tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30727907593424564922024-02-06T23:38:42.075-05:00Holy Stoltz!Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-2437408957957056752012-03-22T17:34:00.003-04:002012-03-22T18:04:53.360-04:00Antisocial ActivityLately, I really haven't done too much social networking. It's funny, I used to have times when I couldn't imagine not "facebooking" for a day! Now I could easily go through a day and not check it.<div><br /></div><div>Springtime usually brings the feelings we all associate with it: renewal, rebirth, growth, wanting to be outside taking part in all nature has to offer, wanting to clean out, start fresh and enjoy the longer days. So far this year, I have some of the feelings, but not a lot of motivation to back them up. The kids totally have Spring Fever. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tate is letting things slide at school. I think because she has made A/B honor roll twice, she thinks she can rest on her laurels. But her grades are slipping and for the past two report cards, she has not made the honor and has disappointed herself. Honor roll is not something I am going to militantly push, but we know she can do it...and if she doesn't she shouldn't be too far off the mark. She has been lying about homework. I had tried to remedy this a few different ways, but we constantly ended up butting heads over it. So, I decided to give her enough rope to hang herself. And sure enough, she did. Her teacher called me, with her in the office and we discussed it. It's frustrating because it looks like I don't care. I totally do! It's just that since Tate spends almost all of her time with me alone, she doesn't believe I know anything about anything. She's at the stage where she knows it all. And after a while, my words don't even register, so I figured actions would provide a better result. The call was about a week ago. We are still struggling with it, I am having to double-check everything and keep in close contact with her teacher.</div><div><br /></div><div>Things at home aren't great, but it's all the usual problems. I'm wiped out from having to take care of the kids about 85% of the time by myself. Money is tight. There seem to be some issues with the whole equal partnership thing. For me, it's simply not working. I'm not sure what the resolution is, but I've got to figure it out.</div><div><br /></div><div>Since I am home alone with the kids most of the time, I'm wicked lonely. All of my friends either live far away, work 9-5's or have families of their own. I can't really get any "hang out" time. </div><div><br /></div><div>My parents are having various maladies and that is upsetting. It's frustrating to watch them be in pain and not do a whole lot about it. With some things, there's not a lot to be done. With others, more could be done if they pursued it. I love them and want them to feel the best they can. It breaks my heart when they don't.</div><div><br /></div><div>Work is slow, so I've been having spells where I question what I do for a living. Sure, I make people pretty...but what a superficial thing to be known for. People like my photography, but not enough to pay for it. And that's pretty much it except for the latest endeavor of sampling out cosmetics that are not readily available for testing. I am working on new things to offer to sample, but all of these things require a nest egg to get going. </div><div><br /></div><div>Which brings me to my next thing, I blew my tax money. Breezed right through it, like a moron. Now I don't have much to take with me to London in April. And whatever "therapeutic" shopping I did didn't help much since I still feel like crap. I KNOW the things I SHOULD do, but I don't do them. It's my bad, for sure. As ungrateful as it sounds, I wish I could pass on the trip this year. It's never really a vacation, it's just my life here transplanted to London for two weeks. I can be lonely and frustrated here for free. <br /><br />So if you haven't seen me around, I haven't called you back or replied to your email, this is why. I've slacked off on the beauty blog too, since I can't really bring myself to do more than wash my face or brush my hair lately. I can't set an example as a good beauty blogger if I cannot bring myself to actually do anything that involves the beauty products I need to test or review.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love my Facebook friends dearly. There are so very many of you that I wished lived closer. I've got virtual friends who are emotionally closer to me than some people who live near me. It just seems that with my current frame of mind, some things are beyond the virtual reach of the interwebs. But don't give up on me yet, I'm figuring it out.</div>Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-42155285970459425712012-03-07T16:06:00.001-05:002012-03-07T16:06:48.440-05:00Happiness Project - Days 6 &7<br />
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I think Kevin Spacey's smile is infectious, whether there's lots of teeth, a hint or totally closed-mouth. </div>
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He's one of those people who totally smiles with his whole face. </div>
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In my opinion, a smile only counts when you can see it in the eyes as well.</div>
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And even with the photo with the slightest smile...you can see it in his eyes.</div>
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When I did a Google image search for "smile", the second image to pop up belongs to a friend of mine who is an illustrator. His name is Matthew Wilson and he's amazing. Smart, funny, an artist with a myriad of talents...there are many reasons to check out his work.<br />
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Guess what? He <a href="http://thewellkeptthing.blogspot.com/">blogs</a> and <a href="http://blog.workingwilsons.com/">blogs</a>!</div>
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Know what else? He <a href="https://twitter.com/#!/wellkeptthing">tweets</a>!</div>
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What could be better? You can <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/theWellKeptThing">buy stuff he makes</a>!</div>
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So, what are you waiting for? Go!</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Pig Mud Happy Smile</span></div>iamglamourpusshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218362463567859772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-23413276886636078632012-03-05T16:33:00.001-05:002012-03-05T16:33:39.875-05:00Happiness Project - Day 5<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There is a song by the Beastie Boys that has a lyric that kills me every time I hear it.</div>
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The song is called Hey, Fuck You. I know, it's charming.</div>
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The lyric is "So put a quarter in yo' ass 'cause you played yourself."</div>
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Classic.</div>
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<br /></div>iamglamourpusshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218362463567859772noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-91684491583490745832012-03-04T21:33:00.001-05:002012-03-04T21:33:09.223-05:00I'm Late, I'm Late...<br />
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Well, I've had a whirlwind of the past few days. I went to see Radiohead on Thursday. I recovered from the drive to Atlanta and back (to see Radiohead) on Friday. Then I had to work out of town yesterday. I hadn't even cracked open my laptop until just now.</span></div>
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<br style="text-align: -webkit-auto;" /><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">So, without further adieu: </span></div>
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"Every morning, I've got a new chance.." - Britt Daniels</div>
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My Mom makes great Southern fare. Livermush and eggs. Pintos and cornbread. Nom.</div>
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My Babies</div>iamglamourpusshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218362463567859772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-84890904347396543252012-02-29T23:02:00.002-05:002012-02-29T23:02:31.705-05:00Come On, Get HappyI haven't posted in a while simply because things have been going pretty smoothly, it seems like I only have the motivation to write here when I am faced with a battle or injustice. Tate started 4th grade. She hasn't been on any medication this year and she has managed to make the A/B honor roll twice so far! I'm so very proud of her. The biggest problem we've had is some bullying from a girl Tate has shared a class with since pre-school. Go figure.<br /><br />In the meantime, I've been stuck in the same rut I always seem to be in. Not necessarily upset or depressed about any one thing in particular, but restless, unsettled...and I suppose, generally unhappy. In light of this, I have decided to take part in a 30-day "Happiness" project. I figure it can't hurt to try to up the levels of happiness. So here goes:<br />
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I was pregnant with Tate here. 2002</div>
<br /><br /><br />iamglamourpusshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218362463567859772noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-88902475100937426982011-09-17T19:26:00.001-04:002011-09-17T19:27:45.041-04:0012 Months Later<div>I'm sure, if you follow me on Facebook, then you are probably sick and tired of hearing me talk about my hospital stay a year ago.</div><div><br /></div><div>I started posting about it on the day I was admitted. I let it go for a while, but seeing that it's the 17th of September, I realized I was in the lowest lows of my life on this day last year. A lot of this post consists of fragmented sentences. I'm just rattling things off the top of my head.</div><div><br /></div><div>At this point, I had been in the hospital for 18 days. I had gallbladder surgery that left me with a perforated diaphragm. Because of the infection associated with the gallbladder, I had what is called "sympathetic" fluid in my lung and on both sides of my diaphragm. I had been on an intensive care-type floor because I had respiratory distress. I had countless x-rays and MRIs. I had two drains coming out of me, one from my bile duct and one from my liver. I had my lung vacuumed out when I had my lung puncture. And I cannot forget, I had that barbaric "procedure" where I was given a chest tube. Not only did I have an inch thick tube coming out of my lung, it was connected to a box on the floor. I was tethered to my bed on a very short leash.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had two IV stands that were filled with various bags of things I needed: nutrition, fluids, antibiotics, something to treat a fungal infection, something else to restore the good bacteria into my digestive system...I can't even remember what else. And all of these fluids entered my body via a PICC line that had to be placed by a cardiologist because it had a threadlike thing that goes towards the heart. It was supposed to reduce the times I would have to have blood drawn, but after a couple days they weren't able to get blood out if it, so it was back to the old way. Shot after shot, needles after needles. Being awakened in the wee hours so they could get an oxygenated blood specimen. Having my finger pricked multiple times a day. Insulin every now and then. Shots in my stomach for something I can't remember.