Wednesday, May 27, 2009

The Dilemma

Yesterday I called the genius doctor back to complain that my ankle is still torturing me. A few friends have suggested I get a second opinion, but frankly, I don't really have the money or the time to go see another doctor. It was already a considerable whip to see the doctor the first time.

After waiting all day for the doctor's office to call me back (typical), the nurse calls me back and asks, "Are you still nursing?"

And here is the moment of truth.

Gabriel is down to nursing once a day at night. It's not for very long, nor is it really of any nutritional value to him. But, selfishly, I'm not ready/not wanting our sweet little sessions to end. I know that once they do, the ability to rock Gabriel to sleep, to have him be still and calm while I sing lullabies to him will come to an end. It would also be the end of a chapter of Gabriel's story of growing up.


I am in a vast amount of pain. I am on the verge of amputating my foot. These drugs would give me some relief, and allow me to get back to the gym.

So.... do I hold on a few more weeks for those sweet little moments? The ones that I'll NEVER get back? Or, as I thought I was doing last night, nurse him ONE LAST TIME and then get some relief?

My answer to the nurse was....


I am done nursing.

A little white lie so I could have the medication on hand when I did stop nursing. But when will that be?

Stuck. Stuck. Stuck.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Can I at least get front row parking?

The doctors office visit was, let's say, interesting. Thankfully I was able to get a friend to watch Gabriel at the last minute. And good thing too. I don't think I would have lasted long at the doctor's office with him, especially since I had to be there for almost TWO HOURS!!!!!!!!

Seriously, health care professionals, are you trying to piss everyone off? I wait for eons in the regular waiting room, and finally you call my name. I think, YES! I'm up! I've been patient, reading a good book to pass the time (Pillars of the Earth, if you're interested...very good), so I'm not too irritated yet. In fact, I feel a little bit of excitement and anticipation in seeing a doctor. For me, there has never been fear. I actually look forward to our 5 minute long, $150 chats. But after being escorted back to an even tinier waiting room, I expect to be seen fairly quickly...otherwise, WHY CALL MY NAME IF YOU AREN'T READY TO SEE ME?

Super-not-so-friendly-I-wish-I-had-another-profession-nurse-Lisa takes my vitals, gripping about this and that. After finding out when my last period was and learning that my blood pressure is normal, she slaps that super fake smile on her face and says that stereotypical phrase of, "The doctor will be into see you in just a moment." Just a moment...ha.

As I sit on the squeaky exam table, legs dangling over the side, I think, I wonder if she's going to tell me my foot's fractured. Maybe I'll have to wear an air cast. Ooh! Maybe they'll take an xray or two. I wonder what's going on with my knees...Then 10 minutes, 20 minutes, 25 minutes pass... I'm eyeing my purse sitting on the opposite side of the room, containing my book. I thought the doctor was ready to see me. What the heck? I hesitate on moving from my perch. Not only do I not want to wake the dead with the squeak of this table (remember, it's a sin to make noise at the doctor's office), but was quite painful to even hop up here and will surely be painful to get back down and then back up again. But it's approaching a 30 minute wait now...I'm starting to die of boredom, wondering if that's a diagnosis she'll put on my chart. Ah, screw it. I hop down and grab the book and decide to sit in the more comfortable chair on the other side of the room. Just as I settle back into the dark tale of Tom and Ellen, in comes Dr. Henderson. I've now been at the doctor's office for an hour and a half.

The next thirty minutes are full of painful stretches, three xrays, and more waiting. And the verdict, you ask? I'm old and bruised. Huh? I'm 28. How is that possible? According to this super smart genius with a medical degree, I have degenerative arthritis in both knees and a very badly bruised ankle.

Okay, doc, is there anything I can do about it? Pain meds perhaps?

Oh no, silly 28 year old. No pain meds for you. You're still nursing your son, so you're going to have to live with it. You need to stay off those knees for three weeks.

Oh, and no more running for you.


But joining the geriatrics at the gym for Aqua Fit is an super alternative. Thank you for your $20 copay. Our office will be happy to collect the other $150 from your insurance company...hope you've met your deductible.

*sigh* I wonder if I can start getting my 10% discount at Kohls and IHOP...

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

I wish my doctor made house calls

It's officially been a week since I screwed up my knees and my ankle. To top it off, I stubbed my pinkie toe in a door frame this morning. How's that for karma? I'm off to see the doctor this afternoon at 4:30. Hopefully after an x-ray or two there will be some news on what's going on and if I can get back to the gym. In the interim, I've been throwing around the idea of going to water aerobics. However, the idea of joining the geriatrics at 9:00am makes me feel a little odd. It may be my only option though until these other aches and pains heal. Heck, I'll probably fit in with my arthritic knees and bum ankle. I'll worry about that tomorrow. For now, I have a great appointment with Dr. Henderson to look forward well as waiting in a small room full of sick people with a one year old who has a TON of patience...this is going to be a fun afternoon.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

A Wee Bit Discouraged

I started going back to the gym at the end of last month. I'm really trying hard to get my fat butt in shape. So far, I've been doing good. I'm taking a stab at running (an exercise I have previously loathed) and it wasn't going too bad...until I woke up this morning...and I wanted amputate my legs off. My knees are killing me and my ankles aren't really enjoying any weight being put on them.

I understand that when you get started with a fitness program, there is a high probability that you will experience some pain. But this is not "gain-pain" know, the kind that you know is just your body getting used to slap in the face to get in shape. No, this is "ouch, I don't think I'm supposed to hurt there" pain.

So I'm a little discouraged. I tried to rationalize the situation and say maybe this was God's way of saying, "Running isn't for you..." However, when I told my two best friends my theory, they said, "Ah, no. That's not what it means. It means you need new shoes." So, after wrestling with this discouragement, I think they're probably right. If I shell out $100 on a pair of shiny new Asics or Nike's, then maybe my fitness journey will continue with less pain. Maybe...I'm trying to be optimistic. I'm still holding out hope that God will give me another sign that running isn't a good idea. One can dream, right?

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Precious Moment

I've been feeling smug about the fact that my baby doesn't snuggle with me. He's a typical boy. Always on the go, not wanting to be still (except to watch the occasional Baby Einstein DVD), being obsessed with tearing my kitchen apart. Sometimes I just want to hold him and have him hold me back, to cling onto me like a little koala. Instead, he usually leans far away from me, begging to get down and crawl away from me as fast as he can. It's as if he's saying, "Not now, Mom. I have more important things to do."

Deep in my heart, I've been praying for just a few moments of attention from him. Everyday he demands my attention, but this time, I'm demanding his. My attempts have been futile...until his birthday.

The night of his birthday, after nursing him for a few minutes, I pulled myself up from the rocking chair and held him, expecting the squirming to start any minute. Just as I was about to lay him into his crib, he did something unexpected. He laid his little head on my shoulder and I felt his little fingers grasp onto my t-shirt. He was snuggling me. I held him a little tighter, hummed a lullaby, and fought back the tears. Thank you, God, for my son. Thank you for creating us to be affectionate. Thank you for this precious moment that I will forever cherish.