Friday, June 26, 2009

It's All About Me

I've become one of THOSE people. I have an armada of individuals focused on my health and well-being, like those crazy old rich ladies. Except that I'm not rich nor hopefully crazy and old.

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE my doctors and health care network. They check up on me, squeeze me in for appointments when I'm not feeling well especially often as of late, and for the most part don't ever make me feel like I'm constrained by the limitations of an HMO. All of them are worth the long drives and worth every penny.

But as I was counting how many different people I have in my heath care rolodex (physical, mental, and emotional well-being), I felt a bit self-indulgent:
1) Primary care physician
2) Nurse Practitioner/gynecologist
3) Dermatologist
4) Dentist
5) Podiatrist (only once every 3 years)
6) Endocrinologist (he's new, thanks to my ill tempered thyroid)
7) Masseuse (she's also become my friend, that's how much I love seeing her)
8) Chiropractor (also new thanks to the pain of swollen thyroid thrashing my head and neck)
9) Psychologist (thanks to the stresses of my old job, though tapering off)
a) Hairstylist
b) Brow lady

I put the last two separately since they technically don't contribute to my health. However, I believe that they contribute to my emotional well-being to look decent and feel good and should be considered part of Team Whatchamacalit.

I briefly considered adding an acupuncturist/herbal doctor to the team when I was desperate for anything to make my head and neck feel better from the thyroid. That has been put on hold pending how the drugs do their job over the next week and a half! Until then, holding strong at just under a dozen folks on the propping up of Whatchamacalit.

Monday, June 22, 2009

The Never Ending Virus - The Bug Lives On...

"Guess what honey? I'm gonna be a dude!"

Thyroiditis - the itis that never ends. After a good month of Advil taking and slight improvements, the obstinate thyroid of mine took a turn for the worse about two weeks ago. It became flaming hot itchy and started swelling up again, just in time for a road trip up to San Francisco.

Back to the endocrinologist, who prescribed me steroids this time. Prednisone, which is supposed to be a super powerful anti-inflammatory drug that they use as a last resort for stubborn inflamed things. Apparently athletes use it. Then die at like age forty from heart failure.

The doctor gave me five days worth, hoping it would knock this thing out of my system for good. But as soon as I started tapering off the pills last weekend, my neck started swelling up again and the annoying itchiness came back. Back to two more weeks of super duper steroids!

So I don't think it's the type of steroids that'll make me a dude, but it was still fun to say that to the bf. Here's crossing my fingers that two weeks of 'roids will finally do the trick and kick this thyroid's ass.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Walking in LA

No one walks in LA? I try to but sometimes it's just not convenient. Yesterday, however, I spotted two very odd people walking around in LA.

1) A bum in Marina del Rey holding a sign "Spaceship broken. Need new parts." I give him points for humor and creativity.

2) A white dude sporting a Manchurian Ching dynasty style braided queue. Seriously, the dude had most of his head shaved except for the spot of long hair in the back braided down his back. I thought he was also a bum at first but then realized he was a semi-normal dude waiting at the bus stop. Also props to him for creativity and bringing back the look of Chinese males from the late 1800's/early 1900's.

Wednesday, June 03, 2009

Slackers, Generation X, Y, Z, or the Funemployed. Call It What You Will

To all those people who keep asking me in that disdainful tone of voice "So... what is it that you do all day?" or "are you looking for a job yet?"

Dude, I'm just part of a national trend. Suck it.

My brother's retort? "Lazies."

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Instead Of Greener Grass, Maybe It Might Be Browner, Yuckier Grass?

The bf and I still bicker. Mostly over little stupid things. New things. Sometimes big things. Often cliched coupley things. Then there are the unique things only to us. Being that we're both neurotic, stubborn, impassioned people, it makes for some drama.

The other week as I was driving home from visiting the godchildren, I put on an old Garbage CD for the long drive and "A Cup of Coffee" came on.


This was the song to describe the utter depths of despair I felt during the dark periods of pining over The Boy. The days of crying on my living room room in the afternoon. And then I thought, hey things could be a lot worse. At least, I'm not going through THAT anymore. At least THIS boy loves me back. Hindsight. 20/20. Blah blah blah...