Year in Review

Yes, I'm still among the living. Occasionally, I even blog (although not often). Another year has gone by and since yesterday was my birthday (31!), I thought I'd do a year in review. Since my memory isn't nearly good enough to remember everything, I'll just go for the highlights and lowlights.

Highlights:

I became a Financial Advisor! I passed my Series 7 in January 2011 and passed my Series 66 and Insurance exams in February. I had some early success with my job, although I'm told at least two or three times a day that I'm not to talk about it in any social media forum. Consider this my way of not talking about it.

I've lost 45 lbs through lap band surgery on February 24, 2011:

There have been a lot of ups and downs with my post surgical stomach and life style. I can eat very, very little pasta and bread. Rice is a little dicey and any kind of gourmet food can make me sick after a couple of bits. I've never puked as much as I have since February (see lowlights), but I've made progress toward my weight loss goal.

I bought a house on July 29, 2011:

and I have remodeled and redecorated just about every room in the house. Here are some before and after photos:

Who could forget that awesome wall paper that I took down. This was my absolute first project in the house. Here's a close-up of the most awesome border ever:

Now the kitchen looks like this:

I also painted my fireplace white and destroyed the main bathroom (literally). I'll save those for another post.

We adopted Sam, who is so much happier in the house than she was in the apartment. I personally love that she blends in with my new shag carpet:

She's also getting ready for our first Christmas in our house (with a cameo from Clicker):

Zac started a new school on September 2, 2011. He had a hard time adjusting to his new school, but I think he's finally settled down. Knowing that we'll be in this house for at least the next seven years has helped. He has made friends with the four kids that live on our street and he's doing unbelievably well in his Gifted and Talented class. He's learning faster than I can keep up.

Lowlights:

Puking after every other meal. Literally. I puke so much that I'm starting to worry about tooth erosion. Once I start to get used to how much I can eat at any given meal, I get the band filled and all hell breaks out. I've also only lost 45lbs and I seem to be stuck at this weight. Exercise and fewer cheetos might be in order. I'm worried about getting the band filled more than 8cc's because I already have such food restrictions, but I may have to see my doctor again soon.

I didn't see my sister this year. She's in her third year of medical school in Maine and going on rotations in New Hampshire. The more she interacts with the general public, the better her stories get. I wish she and Zac could hang out. I hope they can see each other soon and I can get to spend some time with her.

All of October and most of November. Seriously. I wish that I could talk about it, especially here.

I lost a good friend. I can't mention her name in this forum, but I lost someone in my life and it's been difficult. I've mentioned several times that I don't have many friends in Texas, so to lose such a good friend, well, I continue to struggle with it.

Neighborhood bullies. Zac doesn't have a "Dad" that lives with us and some of the punks in the neighborhood tease him about it. To avoid further teasing about it, he told his first grade teacher that his Dad died when he was 3. We're in therapy now, although I'm not a huge fan of the therapist. Zac seems to like him though.

Love. Lot's of confusion over love this year. There have been some highlights, but a lot of lowlights as well.

Sam's need to chew and dig holes. I have gopher-sized holes in my backyard where she tries to attack the roots growing under the ground. The one next to the foundation is particularly worrisome. She's also eaten four pairs of high heels, to date, and two cherished, childhood ornaments that my Grandma made.

Here is to 2012!

Better (A Little)

Saying that I'm better is basically wishing that a giant asteroid would hit my head and destroy my house. I don't actually want that so I'll hedge my bets by saying that I'm a little better. The great sadness has mostly left me, although occasionally I don't want to leave the house, but I'm told that's normal. I'm going to so much therapy that it would pain me to actually talk about. Even better, the nicest improvement is that I can be at work without crying or constantly eyeing the exits, wishing that I had enough courage to run sprinting out the door instead of sitting miserably in my desk chair.

There have been a lot of trying times that I'm trying to put past me. There have been romantic, interpersonal, and professional struggles that are all still there to a degree, but ultimately, I am feel better.

Just felt like I should update and say that out loud (err..in my head, I mean).

I'm going on a date tonight with someone that makes me very happy to be around. It's like going on a little vacation because I forget all my troubles when I'm around them. I literally don't do any housework or spend anytime worrying about money (one of my least favorite past times that I seem to do quite a bit of. See: never leaving the house when upset).

I do want to tell you about this dog of mine, known as Samantha - or Sam for short. Sam is a holy terror. She sleeps in a crate and goes to the bathroom outside (at least 65% of the time, or so)

She looks all cute and cuddly in this picture, but that's before she's gained 15 pounds and decided that rules are for suckers. When I forget to put her in a crate before I take a nap, I wake up to a house that has been completely decimated. Everything in chewing reach has been chewed to oblivion and scattered through the living room, bedroom, and dining room. At last count, she has completely destroyed and/or eaten: half a bottle of Elmer's Glue, 32 crayons, a sponge, a shower scrub, every piece of newspaper or copy paper in the house, 4 stuffed animals not-so-lovingly donated by Zac, rope, curtain pulls, socks, wooden train tracks, and so many other items that I can't stop to think about right now because I might banish her outside.

This guy loves her, though:

He tells me at least once a night what a good dog Sam is. For me, I never knew that dog ownership could be quite so...destructive. Sam is fiercely loyal and protective of her family, almost to the point that I have to put her outside to answer the door when someone comes over because I'm afraid that she'll rip out their jugular before they have time to slip her a treat.

Let's not even talk about the dog's relationship to the cat. My cat, Piper, is queen of the household and knows it. She hisses and bats at Sam whenever the dumb dog tries to lick Piper on the head or play with her. Those two are going to run the shag carpets in this house with their tangle of claws. Piper usually looks to me for protection and has been known to leap long distances to avoid walking on the floor where the dreaded dog is. You've never seen a happy cat than the one that comes up on my bed at night and demands to be petted, once Sam is in her crate. Seriously.

Raising a family of four, even when two of them are animals, can be tough. I feel like I'm in a never ending game of the "Farmer and Dell" and sometimes I wonder if I'm the cheese that the mouse takes at the end. If the boy takes the dog and the dog takes a cat, I'd like to think I'm Brie or Gouda - something fancy at least.

A Heaviness

I'm not sure what is going on with me (other than my computer seems to be boycotting the "t" button on the keyboard, which is frustrating). I hate that work has such a hold over me, but as I sit in my 1980's house that was decorated by an octogenarian, I can't help but wonder if I'm going to be able to keep enjoying my shag carpeting. Everything is fleeting and I was never confident that I could stay in house. It was too tenuous, too much of a risk for a single woman with a child.

Now I don't want to get out of bed. I think, "if I stay in bed, I can stop time. I can live inside my own brain and not have to interact with anyone. I can exist". Let's be honest. This is an improvement over where I've been recently in my life - when existing seemed harder than not existing. Now I can continue as long as I'm unconscious.

Going to work in the mornings is getting harder and harder. I'm not sure what to do. Just sleep I suppose. Sleep and therapy and maybe some soft blankets and old stuffed animals.

