Ninapintasantamaria's Blog











{February 28, 2009}   Breakfast

I don’t miss meals.  Ever.  So, today, I went and had breakfast with my mom, aunt, and sister.  You’ve all met my sister, she’s commented on here a few times.  Well, I had to relate the spiderpig story for Mom and E, and well.  Apparently, I get the “mood swing involving food thing” honest, cause this has happened to both of them, too.  They had a good, hearty laugh over it.  Loudly.  In the middle of Cracker Barrel.  My uncle has hidden certain favorite foodstuffs from my aunt (but not from himself, mind you, oh no, he doesn’t need to diet) and caught her re-hiding it after she found it too.  *sighs*

My husband has interesting friends.  We’ve established that.  He has this one friend who every time he comes over, he tests the door, and just walks in.  I finally told him today that someday it was gonna be bad.  One or both of us is gonna be nekkid one day when he walks in.  I really hope he’s not hoping for that.

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{February 27, 2009}   Apparently, people like my drivel.

I’m glad someone does!  If not, it would have been a real blow to my ego.  Several have left comments about my “uniqueness” or that I’m “interesting.”  I think these are polite ways of saying that I’m “not right.”  I get in trouble a lot for calling a spade a spade.  I just call it like I see it.  Ok, like in the case of a 17 year old patient I had once.  She was young and ignorant, and I mean in a bad way.  Each and every time she had the slightest twinge, she’d wake up everybody in her family and drag them to the hospital cause “This could be It!!”  This happened 8 times.  Seriously.  Not making this up, I promise.  Every time she came in, through luck of the draw, she got me for her nurse.  Well, getting close to her due date, she asked me during one of these many visits when I thought they’d be scheduling surgery.  I had no idea what she was talking about, since based on her records, she’d be having a natural delivery unless something dire occured.  She went on, and it dawned on me that she didn’t know how babies got delivered.  I took a deep breath and had to explain to her what her mother (most unwisely, considering the circumstances at hand) had left out of  “The Discussion.”  “Honey” I said, “The neck on the sweater there gets real stretched out.”  Crude, I know, but how else do you explain to a 17 year old kid how she’s gonna deliver a baby if she doesn’t even know how she got in that condition in the first place?  I ask you.  Yeah, I heard about it later from the supervisor.  I decided at that point that it was best if my patients were asleep.  I cannot be relied upon to behave myself for long enough to deal with patients that are mentally and physically mobile.  Most everybody I know tells me I’m funny, or that I’m a mess.  Again, southern for “incorrigible.”  I know I’m rotten.  I’ve pretty much had this problem ever since my vocal cords developed, so I’m used to it.  Those who have never had the pleasure of formally interacting with me are generally a bit put off at first, then I grow on ’em.  Sorta like a fungus.  I just have a sick sense of humor combined with a wicked fast tongue, which makes shooting off at the lip an artform in my case.  He, he.  My parents have just learned to shake their heads.



{February 27, 2009}   Hog-tie

I threatened to do just that to a doctor today.  He folded up his bloody gown and gloves and laid them on my desk.  Uh, gross!  So.  I educated him in linen hamper etiquette.  He told me I sounded like his wife.  I said “Really?  Your wife wants to hog-tie you with duct tape too?  Or tie a knot in a couple other things and hang you by it?  I can get really creative, but this was just the 1st thing that popped into my head.”  He decided to behave himself after that.  I get so tired of arguing with people.  My scrub nurse yesterday drove me nuts.   He kept putting trash in my sponge bucket, throwing stuff in the floor (I value my scrub nurses by how many times my ass has to bend over during the case.  He was worth -4.), and generally making an ass of himself.  I want a neat room that’s functional, safe, and convenient for everybody.  Is that really too much to ask?  I will never understand the goobers that walk in a room, rearrange everything to their satisfaction, where only they will be able to use it, and then scrub in and stand at the OR table the whole case.  I’m the one who has to work in the room, leave it where I put it!  Is this the mood swings from the clomid?  Or am I just grouchy?



I came out with this gem yesterday after my entire team at work informed me (in stereo, no less) that I was “not right.”  In the south, this is how we tell people that they are incorrigible.  Generally misbehaved, and they’d beat me, but they’re afraid I might like it.  And they would be right.  I was telling everyone about my obsession with all things Conway Twitty and Trace Adkins, and they had the audacity to laugh at me, as if that weren’t totally normal.  I’m so glad no man ever sang to me like Conway, cause I’d have put a price tag on my neck saying “Free!”  Do what you want, take what you want, I’ll be over here in the floor in a puddle.  Melted like the Wicked Witch of the West.  Ohh.  He was so pretty.  He’s a little bit dead now, but when he was alive, he was hot.  I have numerous Conway CDs in the car right now.  It was a bawdy, rowdy room yesterday.  The scrub nurse was talking about how he makes a dish called Husband’s Delight.  I informed him that I’d heard of that, but it didn’t have anything to do with cooking.  I made him turn very red.  It was so funny.  Anyway, that was just a spattering of what went on.  Like I’ve said before, the OR is like Vegas.  What happens there, stays there.  I work with some characters.  Course, I’m one of them, most days.



{February 25, 2009}   Clomid Chronicles, Take 1.

