I'm starting to think that the whole planet needs to take a time-out. Let's all stop and take three big deep breaths and think about what we're doing. Fear is ricocheting all over the place. Apparently the end of the world is at hand.
I can't watch the news--any news. It's hard to read the paper; the obituaries are three pages long now! People are checking out and wigging out. Time-out!
Right now at my job with the medical group, there is about a 50-50 chance that I'll get laid off in the next six month. Cuts have been happening and people are jumping around pointing fingers at each other for every little thing. I can only guess that they want to appear more keep-worthy than someone else, so accusations to others are a pre-emptive strike. I want no part of this. I don't even want to be around it. The negative energy is beyond fatiguing. I will not arm wrestle someone for job duties even if I feel they are playing dirty. Soooooo, that might get me laid off. Well, one reason I won't fight for my job is because it just doesn't mean that much to me as far as my contribution to the world goes. As far as needed money, it means a lot to me. But I've gotten to the age where I'm thinking about what my legacy will be and keeping the bills paid and getting the best bargains on supplies for a doctor's group just doesn't cut it sometimes. So I'm ambivalent about the possibility of getting laid off (except for the bone crushing fear of losing my house, living in poverty, and having no retirement, but hey, nothing's perfect). But I've been wanting to leave this job for ages. Maybe the Universe is taking me at my word. So I need to trust that if I'm going to be leaving the old and familiar, there will be better things for me around the corner. I've gone through massive changes before, so I can do it again if I need to, right? RIGHT.
If I'm not asked to leave, I hope the job itself improves. I've gone on the lookout for what might be available for me and jumping ship at this point doesn't seem the wisest move. It seems that anything I might jump to would mean a significant reduction in pay. As it is, two jobs are necessary for me to keep things going as they are. And I really don't want to go from one mind-numbing job to another. This is where I do my best to tune into the guidance of the Universe. So far, it doesn't seem to be talking much--but I still keep trying to listen. Or maybe the batter's in the bowl and it will let me know when the cake is out of the oven. The Universe knows I have skills and talents and I want to use them and be adequately or even well compensated for them. Would that be such a terrible thing to ask?
The semester started and I'm glad to be back in the classroom. After only the first night (preliminary sense), I think I have another good class. The publishing company sent me the wrong book, so I picked one up at the college bookstore and have been cramming for at least the next two week's worth of lesson plans. The correct book is pretty good--much better than the book they sent me in error. There are some good thought-provoking pieces that will be good for discussions and group work.
Update: the heating system is in!!! Buuuuut, Mike accidently put his knee through my ceiling in the hallway. He's almost done patching it and I'll paint when he gets done. The paint for the back bathroom was a terrible match. I ended up painting a section of the wall the new color to help disguise the patched spots. It still looks funny, but I decided it's some sort of artistic expression to have half of two walls painted a different color. I still want to manifest a bathroom remodel (so I won't have to worry about wall and tile cracks anymore), but with the job situation as is, I'll stick with multi-color eclectic.
I got an "A" in my Internet class. That felt good because I hadn't done any academic work like that in a while and I wondered if I could still do it. And I discovered that I can still BS my way through class assignments. On one assignment I started answering a set of questions from the wrong area of a web site two times before I found the right place. Even though I was in the wrong place twice, I found a way to answer questions that didn't even apply to the area I was in. Talk about skillful "crafting." My degree should have been a B.S. instead of a B.A.
My stress level has been high, but I've been working on it. One thing I do is clean and organize. I have to say, things are looking pretty good--even my yards. I used to say that if I ever got a sex life, my yards would go to hell. Sadly, my yards are in really good shape. :o(
I've been meditating regularly and that really helps a lot. Sometimes that's what I hang onto during the day--the thought that I get to be in one position and do nothing for 20 minutes. It's very helpful. Maybe that's my time-out. I need it and it helps.
