can still enter my A&D Diaper Rash Products giveaway here
Post-Partum Depression, Depression and Living
A year ago, I dragged myself to the doctor to deal with post-partum depression (PPD) which manifested as anger and anxiety. Honestly, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. The thought that you’re not in control of your own mind is something else. Coupled with the anxiety, it was a good recipe for now-daily panic attacks.
I knew I was a good candidate for PPD – depression runs in my family. My dad was diagnosed as clinically depressed years ago. He was put on Effexor which helped him, and at that point it was the antidepressant of the day. It’s also one of the strongest ones out there and the one of the hardest to get off. When he found this out, he weaned himself off, saying, “I don’t want another monkey on my back.”
His medication of choice, by the way, is scotch: two drinks before dinner.
Honestly, I think it was more the idea that he wasn’t in control of his own mind that scared him off.
And it’s here that we get to the difference between “mind” and “brain.” The way my doctor explained it was it was largely a biochemical reaction – brain chemistry is out of balance and Zoloft helps regain that balance.
For years, I had suffered “episodes”: I’d have a day, or two, or three, or seven where I just wasn’t motivated, was sad and just couldn’t deal with life. Then I’d go and sleep for about 12 hours and I’d be better for a while. “Awhile” varied: it could be months, weeks, or a day. And I thought this was how people lived their lives – that everyone needed a reset once in a while. Because for me, this was normal – at least since my mid-teens. As I got older, another coping mechanism became wine: for about a year before getting pregnant, it was not unusual for me to have a glass or two, or three at night after work. Once in a while, I expect this is okay – but when it’s every day, it starts becoming a problem.
And then I got pregnant, gave up wine and had a baby.
Until I gave birth, sleeping was my coping mechanism. Diet too, but more sleeping. This was fine and doable when I didn’t have a baby, but with the sleep deprivation of new parenthood, I went into a downwards spiral until one day I was driving home and considered plowing the car into a concrete median just so that the responsibility would be someone else’s. That afternoon I called my doctor.
A month later, the cloud lifted. A year later, I feel better than I have felt in years. I have mental clarity, focus and my drive is coming back. I have the occasional mini-episode, but they’re not debilitating like they used to be and are often fixable with a walk or a swim rather than having to sleep for 12 hours or take a day off work. For me, the answer is one pill, once a day before bed.
So what am I saying? If you think you need help, you might. It probably can’t hurt to go ask. And it’s okay – it’s not your mind. It’s a biochemical reaction in your brain. Like Katie said when I came out about this, “If you were diabetic, you’d take insulin, right?”
Author’s Note: I wrote this yesterday, before this twitterstorm about this article on AOL. The really offensive comment has been removed since the twitterstorm. Basically the expert they asked said that post-partum depression is situational, and people get depressed because they can’t hack their situation. When she was called out she actually responded that all depression is situational:
Generally speaking, I don’t buy the chemical imbalance theory for any depression; I believe people just don’t want to deal with real life issues and the fact that sometimes life is simply depressing and damn difficult. It isn’t about chemical imbalance but tough times and our own issues.
(Shamelessly stolen from Pretty Babies’ post, linked above)
And it is attitudes like that, from other women no less, that make it necessary for us to speak out, and not give depression the power it has had through silence. It’s time to break the stigma, like I said above. Depression is chemical. Some people benefit from counseling, other from anti-depressants, and some people need both.
If you want to read more about this, Her Bad Mother has been far more eloquent on the subject than I ever could be; she takes my “depression sucks, but you can get better and it’s okay to ask for help” and gives it a voice that can be heard all over the internet.
Given it was a year ago yesterday that I finally overcame my own prejudices and asked for help, and this occurred today, I felt I had to chime in. Because I’m fairly certain that for me, it wasn’t only post-partum depression – it was an ongoing depression. That pill I take every night makes me a better mother, and a better person because I’m not so wrapped up in my own misery I can’t focus on anything else.
And for people out there that want to think otherwise, go ahead, think it. But this is what works for me and my family. This is what helps me go beyond existing to living.
You can still enter my A&D Diaper Rash Products giveaway here
Administrative Note/Navel gazing
I am alive. Really. I promise. But the whole working-full-time-and-having-a-baby-at-home-while-partner-is-quitting-smoking*-and-finding-some-sort-of-work-life-balance thing is putting a cramp in my blogging time. And since I spend all day in front of a computer, it’s kind of the last thing I want to do when I get home.
