Frank Discussions Among Family

My first cousin and I are very close, having been raised much like sisters. She has been an amazing source of strength to me, as well as a terrific example as a mother. And that's probably why years ago (15 years?), I took her recommendation when it came to selecting a dentist. Hullo Dr. Hot Brothers!!! One is beefcake hot, the other more preppy hot. When I was younger I was into Dr. Preppy Dentist (Dr. Jay), and she preferred Dr. Beefcake (Dr. Bryan). Now that we are older, we like both equally. Okay, more like COVET both equally.

So I just HAD to torture my cousin with the knowledge that I would see Dr. Beefcake today for a dental appointment.

The texting literally went like this ('cause I saved 'em on my phone):

• Ms. J: " I will have a hot man in my mouth later today - Dr. Bryan!"
• Cousin: "Enjoy sloppy seconds. I had him on Saturday morning for an appointment."
• Ms. J: "You are just a fluffer for him. He will be ready for the real thing at 5 pm today."

Ya gotta love family!!!!!!!!!!

By the way . . . I think I primped more in the bathroom just prior to being seen by him that I do before important business meetings, LOL!

And another by the way (since my beloved cousin reads this occasionally) . . . my mouth is ACHY tonight! Oh, Dr. Bryan worked me over good! (Um, that's because I forgot to go last year and he did lots of magic today with his special TOOL, hee hee). That means there was lots of scraping, people!

I could seriously go for ice cream right now (haven't I earned it?!) I would actively whine to my husband, who would dutifully go buy some for me . . . but he is upstairs painting our bedroom, and I don't wanna take him off task (and yeah, I know it's just a clever excuse to watch the game without me bitching about how the hockey season is too phucking long!!!!!!!!!!)

Hospital Scatter Thoughts

I can't believe it's been this long since I blogged HER. Guess I have been too busy with the other blog?! Oh, I have been just a teency-weency busy with other shit, LOL.


Okay, since we spent 2 days at the hospital with Lil Pumpkin, a series of observations I have made, recorded here:

• Thank God for kick-ass cardiac ICU nurses, who stand up to 4th year residents and advocate (demand?!) that your toddler be given more pain medicine, rather than "wait 30 minutes and see how she is doing."
• Um, WHEN did the nurses get so YOUNG?! Dr. J noted that as Lil Pumpkin was sleeping, her saw her nighttime cardiac ICU nurse (hot Jackie) updating her facebook page, LMAO!
• Why is the word "twitter" so sexually charged?!
• After weeks/months of doing everything possible to make sure Lil Pumpkin didn't contract a surgery-delaying cold/virus prior to her scheduled surgery . . . my famed germ/ick/dirt-OCD sorta melted away in the hospital! I guess I just "let go and let God". Maybe. Probably more like I figured it was out of my hands at this point.
• Speaking of hands, GAWD, the constant hand-scrubbing and hand-santizing measures in place while our daughter was in hospital turned my hands RAW!!!!!!!!! How nurses keep their hands from chapping to the point of being bloody, I have NO friggin' idea!
• It's still VERY humbling to be at a Children's Hospital, and know that 95% of the other parents you see would WISH for your child's health problem . . . sure, it was major surgery, but it was "fixable," with her surgical outcome being that of normal life expectancy, no long-term restrictions on activities or diets, and no longterm medications. Amazing.
• I was so glad my Dr. Father-In-Law was there for LP's surgery - his watchful eye and reassurance kept all of us (including my own parents) more calm and in control.
• And finally . . . I think it's only fair that if your toddler pukes M&.M's on you, M.&M's that her father gave her less than 36 hours after having open heart surgery . . . well, I think it's only fair that MUMMY get to sleep in the reclining sleeper chair in her hospital room all night, while Daddy is forced to sleep in the upright chair. Cheers!

Packing Tips (bumping Cheesy Pilaf from the top spot)

I previously admitted my cooking faux pas that resulted in Cheesy Pilaf (ick). I should share that since then I have successfully cooked Ric.e-A-Ron.i and Scallo.ped Potato.es and both tasted delicious (though I did not cook them at the same time, LOL).

But something even ranked higher on the F'up Scale. And it belongs to Dr. J.

Two weekends ago we went on our annual outing to Ohio with my wild and wonderful second cousins. It was probably not as fun this time around, because it was the first time we made such a trip with Lil Pumpkin (traveling ANYWHERE with a toddler is stressful!), and it meant we couldn't stay up as late, had to get up earlier, and couldn't chance a hangover via excess drinking. Also, the cabins were SUPER-dry and thus myself and Lil Pumpkin were rather congested (and our humidifier went on strike the second night, grrr).

After we came back on Sunday, I went to shower later that evening. I was pleasantly surprised as I searched for my hairbrush that Dr. J had taken it upon himself to put away ALL of our toiletries! THANK YOU! Big help, and I appreciated it! Everything was magically put in it's place, and it was one less thing on my "to do" list, down to my Amb.ien sleeping pills on my nightstand (in a child-proof bottle and out of little arms reach, of course). I popped one sleeping pill and drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, I got up with the baby, got her a bottle, and passed her off to Dr. J as I got ready. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and took my vitamins. This included the Rx of 2 foli.c a.cid tablets I take because of a hereditary disorder I have. As I was sitting at my vanity doing my makeup I thought "WOW, am I ever tired today, must be the whirlwind weekend!" At one point I was so disoriented that I swore I was watching myself from outside my body as I tried to apply my eyeliner straight, LOL. Damn, I need caffiene!

I went about my day, tired, but surprisingly productive. Came home, went through our evening routine, got the baby to bed on time, and a few hours later laid down in our bed. And being the lifetime insomniac that I am, I reached for my trusty Ambi.en on the nightstand. Only this time I looked at the bottle . . . FOLI.C ACI.D?!?!? WHAT THE PHUCK?!?!? My fol.ic a.cid is on the nightstand? Then what is in the bathroom medicine cabinet that I took 2 tablets of this morning?! I raced to the bathroom, and YEP, the Amb.ien was sitting where my f.olic ac.id normally rests. OH MY PHUCKIN GAWD!!! So, this means that last night I took one foli.c a.cid tablet and fell asleep, and this morning I gulped down TWO A.mbien (you should ONLY take one) and somehow managed to not kill myself operating heavy machinery like my car?!

So THAT would explain my morning fog as I tried to apply my makeup! And it would explain why I felt like I was in a coma at work.

I screamed for Dr. J, and explained what I had just figured out! I think he felt bad, and confused himself, as he knows the Amb.ien usually knocks me out.

So here is my lesson learned/packing tip: unpack your own MEDS!!

Cheesy Pilaf, anyone?!

Cysta-Bitch

So last Friday I was all hoo-ray about the sweet deal I got on those cysts being removed. I am STILL happy about the price, but let's recap the past week's developments on the issue . . .

Using the cream prescribed by the Physican Assistant (which, again, Praise Gawd, came with thee cheapest co-pay possible), my face has been peeling like I forgot to apply sunscreen while away on a tropical island somewhere. Okay, it's not THAT bad (am I dramatic? NEVER!!!) But the first week or so using the cream had me flaking and peeling. I was warned this would happen, but still it was annoying.

But after the scabbing from the cyst removal was finished I noticed that ONE of the cysts was still there, argh!!! Bitch, bitch, bitch! So I called the doctor's office and then said to come back in this morning for another go-see.

