Vasovagal Syncope

Last night I went to a “fun raiser” to support the Whittingham Cancer center. I thought that it would be a nice thing to do since they have done so much for me (though I am not very thankful for the boob burning) they are all nice people and were very kind to me in my hour of need. The event was a wine tasting, with several different restaurants present cooking delicious food. (shout out to B.J. Ryan’s for the excellent pulled-pork sliders)

We meandered around tasting food and wine at all the stations but by the time we gathered to hear the speeches from hospital V.I.P’s I was fanning myself furiously with my tiny paper napkin. I had been having pretty severe hot flashes all night and at this point, I was feeling pretty miserable. Things went from bad to worse in about 30 seconds. I began sweating profusely and my vision started getting black around the edges and dotty. I whispered to K “I don’t feel well. I feel very light headed!” At least, that’s what I think I said as I immediately passed out cold, striking my head on the marble counter top as I fell. (K says it was very hard and that the sound was so loud in the room)

This was my first attempt at fainting. I’m hoping that I pulled it off well; though K says it was a very dignified faint so I’m taking his word for it. Evidently, I was out for about 2-3 minutes and K thought I wasn’t breathing which scared him to death. I came to very confused, wondering why a million people were calling my name and slapping my face.(very gently) All of the 25 doctors at the event, (Excuse me, is there a doctor in the house?) made it their business to resuscitate me while we were waiting on the ambulance. Yes the ambulance came, and we proceeded with all pomp and circumstance out the door, past the crowd of attendees, and into the ambulance for a ride to the hospital, with me trussed up on a back board like a Thanksgiving turkey, neck enclosed in a cervical collar.  

I went to the hospital, had a barrage of tests, i.v. fluids and found out that nothing is wrong with me and that I hadn’t cracked my head. My doctor said it was the “perfect storm” of events for fainting, hot room, hot flashes, standing for a long time, etc. One of the oncologists who had attended to me post fall came by the E.R. to see how I was and one of the very lovely VP’s of the hospital (whose speech I interrupted with my fall) came by as well and held my hand while I got my i.v. I am a huge baby about things like that, even after all the surgeries.

I went home with a lump the size of a lemon on the back of my head, a possible concussion, and the sweet sound of this; as she was holding my hand, the VP said to me, “Oh, as they were rolling you out, we were all commenting on how cute your shoes were.” Take me to the hospital fireman, my work here is done! Laters.

Recommendations

A few of my favorite things right now:

Tom’s Shoes- comfy, cute and such a great cause. You can find them here. www.tomsshoes.com

Sally Hansen- Salon effects nail polish strips that last about a week. Adorable prints! Also available in chic, fun colors. I love these because I **hate** waiting for nail polish to dry. These go on quick (the first time took a bit longer, after I figured it out, a breeze) I buy mine at the local drugstore. http://www.sallyhansen.com/products/nails/nail-color/salon-effects-real-nail-polish-strips

Urban Decay Eye Shadow primer- for real, use this and your shadow and liner will stay put ‘til the end of the day!! I like Sephora so I buy it there to get the freebies. http://www.sephora.com/browse/product.jhtml?id=P284716&categoryId=B70

Adorable dresses for any taste (cute swimsuits and things for little girls too) www.shabbyapple.com

In The Spring

Yikes! I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been emotionally cranky. In my head, the point of my blog is to be inspirational and humorous. I’ve recently felt that I was drifting off that a bit because of my internal emotions and I thought I would just stop and center and see if I had anything left to say. I guess I do. Or I’m pretending to at least. It’s hard to stomach the fact that you might have lost your “inspiration and humor.”

Our family shared a nice Easter together and it was the first warm, sunny day in a long, long time. I industriously tried to take my Sunday nap, but it was so warm out that I took the dog for a long walk instead. I **love** warm weather! Here we are in our Easter finery, in case you want to see.

As we walked into the church in the midst of the birds and sunshine, I fervently said, “Thank you Jesus for such a nice warm day!” Sher looked at me and said, “Mom, it’s not Jesus, it’s Mother Nature.”  Ha, that kid! Laters.

Socks

Sometimes late night in the basement, it’s just me and the washer and dryer; the washer chugs along, whompa, whompa, whompa, and the dryer whirs along right beside. I spend my time there folding clothes and sorting clothes and looking at stacks of junk stored haphazardly that we don’t really need. My least favorite part about laundry is folding socks. I always leave that part to the very end and even then I try to put it off as long as I can, then I just sigh really loud, shake myself and then go ahead and get it done. But I still don’t like it. Socks are a big mystery at our house. We buy lots of socks, yet somehow, no one ever has any. Most mornings, the boys go from bedroom to bedroom looking to see who has socks available and there is usually a rumble over who gets the last pair. I suppose that part of the problem is that no one likes to come down to the basement to pick up their clean laundry; I do my part by washing and folding (even though I don’t like it) and then the clean clothes often sit, waiting on the appropriate child to come and claim them.