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sticky patches stuck to me for the entire time. Those damn things they keep on your legs to keep the blood circulating. Awful hospital food. Not being able to shower at all. Hospital beds that hurt after the first week. Not being able to sleep well. Only being given pain meds every 4 to 6 hours even though they wore off after two. Nebulizers I'd have to practice breathing with for 15 minutes at a time, a few times a day. Do you know how stupid it feels to have to concentrate on breathing? This is something we take for granted. Inhale...exhale. Our bodies do that on autopilot everyday!</div><div><br /></div><div>Then there was physical therapy so I could get back to walking. Sure, it sounds easy enough, but it's not when you have a bum lung and your legs are weak from being laid up for weeks.</div><div><br /></div><div>I laid and watched Mad Men. Then it was every brain-rotting Housewives show on Bravo. There was the huge PG&E gas line explosion in California. I learned Thunderheart is one of the most depressing films ever. I was intrigued by the ads for The Walking Dead, but hated seeing the ad where Rick falls out of his hospital bed in the first episode.</div><div><br /></div><div>But the worst part of it all was the NOT knowing. When would I get out? Would I get out? Were the doctors sure I wouldn't die? What would go wrong next? What horrible procedure would I face the next day?</div><div><br /></div><div>When I was on the intensive care-type floor, I asked my doctor if I was going to live. He reassured me all would be well, but there were so many unknowns. And I'm not sure if I mentioned this in my post after all this happened or not, but the second week I was in, I seriously considered taking my own life. I was in so much pain and so miserable. No one had any answers and I had a very hard time trying to visualize my life returning to normal. I mean, I couldn't even talk without getting winded. I was in such a state, I didn't want any of my loved ones to see me like that, especially my kids. I really did want to down too many sleeping pills and end the daily pain and torture. I experienced pure hopelessness. It wasn't terrifying to think about it, I guess I was just so worn down at that point (and this was before the chest tube). I would get sad and cry about all of the things I would miss in my kids' lives, but I wasn't afraid to die...I didn't even look at it that way. I just wanted the hospital experience to end.</div><div><br /></div><div>It took me about 5 months to fully recover, complete with in-home nursing for a while, as well as tanks of oxygen for me to use, if needed. I have 11 scars to remind me of my nightmare. Even today, if my cat settles down on my side and happens to stick his foot near just the right ribs, where my chest tube scar is, it hurts.</div><div><br /></div><div>Have I changed my life after all of this? Sadly, not so much. Things have pretty much reverted to the way they were before I got sick. It makes me sad to see that not much has changed. I suppose I was hoping life would be rosy and new, if only for the simple fact that I survived the roughest time of my life. But the reality is that life goes on with you or without you. </div><div><br /></div><div>I try to see things in a different light. I am thankful for the second chance I was given and all that I have. Although, I can't help but feel disappointed with myself that I haven't "seized the day" as much as I wish I could. The routine of being a mom, with two young kids and a husband who works an insane number hours a week, really doesn't leave much room for anything else, apart from complete exhaustion. I hope that one day I can figure it out. For now, I have to be thankful that I am here and will be around to experience tomorrow.</div><div><br /></div>Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-53660183136460803822011-08-22T01:09:00.007-04:002011-08-31T23:36:50.589-04:00Don't Go Chasing WaterfallsOne thing I have learned this summer is that my kids really love nature. We went on a road trip in July and traveled up the east coast into New England and Canada. Along the way, we stopped at state parks in Connecticut and Maryland, as well as the Lake Conemaugh lake bed in Pennsylvania and a cool little park in Romford, Maine. My kids are drawn to water. They love creeks and streams. And Tate loves the beach. It's the one place I've ever seen her completely acting carefree. At home she stresses about bugs and little things, but at the beach, she throws all caution to the wind and runs for the water. She doesn't even think about fish, crabs and all of the other little critters you can find there.
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<br />So, I felt the next logical step, once we settled in back at home, would be to check out the North Carolina state parks and natural areas. Since the kids enjoy water, I've specifically searched for places that have things they may enjoy. I have a shortlist of locations that are considered kid-friendly and decided to start with Looking Glass falls, which are near where my Dad lives.
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<br />Today, I can tell you, I've learned that "don't go chasing waterfalls" is not just a line from a TLC song. It started out innocuous enough. My Mom, my kids and I drove to my Dad's and from there we headed out for the falls. My Dad's neighbor said he knew exactly where they are and gave my Dad directions. I grew a little concerned once we were getting close because I had not seen anything I had expected to see along the way there. I have a friend who went recently and did a pretty good job of documenting the journey there. I decided to just cast those doubts aside and figured perhaps we were approaching from a different direction or something.
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<br />At last, we arrived at the overlook for Looking Glass Rock. We were told that once you park there, you cross the road (the Blue Ridge Parkway) and get on the trail to the falls. It should only be a 1/3 mile hike. Everything I had read online was that the falls were easily accessible and the walk was easy for children. As we started, the trail was fine. But it wasn't very long before there were tons of exposed roots, many rocks and inclines and descents that were steep and hard for the adults to get proper footing, much less the 4-year-old and the 8-year-old. And we walked and walked, seemed like forever. Occasionally, we would pass some hikers coming in the opposite direction and they would give us some idea of how much farther we had to go. At one point we had to climb these precarious dirt and log "stairs" and as soon as I saw them, my brain started trying to tell my body, "No, I'm not going there!" Every step had me tense with my leg muscles shaking. But once again, we all persevered and got through it. We thought it was encouraging when a hiker explained that we only had to crest one more hill and we would be at the falls.
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxRjDeUQONjN9LGosaxsIAYrJGKu2e01xnbHLPwFw3TLSOBsNrWueSNEDIgCtRiRKSEUy3EzqBMEclvsBrai5cyhaR7O12HLO33SwiDGAPTFuWShw4JJvH20oMlLCvtXTJnb5kZQeRhHi8/s1600/613-szd.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxRjDeUQONjN9LGosaxsIAYrJGKu2e01xnbHLPwFw3TLSOBsNrWueSNEDIgCtRiRKSEUy3EzqBMEclvsBrai5cyhaR7O12HLO33SwiDGAPTFuWShw4JJvH20oMlLCvtXTJnb5kZQeRhHi8/s320/613-szd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647229651116699858" border="0" /></a>It took us about an hour from start to finish, to hike the trail to the falls. But once we got there, it was really quite lovely. We went down some wooden stairs to a small bridge that crossed over the water. Great! Pretty! Worthy of photos.
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJrNwV-1SazEUaxyvhnOXsj5osyu0gmHlmlbGCP_SS8hK8Ma64lRJ62JuIyn2xoUI4dSaOol3hidRT5HPlfUZmljUOhcVZ_Rom7omjtMRgWnIdNwQDQUjXYR8Lp-mFeCH0uQWK2M-hBSre/s1600/702-szd.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJrNwV-1SazEUaxyvhnOXsj5osyu0gmHlmlbGCP_SS8hK8Ma64lRJ62JuIyn2xoUI4dSaOol3hidRT5HPlfUZmljUOhcVZ_Rom7omjtMRgWnIdNwQDQUjXYR8Lp-mFeCH0uQWK2M-hBSre/s320/702-szd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647226298630320738" border="0" /></a>
<br />I only took a couple of things with me on the hike. My camera was in it's case, hooked to my belt loop. My keys were in my left pocket. I had a bandana to keep my hair back once it started curling up and becoming unruly. And last but not least, I wore my sunglasses. At some point, I put my sunglasses in my pocket. On the bridge, I realized they weren't on my head so I reached into my pocket to get them.
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<br />This moment is insane and kinda difficult to explain properly. Some bizarre, cosmic thing happened. A fluke. When I pulled my sunglasses out, apparently my keys were hooked onto one of the earpieces and were catapulted into the water below. It happened in slow motion and very fast...at the same time. I couldn't believe it. I was dumbstruck and I would say speechless, but a litany of profanity came spewing forth. One good thing was that the water was very clear and I could see where the keys landed. They weren't carried off by the water and they were on the side closest to where I was. Unfortunately, the only way down that side was by descending these flat, steep rocks. (It's hard to tell in the photo. The red circle shows where my keys landed.)
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrAeT3BvHmN6iB3FyIIbJJjm4SH7lVRLBIp8dlN59rnr4sS_1lTbRCOh0Bk2662alz0srQzb_dRHDv3hvTRaAAmcgp47sPeC0BvnGgUzO3CVIec4SQyv8rX2DNzqlgj6fzrusnYm4SASb2/s1600/697a-szd.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrAeT3BvHmN6iB3FyIIbJJjm4SH7lVRLBIp8dlN59rnr4sS_1lTbRCOh0Bk2662alz0srQzb_dRHDv3hvTRaAAmcgp47sPeC0BvnGgUzO3CVIec4SQyv8rX2DNzqlgj6fzrusnYm4SASb2/s320/697a-szd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647226291772606130" border="0" /></a>
<br />My mind started racing. My car was the <span style="font-weight: bold;">only</span> car we drove there. Dominic is the only other person with keys to the car. He was in Charlotte and even if he could get away from work, he is horrible with directions and never would've been able to find us anyway. My Mom is spazzy like I am, so I could just see her injuring herself if she tried to get the keys. And my Dad offered, but he's got a foot that's not too great, so I didn't want him to hurt himself either. I was the youngest and allegedly the most fit, right? Right. I had to do it. If anyone was going to, it had to be me.
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<br />I began to descend down these flat and sloping rocks. There was lots of butt-sliding like a kid does when they are afraid to go down stairs. Once I found a safe spot to ditch my shoes, camera and sunglasses, I did. Then I set foot in the water. HOLY MOLY it was cold!! Mountain water is COLD! I baby-stepped at first, but why prolong the agony? But with each real step I took, the water got about 2 feet higher!! It was crazy. It took my breath away! I tried to stop to take a second and catch my breath, but it wasn't happening. And, unfortunately for all of my family who was present, I was dropping f-bombs left and right. By the time I got close to my keys, the water was past my shoulders!
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<br />I began to worry that I had hallucinated where my keys were or if they would be beyond my reach or something I'd have to try to pick up with my feet. Oh no, what if I missed and knocked them off the ledge they were on and they got carried off downstream? I really didn't want to take any more steps, so I swam a little bit, stretched out my arm as far as I could and grasped around until I had the keys. They were firmly in my hand and they were staying there until I could get to solid ground!