Luckily (for them and me and Dr. J, who had to listen to me whine) most of the peeling is now concluded. But they still needed to ZAP some of that one lingering-not-quite-yet-gone-bitch-cyst.

ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP.

That was 9 times - did you count as you read along?! Yes, NINE ZAPS of the electric needle. Just under my eye.

I deserve . . . I dunno, SOMETHING for being so tough. For not crying. For not hitting or kicking anybody.

Maybe a cupcake. Or ice cream. Or a massage. Or all three.

Bitch, be gone!

I Should Play the Lottery

I just returned from having a medical/cosmetic procedure done on my face that I was extremely nervous about. Basically, it was to have a couple of teeny cysts removed that, while benign, have been bugging me and making me inscure about my non-makeup face. Part of my reluctance to have this taken care of was due to it being benign, which means "not covered by insurance."

The dermatologist told me it would probably run anywhere from $350 - $500 for the removal, and referred me to a cosmetic dermatologist.

I won't lie . . . it was, um, painful. Repeatedly. But the pain was lessened by the cost: $25. Yes, just $25. Three different office staff (including the one doing the removal) said "$25." I paid cash, have a receipt that says paid in full, and went on my still-hurting-but-otherwise-merry-way. They also gave me an Rx to help even out my complexion which I was CERTAIN would not be covered by insurance, but I figured, what the heck, I should just get it filled.

The pharmacy called me 10 minutes ago with the cost . . . COVERED BY MY INSURANCE (due to the diagnosis code the Physican's Asst put on the Rx), and thus IT'S ONLY A $10 CO-PAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am so friggin' happy!!!

And my face is reasonably presentable, too! (I had envisioned a week of Nico.le R.itchie behavior, wearing giant sunglasses to avoid being viewed as hideous by the public, LOL).

Off to get my hair cut now - yes, a full day of beauty (if you count yesterday's manicure, too).

Now Somebody Else is Trying to Kill Me

As if my own attempts to physically injure myself weren't enough, apparently the County Health Department is also trying to "off me."

In preparation for our trip to China, we decided to get the recommended (though not required) Tetnu.s booster, and He.p A and H.ep B shots. The A & B shots are three-parters . . . you get parts one and two prior to your trip (must be a month apart), and the third part after your return.

Please note, that EACH time we get the H.ep A & B shots it costs us $188. That pisses me off to no end. I will wind up spending $564 in preventative vaccines. Insurance cuts you NO break, and these can not be administered by your regular PCP, because they are considered infectious diseases and thus can only be handled by the County Health Department. So add into this the cost of parking, and traveling a good 25 miles each way to the friggin' County Health Department, each time. Grrrrr. It further pisses me off that insurance cuts us NO BREAKS on these costs . . . but IF we come down with H.ep? Oh sure, THEN it will pay half a million bucks in hospitalization costs!

If you have not previously read my rant on the County Health Department, and all of it's nastiness, now is an appropriate time to do so. In mid-June we went for our second round of the shots.

With time growing short and our schedules likewise crazy in the closing days before we blast off to China, imagine my horror when last Friday I received a call from the County Health Department telling me that our second set of shots "Was No Good." Well, at least that's what it sounded like "Ana" was saying, because SHE DID NOT SPEAK PASSABLE ENGLISH!!! Now listen, before I get unfairly labeled a racist or any bullshit like that, please know that my pediatrician, my favorite dentist, and my current PCP, RE, and OB/GYN are ALL foreign-born, with English as their second language. Great, no problem. I love accents (hell, I married one), and admire greatly people who are bi-lingual. But when you are being called with such critical information as "gee, the vaccine isn't valid!" I don't think it's too much to EXPECT that the messenger speak passable English!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Seriously, a call center overseas has better English speakers.

I was told some bullshit that the 'fridge which stored our second round of vaccines "had a temperature failure," and thus we need to repeat it. But that they're would be "no charge" for doing so. WERE THEY PHUCKING KIDDING ME?! Hullo?!?!? I asked "And who will be paying for my parking, my gas costs, and our time off of work? And will the clinic be open for extended hours to accomodate us?"

Any guesses on the answer to THOSE questions?! Of course, all "No's". I guess "Ana" knew I wasn't a Happy Camper, because she said she would have a supervisor call be back. Damn right, "Ana"!!!

So "Sharon" called me back about 10 minutes later, and gives me the same B.S. about a 'fridge failing, and thus we didn't have the proper immunity. WTF?! I asked, WHY, if we got the second round of shots on June 17th, I was being informed of a "temperature failure"on July 11th? Oh, um, because the County Health Dept. consulted with the CDC, and the CDC recommended they call people and have the vaccine repeated. Again, I ask, "why am I being told this NOW? We leave for China in 2 weeks -- what if we had already left?!" Well "Sharon" then said "Well you need to have 28 days in between Parts One and Two, so you couldnt' have come in before next Monday anyway." Which prompted me to ask incredulously, "YOU SAID IT'S NOT VALID - SO WHY WOULD I NEED TO WAIT UNTIL MONDAY ANYWAY?!" Then Sharon said "Well, we're not sure how much of it was good."

WHAT PHUCKING CLOWNS ARE WORKING ON MY PHUCKING TAX DOLLARS?!?!

I gave "Sharon" an earful as to HOW they need somebody with a better command of the English language to make these calls than Ana, and how I had lived in California, so I am not some anti-immgrant b*tch who is complaining, but when it comes to important medical stuff like this it DOES make a difference -- cause for a few scary moments while on the phone with "Ana" I thought she was telling me that I had somehow contracted He.p A and/or B!!! Sharon surprisingly agreed with me when it came to Ana.

I think me throwing around "My husband is a doctor" also got her attention, because suddenly she was willing to stay as late as 10 p.m. to accomodate his schedule. In retrospect, and after speaking with a colleague about this, I think "Sharon the Supervisor" is more worried that between myself and My Doctor Husband we will raise a public stink about this, and the County Health Dept (and its employees) will be in even Deeper Shit.

What's kinda comical is that I am connected enough politically (thanks to my job) to the County elected officials who sit on the committees that fund the County Health Department, as well as have oversight on it. I could cause some serious-ass trouble if I wanted to. Plus, what low-levcel reporter isn't looking for a possible investigative story to help them get a leg up in the newsroom?!

But honestly, I am too rushed right now with other stuff, too preoccupied with trying to sew up things before we leave, too tired from lack of sleep, too frazzled with worries and fears, too agitated by little stuff . . . to go through all of that.

So instead, we took "Sharon" up on her offer to meet us after hours and get our second round of shots. And we even got a free parking spot closeby. Even funnier, since she knew we needed these shots in conjunction with our adoption, she gave us a free bib and onesie with the emblem of the County Health Department on it as a baby gift. She was VERY pleasant in person.

Don't ya just LOVE that?! LMAO (cause otherwise I will cry).

Just praying I can get through these remaining days without any more mishaps (self-inlflicted or otherwise). But I am waiting for some ninja to jump out at me, I swear. Next?!

More Self-Inflicted Punishment

Sheesh, when it rains it pours. And clearly, this has been MY WEEK to injure or otherwise cause harm to myself.

Last night, I decided to remove the cutesy pink toenail polish that has been on my tootsies since early-May, when I treated myself to a pedicure prior to a business trip. For some reason, polish stays on my toes pretty well (maybe because I don't walk around barefoot, I don't know). So I grab the non-acetone polish remover (you must use non-acetone lest you cause serious damage to the silk wraps that are on your manicured nails -- I know, it's complicated being a girly girl, and I have had a lot of catching up to do in the last decade). It took some SERIOUS rubbing to get this shit off. My hands were actually cramping from the effort (and I do a lot of texting, so my hands are in shape, LOL).