In the Market

I've sat on this blog post for a couple of days, which must mean that I'm maturing a bit because normally I would have just let it fly on the Internet and see where everything landed. Although my job constantly reminding me about our "social media" policies where I'm forbidden to talk about work and warned against "posting overly personal information" might have something to do with this.

Let's see...what can I tell you? I broke a handful of rules at work and I thought I was going to be fired. I actually broke rules that I didn't even know were rules. That's not surprising given how highly regulated the finance industry is. I sometimes wonder if I should get approval before e-mailing. So, my boss was out of the office for a week and that entire week I was convinced that he was going to come back and fire me. I do an amazing impersonation of Chicken Little.  I'm told that I'm overly dramatic for no reason. I think it has more to do with being fired or asked to quit from more jobs than I can shake a stick at.

I actually received a written warning and I've decided to continue on at the firm where I'm working. It's a great firm and a great opportunity, but there's another problem (there always is, right? If there weren't, what on Earth would anyone blog about).

I've been at this firm for about a year. I'm starting to get comfortable at work with my coworkers, but if I've learned anything about myself it's that I have absolutely no tact or sense of foreboding. Basically, I jump before I think - in regards to everything, particularly to personal relationships. I suck and I'm shocked that anyone ever wants to be friends with me. I can't tell you how many times I've had to apologize for being myself. Here's the cycle: I get comfortable and stop faking or monitoring my actions or reactions; I stick my neck out and do something that I'll later categorize as "stupid"; I realize that it's stupid because I hurt the people around me or make them think that I don't have a lick of common sense; I apologize; I go back to faking my actions and reactions. The cycle goes on and on.

For everyone that says "just be yourself and everything will be ok" hasn't had to apologize for being themselves as much as I have. Just saying. I don't know where you learn common sense for relationships, but I'd like to. Any ideas? I'm in the market, in more ways than one.

Confused and Scared

I know that I've been really vague lately on this blog, but that has a lot to do with the reasons that I'm confused and scared right now. Personally, I'm relying on good friends and the advice of mentors. Professionally, I'm in a much different place now than I was a year ago when I started my job. I'm not sure what's next and the fear and uncertainty is keeping me up at night.

Here is what I do know: I love helping people. That's why I went to Mongolia with the Peace Corps, that's why I worked in non-profits for five years in Houston, and that's why I got into a job as a Financial Advisor. I like helping people. I'm a "fixer". If you tell me a problem, I'm going to rack my brain to come up with a solution.

Here is what else I know: I work hard. I try my best and everything I do and most of the time I'm successful. Sometimes, I fail miserably. I wonder what period I'm in now. Inventors didn't become great by succeeding their first try.

I take comfort in remembering that.

Oh right

It's 7:30pm and I'm outside sitting on my new patio furniture (that have cushions and everything!), typing in the dark, waiting for Zac to get home from baseball practice. To put this mildly, I have had a bad day. I started crying on the way home while talking to Clicker as he was getting ready to go network with airplane pilots and enthusiasts. I, meanwhile, am thinking about how nice these chairs will be when my home is foreclosed on. At least I'll have somewhere comfortable to sit on the corner underneath the freeway. Yeah...it's been that kind of day.

Here's the round-up from this weekend:

1) Got dumped
2) Got laughed out
3) Got bitched out by a husband because his wife yelled at him
4) Worried that I was being treated differently because of who I want to date
5) Tried unsuccessfully to recruit 50 or so people into my networking group so I can rejoin.
6) Had a massive case of paranoia hit me in waves.
7) Took my computer outside with blatant disregard of South Texas mosquitos.

So, I was dating someone. We went out five times and I'm too scared to even talk about it on my computer. I guess it doesn't matter. I liked the person and now it's over. Back to the single life, although I could really use a pep talk because coming home alone tonight was very, very tough.

When I'm not getting put through the ringer personally, I'm getting it professionally. Sometimes (well, most times) I worry that I don't have enough self-esteem to handle my job. Actually, it's the rejection at the job that revolves around the job that I worry about. Sometimes I can't even pick up the phone to dial because I can sense the rejection. As my recent history clearly indicates, I like to reject myself before others have the chance.

Now I'm home and life with the 8cc of fill in my band is challenging. I've lost 40lbs, but the amount of food I can eat is so small and I get so sick quickly. I get nervous about eating. Right now I'm really hungry, which is a recipe (pun intended) for disaster. So I have to decide: do I just stay hungry or try to eat slowly and try to not get sick?

I need a damn hug.

Just Me

I'm back in the dating world and feeling an attack of self-doubt. I'm torn between telling someone that I'm not what they are looking for and saying, "Just give me a chance. I won't let you down". Ugh, but who am I to rejct myself? Wouldn't someone tell me that they didn't want to be with me if they really didn't? I don't get it.

My sister likes to tell me that if she was single at my age, that she would just stay alone. The older I get, the harder dating becomes. Sigh.

Suburbia

Ok, ok, if you want to get technical, I lived in the suburbs of Houston well before I moved out to 500 Leagues Under the Sea, shortened to "500 Leagues". I live in a part of Houston named after a lake, which is a little confusing because there is both the lake and the sea here. Anyways. I lived in an apartment for three years before purchasing the house-where-the-A/C-and-cable-doesn't-work in 500 Leagues. There is just something different about living in an apartment. In the apartment, it was rare to have two parents living in the same home, unless it was in mega families with five or more kids (and really? I don't even know how you fit five kids into a two-bedroom apartment. Now that I think about it, that probably explains why my neighbors were always out on the dime-sized patio playing acoustic guitar and drinking beer. It doesn't explain why their cousin from Mexico/Columbia/Guatemala/ok,-I'm an asshole because I never asked moved out onto the patio and made international phone calls on his cell all day and night).

Jeez, where was I? Right, the apartment. It's just different in a house. All the kids here have two parents and most families have two incomes. The kids here are just different - or I'll be honest, maybe I'm just more sensitive. It's a little unclear from Zac's story if the neighborhood kids were teasing him because he doesn't live with his FOB or if they were just being silly, but one six year-old made a joke about New Hampshire being New Hamster and it ended up with Zac running home, crying.

There are so many angles of this story that I tried to tackle with Zac. The first issue was to give him some ideas how to answer kids when they ask where his Dad lives. I told him to just say that his Dad doesn't live with him. That seems normal, right? Like, "I see my Dad on weekends" is way more socially acceptable to six year-olds than, "I met my Dad once when I was six months-old and he lives in New Hampshire." Apparently, New Hampshire, as a state, can be easily transformed into "New Hamster", which is the best thing any first grader has ever said in terms of humor and wit.

Second issue: not every kid is going to know as many states as Zac, or read as well, or do square root mathematics, or whatever else Zac can do that astounds me. My talk with Zac went something along these lines:

Me: "Look. You're really smart. Not every kid is going to be as smart as you are. I was really smart when I was your age and I had a hard time."

Him: "Had a hard time with what?"

Me: "Making friends. It didn't get better into college."

Him: "What!?! Even in high school it didn't get better! What about middle school?"

Me: "Nope, definitely not middle school"

Him: "I can't believe that I'll go to two whole schools without smart people."