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<br />I got back to where my belongings were and got my shoes back on, reattached my camera to my belt loop and decided to add my keys to the hook that attached my camera case to me. Then the task of scaling the rocks back up to the bridge was before me. I'll be the first to admit, I am a complete spaz. I lack all coordination and I've always tried to avoid situations where it was needed. Over the past couple of years, I've become more and more interested in hiking and some mild climbing. When I hiked up part of the rim of Mt. Ubehebe in Death Valley in 2010, I knew it was something I'd want to do again. Unfortunately, I hadn't done that much of it. All the best laid plans and good intentions, right? But I found myself doing what I had to do and carefully placing my hands and feet and using muscles I never intended on using that day. My Dad was waiting towards the top and helped get me to my feet. After that, my arms and legs were like spaghetti and I was pretty much ready to go.
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJyTtWuzBHH2Uwc9HCEKYOpd4eoVAClmqwvEEOv2InPkzRnlLarxxZcz0FUyOL2bB4L4AgCYTOB7QiF_h-14iQvLqUXB5_nPgz3UsSXVtZDm4XxY_n2rtPjioIUz6UtLh-up0eEWZIqSG/s1600/693-szd.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJyTtWuzBHH2Uwc9HCEKYOpd4eoVAClmqwvEEOv2InPkzRnlLarxxZcz0FUyOL2bB4L4AgCYTOB7QiF_h-14iQvLqUXB5_nPgz3UsSXVtZDm4XxY_n2rtPjioIUz6UtLh-up0eEWZIqSG/s320/693-szd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647226290319925506" border="0" /></a>
<br />BUT, we hadn't really seen any of the areas around the falls. I wanted more photos. So, my parents took the kids and I did some more mild climbing and hiking to get some photos. It wasn't so bad, apart from trying to stay still long enough for a photo...and being drenched from head to toe. I took a change of clothes for the kids. Never imagined I would be the one needing some!
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<br />After all the photos were snapped and I made my way back to my family, we had to hike all the way back to the car. That was about another hour of hiking. Once we got to the car, I was absolutely gobsmacked to find that my keyless entry remote still worked! I had written that off!
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<br />The punchline of this entire story is that my Dad's neighbor gave us directions to Skinny Dip Falls, which are across from Looking Glass Rock.
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4fECuuygtzWp6I6d_wUYzCuW8Yu4jgmyqGdRN1HzKm2od9kAcbbkX7oezzXD6xrh5vjQXbLKcIq2OJMYVO36f6zGHn2ZV4s8McCyFZxHz3TKXafT9TAd95Oe_Qt6W-sWUELrjvTwcS2Rz/s1600/726-szd.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 312px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4fECuuygtzWp6I6d_wUYzCuW8Yu4jgmyqGdRN1HzKm2od9kAcbbkX7oezzXD6xrh5vjQXbLKcIq2OJMYVO36f6zGHn2ZV4s8McCyFZxHz3TKXafT9TAd95Oe_Qt6W-sWUELrjvTwcS2Rz/s320/726-szd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647226301633810050" border="0" /></a>
<br />Looking Glass Falls are somewhere else entirely different. We drove around and found them. Looking Glass Falls are beautiful and have concrete steps down to them. It's a minute's walk. Totally ridiculous, but an adventure all the same.
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<br />Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-27453688487680162272011-06-10T23:20:00.004-04:002011-06-10T23:45:05.523-04:00This Breaks My HeartWhile I was looking at photos to pin on Pinterest.com (which is my new favorite distraction) I Googled one of my favorite of places in the world, Killarney, Ireland. I was happy to see quite a few places I remember from my trip, like Ross Castle, the Muckross House, the tiny church in the town center, etc.<br /><br />But all of a sudden, I came across this photo of I house that I recognized. It was taken in 2009.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7vExJQ8UPTB_GImbabfgUOFQCJNHywilH1wMPrckUQfYpQLrogBseHqD3CP-RCj65uGPmz-XQCIiwq7mE9TaBJh-euuyopZP79BDZShczO_qKoEW9uhh7apYUtCu1mB4cVbaH28NM2k_2/s1600/killarney-66.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7vExJQ8UPTB_GImbabfgUOFQCJNHywilH1wMPrckUQfYpQLrogBseHqD3CP-RCj65uGPmz-XQCIiwq7mE9TaBJh-euuyopZP79BDZShczO_qKoEW9uhh7apYUtCu1mB4cVbaH28NM2k_2/s320/killarney-66.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616799995837203922" border="0" /></a><br />So, I ran through my travel photos on Facebook and found my photo of this house, which was taken in 1999 while I was walking to Ross Castle. It was one of those amazing moments in your life when the world seems to stop for a few seconds. Everything was quiet and I looked over and saw these horses and this beautiful little house from 1839.<br /><a id="publishButton" class="cssButton" target=""><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb3w17dhgbxgUe7hnR_D5fsNLrd7o9KRO7VcHe7SvKzlUbXCQk2hkQCHACAXtTqX5fTQ4kqOUfouwt1BoQ-joHYb9ZkTArK5owzyGe18f8t3IJTeOFMqYsB6kVF6q_KjvNwY1HuOnbFlYV/s1600/killarney-99.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb3w17dhgbxgUe7hnR_D5fsNLrd7o9KRO7VcHe7SvKzlUbXCQk2hkQCHACAXtTqX5fTQ4kqOUfouwt1BoQ-joHYb9ZkTArK5owzyGe18f8t3IJTeOFMqYsB6kVF6q_KjvNwY1HuOnbFlYV/s320/killarney-99.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616800798458541202" border="0" /></a><br />It makes me sad to see it in such a state. And imagine what it must look like now, if it still exists. I know things change and the world changes, but how does this happen?Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-14974655002396021852011-05-26T16:14:00.004-04:002011-05-26T23:43:35.075-04:00The Latest on Tate and the EOGsEver since took and failed every section of the EOGs she's been getting assistance from another teacher, a couple of hours a day. He basically just helps out with math. Today, Tate comes home with a note from this teacher basically saying that she needs to pay attention and follow instructions with her math remediation. And that was it, very short and blunt. I had to sign it to acknowledge I saw it. That's when I started to get angry. This guy has a classroom down the hall, but what does he really know about my daughter? Does he think she is simply thick and doesn't get it? Does he understand she has ADHD? I have no idea. But after Tate told me he said she would have to repeat 3rd grade and be in HIS class if she failed the EOG retest, that was it, I had had enough. You don't mess with a mama bear's cubs, you will get mauled.<br /><br />So I wrote this and emailed it to him and the interim principal:<br /><br /><br />Hi Mr. *********,<br /><br />Thanks so much for helping Tate with her remediation for the EOGs. I received your note today and I understand that Tate has some problems with concentration and following instructions. I'm not sure if you are aware or not, but Tate has ADHD. Her issues with paying attention and following instructions have been something we have struggled with for a few years now. There are multiple things the psychologist who diagnosed her recommended to help with her learning. A major thing to take into consideration is that Tate is an auditory learner, so it helps to have things repeated so she stays on task. You may or may not want to do this or feel like it is distracting for the other students, I'm just putting it out there.<br /><br />Before the EOGs, Tate's father and I had a meeting with Mrs. Cooper, Mrs. Burley and Mrs. Stephenson regarding our concerns about Tate and the EOGs. We discovered right before that special testing situations can be arranged for kids with ADHD. While Tate has an IEP for speech and it does include the information about the ADHD, Tate doesn't have a 504 plan in place, so nothing could be done. When we asked about what needed to be done to get a 504 plan in place for next year, both Mrs. Burley and Mrs. Stephenson stated that Tate would most likely not qualify for one since her ADHD doesn't seem to interfere with her schoolwork (Tate is a B/C) student. While I disagree with them, you are more than welcome to throw your two cents in to Mrs. Cooper, Mrs. Burley and Mrs. Stephenson if it will help our case for getting Tate a 504 plan next year.<br /><br />Last but not least, I understand the importance of the EOGs. And believe me, Tate understands the importance of these tests. Heaven knows it's been drilled into her head enough. You aren't the only person who has told her that if she doesn't pass she will have to repeat 3rd grade. She is very aware of the consequences of failing and she is terrified. I think it is quite cruel to place that kind of pressure on a child, especially after the school sends home a note prior to the EOGs stating to make sure that the kids get good rest, good meals and have less stress at home during the testing week. And let's face it, we both know that while the EOGs are important, they do not dictate if a child is promoted or not. Other factors are taken into consideration, at least that's what I've been told by Mrs. Cooper, Mrs. Burley and Mrs. Stephenson.<br /><br /><br />Thank you for your time,<br />Courtney Zepeda-Hawkes<br /><br /><br />And so the fight goes on...Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-66406803613194479142011-05-13T18:40:00.002-04:002011-05-13T19:16:31.010-04:00Teacher/Principal MeetingAfter the email I sent to the principal of Tate's school, she replied that she could meet with me and Dominic this afternoon. So, of course, Dom rearranged his schedule and we went.<br /><br />The meeting was attended by the school principal, Tate's teacher and the school counselor, who oversees testing. I will admit that I was terribly nervous. I hate these kinds of meetings. When it's something I feel passionately about, I get worked up. Then there's always the possibility I will say something inappropriate because I have a big mouth and I cuss like a sailor when I am mad. Last year, it got so bad that I sent Dom to all the meetings towards the end of the year.<br /><br />SO, what I was most afraid of was true, the IEP set in place for Tate is about her speech impediment and while it mentions the ADHD and has all the paperwork in there, it is not sufficient when it comes to allowances during testing. You need a 504 plan in place for that. You can learn more about a 504 plan here: <a href="http://www.playattention.com/504/school-your-adhd-child/">http://www.playattention.com/504/school-your-adhd-child/</a> Even if Dom and I pitched the biggest fits we could, that red tape alone would prevent us from getting the results we desire.<br /><br />Then, Tate's teacher brought up that Tate is a B/C student and has improved so much during the school year. And the principal assured us that the EOGs are not the end all, be all when determining if a child moves on to the next grade or not. This is very frustrating to me since they have placed so much emphasis on this. Tate has felt lots of pressure, at school and sadly, at home. I can admit that. I've been scared to death. When I talked to her teacher not that long ago, things seemed pretty bleak in her opinion. Today, another tale was being told.