Fate?

It was my first day in the student clinic yesterday. In the morning I just observed on some simple pain cases. In the afternoon, I got to work on my first patient (in tandem with a more experienced student, and two doctors). And the first one I worked on? Yup, an infertility patient.

It was like the giant hand of fate was pressing on my head as soon as I walked in the room and realized what she was there for. It was saying "you SHALL work on infertility cases whether you want to or not." Not that I don't want to, necessarily, but sometimes I'd like the illusion of having a choice.

God, the poor woman. I knew exactly how she felt as she started crying in despair at the conflicting instructions from her RE not to take Chinese herbs, and the exortations of the main clinic doctor to take herbs and just give them three months. What is a person to do when these forceful personalities are all saying that you have to follow them to the letter and NOT do what the other forceful personality is telling you to do. And then the exercise/don't exercise question cropped up. And of course somebody in the room told her to relax and she'd get pregnant, and she wailed "but it's been two years." Deja fucking vu all over again. I hope I'll be able to tell her soon that I've been there, and to actually help her.

Snippety

Miscellaneous snippets:

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A dear friend posted on her f-book page about how this was her first Christmas as a mother, and how she was more excited about seeing her boys with their gifts than about her own gifts. And it made me chuckle because of my own reaction. A few years ago in the throws of infertility angst, it would probably have made me seethe with jealousy, and I would have stifled a tear or two because she got to be a mother and I didn't. Or something. But now? Now I thought "awww, you were previously excited about your own gifts? Man, my family Christmas sucks ass in comparison then, because I'm never excited about getting gifts." I think the last time I can remember being excited about getting gifts was when I was about 7. I have been disappointed ever since. No, I should rephrase that. I don't get disappointed because I now have sufficiently low expectations. And actually, this year, I got quite a good haul - from the family I got some nice jammies (that I can get into - I have in the past received clothing that is too small, as a "hint" to make me want to lose weight), a cute silver necklace, a bottle of vino, and chocolate, and from friends I got an interesting cookbook, more vino, more chocolate, a cool reusable shopping bag, and a couple of gift cards. Not bad at all, really.

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I met a nice man who is interesting, and who maybe kinda seems interested in me. Whether it will go anywhere, I have no idea, as I am the worst, most lame person in the history of lameness at flirting. But he bought me a cup of coffee last week, and then on Thursday I got a Merry Christmas hug. So, we'll see. I hope he's the patient type. And that he perseveres in the face of lameness. But it has brought up all sorts of feelings about if I can get him to try to have kids together as a last ditch effort on my part (nota bene: we haven't even had a date yet, so this is wildly inappropriate thinking). And I came to a realization, which startled me. I realized that it is more important for me to approach any potential relationship in its own time, than to be a crazy person and try to rush somebody into ditching contraception just because I have a half-baked fantasy that 9 IVFs were wrong and that I'm actually still fertile. So, finally, a relationship will be more important to me because of its own merits than because of anything it can provide me in the way of kids. I think that's a pretty huge step, as it means I am at last putting away all of the kid fantasies, and am getting on with real life. Whatever real life has in store.

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I freakin' love the public library. Just saying. Every time I go (which is sadly not often these days due to school commitments) I am bowled over by how libraries have changed with the times. You can renew books over the internet. You can order them over the internet. They have magazines! DVDs! All sorts of things. For freeeeee. Awesomeness. If only they had all my school books, I'd be set, as I wouldn't have to pay hundreds of dollars every year to get new text books. Anyway, this year I am determined to keep going to the library even during school time, so I can have a little mental break from studying with some nice piece of fiction, or whatever.

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Merry New Year, one and all. I hope that if you are crushed by your own infertility pain (or any pain, really), that 2010 is the year that things finally go your way. Even if that means getting off the pain treadmill and finding other things to do with your life. Because that can be rewarding too, I promise.

Do you dream of home?

I don't know about you, but until recently I never dreamt of my own house when dreaming of anything set at any home. It was always either the house I grew up in (I lived in the same house from the time I was 6 months old until I left home at 18) or my paternal grandparents' house (similarly, they never moved when I was a kid). Even if the dream was set in the present day. Or if I was conjuring up a scene from a book. It would be set in one of those houses. Other relatives' homes or even other homes that I have lived in never really factored in to the equation, even though they or I may have stayed in them for long periods of time, but I assumed that because they were not "permanent" meant they were lost to my unconscious. Although sometimes I'd dream of my maternal grandparents, and those were set at the house they lived in the longest (that I remember), but if they weren't the main characters in the dream, their house wasn't in it either. I suppose I assumed you get hard wired to certain archetypes of "home" so I figured mine was set. I'd be interested how those of you that moved around as kids dream of home.

Until this weekend. I dreamt of my current house. But more specifically, it was a bit of a nightmare. You see, my house got broken into. AGAIN. And I lost my brand new laptop, and more importantly, more sentimental jewelry (my mother's and great-grandmother's engagement rings). The police said that I'm now being targeted and watched, because now they know that I live alone, that I'm out of the house a lot, the house isn't very secure, there's no big dog, and I have expensive taste in electronics (I'm paraphrasing here). And there's a huge crime wave in the neighborhood and they're trying really hard to catch them.

Blah. This time the front door was damaged as they jimmied the lock. I have had it repaired, but I have ordered a new, swankier, tougher door, with no soft wood that can be splintered with a pry-bar type of a deal. I can't wait for it to be installed, as I don't feel all that safe any more. [Yes, the alarm was on, and went off, but it was a smash, run in and grab type thing. They were long gone before the police and I arrived.] I also have the alarm company coming on Wednesday to beef up the alarm system.