I wish everyone would take their time-outs and move fear to the side. All is well.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Summer
There is something about summer that keeps me on the go all the time. I think it's winter. When it's light outside until 9 p.m., I feel like I need to keep doing things. Only darkness lets me off the hook. Why? Because of winter. I remember during winter where there is such a small window of opportunity to get daytime things done. And it seems that the more I do (particularly around the house), the more things I find that can be done. Mowing the lawn makes me see the weeds, weeding the yard makes me see the snails, putting out snail bait makes me see that the gardening supplies in the garage need to be reorganized . . . it never ends.
I had a long weekend due to taking a furlough day and I just crammed it full of stuff. The online class that I'm taking (through San Diego State) adds greatly to my agenda. I like the mental stimulation, but the added time in front of the computer I don't like so much. And the good student in me won't let me slack. I haven't taken a class for a grade in ages. The subject is interesting (Reading and Writing in the Digital Age), but I feel a bit out of place. The communication group that I'm with (5 other students) are all younger than me (except one, I think) and all career teachers. I'm the only one who teaches adults too. There is one student who is an American teacher in Germany. He seems to have a chip on his shoulder about some things. Apparently he thinks very highly of the Internet and its capabilities and very lowly of anyone who doubts its wonderfulness. He's made unflattering remarks about the administrators at his school and referred unkindly about the author of an article with which he disagreed, writing him off as a "Baby Boomer." I pointed out to him that I am a Baby Boomer and mostly likely so is our instructor and that he shouldn't write off the whole generation. He apologized but still didn't seem to get it. In argumentation, you challenge the argument and maybe the credentials of the arguer, but not the personal attributes of the arguer. Maybe he felt that challenging the author's age was challenging his credentials. But I don't find that a very good argument.
When I mentioned some of the difficulties I have with my developmental students' being able to have computer access, this teacher/student said that the States offers too many chances for students. The students should just buy computers and conform or be left behind. He mentioned that in Europe the educational system is different. His daughter, who is at middle school level, has already been ruled out of certain Universities that offer education in some professions--like medicine. Oy! Way harsh! I told him I was glad that the U.S. offers more than one chance and that maybe his daughter will want to come to the States to obtain her education (I assume she's a citizen). He didn't respond (he might not have seen my reply). I think that's one reason why the U.S. is considered the land of opportunity--you get more than one chance here. Education is very important. Pursuing education doesn't mean that everyone is going to go all the way in any field of study. But even the garbage man can benefit from expanding the horizons of his thinking.
In honor of the CA Rodeo's 100th anniversary, Salinas brought back the Como Del Rodeo parade yesterday. Compared to the parades when I was a kid, this one paled considerably. Buuuut, it was a free event that brought people out and gave some talents a chance to shine. There was a line of customized PT Crusers that I enjoyed. I don't think I'll ever buy one, but I like them. Sooo, I was going to have dinner with my friend Terri on the south side of town (she's house sitting and offered to cook something) and she talked me into going to the parade. We only had to walk two blocks, so that was good. Anyway, I did get out and do something fun.
The work on my house is at a crawl. I'll be gone for 4 days and 3 nights later this month, so I'm hoping that Mike can finish up the last heating duct into the last room. But now I need him to put in a new cat door (I have to get it first). Two ferel cats (not mine) were fighting in my garage and busted through the door, breaking it. Sigh. For my part I've been working on the spackling and touch up painting in the rooms where the new heating ducts made an impact. That came to involve some paint matching. I haven't applied what I've bought yet, so I don't know how well I did.
And also on the kitty front, I ended up taking Tigrita to the vet on Friday. She showed signs of vaginal discharge again. This was after she apparently got caught in a fight in the house. Usually she's a good hider, but there was a bunch of cat fur on the floor in the hallway a couple of weeks ago, indicating that some kind of altercation had occurred. After that she wouldn't come to eat and stayed in the same position for hours. It took several days for her to start moving ok again, but still she could completely jump on the bed--she had to get front paws and drag herself up. It was after that that I saw the dried discharge again. Tigrita fought the vet like a demon so she couldn't have been too hurt by that point. The vet didn't see anything new, but she put Tigrita on an antibiotic just to be sure she doesn't get an infection from the fight and in case there was a vaginal infection. Now I fight with her once a day to squirt the liquid down her throat. The medicine smells like orange--a cat's favorite, I'm sure. Can't drug companies make animal antibiotics that taste like tuna?