Once it was done I made sure to scrub my hands with hot soap and water. That's when I did something stoopid. I decided this would be a marvelous time to take out my contacts. As I brought my hands to my left eye, I could still smell the vapors on my scrubbed-clean hands. I plunged ahead anyway. The vapors from my hands had my eye buring like friggin' hell! But what was I gonna do?! One was now out, and my vision is too poor to walk around with just one in so I endured the burning and yanked out the other one. Fearing that somehow a trace amount of chemicals were now on my contacts, I pitched this 2-day-old pair straight into the garbage. PHUCK -- I hate wasting money like that!

I flushed my eyes with a ton of cold water, which seemed to soothe my peepers. But this morning I was in for a lovely surprise . . . my eyelids had some peeling skin on them, and were super-puffy! They haven't been this bad since we lived in the Silicon Valley/Bay Area (which I then atributed to pollution and allergies). When we lived out there I used to fix this the ol' Miss A.merica way -- which means whipping out a tube of hemor.roid cream and applying some on my eyelids. Go ahead, laugh your asses off - pageant queens swear by it and guess what, IT WORKS! Whatever is in that cream to shrink a hemorroid, and in a non-inflammatory manner (cause really, if you need it for THAT that last thing you need is more burning), ALSO works the same way on your eyelids! It works miracles.

But alas, I had none in the medicine closet, so I skipped my eye makeup and went about my day. And my day was going fine. I was hustling to get done at work early because I had bumped up my bi-weekly manicure to earlier in the day so I could ultimately go to the airport that evening to welcome home some friends who had just returned from China with their new daughter.

I prepared my spaghetti lunch for the microwave, and was walking through the hallway at work when I looked at my one hand thought "Aw shit, my fingernail broke. Dammit!" Eh, no wonder with all of the typing, texting, and crap I have been doing around the house, I reasoned.

But then came the 4th time in a few days in which I inadvertantly caused bodily harm to myself. I was enjoying my spaghetti at my desk, multi-tasking as usual, when suddenly I felt something crunchy in my mouth. Wanna guess when that fingernail broke and wear it landed?

Disgusting. I am a mess, I swear. I should have "crime scene" tape wrapped around me. I am a CSI delight of an episode. Grrrrrr.

Bloody Nose & Busted Lip

Yeppers, I managed to have both of these in 2 days time.

First up, the bloody nose. What's amazing about this is that, well . . . I gave myself the bloody nose. I wish I had some cool story to accompany it, but I don't. Nope, it's just another in a series of utterly ungraceful moves on my part. I was laying bed early Tuesday morning, after unsuccessfully being able to sleep (it was going on 2 hours at this point). I had JUST started to nod off, when my body had one of those sudden spasms that you sometimes get when falling asleep -- ya know, when your whole body jerks suddenly?!

Well, I had been laying on my right side, with my fist sorta loosely curled up near my face, with my right thumb extended. Somehow, somehow, when my body convulsed my right thumb inserted itself up into my right nostril, creating a gash in the process. My nose felt moist all of a sudden, so I reached for my ever present stash of tissues, and wiped my nose. Then I turned on the light. THERE WAS BLOOD ALL OVER THE TISSUE. Huh? WTF?!

I am not exaggerating when I report that it took 7 double-ply tissues before the bleeding subsided. This included me applying pressure, rolling up tissue & shoving inside the nostril like a boxer who had been punched, yadda, yadda. Each tissue was thoroughly soaked. Gross, but true. Eh, it's me, par for the course!

Then we roll to today. I am eating lunch when I suddenly bite down on the inside of my lip. HARD. This happens, right?! I wince, but resume eating. In the next 3 minutes, I manage to repeat this motion FIVE GAWDDAMN TIMES! It was like friggin' Gr.oundhog Day -- over and over I kept biting down in the exact same spot. Yowza!

I was so mad at myself. My lip was growing puffier and puffier by the minute. I have blood on the inside of my lip (under the surface) now. It's like I had dental work done, and I still have the swelling effects. Grrrr. Who knew my chompers were so powerful?!

Clearly, I am a hazard to myself.

Best Week Ever

Congrats to Dr. J, since last week was your "Best Week Ever"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Of course, this was quite predictable, as you know . . . since THIS one is a holiday weekend. And then in three weeks we are taking off for another freakin' continent. OF COURSE THEN EVERYBODY WILL WANT A PIECE OF YOU!

Very proud of you, Sweetie ;o)

PHUCK, that hurt! (a.k.a. Our Visit to the County Health Department)

Dr. J and I elected to get several shots (on the advice of our G.P.) in advance of our pending summer trip to China. After checking around we learned that one of the shots is ONLY offered by our County Health Department, and they had evening hours one night a week that would accomodate Dr. J's schedule. So off we went, checkbook in hand (check or cash only, please!)

We decided to get the tetanus booster, Hep A, and Hep B vaccines.

This is the sign that greeted us as we walked into the building . . .


Then we saw THIS sign as we waited for the elevator that would take us to the 3rd floor. Immediately, I said to Dr. J, "be careful what you touch while here. And don't touch me at all."

Oh, here's ANOTHER fun sign that had my germ-phobia starting to kick into panic mode . . .

Lemme say, I am NO wimp, okay?! I can, have, and do deal with physical pain just fine, thank you very much.

However, when that nurse put the Hep A & B combo shot into my arm, it hurt! I swear that thing was given intramuscular or something?! And the moment she pulled the needle out I actually winced! YOWZA! Hey, I got allergy shots for years, so I am NOT afraid of needles. And kee-rist after LAST summer's medical follies where my va-jay-jay went through the friggin' wringer I know I am tough enough. But DAMMIT THIS HURT!

We waited the obligatory 5 minutes post-vaccines, and promised to return in one month's time to get the second phase of the Hep shots. And that's when perhaps the "best moment" presented itself out of this whole germy experience. We exited the elevator back on the 1st floor, and I spotted this sign . . .

Immediately, I start cracking up, while making all sorts of highly inappropriate remarks to Dr. J, who is somewhere between wanting to vomit and laugh hysterically. It's at this point that a janitor happens to overhear us, (cue the voice of Nicolas Cage from the movie "Peggy Sue Got Married,"), nods in our direction at the sign and says "THAT'S THE REAL WORLD RIGHT THERE."

LMAO!!!!!!!!! Hullo, are we high right now? Or just dreaming? It was insane. And awesomely bad. Perfect.


A final gross-out photo . . . this, along with other photo examples of highly contagious diseases, were prominently displayed on the walls of the waiting room where we sat for 30 minutes waiting our turn to be jabbed. I made sure to send a copy of it to Jay (Lori's fiance), who promptly replied, "They paid me $100 to pose for that. And $500 for the herpes one -- have you seen it yet?" LMAO!!!!!!!!!!!

Surviving the Holidays -- Part Two (Sunday)

Last night I got thee best night's sleep that I have in a loooonnng time. I slept so soundly, like a rock. So much that I am actually looking forward to sleeping in this hotel room for 3 more nights.