<br /><br />Basically, we got dismissed as the hysterical, stressed out parents. I really hate the feeling of being blown off. When we asked what we needed to do to get a 504 plan in place for Tate, they explained it would be something we would need to do at the beginning of the school year next year. Then they continued to say that Tate most likely doesn't qualify since her ADHD doesn't affect her work. WHAT!?!? Huh!?!? That confounded me. Her teacher has told me about Tate's struggles to focus while reading and finishing tasks on time. But her ADHD doesn't interfere. That doesn't make any sense. Her classwork grades aren't consistent either, it's not uncommon for her week's work to have A's, B's, C's, D's AND F's. It's the combination of high grades and low grades that average out to the B/C level she is at. <br /><br />It was right around that time that I could hold my tongue no longer. I couldn't help but ask them why we spent almost $1000 on having Tate tested to learn she has a learning disability if accommodations were not going to be made to help her with that learning disability? I'm sure you can imagine the awkward silence that followed. These 3 women just sat and looked at each other. That's when they said that many ADHD kids do not have 504 plans in place. That seems like a great disservice to the ADHD kids.<br /><br />The principal then tried to give us a different perspective and asked us if we would want Tate out of her familiar classroom setting to have her testing alone with a teacher she doesn't know so well? My answer was, "Don't you think it would be helpful if she could read the passages aloud?" They then informed me that even when you are testing alone, you cannot read out loud. <br /><br />In the end, the principal basically told us to stop stressing, not discuss it with Tate and to have a fun, early celebratory weekend this weekend. That's so easy for them to say, when yesterday I had to deal with Tate crying because she is so scared. Before we left, Dom asked them so, if Tate takes the first test and fails, then takes the retest and fails...what happens? She explained that we all get together and discuss it. He asked who makes the final decision and the principal said that they make it as a team. Then they all started talking about how Tate has done so well...blah, blah, blah. Basically, she WILL be going to 4th grade. So, that's good. But all of this unnecessary stress has me so exhausted and I know Tate is tired too.<br /><br />We are having issues getting her Daytrana refilled today too. The doctor wrote a prescription for 60 (10 mg) patches for the next month. Well, the insurance company won't cover it without pre-authorization from the doctor. I guess the fact that he wrote the prescription isn't enough. Not to mention, I had to go to the doctor's office to pick up the paper with the prescription on it. Then I had to take it to the pharmacy, only to get a call about the insurance company's shenanigans. We are going to get 30 patches, since that is what the insurance company will cover, but if she goes through more than that this month, we will not be allowed to get more.<br /><br />UGH! I don't think I can take much more today.Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-63057243173077175772011-05-12T13:38:00.000-04:002011-05-13T16:31:44.764-04:00Here We Go AgainWell, third grade has almost wrapped up for Tate. There is just under a month left of school. That said, there is still one MAJOR hurdle left for us to overcome. Next week, the "end of grade" tests (which I will refer to as EOGs) begin. These tests are standardized tests that were brought about by the "No Child Left Behind" program. But in reality, it seems like quite a few kids are left behind.<br /><br />Let me take a moment to post a letter I emailed to the principal of Tate's school. I wanted to set up a meeting with her and Tate's teacher, but they wanted to set it up next week, when the EOGs are happening!<br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><pre style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;">Hi Mrs. Cooper,<br /><br />I am afraid that meeting up next week simply will not do. This matter is<br />pressing and requires immediate attention.<br /><br />Having a child with ADHD has certainly been a struggle. At the beginning<br />of the school year, my husband met with Mrs. Stephenson, the assistant<br />principal and the speech therapist to lay out exactly what was going on<br />with Tate. I was unable to attend because I was in the hospital. He brought<br />the information from the psychologist who tested her and the recommendations<br />that doctor has made to help facilitate Tate's learning experience. It has<br />been common knowledge from the beginning that Tate has ADHD.<br /><br /><br />What I do not understand is why it was never brought to my attention by anyone<br />at SVES that special testing arrangements could be made for Tate (and other kids<br />with ADHD) when she takes the EOGs? I found out on Friday from a client I was<br />working with who explained that her little brother has ADHD and always has to have<br />special arrangements made for standardized testing. And just about a month ago,<br />I had a meeting with Mrs. Stephenson about her concerns with Tate and the EOGs.<br />She explained to me the process of testing and the one opportunity for retesting<br />and then the process of the meeting where a teacher from each grade level is<br />present, as well as you, and we state our case about why Tate should be promoted.<br />She also gave me a list of things we can do to help with her studying skills.<br />I have downloaded all of the practice EOG exercises, as well as made copies of<br />quite a few reading exercises that Mrs. Stephenson gave me last week. I am doing<br />everything I can on my end.<br /><br />I am quite certain that I was NOT made aware of these special arrangements at the<br />meeting with Mrs. Stephenson because after that meeting the main thing I researched<br />was opting out of the test, but while the State does allow that to happen, Union<br />County does not. Had I known there were other options, I would have pursued them.<br />I do everything I can to give my daughter a fighting chance. She is extremely<br />bright, but just does not have the skills to learn how to harness that intelligence.<br />Tate does have an IEP, but it primarily focuses on her lisp and what actions need to<br />be taken to improve her speech. It does mention her ADHD, but it is not the central<br />issue. I think once this is reviewed again at the end of the year, we need to do<br />something to get the focus more on the ADHD. Sure, I am concerned about her speech<br />too, but the ADHD seems to be the biggest stumbling block when it comes to her<br />education.<br /><br />I feel like her rights as a "special needs" child have been compromised and she has<br />been set up for failure. I also know that if she repeats 3rd grade she will be<br />bored by going over information she has already gone over and I think the<br />repercussions of that could be far more detrimental than we think.<br /><br />I'm am sure you will be hearing from me quite a bit in these last few weeks.<br /><br />Thanks for your time,<br /><br />Courtney Zepeda-Hawkes</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">(The principal emailed back and we have a meeting with her and the teacher tomorrow.)</span></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />**An IEP is an "Individualized Education Program" **</span> <span style="font-size:130%;"><br />You can read more about it here:<br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Individualized_Education_Program">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Individualized_Education_Program</a></span><br /><br /></pre>So far this year, Tate has made B's and C's on her report cards. Her main problems have been her concentration and ability to complete tasks on time. At one point her math skills were weak, but now it looks like her reading skills are weak. But if she fails one of the two sections of the EOGs, she will be held back. As I stated in the letter, there is one opportunity to retest. Beyond that, there is a meeting with the educators to discuss the situation and ultimately, the decision is made by the principal. Did I mention this was a NEW, interim principal?? Her predecessor left during spring break a couple of weeks ago. This just complicates issues more because this principal doesn't know Tate. What doesn't work in our favor is that Tate is one of the youngest kids in her class, it's easy for the powers that be to say she'll be fine if she's held back because she will still be with kids her age. That's a tough one to argue.<br /><br />I'm so tired of arguing. I'm so tired of having to fight tooth and nail. I wish I could find a teacher who was experienced with ADHD kids. I wish I could home school, but Tate needs the social interaction and gauging from how personally she takes things when we do homework together, I know it would never work. Not to mention, I have no idea what it will take to help her absorb and digest information.<br /><br />On a side note, I am growing more and more frustrated with Tate's teacher. The other day she told Tate (within earshot of other kids) that Tate will be in 3rd grade again if she doesn't pass the EOGs. I know Tate wanted to tell the class about her trip to England over Spring Break, but her teacher wouldn't let her. (Last year it was a requirement in her class.) Then yesterday, they were discussing space shuttles, since Endeavor is due to launch on Monday. Tate tried to explain that she has seen a shuttle launch, but the teacher dismissed her and told her not to talk when she was. Apparently, the opportunity to contribute to the conversation never came up.<br /><br />It's these sorts of things that make me wonder if the teacher is actually following any of the suggestions made by the psychologist? I'm thinking probably not. It seems like she treats Tate like an underachieving student. But I know, this is just speculative opinion on my part, I don't know what goes on in the classroom.<br /><br />I have friends who are educators and I hope I don't offend them. All I know is what I am going through.<br /><br />The Daytrana patches we started her on seem iffy, at best. Her teacher hasn't noticed any differences. One 10 mg patch apparently doesn't do anything. Two patches keeps her up at night. We haven't even tried 3 patches! We have started telling her to take them off at lunch, instead of when she comes home. But so far, we are in limbo. We are going to try for another month, then we are going to meet up with her doctor again.Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-57982216143337277712011-04-08T03:23:00.000-04:002011-04-08T03:24:45.798-04:003 AMWell, here I lay, 3 AM. I'm not sure what time it happened, but I had a grand mal seizure. I have a history of seizures. It started when I was 26. <br /><br />Everytime it's the same, I am awakened to Dom, who is desperately trying to keep me awake. I can only compare it to like my brain rebooting. I can't stay awake and I have no recollection of the seizure. My tongue is usually chewed to bits...the last one I had left me with a speech impediment for weeks. My limbs are usually too weak for much of anything. Tomorrow, I will be extremely sore from having my entire body tensed up. It almost feels like I'm drunk.