There's something stuck in my brain

Two days ago I woke up with a strange word stuck in my head. Mariposa. I asked my husband about it. Was it in a movie we watched? Is it someone's name? Does it ring any bells? He was stumped.

I finally googled it. Mare-posa = Vatican City. Mariposa is a city in California (Yosemite). Mariposa is also the name of a boutique selling dresses and tableware.

So, either something is telling me to become Catholic, take a vacation or buy a new dress.

I hope it's a vacation! I could use one of those. I don't need any of the other things.

Live it up.

A friend from high school emailed a few weeks ago. It seems her husband has rectal cancer. At the time they thought it was stage 3. I just received another update from her and after further testing he has stage 4 rectal cancer. He's young. He's a doctor. They have a 3 year old who is learning to use the potty. They travel any chance they get...with their child. They are such a normal, sweet, caring and loving family.

When my friend emails about her husband, I always respond with positive thoughts. I truly believed in these positive thoughts until I googled rectal cancer stage 4. It's bleak. The treatment he has to go through seems impossible for a strong, healthy man much less one already weakened by cancer. It's going to be a very tough year for them.

My heart goes out to them. There isn't much I can do for them, other than continue to be a good friend. From this moment on, I will live it up. They didn't let children stop them from seeing the world, they packed them along. I vow to do the same. I'm not going to wait until 'the kids are older so they remember'. As Bug says, "You just never know, do ya?". Seriously, you just never know.

In case you didn't know.

These are just a couple of things someone in my house did not know.

If blueberry oats x 3 is on the Trader Joe's grocery list - don't be fooled. A blue box does not mean there are blueberry oats inside. And now, I have three boxes of plain ole boring oatmeal to eat on for breakfast. I'm sure he just had my heart in mind.

The wine opener only looks like a wine opener when it's in my hand. Some people can open a drawer several times and stare at the wine opener BUT it just doesn't look like one until I pull it out.

Showers do not magically clean themselves. Really, they don't. Trust me.

I just love extra long weekends. We learn so much about one another.

How?

Two nights ago my aching neck woke me up from a blissful sleep. That very next day I had an intense headache only slightly relieved by the Tylenol/Motrin mix. Yesterday I showed up at the gym for my weekly training appointment only to find out I screwed it all up. I was an hour early and had to spend an hour doing cardio and then another hour with the trainer. OUCH - add a lot of obsenities and you might cover how my ass feels right now. My abs do look better though. I've never EVER seen overnight results but killing myself for two hours might be the miracle fix for my problem areas. Somehow during all the weight lifting, I pulled the same darn neck muscle. The way I turn my head to the left is just geriatric.

How is it possible to pull a muscle while sleeping? Seriously, how? I'm not a violent sleeper. I don't toss and turn or sleepwalk. Is this all part of aging? If so, I don't think it's fair. The amount of sleep I get these days barely suffices for a full day with two kids. And now I have to worry about pulling muscles while my body is replenishing after the torture I put it through. Unfair.

Not your average day

Last Friday I received a call (finally) from Al's new genetics doctor. She's the chief of Genetics at Georgetown Hospital and she called me, personally. FYI- She scored so many points in my book just for calling. She had received Al's records and wanted to see us Monday (today). This worried me quite a bit. Made me think she saw something in Al's records that other doctors had missed. Of course I was anxious about going. Plus I had to drive to DC and maneuver two kids through a huge hospital and entertain both of them while restraining Bug. (He's way too smart to be loose. He'd have their whole computer systems rewired before they knew what hit them.)

Just a few obstacles we encountered:

Plan A: Put Al in the baby Bjorn and single stroller Bug so he'd be strapped in. BUT the single stroller had been man handled too many times by the hubby that it wouldn't even open. Upon closer inspection...the whole frame work was bent. I struggled so much with that damn stroller with Al in the Bjorn that a strange man approached apprehensively and offered to help. Muggers are usually my main concern in parking garages but today I willed them to try me. Just try me.

The parking garage at GH leaves so much to be desired. There are plenty of elevators but none of them are accessible from three of the four parking aisles. We found a hole in the aluminum fence (construction I guess) and I lifted the double stroller over cars just to get through. It was a small feat.