Well, just drivel, no real theme. July is a busy month. I had my car serviced (60,000 mile check done my friend Terri's husband). Before that I had a close encounter with a post at the gas station and crunched in the rear driver's side wheel fender and snapped the rear door handle in two. Another job for Mike. He's going to try to fuse it back together. The door still opens, but oy! I have another spot on my front fender where I kissed a post at a different gas station a few years ago. It's almost the same color blue as the most recent contact. Boy, give me the streets, avenues, highways, and freeways and I do fine. But put me in a gas station and I fall apart.
Wishing you blessing!
I had a long weekend due to taking a furlough day and I just crammed it full of stuff. The online class that I'm taking (through San Diego State) adds greatly to my agenda. I like the mental stimulation, but the added time in front of the computer I don't like so much. And the good student in me won't let me slack. I haven't taken a class for a grade in ages. The subject is interesting (Reading and Writing in the Digital Age), but I feel a bit out of place. The communication group that I'm with (5 other students) are all younger than me (except one, I think) and all career teachers. I'm the only one who teaches adults too. There is one student who is an American teacher in Germany. He seems to have a chip on his shoulder about some things. Apparently he thinks very highly of the Internet and its capabilities and very lowly of anyone who doubts its wonderfulness. He's made unflattering remarks about the administrators at his school and referred unkindly about the author of an article with which he disagreed, writing him off as a "Baby Boomer." I pointed out to him that I am a Baby Boomer and mostly likely so is our instructor and that he shouldn't write off the whole generation. He apologized but still didn't seem to get it. In argumentation, you challenge the argument and maybe the credentials of the arguer, but not the personal attributes of the arguer. Maybe he felt that challenging the author's age was challenging his credentials. But I don't find that a very good argument.
When I mentioned some of the difficulties I have with my developmental students' being able to have computer access, this teacher/student said that the States offers too many chances for students. The students should just buy computers and conform or be left behind. He mentioned that in Europe the educational system is different. His daughter, who is at middle school level, has already been ruled out of certain Universities that offer education in some professions--like medicine. Oy! Way harsh! I told him I was glad that the U.S. offers more than one chance and that maybe his daughter will want to come to the States to obtain her education (I assume she's a citizen). He didn't respond (he might not have seen my reply). I think that's one reason why the U.S. is considered the land of opportunity--you get more than one chance here. Education is very important. Pursuing education doesn't mean that everyone is going to go all the way in any field of study. But even the garbage man can benefit from expanding the horizons of his thinking.
In honor of the CA Rodeo's 100th anniversary, Salinas brought back the Como Del Rodeo parade yesterday. Compared to the parades when I was a kid, this one paled considerably. Buuuut, it was a free event that brought people out and gave some talents a chance to shine. There was a line of customized PT Crusers that I enjoyed. I don't think I'll ever buy one, but I like them. Sooo, I was going to have dinner with my friend Terri on the south side of town (she's house sitting and offered to cook something) and she talked me into going to the parade. We only had to walk two blocks, so that was good. Anyway, I did get out and do something fun.
The work on my house is at a crawl. I'll be gone for 4 days and 3 nights later this month, so I'm hoping that Mike can finish up the last heating duct into the last room. But now I need him to put in a new cat door (I have to get it first). Two ferel cats (not mine) were fighting in my garage and busted through the door, breaking it. Sigh. For my part I've been working on the spackling and touch up painting in the rooms where the new heating ducts made an impact. That came to involve some paint matching. I haven't applied what I've bought yet, so I don't know how well I did.
