Recovery

Oh, the past two weeks have been a whirlwind.

I'm sorta healed up from the Shingles From Hell.  Thank goodness I had a very small case and most of the rash was hidden in my hair.

This does not mean that it was pain free and without discomfort.

Oh no...it SUCKED.

The pain was followed by some righteous itching..and the desperate need to dig the hell out of my hair with a brush.

Which I did one night...then washed my hair and washed my hair and washed my hair again. 

My forehead and hairline still hurt every time the sun touches it...and the left side of my face has been weirdly numb off and on for the past few days.  Like novacaine numb.  Very weird.  Doc said that might happen with the nerve damage done by the shingles.  My favorite part is my left eyelid going numb.  Pretty sweet.

Not really.

No one else in the house caught the Chickenpox from me...so I count my blessings.

I went on four interviews during my recovery.  One was a joke, the second was ok, the third was really hopeful, and the fourth was a score!

The third though, has a great story.

I know I talk...a lot.  But I can control it, and will not jabber your ear completely off and give you my life story.

I'm just an extrovert.

It's who I am.

I interviewed for job #3 and a very well established large family practice.

I interviewed with the office manager, my counterpart Medical Assistant, and the Doctor that I would be working with.

It would have been an awesome job, and I won the interview.

But during the course of the conversation with the office manager when she called to offer the job, I discover that the Doctor found me annoying and felt I talked too much.  She said if I didn't work out with him, she'd find me another position in the office.

Uhm...excuse me?

I'm not just sure what the Doctor wanted me to do...do the interview in Sign Language? 

I answered his questions.  Sometimes with a sentence or two.

But no paragraphs.

I was very subdued and constrained during the interview. 

Believe me, I know how to act in public.

The Husband and I had tried to justify the job during the wait to find out if they were going to offer it to me.

It was 40 miles away, and the hours were all over the freaking place.

This was not going to work.

So with the Annoying Comment, I just said 'No Thank You' and moved on.

Damn...if I annoyed him in three minutes, I'm not sure working with him would be a bowl of cherries.  More like the pits.

Same day I turned down Annoyed Doc, I had another Doc call our office looking for an MA.

Guess who jumped on the opportunity and scored a great new office....

Me!

That's who!

Whoot!

Hardy Har Har

Best. Shit. Ever.

Right here folks...the Aveeno Anti Itch good for the Pox that ails ya.

I only stood in Walgreens for twenty minutes weighing my options and level of itch/infection/pain before I settled on this product...pretty much because it wasn't goopy runny calamine but had calamine in it.

There was no way in Hell I was going to ask the Pharmacist for help.  I am not mentioning the word Shingles in public, nor was I going to ask the same Kid that gave me this shit for help.

Yes, I totally blame him and the third Hepatitis B shot for this outbreak.

But back to the Glorious Aveeno.

Relief.

And you can put it in your hair.

I'm too old for this shit.  I really am.

Shingles sucks eggs.  I've moved past the Horrific Agonizing Pain and onto the Stupid Can't Scratch It Itch.

I'm not really sure what is worse.

At least the pain wasn't visible...only blinding and made me twitch and clutch my head on occasion.  I mean, it only looked like I was having an inward conversation with some sort of mind control razor wielding creature.

But alas, I have a job interview tomorrow...at 4pm.

Thank goodness it's with the walk in clinic that diagnosed me.  They said it's fine to come in...I just had to promise not to rub heads with anyone.

Hardy har har...

So guess what I managed to get...

I'm 37 years old.

I'm a healthy female.

Other than the herniated discs in my neck...and my fibromyalgia...with the occassional migraine...

I have bronchitis once in a while, and catch colds...

Have had Herpangina (the adult form of hand, foot and mouth disease)...O.M.G so very very painful.

Now I have the icing on the cake.

Shingles.

Uh huh...oh yes... shingles. 

I have fucking shingles.

What. The. Fuck.

Started Monday morning with the headache of all headaches.  Felt like a head injury headache.

Popped a few Motrin every few hours and dealt with it.

Tuesday...felt semi OK.  Still had a horribly sore spot on my head and was exhausted.  Called in sick to work.  Slept all afternoon.

WebMD'd the hell out of my symptoms.

Nothing.

Wednesday felt pretty ok.  Sore spot was miserable.  The throbbing in my jaws was awful.  Took myself to local walk in clinic.  Explained the head injury pain.  Explained my lack of nausea and light sensitivity. 

They sent me to the ER.  I hung out in the ER and was beginning to think I wasn't drunk or bloody enough to be there.  They pumped me up with Dacradon, Toradol and something else.  I felt pretty good.

Thursday...go to class.  Feeling OK.  Tired.  Pain on top of head and ice picks are jabbing away.

Friday...go to work.  Clinic calls to follow up.  I told them my pain was still a 7.  They wanted me back in to do a CT scan.  So my doc sends me on my way.

CT scan comes back normal.  New pain meds...

Nada...still wanting to cut the top of my head off.  Now the pain has spread to my jaw, forehead and my left eye brow is numb.

My parents show up because my mom can't stand not knowing if I am OK.

The Husband leaves for Drill on Saturday morning.  My left eye feels funny.  

Oh goodie...its almost swollen shut.

Awesome.

So my dad and I go to the clinic again...and then I practically break out right there in the room.

I have shingles.

Lovely lovely shingles.