ANYWAYS, what we’ve been up to lately:
Thing the Firste
One set of grandparents were visiting last weekend for father’s day. It was great. We went to the Greater Vancouver Zoo and I have a ton of photos on my camera, but don’t have time to get them posted right now. The Poptart walked most of the way. What I want to know, is: how the hell did I become mother to a toddler?
Thing the Seconde
I attended a networking session yesterday and my old boss was there (really my former boss’ boss, but whatever).
The problem with seeing someone after not seeing them for awhile is realizing how much you miss them. I nearly started crying when she hugged me. I miss her terribly, both as a person and a manager. She always inspired me to do better, and she managed to do it again at this event.
And she said it was okay to have other things to prioritize, especially when you have a family. Specifically, she said, “You can have it all, you just can’t have it all right now.”
Thing the Thirde
I have been doing a bootcamp for the last 5 weeks. Apparently, it is a beginner bootcamp, but when we’re doing deadlifts and then I can’t walk properly for a couple of days, I question that. Especially when I start eyeing the Poptart’s stroller at the Zoo and wonder if it’ll hold my weight.
But I liked it and will probably sign up for the summer session as well. I’ve also been shredding for the last couple of weeks and have made it to level 2, and ohmygod. My obliques. They hurt.
So, what have you been up to? You’re probably in my reader, but I have over 300 entries to read. So it’ll be awhile before I get to that.
*It has been a week since he had a smoke, so we’re over the worst of it. And I am so proud of him.
The difference between knowing and doing
Yeah, after mother’s day? The exercising every day at lunch? Went the way of the dodo. Again. I spent a day in a 7 hour meeting, and then mother’s day and etc. And then I had to deal with some other stuff at work that involved me using my lunch hours for that. Add into the mix a teething, cranky baby that just wants to sit on mom in the evenings and a 5am wakeup time and, well, you get a perfect mix of excuses.
On Thursday, I went to my bi-monthly chiropractor appointment and for the first time ever it was quite painful. He really had to work to get my back to move into place. And he admonished me to get more exercise. I responded with a snarky, “Yes, I know that. It’s the difference between knowing and doing.” So he told me to surprise him next time by getting more exercise and having an easier-to-move back.
(Yes, I have a love-hate relationship with my chiropractor. I love that he makes me feel better. I hate that he knows how to get me to do what he wants me to do)
So for the last couple of days, I’ve been mulling it over. Do I really know what I need in order to exercise?
They say that in terms of exercise, something like 90% of it is getting there (you know, that “they” that is healthy and possibly athletic and runs marathons). I know I hate the idea of running with the fire of 10,000 suns. I see people running and they look like they’re in pain. Even my chiropractor (one of those “they” people) admits he runs because it’s the easiest way for him to get exercise, not because he enjoys it.
And honestly, that 90%, doesn’t work for me. I’m lazy – I always have been. Even as a baby, I was content to play quietly, snuggle, and not be all that active. My dad “encouraged” me to be more active (read: physical activities every day after school, followed by dinner and homework, oh and making me ride my bike when he felt I was getting too pudgy – but that’s neither here nor there, except for the fact that cycling for me is right up there with running). Getting my body physically to the place where I exercise isn’t enough, and I can get going, it’s the keeping going for the half hour, or hour or whatever. I know I feel better after I exercise – it’s just not enough of an incentive for me. You want to see bargaining going on? Get into my head while I’m on the elliptical or treadmill or stair climber.
So what do I need? I need someone who’s going to keep yelling at me to keep going while I’m exercising.
So enter Jillian Michaels. I like her. She’s tough, and encouraging. So I’ll keep start doing the dvd’s again.
I need variety – I get bored easily and either need something to distract me, or regular changeups.
I’m not ready for a personal trainer. So today I’m going to register in a beginner bootcamp that starts next Saturday.
I need to be a good role-model for the Poptart and show her that exercise can be enjoyable.
So on her first birthday, which is Monday, I’m going to be the best me I can for her.
Breaking Bad*
I have a bad habit at work. I tend to spend my lunch seated at my desk, eating, sometimes reading, but often working and not really paying attention to my lunch. I also work in an office that does all the events for the organization so there is often a lot of generally bad for you but oh-so-delicious treats around (in the two weeks I’ve been back, we’ve had three cakes and that was just for going-away, bridal shower, and a birthday).