Just before lunchtime we then boarded the Long Island Railroad for the trip in to NYC. A fairly uneventful trip until near the end. The train was crowded, and there was a group of family members standing up just behind us. About 30 minutes later I heard the 20-something daughter remark to her Dad, "are you okay? You don't look good." I hafta say, at that moment I just knew how this was gonna turn out. Really. Fast forward to the 50-something Dad passing out. Dr. J springs into action, moving people out of their seats and laying the guy down, trying to get him to come around. He does, but then passes out again. The daughter starts freaking out. The car conductor was notified to have police or EMS ready to meet us at the platform (we were coming up on the last stop, Penn Station). As the guy came to he began throwing up. Dr. J later tells me he is worried because the dude's pulse is pretty weak, though his respiration was okay. Dr. J and the guy's brother get him off the train (the rest of the passengers were amazingly good and helpful and well-behaved), and onto the platform. The cool air brings the guy around a bit. But he is very confused and a bit combative doesn't want to sit down. Then he starts to get woozy again. Dr. J gets him to sit just as he passes out a third time. There are now 4 of New York's Finest standing there, and the guy's daughter (a nurse) is LOUDLY freaking out. The guy has no known medical problems, is not taking any medication, not diabetic, had eaten within past few hours, was in excellent shape, etc. For those who are counting, the dude passed out a total of 4 times! And when he finally came around the final time and started to become more lucid he was STUNNED to learn he has been passing out repeatedly. By this time a wheelchair is produced and the police will escort him to the ambulance for transport to hospital. The wife and brother are profusely thanking My Man for being there. and stepping in. I, of course, am incredibly proud, and remembering that his student loan payment is due on January 2nd, hee hee!

Dr. J would tell me later that he was most worried that the man was having a stroke, because he was sweating so profusely and he wasn't fully passing out, and "it just didn't look normal." But the best line came as we were walking away and he said to me, "This is the FOURTH TIME in four months someone has passed out in my presence -- WHAT THE PHUCK?!?!"

We then went to Lombardi's for lunch. Then strolled around Chinatown, where I got nervous thinking about how I sometimes feel woefully unprepared to travel to a foreign country where everything is unfamiliar to pick up our daughter someday. Like many now-adults who grew up in very chaotic divorced-parent-shuffle households, I am the typical chameleon who is used to having to quickly adapt in order to survive instability. However, that doesn't mean it doesn't freak us out, as it does me. I like predictability, security, stability, and the familiar. I get nervous when things are not executed as planned, and new stuff can sometimes freak me out. Spontaneity and surprises can induce a near panic attack in me. Really. Add on top of this the fact that sometimes, no how much I read, no matter whom I talk to, no matter how many lectures I attend, I worry that I may not be able to do a good enough job raising a little girl who doesn't fit in, racially, with the community around her. Love is not always enough.

Dr. J saw me starting to "ice skate" and pulled me into a Starbucks to re-group. Sigh. He is such an emotional saint. He never gets exasperated with my anxieties, or tears. Thank God. And he knew that it wasn't just the adoption that had me freaking out a bit, it was also "the reason why we couldn't be home for Christmas this year."

We then decided to dip our way back into Chinatown, and I did okay this time. And then we were able to hop back on the subway and head down to 42 Street. And then the second adventure of the day happened . . . I looked down at my hiking boot and realized that the rubber sole of it was cracked and ripping away from my shoe! Water (it was raining most of the day) had gotten half of my sock wet by this point, too. So we then had to hustle down to 34th Street to a Payless so I could buy SOMETHING to put on my feet, lol. Cue the purchase of a cheap, ugly pair of black athletic shoes, LOL!!!

We walked around a bit longer, and then headed to Penn Station to catch the train back to our hotel. And then Fate stepped in. Now, there are something like 8 million people in NYC, right?! And it's the holidays, not to mention the last full shopping day before Christmas, right?! But there we were, looking at the boards to see which track we needed to go to when I said to Dr. J, "ohmigawd, look over there!" And there they were -- the family of the man he helped out on the train earlier in the day! WHAT ARE THE FREAKIN' CHANCES OF THAT HAPPENING???!!! Dr. J went over, they started thanking him profusely again, and reported that he had been admitted to the hospital overnight, but was doing okay, and they were heading home. Dr. J was glad that the hospital had taken this precaution, and it was a nice feeling of closure to see the family again under less stressful circumstances.

Only in New York, kids, only in New York!

The Health Benefits of Gettin' Busy

Now's here's an article that men everywhere will be excitedly waving in front of their wives faces . . . turns out that sex has significant health benefits!

From my perspective, I will agree to having seen the positive effects of s-e-x in the following ways (which are noted in the article):

• Weight Loss & Weight Control -- there have been evenings in which I have been too busy to squeeze in my regular workout at the gym, and have mentally said to myself, "well, this will burn some calories at least" or "hey, it's to make up for that cookie I stress-ate earlier today."
  
• Stress Relief -- absolutely! Some times life is so freakin' stressful that a good tumble in the hay can definitely take the edge off of things, releasing those post-exercise endorphins, and resulting in a nice "ahhhhh" feeling
• Immune Booster -- I specifically recall one time in college, freshman year, when Dr. J was running a fever of about 103, but I needed to get my groove on. I managed to convince him the best way to recover was to "sweat it out." Did it work? Well for ME it did!
• Increased Self-Esteem & Intimacy -- through both my experience and the assortment of confessions I have heard over the years (I swear, some people tell me Thee Strangest Shit), the more people have sex, the more they want it. Ladies, your man is more concerned about just getting it regularly than what your ass looks like . . . and if you give it to a man regularly, they see you as attractive even if you gain 5 pounds, have on an old nightshirt, or forgot to shave your legs. Men almost universally want two things in a relationship: regular sex and respect. That's not a lot to ask.
• Sleep Enhancement -- yep, it's true. I always sleep more soundly after a good romp. Unless of course I am still keyed up and wanting Round 2, or 3.
• A Better, Younger Looking You -- I think that people who get it on regularly just have that glow about them -- that little intangible thing you can't quite put your finger on, yet somehow they sparkle. Case in Point: LORI (I doubt she's embarrassed by my stating this -- after the uber-hot stuff Jay wrote & shared about his Christmas Wish for this year, I sure as heck wouldn't be -- YOWZA!!!)
• Mood Lifter -- see my note above on Stress Relief
• Longevity -- this harkens back to when we were younger, and used to hear those pleas from junior high school boys that "a guy could DIE from not getting IT!" Wow, maybe they weren't being melodramatic after all?!
• Decreased Risk of Breast Cancer -- perhaps from all the loving attention a woman's breast receive during s-e-x, this staves off that nasty cancer?!
• Reproductive Health Benefits -- LMAO . . . wait a minute . . . STILL laughing hysterically!!! If only I could add up the money that has been spent over the years on b/c pills, condoms, and now thermometers, OV kits, pee sticks, co-pays, RE tests, and OB/Gyn procedures?! Lemme LMAO some more!

So, all in all, I pronounce this article to be useful and well-versed . . . though perhaps a companion piece on the benefits of red wine would have been nice (especially since, in addition to being good for you, red wine helps you dance your woman into the sack easier).

Mostly, I hope this article brings you, the reader, the ammo you need to get laid tonight. Cheers!

THE FIRST TIME

Today was a big day for my man. Drumroll please . . . he got his very first REIMBURSEMENT CHECK from an insurance company, for services he has rendered! [Yes, it DOES take that long for doctors to get paid, so everyone close your jaws].