Me: "There will be other smart kids in high school, but there will also be some other not-smart ones"

Him: "But there are smart people in college, right?"

Me: "Right"

----and my parents were worried about starting a Section 529 College Savings Plan! Ha. Little did they know the indoctrination that a gifted only child of a nerd can receive. Nevertheless, he's going to have to quickly learn that while he can read chapter books now, his two little feet didn't leave the Earth under his own willpower until he was 2 1/2. He didn't even learn how to walk until 17 months. Sports and physical motion have never been his strong suit. We all have advantages and disadvantages.

Now I'm off to go figure out how I can torture the neighborhood boys. New Hamster, my ass.

Heaps O'Stress

You know how sometimes people create drama? Like if there is none in their life then they go out and meet a couple of random people who show up at their house all drugged up and they end up having to call the cops, but not before someone's ex shows up and threatens to beat up everyone? I've never done that or even come close, but I'm starting to wonder if I may have a similar tendencies.

I just finished my masters program. Life should be simpler, easier - but it's not. I work more, for starters. Every week I put in about 50 hours, sometimes more depending on how much I network and if it's at night or early in the morning. I got a house that scares the crap out of me. I actually asked my boss today if I could get a second job to help afford this place, but I was told no. My firm interprets FINRA rules to say that advisors can't earn income anywhere outside of the firm. I guess I can understand that you don't really want someone to solicit your business if they are ringing you up at Pier One on the weekends, but still.


So, that sucks. Every budget in the world can't make someone feel more confident when they can see disaster on the horizon. The irony  that I'm a Financial Advisor does not escape me. Don't worry, I feel properly humbled.
 
There is just something wrong. Most of the time I can't even put my finger on it. I'm losing clumps of hair at night and in the shower, presumably from stress and/or poor nutrition. I cry a lot. I was admitted to the ER with chest pains that turned out to be no form of cardiac event that any test could detect. I've seen specialists. I've asked about my hormones and vitamins. I'm on a "wait and see" regimen with all of them. It's frustrating. I'm a do-er and I get the distinct feeling that I'm doing something wrong or even just merely not doing something right.

and don't even get me started on dating. and the dog that keeps eating my high heels, even when I put them in my room and "close" the door (note to self: figure out a way to lock the master bedroom from the outside). The dog also constantly chases the cat in a carnival rendition of the "Farmer and the Dell" every hour that they are both awake. and I never expected that living in double the space would make my life feel more empty.

hmm...that's something to think about. Thanks for letting me have this, albeit, one-sided conversation. I feel a little bit better now.

2 Weeks

As Caroline so aptly noticed on Facebook, Clicker went with me to my graduate school graduation in New Orleans this weekend. I invited him and since his job hadn't officially started, he came. There were some tough times, however, mixed in with all the wonderful. I feel like I'm even being disloyal writing about him because he HATES when I write about him on the internet, even though he knows I have a blog. But he's also not here right now and he's weighing heavily on my heart. My online community has been around longer than him.

So, where to start? Well, we lived together for just five weeks before he moved out, at my discretion. He felt like I was taking advantage of him and "dumping" my kid on him while I was working late and I felt like he wasn't ready to be a Dad and was being incredibly selfish. We parted ways. But, it wasn't that easy. We stayed friends. Best friends actually. He got an apartment in the suburb that I live in. I helped him move and study for his Series 7 exam.

I decided that I needed to date right after he moved out. I was much more cautious this time and met only three men and two of the dates ended horribly. One ended so badly I wondered if I should press charges, but I ended up escaping safely. That morning, I called Clicker. He came over and held me and told me that men should not treat women like that and being in his arms felt so good and safe. Almost without telling him, I decided that I wanted to date him exclusively again. We fit. We know each other so well.

Just one problem with this scenario. While I was being self-centered and focused on dating other people, he had also joined an online dating site and was texting and talking to close to 5-8 women. At first, he didn't tell me about them. We just kept hanging out and acting like everything was normal. Then it started coming out. I realized that he met one of them for a date, while still technically dating me (although not exclusively). Don't worry, if this seems complicated, it's because it is.

He lied about seeing the girl. Now he's back in Huntsville and plans to see another one of his women. He's asked for two weeks to make a decision: either he will decide to date one or more of his women, or go back and date me exclusively. I told him that he was gambling that I would even be around in two weeks, but let's be honest here folks, for those of you that read me back in the notsopregnant days, have I ever held to any of my boundaries with men? Ever? Yeah, I can't think of any times either.

Here is where you come in with some advice. If you were me, would you wait the two weeks with the hopes that he will come back to me? After all, I went on several first dates. They just happened to be monumentally horrendous, but I did go out on them. Isn't it fair for him to date. He says he wants to see what is out there. Or, do I listen to that little voice in my head that's saying, "You are too great for anyone to let you go, especially if they are out trying to find someone better." Don't worry, that voice is easily squashed so don't let that influence your advice.

So come on, you gotta let me know now, Should I Stay or Should Go?

Round Up

Sorry that it's been so long since I've posted...there has been a lot going on in my life. Let me see if I can catch you up on the high and lowlights:

• I've lost 32 lbs to date. My band is pretty tight and it really restricts what I can eat. I'm slowly getting used to it. I'd like to lose another 8 lbs before graduation on August 6th in New Orleans, LA. Speaking of that...

• I'm graduating with my MBA in Finance and Management from Tulane University in two weeks. I'm very excited to make this officially since we stopped doing academic work back in June after the trip to China. 

• Work as a Financial Advisor is going really well. I'm getting new clients and working on honing my investment skills. Most days, I love my job and I don't mind that I put in 50-55 hours a week. It really is very rewarding and I'm glad I switched careers.

• In personal financial news...I BOUGHT A HOUSE! WOO HOO!!!. I close July 29th on a beautiful, charming house that is a little further south from where I live now. It's 7 miles from work. It took every piece of credit, blood, sweat, tears, and savings that I could come up with, but it will soon be mine. Here are the details: It was originally priced at $129,999. I got it for $126,000 with a $4,500 seller's contribution to closing. I used a first-time home buyer's program through HUD at got 3% of my downpayment covered and a 4.75% interest rate on a 30-year loan. The house is 1830 sq ft, three bedrooms, formal dining and living room, covered patio, large trees in the backyard and no back neighbors (I back up to a "bayou" aka: a drainage ditch). I'll post pictures soon. I had to come up with .5% of the down payment and the rest of the closing costs not covered by the seller. Total out of pocket was $2,991.

• I'm still single after ending things with Clicker about six weeks ago. He has moved to Clear Lake for his job and we see each other quite a bit. He asked me out on a date last night and I went. It was very sweet. He's outside in the 100 degree heat trying to sell my car. I appreciate him so much for that, especially because I'm indoors in his apartment, on his computer!

• Zac is doing awesome, as always. He's taking swim lessons and learning how to hit a golf ball with my Dad. Unfortunately, his FOB...

• Called me at work and asked if I could lower his child support payments (I can't) and sign away his parental rights since he has only seen Zac once and doesn't want to accrue any more back child support from not paying the full amount every month. I responded furiously that I would continue to pursue him to the full extent of the law and that he should get used to paying the full amount of child support since he would be paying until Zac was 18, and then after that for all the back child support.

