One year

5/8/17 00:46
azurelunatic: The Wizards' Oath from Diane Duane's books, labeled "RTFM" (RTFM)
One year ago Wednesday, I went in to the hospital to get my uterus out. The biopsy was a bit weird, and the standard of care said to just take the damn thing out. They didn't think it was cancer yet, but still out.

On the way there, Teshi and I got behind a landscape truck of some kind. I can't remember the exact name but it was something like Lone Mountain, and the plate said LONE1.

I was raised on the Young Wizards books, and I know as well as anyone what you do when you meet the Lone Power. "Greetings and defiance," I said, then told Steph.

I knew that as a warning, and I was not fully surprised when the uterus was full of cancer.

It's out. I've been irradiated.

I am here beside my partner in their bed, safe and warm and secure in the knowledge that if something weird happens, they or I will notice.
azurelunatic: FAQ with editing marks all over it. (faqedit)
This was written up over about an hour, and several months after the fact, so there's a lower attention to detail than the original draft (which I am sure I have somewhere). But I figured it was time to get at least a half-assed version posted.

This details my personal experience with getting my twat irradiated. I didn't collect any trauma from this, and the medical professionals I interacted with all tried very hard to be helpful and respectful.

Read more... )
azurelunatic: "beautiful addiction", electron microscope photo of caffeine (caffeine)
Went to dentist. Early. Oops.
Got root canal. My dentist (the man dentist, not the pretty one) is funny when he's not being intimidating and stern.
Backstory on dentist: there is a lot going on in my mouth, very little of it good, and I am not in a place to be accepting helpful advice at this time. The most recent adventure was *last* Wednesday, where what was supposed to be a routine filling went wrong ). Happily, the root canal fixed the pain and I no longer have to heavily medicate, and I get a coronation at some point.
$$$ ouch.
Went home promptly instead of faffing about running errands, because I was exhausted as hell.
Canceled endodontist appointment, because that was just a consult about the one that they just root canalled.
Caught up a bit with Nora.
Poked the apartment office to see when the maintenance dude was coming to chat with me about places the moving pod could be put. (Answer: they hadn't even poked him about it, because of so many emergencies.)
Called the moving pod place and reserved stuff and got more details.
Filed a ticket with maintenance with more details, since relaying things via the office has been proven ineffective.
Caught up with my bff, who is still getting used to the idea of roommates.
Untangled some very tangled crochet-cotton.
Scheduled dinner with Purple, even though both gmail and comcast were being unhelpful.
Found my glasses by using my emergency backup glasses; I'd taken my glasses off in order to untangle the yarn.
Refueled enough to get to dinner, as that was one of the errands I'd skipped. Ah well.
Got a little time with my partner, on the way to both of our dates.
Had a lovely evening with Purple.
Caught up with Dawn on the way home.
Went to bed early and slept like a rock.
azurelunatic: A pajama-clad small child uses a rainbow-striped cruciform parachute. From illustration of "Go the Fuck to Sleep". (insomnia)
So because not only do I have insomnia, I also suffer from it, the most-recent in the chain of moderately alarmed sleep-adjacent professionals (the neurologist at Deer Creek) referred me to the Improve Your Sleep! class, which has been eating my Monday evenings over the last month.

The main feature of this class, in the eyes of the neurologist and my counselor, has been the CBT aspect of it. Apparently the number one thing that cures insomnia is CBT. So everyone was hopeful. (I had specified to the neurologist that I would in fact be running anything suggested in the CBT past my Supervisor and my therapist. Which was a good call to have made.)

It turns out that when Guide Dog Aunt loaned me a book on sleep a few years ago, the one that pointed out that there was not in fact any moral value to any specific sleep schedule, and that instead of saying stuff like "I'm lazy because I sleep until noon", one should look at it in terms of "My most productive hours are in the evening, and I schedule my life in a way that suits my sleep schedule" -- that general tool of re-framing the guilt and fear around sleep is in fact the very CBT that this class relies on. So, unfortunately, the CBT that I had hoped would be new information was not, in fact, new information at all. The book specifically addressed Negative Sleep Thoughts. The class then expanded the concepts of re-framing runaway negative thought chains in a better light, which is also a Fishmum trick that I've been teaching my little fishies and my partner...