And also on the kitty front, I ended up taking Tigrita to the vet on Friday. She showed signs of vaginal discharge again. This was after she apparently got caught in a fight in the house. Usually she's a good hider, but there was a bunch of cat fur on the floor in the hallway a couple of weeks ago, indicating that some kind of altercation had occurred. After that she wouldn't come to eat and stayed in the same position for hours. It took several days for her to start moving ok again, but still she could completely jump on the bed--she had to get front paws and drag herself up. It was after that that I saw the dried discharge again. Tigrita fought the vet like a demon so she couldn't have been too hurt by that point. The vet didn't see anything new, but she put Tigrita on an antibiotic just to be sure she doesn't get an infection from the fight and in case there was a vaginal infection. Now I fight with her once a day to squirt the liquid down her throat. The medicine smells like orange--a cat's favorite, I'm sure. Can't drug companies make animal antibiotics that taste like tuna?
Well, just drivel, no real theme. July is a busy month. I had my car serviced (60,000 mile check done my friend Terri's husband). Before that I had a close encounter with a post at the gas station and crunched in the rear driver's side wheel fender and snapped the rear door handle in two. Another job for Mike. He's going to try to fuse it back together. The door still opens, but oy! I have another spot on my front fender where I kissed a post at a different gas station a few years ago. It's almost the same color blue as the most recent contact. Boy, give me the streets, avenues, highways, and freeways and I do fine. But put me in a gas station and I fall apart.
Wishing you blessing!
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Ok, I made my font blue because it's Saturday night and I'm feeling sorry for myself . . . . and I'm a little tired.
Really, life is going well, but sometimes . . . .
For the last two nights I've tried to get out and do something but the self-dating gods have not been with me.
Yesterday, I took off work early because it was slow and I could not bring myself to call Medicare again trying to get information on a project that I got after it grew stale from lack of interest on the part of those who started it. Sigh. So I went home and took a nap (I think my headstone is going to say, "She's just napping until she reincarnates") . . . a 4 hour nap. I woke up at 6:42--the time when I should have been in line to purchase my ticket at the planetarium. So . . . no planetarium.
Today, after two hours of yard work in my back yard, essay grading, a trip to the grocery store, a nap and a walk, I went to the free play at the community college where I teach . . . (free is in my price range). I try to support student productions when I can. The stage that was picked for this production was the studio stage . . . . small . . . . too small. It was full when I got there and there were still people looking for seats, people who I think were family members of the students. Sooooo, I came home . . . no play.
My handiman/friend Mike is working on expanding the heating system in my house so that it will go into more areas of the house. The problem is that the addition to the house doesn't have room for heating ducts, so he's rigging it through ceilings of one room into walls of the added room. Messyyyyyyyyy! Dust everywhere. In the middle of phase 2, his leg swelled up due to an infection and on Thursday night on his way over to my place, his car broke down . . . big time . . . a major malfunction.
So, I've got a bathroom full of dust I want to clean up (I did the bedroom; I couldn't stand it) but I know he'll back to make more dust . . . but when???
Today. He's a night owl and doesn't seem to start anything before 3 p.m. Last Tues. (a day I work both my jobs), I didn't get him out of the house until after 11 p.m. (my alarm rings at 5:50 a.m.)
I think he's back today because I made him feel guilty about the delay (which makes me feel quilty), but he's here making more dust. I told him that he does NOT have to wait for me to be home to work on this project (In fact, I'd prefer it). He's a very sweet man who has been there for me during many emergencies. He's somewhat ADD, but he's been like a guardian angel since I've been on my own. Still, my patience . . . .
I got a nice new computer a week ago Wed. and I love it. Buuuut, we're still in that breaking in period. We got past the fatal errors and now I'm trying to find out why I could print from the internet on Wed. but couldn't print out my student's paper from a word file on Friday night (which is what a person who can't even take herself out for a date on a Friday night does). Note to self: Tell students that they are NOT allowed to turn in digital forms of their research papers . . . hard copy only!
What is the Universe trying to teach me??? What my breaking point is? Apparently it doesn't take much!
I think it's about change and control.
My home is my refuge. It's where I put things the way I want and keep the things that mean something to me. Good God, it's where I nap!! And right now I don't have any control over it. But even more tenuous . . . the person I've turned it over to doesn't seem to have any control over what's going on either. Nothing is anyone's fault, but it's unnerving to me. It's reminded me that control is an illusion. Really, I have no control over anything in my life. The wind could blow a different direction tomorrow and it could all change . . . . without consulting me. That is how life is.