That's about everything. I'm sitting here (supposedly) studying with Clicker. I have a Certified Financial Planner examination on Financial Planning and Clicker is studying for his Series 7 license. It feels good to have a study buddy.

The Writing Spot

I feel so awkward writing in this space now that I'm officially "networking" on facebook and my personal internet life has become my public internet life. I'd like to go back writing on The Writing Spot, which is my private blog, for some private entries. Leave me a comment or send me an e-mail if you'd like an invitation to read it or if you've lost your password to the blog.

See you on the other side.

Critics

I politely call them "Haters" on facebook, but I've had more than a couple people impolitely suggest that I'm going about losing weight all wrong. The main source of the criticism comes from the amount of time that I've gone between fills. To be a "good" post-lap-band patient, I should show up at my doctor's office once every 30 days and get a fill of saline solution put in my band.

Life has a way of interrupting that process.

My first fill on April 6th of 5cc's of fluid. That is the single largest fill that a lap-band patient will receive throughout their treatment. Just imagine taking your already smaller upper stomach and basically cutting that in half. That was what my first fill was like. I had to go on liquids and pureed food for a week because it was so extreme. I had to reschedule my appointment in May because of work, you know, since I live and work about 50 minutes away from the Giant Medical Center where I got my band.

Then I went to Shanghai from May 7th - May 15th with my MBA class. Want to guess what almost every meal in China had? Rice. Want to guess what I struggle to eat? Rice. I tried to eat as much protein as possible while I was over there, but I ended up eating a lot of processed food to keep myself full without getting sick. I'm not proud. I encountered the first of several critics of my progress in China. Well, I more just heard about their thoughts regarding my weight. They never said anything to me directly or anything. Perhaps it was in response to me complaining about how I look in the photos from Shanghai.. Here's a good example:

That is my good friend, Leo, using chopsticks for the first time and eating pork leg, a local delicacy in Zhouzhang. In this picture I'm: 1) Hot; 2) Trying not to puke up rice; 3) Very pink looking; 4) Almost 1 2/3 the size of Leo.

Here's another one from the same day trip to the water city, also known as Venice of the East:

Now, it's very possible that I'm hanging out with five of the skinniest people in my program. Clicker would also like to point out that Michael and I are the only two people that are squared away to the camera and that makes us look bigger in comparison to everyone else. I would have to officially categorize these photos as me - still fat during Post-Op Week 10.

But photography is all about angles and light, no? Evidence A:

Here are two of the photos that Allen Crosby took of me during our photo shoot on March 20th, less than four weeks after surgery:

Nevertheless, my critics said that I hadn't lost enough weight. I don't know. In their mind, I suppose that it was just supposed to melt off me.

I've lost 22 pounds on my doctor's scale and I got my second fill on May 20th. The doc was worried about my last reaction to the fill and decided to only put in 1.5 cc's so I didn't start puking everything up and risk band slippage. I said that was fair, so I now have a total of 7 cc's around my stomach and it's an adjustment. For the past two days, I've been complaining that I now have two stomachs: my upper and lower. My upper stomach gets full so fast that my lower stomach is still hungry. Then I wait a bit and the food passes into my lower stomach, which usually doesn't agree that I've eaten enough and the cycle continues.

My critics can pipe down now. I'm going to go eat some soup.

Post-Op: 6 Weeks

It's been roughly six weeks since my surgery and I'm down 18 pounds. Clearly, I'm not setting any land speed records for weight loss, since that averages out to 3 lbs a week, but I'm happy. I am back to the weight I was when I was going through nutritional counseling with my hardcore nutrtionist. All of my suits fit again (pretty much) and I'm almost back into the skirts that I bought when I started work in October.

I had my first band fill a week ago. If I thought there was some restriction in my diet before the fill, it's nothing like it is now. My surgeon put in 5.5 ccs in the band - the largest fill. All subsequent fills will be 2 ccs or so. I've gone from eating almost everything to feeling almost scared to eat. I look at food and think, "Now how exactly is this going to go down?" When I find something that both tastes good and feels good in my body, I can't help but to thoroughly enjoy it and usually get seconds. Unfortunately, most of those items are junk food, which is the oddest thing. Oreos, doritos, and wheat thins taste the best to me and don't cause any nasuea or constriction after I eat.

Although I have a picture of pasta with this post, I have to be careful about the about of pasta, rice, and bread I eat. I took a pair of prospects out to dinner and had beef terrayki with white rice. I was fine immediately after dinner, but about an hour later, I kept getting fuller and fuller and more sick. I went to bed feeling sick and woke up feeling sick. It was kind of like still being drunk the day after a bender. I couldn't work and couldn't really move. I was sick as a dog from white rice. Sweet Jesus help me - WHITE RICE!

In a similar vein, I most consistently struggle with any food that combines bread and meat. Hamburgers, sandwiches, and fajitas are all fairly rough. For some reason, I keep trying to eat these kinds of food because I'm surrounded by them. They show up in my office or at school. I'm also a slow learner, so there is that.

On the upside, while I have to avoid cheeseburgers for a bit, I do enjoy that I'm rarely hungry. I don't have the constant, "Where's my next meal going to come from? Am I going to be hungry later?" worries. The food cravings are still intense, when I find myself thinking about food or listening to other people talk about food.

My next fill is in early May. Until then, I'll keep you posted on my progress.

Pimp my House

Since I have no idea what my finance professor is currently talking about (and he's been talking for three hours now and writing very complex looking graphs on the board), I decided to post to get input on potential homes that I've been looking at.

I've been renting or living with my family since my return from Mongolia in 2003. My rent has ranged from $333/month in Lebanon, NH to $935/month in Pearland, TX. My current rent is $856/month which DOES NOT include water, sewer, pet rent (really? Why does my cat need to pay rent every month if I've already paid the pet deposit? Do you have any idea how hard it is to make her do chores around the house to earn her allowance?), apartment billing fee ($4/month to get told how much I owe a month. Mandatory fee. No joke. I offered to opt out of the service and was told no). The total month check that I write to my 1970's apartment complex is usually in the range of $923/month. Property in Texas is notoriously cheap. Google tells me that I could live in a $187,500 home with a monthly payment like that.

My friend Mark that lives in W. Virgina likes to tell me how much land and house he gets for less money a month. Then I stick my tongue out at him, but that doesn't quite have the same effect since we are usually IMing. Anyways, I've been looking at buying a home for the past year. I wanted to avoid renewing my lease, but I didn't have enough for a down payment in December 2010. Picture me with a sad face here.

Here are the numbers: Price range = $105,000 - $125,000 (yes, property is really that cheap here, which makes my rent that much more ridiculous), <=3 bedrooms, <=2 bathrooms, >1975 home, 4.5% interest rate on mortgage, FHA loan with 3.5% down = $3,675 - $4,375, annual HOA dues >$200/annually, monthly payment $532 - $633.

So...I've selected three properties that could work for me, but they all need a little help. I'll include a couple of pictures and a link to the posting. What would you change about the house? Do you like it? Am I an idiot for considering this home?