<br /><br />I always have these in my sleep. I've had my head scanned, had a sleep study...but there are no explanations why I have a seizure disorder at all. I hate feeling out of control of my own body.<br /><br />I used to take medicine to prevent them. But stopped taking them when Dom and I separated. I guess it's time to work the medication back into my life.<br /><br />Right now, I literally cannot bring myself to roll over, I am that weak. I have to be up in a few hours. The biggest pain in the ass is that I am not supposed to drive for a month after I have one. I guess it's a good thing we are going to London next week, for a few weeks.<br /><br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-15264691070189129042011-04-03T21:13:00.002-04:002011-04-03T21:26:14.588-04:00Blog Games: Website ABC’s<p>The Rules:</p> <p>Type the ABCs into your browser’s address bar and list the first website that pops up for each. No cheating! Use the first website that pops up in your address bar! After you’re done “tag” five of your bloggy friends to do the same!</p><p><br /></p><p>A) Amazon.com</p><p>B) Beautycrunch.com</p><p>C) CNN.com</p><p>D) DListed.com</p><p>E) Ebay.co.uk</p><p>F) Facebook.com<br /></p><p>G) Gmail.com</p><p>H) HardCandy.com</p><p>I) IAmGlamourpuss.blogspot.com</p>J) etsy.com/shop/Jewelrybyglamourpuss (Nothing that begins w/J)<br /><br />K) Kayak.com<br /><br />L) Lamebook.com<br /><br />M) MyFitnessPal.com<br /><br />N) NYXCosmetics.com<br /><br />O) OCCMakeup.com<br /><br />P) photosbyglamourpuss.daportfolio.com<br /><br />Q) No Qs<br /><br />R) Regretsy.com<br /><br />S) SleekMakeUp.com<br /><br />T) ThePirateBay.com<br /><br />U) Ulta.com<br /><br />V) VogueWigs.com<br /><br />W) Wikipedia.com<br /><br />X) X17online.com<br /><br />Y) YouTube.com<br /><br />Z) ZenniOptical.com<br /><br />Whew, that was some work!! Enjoy!Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-82181576611884150992011-03-22T21:48:00.004-04:002011-03-22T22:27:32.613-04:00ADHD 18 Months Later...and more.Well, it's been about 18 months since my daughter, Tate, was diagnosed with ADHD. We've had her on the drug Strattera, which is not a stimulant, and it seemed to work well for a while. Over the past couple of months, we've noticed some changes. Tate's still struggling with reading directions and finishing assignments in school. The big thing looming overhead these days is the end of grade testing. Her teacher is really worried she will be able to successfully endure a 3-hour standardized test. And if she doesn't pass the test, she doesn't go to 4th grade. She's incredibly defiant about everything at home, which results in her feeling like we are coming down on her all the time. It feels awful knowing she is unhappy and not knowing what to do about it.<br /><br />She is still insanely picky when it comes to food and clothing. She has tried a couple of new foods over the past week, so that has been inspiring. But the clothes situation just seems to get worse and worse. It doesn't help that Spring has sprung and she really could use some new clothes. Tate got new shoes last week and it was one of the most excruciating experiences. She tried on EVERYTHING Payless and Target had to offer, but ended up settling on moccasins she didn't like the look of, but she did like the feel of.<br /><br />So, today her Dr. told us that he thinks we should try to find her an occupational therapist to work with the "sensory integration dysfunction." This would include the sensitivity to tactile things, textures of food, etc. This is good news because we were thinking she still needed a therapist, even though we were uncertain what good a therapist would be when it came to the issues that could make everyday life easier. At least now I have a direction to go in!<br /><br />We also decided on a patch called Daytana for Tate. It is a stimulant, but unlike Ritalin, there are no extreme highs, then lows once the meds wear off. She puts it on the AM and we take it off before dinner. Odds are, she won't even need them on weekends. This seems more favorable since she would fight taking the Strattera. Of course, we are going to monitor everything and make sure she is doing well. If any problems arise, we will contact her Dr. This wasn't an easy decision, but we are really desperate for "normalcy." <br /><br />So, how am I, you ask?<br /><br />I'm still suffering from depression. I still haven't totally unpacked from moving home. It's difficult that my husband works crazy hours and I have to do a lot of the parenting by myself. I have a hard time sleeping. And then I find myself crashing out on the sofa until lunchtime. I feel guilty and horrible about that.<br /><br />I'm back on the dieting thing. I'm using a cool website called <a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://www.myfitnesspal.com/">MyFitnessPal.com</a>. They have a app for the iPhone and it's really easy to track your exercise and caloric intake. I'm doing alright on the calories. But I know I could exercise more. I am just stifled by this depression and have the hardest time getting motivated. Then today I discovered I have gained weight and that was just like a punch to the gut. I know muscle weighs more and I have gone to the gym some, but it's still a letdown and I feel like I could do more. I just HAVE to make myself. I'm not sure how I will do it, but I will. My parents and Dom have all commented on how my face and mid-section have changed and that helps some. I think I'd be more motivated if I saw more changes.<br /><br />I'm a work in progress...what can I say?Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-15999548281558303162011-01-13T01:46:00.003-05:002011-01-13T02:24:09.162-05:00The Tale Of A ToeToes are something we really take for granted. We wake up with ten little piggies, we go to bed with ten little piggies. Occasionally they can provide amusement when you pick something up off the floor with your feet. You can decorate them all silly at the nail salon. But what do you do when your little pig went to market and never returned? I don't know. But this is a reality my father is facing tomorrow morning.<br /><br />If you don't know me so well, then you may not know that my dad has diabetes which has been treated off and on for quite a few years now. There have been varying degrees of seriousness when it comes to his condition. He went through spells where his eyesight was never quite right. Then he developed a wound, then later an ulcer on his big toe. This was about 3 years ago. He spent some time with a podiatrist, but without insurance, he couldn't keep it up for long. Then in November of 2009, he was in the hospital for a week seeking treatment for his toe.<br /><br />Two weeks ago, my dad told my mom that his toe smelled. Then he told us not to worry, he figured out the source, which was a big pus ball. But he refused to admit it was infected. We all know what pus is right? White blood cells...trying to fight off infection! We tried to get him to go to the ER, but he had excuses against that. We tried to get him to set up an appointment with a doctor but he had excuses against that. Living life without health insurance does that to you.<br /><br />In any event, his toe become so worrisome that he came to see a doctor he saw a couple of times after his last hospital stay. Fortunately, they set up an appointment for him to get into a wound care clinic today. While he was there and they were cleaning out the ulcer, a piece of bone came out. Yeah, I know...freaky.<br /><br />And before he could get too far on the road back to his house, the clinic called my mom looking for him and explained it was urgent. My mom got ahold of him and told him to call. The next time she spoke to him, she asked what was up? He said, "They are going to amputate my toe." My father always likes to mess with your head so my mom didn't believe him at first. But no, I only wish it was a sick joke. Tomorrow, they are going to amputate his toe.<br /><br />I suppose what's even more disturbing is that they are going to leave the wound open for a few days and see how the infection does. If it dwindles away, great. But if it lingers, something else is infected. Something else may have to go. My father has already said that he will not consent for anything else to be taken and that he refuses to be wheelchair bound. I'm upset that he would be so selfish and short-sighted...and while I understand his frustration(I felt suicidal when I was in the hospital in September), he has a family who loves him and needs him. My kids only have one granddad. And I don't want him taken away from them at such a young age, the way mine was. And the only thing that kept me going through my horrific hospital ordeal was my family. I did it for them...all of them. I cannot imagine life without my family, so it distresses me to see my dad speak so nonchalantly about leaving us all.<br /><br />Even though there are some dents in the armor, he is still my super-hero. If he goes, who will I look to when I'm a damsel in distress and in need of her daddy? My time with him isn't up yet. We still have many Mel Brooks movies to watch and laugh at together. We still have so many things to see and do.<br /><br />But I'm digressing...as for tomorrow...we will have to see what happens. Will he be able to walk? Yes. If it's just the toe, he can get an orthopedic shoe with a weighted prosthetic thing where his toe would be. This would help with his balance.<br />There's no reason why he couldn't go ahead and enjoy the rest of his years. I just really hope this doesn't completely break him. He was my first true love, but I think daddies are always that to their little girls.<br /><br />Please keep us in your thoughts. I need positivity. I'm feeling pretty low and weak. Thank you.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0V8aSSS3yv4_H39mYxDAkvgRB8WUwIyoKFmXeafnlHoAvfwKuYa3dxTnh1PtRPxWWCEseqeeZIRpslnaNv60JP2l0Y4qFINvLnBiFfk70BiP6mwmJ27tsIM7zPp0xn_M18OgbOR2NUdGm/s1600/zepeda.jpg"></a><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0V8aSSS3yv4_H39mYxDAkvgRB8WUwIyoKFmXeafnlHoAvfwKuYa3dxTnh1PtRPxWWCEseqeeZIRpslnaNv60JP2l0Y4qFINvLnBiFfk70BiP6mwmJ27tsIM7zPp0xn_M18OgbOR2NUdGm/s1600/zepeda.jpg"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 258px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0V8aSSS3yv4_H39mYxDAkvgRB8WUwIyoKFmXeafnlHoAvfwKuYa3dxTnh1PtRPxWWCEseqeeZIRpslnaNv60JP2l0Y4qFINvLnBiFfk70BiP6mwmJ27tsIM7zPp0xn_M18OgbOR2NUdGm/s320/zepeda.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561567351455783954" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >My sister, Heather, my Dad, my Mom and Me.</span></div>Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-85286253494274122792010-12-20T11:05:00.001-05:002010-12-20T11:07:27.644-05:00F*ck You, Cancer**Please note, I wrote in November 2008. I recently felt the need to dig it out , dust it off and put it on display again. Cancer has crossed my path yet again and it infuriates me.