You Remind Me Of The Babe

You remind me of the babe
What babe?
The babe with the power
What power?
The power of voodoo
Who do?
You do
Do what?
Remind me of the babe

--David Bowe as The Goblin King, Labyrnth

November has been a long, long month. Things seem to have gone in circles and I think we've finally broken the cycle.



Critter got sick in October with an enlarged lymph node. Not too worry, the bump on her neck went down pretty quickly but it took two trips to the doctor and a prescription of antibiotics to do it. And just when we thought we had it beat, November rolled in with another bout of it.



This time, though, the doctor said to wait it out--drink fluids, eat right, sleep lots. We tried that for a week with no sign of the lump going down. And now it hurt so much that Critter was having a hard time sleeping. After the third night of practically no sleep, the doctor finally prescribed some antibiotics. This time, though, it didn't seem to help. A trip to the Emergency Room got her a different prescription. A trip to the Ear Nose Throat doc got her a third, as well as more blood drawn and CT scan. It's Thanksgiving and she's finally finishing up her fourth set of antibiotics. One more doctor's appointment next week and I think we'll be finally over it.



Last weekend was the first that all three of us felt good enough to go out for some fun. Sunday morning we hopped in the Tink Tank and drove downtown to a hole-in-the-wall donut shop (pun intended) called VooDoo Donuts. Donuts come in a variety of flavors and, er, shapes... You can even have your wedding performed there!



CrafterKat picked out her two favorites coated with kool-aid and tang. I picked a pumpkin spice filled donut, frosted like a football (later examination showed it was supposed to be a pumpkin--it honestly didn't look like that to me, though). And Critter? She went for the Big Daddy, a dinner plate sized glazed donut.



We took our pink box up the street and stopped at Stumptown Coffee. As a non-coffee drinker (I know...blasphemy), this was my first adventure here. CrafterKat loves their Americano drink; Critter had a mocha thingy (I dunno...). We sat in the back on little couches next to the DJ record player mixing section.



After we arrived, a hip Portlander stopped by our table, depositing his jacket and a Stumptown coffee mug on the glass table top. "Shhhh," he warned, and pulled out a Starbucks coffee and poured it into the mug. "Don't tell anyone." We laughed and watched him leave to check for his friend.



He shook his head, smiling, when he returned. "Well, aren't you ready? You've got your VooDoo dounuts. Your Stumptown coffee. What's next? Shots?"



We laughed. He turned to Critter who was starting her giant glazed donut. "What are you, twelve? I'll bet you've got the flask hidden in your jacket..."


Normally, I would have taken pictures of this whole exchange (the funky voodoo and Elvis decorations at the donut shop, the DJ mixing table at Stumptown) but my camera died in early November. More like, fried.


Best Buy said I could return the camera if I had the original receipt. I didn't. Which didn't make me a Happy Camper. But guess what? Best Buy will print up a new receipt for you and, after a few hours rounding up the rest of the camera, I was able to take it in to the Geek Squad for repair.


Geek Squad sniffed the camera. I'm not joking. "Smells like something burned inside," he told me. And he sniffed again. Nose hairs and all. At this point, I was wondering if I would have to douse the whole thing in alcohol after it was working again. "No problem, this is totally covered." With snot, I thought.


He shipped the camera up to Seattle for replacement parts and service, promising that it would be ready in about two weeks, probably before Thanksgiving, even. Sunday, when we returned from downtown, Geek Squad called. "Yeah, we weren't able to get replacement parts. You'll have to come in and pick out a new camera."


"Um... Any camera?" I asked.


"Well, something comparable."


"And if Best Buy doesn't have something comparable?"


"Well, then you'll get an upgrade. Just talk to the camera department people. They can help you find something."


I took my HP camera box into Best Buy, bypassed the camera guy, and looked for the 10 Megapixel cameras. My 2006 camera had that, and a 3x zoom, plus a lot of "scene selection" choices when shooting (e.g. beach, snow, nightlife, portrait, landscape, etc.). I finally found the camera that had these features and seemed sturdy enough that it didn't feel like it would fall apart on me after six months.


So our circle is all healed--Critter is feeling a whole lot better, we've got a new digital toy to play with, and we've sampled some of Portland's best (if not weirdest...).


Take care and Happy Thanksgiving!


~ The CrafterGeek Family

Stone Soup

Several days after I had sent that e-mail to the Evil PXE, I found myself in the doctor’s office telling first the nurse and then my physician my symptoms. “It feels like there is a steel stake right through my rib cage,” I finally said, pointing to the middle of my chest. “And I’m not sleeping well.”