To understand this, folks, know when you get an "EOB" (Explanation of Benefits) in the mail, telling you what the doctor billed your insurance for, how much your responsibility was, and how much the insurance company PAID your doctor? Yep, THAT'S what Blue Cross slid into his business bank account today.

WOO-FRICKIN'-HOO, Boys and Girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And, it was not some piddly $12 or any shit like that. It was GOOOOOOD.

Of course, this gets rolled right back into the business -- hey, Dr. J has a loan to pay off, rent to keep paying, and equipment to keep leasing. (But in my Fantasyland Daydreams I am spending the money on myself, hee hee -- hey, a Trophy Wife's gotta dream, right?!)

But it's a significant moment, nonetheless. And I am very proud.

Two good things in one week (see immediate prior post), and only days apart, is this possible?! I feel nervous just speaking about it in anything above the most hushed of whispers!

Adrian, we're crackin' open that bottle of Decoy TONIGHT, sistah!!!!

Less Second-Guessing, More Rainbows

I am lucky to have some very good friends who are in all different sorts of life stages, and each of them, in some unique way, has significantly contributed to keeping me sane, especially during the past several years "Fertility Field Trip" (Lori gets credit for that tag, lol).

Not one of them has found herself walking (okay, creeping) down the same path as mine, even among the parents in my posse. Which is probably why there are several blogs I regularly visit on the internet to glimpse, if you will, at the possible forks in the road I could take if I wanted to.

I say could take, because Dr. J and I made a choice, way back before we even started trying to expand our twosome, to not pursue assisted fertility techniques, should it come to it. And despite all of the medical and genetic work-up, and the incredibly crushing heartbreak we have had, we have stuck to this decision. My close friends have been amazingly supportive of this, which I have to say, has been a pleasant surprise! I know plenty of adoptive parents who get shit from their friends and/or families about why they aren't doing this, that, or the other. For our families, I'd say about 90% have been supportive our of our choice.

But as much as this helps, I wish I had a close friend who has walked this loooonnnng road we find ourselves going down (the "Path to Ping-Ping") and could both advise and commiserate with me. "Just adopt!", people will say, as if it's the simpliest thing in the world. Adoption is NOT the easy choice. It's the hard one. It's the long one. And I gotta tell ya, sometimes it's tempting, such as on those days when I am in tears over "the Paperchase" to say "Phuck it, let's go to the R.E. and get this over with." Cause I know it would work. WE know it already. (By the way, thank you Posse, for keeping my eyes on the prize -- esp. Lori, for that one time in particular when I could barely squeak out the words and tell you what was wrong!!!)

Which brings me back to the blogs I read. One woman in particular, Jamie, has been so honest and good about chronicling her every step in her quest to get pregnant. And yet she has had nothing but bad luck and even no luck for 3+ years. And now she is questioning whether she has spent her money wisely, and is wondering if she shouldn't have just pursued adoption from the start, instead of driving herself crazy with all of the doctors appointments, drugs, and procedures.

And while my heart aches for Jamie and her husband, I'd be lying if I didn't find myself, and the choice we have made, being affirmed by her lack of success. I know that if or when Jamie decides she has had enough and instead pursues an international adoption, she will face years of frustration and challenges, though of a different kind. But she will get a rainbow at the end of so many rainy days.

Just like we will.

And it's moments like that, which I try to grasp and hold onto tightly, reminding myself that THIS is a perfect example (even at someone's else expense) of why we chose what we chose. And why we keep running towards The Goal.

TGIF and TGICIS

Today was my first day back to work since our CA-vacay.

Ugh. Rough. Nothing like starting off the morning with a 7:45 a.m. doctor appointment to jolt you from Left Coast to East Coast time, eh?! But I needed to see the doctor so I am not really bitching. Actually, the whole reason was pretty phucking funny, but it's way too personal to post here, even for me.

I had monitored my work e-mails while I was away, so nothing too earth-shattering there to greet me. My boss was out the entire day, which I didn't know ahead of time, but hey it was nice to have fewer interruptions. I had told everyone I would actually be MIA until next Monday, which is a good strategy I think -- it lets me sneak back into the office and catch up without the million phone calls.

Dr. J & I had a double-date this evening with Eddie & Diane. They were treating us to dinner and a Pirate Game, which included fireworks. Hey, we're in!

I got home from work about 20 minutes earlier than Dr. J, and grabbed the day's mail.

And there it was.

The letter we have been sweating and fretting over for so long. A piece of paper we have put lots of time, money, blood (literally), sweat, and tears (mine) into receiving -- or maybe "achieving" is a more accurate description.

A single sheet of paper.

The irony later hit me that earlier this year I saw two lines and began to cry hard with big tears of joy.

This time, I saw two boxes checked and I cried. And it surprised me that I cried just as hard, and with just as much joy.

We received our Form I-171H, which means our I-600A was finally approved by CIS!!!

It's hard to explain to people just what that means.

But to us, it means the world is not flat after all. And our ship is going to sail, instead of remaining docked.

It means tonight, there is hope.

Ping-Ping

Okay, I hope I am not recounting too much of what some of you already may know, but if I am bear with me (it's hard to keep track of who knows what sometimes -- some folks are more interested in the tiny details than others, ya know).

Let us scroll back our collective calendars to July 26th, while I was in Ft. Lauderdale. As you may recall, we were scrambling to get our I-600A form ("Foreign Orphans Petition" filed with Homeland Security, because effective July 30th, the fee would rise from $540 to something like $685. BUT in order to do so we needed the completed Home Study from Catholic Chairites and our caseworker MaryLou (the lady with the breathy, high-pitrched voice, remember?!) Mary Lou had said it would only take her 3 weeks to complete, and it was going on week 5 (note: even 5 weeks is amazingly fast -- most places take 3 months to complete this report!) But we finally get it, and while I am in Florida Dr. J submits the I-600A and the notarized Home Study (you will learn the power of a notary as this SAGA phucking continues!)

We also had to send Homeland Security a check for $140 ($70 each) for "Biometrics" -- which is the fingerprinting they do on us now, and again before we leave for China, years from now.

On August 1st we receive a letter, DATED July 30th, from Homeland Security to get our asses down to their Pittsburgh office THAT WEEK for fingerprinting -- WOO HOO! That was SUPER-FAST!!! (MaryLou was amazed). Now, the letter tells us if we don't make it down there THAT week (which gives us until Saturday, August 4th), we can only them come down on WEDNESDAYS in the weeks after for fingerprinting. (Please note, my Wednesdays for the several weeks following were already scheduled up REALLY tight, which meant we were even more motivated to get down there THAT WEEK).

So the following day, Thursday, August 2nd we decided Dr. J will pick me up at my office at 11 a.m. and we'll go downtown, get fingerprinted, grab a quick hot dog at Franktuary, and then he'll drop me back at work. Only I wake up Thursday morning not feeling so hot. I puke about 4 times before I leave for work. But dammit, I am determined to go in to the office and get this "biometrics" thing over with.

I get to work, puke a good dozen more times. Everyone at office is whispering I am pregnant -- FOR THE LAST GAWDAMN TIME I AM NOT PREGNANT! I want to burst into tears every time someone makes that joke! (I know THEY don't know my history, but I will NEVER make that joke to someone EVER again!)