**<br /><br />Let me preface this with: anyone who is around me knows I have a foul mouth, sorry if my "sentence enhancers" offend and yes, it is indeed silly to rant in the form of an open letter to a disease...but I'm doing it anyway. Here goes...<br /><br /> <br /><br />Fuck you, Cancer,<br /><br /> <br /><br />You have touched my life in so many ways over the past few years or so and I have had it. In fact, I don't know anyone you haven't touched in one way or another. You are sneaky, you are relentless and your sole purpose is to create damage. You don't care who or what you damage...that doesn't matter at all. You do not discriminate...old, young, poor, wealthy, fit, not fit...it doesn't matter to you, you'll take what you can get...you fucking leech.<br /><br /> <br /><br />A friend of mine's Dad is having surgery for prostate cancer tomorrow. As I sit here, I am waiting to hear the results of the biopsy my sister had last week. You took my father-in-law from his family. You have danced in and out of my mother's life multiple times, taunting and teasing her to the point where she lives in fear that she will some day succumb to you in some way or another. She's had two scares from her doctor about you in the past year and even the simple thought of you has driven us all to distraction. You've robbed a friend of mine of his speaking voice. You tortured my cat who used to cry all night in pain from a tumor that we couldn't afford to treat. You killed my favorite postal clerk. Last, but not least, you ravaged Tate's friend's Mom and left her going for one reconstructive surgery after another in an attempt to restore her to the way she was before you fucked her up.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I despise you. I despise what you do. You create fear and panic, sorrow and dismay. Sometimes you're quick...too quick...you take people away before anyone can be prepared for it. My Mom's cousin was a sheriff in Caldwell county, but once he found out about you, he had less than a month to live. And sometimes you take your time and work your magic ever so slowly. You change, sometimes you feel like a little of this...but then you change your damn mind and decide to go for something else. Another one of my Mom's cousins just gave into her battle with you after having breast cancer and then battling other areas you decided to attack...until you set your sights on her brain, you son-of-a-bitch...how the hell was she supposed to contend with that?<br /><br /> <br /><br />I don't know what it is about you that I hate the most. Is it the fact that you are sneaky and almost always different...making you an impossible disease to eradicate? Is it that you destroy a person's sense of self? Is it that you rob children of their innocence and childhoods? Is it that you cut lives, that have so much left to be lived, short? Is it that you create a hysteria that makes us constantly search for ways to prevent you from entering our lives? Is it that people are so afraid of you that some go to such extremes as double mastectomies in the hope of never having to deal with you? People are willing to lop off any parts that you may be contaminating. They are willing to poison themselves, in ways no one on Earth would ever consider doing otherwise, in the hope that you will retreat. But are the people you've touched, and lived to tell about it, ever really free of you?<br /><br /> <br /><br />You don't care, you're a disease, what the fuck is it to you anyway? You doing your job and that's all you care about...everything else be damned. I swear, if you were a person, I'd get a posse together and we would kick your fucking ass...stomp you into a greasy spot. If only it were that simple. But since the dawn of modern medicine, you've stumped us all. I know that we'll cross paths again...since you're all over the place. But I can guarantee that my animosity for you will never wane.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Fuck you, Cancer!Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-25451721094048021052010-12-13T16:26:00.002-05:002010-12-13T16:45:52.962-05:00Driving Rant - Turn Signals & RoundaboutsThere is a new epidemic I find when I am out on the roads these days and it has prompted me to ask the question: when you are sitting at the steering wheel do you ever wonder what that stick that sticks out from the left side of the steering column does? <br /><br />If you've never really noticed it, you should try it out. Go ahead, give it a shot. If you flick it up, a little arrow points right. Flick it down and a little arrow points left. What does this all mean? It's a TURN SIGNAL. The idea behind this nifty little gadget is to alert people who are driving behind you to any turns you may be making. Since the majority of drivers are not psychic and cannot anticipate your every move, it's really a worthwhile invention.<br /><br />Usually, you want to signal as you are approaching the intersection where you are turning. If you turn the signal on mid-turn, it does no good for the poor driver behind you. <br /><br />BUT the turn signal isn't just for turns!! You can also use it for passing. It's a safety measure to let the people around you know your intentions. And with more and more people passing on the right, which is another rant in and of itself, a turn signal may draw attention to you and keep someone from pulling over into your lane.<br /><br />This brings me to my second point, in the US, there aren't that many roundabouts. There are some in the larger, older cities but in suburban America they are few and far between. Well, until now, that is. I am finding more and more roundabouts in the area I live in. <br /><br />Roundabouts are designed to keep traffic flowing at intersections. Unlike the four-way stop, drivers can just merge into the flow of traffic and go about their merry way. I go to England, the land of the roundabouts, once a year and have been exposed to some crazy roundabouts that consist of like 8 interchanging circles. But they work because drivers there know how to use them. <br /><br />When you approach a roundabout you turn on your right turn signal and yield to any oncoming traffic. Once you enter the roundabout, do not yield to traffic waiting to enter. As you approach the "spoke" where you are going to exit, turn your right signal. It lets the other drivers waiting to enter the roundabout know where you are turning off. That makes the difference between a stop and a yield and improves the efficiency of the roundabout and traffic flow. I know this all seems like common sense, but apparently it is not, gauging from how some of the bumpkins around here drive.<br /><br />I'm debating which irksome topic I want to tackle next...if you have any suggestions, feel free to give me a shout!Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-29738360360137841242010-10-29T22:49:00.000-04:002010-10-29T22:50:23.491-04:00My Evening Drive's Mix, kinda makes me miss mix tapes.<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HzxPpXfQ8qU?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HzxPpXfQ8qU?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" 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height="385"></embed></object>Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-22824748843879006322010-10-19T18:15:00.002-04:002010-11-15T01:00:38.394-05:00If I Didn't Have Bad Luck, I'd Have None...Holy Stoltz, it's been a long time since I last blogged. It's not that I've been lazy, I can assure you of all that.<br /><br />A couple of months ago, I developed a pain in my back that was higher up and between my shoulder blades. It was like a twisting knife in my spine. I chalked it up to stress, heaven knows there's no shortage of that around here. I had a few Facebook friends recommend that I get my gallbladder checked out. I put it off for a little bit because I thought that was something that happened to older people. Bear in mind, my only prior experience with gallstones was when my aunt had them when I was a kid...and everyone seemed OLDER then! <br /><br />I went to my regular doctor. He was worried it may be a massive kidney infection. But then decided it might be viral. He pushed around and found a tender spot on my belly. He knew I had the localized back pain. But he sent me to get my kidneys x-rayed.<br /><br />Well. Everything came back fine. His nurse called me on a Friday to let me know the cultures came back clear. I explained that I was still hurting, but she told me if I had any problems to call Urgent Care. Way to go making your patients feel like you care about them! I decided that was my last dealing with this doctor. He had treated me like a hypochondriac for a couple of years now and I simply got tired of it.<br /><br />I went to another doctor on the recommendation of another good friend of mine. He concluded it may be musculoskeletal (sp?) and sent me on my way with anti-inflammatory meds and pain pills. But the pain never really went away. I saw him the next day and finally suggested that he check out my gallbladder. I had all of the textbook symptoms. So he sent me to get a scan of my gallbladder.<br /><br />It was so bad, that I was immediately admitted into the hospital. Once I got into the room, it took 4 nurses to get my IV in because I was so dehydrated from not having any water for about 36 hours. I had two of them tell me my skin is particularly tough and hard to get through. What could I say? I'm an artist, I'm rough on them. I just knew that as long as the IV wasn't in, nothing was happening, so I tried hard not to panic.<br /><br />The surgery was on the second day. I really do like my surgeon, Dr. Ipapo. I trusted him implicitly. I can remember an injection in my IV, then it was lights out. When I came to, I felt really bad. I reached down and immediately knew that the surgery was not laproscopic, I could feel the big wound left across my abdomen. (And imagine my surprise when one of my nurses asked if I had had a mastectomy! It's like, "Woman, did you READ my chart!?!")<br /><br />From there it got worse. I realized that had stuck a tube in me to drain bile. Ick. Not fun. Then I was told that because there was so much infection and inflammation, that I would need a stint to make sure the bile goes where it should. The only problem was that it was a bank holiday weekend and no one was around to put in a stint. I was complaining to a nurse about it and she brought this gastrointestinal Dr in to talk (chastise). This Dr explained that my surgeon had called her late the night before trying to set up this stint thingy and that I should be glad that someone who isn't even on call would come in and do it. Yes, thank my lucky stars...and I'm so sorry to inconvenience you. You're a doctor, you save lives, you get calls at all hours...deal with it. She walked out while I was yelling at her.<br /><br />Around midnight that same night, I got the call that they were ready to put in the stint. I can remember being wheeled down to the ground floor and seeing the stint Dr. As I was wheeled into the operating room, the nurse asked the anesthesiologist how he was. In a very rude manner, he replied that he was tired because he had been there since the morning, blah blah blah. Made me feel like shit. So I told him that I had been trying to think of a way to thank everyone who had helped me, because I had been in so much pain before, then I started crying. He changed his tune then and explained that he was here for me...blah blah.