So, my dream. I dreamt that I was in my house, my current house, and there were evil zombie-type people outside trying to get in. They were banging against the living room window and the front door, rattling things, and generally being very menacing and zombie like. But in the dream I knew that I had awesome and terrible magic power, and so I raised myself up and boomed out "by the power vested in me, you shall NOT gain access to this house. This house is SAFE. You will LEAVE this property and not gain entry." And I zapped 'em with the power rays coming out of my hands. And then there were all the zombies with their hands on the windows, melting away and dying these rather horrible deaths. But oh, the evil looks that they gave me as they writhed and melted away were awful and fearsome, and I knew that it was not over and that they were going to try to come back again.

I just need to find my inner awesome and terrible power and make my house safe again, and then I'll be good.

Up, Down, On Pain

Have you seen the movie "Up" - you know, the animated one with the old guy and the house and balloons and the little fat kid?

I rented it last night. Oh my lord, it made me bawl. I'm not sure that that was the intended effect on the moviegoing public, seeing as it's a Disney movie, and all, and I'm sure it is supposed to be a comedy. But still, there was bawling in my house. The kind of crying that is so loud and involved that you have to snort hard to get gasps of breath in your body inbetween wails. The kind of crying that makes your cat look up in alarm at the terrible racket you are making.

You see, at the beginning there's a little montage of the history of how the old crotchety guy got to be the old crotchety guy. It's lovely really, but includes a tiny scene where him and his wife suffer what appears to be the loss of a pregnancy and then never have kids. Presumably because they can't. And of course, to an infertile, this cuts like a knife wound, so it started me off with the sobbing. Of course, they make the best of things, and have a lovely relationship which is shown over the years, but which to my eyes was always tinged with the sadness of what never was. And yet they never get to go off and have the adventures they dreamed of, because there's always some emergency or other to pay for. And then the wife dies. And the man loses his last link to happiness, but has to carry on in his lonely life. And that had me wailing even harder.

It got me thinking of course, if they HAD been able to have children, would we have NOT expected them to still dream of having adventures? Is having children enough of an adventure that it leads to a satisfying life? I think the general answer is yes - it is an adventure into how you can live with your heart walking around outside of your body, in having your heart opened up so wide, with learning about responsibility and caring and having to be there and having to be responsive to that little being even when every fiber of your being is worn out, worn down and just plain bored of just one more repetition of "the wheels on the bus" or whatever. But those of us that do not have children, we seem to be expected to go out and find that grand adventure, that BIG life that is allegedly denied to those with children, to find meaning elsewhere. And if we don't do that, are we failures to be pitied? I suppose we are. I suppose I was pitying the old guy in the cartoon. I suppose that's what I was meant to do. And then we are supposed to cry again at the happy, yet poignant, ending montage. Which I did too. Of course there's a happy ending. It's Disney. And WE have to hope for a happy ending too.

And yet, there's a story there about loss here. And yes, redemption. There is so much love and loss, and pain in the world, that anything that shows it breaks my heart open anew these days. Any death of a child, of a spouse, of a sibling, of a parent, of any loved one, is terrible. Any infertility, especially if it involves a permanent loss - of a pregnancy, of a hope, of a dream, of a link to a genetic child, is terrible. But what gets me is the people who are left behind, who have to soldier on. Who have to continue living their life because it's not their time to die too. What a terrible fate. We who are left behind have to wallow in the grief even while we're secretly waiting for our own improbable Disney-like happy ending, for redemption, for a fat, obnoxious, annoying kid to knock on our door and change our lives.

And yet, I have seen my own pain and how it has changed me. Inside. Without a kid coming along and doing it for me. And would I change that for all the world? That realization that I can change my viewpoint about things and see the good in the bad? Actually, of course I would. I'm not yet so evolved that I cherish all of my pain, that I wouldn't gladly have changed it for success - but I CAN see that it has been in some ways beneficial. That it IS changing my life for the better, and that I can cherish parts of it, parts of my journey. And I am thankful that I can see that much. So why can't I see that pain for others could be good too, in the end? I suppose it's because we all just want to spare everyone from the depths of despair. We see pain in others, yes, even in a Disney cartoon, and are reminded of our own torment. And that hurts.

Nobody wants to go through the depths, the dark night of the soul, and yet the depths is precisely where the rebirth of a new hope, a new life, a new light can take place. It's a scary, horrible place, and not everyone has that new hope experience of course, but I wish, I wish, that those that ARE in pain, that have to go through it, can get something good out of it. I wish that we all could fully live in this wonderful adventure of life. Fully live. Even if we have to suffer through pain and loss and disappointment while we're doing it. I wish we could fully take to heart the words of the wise people who have been there before us and come out the other side. I wish we could all find the joy in pain.

On pain

And a woman spoke, saying, Tell us of Pain.

And he said:

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;

And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your field.

And you would watch with serenity though the winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.

It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility;

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,

And the cup he brings, though it burns your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with his own sacred tears.

