felicula: A dark image of a week-old tabby kitten sitting in the palm of my hand. (calm felicula)
([personal profile] felicula Oct. 17th, 2006 02:26 pm)


My folks got their power back on Saturday morning, before they even got around to having that fire in the fire place they said they were going to have. Y'know, if I were them, I would've gotten said fire going the instant I knew the power was off and made a nest out of blankets and pillows in front of the fire until all the ickiness was over. Damnitol, I want a fireplace of my own. They're snuggly, warm, places of fun for the dark half of the year, and even camp-style cooking for the light half. Grmph. Anyway, my mom's night without CPAP seemed to go without too much of a problem.

Their phone line is down but miraculously still attached, their cable line is down, and a big branch is currently pinning the electricity line to the top of the garage. A storm window in their dining room was busted, and the bottom piece of a window frame was torn off, I forget where. A big branch was holding their new front door closed but amazingly did not bust the thing in its fall. Compared to others, they were lucky.

Aidan will be staying there the weekend of 27th to the 29th. We'll be coming down on the 29th after my first try as a Worship Associate at First Universalist Church of Rochester. Busy weekend: party on the 28th, Worship Associate service morning of the 29th followed immediately by travel to Buffalo, spending time with my parents before [livejournal.com profile] keepersrosered's and [livejournal.com profile] amberrattus's Samhain gathering, then trying our darndest to hang out to our hearts content without leaving at 3am in the morning because we need to go back to my parents' place, pick up Aidan, and rush back to Rochester. Aidan has school Monday morning. Whee! (How was that one for a gigundous run-on sentence?)

I got a call yesterday from the NP I usually see at WGCA. It turns out that the sonohysterogram they did showed that my lining was thickened. The "fun" that means for me is that my follow-up appointment tomorrow will include an endometrial biopsy. Lovely. Wonderous. Worlds of pleasure. /sarcasm I am as afraid that they'll find nothing as that they'll find something. If they find something, I have a reason to further assert my want for a hysterectomy. Get it out of there already! Stop the random gushes of heavy bleeding and scary clots! If it's not in there, nothing more can go wrong with it! If they don't I likely have to suck it up and deal for I-don't-know-how-many years until they can find a reason to tell the insurance company. UGH. I have Aidan. I don't feel the need for any more kids. If, for some reason down the line that changes, I can adopt for Flibble's sake. I am tired of feeling like a science experiment trying to find out what's going on and find hormones that treat it without turning me into a raging bitch-monster of doom. What? I'm already a raging bitch-monster of doom? Eh. Blame the NuvaRing. (At least it doesn't cause the breast pain that the depo did, and it does add a bit to my orgasms where depo stole them...) Anyhow...

This dream was really wacked out, even as my dreams go. It started out with [livejournal.com profile] mechanchaos driving me to this yellow-brick building on a run-down city street. He let me out then drove off to park the car. I went in the center door and up some stairs, into a crowded, dirty waiting room.

Before I'd had a chance to check in or [livejournal.com profile] mechanchaos had a chance to come up, a nurse was already calling my name. She took me into the next room where nurses were sitting at computer terminals like secretaries. There was no place for me to sit down, but she asked me to wait a moment. She ducked back with a medicine cup containing two pills, then grabbed a jug out of a little fridge and poured what looked like lemon crystal lite into three cups. I was to take the pills and drink the liquid. Having been in for abdominal CT-scans before, I recognized it as the godawful contrast they made me drink that tries its best to make me vomit. I complied.

She came back and asked me to follow her. I protested, saying that my husband wasn't here yet, and could they please find my husband. It took several such protests before they dragged me into a narrow hallway. One of the doors opened a crack and I saw [livejournal.com profile] mechanchaos there, napping on the bed! I got free of the nurse, who'd been tugging my hand, pushed my way in the room, woke [livejournal.com profile] mechanchaos and insisted that I would not go unless he came with me.

Husband in tow, they led me into the room next to the one he'd been in. A bare metal examination table was the centerpiece of the room. To one side of it was a table full of surgical implements, most dirty and some rusty. The curtains were down and the walls were the same color as baby defecation. The counters along two sides of the room were arrayed with more nasty implements. The same nurse was with me, getting me to take off my pants but not my shirt. By the time the "doctor" came in, [livejournal.com profile] mechanchaos had disappeared again.

But that was no doctor. He was the Reverend. Ack!

He was wearing a white lab coat and assured me that he'd performed an endometrial biopsy in school just last week. He then grabbed a long-handled swab covered in betadine and tried, inexpertly, to stick it in me without first putting in a speculum. I told him off, grabbed the swab, and proceeded to jab it fiercly at the seat of his pants. He and the nurse both tried to calm me down. By this time, I was furious and defiant! I told them that I'd had this procedure before. It had involved none of those things. I said that I'd recognize the real implement if I saw it and asked if they'd prefer if I performed it on myself. Somehow this resulted in the end of the appointment.

I met [livejournal.com profile] mechanchaos back at the car. He asked me how the procedure went. I told him that it didn't. I was nearly in tears because this would mean needing to make another appointment and going through that crap again. Then I woke up.

I told you my dreams are fucked up.

Please wish me luck for my follow-up appointment tomorrow. I'm pretty certain it'll be nothing like that dream. I'm nervous about it anyway.

BTW: [livejournal.com profile] kolys's caramel sauce is evil! Vanilla meringues dipped in it are twice the evil.

Edited to fix broken tag in the dream sequence that deleted more than a paragraph, among other issues, sorry.
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