Ok, here goes.  Took my last Clomid today.  Could everyone be thinking pregnant/gestating thoughts and stocking up on baby dust for next week, please?  Oh, and though I would love them just the same, maybe just think one gestating thought apiece.  I’m kinda afraid of twin me’s running around.  My mother, on the other hand, would tell you I deserved it.  Well, you all know what I’m gonna be doing next week, so don’t expect a lot of posts.  I’ll be busy…. well, you know.  Oh, and I really haven’t had any side effects that I’ve noticed.  Do they come later, like during ovulation?  Did I miss something in the brochure?  Hmmm.  I’ll let you know.  Wait, I just thought of something.  My cookie search and rescue.  That coooouuuuuld have been a mood swing.  But I doubt it.



{February 24, 2009}   Spiderpig, Spiderpig.

Does whatever a spiderpig does.  Which in this case is climb up on the kitchen counter, reaching on top of the kitchen cabinets to get the cookies her husband stole from her hid from her put away for her.  Yeah.  It’s that time of year again.  Girl Scout Cookies!!!!!  Those Samoas are like f___ing crack.  I bought 4 boxes, and 2 are already gone.  Yeah.  He caught me climbing on the counter when he wouldn’t get off his sneaking, lying ass perform his husbandly duties and get them down for me.  He then started singing that song, making me heartily ashamed of myself (for about a second, until I FRIGGIN’ GOT MY COOKIES!)  He has this highly irrational fear that I’ll sit down and consume all 4 boxes at once.  And he also has delusions of grandeur that he can hold them over my head for (ahem) “favors” too.  I don’t have a clue what gave him that idea, either. *wipes chocolate off face guiltily*

It’s official.  My husband is trying to pimp me out (to himself) for cookies.  Spiderpig.  My new hooker name.  Think I’ll make any money?



On one of those shows about “Caught in the act,” or something.  Today in the grocery store, he was rubbing his ass on everything, trying to scratch without scratching, per se.  Then he started scratching with his hand.  Now, in the U.S., they actually watch everything with the “eye in the sky,” and then they’ll send the video in to win for money.  I warned him of this, and that just made it worse!   He started mugging for the cameras, making straining faces, etc.   He’s really rotten.  Seriously.  By this time, I’m laughing unintelligibly, trying to get him to stop before they threw us out of the store and we had to eat hot dogs again.  I then told him he was going to get a double mention because after scratching his ass, he then began fingering the cakes and cheeses in the deli.  {Voice announcer:  Remember the guy scratching his ___?  Here he is again, after walking all around the store, fingering the cakes and cookies your children will be eating tomorrow at the birthday party!}  Rotten to the core.  This is the shit that’s gonna give me gray hairs.



{February 22, 2009}   Quick, self-evaluation!

Ok, been on the C-med now for 2 days and the only way I feel different from any other day is that I’m snotty and sniffly.  But I started that before I took the C-med.  I never had bad periods, maybe the stuff just enhances what’s already there?  Like maybe I won’t get the hot flashes, night sweats, and mood swings?  Who knows.  We’ll see, I guess.



{February 21, 2009}   Smiles

Ok.  I called the pharmacy this morning since you all had such great advice, and you know what they told me?  They said that without insurance, my prescription was gonna be $9!!!!  Why didn’t they think to tell me this 2 days ago?  I’ve had more than my fair share of moments with this pharmacy.  Maybe I should switch.  The 1st time I couldn’t get the guy behind the counter to speak english long enough to answer my question.  (I think he was from Zambia or somewhere.)  The next time, I went to refill my husband’s blood pressure meds and the PHARMACIST couldn’t remember what drug class they were all in.  He was afraid my husband was taking too many of the same kind.  (He wasn’t.  I was the one who reminded the guy of the correct class.  Scary, huh?)  Then, 2 days ago, the stupid woman on the phone didn’t bother to give me the information on my prescription.  *sighs*  I am very grateful to God for coming through on this one, but do I have to do all the work when it comes to righting common sense?  Is that what I missed in Sunday School?  Smiles.  I’m getting my meds!  Screw the insurance!  Thank you, Jesus.



{February 20, 2009}   February 20th.

This time last year, I was blissfully unaware I was already pregnant.  I had conceived 10 days earlier.  I’d just turned 29.  This time last year, I was full of hope for the future.  I was so excited about trying for a baby.  I never dreamed I’d have an anencephalic pregnancy, or ever be infertile.  My family is huge!  And everybody is fertile.  Hell, some of them are so fertile, they had babies before they even got married, or had jobs, or graduated high school!  My one pregnancy was a miracle, and it got taken away.  I don’t understand, and I’m so scared it’ll happen again.  I can’t do this again.  I simply can’t .  Please God, make this happen for me.  Please help me get pregnant.  And have the baby.  And get to watch it grow up healthy and strong.  Please take away my fear and my envy of others.  I know I’m coveting, which is a sin, but could you help me with that too?  I’m sorry for screaming, cussing, hollering, and being pissed off in general, but I need help with all of that too.  I want so badly to feel her moving inside me again.  I want to feel happy again.  I want to feel hopeful and excited again.  My husband keeps talking about a really great vacation this year and I just don’t care.  It seems like no big thing since we can’t take the baby with us.  It just seems like my life is worthless without a baby.  I don’t know why.  It wasn’t that way before.  I was so happy and bubbly and fun before all this happened.



et cetera