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* Y'all are too kind. Thank you for your comments, your tweets, your e-mails, your WWF chats and facespace comments and messages and oh, hell, there is something in my eye. I'm not going to stop blogging. I just don't want to be a big fat downer, y'know?
* Since so many of you expressed concern about Isis and I'm not facespace friends with all of you and not everyone is on the Twitter, here is the deal with Isis. We spent three hours at the vet. It sucked a lot. They had a poor little mutt come in as an emergency who was hit by a car and we had to wait while they patched him up as best they could. His owner was bawling in the waiting room. I felt awful for her! Meanwhile, Bumpus flying-tackled Hotter, launching himself from the exam table directly into Hotter's face and knocking him onto the floor, Little Child climbed the exam table, Bumpus humped the shit out of Isis, both dogs and at least one human had gas, and chaos pretty much reigned. You think I'm kidding? Here is the only picture I snapped that doesn't show any of my kids' faces:
Figure One: Believe it or not this is them playing, not fighting to the death.
* As for Isis's lump, the vet didn't like the look of it and did a needle biopsy. The mass in Isis's abdomen is a lymphnode, and the vet is more concerned about the superficial lumps (there are two now). She was hoping they were cysts and that she would be able to drain them with the needle, but no such luck. She did get enough of a sample to send to pathology, and in the scuffle I forgot to ask when that would be back (I know, I suck! I'll call tomorrow). Meanwhile, Isis is on a broad-spectrum antibiotic that kills "everything but MRSA" and we're to apply hot compresses twice a day to encourage any infection to come to the surface and drain. If that doesn't happen they'll need to operate. Between the cost of the biopsy and HALF the course of antibiotic (I'll have to go back for the rest after I get paid), here is what our bank accounts now look like (I actually thought we'd be overdrawn and laughed the laugh of the unhinged when I saw this):
Figure Two: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAOHFUCK.
* The MFA Children, exam-table climbing aside, were absolute angels during the long wait. Middly said "your face is worried about my dog and so I am worried, too." Take that, people who said he'd never read faces or show empathy! When I saw the bill and he saw my face, he teared up and gave me a hug. "Thank you for saving my dog," he said happily. Oh, buddy. I hope this works.
* I...am not even a little bit okay. I don't really feel anything except wheezy, because our vet treats cats, too. I'm a little concerned that my priorities are out of whack. My husband desperately needs a ton of dental work and I just spent everything we had trying to save a dog? The trolls of the world are going to love this shit. Physically I think I am on the mend; my ear and sinuses were not terribly painful today and things are draining. Some of what is draining is blood, but I think that's just what I get for taking NSAIDs. At this point I'm more concerned about my mental health (see: priorities, above) and so I am going to get back off the innernet. I'll let you know when we know something about Isis.
The week wasn't done with us. I am up late because my ear is killing me, and Isis is snuggled up to me, because that's what she does when I don't feel well. In rubbing her belly a few minutes ago I noticed a little bump on her skin. I pressed and poked at it, and it's not hot and doesn't seem to bother her, so I figured I'd just ask the vet about it on Monday when I take her in for shots.
And then I felt it. Under the skin and subcutaneous fat, actually IN her belly: a mass.
This week wins. I got up after less than five hours' sleep and dragged my sorry ass into the office, but something wasn't right. I felt like I'd been hit by a bus and my sinuses were draining a lot, but I didn't really feel all that sick, and believe you me I was on symptom-watch after last night:
Figure One: I really wanted to be wrong, but I knew what this meant.
Usually when I get an ear infection, I spend a couple of days dithering over whether or not this is an actual thing and whether or not I want to cave and get medical attention; the ear that always gets infected is also the one that hurts like hell if I'm about to get a migraine or sometimes even when there's a storm coming, so wretched ear pain isn't always indicative of infection plus I hate hate HATE taking antibiotics. Today we've had rain, thunder, and even a tornado warning, so when my ear started to hurt around nine this morning I kind of shrugged and kept working. I had some emergency NSAIDs (I know, I know, I shouldn't be taking those but my H&H are pretty respectable since the hysterectomy so I use them sparingly during autoimmune clusterfucks and migraines) in the pill-fob on my keychain and took those in case it was an impending migraine (and also because my SI joint is KILLING ME), but I wasn't terribly concerned at that point. I was doing some field-work today, running around talking to people with my uber-sexy fits-over-eyeglasses safety goggles on, so I was pretty distracted although I did notice that where the goggles rested against the top of my cheekbone on the left side it kind of felt like a brick was sitting on my face.
At eleven I thanked the folks helping me and headed back to my desk, and pretty much the moment I sat still I realized that I had A Problem. I messaged Hotter on gchat and told him I didn't want to lose any hours in light of our current financial clusterfuck, but didn't think I'd make it all the way through the workday. He suggested that I hang in until my usual quitting time (I'd planned to work two hours past that), then swing by Urgent Care on the way home. I agreed, then yawned and OH MY FUCK, HELL NO, OWWW. I shot my boss a quick e-mail letting him know that I wasn't feeling well and asking if I could take my laptop home to finish what I was doing and go ahead and leave to go see a doctor. My boss, who is one of the nicest people I have ever met, came over to my cube and said he'd thought I looked a little unwell, and to absolutely go and get that checked out and not worry about working from home, just rest over the weekend and try to feel better. I knew I'd made the right call when that brought tears to my eyes; I am NOT usually a Weepy Willie, as k calls it, unless I am hella sick or have missed a Synthroid or something.