Last week while folding, I found myself exasperated because the piles of clothes were getting large and I had reminded the kids but still, no one had showed to pick up clothes. I was especially irritated because just 15 minutes before, K had told me that we needed “to buy socks.” I was alone in the basement thinking,” If they need socks, why don’t they just come down here and get them? They need socks, here are the socks they need, but they don’t have them because they haven’t come for them.”

In the quiet basement, God reminded me that he works like that too. He has good things for me, folded up and ready, but if I don’t pick up my stuff, he can’t give it to me. The socks are ready and waiting whether my kids pick them up or not, and so is God’s grace and provision. He is there working for me (for my good) even when I don’t accept or acknowledge it. God never stops caring for me and never stops matching up things that I need. I like thinking about all the socks God has folded for me just waiting for a pick up. Laters.

Coffee Break

Today, like a direct snub from the cosmos to me, everyone on the train (except me) was sipping from a hot cup of coffee and my seatmate was very elderly. I seriously contemplated snatching his coffee and running because I didn’t think he could catch me.  Yes, his coffee smelled that good. He must have sensed my wicked intent because he kept giving me furtive glances, and he moved across the row as soon as a seat became available. As I walked to work, I called K and told him the story and he mentioned how I might be the kind of person, who in an apocalypse kills/maims other people solely to hoard and drink the last bits of remaining coffee. I couldn’t deny it, and in fact the only other person that I would be afraid of in the coffpocalypse would be my mother, who might love coffee even more than me. I suspect that she might have already hurt a park ranger for his coffee once when we were camping and my dad forgot the coffee pot. All I know is that there was no coffee to be had, she disappeared, and then there she was, smugly sipping a steaming, white, to-go cup. I can tell you, we children gave her a wide berth that morning and minded our p’s and q’s.

 I was able to restrain myself until I got the coffee pot going at work, but, in the coffpocalypse, it’s everyone for themselves!! Laters.

It Was The Right Time

For almost two years, I’ve lived in my current house. The walls are white because it’s a rental and I hate them. What’s my ideal color scheme? Think the Caribbean, vibrant blues, bright pink, rich yellow, purple….birds of paradise and peacock feathers; I love color.   Every time I pass a white wall (which is often because I live there) I think, “ugh!!” I almost painted last year but things were in a toss-up whether we would stay in the house or not, and I thought of all the work involved and the repainting if we moved, so I just decided to take a nap instead. But sometimes the heart needs things that it really doesn’t need. Sometimes we need adventure and excitement and things that don’t make sense except to make us happy. Sometimes we need to paint things, even though tomorrow we may be moving on. It took me almost 2 years to realize how happy that one simple act would have made me, but I will remedy that this weekend. I am painting.

Addendum: I wrote this last week and my mom came for an unexpected visit over the weekend and we painted. I am happy, happy with my new turquoise kitchen. **smiling**

Laters. 

I Bear-ly Slept Last Night

It’s often nice to have someone to sleep with, unless that someone is a cover-hogging, black bear type. Sleeping with my hubs is like goat wrestling at the rodeo. It sounds like fun, but sometimes it isn’t.

K has a bad habit of cover stealing. He also pulls the sheets untucked from the end of the bed. Sometimes at 2 or 3 in the morning, I wake up, unable to untangle my legs, completely encapsulated in a large king size sheet that has no beginning or end. (I can’t sleep with the sheets like that, so I am forced to re-smooth and re-tuck right then and there or else I would lie awake all night thinking, “the sheets are untucked, the sheets are UNTUCKED!!!” 

And though we have a king size bed, we typically use very little of it. I lie on a miniscule 5 or 6 inch portion right by the edge and he lays on me. I figure that we could easily go to a twin, open our bedroom up space wise, and add a latte machine in the corner. In addition, he has the core body temperature of a small black bear. I appreciate the waves of heat in the winter when I have cold feet, but most of the time it feels like sleeping while hugging a space heater set on high. And now with the Tamoxifen induced hot flashes, it borders on sleeping with a space heater, set on high, vacationing in Dante’s Inferno, in the hot season.

At times to garner a little relief, I kick him (softly, oh, so softly) in the leg so that he will move over. And he always does the same thing; he sits straight up in bed and in a puzzled voice says, “Babe, why did you kick me?” I usually answer something witty like, “just for the fun of it,” but my reply doesn’t really matter- he never remembers any of it in the morning anyway. And besides, I know, that he knows why I kicked him, it’s just a little game we play.

 I suppose it’s no coincidence that as he often reminds me; his love language is “touch” while mine seems to be “giving (soft) kicks in the leg.” Laters.