Man, I didn’t know you would all be so accepting of my incoherent whining. I’m impressed! Maybe I’ll whine all the time from now on. It was hoooootttt today. I was sweeeeaating. Whiiiiiiine.

Kidding. I’ll cut that shit out now. It was even annoying to me.

Today has been a little bit better. Lily went to the vet and was diagnosed as having an upper respiratory infection. She got a shot, which I had to hold her during (okay, I lied, will whine one more time. She was so pathetic when she got the shot. She yipped and cried and it broke my heaaaaart) and some medicine to take for about a week. I bribed her with peanut butter when we got home so she would forgive me for holding her during the shot. That dog owns me.

Then jparks went to the doctor for a mole and the doctor was all “You might have cancer” so that is fun. I’m totally not freaking out about this yet, I’m waiting until they slice a piece of his leg off and do a biopsy on it. Then I might freak out, so if you see a post that’s just “ejhrgniwrotnviegwhcwng CANCER cwioehfcngoegurghn JPARKS neirncgovtbcrnfoxewg!” you’ll know what’s going on.

After that bit o’fun I went to the doctor (we were all about medical treatment today in the Parks household) and had an xray done of my knee. Since falling at BlogHer last month, I’ve had some pain in it when I run. And then the day after running. And then anytime I encounter stairs. The xrays showed nothing and now the doctor wants me to spend money, out of pocket, for an MRI. When I asked how much money we were talking about he said “Not too bad, about $1000. A real athlete like Mr. Phelps would spend that on his knee in a heartbeat.” Uh, Mr. Doctor, I am not Mr. Phelps. I do not have enough money to fill a swimming pool, then do laps in it to break the world record for fastest 100m butterfly in a pile of $100 bills. Mr. Doctor told me to think about it overnight. Do you guys think that if I concentrate really hard, a spare $1000 will appear in my checking account? Also, can I concentrate and get a pony?

I also wore cute shoes today which helped lift my emo mood and I had this:

You might say eww, but I say yum.

Also, my hair is looking awesome and the guy at the Border’s coffeeshop gave me an extra shot of espresso in my latte. I’m fairly certain it was thanks to my cleavage. So, yay for boobies!

One night I walked into my mom’s bedroom and woke her up to show her three sores that had just popped up on my stomach. She took one look and said “Those are chicken pox. Go to bed because tomorrow you’re going to be miserable.” Sure enough the next day I woke up and the sores had spread to the rest of my stomach and chest. Later that day I was almost completely covered. I was 18 at the time and this was 2 days before my high school graduation. Good times!

Today I called my dermatologist that I saw on Monday to let him know that the medicine he had given me was not working and that the pain was becoming unbearable. He asked if I had ever had chicken pox and I said yes. He said “Well, I think it’s safe to say that you have shingles.” Motherfucking shingles! The doc said he thought it looked like shingles on Monday, but since he had never seen it on someone so young before he thought for sure he was wrong. In case you’re not familiar with shingles it is most common in folks over the age of 55.

The moral of these two incidents? I apparently get diseases at ages when most people are not prone to them. I am a freak of nature and you all shouldn’t be surprised when next week I start to complain about how my knees ache when it’s about to rain and I mention that I might want to move to Miami and live in a retirement community.

And the real kicker is that the nurse from my doctor’s office called me to say that the doctor wants me to stop shaving for a month now because that’s how long it could take for this to clear up. And when I asked why they thought I had gotten this, she suggested that possibly all of the running caused my immune system to weaken and caused the virus to flair up. Oh, and I should stay away from deodorants with chemicals in them because it could BURN MY SKIN. I hope for the sake of jparks and others that have to smell me that Tom’s Hippie deodorant works.

So, to review, I have an old person’s disease, have hairy pits that are getting more hairy by the moment, and will be one smelly girl for the next month. If you were thinking I might be cool to hang out with at BlogHer you might want to give that a second thought. I’ll just ease the pain of losing the chance to meet people and the pain of my shingles with the Tylenol 3 the doctor prescribed me (yum, codeine!).