338 Capehill Drive

This is the most expensive home with a list price of $124,900 in Webster, TX. I love the french doors in the Master Bedroom and the tile in both bathrooms.

Although it's a little hard to see around the paint color in the dining room and kitchen. That would be one of the first things to go in this house.

The realtor boasts that this is new paint....umm...clearly these people have never seen the show, "Sell This House!" on A&E.

16004 Eastcape Drive

This is probably the worst shot of a house that I've seen, but that makes me wonder if not as many people would go and look at it and I'd have an upper hand when negotiating. The list price is $115,900.

The maintenance fee is $295/annually, but it's a larger home at 1,595 sq ft. I heart this living room/den combination, but I'll be honest, I don't have nearly enough furniture to fill that much space.

That's also a large expanse of beige and white.

Here's the "Master" bathroom, which leaves a lot to be desired.

I can't really see under the vanity, but it looks very 1970s from this photo. It makes me wonder what the second bathroom looks like.

17310 Heritage Bay

This is the least expensive house at $109,900. The picture of the front of the house makes me wonder why the realtor didn't have the van moved, but maybe no one was home at the time. I'm not sure. I'm not a realtor. I just like to critique photos

The realtor is also VERY impressed with the tile work in this home. Almost all the photos focus on the tile and there is tile everywhere. From the floors, to the shower, to the counter top. Note the dolled up tile work in this photo.

Then there is more tile in the kitchen, in the same pattern

The tile in the bathroom looks like it was having work done. There also isn't much of a backyard with this home, but it is the cheapest.

So the big question: Which house would you pick?

12

I stepped on the scale this morning and was down 12lbs. Since I had my surgery on February 24th, that is roughly 3w1d. I'm starting to see some change in my clothes, but not a whole lot, which makes me think that the first 8-9lbs was actually water weight.

BUT, it's so nice to get on the scale now and see progress.

The Eyes Have It

Hmm...I’m not even sure what happens when I step away from the computer that long. I swear it feels like I just updated, but then I check and see that it’s been two weeks. I’ve learned some important lessons during that time:

 

• I have to always chew my food completely before I swallow. This sounds self-evident, but once you realize how much food you swallow only partially chewed, you’ll see why this was such a big lesson to learn. My little, un-filled band opening can only tolerate so much food before food backs up directly in my esophagus, somewhere in my chest. It does feel a little like what I imagine a heart attack might feel like, only there is also queasiness involved. Also, there is a lot of grabbing of my chest and gulping down air feeling like I’m being quickly suffocated under the pressure of my food

• Passing a Group 1 life, accident, and health exam does not mean that a person suddenly has a license to sell insurance or variable annuities. It means that I passed the exam. The license is applied for separately.

• I’m really slow when it comes to cold-calling businesses and individuals. Even when I try to be fast, I only get about 35 calls made before I start to wonder if I should be calling at a different time. Like Saturday. Maybe I should quit school with one module left and just cold call all-day Saturday and not go into the office on Mondays, Wednesdays, or Fridays. Just a thought.

• I think I’ve lost 10lbs of water weight since there is no super noticeable difference in the way my clothes fit. 

• I can’t stress how important it is to get a regular eye exam, especially if you are overweight. See below for more details.

 

Those are the primary lessons that I’ve learned. In reference to #4, I went to my optometrist after a blurry spot developed in my vision in class on March 5th. I had been having horrible, horrible headaches with pain radiating from my eyes and had talked to Aunt Jen about headaches related to hypertension. She said basically that they would be the worst headaches of my life and most likely I’d stroke out before I had time to complain about how bad my head was hurting. She’s comforting, that one. Her vast knowledge of medical conditions and symptoms just makes her a little bit of downer sometimes.

 

So, I was at the optometrist and she says that my eyes are dry, but even more concerning to her, she sees visible damage to my optic nerves. Then she told me to not go back to work for the day and go immediately to the optomologist she was recommending for me. I went and had a battery of eye tests done, including dilation and vision field. The doc came in and discussed my results. There was a circle of occlusion around my left eye and large swaths of blindness in my right eye, around the periphery, where I couldn’t correctly see the small, blinking white light. Then he showed me the optomap picture of my inner eye. It turns out that optic discs are supposed to look clear, relatively flat, with well-defined margins. My optic discs look….freakish. Just imagine holding onto a balloon in the middle. Then squeeze your hand. See how the top of the balloon puffs out from the air pressure? Now imagine that happening in the back of your eyes.

 

He explained that the lack of blood into my optic nerve and blood vessels around my optic disc hemorrhaging were causing my headaches and blurry vision. The medical profession has come up with a great term to describe this phenomenon. It’s “pseudotumor cerebri” . Pseudotumors have symptoms like a tumor, without actually having a tumor. These symptoms include: headaches (check), blurred vision (check),and increased intracranial pressure (check and check). But then he said he had to rule out an actual tumor and he continued the doctor shuffle to a neurologist.

 

The next day, the neurologist confirmed the previous two doctors’ findings and ordered a MRI and MRV. He also put me on acetazolamide to reduce the pressure in my spinal fluid by getting rid of excess water. Side effects include: increased urination (check), bad taste to carbonated beverages (check – I’ve finally had to reduce and occasionally eliminate Diet Coke and beer), and tingling in outer extremities, like hands and feet (check). He said, and the U.S. National Library of Medicine concurs, that the condition occurs most often in obese, premenopausal women. My acne medication - minocycline - also has increased intracranial pressure as a possible side effect. I've stopped the medication, but haven't seen any improvement in my vision. Sometimes there is no known cause and the only treatment is to lose weight.

 

MRI and MRV were normal. My spinal tap to check for infection in my spinal fluid and to monitor my spinal pressure is being scheduled now. Cross your fingers for the best.

 

I Ate a Meatball and Almost Died

That title could be a post all by itself, but since I’m a blogger, you get the full story. I went back to work on Monday and made it basically through the day. There was the part where I had to go home and lie down for a long lunch hour, but that can happen even on my non-surgical recovery days. I blame Vicadin really. Now that the pain is more on the outside of my stomach and my abdominal muscles, as opposed to literally feeling the band tightening my stomach on the inside, Vicadin does me little good. Right now, I’m still sore from Sunday when I decided that I needed to actually take my recycling to the recycling center for the first time in months and months and months. That really wasn’t my brightest idea. Lots of bending down caused a searing pain to shoot through my right side. It’s calmed down and now only aches when I stand up and walk. It’s basically where I imagine my appendix might be, if my appendix went on a field trip to a random spot on my right side, between my ribs and belly button. Right there. That’s where it hurts.


In addition to overdoing it physically, I have to confess that I’ve been testing my gastric limitations. I was on a full liquid diet for two days after my surgery, then started sneaking in solids. Mostly there were in the form of scrambled eggs, macaroni and cheese. (because soft is almost a liquid, right?), chili with no beans, and chopped tuna and chicken (because being pre-chewed is totally three steps closer to liquid than a solid in my mind). I kept drinking broth and throwing away the rest of the soup, which is fairly unsatisfying. Then on Sunday I demanded that Clicker take me to the sacred house of pancakes and let me eat one. He tried very hard and very valiantly to talk me out of it, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Pancakes are very soft! Sometimes they even fall apart when you try to pick them up with a fork. I ate two of them very slowly with some scrambled egg substitute. Then I wasn’t hungry for the remainder of the day.