From The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran

A funny thing happened

See, I was just thinking "hmmm, I really better do a blog post before my 2 remaining readers think I have shuffled off this mortal coil..." when my A/C broke. What's that got to do with blogging, you might wonder. Well, if one doesn't have A/C it gets kinda hot. And when it's kinda hot, you tend to open a window. Or two. So there is my house, sitting there with windows open while I am at work one Friday, thinking "I really should call the A/C repair guys, but I don't want to spend the money and maybe I can last out until the cool weather arrives." And wouldn't you know it, the open windows looked so inviting that a couple of guys just couldn't resist popping the screens off the windows and climbing in. In broad daylight. On a Friday afternoon. As some of my neighbors were walking past with their dogs, and shouting that they were calling the police. So, that was that for my laptop. And my iPod. And some jewelry. Sigh. Off it all went into one of my pillowcases and on to whatever pawn shop/fence is currently paying the most for such things.

So, no computer = no blogging. And you thought I was just lazy - shame on you. Well, OK, I am lazy. Uh, I mean, busy. Uh, well, not living an interesting infertility-related life. But now I have finally got myself a new computer, so I feel obliged to post that I am not dead.

I am doing OK, actually. I'm taking stock of the fact that I'll probably never have kids. You'd think I would have been dealing with that all along, and I have. Kind of. But I always had this fantasy that I'd meet a nice guy and get knocked up the old fashioned way, against all the odds. But the odds are climbing higher and higher every day so it's featuring less and less in my imaginings of what my life is going to be like in the future. And that's surprisingly OK. I spend some time every now and then imagining my child-free life, and it brings me comfort. In fact, it's been one of the main ways that I have used in order to be able to crawl out from the pit of despair. What I do is picture myself at 70 and see what I've been able to accomplish without children - what sort of life I've built for myself. See, without paying for kids' things, and school and college, without needing to live in a place with extra bedrooms in a good school district, I figure you can afford to make different life choices.

In my imaginings I have built up a picture of myself as a thin, elegant lady who lives in a bijou apartment in NYC (or some other great city like Paris or London), who you might find dashing off to a yoga class, or to the library, or to tea with a dear friend, or to a free concert in Central Park. I have a small wardrobe of high quality designer clothes, and I have minimal but carefully cherished possessions. I am happy and serene, and although I don't live an expensive life, it is interesting and fulfilling.

It's funny, when I first started doing this, I set myself a task of picturing ANY sort of life, money no object, reality be damned - let's just picture anything that might make me happy without kids. I had spent so much of my life imagining that kids were the natural progression that I couldn't picture an adulthood without them. So I felt that I had to re-imagine life, and come up with a goal. And this is what gradually emerged. No fabulous yacht sailing around the south Pacific islands, no large mansion, not really anything that wasn't totally unattainable. So when I am wallowing in pity or feeling annoyed with life, I return to this picture, and try to put into action concrete steps that will help me get from here to there. I mean, without kids, why not be totally selfish and just make a life that will feel right.

So, I am doing yoga. I am doing it 2 or 3 times a week, and am getting back to bendiness and am gaining some good muscles. I am slowly losing the weight I gained doing infertility treatments. It's taken me over a year, but I am down nearly 25 pounds. I have a ways to go, but one of these days I will be in shape. Each time something no longer fits right, I am being brutal about putting it aside to take to Goodwill. I am no longer hanging on to bigger clothes in case I need them when I am pregnant. Slowly my giant wardrobe that is mostly clothes I can't fit in is being whittled down. Not that I'm at the stage of buying expensive designer things to replace the stuff I am giving away, but I am trying to think about buying things that are stylish and work well together. See, they're little steps, but they are actual, concrete steps that help me to feel like I am doing something. That I am creating my imagined life.

And there's school. It's a little (lot) crazy right now because we have a big comprehensive year-end exam coming up. But I am liking my class (yes, even the annoying guy has calmed down a lot and is growing on me), I am liking what I am learning and I can use it as an opportunity to have a fulfilling not-too-stressful job and to move anywhere I want when I graduate. And maybe I will move nowhere at all, and will stay put. But it'll be a choice because I like my friends and my life here, rather than just being in my current city because that's where my job is.

So. There. That's where my head is. If I could give one piece of advice to anyone mired in the pain of infertility, it's to start imaging a life without kids. Maybe you'll find that parenting really is the most important thing, and you'll adopt or succeed through treatment. Or maybe you'll find that life might not be so bad and lonely after all.

The Infertility Book

What, wait, where did a whole month go since I last posted?

Sorry about that. Well, not that many people care, but hey. I feel that I don't really have all that much to say. I don't have a kid I can post regular updates on, and it's not like I suddenly have any great insight into how to fix infertility. I mean, I'm learning more each week about acupuncture theories and about the points, and how to tie it together into treatments, but am not yet in any position to really pull everything together in a cogent way. And there's only so many times I can post "I'm really busy" before it gets uber-tedious. But if you were to walk into the student clinic next semester with low back pain, and I was working there, I finally know what to do off the top of my head without having to go and look it up in the book. Woot.

However, I will report that I spend much of my time when I am aimlessly driving to and from the grocery store, or other humdrum activity, mentally composing the introduction to my great work - the book to end all books on infertility. Hah. If only, eh? But, just so you know, it starts off humbly detailing my abject failures in IVF, goes on to say how I met my wonderful husband (already we're in fantasy land here, because no wonderful husband is yet in sight), how I naturally conceived quickly (snort), had my amazing child at 42/43/44, then went on to discover how to reliably treat infertility patients in my busy and successful acupuncture practice (lalalalala-land). OR, in the alternative version, it starts off by saying that even though I remained an abject infertile failure, I still have something to say on the topic. Due to said fabulous and successful acupuncture practice. Bwahahaha.