The question for me is: How do I get comfortable with that? Or a least, how do I keep that from driving me crazy?
Right now my solution appears to be low-fat ice cream with a sprinking (ok, a pummeling) of M&Ms on it.
Gotta go. Thanks for listening. :o)
Really, life is going well, but sometimes . . . .
For the last two nights I've tried to get out and do something but the self-dating gods have not been with me.
Yesterday, I took off work early because it was slow and I could not bring myself to call Medicare again trying to get information on a project that I got after it grew stale from lack of interest on the part of those who started it. Sigh. So I went home and took a nap (I think my headstone is going to say, "She's just napping until she reincarnates") . . . a 4 hour nap. I woke up at 6:42--the time when I should have been in line to purchase my ticket at the planetarium. So . . . no planetarium.
Today, after two hours of yard work in my back yard, essay grading, a trip to the grocery store, a nap and a walk, I went to the free play at the community college where I teach . . . (free is in my price range). I try to support student productions when I can. The stage that was picked for this production was the studio stage . . . . small . . . . too small. It was full when I got there and there were still people looking for seats, people who I think were family members of the students. Sooooo, I came home . . . no play.
My handiman/friend Mike is working on expanding the heating system in my house so that it will go into more areas of the house. The problem is that the addition to the house doesn't have room for heating ducts, so he's rigging it through ceilings of one room into walls of the added room. Messyyyyyyyyy! Dust everywhere. In the middle of phase 2, his leg swelled up due to an infection and on Thursday night on his way over to my place, his car broke down . . . big time . . . a major malfunction.
So, I've got a bathroom full of dust I want to clean up (I did the bedroom; I couldn't stand it) but I know he'll back to make more dust . . . but when???
Today. He's a night owl and doesn't seem to start anything before 3 p.m. Last Tues. (a day I work both my jobs), I didn't get him out of the house until after 11 p.m. (my alarm rings at 5:50 a.m.)
I think he's back today because I made him feel guilty about the delay (which makes me feel quilty), but he's here making more dust. I told him that he does NOT have to wait for me to be home to work on this project (In fact, I'd prefer it). He's a very sweet man who has been there for me during many emergencies. He's somewhat ADD, but he's been like a guardian angel since I've been on my own. Still, my patience . . . .
I got a nice new computer a week ago Wed. and I love it. Buuuut, we're still in that breaking in period. We got past the fatal errors and now I'm trying to find out why I could print from the internet on Wed. but couldn't print out my student's paper from a word file on Friday night (which is what a person who can't even take herself out for a date on a Friday night does). Note to self: Tell students that they are NOT allowed to turn in digital forms of their research papers . . . hard copy only!
What is the Universe trying to teach me??? What my breaking point is? Apparently it doesn't take much!
I think it's about change and control.
My home is my refuge. It's where I put things the way I want and keep the things that mean something to me. Good God, it's where I nap!! And right now I don't have any control over it. But even more tenuous . . . the person I've turned it over to doesn't seem to have any control over what's going on either. Nothing is anyone's fault, but it's unnerving to me. It's reminded me that control is an illusion. Really, I have no control over anything in my life. The wind could blow a different direction tomorrow and it could all change . . . . without consulting me. That is how life is.
The question for me is: How do I get comfortable with that? Or a least, how do I keep that from driving me crazy?
Right now my solution appears to be low-fat ice cream with a sprinking (ok, a pummeling) of M&Ms on it.
Gotta go. Thanks for listening. :o)
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Homebody
I'm getting used to the time change and actually enjoying it. I usually do (with the spring change, anyway). I love the extra light, the sunshine and the more relaxed ambiance of having more time to get my daytime things done. I thought that once the time changed, I wouldn't want to be home as much. That hasn't happened . . . . yet.
I don't know why it concerns me, but I find myself wanting to be home as much as I can. I want to take good care of my house and provide some loving attention to my kitties. I don't want to have to be "on." I process things in my mind when I'm home--particularly when I get involved in a project like yard work. Time at home seems to be necessary to my well being. So why does that bother me?