I’m at work today and the office orders Potbelly sandwiches for lunch during our wholesaler meeting. I’m hungry. I ate/drank my soup around 10:30am and I don’t have any other food. Then I see a meatball sandwich on wheat bread and I think, “I can do this. The meat is ground together and the bread is wheat instead of white. It shouldn’t get stuck. Chomp. Chomp. Chomp”

Then immediately I knew that I had made a very large mistake.

Three bites into the sandwich, I get a searing pain in my chest and I have to rush out of the meeting. I started walking around the office, much like a pregnant lady with contractions. I sat down at my desk and a wave of nausea rolled over me. I got out my trash can and willed the food not to come up and upset my sore appendix site and delicate stomach. Then my breathing got a little harder and it felt like I couldn’t catch my breath, which caused me to try to breathe even harder in a panic. Fortunately, a I’ve been training for the past couple in the art of mastering anxiety attacks and I’m now a Jedi master – er- scratch that. I’m now at least able to appear normal in public. I walked around some more and felt a hard lump right at the edge of my diaphragm. I have to assume that it was part of the meatball because I don’t like to think about my tumors growing heads and talking back to me.

It took about two hours for me to feel somewhat normal again. I’m now firmly back on liquids until Friday because I’d rather drink my meals than have an aneurism and die at work from a renegade meat and some whole wheat bread. No sandwich is worth a trip to the ER. I just wish that Jello tasted better.

Blink

I'm not really sure what just happened there. I was going to write all this great build up to my surgery, including another post with my unreasonable expectations and then, I dunno, I blinked. I went to school two days after work to work on a take home final. Then suddenly it was the day of my surgery, on Thursday, February 24th.

I woke up at the normal time and started to get Zac ready. My Mom came over to take Zac to school and my Dad came over to drive Clicker and I to the hospital. Of course, we were 30 minutes early to the hospital, but the nurses managed to get me into a temporary room within 15 minutes of arrival. Then this happened:

Even with bed in a banana boat position, I promptly fell asleep for close to two hours with Clicker and my Dad in the room. Apparently, my nerves weren't enough to prevent me from enjoying a good solid nap at 9:30am. When I went to sleep, both Clicker and my Dad were on their iPhones for what I assume was the entire time since they were both playing with them when I woke up. Eventually, a nurse came to get me and move me to pre-op. I said good bye to my family and boyfriend and they wheeled me away. I wasn't even nervous then, just anxious to be in the recovery stage.

Pre-op seemed to take forever, although my nurse was incredibly nice. She started my IV and then a lovely woman came to "give me something to relax," which I was told was something along the lines of medical grade Valium. It worked. I was veeeerrrrryyyyy relaxed.

Then I went into the surgery room and the nurses were all talking to each other and basically ignoring me and one of them must have slipped over and gave me more sedation because the next thing I remember is waking up. My actual memories from waking up aren't particularly memorable so I'll just skip to the next step. I got wheeled into a "Transportation" waiting area. Then I started getting angsty. I wanted to see Clicker and my Dad and pretty much knew that my Dad would be nervous until he saw me again. I tried to dose a bit during the transportation waiting phase, but I couldn't fall back asleep. They finally rolled me into the Recovery Room and I saw both of them for five minutes and then a nurse escorted them out. Then I went back into the Transportation area and waited for a doctor to monitor my upper GI x-ray.



Like before in my pre-op appointment, I had to swallow barium while the doctor watched on the monitor. Unlike before, I was in a decent amount of pain and didn't really want to be swallowing anything, even if I had gone without water or food for close to 15 hours. The worst part was when they laid me back and made me roll on my side to get a picture of the back of my stomach (note: it looks just like the front, but with more ribs involved). Then I waited some more for another person from Transportation to wheel me into a hospital room where I saw Clicker and my Dad again. My Dad kept saying that I looked better than he expected and, of course, he wasn't surprised when my campaign for water kicked into high gear. I was tired and very thirsty. It was close to 3:30 - 4pm by then and I hadn't had anything to drink since midnight the night before.

Once in the room, I was told all the tasks I had to do before I could be discharged home. I was glad that the nurse gave me a good 45 minute notice before she expected me to pee. That gave me enough time to get all the saline that I had received through IV out of me. Once my pee was measured, I got some water, ice chips, and Vicadin, in that order. Codeine on an empty stomach really doesn't work for me. I almost got sick, but managed to walk up and down the hall four times with Clicker (who I must say is really quite a task master).

I got to go home around 6:30pm and struggled though the manual transmission of my Dad's car in Houston traffic. Again, my memories go a bit fuzzy. I just remember getting into bed and waking up every 1 - 2 hours or so every time Clicker came into room, opened the door, breathed in my direction, or I woke myself up. He gave me codeine every four hours and we finally got to sleep around 2am.

I took off the pads and tape on my five incisions in the shower, with the firm instructions that I wasn't supposed to remove the steri strips below. I joked on facebook that it look liked I had been in a prison brawl with a sharpened toothbrush - and lost. Here is what my stomach looked like after multiple showers and a couple of days of healing:

I'm guessing the longer of the incisions on my right is where they went through to put in the band. There was a steri strip in the middle of my belly button, but it fell off this morning. As of this morning, I'm down 4lbs from soup, jello, and applesauce. So much soup. More soup and broth then I had after my C-section, although my Mom swears that I'm walking better now than I did after Zac was born.

Tomorrow I'm back to work. Here I go.

Conflicted

I've been hiding out a bit...

On Friday, Clicker came down to my part of town and, after a rough start, we drove to Galveston, Texas for the weekend. We ended up having a pretty fantastic time and on Sunday I urged Clicker to earn his name and go into full-out photographer mode.

Here are some shots from the trip. It was beauitful and a sunny 65-68 degrees and we spent some time just looking at the water, even though we didn't go in:

 This was the view of the pool from the room, even though it was too chilly to go in.

 I woke Clicker up, accidentally, at 6:45am on Saturday and he took this picture of the sunrise at the coast.

 The view of the hotel from a breaker in the water.

Clicker and I (this time with permission to post - and yes, I realize that we both have our eyes partially closed. It was very, very bright.)

I could never get this kind of shot on my own. This shot definitely comes from dating a former photographer who could tell me what to do and where to look. I like the final product.

Now I come to the conflicted part of my life right now. Here's the condundrum: I haven't been this happy in a long time AND I've never been bigger. I got weighed today at my final pre-op appointment and I'm now officially heavier than I was when I was pregnant. I was so big that I actually felt shame at the number. It was the kind of deep-seated shame that I can't even write about very openly. It's the kind that starts out with, "How can anyone love me? How did I let myself get to this point?" and it spirals down from there. Trust me when I say those are the kind thoughts that I'm thinking when I go into the dark place. I have to remind myself that my friends, family, and boyfriend love me for who am I, not what I look like. I need a little bug on my shoulder to remind me that it's ok that I'm uncomfortable in all of work clothes and can't imagine meeting clients they way I look now, that doesn't make me a less qualified Financial Advisor.