The other main leg of this class is meditation and the relaxation response. I believe that I can trace my habit of meditative breathing in particular to the summer when I read ... some Heinlein book or other ... and thought that taking up meditation would be a grand idea. The latest that could have been was 1996. Then I formally took up meditation (and learned all of the techniques discussed in the meditation unit of this class) in 2001-ish, when I went to DeVry to get a degree in Holistic Massage join a coven. So depending how you slice it, I've been familiar with, and practicing, meditation for anywhere from fifteen to twenty years.

The main new information I got out of the class, in fact, was that sleep-maintenance insomnia was recently discovered to be associated with a sleep-time body temperature that has not dropped as it ought to for that part of the night. And I do, in fact, routinely overheat while attempting to sleep. Which means that if I'm in bed and even slightly think that I might not get to sleep soonish, I should immediately go and get the ice pack, and not try to be a hero.

Also, low doses of sedating antidepressants are also used as sleep medications. The instructor was down on this practice, because antidepressants are only good for people with depression. FUNNY THING, THAT.

Pretty much all the rest of the class was review, and (due to my internets research) I was often in possession of more detailed information than the instructor. I came to feel that I could probably have taught the class myself, given the curriculum.

The first class was pleasant enough. I think there were about ten of us. One woman came in late, and borrowed a pen from me. We had a pleasant chat while she was waiting for her husband to pick her up. She's sleep-deprived to the point that she can't safely drive, and caretaking for her autistic son has done a number on her sleep schedule and ability to stay asleep.

I reviewed the materials in the packets for the four weeks. The second week, the cognitive re-framing, was going to be hard, since the materials blithely suggested that "most people" could get away with abbreviated amounts of sleep with nothing more terrible than a loss of creativity and a bad mood. Pro tip: when your patient reports very bad effects ) tied to as little as one night of abbreviated sleep while under stressful circumstances (and the current Republican administration is nothing if not stressful circumstances) telling the patient that everything is probably going to be okay if they blow sunshine up their own ass is life-threateningly bad advice. So I realized that I had better sit next to the door in case I had to step out of the room.

During the second class, the instructor was trying to impress upon us the way that a poorly timed nap can fuck up your sleep schedule pretty badly. My friend said that this was going to be a problem for her: you put her in the car (as a passenger) and she passes out pretty much instantly.

"It should be easy to stay awake in the car!" said the instructor.

"It's hard."

"Well, life is hard."

At this juncture, I decided that the most constructive action I could take was going to be going and sitting in the hall for a bit (and angrily texting my partner). I came back in after about five minutes.

Later in the evening, the instructor planned to lead us through more meditation/relaxation, to include the rest of the class period. I abruptly realized that I did not actually feel that making myself vulnerable to and in front of this instructor was a good idea, and grabbed my stuff and left the building.

In the third class, I sat by the door. (My friend did not show up for this class, or the following week.) When the meditation/relaxation section arrived, I popped both headphones in and proceeded to listen to podcasts, and only emerged when that bit was done. At the end of class, I asked the instructor about the bits in the next one, saying without explanation that I would not be taking part in the relaxation exercise, and would likely leave the room. He said when the long one would be, and there would be another short one later.

In the fourth class (tonight), I sat by the door, and took a chair with me when I popped out for the duration of the exercise. The instructor came and fetched me when it was done. And I did other things for the short one.

I did ask, this time, what he recommended to keep you awake when the sleep pressure is high but it's a bad time for a nap. And if there were resources on being a millennial and not having a whole house to work with in terms of keeping stress out of your bedroom. (Do something loud. And, probably, somewhere.) I asked about next steps. He recommended the meditation class, or the anxiety class. "That really doesn't seem to be a recommendation geared for someone who has been practicing meditation for fifteen years," I said, smiling aggressively.

He recommended tai chi.

"That's really rather along the same lines," I said, still smiling.

There was a class evaluation form, which asked about how much we learned from the class, and how helpful it was. It was ... not.

So I'll be asking my GP, my counselor, and my psychiatrist about next steps, then. Now that I've taken this miserable class so they'll take me seriously.
azurelunatic: (Queer as a) $3 bill in pink/purple/blue rainbow.  (queer as a three dollar bill)
Quoted with permission. The writer is non-binary gendered, AFAB, and has recently had top surgery.