On Saturday, after my long run (12 miles! eee!), I noticed that I had a weird patch of bumps in my armpit region. Chalking it up to sports bra irritation I ignored it but by Sunday the bumps had gotten worse and were a combination of itchy and burny. Thankfully, I just happened to have a dermatologist appointment this morning so I had him take a look because an itchy and burny armpit does not make for a happy me. Turns out I have infected hair follicles (fucking gross) and am now on medicine to clear it up.

The downside to this? I am not allowed to shave my armpits for at least two weeks, possibly more if the antibiotics don’t work. Folks, in two weeks time it’s going to look like hamsters have taken up residence in my armpits. People will assume I live in Berkeley. Can deodorant penetrate a layer of hair to reach skin or am I going to be stinky? Is men’s deodorant make to soak through a layer of hair? Should I borrow jparks’? The family that deodorizes together stays together, right?

(yeah, seriously that’s my blog post for today. I got nothing else. Sorry)

((No offense if you have hairy armpits. It’s just not the look for me))

This morning I had a gynecologist appointment and it was my first one with a new doctor since my old, most-favorite-gynecologist-ever bailed on the Bay Area and “moved somewhere quieter to have kids” (When my hair stylist changes salons I get a phone call, but when my lady parts doctor wants to leave the Bay Area and take her family somewhere quieter I find out from the receptionist. And somewhere quieter? Like where, rural Kansas? Maybe the tundra region of Alaska? How dare she leave when I still have my birthing years ahead of me!)

So this new doctor walks in and is immediately, eh, nervous? Not nervous nervous, just not right. She wasn’t dropping speculas and other tools or anything, she just didn’t seem at ease. And I don’t know about other girls, but I want the doctor that’s going down there to be cool and calm. I want them to seem like they have their shit together and this poor doctor’s shit seemed to be flung far and wide. Possibly even as far as a quieter place, especially since I read online that shit really loves backwoods Tennessee.

The best moment to describe how flustered this doctor is: when she went to turn on the lamp that lady doctors use to stare into your abyss, it wouldn’t turn on. She tried to jiggle the cord, no light. She tried unplugging and replugging it, no light. She tried jiggling the cord again, no light. She then started frantically looking around the room trying to figure out what to do. I offered to move to another room but she wouldn’t have that. “No, no, stay put. I can figure something out.”

After some more searching she pulled out what I assume was an earthquake kit and found a flashlight in it. I have no idea how she held the flashlight and performed the exam, stupid paper sheet blocking my view, but I like to think she held it in her mouth.

After she finished the exam she hastily tried to bolt from the room, only to have to reenter to give me some paperwork. When she came back she knocked, but didn’t pause for an answer and kinda shocked herself when I was standing there mostly naked. Not that it bothered me seeing as how she knows what I look like inside and out, but she seemed pretty embarrassed. Without making eye contact she handed me the paperwork explaining that one was about reproductive organ cancer (”You’re too young for this, but take a paper anyway.”) and one page declaring that I’m obese (”It has, um, exercise suggestions on the back.”)

Part of me wants to try another doctor in the office, but part of me is afraid that if I don’t see this doctor at my next appointment then she might feel like a failure and quit medicine. Maybe it was just first time jitters. Although it’s not like I was her first patient, she’s been with the practice for seven months. Everyone deserves a second chance right? For God’s sake, she held a flashlight with her teeth! That’s got to count for something!

Today I picked up a prescription that my dermatologist gave me for acne. Because at 27 my body has finally hit puberty. Maybe some day soon my boobs will sprout and my period will start. On that day I’ll finally put away my well read copy of “Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret.”

When I picked up the prescription I asked the pharmacist if there were any drug facts I should know. The pharmacist seemed less than interested in talking to me so when I got back to work I looked the drug up online. Turns out it’s mainly used to treat gonorrhea which explains why the pharmacist was ready to be rid of me. Anyway, besides learning about curing gonorrhea I found out I’m not supposed to recline for 90 minutes after taking this medicine.

Is it just me or does that seem like a weird drug warning? Do not recline, as in lay back, nap, enjoy the comforts of a La-Z-Boy, or lounge about on the beach while sipping pina coladas. The other warnings seemed pretty normal: sun sensitivity, avoid taking vitamins at the same time as the medicine, may cause nausea. But that ‘no reclining’ thing just really confuses me. How can reclining affect the medicine? My little mind can’t handle this.