By the time I got to Urgent Care I was absolutely miserable with pain and the entire left side of my face had a heartbeat. The triage nurse took my blood pressure twice, then went and got the doctor right away because apparently I was starting to go into shock a little: IT HURT THAT MUCH. The doctor was a very nice Russian lady who looked in my ear and exclaimed "ohhhh eardrum is rupture, is no wonder you haff pain!" She made me lie down and put some topical anesthetic drops in my ear, which helped some, prescribed Levaquin and Vicodin, and strongly suggested I see an ENT about getting a tube put in after this heals since this is the second time she's seen me for an ear infection this winter and she could see notes from two others in the past year alone, all in the same ear.
Figure Two: Ballllls!
I feel quite a lot better now that I am home and in bed and the Vicodin has kicked in, but I'm still hurting pretty badly and shocked at how quickly this came on, and I'm also absolutely GUTTED over losing five hours today and having to spend sixty dollars on medical care and drugs (thank goodness I have insurance and Levaquin has gone generic--I'm upset and feeling rather cheated by life but also well aware this could have been a lot worse) on top of what I already lost to Temp Agency #1's tax-form fuckery and Temp Agency #2's payroll gaffe. Probably we'll end up with an overdraft, and it all just seems so very fucking futile; why am I busting my ass at three different jobs if we're fucked in the end anyway? So fine, I cry Uncle, this horrible week has defeated me entirely. I don't know why I can't fucking catch a break lately, but for right now, and definitely until at least Monday morning, I just give up.
* There is nothing quite like finding out you've been fucking ROBBED before 6 a.m. to start your day off shitty. Well okay, not technically robbed, but apparently Temp Agency #1 reset everyone's W-4 status to "single, no exemptions" as of Valentine's Day for who-knows-what-reason and I was supposed to know to refile my tax forms? I don't know. What I do know is that my paycheck this week was light by about 20%, which? UNACCEPTABLE.
* Don't tell me I'll get it back next April, because I won't. The Department of Education will get it next April. I think this is part of why I was so deeply unhappy about the whole thing (aside from the whole "money snatched from my pocket while attempting to save up for badly-needed medical care for my husband" bit); it reminded me that I suck and am a loser.
* Speaking of things that suck, why the buggery FUCK doesn't Medicare cover preventive dental care for transplant recipients, anyway? I get that a lot of dental work can be considered cosmetic, and that technically one can get by without teeth, but here's the thing: in an immunocompromised person a dental infection can kill. There is nothing optional about getting the very worst of what's wrong with Hotter's mouth fixed, and Medicare isn't even saving Uncle Sam any money by not covering this stuff, because I'm guessing not a lot of single transplant recipients go on to marry people who are willing to work their ass off and handle this shit. Which means that some of those who are even more fucked than Hotter is end up getting infections, which if they are too poor to have broken teeth extracted and cavities filled and already scrambling to cover their 20% of the medications they need to take every day to not DIE they probably aren't going to go in for right away. When they end up septic Medicare then covers their ambulance trip, their ER bed, their emergency oral surgery and week of IV antibiotics, their echocardiogram to see if they have vegetation on their heart valves, their maintenance meds and ICU bed, and whatever else they need while they're in-patient (and taking a transplant patient to the hospital is like taking a teenaged car to the mechanic--you may go in with a specific goal in mind but they WILL find more work to do while you're there). And all of that for the unfortunate few? Costs a HELL of a lot more than two cleanings and a set of x-rays every year for everybody, even if those DO reveal the need for a few fillings and maybe an extraction or two. /soapbox
* So I had kind of a crappy day, but it wasn't entirely without merit. For one thing, today I wore a new scarf (this scarf was the last frivolous thing I bought before money went utterly to hell again) that thrills me to the very core for two reasons. First, it's a fabulous scarf (half silk, half pashmina, butter-soft and utterly gorgeous). And second, it was an AMAZING deal ($9.99, free shipping, 1% cash back).
* Speaking of deals, this free app gave me a sick little thrill earlier today. It's designed to help you find the cheapest gas around, but that's not what I use it for. I already know that Big Box Membership Store will have the cheapest gas around and so unless I have some fuel points from Local Grocery Store to use elsewhere I just buy gas there. No, I use GasBuddy to GLOAT. Yesterday I paid $3.36/gallon for gas at Big Box Membership Store and today that same gas (from the same place) is $3.42/gallon!!! So I saved a little over a dollar by filling the MFA Minivan up yesterday on my way home instead of waiting until today. WHOO TITS!
* Also my dog is crazy-cute:
Figure One: Of *course* I mean Isis. Bumpus? IS NO DOG OF MINE! He's on his second psych med now; the first one didn't work and while on it he ate a door. I love how Isis does the homie lean, or maybe she's just trying to get AWAY from Bumpus (actually they are the best of friends, which is one of the only two reasons Bumpus still draws breath under my roof, the other one being that so far the cost of the therapy Big Child would need if I got rid of the stupid dog still outweighs what we'll lose of our security deposit thanks to his crazypants antics).
* And then a sweet friend did something incredibly kind that really raised my spirits. I don't know if she'd be okay with my saying what she did, exactly, or naming her, but I really needed something to cheer my sorry ass up, and this did the job.
* I am off to bed, because tomorrow is a seventeen-hour day. Ooof. God, I hate money.