A long while back, Darren was doing a cleanout of crappe at his office. He’ll often bring crappe home, and either get it working or trade it for other crappe or recycle it. One of those things was a portable DVD player. We never use the thing because, well, we have no use for it really (although, when the Poptart is older, it might come in handy in the car).
While I was on maternity leave, the organization started having lunchtime yoga classes for those that can take a bit more than an hour for their lunch. They set up a studio in some empty space that wasn’t really useful for offices. One of my coworkers uses it when there are no classes going on for her own workouts.
Today, I have packed up the portable DVD player with the 30 day shred in it, my 3lb weights** and workout clothes and will start doing that at lunch. All in an effort to start breaking this bad habit of working/reading through my lunch.
*Yes, that title is shamelessly stolen from a television series.
**Did I also mention I’m walking to the train today? With my usual stuff, workout clothes AND 6 lbs of free weights? Oy.
Food Revolution Fridays: Quinoa
I know I’m the mother of a small child when I the highlight of my Friday evening (especially during Stanley Cup playoffs when Darren is glued to Blackhawks’ games) is Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution. It’s basically healthy food p0rn.
And since I am the mother of a small child who apparently loves to eat (although the last week or so, she’s more interested in throwing her food on the floor than in her mouth), I figure I should start making more of an effort to eat healthier meals.
So I’ve joined Scattered Mom’s Food Revolution Fridays. A couple of weeks late but things have been hectic around here.
Today’s healthy dinner:
- locally sourced, hormone free T-bone steaks, broiled, with horseradish (or if you’re Darren, barbeque sauce)
- Quinoa Salad
I’ve been interested in trying out quinoa for awhile, in there interests of incorporating more whole grains. Quinoa is touted as a superfood – it’s a complete protein with all 8 amino acids. The Incans called it “chesiya mama”: the mother grain. So I bought a pile at Costco the other day and I quite like it.
The Poptart enjoyed playing with it and smearing it all over her face.
And of course, I’m not one to really follow a recipe so I bastardized the recipe linked above. This is what I did.
Ingredients:
- 1.5 C dry quinoa (cooked in 3 C of liquid)
- Diced red pepper
- Cucumber, quartered and sliced
- garlic sauteed broccoli and asparagus (this was leftover from last night. Steaming would work too)
- 1/4 C grapeseed oil (I’ve switched from olive oil to grapeseed for the most part)
- 1/3 C lemon juice (or in my case, the juice of one large lemon)
- 2 tsp (or so, probably a little more) minced garlic (from a jar. If you’re really ambitious, you could mince it yourself, but why?)
- salt and pepper
Instructions
Cook the quinoa in liquid at a ratio of 1:2 (so for every cup of quinoa, use 2 cups of liquid). You can use water, chicken or veggie broth (but watch the sodium unless you make your own). Bring it to a boil, uncovered, then turn heat to low, cover it and cook it for about 15 minutes or until the grains are translucent and the germ is white, like so:
While it’s cooking, chop the veggies; whisk the oil, garlic, lemon juice, salt and pepper together.
Remove the quinoa from heat, fluff with some sort of utensil and let it cool a bit (you can put it in a bowl. Since we’re using lemon juice, use something non-reactive).
When it’s cooled a bit, mix in the veggies and dressing. Chill before serving.
Voila:
(I was going to throw the chickpeas in, but Darren’s not a fan. I’ll add them when I eat the leftovers for lunch).
Oh, and hey! There’s a website and book about quinoa cooking: Quinoa 365: The Everyday Superfood.
(No, I’m not being compensated for that. Thanks to @smuttysteff for the link)
So yeah. Quinoa. Go. Buy. Eat. Yum.
Salsa and Babies
Did you know that salsa and babies go together well?
(This is really going to get me some weird searches. Almost as weird as “How do you make cookies from babies?” For real.)
Last week, in an effort to find something different to do, I signed up for a Salsababies class. That would be salsa, the dance, not salsa the stuff you eat on corn chips with guacamole and sour cream and melted cheese and taco meat.
Now I’m hungry. Dammit.
Where was I? I’m quite tired. I had my hamthrax and seasonal flu shots yesterday – one in each arm and dammit, my arms hurt a lot from that. I didn’t sleep well and then I went and learned the merengue and the salsa. Or I tried to. I’m not really that coordinated on land. Get me in the water though and I am Barishnikov. Except with less hairy legs, I hope.
Add to the lack of coordination an 18 lb baby in a carrier on my chest and it makes for a good workout. I went to Chapters afterwards, and was immediately accosted by two people wanting to help me – I think it was so I would leave faster; I don’t think I smelled all that great.