I guess it bothers me because I want to have a life outside of work too and that takes time and energy away from home time. And it seems that whenever I have experiences outside of home, I need time at home to process them and put them in their proper place in my knowledge and history. Am I neurotic?
Maybe the neurotic part is that I fear things getting out of control at home. In some ways I won't allow myself time away from home until I know everything at home is perfect--which it never is. There are always more weeds to pull, something to wash or vaccum, and a book that's grown dusty waiting for me to read it. Still, I long for more community . . . but there is some fear there too. And no matter where I go, I'm extremely sensitive to what can be perceived as loss of any kind. I don't tolerate it well, so I'm trying to learn to accommodate it.
When I found out that my assistant was going to get laid off, I got very upset and couldn't go to work the next day. I was furloughed for several months last year and even though I tried to see the extra time as a gift, I seethed internally at those who didn't seem to be able to see and/or value my ability to contribute to the organization I worked for. In December, my office was moved (not by my choice) to a larger room (that fit all my filing cabinets) that did not have the big windows I loved, which allowed me to see everyone coming and going and feel more connected to the world. I was cranky for at least a month. When my son Oliver moved to Virginia on March 9, I tried to be kinder to myself. I let myself grieve. I was weepy for a couple of days and then began to pull out of it. Change that might be perceived as loss throws me. I don't like that it has such an effect on me.
But when I get thrown, I want home. That's where I finish the cry I've been stifling all day, where I take a bubble bath and snuggle with a kitty, where I have free rein to put things were I want them, and where I take my treasured naps that seem to turn me into a new person. Oy! I do sound neurtic.
I've been listening to the book Seeking Peace: Chronicles of the Worst Buddhist in the World by Mary Pipher and I seem to be writing like her--very intense and introspective. Of course, I can't really blame it all on her. I AM intense and introspective . . . especially at home.
I don't know why it concerns me, but I find myself wanting to be home as much as I can. I want to take good care of my house and provide some loving attention to my kitties. I don't want to have to be "on." I process things in my mind when I'm home--particularly when I get involved in a project like yard work. Time at home seems to be necessary to my well being. So why does that bother me?
I guess it bothers me because I want to have a life outside of work too and that takes time and energy away from home time. And it seems that whenever I have experiences outside of home, I need time at home to process them and put them in their proper place in my knowledge and history. Am I neurotic?
Maybe the neurotic part is that I fear things getting out of control at home. In some ways I won't allow myself time away from home until I know everything at home is perfect--which it never is. There are always more weeds to pull, something to wash or vaccum, and a book that's grown dusty waiting for me to read it. Still, I long for more community . . . but there is some fear there too. And no matter where I go, I'm extremely sensitive to what can be perceived as loss of any kind. I don't tolerate it well, so I'm trying to learn to accommodate it.
When I found out that my assistant was going to get laid off, I got very upset and couldn't go to work the next day. I was furloughed for several months last year and even though I tried to see the extra time as a gift, I seethed internally at those who didn't seem to be able to see and/or value my ability to contribute to the organization I worked for. In December, my office was moved (not by my choice) to a larger room (that fit all my filing cabinets) that did not have the big windows I loved, which allowed me to see everyone coming and going and feel more connected to the world. I was cranky for at least a month. When my son Oliver moved to Virginia on March 9, I tried to be kinder to myself. I let myself grieve. I was weepy for a couple of days and then began to pull out of it. Change that might be perceived as loss throws me. I don't like that it has such an effect on me.
But when I get thrown, I want home. That's where I finish the cry I've been stifling all day, where I take a bubble bath and snuggle with a kitty, where I have free rein to put things were I want them, and where I take my treasured naps that seem to turn me into a new person. Oy! I do sound neurtic.
I've been listening to the book Seeking Peace: Chronicles of the Worst Buddhist in the World by Mary Pipher and I seem to be writing like her--very intense and introspective. Of course, I can't really blame it all on her. I AM intense and introspective . . . especially at home.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Just Like Your Mother
I work in an office that has a CT scan machine. Yesterday as I came into the front of the building, returning from an afternoon errand and seeing no patients in the waiting room, I playfully said to the receptionist, "Scan me, baby!" Well, as it turned out, the tech who is going to be the back-up tech was in the process of training on the machine and was looking for people to practice on. So I offered up my body.