On the flip side, I'm very, very happy right now. I like my job and the days pass quickly. I'm excited to start my own business and learning more about the financial services industry. Things have been hard with Clicker recently, but we are trying to work through it and when he holds me in his arms, the world quiets down and I feel calm. I especially love my time with Zac. Five years-old is a great age. He's so smart, funny, and kind. I can honestly say that I look forward to getting off work because I know that I get to spend the evening with him. We just hang out most nights. Sometimes we are both on our laptops and I laugh to think that I'm raising the yuppiest kid ever, but damn, he's just so cool. He knows more about space than I do and likes to make up songs about multiplication. How cool is that?

That's my guy. I know that I need to be around for him. I just wish that my outside matched my inside.

Series 66

No, I have no idea why it's called that either. All I know is that when I got hired onto my company in late October 2010, I knew that I would have 90 days to pass the Series 7 and the Series 66 examinations. Series 7 is a 250-question, five hour test with an hour break in the middle. It's over federal law and the test designers seem fixated on options and municipal bonds. I was told point-blank by one of my coworkers in the office that if a client ever asks about the underwriting of a municipal bond, that I should fire them as a client. No joke. Basically, once you pass the tests, you aren't really required to retain the information, especially since most of the public will have no idea what you are talking about if you start mentioning bear straddles or naked puts. It kind of sounds like both of those should be done in private, no?

The Series 66 tests your knowledge of state laws, without actually being specific to any one state. The State Administrator, who is a shadowy figure at best in the study materials, can require that an investment advisor representative (aka: me, known as a broker or financial advisor in most circles) take the test before they can trade securities in any state. You can see why taking just the Series 7 would be problematic then. I suppose I could sell securities in Puerto Rico or Guam, but since I'm not planning on leaving one of the 50 states anytime soon, I also had to take the Series 66. I like living in a state. States are good.

The actual test is 100 questions long and they give you two-and-a-half hours to complete it. I found that I either know the answer to the question or don't. 99% of the questions on the Series 66 don't involve math so it's basic problem solving and memory recall. Does the State Administrator have this power? What about this one? If we blindfolded the State Administrator and put him in a room with three issuers of corporate securities, a rabbi, and two investment advisors, what do you think would happen? That sort of thing.

There was a couple hard questions that I'm kicking myself for not knowing, mostly because I feel like after 18 months in a MBA program I should have known them. I had to completely guess on how to find the alpha of a stock when given the stock's beta and the expected return. Uhh...6.8? Yeah, that's what I went with too. Then there was a question about the minimum value of an investment needed to fund a monthly stipend of $1,000 in perpetuity with an expected 3% rate of return. There wasn't enough information to do present value calculations since I didn't have the risk free rate so I just started doing some math long-hand with my calculator. It was only after I submitted my test that I realized I had assumed a 3% MONTHLY rate (or 12% annually,  which is huge if you imagine getting that rate of return forever) instead of a 3% ANNUAL return (or .03/12 monthly, which is much more reasonable). I think I've actually had this question in one of my finance courses and I'm pretty sure I got it wrong then too. Fortunately, most people think about college tuition or retirement in terms of an annual amount of money. I'll leave the calculations on monthly cash flow streams to annuity providers. They have charts and everything.

Today also coincides with Day 1 of my liquid diet. I had some eggs this morning because I didn't want to feel sleepy during my test. I had a protein shake for lunch and I'm about ready to go have another. The commercial that got me today while I was watching tv was for an Italian restaurant, but I managed to stay out of the kitchen, although I'm back to feeling hungry and a little stabby right now.

13 more days of this. Really?!?

T-1

The next big, "pass or you're fired" test is tomorrow at 8am. I was going to study more tonight for Erika, but I fell asleep and then my Dad called four times to wake me up. Good news - I'm up. Bad news - I didn't study any more.

Here's hoping that Houston doesn't close down the freeways tomorrow. Fingers crossed for me!

The Rule of 5 and 3

The only thing blander than my posts about a pair of fat shoes (which I need to return to the store) and my impending liquid diet has to be my geekdom enjoying studying all things financial in the world of legal finance.

 

Under the Uniform Securities Act (USA for short – yes, really), the statue of limitations for criminal penalties is five years, the maximum fine is $5,000, and maximum sentence for prison is 3 years. 5-5-3. For civil penalties, the statue of limitation is either two years from the discovery of the offense or 3 years after the act occurred. 2-3. The fines are worse on the civil side. Under the Securities Act of 1933 (more three’s), a person that purchased a security based on a false or misleading statement of a material fact or omission can sue:

 

• Every person that signed the registration form
• All directors of the security issuer
• All their attorneys
• And their accountants (although presumably not your attorney’s accountants. Probably just the security issuer’s accountants)
• The appraisers
• The underwriters
• A parent company
• AND Everyone and their Mom for your court fees, attorney fees, and the cost of the security OR the current market value of the security, whichever is greater.

Here is what I learned today: Crime pays. Committing fraud doesn’t. As long as you don’t mind three years in a federal minimum security prison (and really, your sentence will most likely be reduced if you are a high-profile criminal like Martha Stewart on her insider trading charge), $5000 penalty, and the revocation of your securities license from here into eternity, a criminal charge is the way to go. Basically, make sure the profit from your crime is large enough to sustain you after you get out of prison, and after the civil litigation which will almost certainly ensue, because you most likely won’t be able to get a job and the talk show circuit only pays so much. Just keep that in mind That’s the rule of 5 and 3.

 

 

 

Curse this Blog

I have a bit of a blog curse with this blog. As soon as I write about how excited I am about someone or how much I like them, a gray cloud immediately hovers over the relationship. Sometimes I'm blinded by the lightening flashes, wondering "where in the hell did that come from" and other times its just a steady downpour of rain.

This weekend I was profoundly hurt by a series of bad decisions. It was one of those situations where I should have known far enough in advance that it was going to hurt, like when you avoid putting your hand directly over a hot stove because you know you are going to get burned. But I went and put my hand over it anyway because I thought that was what was expected of me. I try to be all bad ass on this blog and say, "fuck the expectations. I'm going to do it MY WAY" but really, I'm one giant pushover away from being a loud-mouth, passive aggressive woman that can't deal with other people's disappointment. So, I suppressed everything and tried to pretend that I wasn't really experiencing what I felt. At least I'm cognizant enough to know that never really works. Now, I'm left with a sea of questions and doubts.

I thought for sure that I had outsmarted the blog curse. I waited nine months to blog about someone that I was dating and he doesn't even read this blog! Surely, this was enough to allow me a little bit of space in my little sliver of the Internet. Guess I was wrong.

I consoled myself tonight with a blender. I actually bought one that wasn't the absolute cheapest on the market, which is a new experience for me. This baby has 450 watts of power and can crush ice in under three seconds. I've decided that I'll taper my meals down to the liquid diet, which starts on Friday. Instead of doing anything vaguely healthy with the blender, I decided to show Zac what a homemade milkshake tastes like.