My interest was piqued this week by news that my school is thisclose to starting up a PhD program in acu. And that certain students in my class (who are, ahem, not quite as brainily inclined as moi) are contemplating doing it once we have graduated from the Masters program. And I thought, hey, why are they contemplating it, and not I?? If it takes a few years to build a practice, and you are effectively experimenting on your patients during that time, to find out what really works for you, why not spend that time really experimenting, by formally conducting research and writing a thesis? Into infertility, of course. And then use said research as the basis for my aforementioned fantasy book.

I have no idea how the financing would work out, or if I really could do this, or what. But it certainly gives me something else to mentally chew over in the car. I wonder if the local IVF clinic would cut a deal with an old patient and do a joint study with me? Hmmm....

The school food hierarchy

It seems at an alternative health type school, we are all a bit freaky about our eating. Or perhaps we all just only pretend to be uber-healthy when in public, and secretly scarf down pints of ice cream at home (as I did tonight, but I don't mind telling you guys because I freakin' enjoyed it, damn it).

Anyway, it seems to be a cool acupuncture student you must:

Only eat home-cooked food (commercially prepared food is so last century).

Only eat organic food (duh).

Only eat Chinese-style food (because we're studying Chinese medicine, after all).

Only eat out of pyrex containers (because plastic is bad).

Only use the toaster oven to heat up said home-cooked Chinese-style food in said pyrex containers (because microwaves are evil).

Only use your own chopsticks that you bring from home (forks are for idiots).

Except for the bozos like me who bring in an Amy's frozen meal and nuke it in the microwave. Which I then eat with a good old-fashioned western-style fork. I felt so embarrassed at school yesterday with two frozen meals - one for lunch and one for dinner. The sodium! The laziness! The horror! Ah well. I guess I am not cool after all.

Perhaps in a week or two when the crushing exhaustion that comes with the start of the semester lifts I will start trying to cook for myself again. But for now, Amy's is all I can muster the energy for.

Scheduling

So, all that house cleaning that I was determined I was going to do on my break? Yeah, it didn't happen. I mean, some cleaning happened. Some closet clearing and such. But not the big spring clean that it really needed. And it is back to school tomorrow, so it is back to the time crunch.

Of course, instead of actually cleaning the whole house today, I have written myself out a detailed chore schedule, which I'm going to print and stick on the fridge. And oh yes, you betcha it has spaces for check marks to fill in when I have completed something.

Despite my love of study schedules, I am really not the type of person that loves to schedule the remainder of my time. I like to do things as I feel like them rather than have a routine. I like NOT knowing that Monday is laundry night, or whatever. I think it comes from my childhood, where we had a rigid meal schedule. I mean, sure, I liked casserole, but that didn't mean that I wanted to have it every Tuesday. Or fish sticks every Saturday. So I have generally lived a bit more free flowing than that. Which is fine and dandy if you have the time, but I don't any more. I don't have the time to catch up, because if I don't feel like emptying the dishwasher today, there's no freakin' time to spend tomorrow to do it.

But I also just cannot allow things to disintegrate around the house as I have done the past two semesters. I cannot be too embarrassed to have people come to my home. I cannot live like a slob any more. Thusly, the schedule.

On today's docket:

AM:

Go for a walk - not done, but I did some yardwork that I should have done yesterday, so I'm counting it as done as that's enough exercise for the day.

Laundry - check. Well, it's in the washer, but not completed.

Clean out kitty litter - check.

Clean shower - not yet

PM:

Buy groceries - not yet

Load today's dishes into dishwasher - not yet, or yesterday's dishes if I'm being honest

Clean kitchen surfaces - not yet

Take out garbage and recycling - not yet

Spend 6 mins* dusting/vacuuming - not yet

Do qi gong - not yet

Oh lordy. It seems such a huge and insurmountable list when it's written out. Maybe I'd better get on with it. At least today there's no work to get in the way so I can do things leisurely around the studying and hulu watching that is also going on.

*the 6 mins of dusting and vacuuming is because I have a handheld Dyson that I can use for both. And its battery only lasts for 6 minutes on one charge. The plan is to just go at a portion of the house until the battery dies. And the next day do the next portion of the house, and repeat on most days until eventually I am back to where I started.

I used to be a blogger

Whenever I read about how another blogger, no, let me correct myself, a blogger is feeling bad because she's out of touch, and then goes on to explain in detail why, it reminds me just how out of touch I am now. Because I'm always way more out of touch than they are. Way, way more. I basically read about three blogs now. No, strike that. At any one time I may, on a good day, read three blogs. But that covers about 10 actual blogs - it's just that some of them may only get read once in three months, whereas others I might read, ooh, as often as once every three days. Not three times a day as I sometimes used to.

It's my own fault, I know. But where do you fit once you've had an infertility blog and then given up? Most infertility blogs morph into mommy blogs, and hooray for that. But I'm not even writing about getting on with life after infertility. I mean, sure, I could post every time I'm wistful, or jealous, or bitter, or even dream about something (last night I dreamt I had a fantastic beta result - that was a disappointing wake up moment, I can tell ya). But I think that would rapidly get boring, because who wants to hear all the time that I'm wistful? Or even, happy. Because, yes, most of the time I'm actually happy these days. Thank GOD I am not going through infertility any more. Thank the little baby jesus for that.

So instead, I don't blog about anything really. Which is even more boring I'm sure. So here are some snippets:

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I have finally discovered hulu.com. And am working my way through the entire back catalog of Arrested Development. Love that show! And by the way, has anyone seen Dr. Horrible's Singalong Blog? Genius.