I hadn't fasted or drunk any contrast material, but I put on the gown and allowed myself to be placed on the bed. I followed the instructions as to when to breathe in and out (aided by little faces on the outside of the machine that show a side view of a happy face with its cheeks puffed out--holding breath--and its mouth open--release breath). It was pretty easy. The area that was scanned was my chest and pelvis.
Afterward, I got to see my innards. Wow, it was pretty cool. I must say, I have a nice spine. Maybe I should put that information on a resume or a dating profile. The teaching tech moved the picture along and pointed out all my organs to me. I do have a heart (despite what some may say) and all the necessary organs to keep Debbie going. Hurray!
As the tech took a pass through my pictures, she started pointing out things she noticed. Had I had my thyroid examined? Yes, my trio of nodules was discovered last year and ultrasounded. We're going to follow up in 2 years to see if they've grown, moved or added a fourth and formed a Barbershop Quartet. Did I know that one adrenal gland was much smaller than the other one (another hormone issue)? No, or is it that the other one is just larger? Maybe together they average out to what two normal adrenal glands usually are. When was the last time I'd had a pelvic exam? Last fall. There appears to be a cyst on my uterus. I always wanted a sister but not a cyst. Have I had a colonoscopy? No, but that will probably one of the joys of this calendar year. The tech is used to seeing organs without food and with contrast material consumed, but she pointed out a section of diverticulosis in my colon. Oy! I was starting to feel less proud of my spine.
As I thought about all the boo-boos that were discovered with my CT scan, I realized that all parts mentioned were parts that my mother has problems with. Oy again! All during my childhood, she kept telling me that I was just like her. If I did anything, it was "Just like your mother." Is there really inherited ailments, or did she will my boo0-boos onto me with her predictions? When it comes to nodules, cysts, and "osises" (and lots of other things), I really don't want to be just like my mother!
I hadn't fasted or drunk any contrast material, but I put on the gown and allowed myself to be placed on the bed. I followed the instructions as to when to breathe in and out (aided by little faces on the outside of the machine that show a side view of a happy face with its cheeks puffed out--holding breath--and its mouth open--release breath). It was pretty easy. The area that was scanned was my chest and pelvis.
Afterward, I got to see my innards. Wow, it was pretty cool. I must say, I have a nice spine. Maybe I should put that information on a resume or a dating profile. The teaching tech moved the picture along and pointed out all my organs to me. I do have a heart (despite what some may say) and all the necessary organs to keep Debbie going. Hurray!
As the tech took a pass through my pictures, she started pointing out things she noticed. Had I had my thyroid examined? Yes, my trio of nodules was discovered last year and ultrasounded. We're going to follow up in 2 years to see if they've grown, moved or added a fourth and formed a Barbershop Quartet. Did I know that one adrenal gland was much smaller than the other one (another hormone issue)? No, or is it that the other one is just larger? Maybe together they average out to what two normal adrenal glands usually are. When was the last time I'd had a pelvic exam? Last fall. There appears to be a cyst on my uterus. I always wanted a sister but not a cyst. Have I had a colonoscopy? No, but that will probably one of the joys of this calendar year. The tech is used to seeing organs without food and with contrast material consumed, but she pointed out a section of diverticulosis in my colon. Oy! I was starting to feel less proud of my spine.
As I thought about all the boo-boos that were discovered with my CT scan, I realized that all parts mentioned were parts that my mother has problems with. Oy again! All during my childhood, she kept telling me that I was just like her. If I did anything, it was "Just like your mother." Is there really inherited ailments, or did she will my boo0-boos onto me with her predictions? When it comes to nodules, cysts, and "osises" (and lots of other things), I really don't want to be just like my mother!
Monday, February 15, 2010
Valentine's Day
This was my Valentine's Day gift from my cat Pepper. Not only did she give me a meal, but she also provided garnishments. Of course, she expected me to feed her after receiving my treats. Ah love . . . .