Nothing like soothing myself with food. Just for the record, they were pretty damn good milkshakes. I have manged to learn everything and nothing, simultaneously.

EDITED: I was in the shower trying to wash the at-home hair dye out of my hair and realized that I had kind of threw Clicker under the bus. He's a generally good guy and I didn't acknowledge my responsibilities for some of the bad decisions that were made. So, to use a grossly drawn-out vague metaphor, I present (ta-da!) a trainwreck.

At any point, I could have stopped the train from colliding with another train, but I didn't. I could have stopped the engineer from getting into the engine and tooting the train's horn, but I didn't because I thought it would be fun to hear the engineer toot the train's whistle and I like the way the engineer wore his hat a little to the left at the thought of making a really loud noise. Then the train started rolling. I could have picked which track it went on, but I let someone else decide. Even when I saw the other train approaching, I could have said, "No! Wait! Put on the brakes. There is a train approaching!" but I didn't want to cause a false alarm on the slimmest of possibilities that we would avoid the collision. The engineer even turned to me and asked my opinion about the on-coming train and I shrugged my shoulders and thought it was going to be ok. Then, it was so not ok. It was a giant trainwreck in the middle of the damn tracks and now I wish I would have taken the bus instead. End of story.

Clicker!

Since I went on and on about Clicker in my last post, I thought I'd give you some more details about him. I should also probably mention that he doesn't read my blog, so I have free reign to write whatever I'd like about him. Sweet!

So, Clicker and I met off a website around April 2010 (we think - the exact date is a little fuzzy). I was attracted to his intelligence, confidence, and sweetness. He was a bit awkward in our initial phone calls, but he volunteered to drive down to meet me from Huntsville, TX. We got along great and started dating seriously after our second or third date. I had to get used to the fact that he was 2 1/2 years younger than me and he had to get used to the idea of dating a single Mom.

I think he met Zac fairly early on in our relationship. He was....how can I say this politely? A bit standoffish with Zac. He didn't want Zac getting too close to him and he didn't want to get too close to Zac. He thought the best way to avoid this was to not make any direct eye contact or indirect touching with Zac. Zac didn't care. Zac is a little like a cat. The more you try and avoid him the more he will put his butt in your face and swirl around your leg while you are trying to walk. If I don't tell you soon, remind me to tell you the story of Zac meeting the guy that helped me get my current job (and is now my parents' broker).

Anyways, back to Clicker. He knows more about cars, guns, computers, and video games than anyone I know. That doesn't sound like it would be attractive to me, but damn, being able to change my fuel pump over one hot, summer weekend is sexier than shit, even if he made me sit out there and randomly hand him tools. I'm fine with the guns as long as I don't see them and occasionally I like to quiz him during movies to tell me the manufacturer and caliber of the gun on the screen. I think he and I would make a kick ass team at Trivial Pursuit. Although he's a gun advocate, he's a liberal Democratic from a liberal family. He named himself Clicker from his time as a photojournalist with three newspapers. He takes amazing photos, which I'll post a couple of.

Basically, he's a great friend. We've been dating for about nine months and he's gotten much closer to Zac. He let Zac sit on his lap as he showed Zac how to play a car racing game on PS3. It was very sweet. Zac waits to pounce (I mean hug) him as he walks through the door and Clicker reads to him at night before I tuck Zac into bed.

Here's one of the first pictures he showed me on the website where we met:
(d'oh! No more pics of Clicker. Want to guess who asked me to take them down?)

And here are some that he took. These pictures are going to serve as my "before surgery" pictures. Clicker went with me on Zac's first day of school in August 2010 and photographed the whole drop-off:

Walking my buddy to the car. His backpack is almost as big as he is.

I'm pretty much in love with Zac's face in this picture.

That's my boy. God I love this kid and the man that took the picture.

Pre-Op Madness

I'm not sure if the word madness in the blog title refers to how disorganized the hospital was today or how I reacted to the constant waiting and general confusion. Turns out that after years of not being hormonal, I'm suddenly working like clockwork, once a month. It sucks, mostly because I can never remember how much time has elapsed between visits.

Well, it turns out that about four weeks have elapsed since my last hormonal roller coaster. I didn't realize that, of course, while I was waiting in three different waiting rooms at the fancy-schmancy hospital where I'm getting my surgery. Clicker, my boyfriend that I blogged about back in April, went with me, much to his dismay. The day started off with us arriving late to my first appointment to get an echo cardiogram and EKG. The primary reason I asked Clicker to go with me to my appointments was to help me get through the cardio tests. The last time I got an EKG, I started freaking out as soon as I laid on the hard table and the technician placed the sensors on my body. My heart rate was over 100 and I was told that I had tachycardia (Aunt Jen said that they were overreacting since a pulse rate of 100 is borderline). The technician told me to focus on calming down and left the room for a while. I meditated and got my pulse down to 80, right until the technician walked back in and my heart rate shot up to 100.

Today was a bit different, although even with Clicker there, my heart rate was still 94. We both got a great view of my heart during the echo, which was cool in its own right. Went then went one floor up, checked in with another receptionist and then waited for another 30 minutes. I was taken back alone to get an abdominal ultrasound (which involved a lot taking deep breaths and holding it, which gave me hiccups. After more undressing and putting on the world's smallest gowns, I waited in a private lounge for another 30 minutes and had a chest x-ray. Then I went back to the lounge, waited another 15 minutes, and got an upper GI exam complete with barium. The funniest part of that exam was drinking the barium, then being reclined completely on my back and being told to roll over in a complete circle. The doc said he wanted to coat my stomach. The only problem was that the examination machine was hanging just two feet from my body, so turning over and over was a bit difficult.

Almost an hour-and-a-half later, I reunite with Clicker and go up to the 22nd floor for "labs". At least that is what I was told I was getting. I was ushered into a hallway with chairs and told to wait there. I waited another 30 minutes and finally started complaining loud enough that called me back. Apparently, I was in the outpatient, walk-in clinic. Clicker and I went back to a room and waited. Then we waited some more. Finally, a nurse came in and told me that I was getting a pre-surgical evaluation by her. She got my vital signs (again) and told me to pee in a cup. While I was gone, one of her patients fell in the parking garage and had to be escorted to the ER. Clicker and I waited some more. She came back, I signed five consent forms and she said....wait for it....to wait some more. I had been fasting since midnight and had a headache. Apparently, I also had PMS. This is a combination leading to disaster. Add in over five pre-surgical procedures and five hours of wait time and I'm ready to kill someone.

Finally, I convince a woman to take my blood, although she doesn't know why she's doing it or how many vials of blood she needs to take. I get a call from the doctor's coordinator saying that I need to be medically cleared for surgery. I stared at the phone. What the hell had I been doing for the past six hours, if not getting medically cleared for surgery?

I don't understand. I'm confused and frustrated. This hospital is supposed to have a world-renowned bariatric center. All I got today was shuffled around and told they didn't have my orders for the test.

This sucks. It is most definitely, NOT the easy way out.