After pushing on my stomach (presumably the spot where the gall bladder is located), my doctor agreed to send me for an ultrasound. They’d use this one to compare against the one I had taken previously. Five years ago.

That evening, the scheduling nurse from my doctor’s office called. “I’ll go ahead and call the surgeon on Monday morning.”

“So, I need to have my gall bladder removed?”

“Yes.”

Monday I was told to see the surgeon the following Monday. I spent the week trying to be really good with my diet but ended up having two more attacks during the week. This time, they were occurring in the morning and my lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with me. I called my Mom, the Social Butterfly, to see if she could come up when my surgery actually gets scheduled. She assured me she’d be there but I should try not to set it for June 1st or June 5th as she had appointments on those days. “Well, I figure it will be either be at the end of the month or after our vacation in the middle of June. Shouldn’t be a problem."

Monday came and CrafterKat and I left for the early morning meeting with the surgeon. I explained my symptoms to the nurse. Then the Surgeon-In-Training. Then finally the doctor. He came in with an old 50’s textbook with illustrations of the gall bladder and how they would remove the broken organ. “It’s moderately distended and should come out soon. Have you eaten anything today?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Great. I have an opening at 3pm today.”

Um… Wait… TODAY?

I called my Mom when I got home. “What are you doing today, Mom?”

She paused, piecing the clues together and finally yelled, “Today?! TODAY?!”

I called work and informed my co-worker that I’d be out the rest of the week. My mother arrived a few hours later and drove me to the hospital. When we found Admitting, the nice lady there had me on her list. “What are you here for?”

“Gall bladder.”

“Oh. A mumble-mumble-oscopy?”

“I don’t know… They’re removing my gall bladder.”

“Oh, we get those and colonoscopies all the time. You sure you don’t want one of those, too? A 2-for-1 deal?”

I assured her I didn’t.

Needless to say, the surgery went well but I don’t really remember anything after being wheeled into the operating room and sliding over onto the thin bed. I awoke, curled up on my side, to my Mom’s voice.

I found out later that the surgery had taken longer than expected as I had lots of adhesions and a hazelnut sized stone in one of the ducts. The rest of the week was spent in a Vicadin haze, eating soup and jello, and snuggling cats who couldn’t understand why they couldn’t flob across my tummy as usual.

Thanks to all my friends and family for their kind thoughts, help, and numerous flowers. I’m very happy to be back at work and in good health!

Papa was a rolling stone

Been a bit quiet on the blog front... But there's been a reason. Here's an e-mail I sent to the Evil PXE a few weeks back.

To: Evil PXE
From: JewelGeek
Sent: Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Subject: Just a heads up...

Hey Evil PXE,

I believe I'm losing the war with my gall bladder...

I don't know if you remember, but my doctor diagnosed me with having gall stones a few years back. He said surgery wasn't really an option at the time because I didn't have very many and I should be able to control the gall bladder attacks (vicious gas bubbles that made me want to puke or caused me such pain in my chest that I thought an alien was going to pop out) with a better diet. I did that and it helped.

I got to the point where I could sort of tell when I'd reached my 'bad food' threshold--I'd cut back or not eat the troubling foods and I'd be fine, staving off another attack. I can't eat Nonna's pizza, for example, unless I've been very, very good. Now it's sort of all pizza in general. Sigh.

I've had at least three gall bladder attacks in a week. Last night I was lucky to get about four hours sleep. And I woke up twice from that when I discovered that one of the new cats had peed on my comforter.

I'm weary. I'm tired. And I'm in a lot of pain.

I'm going to call the doctor's office when I get in and get an appointment to talk to him about my gall bladder. Once you have gall stones, he told me, the organ is pretty much broken. I'm thinking that we're beyond the diet phase of fixing it. That leaves surgery. Which I'm scared to death he might recommend.

If he doesn't recommend that, then it's back to diet and I'll still be miserable. Diets and me don't tend to last very long.

I'll see you in a bit.

Burping,

JewelGeek

You('re) Better You('re) Better You Bet

It’s been a pretty busy holiday break for us—lots of family get togethers and lots of stomach flu. Because nothing says Happy New Year like multiple trips to the bathroom.

Critter was the latest to get ill (unlucky number 7 in the immediate family) and has been home from school for the last two days. She’s back on solid food and beginning to go a little stir crazy. I drove her to get a burger at McMennamins when The Who came pouring over the radio. I sang the chorus. Badly.

When I say I love you, you say you better
You better you better you bet

“You know,” says Critter, “it should be better than sliced pickles.”

“What?”

“That saying… ‘Better than sliced bread.’ It should be ‘better than sliced pickles’.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because I really like pickles.” Yes, Critter’s definitely feeling better.