The doors, all three of them leading to the hospital from the garage, are not handicap accessible. Anybody ever seen a mom trying to push a double stroller through a door?? Please help her. Luckily one very sweet woman helped me all the way to our floor. Bless her.

Once we were in our room awaiting the doctor, Bug decided to talk about 'ginas' and 'weins'. He swears he has a 'gina'. I keep telling him it's a 'wein'. I was so happy a poster encouraging reading lead his thoughts elsewhere.

Back to our new genetics doctor. She's absolutely wonderful. Very thorough and proactive. Al is finally in good hands. She's going to need physical therapy. She's been trying to crawl for months but never took off. She has very weak muscles in certain areas, could be a genetic thing. Definitely something her pediatrician should have picked up on a few months ago but didn't. She's going to have another eye exam and an x-ray of her pelvic region to check for any abnormalities. The genetics doctor will follow her progress until we know for sure she does not have NF. I'm happy. Finally we're searching for answers.

The new doctor also wants to see Bug and evaluate his speech problem. Hey hey, maybe we'll know for sure if he's apraxic or just needs speech therapy. I hope he just needs speech therapy. Apraxia can pose problems for kids for a long time.

The funniest thing about all of this...the hubs and I had a slight spat about doctors this evening. When we were searching for doctors several months ago, I wanted to find them one at Johns Hopkins or Georgetown. He said this, "Why would you do that? Why take them to a teaching hospital?" Um, probably because it's a really really good hospital. Ass. Now, just look where we are. Did I mention Al's new doctor is the Chief of Genetics. Yahtzee!

Screaming, Ranting, Raving yet keeping it on the inside

Imprudent
Nonsensical
Insufferable
Intolerable
Lazy
Impervious

Goodnight, I could go on and on. Who am I ranting about you ask? The referral chick working (I disagree) at my children's pediatrician's office. I can't tell if she's just uncaring or dense. Either way, she shouldn't hold the position given to her.

Background...
Baby Al needs a genetic test. She has lots of cafe au lait spots on her body which could indicate neurofibromatosis. We've done two other tests, a CT scan and EEG. Those tests were negative - which is great. The final test is a genetics test. This will tell us if she carries the gene for NFM. This is really for me. I want to know for sure that she won't have to worry about NFM for the rest of her life and also her childrens' lives.

Sounds simple enough, right? It was until we moved to Maryland. I've battled with the above mentioned referral woman for three months now. First, she gave me the main number to a hospital (she called it George Hospital, it was Georgetown Hospital) and asked me to call to make the appointment for Al. Silly me, I called. Can you even imagine the confusion I caused. I didn't have a doctor's name or anything to go on other than the word 'genetics'. There are lots of genetics doctors. Duh.

After many phone calls to Urma the referral nightmare, she finally gave me the name and number of the person she's been calling. See that's funny because she never actually called but she had the name and number and just horded it. (Can I put an emphasis on hore? Just add a w for me.)

Today I called the sacred phone number. It was so easy even though the genetics department didn't know me or my daughter. The genetics team asked that I have the pediatrician fax over any pertinent info about Al. So I called Urma. Oh my goodness. I needed blood pressure medicine after that phone call.

Here, tell me if you could've kept your cool.

U: So, they want us to fax information to them?
Me: Yes.
U: What could they want us to fax?
Me: (Fighting the urge to be sarcastic) Ummm, probably the actual referral request from her doctor and any information regarding the reason we need a genetics test.
U: And they want us to fax that over?
Me: (Are you kidding me? You do work for the doctor's office right? Is it odd for a referring doctor to have pertinent info about a patient???) Ummmmmmmm, your office has all of her records, right? The doctor needs to look at them before she decides to see us so they are kind of important.
U: Oh. Okay. I'll send them when I get to it.
Me: (Would it help if I dropped by and did it for you. Lazy ass.) That'd be great. Thanks.


As soon as we get this genetics test we're leaving that office. I've already called the office manager about the nurse who tried to give Al two sets of 6 month shots one week apart. No one really thought that was as scary as I did. Seriously, can't patients still sue? Doesn't this frighten people anymore?