<br /><br />The bitch about stints is that they have to be removed at some point too.<br /><br />That procedure went well. And almost every day I was sent to get a CT scan or X-ray. Turns out that I had a LOT of fluid building up on the right side of my body. My diaphragm apparently got punctured during the surgery and I had fluid above it and below it. Guess what, I needed a new drainage tube and bag coming out of me. Wooo. Not. This one was placed while I was in a CT machine and it hurt SO much...like lots of pins and needles. I was convinced when it was over that I had needles in me...it felt so bad.<br /><br />I can't remember when, but sometime, I got a PICC (<em>peripherally inserted central catheter)</em> in my upper left arm. It had to be done by a cardiologist and it's like a super-IV that goes straight to your heart, but would actually reduce the number of times I'd have to be stuck if I had blood drawn. Blood could be taken directly from the PICC. Meds can also be injected into it like a regular IV. At one point it was scary, I had two IV stands with stuff and sooooo many lines leading into the PICC that I my arm looked like a keychain with too many keys hanging off.<br /><br />Then there was the fateful night that I had a massive amount of pain that took my breath and jump-started respiratory distress. I was moved to another floor to an intensive care kinda ward. I was there for a week. Had more scans, more x-rays...then it was decided that I needed a lung puncture to drain some fluid out of my right lung. It's called sympathetic fluid, but there's nothing sympathetic about it.<br /><br />The day that was scheduled, my nurse had a student nurse at her side the entire shift. The student was so nice that she offered to go with me for the puncture, if it was allowed. She walked by me as I was wheeled to the room where it's done and she stood in front of me as I had to sit upright and held onto me so I wouldn't freak out too much.<br /><br />At this point I'd like to take a minute to say that I was terrified of having anything done to my lung. I had cartoonish/nightmarish ideas of what could happen and it really messed with me. <br /><br />They did the puncture on my back and through my ribs. It was kinda high, up towards my shoulder. He injected lidocaine first to numb the area...which is really a joke since it only numbs the surface and does absolutely nothing about the feeling of a foreign object entering your lung. Then the liquid was essentially vacuumed out. Pretty gross. But my student nurse rocked and I don't think it would have gone as smoothly without her. <br /><br />I kept having spasms around the area where the tube/drain on my side was. It hurt so much and was toe-curling. <br /><br />After about a week, I was moved back up to the floor I was on before. That was a good sign of improvement. I was on a million antibiotics, IV nutrients, treatment for what may have been a fungal infection, potassium and I had to take meds to try to restore the "good" bacteria that is in the digestive system. It was all so odd and seemed contradictory. <br /><br />Then there was this horrible day. My Dr told me that there was more fluid in my lung and this time, I needed a chest tube. And it was going to be done right then and there, in my room. I freaked. I was like a wild animal backed into a corner. They ended up giving me 14 units of morphine, but honestly, I didn't feel a bit of the morphine. Adrenaline is powerful stuff.<br /><br />My bed got raised up very high. I had two nurses at my left side, two at my feet and my surgeon at my right side. There was nothing I could do. Again, wimpy lidocaine was injected to help, but of course it didn't. It was a pain that was like anything I have never experienced before. And then the tube has to be pushed in more...more. Then stitches to keep it there. And this tube is not small...about and inch wide. All I can remember is primal screaming and nurses trying to talk to me and get me to breathe properly. Like I'm going to chit chat after I've been shanked...really?<br /><br />The chest tube was a whole new beast. I couldn't really walk anywhere because the box the fluid drained into was taped to the floor. Quite handicapping. I guess the tube was in for 2 or 3 days. Then it was time to take it out. Surely it couldn't be worse than putting it in...right? WRONG!! I was told to breathe in...then when I exhaled they yanked it out quite forcefully and threw it on the floor. Then they yanked the drainage tube that was in my belly. That was particularly gross because I could feel it...it was like a worm or a snake was wiggling through my guts. Ick.<br /><br />I made sure not to look at the stuff they left in my room, including the chest tube. I told a nurse all that stuff had to be gone by the time I got back from getting an x-ray. I just can't believe they left stuff all over. <br /><br />I am amazed that with technology and all of the advancements in medicine, so many procedures are still so barbaric and brutal.<br /><br />My days and nights were spent watching CNN and Bravo. I rotted my brain cells on every Housewives show there is. I had to be careful about what I ate and as you can imagine, hospital food isn't always the best. I was in almost constant pain. And about 2 weeks in, I just couldn't get comfortable in those hospital beds. I had many restless nights. <br /><br />The only thing that ever helped were the shots of dilaudid. I would look forward to my shot every time it was ready. You get a nice fuzzy warm feeling and since it would be injected into my PICC, my heart would be one of the first things to get warm. There was a taste that came along with it, but I cannot describe it. I knew that once I had dilaudid, I would have about 2 hours of peace. Pain meds were administered every 4 hours though, so the pain always came back. But there was a little peace.<br /><br />Slowly but surely, my Dr got me off my IVs. And then one day, I was deemed healthy enough to go home. Sure, I was going to still have to have a nurse at home...and we had the oxygen delivered in case I needed it, so it wasn't really the same as being at home.<br /><br />I went through a period where I cried multiple times a day. I feel like I must have something similar to post-traumatic stress syndrome. And I don't know if I'll ever drink Coke, Sprite or ginger ale again.<br /><br />My other drainage tube got removed about a week after I was released. That was a big relief. Nothing to make you feel like an old fart like a bag of your bodily fluids velcroed to you.<br /><br />Now, my scars are healing. I can breathe alright...have to slow down a lot if I get winded. But I still have a lot of pain at the chest tube site. It's right at the side of my breast, so my ribs are sore, there is sore breast tissue...my side feels like it's been kicked. I was taken off narcotics, but the new meds don't do anything. I'm picking up something new tonight, so I hope that helps.<br /><br />So, if you've wondered where I've been or what I've been up to...I spent 3 weeks in the hospital and have been at home, recuperating ever since.<br />Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-10089149003986807212010-08-21T15:51:00.004-04:002010-08-21T15:59:23.312-04:00Woe is Me...wah, wah, wah.Not a whole lot has happened. I am still having sweats and chills. The place where my back hurts still hurts. (Feels like trapped gas or a place that needs popped but won't pop.) While I am not sore all over from the vomiting anymore, my stomach feels like I've eaten glass since I've eaten so little lately.<br /><br />I have decided I'm not very thrilled with the response from my Dr. yesterday. A while back he started treating me like a hypochondriac and apparently hasn't stopped. My Mom suggested I come back and the woman I see up here later this week, because she has gone to Africa for some program to help others abroad. I may do that. I really like her, she is no nonsense.<br /><br />This all really stinks. I need to be at the top of my game this week with Tate starting school. I've had to cancel a couple of business meetings I am trying to reschedule. It's all just very frustrating.Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-68635333829700326892010-08-20T14:55:00.000-04:002010-08-20T14:55:22.663-04:00More Let's Play Dr. Games...Okay, what's wrong with me? This is not a question that warrants quirky, witty, smartass comments that I would usually find funny. I feel so bad right now, it would most likely upset me.<br /><br />If you've read my previous blog, you know I've had a trying week. The Dr. was afraid I may have kidney stones, so I got x-rays, no signs of kidney stones.<br /><br />But my body is still sore all over, I can only guess from all the vomiting I was doing. I am still running a low grade fever and keeping sweats and chills.<br /><br />I called my Dr. today for more insight, but they said that the urine culture came back clean, yet they still want me to finish the Cipro, just in case. And she said if I got worse, then I should just go to urgent care. I realize it's Friday and all, but this just came across like they are done with me...after all, "the doctor does have you on Cipro, meds for pain, meds for nausea and meds for sleep." What more could a girl ask for? I dunno, perhaps to find out what the cause of all this mess is? Tate starts school next week and I've got to be at the top of my game.<br /><br />I'm very frustrated and worried...and sweaty.Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-50468816535378383402010-08-18T18:50:00.002-04:002010-08-18T19:00:04.541-04:00Let's Play a Game of "House MD"...So, on Monday morning I woke up with a nagging pain between my shoulder blades. It kinda felt like trapped gas or like I needed to pop my back or something. But no matter how I contorted myself, no popping. And I tool Tums and Gas-X for good measure, but no relief there either.<br /><br />As the evening wore on, the pain grew increasingly worse...to the point it made me nauseated. I couldn't keep anything in my stomach and developed a fever. I didn't measure it, I was just going from the chills and sweats I was having.<br /><br />I didn't sleep much that night. And Tuesday morning, while dry heaving, I decided to go see the Dr.<br /><br />So, I went. He said they would check my urine for any signs of a UTI and then they'd do bloodwork if nothing showed up in the urine. The white blood cell count was slightly elevated. But what concerned him more was the amount of blood in it. (I didn't really notice anything out of the ordinary, visually. And no it's not that time in my cycle at the moment, either.) He said that since I had a low-grade fever of 100.6 that he'd go ahead and treat me for a UTI. He prescriped Cipro for that. Vicodin for pain. Phenergan for nausea and Ambien for sleep...Restoril was really not working for me.