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I have, for the first time ever, almost thrown out some books. I say "almost" because I have two piles - one to go to work to our employee "library" and one pile to go in the recycling bin (all useless free books that came with magazines that are really more booklets than books). But they haven't made it out of the house yet, and so I could still chicken out.

You see, I am trying to pare down my stuff so that it actually fits within the storage that I have available. So far this week I've worked through my closet (apart from the shoes and dresses) and my t-shirt drawer. And one bookshelf. It's a start people, it's a start. I have this dream of living this very minimalist, organized, neat and tidy life, which is sadly always destroyed due to my love of shopping. And my habit of not fitting into 3/4 of my clothes as I gain and lose weight. But really, there's no need for me to have 5 pairs of black ballet flats. Or 7 pairs of sneakers. Or 6 pairs of black pants. I am slooowly improving on that score. Why, just this week I resisted buying another pair of sneakers, but instead am throwing away the pair that I've been wearing as they're now falling apart, and have dug an old pair out of the back of the closet. So what if they made my feet bleed the last time I wore them? I will wear them in and make use of them, damn it.

One of these days I shall be that elegant lady who lives in a miniscule apartment with minimal possessions, but each of whose possessions are treasured, wonderful quality, just so, and fabulous. Even if it takes me until I am 90.

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Still haven't rejoined a dating site. But I'm still working on it. Kinda sorta.

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Cousin was not sent overboard by Hurricane Bill. But last heard of was in danger due to (remains of?) tropical storm Danny. Ah well, I'm sure they will go back out to sea again, and ride this one out too.

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I'm actually looking forward to school starting up again. At least while at school I'm busy as anything and feeling like life has a purpose. The many evenings of doing nothing this week have just been a reminder of my lack of social life. Hence trying to update my blog on a Saturday night instead of going out and having fun. Bleh. OK, back off to hulu...

Refreshed?

I am home.  Tired, but home. I made the possibly mistaken decision to drive all the way home from Asheville, NC to So. Fla. in one day. Through a giant rainstorm that lasted all through Georgia.  So today, I ache. And I feel depleted. And all kinds of tired.

But I had a lovely time. I feel renewed and refreshed. I feel ready to tackle projects around the house, and projects in my life.  Why, I even started on an online dating profile. Whether I actually complete any of these projects is another matter of course, but I took the opportunity of being on vacation to take lots of photos of myself for said profile, so we'll see.  The photo posted here is not, of course, of me, but of some flowers from Biltmore Estate.  They have quite lovely gardens there, I must say.  Perhaps I will post more soon when I have more energy.

*****

I have arrived home to a freaking-out aunt.  My cousin, last we heard of him, was in a fishing boat off the Grand Banks near Newfoundland in an area called the Flemish Cap.  [Such is my family - you never know what will crop up next.] In case you've never heard of the area (and I must admit, I hadn't), it's where Perfect Storm is set. Where the Titanic sank.  In other words, not a pleasant place to be on a fishing boat when a hurricane is bearing down on  you. The boat is going to go further out to sea in the hopes of avoiding the storm, but one never knows with these things if a storm will jog off its predicted course at the last minute.  And of course, being an idiot, I have promptly opened up my copy of Perfect Storm and started freaking myself out by reading about the harsh conditions.  So, if you are the praying type (or the sending good thoughts type), please send some thoughts for all the shipping vessels that are in the way of the current hurricane. We always breathe a sigh of relief when these things are predicted to avoid land, but of course on this crowded planet there are always some people who are in the path of danger. And as one of them is a relative of mine this time, that is where my thoughts are straying.

School's out for summer

I get a whole 3 weeks off. So I am heading off on vacation for 1 week, then I'll be back in town.

I was pleased with the final week at school. I did the best in class at the Chinese massage first time around (although he let people have another try the following day if they wanted to improve their grade so it ended up that I was not the only A).  The other exams went well - I underperformed slightly on one (it was damn hard) but then so did most everyone else. By the time he added in the grades from the quizzes we'd done during the semester, and he curved a bit, I was back up to where I wanted to be.  So I think I'll either have straight A's, or one A-. Wait, do you count A-'s as being included in "straight A" tallies? I never know if you should or not. I guess there's always a chance of an A+ from anatomy this semester (haven't seen that grade, but she's generous and gave me A+ last time), so maybe if I do get an A- that will be cancelled out.

Anyway, I shouldn't be so concerned. It's not freakin' Harvard. A good grade doesn't make a good acupuncturist. But I keep thinking that if there are opportunities to go and study in China, or to intern with the best professors, they will go to the high performing students, and that's one reason why I keep trying to do well. And there's the little matter of my own Type A tendencies coming to the fore, I guess.

Back in town in a week, barring hurricanes. 

Just so you know...

It took until Tuesday morning to get an (almost) definitive answer on the question of whether I was fired or not. My department head said "well, I don't think you were fired. Maybe they just cut your benefits." Then the office manager expounded on how you have to do 30 hours a week for benefits, and maybe they were looking at certain figures and not other figures and that could be an answer. To which I replied that they would still have had to have given me advanced notice. And that it would be nice if someone, anyone, had shown a bit more confidence in whether I was still an employee or not.  Even my own boss. And the HR woman, when she finally got back to me sent me a one line email saying "I show you as OK."  Which raised the question as to precisely what OK meant.

But on Tuesday morning the HR woman sent me an email saying that she had spoken to the insurance company and that my benefits had been reinstated.  No confirming that it had been a mistake, or apologizing for the stress, or anything. Thanks a lot, employer, for all the warm and fuzzies.