One of the best things about [top surgery] is how quickly my dysphoria has eased. One of the things I worried about was whether I actually had dysphoria - after all, I was managing to hold down at least one job, go out, have a relationship and so on. I was pretty functional, right? Now I've actually had surgery, I realise how bad it was: all the things I avoided because it meant putting a binder on, all the ways it impacted my relationship and friendships, the way it affected about how I felt about my body, the constant buzzing low level awareness that couldn't be switched off. And now it's gone, and its absence is so noticeable.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (blue star)
Having got the CPAP, I seem to have been sleeping more solidly. My watch tells me about a lot of nights of 8+ hours of sleep. Of course, I haven't decreased my amount of time in bed yet. My friends claim I may be making up for oceans of sleep dep...


I'm catching up on reading, still. I'm tidying. I'm contemplating. I'm keeping up with my exercise. I'm waiting to hear from various job prospects.


There are still health things I have to take care of, but I feel like the big ones are on their way towards resolution.


My partner has survived the winter break. Next step: talking to professionals about things. We had a nice long chat yesterday about stuff. Today's chat was much shorter, as they were working on other things.


Ev's winter break is not over yet. She got a library position, and has been assigned the tedious things. Thank fuck for normal problems. Tedious winter break job is a normal problem. [Various mother shenanigans] are not normal problems.


Yesterday was time to make me un-shaggy. I trimmed my bangs. Today was the re-blue-ing session.


I checked in with Purple about dinner. He has quite a bit of very good leftover pizza, so he was going to work on that rather than do dinner out tonight. An excellent reason to not go out! It's also windy and rainy. It's been enough of that to make it cold-ish inside, so I've had to wear socks from time to time. The horror!

My phone was supposed to arrive tomorrow (Wednesday). Unfortunately, it seems to be on track to arrive Thursday, instead...


Australia, and contemplations of arachnids in a different sense than the usual. )


I know that not all of the Dreamwidth documentation is up to date. At some point soonish, there may be a docs party. My friends who are perhaps wandering in may be positioned to help by virtue of their neophyte perspective: if there's something that the docs are inadequate in answering, this might be a good place for the docs crew to start working on filling in the gaps.
azurelunatic: A crocheted uterus with ancillary parts, including internal clitoral structure. (Uterus in Retrograde)
http://azurelunatic.tumblr.com/post/155137530202/clue-ambassador-stories-pcos -- with a few extra details edited in.

If you have been diagnosed with PCOS, please follow up about annoying symptoms like extra heavy periods and changes in discharge! Backstory. )

I had vaginal brachytherapy for the radiation follow-up, which was essentially three sessions, each consisting of an hour or so of boring being still, followed by ten minutes of also boring being still with a danger dildo. There were minimal side effects.

Details. )
azurelunatic: Teddybear that contains ethernet switch.  (teddyborg)
So yesterday's medical woe was all down to Kaiser (insurance company) shenanigans with Apria (CPAP provider). The name Kaiser transmitted is different from the name on my ID. Because I am heartily tired of being called *Miss* $WALLETNAME, I have asked Kaiser to stop calling me that, and start calling me Reverend. I didn't get ordained for nothing. Because Kaiser's computer system has no place for honorific, the way they treat it when it's causing the patient distress is to shove it in front of the first name. Therefore, I get prescriptions written to Rev $WALLETFIRSTNAME $WALLETLASTNAME. Clusterfuck.

Hopefully my new insurance card will be in the new name, for less confusion, when I hand it to people. My Top has grumbled about the insurance company making their Sub cry. My Top would like the insurance company to be better equipped to handle people with particular honorifics and atypical genders, please.

I would really like an iOS Dreamwidth client, one that was offline friendly, so I could compose while offline and waiting somewhere, and it would post automatically when I connected.

The morning started with some leisurely chatting with my partner, then progressed to Skype the instant it was helpful to do so. The connection was crappy, but sufficient, and I am coming to know my partner's face and body well enough that I can reconstruct the general visual from even a pixellated blur. (A misspent youth that didn't include enough anime to get *quite* that good...) Upon heading off for errands, we swapped over to phone as soon as I got out of the signal-eating garage. There we stayed, with a few intermissions, until their ex's arrival was imminent.