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Turning 50
My 50th birthday was two days ago. This morning a 39 year old asked me if I "feel" 50. I said, "I don't know. What does 50 feel like?"
I still don't know the answer to that question, but I do know that what's important to me and what I strive for is different now than it used to be. I care more about having peace in my life. I care about what my legacy will be. I care about using my gifts before I no longer have them. I care about what my place is in this world--especially since I don't feel like I fit in very well. But that's ok, because I don't necessarily think that I should change to fit in with the world. I know I need to make the changes that feel right for me.
I care about helping myself to evolve as far as I can and about being a positive force (however small) for life. I used to be so naive as to think that the world was just right when I arrived--that after Vietnam there would be no more war--that everyone in power had learned from that and it wouldn't happen again. Now I know differently, so I care what happens to the world. I don't like that fear seems to rule, but I can't do anything about the fear in the world until I get my own fears taken care of. So I care about that.
I care that positive role models for women over 50 (or even 40) are almost non-existent in the mainstream media (A person can only watch so much Murder, She Wrote . . . besides, that's an old show). So I know I'll have to seek mine out.
I care about aging well and not being a burden to my family. I care about my children doing well (they are) and my parent having quality of life in their later years (they do). I care about having good relationships and reading all the books I think are interesting (I know I'll die with unread books on my shelf. I just can't seem to keep up with my book purchases--maybe I spend too much time on the computer :>o)
I care about being able to enjoy all there is to enjoy about now, while still working toward new things for the future, wonderful things. I care about doing my part to raise the collective consciousness to a more positive level, which really means, I need to raise my own consciousness to a more positive level and help provide a lighted path.
So I guess after all is said and done and after years of striving in a job, raising children, and pursuing the American Dream, at this point in my life what I care about is (this sound so selfish) . . . me. 50 year old me.
Sigh, maybe that's what 50 feels like.
I still don't know the answer to that question, but I do know that what's important to me and what I strive for is different now than it used to be. I care more about having peace in my life. I care about what my legacy will be. I care about using my gifts before I no longer have them. I care about what my place is in this world--especially since I don't feel like I fit in very well. But that's ok, because I don't necessarily think that I should change to fit in with the world. I know I need to make the changes that feel right for me.
I care about helping myself to evolve as far as I can and about being a positive force (however small) for life. I used to be so naive as to think that the world was just right when I arrived--that after Vietnam there would be no more war--that everyone in power had learned from that and it wouldn't happen again. Now I know differently, so I care what happens to the world. I don't like that fear seems to rule, but I can't do anything about the fear in the world until I get my own fears taken care of. So I care about that.
I care that positive role models for women over 50 (or even 40) are almost non-existent in the mainstream media (A person can only watch so much Murder, She Wrote . . . besides, that's an old show). So I know I'll have to seek mine out.
I care about aging well and not being a burden to my family. I care about my children doing well (they are) and my parent having quality of life in their later years (they do). I care about having good relationships and reading all the books I think are interesting (I know I'll die with unread books on my shelf. I just can't seem to keep up with my book purchases--maybe I spend too much time on the computer :>o)
I care about being able to enjoy all there is to enjoy about now, while still working toward new things for the future, wonderful things. I care about doing my part to raise the collective consciousness to a more positive level, which really means, I need to raise my own consciousness to a more positive level and help provide a lighted path.
So I guess after all is said and done and after years of striving in a job, raising children, and pursuing the American Dream, at this point in my life what I care about is (this sound so selfish) . . . me. 50 year old me.
Sigh, maybe that's what 50 feels like.
Friday, January 29, 2010
I don't know what I'm doing
Hello,
I decided that my brain gets too full and I need a place to drop off some thoughts for a while--at least until they can form themselves into a zip file and take up less room in my head. This is my first attempt to do this.
Thanks for joining me.
I decided that my brain gets too full and I need a place to drop off some thoughts for a while--at least until they can form themselves into a zip file and take up less room in my head. This is my first attempt to do this.
Thanks for joining me.
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