Snippets

Packing: such a chore since moving to S. Fla. Everywhere else that I go is cooler than here, but yet how much cooler? Does one take endless sweaters or does one assume that it's summer and will be plenty hot enough, thank you. I am going on vacation in a week (yay!) and am trying to figure out what on earth I will wear.  The high temperature will be about 83. Which is the current overnight low at home. And the low will be a nippy 61. But that's when I'll be tucked up in bed. How cool will the evenings be? Will I be shivering if I don't take fleece and woolies? I am not so tolerant of low temperatures now that I'm a tropical little flower.  And then there'll be some hiking in the mountains. I'm only used to hiking in England, where one basically prepares for a blizzard, or at the very least, a freezing downpour, and hopes like hell that one won't encounter that. Will I feel like a tool if I'm wrapped up as if for winter with my Kendal mint cake in my giant backpack and everyone else is in shorts and t-shirts? Will I end up with a suitcase the size of a house to account for all the layers of clothes I will have to take?

School: we were discussing Type A personalities in Anatomy class, you know, how they're hard driving people that aren't happy unless they get 100 on their tests.  Half the heads in the class swiveled in my direction with knowing grins. What? Said I. That is SO not me. I am PERFECTLY HAPPY with a 99!  Heh. Coming from a law firm where I am one of the most type B people in the place, it amuses me that I appear type A to my classmates. Of course, I'm sure I'm a bit of both, and I do love me a 100 on a test...

More on school: we were doing some qi gong the other day in class, and had to hold our balls of qi in front of us (imaginary energy, that is) with our eyes shut.  I was pronounced the best, because the teacher could feel heat in-between my hands, and I opened my eyes when he moved his hand between my two. I felt a slight breeze when he did it, so I don't know if there was anything really to it or if there was a slight bit of physics-nerd cheating going on, but hey. I went up in the estimation of some of my classmates, and more importantly, in the eyes of the teacher. The daily qi gong practice is really paying off with the hot hands thing.

Work: my buddy at work swears that he was told that nobody from our office was getting laid off, and nobody from our department either. So he thinks that I am NOT fired, but I'm still awaiting the verdict. He concurs with me that I may have been on a "bad list" of people with low billable hours, but then they realized that I was part time.  But the "bad list" might have gone to the health insurance people.  Or something.  He said I should have called our boss to find out for sure, but I didn't want him going loopy on the HR people at the weekend, or having the awkward "ah well, I was going to tell you on Monday..." conversation on the phone, so I didn't. We will see. My classmate who I carpool to school with on Saturdays says that even if I AM fired, things happen for a reason, and on the whole I agree with her, so I'm not stressing too much.

Babies: I find myself wistful again for babies. I mourn the passing of each ovulation, as I'm no nearer to finding a reliable source of sperm. I tend to think that I'll need the hormone surge of a new relationship to have any hope of conceiving, so I don't think that ordering a man in a can will do me any good. I have plans to get out and about to new places while on summer break, so you never know, maybe I'll meet me a nice guy at a Buddhist meditation class.

Oops! You're fired!

I arrived home today to a certificate from the health insurance company that I had coverage up to 8/1/09.  I blinked. And turned it over, and blinked again. Yup. There was a clear "date coverage ended" field that was filled in.

I emailed someone in HR. Of course, being as it was 7pm on a Friday night, I do not expect much of a response until Monday. I called the insurance company.  Oh no, the lady said, it's not a mistake. We received paperwork which included a termination date of August 1, 2009.  Right, said I, but if that paperwork was sent to you by mistake, because either it's that or my employer forgot to mention that they fired me, forgot to march me out of the building, and forgot to disconnect my email, what happens to me if I get in a car crash this weekend?  Oh, she said, well, if they write to us and explain that it was a mistake, we'd give you the coverage back retroactively. But they'll have to send us the paperwork, we can't do anything about it based on your say-so. Obviously not, says I. Convenient that it's a Friday night, isn't it?

The thing is, normally I'd blow this off as a silly mistake, but they DID lay off some people last Friday. August 1st. Although I think they were given a week's notice until today but I'm not sure.  So it could be that my name was included in the paperwork for a reason.  And in this economy you can't exactly take a job for granted.

Or it could just be a misunderstanding. They could have just effed it up again. My HR stuff is ALWAYS effed up.  First of all, there is someone else at my employer with the same first and last name as me. Which is not unique in the company, as it's fairly large. In fact, at one point there were 3 guys with the same name and I think two of them had the same middle initial too. But despite the fact that you'd think they'd plan that over a certain size there could very well be people with similar or the same names, they still eff stuff up because of it.  Second, I am the only one in my company with my job title right now.  Well, we used to have 4 people in the same job but the other 3 have all left. And it doesn't quite fit nicely in the usual categories, so they often make the rules up as they go along.  Leading to effed-uppedness. Third, I'm now ALSO part time, which effs things up even more.

Sigh.  I know I should be grateful that I have a job. And I AM, trust me.  My bro' has now been unemployed for 11 months. I know the deal.  It'd just be nice not to be scared shitless by your mail.

Not-so-secret Hermione

I admit it, I relish big exams. I relish a studying challenge. Well, I hate it while doing it, but I enjoy the challenge, the planning, the feeling of undertaking a giant mission. And finally, and most importantly, the relief and sense of accomplishment when it is all done.  But I'm talking the really big exams here. The bar exams. The boards. Finals at college that are really finals - i.e. year or course-end cumulative finals.