Now I’m worried because, dang, I want my acne to clear up, but I also want to recline. I love reclining! Reclining is one of my favorite hobbies. Without reclining I’m just a hollow shell of a person.

I also can’t have dairy two hours before and two hours after taking the medicine. So if I take it in the morning I’ve got to skip my coffee. Lunch and dinner are risky because what if I opt for cheese on whatever I’m having. And bedtime is out thanks to no reclining.

So I ask you, when the hell am I supposed to take this medicine?

Remember when I thought I was getting sick? And that mean doctor told me to just take over the counter drugs and drink lots of water? Well, he’s a moron.

I’ve been so hopped up on various cold medicines that I woke up on Saturday morning and wandered around my apartment wondering what had happened to the past week. I knew I had done things, but they seemed really distant and vague. I had to check my blog to make sure I had been posting all week. After confirming I hadn’t slept thought the past week I felt a little better, a little more human.

The thing about taking all of the OTC drugs was that none of them were making me feel better. Yeah, Nyquil knocked me out and I slept, but it didn’t make my congestion budge. The Mucinex didn’t make the mucus form a conga line and dance out of my chest the way the commercial promised. The Sudafed would have been better used if I had made a meth lab instead of taking it as directed.

And then last night I started feeling worse than I had all week. The sinus congestion had become so severe that I felt like I had been hit in the face with a baseball bat. And then this morning the snot started. The green snot, which screams “Ha, you have an infection and can’t get to the doctor today!” The snot that goes shooting across the room when I sneeze. The snot that makes me clutch a Kleenex so tightly it’s shredded in my hands before I can ever use it.

When I get sick, it’s not a small thing that shall pass with a little chicken soup and some rest. No, when I get sick, it’s a long drawn out illness that makes me scared to venture out in public for fear I might sneeze and drown people in the sea of snot that I’m sure to produce. It’s an illness that comes with a cough so loud and menacing people run from me, scared I’ll hack my lung up onto their shoes.

I have another doctor appointment tomorrow morning, with my normal doctor. I have faith he’ll give me some drugs to kick this infection onto its ass.

I figured out that the blahness yesterday was due to illness. I went to the Urgent Care Clinic this morning and found out it’s not a bacterial infection, so no antibiotics needed. It’s a viral invasion, so lots of over the counter drugs, fluids, and rest were prescribed.

Now the drugs and fluids are not a problem but rest, well rest is something that’s unheard of when married to jparks. He tries to let me rest and relax but it just doesn’t work. Today my plan is to lay on the couch, watch tv, and not do anything. Jparks has planned to try to keep to himself today, but I sense the breaking point coming soon. He’s played on the computer, shuffled his game cards, and watched tv on and off, there’s not much left for him to do but to come over here and annoy me for attention. I guess I should rest while I can. (I can guarantee that as soon as he reads this he’ll come over and annoy me for saying he’s annoying. I guess I’m creating my own destiny.)

On another note the doctor at the Urgent Care Clinic was not the best doctor I’ve ever had. I have a history of finding doctors that lack in people skills and this guy was no different. After performing the exam he told me I had a viral infection and there was no reason for me to come to the clinic. Thanks doc, I feel like crap, I had no idea this didn’t require antibiotics so I came to you for help. My bad. But after rattling off the list of OTC’s I needed to buy, the doctor said “It’s best to take all of the medicines I suggested because if you don’t it could turn into a bacterial infection and you would need a prescription.” Oh, wait, if I don’t take your advice then I might need a prescription? Your advice that I had to come here to get? But I thought I didn’t need to come to the clinic for this. Stupid asshat doctor.

Jparks has been sick now for a few days and instead of doing something silly, like going to the doctor, he kept insisting that he is “strong like an ox” and refused to admit defeat. I’ve been giving him a steady dose of Nyquil every night and either he is a mutant or previously drank Nyquil for shits and giggles, because it does not knock him out like it should. Like I hoped it would. Why god, why does it not knock him out???