Dr. J picks me up. I am so sick. We get to the parking lot. Of course we have to drive up 10 twisty ramps to the 10th floor to find a mid-day parking spot. I am seriously ill at this point. I finally admit there is no way I am gonna make it out of this car, let alone walk 3 blocks and be fingerprinted. And now my lower abs-area HURTS! He calls our GP, and both think it's appendicitis or an ovarian cyst (I know it's not, but am too ill to speak). Next thing I know I am being examined on a gurney at Mercy Hospital, and being given intravenous shots of nausea medication (5 in all, and 2 shots for pain). They make me drink mass quanitities of this gawdawful contrasting dye to prep me for a CT Scan. I make it into the tube for the scan, but the moment I am out, BLEH -- up comes the contrasting dye (made it into a can, thank gawd). Everything on my body hurts and I am sick as a phucking dawg. I was at the hospital for 6 hours and SURPRISE, NOTHING WRONG WITH ME, except for some 24 hour vomitting virus. I go home, sleep for 12 hours (That is probably the most shocking thing of all). Went back to work the next day, feeling 70% better, but with nada appetite.

Finally, on Saturday, still a bit icky, we go down and get fingerprinted. No line, easy deal. Thanks goodness.

Soooo, on August 7th Dr. J and I had to Mercy Hospital again to our G.P.'s office (we usually go to an office of his much closer ot our home) to have him fill out yet another series of medical paperwork on us. Although we already had him give us physicals to satisfy Catholic Charities, we need another series of paperwork to certify us "healthy" for the Chinese government. Oi Vey. Only, Holt advises us to sit there with the physician, and make sure he doesn't put down that Dr. J takes allergy medicine (don't ask, apparently it doesn't make the Chinese happy -- they see it as "Respiratory Problems"), yadda, yadda.

Part of having the physicals done AGAIN by our G.P. at Mercy involved us having to have a "travelling notary" show up at Dr. Patel's office and certify Dr. Patel's signature as being indeed his. Really. Again, required by Chinese Gov't. It took Dr. J alot of effort and phone calls to find a notary who would travel, and on short notice. But he found one who would come out, for a $50 charge (not unreasonable, in notary world -- but we had been having everything notarized via "State Senator Hottie's" office, who was doing it for free as a "constituent service"). But hey, what could we do, right?!

So much for keeping the adoption on the "down-low" at work . . .

Well, the Travelling Notary showed up on time, and they showed him into the exam room where the three of us were (we were all dressed -- it was just paperwork, actually) . . . and the notary was a rather active member of my organization. Really. A former past-president of our Board of Directors, even. Sheesh. Unbelievable. Phuck.

It's not that the adoption is some shameful dark secret, but I wanted to keep it under wraps at work, lest I encounter the following:

1. A bunch of intrusive questions about my gynecological well-being (it's ALWAYS 100% the woman's problem, right?!)
2. A bunch of suggestions to "Just Relax" or "Try Doing it In the Back Seat of a Car on prom Nite" (yes, I have had this said to me -- and by two different people!)
3. Interrogated as to "Why China?" (WHY NOT! Everything else is made there!)
4. Worries that I am going on some sort of maternity leave TOMORROW (hullo -- it takes 2 years to get her through customs -- but explaining THAT somehow makes me an ambassador of all things adoption and they then want to have the ENTIRE process explained in-depth!)
5. Questions about whether I will still be working at mu current job (yes -- because I need to pay off the adoption and re-invest money in my retirement account)
6. Assurances that "you'll get pregnant while you're waiting" -- as if I am going through the expensive, time-consuming process of adopting because I think it's a magical fertility treatment?! (Um, never wanted to be pregnant in first place, folks! And certainly don't want to ever again! It's just a means to an end!)
7. Don't want to be continually asked "Is she here yet?" (Um, no, and you asking me over the next two years will not pass the time more quickly for me, thank you very much).

Luckily, I was honest with my boss about this all along, but I still had to tell him about what happened with Notary, so he could be prepared when/if he starts getting inquiries about all of this from others in the organization.

One good thing, the notary -- being a member of the organization I am employed by, he refused to let us pay him the $50 fee he had quoted on the phone. "Professional discount," he said. Then he asked me about any upcoming golf outings. Okay, I see where this is going! Must find a couple golf outings to send him to, gratis. Will do!

The following day I had to go in for my polypectomy and another D&C. Guess what?! They get in there, and NO PHUCKING POLYP! Just a build-up of endometrium [sp?], which they scraped out. Sometimes this happens -- it presents on the sonoHSG as a polyp, but isn't in the end. Still, it ticks ya off a bit to have your va-jay-jay in pain and go through taking time off work, feeling like shit, put my sex life on hold, yadda, for NOTHING!

Honestly, my life IS stranger than fiction!

While all of this was going on, in early-mid August I decided to go back to see my prior counselor for a couple of sessions. Didn't want to while home study was going on, out of fear of being labeled something I am not (like psycho) though I did disclose I have seen one in past . But I was having a lot of many dark moments again, so to say (not like I am gonna hurt myself or anything dumb like that -- but like bursting into tears, more easily irritated than usual, lack of concentration, easily frustrated, yadda, yadda). Also, I kept having these "flashbacks" about the m/c -- to specific moments, and they would seemingly come out of nowhere, and all of a sudden my throat would tighten up and I was wanting to cry uncontrollably, and at inappropriate moments, like a business meeting.

Sorry, don't mean to sound messy. Just acknowledging some tough moments. And with the adoption finally feeling "real" I know I need to deal with this some more. I think I was also hyped up via a new round of suddenly pregnant women popping up everywhere I turned. I know the "it just happened" pregnant folks (grrr!) will never go away -- so I need to cope better with how I deal with them. Cause at that point my best coping mechanism was fantasies of mowing them down with a dump truck.

I am kidding. Sort of.

So fast forward (a little bit), to the following week. We FINALLY had all but two pieces of the adoption paperwork Holt needed collected, notarized, and FedExed off to Holt -- woo-hoo! (The two things we still needed were a copy of the photo/signature page of our passports, which we applied for the first week of June, but still hadn't arrived yet, and the I-171H form from Homeland Security -- more on both of these later].

Dr. J and I were soooooooooo proud of ourselves, getting everything in like this, so quickly and efficiently, despite some obstacles! But then it was like . . . take a step forward, take two steps back, take a step forward, no, two more phucking steps back . . . and here's why . . . .

We get an e-mail from Holt that about 75% of the notarized adoption paperwork we sent them had to be RE-NOTARIZED, by a different notary! WHY?! When you get something notarized it will say that the notary's "Commission Expires _____" and give some date in the future. Two of the three notaries we used had commissions that expire in November 2007. (The travelling notary had one expiring in 2010). WELL, Holt said the Chinese Gov't will want to see these forms notarized by folks whose Commissions expiring at least 6 months from now, so we need to find notaries whose commissions expire in 2009 or later, just to be on the safe side.

WHAT THE FUCK???????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I understand the problem, I don't even question it. But why the phuck weren't we warned of this BEFORE we had all of this shit notarized!?!?!?!?

"State Senator Hottie's" office has THREE people who can notarize documents -- two of whom have commissions that expire in 2010. WE used the one who had the commission expiring in November 2007, of course. OF COURSE! So Holt was returning all of this gawddamn phucking, phucking, PHUCKING paperwork, we which had so quickly and proudly scrambled to complete to us. MOTHER-PHUCKERS!!!