No two introverts can talk that long uninterrupted. Fortunately, that's not what we were doing. They were enjoying some well-earned video game time. I was doing various housework and re-arrangement of the bedside ecosystem to accommodate the new machinery and its power hookups. In addition to the CPAP I also now have a daylight lamp, one of the sorts that turns itself on at whatever hour you tell it to simulate dawn.

I am honestly not expecting the CPAP to rock my world and change my life. I know it must be doing some good, because after the first night I was even remotely willing to put the thing up my face again. The week I had the loaner did have some improvement in sleep, but it also had a steep drop in outdoor temperature. Post-surgery, I've been getting hot flashes; overheating was already a major cause of bad sleep, and hot flashes have not helped that. Previously I was able to make do with a fan pointed at me. Prior to the temperature drop, I've had to snuggle ice packs. There were a few other things that changed. I also have a very mild case (enough that the insurance does not cover the equipment, although I still got their rate in purchasing it). So I don't expect that this will change my life or rock my world.

I do expect that if I *still* have terrible sleep with great CPAP compliance data, they might take me seriously. Also, the lack of CPAP kept me from going home after surgery that could (technically) have been outpatient. The surgeon said that with a CPAP he'd have been okay with letting me go home once I was okay enough, but without that, he wanted to keep an eye on me and make sure I got enough oxygen and didn't stop breathing.

(My medication change last September did in fact change my life and rock my world; prior to that I was falling asleep in meetings and similar, regularly.)

Ev went back to New York today, which gets her out of range of her terrible mother. Though not before her mother imposed home cooking on her, with the expectation that she would take it back with her and eat it. This is one of the perils of being the American child of immigrants: if your parent is a *terrible* cook of their original culture, it's at least doubly terrible on account of the part where that perhaps isn't even food in the American paradigm. Her mother is a terrible cook. I gave her permission to throw it out. (Also, it delights me that she's got to the point where she often knows the best course of action on her own, and merely needs my validation to go ahead and proceed with that action.)

I will remember her stay here for weeks, if only by the fact that her hair has gotten all over everything. I know it's hers because it's pink. Mine is blue.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Saturday: very quiet, stayed at home, a certain amount of chat with partner.

Sunday: went to my aunt's to gossip and watch GBBO and Frasier. This was put on pause when Infamous Cousin, his girlfriend, and two friends showed up to pick up Boat.

Boat is a dog. She's a German Shepherd (perhaps a mix?) with one constantly upward-pointed ear and one ear that mostly flops but sometimes flaps and points when she's doing radar-ears about something. She is 70 pounds of complete love, love that wants to hug you without your permission and share your peanut butter. She's also dog-reactive, got separation anxiety, and has recently learned how to climb 8 foot wooden fences. (Her rear legs were off the ground and front legs were over the top, according to my aunt.)

My aunt very much misses the poodle.

Monday: also quiet, wrestling with sleep schedule and preparing for Fishie's visit and chatter with partner (always). Plus some undignified laboratory homework.

TMI )

Today: whooooo boy. Aforementioned lab drop-off, then I picked up [personal profile] quartzpebble and we went all the way out to the back of beyond to talk with the sleep neurologist who wasn't Dr. Asshole.

Appointment went okay. This doctor wasn't at all sure what to do with a patient whose depression is rapidly and *extremely* worsened by sleep deprivation (she inquired with some urgent concern whether I was feeling like that now, as she'd have to report that; I was not; she recommended that I see my psych crew to get that taken care of, which MISSED THE POINT ENTIRELY, that if I follow her instructions I'd probably need to be taken inpatient, and if I don't try to fuck with my sleep schedule, I'm pretty much all right except pretty fucking disabled due to the level of difficulty I have maintaining a modern business type schedule), and whose AD(H)D interferes with any and all "sleep hygiene" things that amount to "just get fantastically bored and you'll go to sleep", and whose budget does not presently include a CPAP. (Also, the mouth appliance thing costs more than a CPAP, and stuff in my mouth when I sleep is a hard limit after the misadventures of 1996/1997.) And there's some advice (not all of which can be followed and keep me sane), and there's a CBT class (cognitive behaviour therapy, not the other one), the contents of which I will be running past my Top and perhaps also my morail, as they are among the safeguards against me putting stuff in my head which needs to not be in there.

