Monday, May 31, 2010


Let's change the date on the last post to read: 5/29/10.

Yep, that's the official day that I climbed out of the pituitary/thyroid/endocrine hole. And I didn't just climb, I pretty much leaped out of the hole, true to form of my "old self."

It started with 45 minutes of cardio on Saturday morning. Early Saturday morning. Continuing on to supervising a mini golf play date with Ben and his favorite girl from class. Then on to the back yard and a major planting project. I pretty much fell into bed on Saturday night, but not before I realized that I gone a whole day without my heating pad and without having dizzy spells.

Then Sunday put Saturday to shame. 90 minutes of exercise. An hour of house cleaning. A drive to my sister's. Another drive to the South Bay for a dinner date. A late dinner date.

I thought I'd be trashed by this morning. I had about four hours of sleep last night. But I had it in my mind that I needed to quantify how much better I was and there was only one way to do it: get my butt to the nearest yoga class.

My beloved yoga has taken such a backseat to this whole endocrine mess. "You can't do yoga until your blood pressure comes up." Every doctor has told me this.

I don't know where my blood pressure was this morning, but after a double dose of Peet's, I was feeling optimistic. And more than a little hyped up.

So I found a class near my sister's. A 90 minute class. 90 minutes turned into 120 and as luck would have it, it was an arm balance practice! While the rest of the class practiced hand stands, forearm balances and side crows, I let myself sink into child's pose.

It was great. Not the class, itself. Unremarkable, at best, from an instructional standpoint, but it was just what I needed to convince myself that I am officially on the road back.

Several people have asked me this weekend, "Is it the medication? Or the diet? Or the supplements?" I wish I knew. But I'm not questioning any of it.

A little Western medicine, a few Eastern tweaks and a whole lot of flax = the prescription to ending my 30s on a healthy and high note. Did I mention how grateful I am?

Tuesday, May 18, 2010


Doctor appointment this morning. Blood pressure down. Weight up. Major frustration.


"Fourth of July," the doctor said. "Plan to put everything on hold until then."

How do you put parenting on hold? Clients certainly don't go on hold. Life - as it is in my world - does not just go "on hold."

So I booked a week long trip to Lego Land with Ben. In August.

And an appointment with a nutritionist. Tomorrow.

Little League and school both wrap up in the next month with all the requisite fanfare.

On hold? Not while I'm living this life.

Monday, May 10, 2010


When Ben was a baby, he used to say "awgock" for "all gone" or "all done." We still say it.

The MRI is awgok.

Sunday came with high anxiety in the house. I lashed out at my mother. Several times. I hauled Ben off to a friend's house because it was raining and I didn't know what else to do. I took my low octane Valium and waited. Nothing happened. My mom and Ben waited with me at the MRI center. The technician was running 30 minutes late. I asked the receptionist if I had time to get a drink. Ben, my mom and I ran down J Street, looking for an open restaurant. Nada. I ended up in AM/PM, with a six-pack of wine coolers, a large Slurpee cup and a long straw.

Two wine coolers later, I was calm enough to slide into the teeny tiny MRI space. I emerged thirty minutes later for a quick sip of wine cooler and a quick injection of iodine. Then back in for another thirty.

I quizzed the technician when she brought me out. I worked every possible angle. She gave away nothing, except for a huge envelope of slides - dozens of pictures of my brain.

There is a certain sense of peace and calm once every test has been completed. Now it's up to the specialists. My role is in this is awgock.

Saturday, May 8, 2010


Ben has a cute book that goes something like this:

Sunday, Funday
Monday, Runday

...and I can't remember the rest.

Anyway, around here this Sunday is being called "MRIday," even though it's Mother's Day.

I actually don't mind a bit. I celebrated Mother's Day with Ben in his classroom on Friday and I couldn't have asked for a sweeter experience. After several years of skipping Mother's Day activities in the classroom due to my busy work mornings, I decided that this was the year to go. After all, I justified, Mother's Day brunches in the classroom won't happen every school year. And I'm so glad that I went.

I'm relieved that the in depth look at my pituitary gland is finally happening, especially after taking more and more medication over the last couple of weeks, which clearly isn't making the symptoms any better.

My health insurance plan is a very pricey PPO. I cringe every month when I pay the premium and I cringe again when I deposit an ungodly amount of money into my Health Savings Account for the yearly deductible. Lately, though, I've been feeling pretty content with the decision I made a couple of years ago to spend a little extra on the comprehensive and self-directed plan that I have. My doctor said it best: "There are a lot of MRI machines in this town. Getting the approval to go into a machine is the biggest challenge." My nurse clients are still amazed that I'm not in an insurance queue, waiting even longer.

So, finally, Sunday - "MRIday" - will be here and I'll have the answers that I need to move forward and re-capture some semblance of life. Life as I used to know it.