So upon learning this info on Wednesday, August 15th, I had what can best be described as a full-fledged meltdown. Dr. J was with a patient when I learned all of this via e-mail, so I called my friend dear Lori and just SOBBED on the phone. I literally whined to her, (I hate whining!)through my tears, "It's just not fair! I feel like saying phuck all this and going to Dr. Wakim's office and telling him to shoot me up with those eggs so I don't have to deal with all of this judging and public bullshit anymore." She was very soothing, didn't try to "fix" anything (I hate when people do that -- cause there's NOTHING to fix, the process IS what it IS, and can't be changed). But my nerves were so damn raw.

That night I took a LONG walk after work, and re-grouped a bit. Okay, I figure, better to know now than later (like when dossier is sent to China), and because they can't send dossier to China UNTIL we recieve from Homeland Security the I-171H form, it's not like we are truly being delayed, just more like friggin' annoyed and inconvenienced. Deep breath.

So the next morning I began scrambling (LOTS of phone calls) to find notaries who do have commissions that expire years from now. More on this later (yeah, can you believe there is still MORE to the notary saga -- cause I am tellin' ya, this part of the story ain't over -- it's more like a friggin' Lifetime movie mini-series!).

So Thursday morning we had to haul ass back down to Catholic Charities so they could fill out a form that Holt required (I swear, we could have filled out on our own, and mailed in, and Holt would be none the wiser) called the "Medical Conditions Checklist" -- which is basically a form that says which medical conditions you will or won't accept in a child referred to you. It was actually a good vent session with Mary Lou, who validated a lot of our feelings. Just having someone acknowledge our feelings, and understand the process, is immensely helpful. I actually now like Mary Lou.

We even told Mary Lou that is was a semi-relief that all (lol) we have to left to pay for is the $9,600 fee due when we accept our referral (and hey, we will have a good 22 months to save up for that, right, lol?!), and the $3,000 approximate travel fee for China (which we would credit card anyway -- I always credit card travel arrangements, as a cover your ass thing, in case there are any problems). We even said that in the end, this is not quite as expensive as we thought, but that is because Catholic Charities charges a lot less for things than say Bethany or Adoptions from the Heart (two, local, private adoption agencies that are popular with local folks who adopt internationally).

When I got home from work on Thursday, August 16th, we had a surprise in the mail . . . an envelope from Charleston, SC (who the hell do I know there?!) MY PASSPORT WAS THERE!!! Woo-hoo! It seems they process it at a facility in Charleston, SC (important point for later, I promise). This is VERY good, since a copy of the passport (certain pages) is also a requirement before our dossier is sent to China. I had applied for mine only a few days before Dr. J did for his, so we expected his to arrive in the mail a few days thereafter. We THOUGHT, I stress. Guess what, more on THIS later, too!

It was one of those "paperwork pregnant" moments, that you wish you could shout about to everybody, but know that few will understand, LOL.

So I followed up by e-mailing Masha Ma at Holt (our "Dossier Processing Specialist" -- yes, the Chinese lady) about receiving my passport, yadda, some other details . . . and Masha shoots back with:

"When you mail me the final document I-171H, please include the following payments for certifying and authenticating your dossier:

- $180.00 check made to "Commonwealth of Pennsylvania"
- $265.00 money order made to "The Chinese Consulate"

AAARRRGGGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

This is in addition to the costs spent FedExing all of our shit back and forth between us and Holt, and Holt & Commonwealth of PA , Holt and the State of New York (because Dr. J there for 18 years) and the Chinese Consulate.

AAARRRGGGHHH!!!!! Like I said, take a step forward, take two back. Grrrr.

So on Monday morning of this week, we go back to "State Senator Hottie's" office, this time to have Brianna, who's commission expires in 2010, re-notarize these documents. Only Brianna is NOT in the office she SWORE to me that she would be that morning, but rather one across town. We're annoyed, but okay, we drive over to that office. She notarizes them by attaching a page to them stating that "on this date, personally appearing before me were . . . (our names & addresses) . . . yadda, yadda" and she stamps the letter, yadda. GREAT!

On Tuesday, August 21st, my boss is back in office and I find one of our Board members who happens to be a notary with a commission expiring in 2011, to agree to notarize the signature of my boss on my employment verification letter. Of course, I had to let this Board member in on the whole gig. Sigh. He took it better than I thought. Turns out his daughter is adopted, too (she's white like them though, and my age). But he was more sympathetic and less cranky than usual when I told him why I needed this done, on short notice.

So Tuesday afternoon I am looking over all of this re-notarized shit when I notice that on the notary letter that Brianna has attached to FOUR of our documents . . . SHE HAS SPELLED Dr. J's NAME WRONG -- HIS FIRST NAME, EVEN -- MOTHER PHUCKING KEE-RIST!!!!!!!!!!!

Don't even ask if the Chinese Gov't will be okay with this. You KNOW the answer is a big whopping NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh wait, it gets better . . . Brianna left for vacation on Monday afternoon. Gone for the rest of the week. Really. I told you this notary thing reads like a Lifetime movie script!

So remember I said "State Senator Hottie's" office has TWO other notaries with good commissions? Well, I track down THE OTHER notary, Will, who works out of an entirely different district office of "State Senator Hottie" (he has three offices in his district, which is pretty typical for a State Senator).

So on Wednesday morning we trudge over to meet with Will (thank gawd my boss is either absentee lately or good-natured about me being so late to work each morning -- I'd have been canned at my old job by now). He notarizes these documents (now, remember, this is the THIRD time for these documents), and bless his heart spells our names correctly.

I happen to mention that my passport arrived, but Dr. J's hadn't yet. I just casually mentioned it, not expecting anything by it. He asks me if I am tight with another in either Congressman Murphy or U.S. Senator Specter's office. I say "yes, I used to work for Senator Specter's Chief of Staff." -- NOTE: "Hottie", Murphy, Specter are all Republicans, like myself, and thus I know these staffers well because (a) I am a lobbyist and am in contact with legislative staff frequently, and (b) Republican staffers tend to be a tight group, we watch out for one another, and help each other out when it comes to job opportunities -- I am sure the Dem staffers are the same, though.

So Will then gives me the name of Corene Ashley, who works in Senator Specter's office, and says she works passport magic, and I should call her, mention Will giving me her name, yadda, and see what she can do.

I trot back to my office, while Dr. J goes off to FedEx to Holt these three-times gawddamn notarized set of documents. I call Corene, explain what's going on, and how I used to work for Specter's now-Chief of Staff (that definitely softened her, though she was a REALLY nice lady anyway). She says she'll look into it, and call me back. She calls me back around 2:30 p.m., same day, WEDNESDAY of this week (this is an important fact!) Says she has the passport people on the other line, and asks me for some more information. She then calls me back at 3:30 p.m., and says they will "expedite" processing of his passport. GREAT, I say, and thank her for her time and effort, and tell her how awesome she is, yadda.

Now, let's consider THIS Thursday morning, August 23nd (yeah, just the other day!) My boss is away on a business trip, so I decide to sleep in an extra hour. While I am getting ready, I think I hear a knock at our door (doorbell is busted), but dismiss it, since there is construction going on at dilapidated house across the street from house which is being renovated.

OF COURSE, I missed a FedEx delivery. WELL, when I tracked package online and it is coming from Charleston, SC, which is same place MY PASSPORT came from -- and only LEFT there at 6:34 p.m on Wednesday, the SAME AFTERNOON Corene and I had spoken -- who else would send something overnight like that to us?!?! Later that day, Dr. J would pick up, at the Fed Ex warehouse, HIS PASSPORT!!!!!!!!

THIS WOMAN IS A GODDESS, DIVA, ROCK STAR, ALL ROLLED INTO ONE GIANT PACKAGE!!!