I only cried a little.

Soooooooo... compared to the appointment with Dr. Asshole, this went astonishingly well.


F and I had a few misadventures in finding a place for food. We settled on a diner. Lumpy's was closed already, since it was a Tuesday. Digger's was astonishingly difficult to find. I refueled, then we finally located it. The sign is not night-friendly, and very stylized.

Food was good. One of the great things about a diner that plays oldies and classic rock -- very little chance of getting the Wham!


The drive back was pretty much uneventful. Except now [personal profile] quartzpebble smells enough like Purple that I kept getting the "Oh, there's Purple!" pings in my brain. THIS IS WEIRD.

My partner called when I was on the way home, and we talked about stuff. Logistics for some things are difficult.


I talk to my (prescribing) psych tomorrow, and I'll probably poke Purple for dinner. Whee!
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
  • Thu, 23:35: RT @erabrand: Weird Disability community thing: outside the community, announcing a new dx gets met with sadness, pity. Inside, you get con…
  • Fri, 05:12: RT @maureenjohnson: Raise your internet hand if you've had a hard time getting any work done in the last 4 or so weeks. (Concentration-wise…
  • Fri, 10:09: RT @inurashii: If an angel statue is removed from a fountain, does that make it a sans seraph font?
  • Fri, 12:14: I can in fact shimmy out of my underwear while the nurse is grabbing me a drape. #pelvicexam #endometrialcancer
  • Fri, 13:16: About an hour of waiting at the doctor! Finally on my way home. No pelvic exam.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
I have a follow-up appointment and pelvic exam with my surgeon on Friday. Purple and I were brainstorming items that the surgeon would not be expecting to find when inspecting the surgical site.

Kinder egg (without chocolate)
Kinder egg (chocolate and all)
Toy fire truck
whistle
kazoo
Slide whistle
Entire Google car (full size) (we were at the Five Guys on Rengstorff, so there were lots of them driving past; I saw three simultaneously at one point)
Tiny model uterus (he already took one out)
A crab. (Zodiac Cancer.)
azurelunatic: panic button.  (panic)
My readers who don't have access have seen precious little of me lately (and I've been scarce locked as well). Two big reasons.

First, and most delightfully, I am in some sort of relationship; the details are still being worked out, but the important part is that we have each other now. So that's been taking a fair chunk of my social time.

Second, when they took out my uterus and its baggage, it wasn't good news, but it could have been worse. )


I lost my long-term job in February. (I've had some gigs, but nothing long-term or offering coverage.) When the host company switched contractor management providers in 2015, I lost the crappy insurance I'd had through the first contractor management joint. (It would have paid up to $10,000 of something -- which burns through pretty fast if something major happens. I was terrified that something major would happen, and avoided doing anything that would get me diagnosed with a pre-existing condition.) The new contract management joint didn't give health benefits to anyone in their first year. (People with good tech jobs whose workplaces use contract labor: apply pressure to make sure your contractors are taken care of, either individually or by their management companies.)

Since 2015, I've had health coverage through the Affordable Care Act. I was able to sign up after losing the crappy insurance. I picked a plan with good coverage and good reviews, as I was aware that I probably had lurking health issues, and it would finally be safe to treat them. A decade and a half of little to no health care and untreated depression will do a number on you. A decade and a half of consciously avoiding health care to avoid getting a "pre-existing condition" sentence on my record made me avoidant even when I did have coverage, so I wound up avoiding check-ups, avoiding things that would give me poison diagnoses in service of a future when it became a crisis and I would need to be covered. But in 2015, I finally got a diagnosis for my depression. (I should have been diagnosed in 1993. I should have been treated in 1993. I wasn't.) I got some other things diagnosed and treated.

Since my sweetie and I are polyamorous, we're being intentionally careful about our sexual health. On my end, we figured it would be a good idea for me to get some sort of long-acting contraceptive. (My opinions on body-birth for me were well-established; reversible was not a deep concern.) I'd heard that "vaginal bleeding" postcoitally was a sign of cancer, but figured that wasn't me; I had a PCOS diagnosis, and the blood was quite definitely coming from inside the uterus, even if it happened after sex.