When I did my equivalent of bar exams in the UK, back in the day, I'd go to a quiet corner of the law library and settle myself in, plotting out 12 hour days. Yes, 12 hours. That was only at the very end, of course, when I took some time off work to study. Prior to that it had been mere 8 hour days at weekends. I'd plan out what I'd study, when I'd take breaks. Where I'd eat. All of that. And then I'd hole myself up, dig in, and not permit myself any distractions. 

For acupuncture, the big deal is the boards. There are 4 boards as far as I can tell, although it may be 5 - I get confused because they changed the rules, and then people complained and they changed them back. So sometimes I think something is right, but then I find that that was what it was going to be, but isn't now. Confusing, huh. You have to pass varying numbers for licensing in various states.  For my state, I could get away with 3, although my plan is to do all 4 (or 5) so that I could possibly move to another state if I wanted to. Besides, it's just better to do them all.  Some of them I can do pre-graduation, after a certain number of credit hours, some I may wait until after graduation.  In preparation for the boards, my school has cumulative year-end exams. So at the end of the first year, you review anything you've ever studied that might come up on the boards. At the end of the second year, ditto. At the end of the third year, you're basically taking exams that are the equivalent of the boards, so it's good practice.

We got our class schedules for next semester this week (although I should say trimester as there are three terms in the school year, not two, but trimester is uncomfortably pregnancy-related), and there looming on it is the year-end exam.  It scared me at first, and I felt like I couldn't possibly fit in enough studying for it. But then my inner Hermione kicked in, and I dug out a notebook and started mapping out a study plan. It is uber-ambitious. My classmates would probably kill me if they found out how much I'm planning on doing.  But several of them have said they're just going to study all semester long, and that's what I'm planning, so maybe they are being equally ambitious.  Although I tend to like to go back and read the textbooks and then study from study aids or tables, rather than stick with the Cliff notes all along.  I am probably therefore planning on more hours than most.

Doing the study plan made me feel good in the moment, but now I have to admit, looking at it gives me a sinking feeling in my stomach again. Erk.  OK, I just have to keep my eyes on the prize. Relish the challenge, and all that. I can DO this. 

Where was I?

Oh yes, when last you heard from me I was bone tired. It was just a phase, and now I am back to my usual vim and vigor.  Well, OK, not vim or vigor exactly, but not deadbeat tired either.

I feel oddly disconnected from the world, and it's almost entirely of my own choosing. That and, you know, busy-ness.  Work has "upgraded" our internet experience, which means that I can no longer access any blogspot or typepad or any number of bloggy-type sites from the office. I suppose it's fair, given that I am supposed to be there working and not goofing off and surfing, but it does cut into my access to the world somewhat. You'd think that I'd fire up the old internet when I get home, but I am mostly reluctant to these days. I feel worn out by sitting in front of a computer screen all day at work, so that I don't want to turn the damn thing on at home. So, even though previously I was hopelessly behind in blog reading, now I'm woefully behind.  I don't even want to fire up the TV either. In fact, I can't remember the last time it was actually turned on. I think I watched a rerun of House about 3 weeks ago.  Now I get my news and entertainment from NPR, the New York Times online, and a music station (the best of the 80's, 90's and today, don't ya know).  And that's pretty much it.  I am turning into a hermit, rereading old familiar books when I should be studying. And studying when I should be sleeping. Although I did go and see the Harry Potter movie last weekend with my tenant/roommate. And was sorely disappointed at its slow pace and lack of magicky action. Sigh.

And then I got a private message from an IVF board. Asking me questions based on a post of mine from 18 months ago. I'm too tired and heart sore to respond to it. I have nothing to add to anyone's fertility journey at the moment. I have no expertise that I wish to pour forth. I am tired of being barren and childless. Tired of being single. Tired of knowing all about IVF cycles. Tired of trying to be healthy so that I might have a chance of a fertile egg before my ovaries completely shrivel up, although given that I am making no headway in finding a boyfriend, what's the damn point?  No, actually, it's not true that I am trying to be healthy just for the sake of my eggs. I am trying to be healthy because I am aging, and I don't want to be a miserable old lady with aches and pains. The egg thing is just wistful nonsense.

Bah. This post is coming off all bitter and twisted, which is not what I wanted. Mostly I am doing fine these days. I am enjoying school, and am slowly climbing the mountain of information I have to cram into my brain before I graduate. I am enjoying most of my fellow students (except for the asshole, who annoys me daily - I am starting to think that he is the cross I have to bear, the one that has been sent to test my patience so that I can finally dispense with my ego and let the annoyances wash over me. Or something. Well, let's face it, if I don't tell myself that he was sent to try me, all that is left is believing that he's just an asshole. And I'm trying to think better of him than that.)  I have melancholy moments when I think about being childless and a failure in that department.  But they do not make up the majority of my days.  Most of my days are spent trying to remember exactly what a purplish-blue tongue means as opposed to a purplish-red tongue, or exactly what acupuncture point SJ 19 is for, or doing endless hours of practice at twisting needles or massage techniques. Or some such.  I don't have any miraculous cures for anyone out there at the moment, though I will say: take Floradix liquid iron + herbs, and get thee some B12 shots (or, failing that, the dissolvable sublingual B12 tablets). Not very Chinese-y, I know.  But you'll thank me in the end.

Energy shmenergy

I am tired. Bone tired. Weary. Just...tired.

