Wednesday, June 23, 2010


I'm writing this post without my constant companion of the last few months, my sub-Q pump providing anti-nausea meds.  Over the past several weeks, I had been weaning off the pump, hoping that the hyperemesis would have abated this late in the pregnancy.

My weaning went slower than the averages, driven by a few bouts of severe nausea from which I had to recover before dialing down the meds another level.  One of these bouts happened last week during a tour of our hospital's maternity ward, where I passed out and, eventually, vomited.  It sucked to pass out, but if you're gonna have to do that, where else but in the hospital?  We were able to do a "test drive."  :)  (The nurses checked out my blood pressure, which was fine, and the baby's heart rate, also fine.  After a consultation with my OB, we concluded that I hadn't eaten enough prior to the tour, and that the heat and humidity was getting to me.  I was discharged a couple hours after I checked in).

My insurance company had been working actively to get me off the pump since I reached 12 weeks, and had only dialed up the shrieking in the past few days.  Now, at least, getting me off the pump makes sense, since: a) my hyperemesis has abated, b) my nausea is, for the most part, under control, c) I'm no longer having issues with dehydration, since I'm able to eat and drink, and d) my weight has finally stabilized after a way too rapid weight loss in my first trimester (total weight loss of 45 pounds in 12 weeks; 35 of those happened in only 4 weeks).

So, I'm off the pump.  It's pretty cool, and I'm cautiously optimistic that I'll be able to stay off of it.  :)

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Thanks A**hats for Proving My Point

Way to go fat-hating anonymous commenters!  Many thanks for proving my point on my last post.

I welcome all constructive comments, from those that point out that my health might be improved by weight loss to those that disagree with my political stances.  When it comes to needlessly mean and unconstructive comments, however, I draw the line.  At the very least, if you're going to insult me, have the stugatz (i.e., the balls) enough to sign your name.  Don't just hide your m.u.d. (made-up drama) behind an "anonymous" shield.

From now on, this blog will not allow anonymous comments.  Want to comment?  Sign in with any account that Blogger allows (e.g., Blogger, Google ID, Open ID, Wordpress, etc.).

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

People Who Hate Me: The Fat Haters

Welcome back to another edition of People Who Hate Me, now with more hate.  Who's hating me this week?  The incompetent sonographer (we'll call her "Dum Dum") and her azhat supervisory doc at the testing site for my week 20 scan.  Why?  Because I'm fat, have bones and require the Zofran pump for my hyperemesis.

As you know, I'm receiving Zofran through a subcutaneous pump.  Here's how it works (in non-technical language):

1) Infusion site: This is a plastic disc about the size of a quarter that sticks to my belly.  The disc has a spiked, fixed tube on it that goes into my skin (hence: subcutaneous).

2) Tube: The disc is connected to a thin, 2 ft. long tube that attaches to a syringe of meds on the pump.

3) Pump: The pump is about the size of a remote control and you wear it in a purse-like bag with an arm strap.  You put a syringe of meds in the top of the pump and the pump's computer pushes on the syringe plunger, thus pushing the meds through the tube and into me, stopping me from doing my never-ending Exorcist imitation.

So, I can't stop the meds and remove the site for you, Dum Dum.  You are not worth continuous vomit.  You'll have to work around it.  This totally threw her.

Also throwing her was that I was fat.  Now, I am aware that extra padding does make it a little more difficult to do a sonogram; it does not, however, make a scan impossible.  In addition, I don't think it was my fat, I think it was Dum Dum's lack of knowledge of anatomy.  See, no matter how much you shove on my hip bone with the transducer, the bone will not move out of the way.  It's bone, that's how that works.

After Dum Dum finished the scan, we were sent back to speak with her azhat supervisory doctor.  He told us, "Your baby is really big.  It's something we're worried about and you should be too.  You're going to have to have a c-section because you're so big and because the baby is so big.  In fact, we've included a note on our report that the scan was technically difficult due to your fatness."

Fine, asshole, but is the baby okay?  Are all the parts in the right place?  Are all the parts there that are supposed to be there?  Oh, yes.  The baby is perfectly healthy.  F-ck you, you prick.

Thank goodness I was seeing my doctor that afternoon anyways.  She's awesome and was like, "don't listen to that asshole, he doesn't know what he's talking about.  You're measuring a few days ahead, the baby is a little larger than average (baby is 14 oz.) and you're not automatically going to do anything.  You're only at week 20.  The baby is fine.  Your weight looks great and your blood pressure is fine.  We can all calm down."  I love my doctor.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

19 Weeks and the Ongoing Saga That Is JD's Search for a Job

Nothing really going on here, so I haven't felt that much motivation to update.  My nurse insists that what I think is gas is actually the baby.  I think that at least half of what I think is gas is, in fact, actually gas.  Who knows?

I'm still on the Zofran pump, but I'm in the middle of weaning off of it.  I seem to be doing ok on the weaning, so hopefully that continues and I can get off the pump soon.

JD is still without employment or a plan.  Some history: JD told me (in response to questioning, at some point in the last year) that he was happiest and most fulfilled in terms of work when he was programming, as opposed to the more computer administration stuff that he's been doing for the last several years.  To me, that says that what JD should be doing is programming.  Find the work that makes you happy.

Now, in our area, in order to find a job as a programmer, you need to know and have experience in Java.  JD does not have this.  Why?  1) He says that Java is a stupid, inefficient language.  2) He doesn't want to go to school anymore, he doesn't want to be graded, he doesn't want to be "judged" (his words).

Here's my trying to answer as rationally as possible to his BS:
1) If all you speak is Latin and everyone else in the world speaks English, wouldn't it make sense to learn English so that you could communicate with others?  I told JD that it was as if his college degree was in being a Roman gladiator.  Well, there are no more jobs available for Roman gladiators, so you've gotta do something about that.

2) There are few jobs or even kinds of jobs available that don't require some type of continuing education or need to learn new skills or improve upon current skills in your life.  Really, I think that if you foreclose any job that would require new learning, you limit yourself to retail.  I don't think that JD would enjoy or even be successful at a job in retail, but assuming that's what he wants to do, fine.  Now, apply for jobs.

After meeting with his therapist yesterday, JD came up with another reason for not taking a class: "It's not that you need to know Java, it's that you need to have work experience with Java."

OK, well, you're not going to get any work experience with Java if you don't freakin' know it, so why don't we cross that bridge when we come to it?

He seemed yesterday as if he was on the precipice of agreeing to sign up for classes.  This morning, he said that he would be doing job searching today and when I asked about the classes, he said that he was still thinking about it.  When I asked what his therapist had said, JD told me that his therapist thinks he should "volunteer and network to figure out what he [JD] wants to do."  This is utter BS.  JD knows what he wants to do.  He wants to do nothing all day long.

As my Fairy Godmother once told me, "The problem with responding to JD in a rational manner is that he is not in his rational brain.  This is all emotional stuff for him."  But what do I do?  Rant and scream and cry?  That doesn't change his lazy, irresponsible ass either!

Any suggestions/comments you might have would be appreciated.