PRO TIP: WHEN THE BLOOD IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE UTERUS, THIS COUNTS AS VAGINAL BLEEDING.

So I'm a cancer survivor now.

I'm still paying quite a lot for my insurance. But.
Under the Affordable Care Act, I still get insurance.
Under the Affordable Care Act, if I switch insurers, my pre-existing conditions (cancer, depression, and other things) are still covered.
I don't have to worry about contraception anymore. My cancer ensured that I will never experience pregnancy or body-birth. But the Affordable Care Act would make sure that I could get access to contraception without worrying about the cost.

It's a fluke that I planned on becoming sexually active again this year. It was endometrial cancer gone rogue, so the surface cells of the cervix tested fine. I wasn't due another pap smear for years.

"How do you feel about having saved your partner's life?" a mutual friend asked my sweetie.
My sweetie looked uncomfortable: they didn't feel they'd done that much. Surely it would have been caught and treated, sooner or later.
Without them, it would have been later. Without them, it likely would have been post-ACA. I've seen friends struggle and beg to get live-saving operations that their insurance wouldn't cover. I thought we, as a country, were past that.


I still have conditions that can and will kill me if left untreated. The cancer may also spring up again. My best hope for a long and happy life is if I jump on a symptom immediately, even if I think it may not be a big deal. I'm scheduled for four pelvic exams a year for the next few, and it'll only drop off to yearly at the five year cancer free mark.

If the Affordable Care Act goes away without something better and more protective in place to catch the people who fall through the cracks of work insurance, private insurance, and insurance through a family member, I am likely to become uninsured. I tend to land jobs that put me above the poverty line, so programs intended to help out people in truly dire financial straits don't apply to me. The job that I worked four years and loved gave me utter crap insurance, because they were allowed to. The insurance disappeared after three years, because they were allowed to do that, too. The insurance I'm paying for now, under the Affordable Care Act, is still about 25% of the value of my rent. (Welcome to the San Francisco Bay Area.)


In a future without the ACA, I'm looking at a few possible outcomes:

  • Hope my state continues to think it's a good idea to strongarm insurance companies into covering people like me.

  • Hope my insurance company thinks it's a good idea to keep covering people like me without government intervention. (Ha ha ha. Ha.)

  • Hope that I land a job that thinks it's worth paying to keep its employees healthy, and does not treat them as disposable once they get sick.

  • Hope that I can marry or otherwise become legally partnered with someone whose job thinks it's worth paying to keep its employees and their spouses healthy, and does not treat them as disposable once they get sick.

  • Hope that if there's someone willing to marry me and share their health care (among other reasons, hopefully), that it remains legal for us to marry.

  • Hope that I get a job that offers health care, at all, period. (The place that only offered health benefits after one year, and stopped employing people at the one year mark, that one was hilarious.)

  • Hope that I can continue to access all of my current medications.

  • Hope that I can continue to access the medications that keep me from dying painfully within the next 2-5 years, and the medications that keep my depression a temporary and treated problem rather than a likely permanent and lethal one. (Again, this is the first year since age 13 or so that I have felt that I'm no worse a suicide risk than any other member of the population without chronic depression.)

  • Hope I don't get sick. Hope the depression doesn't flare up. Hope the ADD lets me focus well enough to hold down a job. Hope I find a job that works with my sleep schedule, rather than against it. Hope the sleep schedule lets me hold down any job, period. Hope that any minor illnesses I get don't jeopardize my job. (Fun fact for those who have never worked a service-industry type job: you find yourself going to work contagious and miserable because you've got to save the sick leave for when you genuinely cannot function or need a doctor's appointment during your normal hours of work. A doctor's note for a multiple-day illness has you spending a day's pay on a doctor visit co-pay or urgent care fee, and the first day of absence may hit your attendance record anyway. Or, if you're a disposable temp, they'll just drop you, because they only care about you not being contagious in their office and they need someone to do the work.)

  • Hope my family doesn't bankrupt themselves trying to keep me alive if I get badly sick.

  • Die, maybe. Probably painfully, with the added indignity of trying to navigate a bureaucratic hell while doing so.


