F
flutterbee
Guest
So, now I'm thinking that the 'I don't want to grow up' song in my head last night wasn't a subliminal message; it was a premonition.
My pain really kicked into high, high gear last night. Abbey, in her anesthetic stupor, peed in my bed last night and of course I didn't realize it until I get IN bed and pull the covers up and go...hmmm....that smells like pee....and it's wet...oh, maannnnnn. Changing the sheets on my bed at 2am in agonizing pain about sent me over the edge. (And no, I'm not upset with Abbey. She couldn't help it poor thing. The vet super-hydrated her for the procedure because of her kidneys and she had a hard time coming out of the anesthesia. Vet said it took her a lot longer to wake up than most kitties.)
Anyway.....
So, I call my GP to make an appointment. Something's gotta give with the pain, plus I wanted to do more blood work for inflammation so we can be documenting and charting this stuff. She's out until Monday. ARGH! But, the nurse grabbed her just before she walked out the door and she's called in steroids (oh joy) for me and told me to call the rheumy for the bloodwork since she's going to be out of the office. Fine. I call the rheumy even though he's 45 minutes away and I didn't want to have to go that far just to have blood drawn. He's out until Monday, too! Are you freakin' kidding me????? Are they going somewhere together or what?!!!
So, the nurse at my GP's office tells me to come in tomorrow and she'll draw the blood. That's wonderful.
Now, it was 60 degrees yesterday. It hasn't gotten above 30 and has been raining hard all day. We even had thunder. Tonight, easy child is driving me to the pharmacy to pick up the steroids - which I detest, by the way. Half a mile from home we hit this ginormous pothole (right in front of the hospital, no less...smelling a conspiracy?) that hadn't been there before. I mean, we go that way everyday. That hole was not there yesterday. easy child says, 'That couldn't have been good for the car.'
We go another 1/2 mile and I think it feels and sounds like the tire is flat. Turn off the radio and hear that familiar flapping sound of a flat tire. easy child noted that it was hard to keep the car straight. Great. I remain calm. So, I tell him to turn on this road and pull into the UDF and we'll change the tire. We get there and get out of the car. Do I have a flat tire? Nope. I have TWO flat tires. At this point the F word is flying out of my mouth like I belong on Jerry Springer. Few other choice words, too.
Called a friend who picked us up, took us to the pharmacy and brought me home. I am now waiting on the tow truck driver to come get my keys so he can tow my car (after he defrosts the ice off his windshield). My stupid Kia has high performance tires on it (came that way, so that's what they have to put back on) and the place in town doesn't always have those in stock. Plus, they're not cheap. I am keeping my fingers crossed that they have the tires and can get it done as I have various doctor appointments everyday the rest of the week.
And to top it off I get to spend the next 14 days on drugs that make me feel like crappola.
Stick a fork in me. I'm done.
My pain really kicked into high, high gear last night. Abbey, in her anesthetic stupor, peed in my bed last night and of course I didn't realize it until I get IN bed and pull the covers up and go...hmmm....that smells like pee....and it's wet...oh, maannnnnn. Changing the sheets on my bed at 2am in agonizing pain about sent me over the edge. (And no, I'm not upset with Abbey. She couldn't help it poor thing. The vet super-hydrated her for the procedure because of her kidneys and she had a hard time coming out of the anesthesia. Vet said it took her a lot longer to wake up than most kitties.)
Anyway.....
So, I call my GP to make an appointment. Something's gotta give with the pain, plus I wanted to do more blood work for inflammation so we can be documenting and charting this stuff. She's out until Monday. ARGH! But, the nurse grabbed her just before she walked out the door and she's called in steroids (oh joy) for me and told me to call the rheumy for the bloodwork since she's going to be out of the office. Fine. I call the rheumy even though he's 45 minutes away and I didn't want to have to go that far just to have blood drawn. He's out until Monday, too! Are you freakin' kidding me????? Are they going somewhere together or what?!!!
So, the nurse at my GP's office tells me to come in tomorrow and she'll draw the blood. That's wonderful.
Now, it was 60 degrees yesterday. It hasn't gotten above 30 and has been raining hard all day. We even had thunder. Tonight, easy child is driving me to the pharmacy to pick up the steroids - which I detest, by the way. Half a mile from home we hit this ginormous pothole (right in front of the hospital, no less...smelling a conspiracy?) that hadn't been there before. I mean, we go that way everyday. That hole was not there yesterday. easy child says, 'That couldn't have been good for the car.'
We go another 1/2 mile and I think it feels and sounds like the tire is flat. Turn off the radio and hear that familiar flapping sound of a flat tire. easy child noted that it was hard to keep the car straight. Great. I remain calm. So, I tell him to turn on this road and pull into the UDF and we'll change the tire. We get there and get out of the car. Do I have a flat tire? Nope. I have TWO flat tires. At this point the F word is flying out of my mouth like I belong on Jerry Springer. Few other choice words, too.
Called a friend who picked us up, took us to the pharmacy and brought me home. I am now waiting on the tow truck driver to come get my keys so he can tow my car (after he defrosts the ice off his windshield). My stupid Kia has high performance tires on it (came that way, so that's what they have to put back on) and the place in town doesn't always have those in stock. Plus, they're not cheap. I am keeping my fingers crossed that they have the tires and can get it done as I have various doctor appointments everyday the rest of the week.
And to top it off I get to spend the next 14 days on drugs that make me feel like crappola.
Stick a fork in me. I'm done.