THUS, all that is left then is to receive the I-171H form from Homeland Security (and through my ability to navigate federal agencies I made a contact there who said our I-600A should be processed this week, which would then mean we'd receive the I-171H "approval notice" by next week), which we then would send to Holt, and then they send EVERYTHING to be "authenticated" by the PA Secretary of State and the NY Secretary of State, and then . . . dossier goes out to China!!!

Yes, we're still probably 4 weeks away from that magic package (called "the dossier") being shipped out to China, but I feel like . . . well like if we were in the IVF-world that we just had egg retrieval and told some of the eggs are viable!!! Silly, I know, but not sure how else to explain it?! I guess then when the dossier is mailed to China we'll consider it to be the "embryo transfer," and the Log-In Date (by Chinese Gov't) to be our "we're pregnant" moment?!?!

So a little bit excited right now, though tired and worn out from all of the "August drama" . . . letting small bit of hope back in. SMALL, please keep that in mind.

We're still waaaayyy broke right now. My hair is desperate need of a cut and some, um, toning. I am in-between gyms right now (cost-cutting measure), and we can't afford a present for the Nicole's wedding in CA next month (but hey, we'll be there, and she said that's present enough). Forget eating out anytime soon.

And I am still quite raw, emotionally. I had my post-surgical checkup with my terrifc Ob/Gyn, Dr. Khalili yesterday. Got a clean bill of health. He thinks we'll still wind up pregnant on our own, but is very respectful of our decision, and has been a tremendous source of support to me, personally. He actually said "give me a hug!" What a guy -- I adore him!!!

Life is still hard, tough. Still plenty of tears. Lots of stress, with the bills and Dr. J TRYING to get patients in, and us only having one income and 3x's as many bills. Sigh. So I still need everyone to please bear with me if I am flying high one minute and a cranky, depressed bitch the next.

And I am sorry this is blog entry is so long. But those of you who have been there for me (and if you have been, YOU KNOW IT BECAUSE I HAVE SLOBBERED ALL OVER YOU TELLING YOU HOW MUCH YOU MEAN TO ME!), well, this is "what has been going on with me." Sometimes it's just too stressful for me to discuss . . . people will ask about how you're doing, but so few are really interested in the truth. And though I may seem like such an open book, those who truly know me are well aware that there about a gazillion layers to me, and it's only through a serious amount of trust and support that that I ever let anyone peel even a sliver of those layers back, and begin to see what is really going on inside me.

But I needed to vent. And thus, you get "The Ping-Ping Missive."

Love me anyway, por favor?!

Cheers.

Part 2, Ugh

So I am about 12 hours away from this hideous procedure. You know it's bad when the RE tells you ahead of time. His phrase of "excruciating hell" keeps bouncing around in my already overtaxed brain.

I was emotionally spent from the home study this afternoon, and did not really feel like hauling ass to the Y afterwards. But watching Oprah interview formerly fat people motivated me. So did the knowledge that after tomorrow I will have to take a few days off from working out, since my whole va-jay-jay region (yes, taking this word straight from the vocabulary of the t.v. show "Grey's Anatomy") is going to be in "some pain." I hate that. I resent not being able to engage in something that helps me relieve stress, improves my mood, and lets me have some measure of control over my body.

Tonight, once again, sleeping in the Marines t-shirt. More channeling of tough guys: Dad, Noah, Col. Hunt, Mitch Rapp (don't care if he's fictional), and my hairstylist Shannen (who's been three, done that, and never flinches when I admit being scared or start to cry).

Dig deep, chickie poo.

When Part 1 of 2 Turns Out to Have a 3

I thought I'd only have to be brave for 2 more tests, then get to wave "buh-bye" to all of the medical and emotional bullshit Dr. J and I have been coping with. Turns out Part 1 is necessitating there to be a Part 3 (i.e. surgery). I'd shake my head and say "unbelievable," but then again this is my completely phucked up reality, so it's just par for the course (and I don't mean Oakmont).

So I had the SonoHSG test yesterday morning. They first take measurements of your uterus (with the transvaginal ultrasound wand -- like inserting a big curling iron in your tutu, hee hee), then doctor inserts speculum, then threads catheter through cervix and into uterus. Then saline is injected through catheter into uterus. Speculum pulled out, transvaginal wand reinserted, and ultrasound photos taken and displayed on monitor. Mmmm, yummy, eh?! LOL!

Wasn't as bad as I thought it would be (yes, I am still worked up over last year's full-fledged HSG test) . Granted, I popped a percocet about 90 minutes prior. Thank you, Dr. J.

However . . . they did find a 6 mm polyp in my uterus. RE does not think it's cancer -- his exact words, but it needs to come out. He is much more concerned about it causing or contributing to m/c's. RE says I can wait until August to have out, if I want to (I do -- I need a break in July, and some peace). And that my regular OB/Gyn will do surgery, under anethesia, at a hospital.

I think that I have gotten so freakin' used to bad news that my reactions to things are so flat and inappropriate it borders on insane. For example, when the doctor showed my the polyp on the screen and said I needed surgery, the following 3 things were the FIRST that I thought of:

1. Huh . . . I wonder how much a polyp weighs? Will I be lighter after it's out?
2. Phuck, I am gonna have to skip a few gym workouts due to phucking surgical recovery time. Dammit.
3. Hmmm, if it's cancer, I need to hide it from our adoption caseworker.

I still am having to have the endometrial biopsy next Tuesday. THAT is the hellish painful one (in RE's words). Two percocet that morning, for sure.

I am SO not looking forward to sharing all of this with Big Bill when he comes over for brunch on Sunday. He will not hear a thing after "cancer" (though it's unlikely, and I truly don't think it is). He'll turn green, then start rocking back and forth in his chair -- his drill, when he gets nervous about medical stuff with one of his kids, his sister, or niece. I like that he worries, though?! Makes me feel better, somehow, like someone is caring for me.

Good gawd, I am sooooo sick of all of this. I'd throw in the towel and flip off all of these people who insist on being up my wazoo if I could erase all doubts about cancer (and that's for Big Bill's sake, not my own).

I NEED A CALGON MOMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Being Brave

Okay, so I can admit I am getting more and more nervous . . . but I know that I have to keep going, in order to hopefully get some answers.

Maybe nervous is not the word . . . yep, I think fear has fully crept into my mental house, and is plunking her suitcase down. She is expecting to move in. I may have to let her.

Tired of being Ms. Tough Cookie all the time, and with the vivid memory of the last time I had something even close to this done to my body . . . I am trying my best to cope with the fact that, um, tomorrow is going to probably hurt. And what I have to undergo the following week will be, in the doctor's words, feel like "excruciating hell." Well, I appreciate that he isn't bullshitting me! There's nothing I hate more than being surprised, so I value that he played it straight with me.

So tonight I am taking my frequent advice to others, and doing some "channeling" of others, in the hopes that I can steal a bit of their strength to get me through Part I, tomorrow. With this in mind, I am sleeping in my favorite old Marines t-shirt that my Dad brought me home from one of his reunions. I am going to think about people who are REALLY tough, like Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines, and Cops, and try to put myself into some "zone" if you will -- with the hopes of pulling myself through to the other side of Part I tomorrow.

But who knows, it may just boil down to remembering the time, only a few months ago, when my Dad said that the thing that marked his children, three very, very different children . . . was that each was strong. Maybe that's enough.