Thankfully most are in my scalp/hair.  I have three bumps on my forehead.

I cried.

I have a big job interview on Tuesday.  I've had to notify my doctor (who was very sympathetic and understanding), my maid, my son's daycare teacher and my school.

I had a huge crying jag, very similar to the one I had when I was eight and had the chickenpox.

I've slept in a vicodin/prednisone/valtrex induced coma all day while my parents took care of Kiddo.

I wanted to explain to the pharmacist why I was picking up valtrex, but didn't feel like it.  If he thinks I have the Naughty Naughty Disease, oh well.

And if the Naughty Naughty Disease feels anything like this Down There...I am sorry.

This shit hurts...like bad. 

Lucky Girl

I have this crazy talent...

It's not crafty...heavens forbid I have to do a school project with Kiddo.  I may cry.  I hate glitter and glue. 

Especially glitter.

I'm an OK cook but nothing exciting.

I don't have a flair for fashion, or hair...

And I definitely absolutely positively CANNOT sing.  Kiddo fusses in the back seat because 'you are sounding wrong Mom!'

I find Four Leaf Clovers.

Everywhere.

Like a gazillion of them.

It's something to do with my OCD thing with patterns.  If something is out of the ordinary, it immediately catches my eye.

Sheetrock cracks...oil spots in the driveway...mortar cracks outside in the exposed brick (most of those are imaginary)...I have a severe problem with things that are out of order.

And Four Leaf Clovers clearly fall into that category.

This is a sample of the past week or so...

First Batch...

Two Days Later...



And the Big One...a Five Leaf Clover. 

I have found a Six Leaf Clover before...but I like the Fives too.

Hoping that eventually all this Good Luck rubs off.  I do have an interview on Monday with a local walk in clinic chain that we have here.  Maybe I'll put the Fiver in my pocket.



Big Time Bummed

Yeah...it's been a week of job searching and nothing has panned out.

I know I know...patience.  A week...big deal.

Most of the problem is that I am not certified and still in school.  My resume is automatically being tossed.

So I need to wait.

And it's killing me.

And I think I wrote this same post last fall.

But I'm really bummed.

And disappointed.

And angry.

Damn it.

The Husband says everything will be fine. 

I'm not so sure.

Of course I am a bit of a pessimist anyway.

I wrote out an email to the Housekeeper this morning ending her services at the end of May.  I can live without them even if I do get a job.  It's been nice, but I have to do some cutting somewhere.

The next to go is the Trash Pick up service.

I've cut the cable as far as I can, and the phones.   So the rest is just basics...Insurance, Utilities.  We will be fine with that budget.

I'm just annoyed...I had everything planned out.  Had a great place to work.  Had learned so much.  Now, just to get someone to notice me.

I'm a good employee.  I'm there on time.  I don't call in.  I don't start drama.  I listen and keep my mouth shut. 

Something will work out...it has to.  Otherwise this is all a huge fucking waste.

Curveball

You know those days, when you are happily cruising down the Highway of Life...slurping your Caffeine Free Diet Mtn Dew (sometimes I wonder why I don't just drink water because that is pretty much a useless concoction in a bottle)...when suddenly you hit a piece of metal in the road that all of the other cars have managed to bypass...blowing out two pretty much brand new and filled with Nitrogen (don't get me started) tires...and knicking the third one pretty badly....thus resulting in a Tow, the purchase of four brand new (non Nitrogen filled) tires and being three hours later to pick up Kiddo on the Day He Was Supposed to Pick Up Kiddo so I could go to a late appointment at my Wonderful Therapist, also resulting in me cancelling my appointment and dashing to get Kiddo...

I didn't do that...The Husband did.

And I digress...not really...he isn't home yet...I'm fuming.  Not because of the blown tires, but because he opted to add on an Alignment to the new said tires thus adding ANOTHER FREAKING HOUR to his delay.

But the Highway of Life has thrown us a curveball.

Due to Circumstances Beyond Her Control, The Doc is going to have to close her practice in June.  It boils down to two other OB/GYN's being assholes and denying coverage for her at the Hospital...thus eliminating her Privileges.

You can't be an OB/GYN and not deliver babies...or perform surgeries...etc.

So she has no other option than to close up her small practice.

This sucks eggs all the way around.

And I got to hear my Doc cry.

I was getting super comfortable there.  I've given injections...learned soooo much....and was really happy.

Therefore, I'm job hunting again.

Damnit.

Assholes.

I really needed that Therapy appointment today.

Announcements

Kiddo has a Big Mouth.

Like I have said before, I have NO idea where he got that trait.

*BLINKING INNOCENTLY HERE*

He also likes Toy Story.

So I will segway into our conversation in Target on Saturday night.

"Mom!  They have Toy Story toys!!"

"Kiddo, we are not getting a Toy Story toy...this is not shopping for a prize"

"Mom!  They have Woody!"

I'm going to interrupt here with my personal thoughts on a few things.  One...whoever in the hell named that characted Woody needs to go shopping with a three/four year old in a toy store.  Come on!  Woody...give me a break!  It's as bad as Percy being pronounced by a two year old.  Again, the Namer needs beaten.

Back to the story:

"No Kiddo"

And then he belts out....

"Mom!  I want the WIGGLY WOODY!  Not the HARD WOODY!  I want a WIGGLY WOODY!"

I couldn't fucking push the buggy fast enough.

And The Husband had to step into an aisle and laugh until he cried.