Every one of those options fills me with terror. Bad psychological stuff, and news of the sudden death of a member of my extended circles. )


I'm not okay right now. I've been crying off and on yesterday and today. I am afraid, and I don't know how much the protective bureaucracies that surround the executive branch will be able to shield health care access and workers' rights from the predation of cheap-labor conservatives and the gig economy.

I know I have it much, much better than many. I have a protective and loving family who will try to do what they can to keep me covered and alive. I live in a state that generally wants to take care of its people even when they do it bassackward. I am destined for a state that's of similar opinions.

I am lucky. And I'm terrified.
azurelunatic: Teddybear that contains ethernet switch.  (teddyborg)
The other week when I had the allergy attack from hell (miserably zero sleep due to not being able to breathe) my GP put me on fluticasone propionate nasal spray.

I can ... breathe.

I can lie down, and after two hours I can still breathe out of the lower half of my nose, most times. My life is not a constant sniffle in order to avoid choking.

I will probably have to spray this up my nose once a day for the rest of my breathing days.

This is fabulous.
Tags:
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Monday was a quiet day. I had dinner with Purple. It was unremarkable, other than the way I was a little sneezy.

A little sneezy turned into explosively sneezy and then my sinuses were an impassable wall of woe. I got approximately three hours sleep, out of 7+ horizontal.

Tuesday was not a great day. I realized that I should not be driving anywhere. I also had a care package to send, a package to pick up, and building plumbing problems. I made the best of it, and walked to the post office to grab a shipping box.

On the way there, the sleep department in Oakland called me to let me know that they saw that I had an appointment in SSF, did I want to take that appointment in Oakland too? I wasn't near the computer, so I had no idea; I wasn't expecting the call, and I had three hours of sleep. I had no idea, and very little vocabulary to put things together. I informed them to email me.

I sent a care package of old tech off to my Gentle Caller. The great thing about flat rate boxes is, it's the same price to send a small box with three bits of old electronics as it is to send that same box with three bits of old electronics, two plastic bracelets with a plastic recorder and a plastic maraca each, a baggie of glitter, and a handful of dark chocolate.

And that was only Tuesday. )
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
I got an appointment for Tuesday the 16th to make sure that my incisions were not infected. I learned that I didn't need to take my entire top off for these things if it was loose, that the incisions were not infected, that they weren't sure which surgical tape they'd used, but whatever it was, I shouldn't use it again.

They were claiming it was the adhesive. I disregarded the precised details of this claim, as the irritation which could be traced to the tape was only at the top and bottom edges of where the tape was and not the sides or the entire area covered by the tape. Therefore it must have been something in the cut edge, and not in the bottom layer of adhesive or in the bound edge.

I got an internal exam, where they peered at the stitches. The first speculum didn't let them see properly, so a second one was brought out. I had my typical reaction to pelvic exams, with a bonus former-cervical-area discomfort, as they'd disarranged the area just a bit. (Plus the bad reaction to overdoing things had annoyed it on Saturday night.)

They discussed the lab results. This is perhaps not the conversation to be having while wearing a shirt and an exam drape over your lower half. They discussed the general type of follow-up appointment I'll be needing.

I used the iPad to "scan"-and-email the lab results to the top recipient on my needs-updates list. I called [personal profile] norabombay and left a message.

Chatted with people.

Went to dinner with Purple (as it was a Tuesday, and I had warned him that I might need human company for after) and had various terrible conversation. (He is terrible, and should feel terrific.) We looked over the diagnosis together. I ... may have cold-spider-ed at him pretty hard. (He may have also held on to me quite a bit.) He also made terrible, terrible jokes. I told him about my typical reaction to pelvic exams, and how that at least had not been substantially changed by the operation. More terrible jokes.

My tweets

6/9/16 12:01
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
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azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
  • Tue, 16:01: Visiting the office of the surgeon to make sure the incisions are not infected. I have a drape but no gown. https://t.co/U0WqzMObKJ
  • Tue, 16:58: Woo hoo! I will have more medical appointments and super inconvenient places. Fun for the whole family.
  • Tue, 17:02: Hey Hammond, it looks like I'll be seeing some of your San Francisco-based colleagues.

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azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺

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