Last night jparks ended up sleeping in a sitting up-ish position because when he’s upright he coughs less. And I get to sleep more, so it was a win-win situation all around. But a night of uncomfortable sleep positions was finally enough to get him to call a doctor and make an appointment for this afternoon. I think a little piece of jparks died when he made that appointment, but dammit, my man is growing up into a reasonable adult.

After diagnosing him with a sinus infection, he was sent on his way with antibiotics and cough syrup laced with codeine. When I heard the news I was excited. More than excited. Finally a drug that would put him out for a few hours. He would sleep, cough free, and I would sleep, and together we would be happy.

Except the codeine didn’t knock him out. Seriously, what kind of human freak did I marry? I guess I should be happy though, because if codeine doesn’t knock you out, it makes you hyper. But jparks wasn’t really hyper, unless you count the rabid fire randomness spewing from his mouth. Had he been hyper I might have had to kick him out onto the mean streets of Sunnyvale.

At least the syrup quiets his cough, but if he won’t sleep tonight I’m taking a bat to his head. Probably a metal one so it doesn’t break upon contacting with his skull.

The past few times I’ve been to the acupuncturist, she’s asked about Jason and my’s choice for birth control. And every week she forgets that, no, it’s not a condom, it’s the IUD. And, no, I don’t plan on having it removed anytime soon. And, no, I really don’t want to have a baby by this time next year. And, no, I don’t hear my ovaries screaming as they slowly dry up and die inside me.

At my appointment this week I was, yet again, asked about my form of birth control, and was, again, told to not wait much longer to pop out a baby. The difference was, this week I don’t think the doctor much cared that I don’t want to have kids and stuck four needles in my belly to “help my woman parts.” But before the needles I had a pretty rough session with the massage therapist. So my new theory about the acupuncturist is this: She doesn’t care much that I don’t want kids yet, so she’s having the massage therapist knock the IUD loose and then she’s helping my “lady parts” work more effectively.

I don’t know how powerful Eastern medicine is, those needles in my belly might work. So, much to my mom’s and my mother in law’s chagrin, I think I’m going to make jparks stay 10 feet away from me at all times for a little while, just to be safe.

Today I went to see an acupuncturist thanks to some lovely back problems I’ve had for quite awhile. Jason suggested I go see one, but never thought I would actually go. I never thought I would actually go. And honestly I don’t know if my experience today counts as a real acupuncturist visit.

First we talked for a bit. It turns out the doctor I went to specializes in infertility treatments and she was concerned for me and my aging eggs. She said after 30 it’s really hard to get pregnant and stress takes a huge toll on your fertility. After this I got undressed and she brought in the massage therapist. They stood and looked at my back for a few minutes discussing, in Mandarin, the state of my muscles. Finally the doctor said “You have much stress all through your back. And you have neck pain. You are so young to have so much stress. I’ve never seen someone your age with stress like this. You better not wait until 30 to have kids.” Great, I totally won’t stress about that.

This uplifting message was followed by an hour of sweet, sweet torture. The smallest, skinniest Asian girl I have ever seen, laid into my back with such force I honestly thought I was going to throw up. You know how most massages are about achieving a point of relaxation that makes you want to fart? This one was not like that. This one was about beating my muscles until they yelled UNCLE! and let go of the tension for the first time ever. It was painful but wonderful; I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so relaxed.

Did I mention while this was going on I had electric currents shooting through my legs? In place of needles sometimes electric currents are used to move the qi around in your body. Seeing as I have a crippling fear of needles the doctor thought this would be a good way to ease me into acupuncture. Honestly this was the most enjoyable part of the visit; the doctor put a heating lamp on my feet so they were toasty warm and the currents were really low. All I felt were small muscle spasms every once in a while and it was actually kind of relaxing. Hmmm, I wonder if electro-shock therapy might be good for me, in real low doses of course.

You’ll notice no needles were actually used today, and this was probably for the best. I have another appointment next Friday and the doctor and I agreed to three needles being inserted into my hands and back. This means I have a week to build up enough courage to survive the fact that 3 needles will be inserted into my body. Holy crap, I need lots of courage. Or lots of whiskey.