<br /><br />He also sent me to get an x-ray because he was concerned I may have kidney stones. But a few hours later, I learned that no stones showed up on the x-ray.<br /><br />For now, my back still hurts and I am sore all over from the vomiting. It feels like I've eaten glass, so I'm very cautious when I eat. I'm still having sweats and chills.<br /><br />So, what's your take on this?Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-47536739510359638462010-07-22T18:32:00.002-04:002010-07-22T18:54:14.903-04:00Eureka!!Well, it's happened. I'm almost 36 and I've figured out what I want to do with my life.<br /><br />Sure, I will still pursue make-up and photography, but it's not that easy to make these things a career when it is such a highly competitive field. There's a lot of feast or famine. And I really just need a steady, fulfilling meal. (Of course, after my last blog, I should probably say a low-fat, healthy meal!)<br /><br />Last weekend, we loaded up the kids and went to Charleston, SC. Dominic had a conference there, so we tagged along. The kids and I went to the aquarium, we all went to the open market, Folly Beach, then on Tuesday we went to the Children's Museum of the Lowcountry. <a href="http://www.explorecml.org">Http://www.explorecml.org</a><br /><br />This place ROCKED! It is an educational experience dressed up in the garb of a huge indoor play area! There are themed rooms and it's all designed for kids up through the age of 12. There's an art room with table after table of art supplies to dig into. There's a room that is a castle, complete with stonework, a second level, spiral stairs, dress up stuff, a puppet theater, a medieval kitchen...it was insanely detailed. Publix grocery store sponsors a mini grocery store, complete with check out areas and computers that scan the products. There's a water room with tons of things to do to get nice and messy, fortunately, smocks are provided and there is a set up to show the cycle of water...you know, evaporation to clouds to rain...that sort of thing. I could go on and on about this place. There's an area for toddlers. A big shrimping boat with nets, steering wheels, a mini kitchen and floors that wobble when you walk, to simulate the movement of a boat in the ocean. <br /><br />For me, it was so exciting to see a place that was completely hands on! There really wasn't much that was off limits for the kids. There were tons of kids running around, using their imaginations...it's such a pleasant change from seeing kids with gameboys securely fastened in their clutches.<br /><br />So it got me thinking. There really isn't anything like this in Charlotte. There is Discovery Place, which is more scientifically hands on. And there is Imaginon, which combines a public library and the Children's Theater. BUT there is nothing like this.<br /><br />I plan on touring some of the other Children's Museums around. There is one in Winston-Salem, Wilmington and Myrtle Beach. I've been going over their websites comparing and contrasting with the one in Charleston.<br /><br />The wheels are turning! I am fortunate enough to know lots of creative people and many teachers who can provide input. And my husband has a good idea of who I need to plan to talk to about sponsorships. But there is so much to do. I need a lawyer who specializes in non-profit organizations. I need to really research these other museums and the demographics of Charlotte. When I think about all I need to do, it's very scary. This is a huge project I never would've dreamed of undertaking. But it combines my love of kids and art and I can't help but think that it wouldn't be anything but completely worth it and totally gratifying.Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-52337422966429423622010-07-13T00:19:00.005-04:002010-07-13T01:03:59.396-04:00Confessions of a Fat ChickLet me preface this blog by saying that I will be speaking very frankly. I may even be considered offensive by some. I apologize if this is the case, but I'm a fat chick and I am allowed to be blunt, honest and realistic about it. I'm not condoning being ultra-thin or skinny. I am condoning being healthy.<br /><br />I'd also like to add that I am not fishing for compliments. People tell me I am pretty and I appreciate that, I really do. But I can look in a mirror...I can see what I look like. I know that if I were more healthy I could feel and look better than I ever have.<br /><br />On my vacation in the wild west, I got a wild hair when I was at the Ubehebe volcanic crater in Death Valley and decided to take the vertical 1/2 mile hike up to the smaller crater on the side of the volcano, called Little Hebe. It was very tough. It didn't help that I had on hiking sandals and not closed toe shoes, rocks were all in them. But I huffed and puffed and felt my heart beating out of my chest like it was going to pop...on more than one occasion. I stopped at two different points and almost decided to quit. I can remember calling down to my husband and kids saying that I just didn't know if I could do it. I was really scared I was going to have a heart attack or something.<br /><br />I persevered and finally made it to the top. I was very surprised to find that I was so overwhelmed that I burst into tears. Part of that was because I got to the top. Most of it was that I didn't die in the process.<br /><br />I had the very stark realization that I am seriously unhealthy and out of shape. I weigh less than I did when I had my kids, but not by much. To be completely honest and open, I am at 217 lbs.<br /><br />I've been wearing size 16 jeans for a while now. But when I recently picked up some capri pants and bermuda shorts for the trip, they were 18 and 20. The shorts were a little big, but they didn't have an 18. Holy shit...that was a wake up call.<br /><br />I am not going to have loads of lame excuses. I've not treated myself well over the past couple of years. Late night snacking and soft drinks are my worst vices. I put on 60 lbs in the past year alone when I was in my own apartment, feeling depressed and sorry for myself. I didn't care about much of anything.<br /><br />But now I do care. I don't even look like myself anymore. I'm shocked that I've not had people ask me when my baby is due. The only thin parts on my body are my wrists and my ankles. I don't see the point in being fashion forward when I feel like everything I wear makes me look frumpy. So, I live in American Apparel deep-V tee shirts because the v-neck is flattering and the sleeves come down just above my elbow and cover my upper arms. I usually stick to jeans that fall at the waist. I had stayed away from shorts because I hate the thought that they may creep up my thighs and do that icky bunching thing you see from time to time. The thoughts of that just makes me shudder.<br /><br />I have no idea what to do with my hair. I feel like trying to have a trendy shorter cut is a joke, I'm still overweight and far from fashionable. But having it long makes me feel really dowdy and frumpy.<br /><br />I suppose I simply cannot pretend to be okay with who I am right now. That's why I can't attempt to dress myself up like it's fine and I'm the norm. The only thing that can make me appear thinner is to diet in a healthy way and exercise regularly. Sure, America is a heavier nation in general. But that doesn't make it okay and we are kidding ourselves if we think it's more acceptable because overweight people are growing in numbers every day.<br /><br />I now worry about my blood pressure and the possibility of diabetes if I do not get myself under control. Both conditions run in my family.<br /><br />I want to teach my kids that I can be healthy and look and feel better. I want to set an example for them. My daughter has only seen me at a healthy weight in photos.<br /><br />I'm not going to go on any wacky crash diets or get myself an eating disorder. I need to change the way I think and the habits that I have. I'm not afraid of the hard work it is going to take. I just wasn't ready before. Food was way too comforting. Being asleep most of the day was the only relief I had from the depression that plagued (and still does to an extent) me. I have no plans to fit back into my pre-baby size 4 clothes. Ideally I'd like to be a size 8. I think anything smaller is unrealistic and would be too thin for me.<br /><br />I know I've made false promises to myself in the past about my weight. But I plan on going back to that volcano and kicking it's ass next year...without all the huffing, puffing and bursting heart.<br /><br />Later today, I am taking the first big step and talking to my doctor about my concerns. I'll keep you posted.Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072790759342456492.post-38272858998215146762010-07-12T15:57:00.002-04:002010-07-12T16:14:07.710-04:00Driving Rant - High BeamsOkay, as I've said before, I've been longing to write a blog about driving. I love to drive. I just got home from a 5800 mile road trip to California. But it's the other drivers who can make driving a stressful, rant-worthy experience.<br /><br />I'm not going to tackle all of my various rants about driving in one blog. It would be an epic read and I'd probably leave something out. So, I will write one here and there about one thing that irks me at the time. <br /><br />I have found that there is a problem, nationwide, when it comes to using high beam headlights. Every time I drive at night, there is always some moron tooling along, blinding everyone in sight. Apparently this is a topic that is no longer covered in driver's education. So, I'll explain it as simply as I can.<br /><br />**If you see a car on the road, ANYWHERE...then do NOT use your high beams. **<br /><br />It doesn't matter if you see headlights or tail lights, do NOT use your high beams. Sure if you're on a highway alone and there is no one there, then go for it. But if you come around a curve or crest a hill and see lights in the distance, shut them off. Driving out west, I came across some very long stretches of straight roads. I could see cars miles away. Many wouldn't shut off the high beams until they were right at me, which it didn't really matter then, I was already blinded.<br /><br />So, what if you are on an interstate that has a huge median in the middle of the road? Well, unless it is one of those concrete barriers that stand about 4 feet tall, then you still should NOT use your high beams if you see other cars. If it's one of those grass medians, I can still see you, you can still see me and you will STILL be blinding me. <br /><br />If you're in an area with street lights, then you definitely do not need to use your high beams. That's just redundant and unnecessary.<br /><br />The bottom line is that it's just plain dangerous, especially if you are on a two-lane road. And while this all seems like it should be common sense, apparently it is not. So please take note and be courteous to other drivers out in the world. It's really not an issue of one driver being against another one...I'm sure the incidents of road rage would drop dramatically if people simply looked out for each other.Courtneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10885634674404673714noreply@blogger.com0