Tommy Needs A New Home

I found a terrifying artifact from my childhood this weekend.

Brace yourselves.



Yeah. I keep putting it in the trash, but it keeps crawling back out but I keep pulling it out to show him off to friends and family. What can I say? He's a looker.

And today is your lucky day. Tommy is looking for a new home on Ebay. All profits benefit Burgh Baby's Christmas Crazy, which helps provide toys to children in need during the holidays. Read about the success she had last year here.

Happy bidding.

A moment of self-pity

If you have been a long-time reader, you know that I am constantly fighting a battle against unexplained fatigue. No matter how much sleep I get each night, I wake up feeling unrefreshed and unprepared to tackle the day.

Doctors have misdiagnosed me with narcolepsy. I've seen neurologists who have suspected M.S. My primary care doctor has screened me for anemia, Lyme disease, thyroid disease, and treated me for a B12 deficiency. No luck.

After feeling like I've been given up on, I took matters into my own hands and scheduled an appointment with an endocrinologist. (Why my doctor never suggested this to me years ago, I have no idea.)

Last week, after waiting three months for an appointment, I finally saw the endocrinologist. She studied my previous blood work and medical history. She told me she suspected I had one of two things. One thing--Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia-- would explain the fatigue. The other--Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome--would not.

She ordered the appropriate blood work that was needed for a diagnosis. I crossed my fingers that this was it. This would finally give me an answer I've been waiting for for ten years.

The blood test results are in. I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, or PCOS. I am really disappointed that my fatigue remains a medical mystery. Actually, "devastated" is the word I would like to use--but I'm afraid it's a little too dramatic for some people. I know people are going through much worse. But I can't help but shed a few tears today in frustration for what I guess could be a lifetime of unexplained exhaustion.

I guess there is still a chance that the PCOS is causing the fatigue... but my endocrinologist does not think so. She was pretty quick to rush me off the phone when she called with my results. I need to see her "in three months if I wish to discuss in detail." Great. I seem to be the only one in a hurry to get this all figured out. It is INCREDIBLY frustrating.

The icing on the cake is that PCOS is linked to infertility issues. As someone who wants to be a mother one day, that's something I cannot even wrap my head around just yet.

To treat PCOS, my endocrinologist suggested that I go back on birth control pills. I stopped them four months ago to see if my fatigue lessened at all off Yasmin (actually the generic: Ocella), a pill which I've heard terrible things about. Not sure which pill I will try next. Waiting to consult my gynecologist before I start taking the one my endocrinologist recommended.

Stay tuned.

Related Posts:
Finally!
That Explains Everything.
It's not all flowers, squirrels, and gingerbread...
Dear Doctor, Fix Me

My dog is kind of an a**hole

You know how Romeo felt about Juliet? Well, that's pretty much how Luke feels about the trash. There is nothing stopping him from being with (read: eating) the trash. We tried everything. Not even a trash can with a locking mechanism could get between this canine and his love for eating grotesque leftovers and other putrid artifacts.

We thought we had foiled Luke's lust for trash eating when we installed an under-cabinet trash mount system this winter. On Saturday, we discovered that after more than six months of basking in the bliss of not cleaning trash off the floor every other day, Luke had taught himself how to OPEN THE KITCHEN CABINETS. If you have a dog, you might realize that this is the equivalent of Armageddon.

After we made this discovery, we did what any sane people would do. We barricaded the trashcan with a heavy chair and went to the home improvement store--making a beeline to the childproofing aisle. We considered all of our options and realized that the layout of our cabinets seriously limited what would work for us. We ended up leaving with a carabiner bungee cord. Upon returning home, Andrew worked his magic, looping the bungee into a configuration that would surely keep Luke from feasting upon our trash for--oh--the bazillionth time.

Yeah. Right.



As you can see in the above photo, Luke is a bona fide a**hole. Not sure what is next for us. I know installing a garbage disposal is a step in the right direction, and we can hopefully do that within the next year. Temporary solution recommendations are welcome, nay, encouraged.

P.S. I know I fell off the blogging truck for a while, but I am ready to make my comeback. I feel a reinvigorated desire to post here again regularly. I have missed you. *hugs*

What do you say? Will you take me back?

Unsteady footing

Just when you think you have it all figured out, a little voice inside gradually grows louder until you find it hard to hear much else.

Today, after a month of deliberation, I withdrew from my graduate program. I can explain my reasoning. But I need some time first.

In other news, why is it almost Labor Day? I feel like this summer went by so incredibly fast. I have not made it to the pool once this summer. And my yard. Oh, my yard! There were so many big ideas for this summer. A fire pit. A garden. A Japanese maple. Planting grass in the giant hole, where there once stood a gigantic ugly tree stump. Pressure washing the stone facade. Installing house numbers. None of these things happened. I am waist-high in weeds--trying to let go of my inner perfectionist as I learn to be content with the chaos that surrounds me. Wish me luck.

Hubby Birthday To You!

Happy 29th birthday to my sweet husband Andrew. You make me laugh with your childlike vigor for life. You fill my belly with delicious and nutritious noms with minimal bloodshed in the kitchen. And you are always up for an adventure. (The horribly frightening warehouse in Homewood full of overturned/damaged furniture comes to mind...)



I am so happy to have you by my side for the rest of my life, as I continue to gamble away all of our stimulus money on the "Deal or No Deal" penny slot machine. (When are we going to the casino? Does tonight work for you?)

You rock. (Literally.) Speaking of rocks, you are also a very worthy rock, scissors, paper opponent. Actually, you should probably try to let me win from time to time to keep my interest. Getting my scissors constantly crushed to bits by your massive boulder is only fun for so long.

Anyhow, love you!