I have not been sleeping well lately, combined with going to bed later than I used to, combined with stress at work and school, and...it turns me into a tired, irritable lady. I have booked a vacation for the summer break, but that's a month away. And I have a bunch of exams between now and then. Grumble, grumble, grumble. It all makes me wonder what on earth I am doing, signing up for this school thing and having the audacity to think that I can just change my career like that. Some days I think I'll never be a good acupuncturist, because I just don't have time to practice or do enough other things to hone the physical side of this job. And then there are SO many things to memorize and learn.

Sigh.

In other news, a few of us were discussing chakras and acu in one of our breaks. They don't teach us about the chakras at school (being as it's not strictly part of Chinese theory) but there are some books out there on it, and some practitioners work with the chakras. I find it pretty interesting - after all, if this stuff is real, it should all work and all the different energy medicine theories should line up and have plenty of correspondences. If it's all voodoo, it won't.

But of course, the annoying student in my class was all "it's Chh-ak-ras, not shak-ras." So I responded "Chh-ak-ras, shakras, energy centers, what-evah, who cares what we call them?" But the dude would not shut up, about how he knew more about the chakras than us because he's a yogi and blah blah blah. And it's CHh-ak-ra. Yeah mate, I thought, you've got a really looong way to go before you really understand what being a yogi is. A little bit of humility mixed in is definitely necessary. Anyhoo, how come the world and their uncle says shakras then?

Grrr. You can see how the irritability is not helping me right about now.

On the chair situation

Just an update: employer was very happy to arrange an ergonomic assessment for my secretary, which is set for July 22nd. She's actually looking forward to it now, go figure. And they said they would have no problem buying a new chair or whatever is necessary. Which fits in with my own experience - I got a new chair a couple of years ago when the other one was giving me lower back pain. So even though they'll generally say "no spending," if there's something that is causing an actual problem, they will replace it.

And yes, they would have to pay for the surgery, not the insurance company. We have "self-funded coverage" where my employer picks up the entire tab, using the insurance company for administration only. Apparently it's cheaper to do it that way than buy the full insurance. Again, go figure.

So, a combination of knowing what would be cheaper combined with a huge fear of workers' comp claims and there you go. I figured all along that it wasn't our employer dragging their feet but my secretary.

But thanks for the info on the surgery being easy for most people. I guess it's always the problem cases that stick in my mind...

The problem with acupuncture acceptance...

Two posts in one day, it's a miracle!

I share a secretary, and she's recently developed carpal tunnel syndrome, although she says it's been coming on for years. I said she should get her workstation looked at, because I'm convinced her chair is wrong, her keyboard set up is wrong and her monitor is at the wrong height. She's very petite, and the standard-sized stuff just doesn't fit her. She didn't want to bother anyone, and anyway, our employer has been cost-cutting, so she was sure there was nothing that could be done. She didn't want the surgery. I pointed out that acu is supposed to be very good for carpal tunnel. She didn't want to do acu because she was scared of the pain of needles, although by this point, she was unable to sleep because of the terrible pain in her wrists.

Finally she said she'd give acu a try. She's now been 3 times. The acu thinks it might take 8 sessions to really help. In the meantime, I kept nagging her to ask about having someone come in to do an ergonomic assessment for her desk, because why fix the problem once and then go on aggravating it. She kept hemming and hawing. She told the office manager that it wasn't such a big issue.

Then this weekend she spoke to a nurse at a nursing home where she was visiting, who spotted the wrist brace, and told her about her own carpal tunnel surgery, which was outpatient and such a relief and all that. Super easy! So now my secretary wants to quit acu because she has to pay for it, as it's not covered by insurance, and go and have the surgery instead as that will be covered by the insurance. Aargh! Is it just me that thinks it's ridiculous to put yourself through surgery when something natural and non-invasive is already helping and could help longer term? Just because you don't want to pay for it? And how much would she have to pay in co-pays for the surgery and the drugs she'd need to take? Is surgery really easier than acupuncture? And even if our employer is cost-cutting, surely it's cheaper for them to buy a new damn chair than pay for surgery?

After hearing this new plan of hers, I've stopped nagging her to ask for an ergonomic assessment, and just gone over her head and demanded one. It's already been agreed to, and is going to go ahead soon. Oy. I just hope that will help so she can avoid surgery, which I'm sure is not quick and super easy for everybody.

The problem with restricting certain foods...

...is that nobody takes any damn notice. Case in point, lunch today:

Sarah, to waiter: I'd like the tofu masaman curry please, with brown rice. That doesn't have peanuts in it does it? Because I can't eat peanuts, so if it comes with peanuts, I don't want them.

Waiter, to Sarah: Oh no, no peanuts; that curry is potato-based. There's no peanuts at all.


Of course, the meal arrives with a GIANT handful of peanuts dumped on top of it. Uh huh. Thankyouverymuch a-hole. So I spent the first part of lunch and much of the rest of the picking the darn things out, accidentally ate two halves and now I feel sick. I've been shoveling the Tums in, which is my usual remedy for accidental peanut-induced nausea, which works if I can do it quick enough. Otherwise I may have to go and stick my fingers down my throat. Bleh.

I mean, thank god I'm not actually allergic to the damn things, like anaphalactic shock allergic. Although I suppose then a) I wouldn't have set foot in a Thai restaurant, no matter how my coworkers wheedled and tried to get me to, and b) I'd have sent the meal back. Next time it happens, though, I will NOT be such a lame ass and I WILL send the meal back.

No doubt it had flour in it too, as the tofu seemed coated in something. So much for gluten free, as well.