So yes. If you have a baby, go to salsababies (don’t go and get a jar of salsa and dump it on your baby though. He/she probably won’t like that). If you don’t have a baby, go to a regular salsa class.
Or you could take a cooking class and learn how to make salsa.
A bit of seriousness about H1N1
Last year, when I was pregnant, I signed up for a flu shot through my employer. I put a note on the form saying I was pregnant and could you make sure to provide the shot for pregnant women instead of the standard shot, please. I got to my appointment with the Public Health Nurse and she didn’t have it. So I didn’t get the shot.
I’m fairly certain I got the flu. It was miserable. Darren was about 10 minutes away from hauling me to emerg when my fever broke. I missed over a week of work.
Last week, Darren had some sort of illness and didn’t go to work. He had all the symptoms of the H1N1 flu. The Poptart and I seem to have escaped it.
So on Monday, I go to the doctor to get my H1N1 and seasonal flu shots. I fall into one of those priority categories at the moment – a caregiver of a child under 6 months of age. The Poptart will be 6 months old on November 17. On November 24, she gets her 6 month needles.
And therein lies the issue. The original thought was that I would get the flu vaccines, produce antibodies (hopefully) and pass them on to the Poptart by breastfeeding.
Well, it seems the antibodies don’t transfer well through breastfeeding. And its only 80% effective; I may be part of the 20% of the population that doesn’t react to the vaccine.
So we’re leaning towards delaying the 6 month vaccines and getting her an H1N1 vaccine instead, and possibly a seasonal flu vaccine as well.
Leaning. Not 100% convinced yet. Mainly because we don’t understand what happens at the 6 month mark that suddenly makes this vaccine okay for babies.
So questions for the doctor on Monday:
- should she get the H1N1 vaccine? should she get the seasonal flu vaccine?
- should we postpone the 6 month needles to give her the flu vaccine(s)?
- What happens at 6 months that makes the vaccine okay?
On the one hand, I’m kind of leery of giving her more needles than what she needs. On the other hand, I’d feel really terrible and guilty if she got sick and I didn’t do everything I could to protect her.
Open Letters: H1N1 Vaccine and People Who Suck
To all the people who are not:
- pregnant
- having a chronic health condition
And starting next week:
- immunocompromised
- healthcare workers
- caregivers of children under 6 months of age or people with compromised immune systems
- children aged 6 months to 5 years
And are sneaking in line and lying about one of the above to get an H1N1 shot early.
You suck. You taking that vaccine means that someone who has a greater chance of getting seriously sick or dying from H1N1 goes without. That’s pretty sucky of you. Instead, I offer the following suggestions: wash your hands, carry hand sanitizer, take your vitamins and be patient.
That is all.
Halloween post to come later. I just had to get this off my chest.
Edited to add: As of this evening, Alberta has shut down its flu clinics, except for target groups. If you queue jump in that case, you’ve escalated from being merely sucky to douchebaggery.
So. Yeah. Anyways, or why this space has been blank and I haven't been shredding
The short of it is that everyday tasks have seemed herculean to me over the last month. Shredding was the last thing on my mind.
For the last month or so, I have been feeling…off. I have been angry. And when I wasn’t angry, I was anxious. And when I wasn’t angry or anxious, I was sad. Often, I was all three at once. Getting up was a daily challenge and I dreaded daybreak, which I saw more often than not. Every morning, I’d hope she’d sleep just a little longer, so I wouldn’t have to interact with her as much that day. Every day seemed longer and longer until 5pm rolled around.
Last week, I had an optometrist appointment – a follow up to last year’s laser surgery. The poptart screamed all the way home, a good 30-40 minute drive. The thought crossed my mind that it’d be better to just ram the car into the concrete median, because then someone else would take care of me and the poptart and I could get a break. We both arrived home in tears.
I pulled it together long enough to feed the poptart and then phone my doctor’s office.
It is vaguely ironic when you phone the doctor’s office for help and get a busy signal. It’s somewhat like calling 911 and being put on hold, I imagine.
I did call back and made an appointment for Monday.
There were several times over the course of the few days from Thursday to Sunday and even Monday morning that I almost cancelled. And except for the almost-panic attacks in Zellers and Superstore I might have.
Anyways, I went. And well. Zoloft. Generally, I’m not much for pharmaceuticals. But I can’t afford to have any more time where I’m not 100% there for this:
