Praying for Kitty

Often, when something terrible happens, you wake up--shaken but relieved--realizing the whole thing was a bad dream. And subsequently, everything is okay again.

Last night, I knew that even if by some act of God(dess) I could nod off, the sleep would be pointless, because even if I were to wake up this morning thinking/hoping it was all a bad dream, the reality that it's not would come crashing back onto me like a ton of bricks.

When your cat has a urinary tract problem, it can come on rather suddenly. It did this about two weeks ago, when he developed what we're fairly sure was a urinary tract infection, or UTI. He was restless, paced the apartment, went in and out of his box, and meowed more while sleeping less, but other than that he was okay and we weren't sure what was wrong. A couple days later, he was in a vet's office. The vet was unable to detect any problem via ultrasound because his bladder was empty and thus small. Plain film x-rays didn't reveal any stones in the kidneys or anywhere else. Judging by the symptoms we reported and the lack of other clinical findings, the vet assumed it was a UTI and prescribed a 7-day round of antibiotics. After about 2-3 days on the medication, he seemed to improve dramatically. Like smart pet parents, we finished the entire round according to instruction. He returned to his normal, happy, lovey self, and all was well.

...For a week. Until last night. Abruptly at 10pm he started howling around the apartment intermittently. We thought he wanted to play, as this was how he sounded when he held a milk jug cap in his mouth (his toy of choice). When it persisted with a little more intensity and a slightly higher pitch, accompanied by fruitless trips to the litter box (and our other bathtub as well, in which we saw a couple drops of urine) we thought, oh no, not this again. And yet, it was different. We figured he might be constipated and adjusted his lumbar spine and cold-lasered him on constipation and infection settings for a few minutes. No dice, so we didn't screw around.

Within an hour we were researching emergency vet clinics, finding one that was open 24/7/365. Thank God for living in the city. It has its moments, but it has its moments, if you know what I mean. A half hour later we were there, and he was whisked away to the back. In an emergency vet clinic, you wait out in the front lobby and let them do what they're going to do. It's not anything you want to watch. It's necessary and whatnot, but it's not an image of your fur-baby you want burned into your mind.

After what seemed like forever (but really wasn't), we were told he most likely has a blockage - he'll be sedated, catheterized, and fed fluids, painkillers, and anti-inflammatories over the course of the next few days. Sucks, but I can deal with that.

She prepared us for the fact that (to paraphrase) this may be just the beginning. Male cats are prone to urinary blockage, which is a medical emergency (so never, EVER screw around or hem and haw with this kind of thing!), and if this happens once, it can happen again. If it does, it may require surgery and even then, you're not out of the woods yet, because there are after-effects - life kind of changes irrevocably once the surgery is done.

He may or may not need surgery - time will tell. Until then, all you can do is pray. Sleep is optional.

PMS Thursday

Don't look now, but I think I'm on the warpath. Everything seems to be getting under my skin at once. And I have to talk about it, so that I can vent my myriad frustrations and maximize my chances of having a productive day after all. I make no guarantees on the latter. But the former sounds like a good idea anyway.

It always comes down to the little things. Like how between Firefox, Blogger, and my overtaxed Snow Leopard, my system hangs when I want to switch gears and go back and correct something while typing. Which is frequent, because my brain isn't working and I make stupid typos I can't think of an excuse for.

It also comes down to the fact that I'm only getting 3 hours of sleep per night as a rule this week. I had one good night where I got 6-7. Other than that, it's all about forcing myself to go to bed at 4am so I can at least get SOME sleep without feeling gnarly the next morning. I'm not tired during the day if I miss sleep; I just feel like shit is all.

Or the salespeople, omigod the salespeople. They're on my phone, in my mail, at my door, in my lobby, on my home phone (which was supposed to be unlisted but AT&T, true to form, dropped the ball entirely when we started paying them more money by signing up for Uverse...in a contract no less).

The door-to-door sales at the office is getting so bad that I actually printed up two physical pieces of paper; one is the San Antonio city code that governs door-to-door sales and explains how, simply by entering our suite despite our "No Soliciting" sign, they are technically breaking the law by falling under the "aggressive solicitation" definition. Nifty, huh?

The phone sales are even worse. HOW DARE THEY call me in the middle of the freakin' day to pitch their "we just want to 'verify' your listing" scams.

Needy patients - I love them all, but I've got one in particular whom I think I'm eventually going to have to start saying "refer to previous email" because I think by now I have answered some of this person's questions literally about 4 separate times. I give my email support unlimited for free (limited by what they can type and the fact that I check my email several times a day at my convenience), but there's a such thing as you have to actually read--and implement--the answers I give you. If you need clarification or elaboration that's one thing; but don't make the same complaint twice.

Dumbass labs who can't keep our provider numbers on file to save their collective asses. Yes, Quest Diagnostics I'm looking at you. Yet another Dallas-based wasteoid of a company that if you weren't so big I'd NEVER do business with. Dealing with their insurance-related incompetence is one of the major reasons I chose to stay out of insurance altogether. I'd rather spend my time focusing on my patients' cases (after the occasional blog-ranting to clear my head).

Now let's talk about UN-licensed, UN-certified practitioners who have very legal ability to interpret diagnostic testing whatsoever being allowed to attend classes meant to educate LICENSED doctors and other LICENSED practitioners on how to treat and manage COMPLICATED cases in which multiple body systems are involved. And let's talk about the sheer ignorance and snotty, hostile attitude that monopolistically held up the entire class, wasting time and dumbing down information.

The supplement company who sponsored this is going downhill and I'm actively looking at their competitors, trying to find suitable alternatives. Why? Because they are reducing me and the specialized service I provide to a cheap commodity, sending the message that anyone can do this, and creating a glut of supply that almost outpaces the demand for these services. The woman in question is a sour, bitter person who thinks they can treat autoimmune disorders because she knows about megadosing Vitamin D. Her patients are probably more well-read and knowledgeable than she is. Yikes.

And can I stop sneezing? Huge interruption and it creates misalignment in my vertebrae, which create headaches later. Laugh if you want. Look it up (from someone other than the Kwack watch folks), please.

Physically, I'm trashed. Allergies abound, weight won't go away (and in fact it keeps accumulating), the internal imbalanced condition that allowed a skin yeast to grow is still there even if the skin yeast itself is responding to a topical application of tea tree oil, my muscles are wiped out after one flight of stairs, I've still got two months to go on a gut bug protocol, I barely have enough brain power to write my professional blog(s), and our practice still isn't quite steady. It's not doing badly, but it's not where it needs to be. Did I mention I can't sleep? Oh and I'm peeing 3 times within the first 2 hours every morning. WTF?

My memory is trashed, too. I have no idea what is causing the inflammation; I've eliminated everything bad from my diet and I have little left to enjoy. No grains (occasional corn, MAYBE a gluten-free snack like cookies or homemade granola). No factory-farmed meats. Minimal conventional produce. I cut back on the thyroid-slowing foods. I avoid every single allergenic food I tested positive for (except organic milk because it's such a borderline allergy). I don't go hog-wild on nuts or seeds. I don't do artificial colors, flavors, or preservatives. I scrutinize labels for MSG and its aliases. I walk a couple miles at a time, a few times a week. I don't use alcohol, nicotine, or illegal drugs. I take no prescription drugs and minimal over-the-counter drugs only as needed. I don't use any conventional perfumes, laundry detergents, soaps, shampoos, or conditioners. I wear no makeup or bra (if that's TMI, I don't care right now). I don't go hog-wild on antibacterial soaps. I live super-close to work, I've identified my stressors (like driving), and I avoid/minimize them. I exercise professional boundaries and don't let anyone (except us) run our practice. I don't watch stressful things on TV at night. No doom-and-gloom or prophecies. I never watch the news or listen to talk radio anymore. What else am I supposed to do? Dammit.

Also, I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't in terms of organization. If I don't clean my desk, it gets full of clutter that is stressful to look at and keep processing. If I DO clean my desk, my memory is so shot I don't remember where I put anything so I end up frustrated and looking needlessly for things I need anyway.

And of course, I feel like I have to keep nagging the other half to get HIS things done. Did you do this yet? No. That? No. What have you been doing? Fuck all, is what it seems like sometimes. I'm sure that he, like me, is just doing his best. But I feel like as slow as I am (and I feel it, I'm aware of it, and it's frustrating), I feel like he's even slower and more inert. Nothing like one ass-dragging burnout trying to kick someone else in the pants.

Story of my frigging life. Am I a bad person if I recently started taking God(dess)'s name in vain?

Alamo City reality check

Yep, I still love San Antonio. Nope, this isn't going to be a bash-fest, so if you're a San Antonio hater, you might as well give up now, because I'm not going to allow you any satisfaction.

It is, however, a caution to all of those out there who fit in to certain groups: 1) single people looking to find a mate; 2) single people looking to have fun with other singles; 3) young people; 4) hip people; 5) those still in the workforce who 5A) can't work from home 5B) would like a decent-paying white-collar job 5C) are looking to build a business that does NOT cater to seniors, military, or Spanish-speakers...

I love San Antonio. (Did I say that already?) I love how everything is in a few-mile radius. I haven't even been to the Southside in 2 years. I don't venture more than 3 miles more than once a week, and then it's maybe 5-6 miles, most of which can be traversed via sidestreets. We have bike lanes, fuel-efficient buses that run on realistic routes, integrated neighborhoods, a Green Chamber of Commerce, a Whole Foods Market, organic produce at (SOME of) the local HEBs, and more people have heard of EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) than I care to imagine. We even have a bookstore that doubles as a no-kill cat sanctuary. And our animal control shelter is working its way toward no-kill status as well.

That said, it can be really tough. If you're not retired, Spanish-speaking, or military, you may struggle economically. The economy is not large here by a long shot, and people are careful about parting with theirs. This is probably why when the economic fit hit the shan 3 years ago (and hasn't let up much since, no matter what they say), we weren't too badly affected; our economy wasn't that big to begin with! It's not like it could shrink much more.

If you're into jazz, tejano, or bachata music, you're good to go. If you're into Americana, folk, singer-songwriter, eclectic, or obscure, you're SOL. Although the pervasive '80s influence is awesome. And the classic rock stations don't suck.

If you like mini-golf, real golf, amusement parks, eating out, movies, bowling, etc, you're fine. If you like water sports or Main Event-type places, fugetaboutit. The yoga and Nia studios are second to none; the martial arts spread is less consistent.

If you're gluten-free or otherwise under special dietary restrictions, never fear! No matter who you are, there's something out there for you. Vegan/vegetarian? No problem. Gluten-free? Gotcha covered. Organic? Done. Made from scratch? Plenty. Paleo? Still working on that one.

The Meetup groups are a mixed bag. There more to choose from in terms of the nutrition and health/wellness themes, but none of them are the young 20s-40s hip go-getters you'd think. It is, however, mostly retired people, many cancer survivors and whatnot. Several Veg*n groups, who would crucify me in a cold second. Everyone's all over this Forks Over Knives thing. Yawn. T Colin Campbell's disproof and downfall was sooo yesterday. Again, no Paleo groups. Yet. Hopefully that'll catch on before 5 years from now.

The News is marginally less stressful, but I've still permanently sworn off it. Life is always better if you have Uverse or something similar. I'd love to have a choice, though, such as AT&T's Uverse (which we have) pitted against Verizon's FIOS services (which we don't have).

I like the integration and diversity you find within the neighborhoods, but I wish the neighborhoods weren't quite SO integrated. How integrated is too integrated? Well, when we walk a quarter mile and see gang tags (vernacular for hoodlums marking their territory with spray paint) on mailboxes, and another quarter mile gets you hit up for some change from a panhandler who reeks to the bone of cigarette smoke. Yay.

It's not a dangerous neighborhood, but rundown doesn't even cut it. It's crumbly, cracked, trashy, and hopeless. The air has a permanent smell of stale motel hallways and cheap detergent. Tinged with more smoke. And maybe the oil from someone's car. Although that's not as common as you'd think because they all know how to fix cars. At least the neighborhood is good for something. If you can get past all the subwoofers.

There are no Mormon proselytizers to speak of, really. I think we got approached twice. Once we sent them to the neighbor downstairs (who has since been evicted...she needed to find God the most desperately of all of us, I think) and the other time they cornered us on the deck and we shot the shit for a while. They gave up after a while, though. I told them I was Wiccan and then later I let it slide that I was happy going to hell. I probably didn't put it that way, but it probably would've been funnier if I did. I didn't want to seem disrespectful, though.

There isn't a huge Scientology presence, either. I mean, there are 3 different meeting places, but it's not big here like it was in Dallas and Austin.

The malls are great. They're QUIRKY, ALL of them, but they're fine. Anything you need, you can find.

Subluxation-based chiropractic doctors don't do so well here. Good. Oh, and not everyone's a Parker grad. And there aren't 5 individual DCs on every block. There's at least one in every complex, though; we just have fewer complexes.

For those of us who practice normally and ethically, though, the sentiment is generally pro-chiropractic. Makes our job much easier. Insurance sucks, though - everyone around here has BCBS (better up until last month), or UHC (sucks no matter what).

Most apartments are managed very horribly. Parking problems, criminals, noise, gangs, vehicle thefts, break-ins, delayed repairs, security deposit scams, you name it. Even in areas that should be good, the apartments are still shit. Few and far between, if you look hard enough and have a little luck on your side, you can find a diamond in the rough. Don't get taken; looks can be deceiving - ask around.

We get out and do more things and walk around way more often than we ever have, even in Frisco. We don't feel like prisoners in our own house on weekends like we did in Dallas, kept inside by traffic and 'tude.

People are generally nice, courteous, and polite here. They use turn signals, and they let you in when you put yours on. The tradeoff: they drive slower. Don't tailgate or they'll go even slower. Don't be a dick, and put your road rage hat away. No room for it here. You'll only stick out like an ass.

Lots of wildflowers. How do we know this? Because there's LOTS of un-mowed grass - in yards, parks, large easements, empty lots, you name it. There are no pristine lego pad lawns of perfectly manicured uniform carpets of grass. Not happening. Things grow natural and wild here, and everyone's OK with that. Enjoy the bluebonnets!

Not every apartment has recycling. You'll have to throw everything in the trash. You'll have to get over that socially-ingrained "I'm going to hell" feeling.

You won't get much of a chance to listen to talk radio unless you do so in your office, because you don't have a long commute stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic anymore. Ditto goes for a traffic report, because if you're not retarded, you won't need one.

Bars are there, even strip clubs, but they're not totally obvious. They're all kind of hidden away. They're right out your back door, even just a few miles away from the best neighborhoods, but they have the decency not to obnoxiously announce to the world that they're there.

Roads are getting done at different paces. Some are smoothly redone; the potholes of others dare to tear your truck apart.

I'm tickled pink we don't have much sports to speak of. We don't need them. They attract the wrong people. Although maybe they'd boost the economy a little. That's still sagging.

Overall, though, it's an awesome town. I hope I die here.

This is my brain. This is my brain after this weekend. Any questions?

Oh shit. I'm going to hell now. I friggin' forgot to call my grandmother on her birthday. I obsess over dates. I can remember the time someone was born, years after they told me. Hell, they will have forgotten and I will still remember!

It was otherwise quite the productive weekend. I mean, we put in some office hours on Friday, even working straight through lunch and staying past our regular weekday closing time (which is well past Friday closing time, as we work only a half-day on Fridays). We designed 3 different spankin' new business cards, too. And I recovered from a very needy, dysthymic patient who, without meaning to, can suck the life right out of you. It's fine, I know I bargained for that - that's just part of the gig when you help chronically sick, miserable people. And sometimes natural healing isn't fun at first, because you can feel worse for a while before you start feeling better. And what's more is, sometimes I don't have the answers right away. And even more, sometimes the human body forgets to read the physiology textbook and it goes off and does something unconventional.

So anyway... we finished out Friday by registering a few more domain names. We now have 17 in all. Yee-haw! Saturday we redirected a couple domain names to our main site and threw a second website onto the server under another one of our domain names, all in preparation for the radio show scheduled to go down that night. Which it did, without a hitch, until the very end when we all started falling apart at the same time. The entire show went strong, competent, and perfect until the last 5-10 minutes. But hey - at least if I fell apart, everyone else fell apart with me. So I don't feel so bad.

Then we went out to unwind at a burger joint and had some good laughs with friends. Sunday we went and checked out furniture stores in search of lamps to make sure we could still get one that handled the 3-way incandescent light bulb (shhhh) and a quest for lamps turned into a quest for end tables to set them on, which then turned into an excuse to entertain the idea of changing out the couch, followed by the resolution that we had no real excuse for a new couch when the one we already have works so well and our money supply is still so tight (and with so many more important things to save for like oh, a house).

We continued the search today, after which I made like 9 blog posts (I lost count) and listened to 2 parts of the second nutrition module, on which I'm already over a month behind. My husband even finished up the computer project and got the office cleaned, as well as some laundry done. I did dishes. He vacuumed. It was beautiful. So is our apartment when it's clean. Which it's not completely, but at least some rooms are and you just want to go exist in them for a while. And then I got to wondering why the hell it's so hard to clean other rooms? The living room and kitchen for some reason can never get clean, no matter how much attention we give them and how much time we spend cleaning them. It's like it does no good. Maybe we have too much clutter? Probably, but it's not like we can really get rid of anything. *sigh*

I got great sleep, too. And I responded to emails from frantic patients, researched information (realizing that half the foods I eat suppress thyroid function and realized my thyroid issue is probably due eating copious amounts of those foods daily for the past two years), and then experienced the ensuing panic that sets in when you start wondering how long it'll take to reverse that process if you've been contributing to it for two years already??

Then I craved a Big Mac and fries REALLY bad (this started a few days ago and had been growing ever since) even though every fiber of my being is very well aware of how bad those things are and on how many levels. I exercised a superhuman amount of willpower and went against the craving (again - it's not like that's the last time I'll ever be in that situation), and opted for a double quarter pounder with cheese, hold the bun. And I was thankful that the plastic utensils I used to cut and eat this burger (and you thought I was going to hold it with my hands) were actually strong enough to cut the meat (yes, I've dealt with plasticware THAT flimsy). And thus was the end of my evening--and my weekend.

So maybe it's little wonder that I forgot my grandma's birthday. I swear I thought of it earlier. But I had planned on acting on that thought later. Oh well - remember the peas? It's not like my grandmother isn't important - but my brain is like a cup, and my life is like water that fills the cup. And the cup is really small. Which means it doesn't take much before the water reaches the brim and spills over.

There's always tomorrow. Let's hope I can at least get through that :)

Pushing peas off the plate...

When I was a kid, I hated peas. Well, OK - I still do. But these days, I will (begrudgingly) eat them anyway, because I know they're supposed to be good for me. (I draw the line at lima beans, though. I tried them - twice. No dice.)

Anyway, when I was a kid (deja vu), I would obviously eat the other food on the plate (the chicken, mashed potatoes, and usually one other item) first, so that when it came to the peas, I could take a few bites and then claim (truthfully) to be full.

And if that didn't work? I pushed them off my plate and under the lip - you know, when the rim of the plate comes off the table and leaves a small space underneath....just small enough to hide a few peas? ....Yep.

So now I have this brilliant concept I came up with a few years ago when we started school without sufficient amounts of Vaseline on hand: when my personal plate gets full, I prevent burnout by moving a few activities/commitments/tasks off the list - in essence, pushing the excess peas off my plate.

It works really well. I mean, there's a limit - you can't just turn into an inert gas and sit there. And there's fine print - you can't just neglect to pay a bill and say, "welp, I pushed some peas off the plate this month!" It doesn't work quite that way.

But in these hectic days, where the "little things" can make or break your sanity, sometimes being able to blow off a minor errand or meeting can be very liberating.

See, this is one of the perks of being self-employed - you get a whole lot more say-so over your own schedule. Working for someone else but more independently is the next best thing. In either situation, you're free to prioritize, and you're not necessarily obligated to get every little thing done (although sometimes it may sure as hell seem like it).

I used to process payment for lab orders through my office. Now I let the patient deal directly with the labs themselves, which really isn't a chore - rather, it's quite painless and it costs less. Meanwhile, frees up a lot of time on my end. I hand them the orders and it's done and over with. Clean. Felt good to push that pea right off the plate.

I did health talks in my practice. For a year. To two people. One of whom was already a patient, and the other who had referred others but was never going to be a patient himself. It was more of a community service, really. Even if it was just a community of two diehards. As appreciative as I was of their dedication and support, and as much as I cherished the twice-monthly gathering, I decided enough was enough, and I pushed that pea off the plate.

See? Liberating. Simplifying. I'm not good at eliminating clutter from anywhere else in my life - hell, my email account is filled with emails going back 8 years - but I'm great at eliminating clutter from my to-do list.

It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine. So much for my happy ending

Not that I'm exactly torn between the creations of REM and Avril Lavigne respectively...although the former is borderline-divine.

Yeah, apparently the world was supposed to come to a screeching halt today and those who had accepted Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior were supposed to enter a warp zone on a fast track to heaven. Guess I missed that part. Oh wait, so did they.

It's more than kind of funny when the even conservative AM radio talk stations AND your Christian friends all poke little jabs at the most intensely fundamentalist among them. Seriously...did anyone actually think the world was going to end this evening as scheduled? And was anyone seriously egotistically self-righteous enough to believe that they, along with a select few identical drones, were among the Chosen Few on the guest list?

Lord I hope that doesn't apply to anyone I know. Not because I'm afraid of offending anyone, but because I'm somewhat concerned about my judgment of character and selection of friends if I formed any alliances with someone so 1) naive and 2) fundamentalist. Scary.

So the 6pm time slot came and went and in the end we were all still here, sitting around, listening to the radio and working on our iDevices. Question is, if the world had imploded on itself, would it miss itself? Would it miss us? Would the right hand of the Father actually have come down from heaven to scoop up the cream of the crop like an Allstate commercial? Somehow I doubt I would've made the guest list. But hey - if it's Opposite Day or Family Guy's Peter Griffin in Imagination Land, I just might have a shot. Maybe God doesn't have hands. Or maybe s/he doesn't care how I view him/her/it.

As it stands, I still have a radio show to prepare. I still have housework to do tomorrow and patients to see on Monday. I still have rent to pay and pounds to lose. Nothing happened, nothing changed. Life continues status quo. Did we actually expect anything different?

It was funny watching and listening to the freaks, though. And true to 21st century society, there were a fair share of opportunists seeking to profit off the whole thing. Aren't there always?

Halos & pitchforks

A while back I lived in a godforsaken town that shall forever remain nameless and plausibly denied. This town had a newspaper that ran a miscellaneous little column called Halos & Pitchforks. It gave kudos to peeps who deserved it, and put the smackdown on douchenozzles who had it coming. Well, so will I.

Pitchforks go out to my thyroid gland, which, for reasons still unknown, are slacking in the thyroxine-production department, despite an increased kick in the pants from the pituitary gland. Halos go out to newly-discovered medical scrub designer brand Koi for making me look (and feel somewhat) skinny again.

See how this works? Let's proceed...

Pitchforks to my neighbors downstairs who insist on blasting Tejano all day on weekends. Halos to speaker manufacturers that still make good speakers that I can lay facedown into the floor to childishly retaliate with music of my own.

Pitchforks to the lab companies who make things so unnecessarily difficult by treating lower-volume (read: not a cattle call hospital) doctors like something south of bathtub scum. Halos to the third-party middlemen that actually make ordering labs borderline-pleasurable.

Halos to Mac for making awesome iWork templates and on-board basic-but-dignified website-building software. No pitchforks at all...except maybe for that spinning colorwheel. But we all now that's Firefox's fault.

Pitchforks to the prospective patients who badger me about pricing when I have already friendly-but-firmly stated I could not discuss that until the appropriate time (implying that a free, general info session doesn't qualify as such). Halos when they sign up anyway...we'll see.

Halos to medical bookstores. Pitchforks to the chiro colleges who can't seem to emulate a med school's dignity. Welcome to trade school uncertainty and marketing at med school prices and stress.

Halos to the brave souls sticking their necks out to help drive the evolution of our profession. Pitchforks to those who seek to limit us all by trying to force their philosophical dogmatic decisions on the rest of us.

Halos to spellcheck. Pitchforks to those who can't seem to use it...or worse, ignore it.

Halos to my mother for her addictive granola, cowboy boot pen-holders, and kick-butt fashionably-sewed vests.

Pitchforks to repetitive commercials on TV. Pitchforks to me for watching too much of said TV LOL

Halos to colleagues I follow on Twitter who follow me in return. Pitchforks to those who don't return the favor.

Pitchforks to AT&T who seem to have suspiciously slowed down their network for the iPhone 3 holders (who wish not to upgrade) the millisecond the iPhone 4 came out. Halos to Apple for making the iPhone in the first place. Pitchforks AT&T...yes, again.

In fact, pitchforks to all companies who are increasingly forcing people into bundled services and long contracts. No halo to be had there. Sorry.

Halos to Google for such feature-rich tools, like satellite maps and being able to search for images by their predominant color hues. Pitchforks that it takes so damn long to load...still waiting.

Pitchforks to AT&T. Again.

Rehashing Hashimoto's

It's not like I didn't see it coming, but I also never thought it would happen to me. I was the skinny one with perfect proportions that everybody hated, who could eat as much as I wanted of anything I wanted and never gain a pound. I had skinny jeans and my pick of the boys growing up.

My how things change. I started gaining weight near the end of 2008, through summer of 2009. The pounds piled on effortlessly, and it seemed like I accumulated about 5 lbs a month right around the time of my cycle. I gained almost 20 pounds in 6-8 months. Because this took place right after getting married, people winked and nudged me, "are you SURE you're not pregnant?" I won't elaborate, but I was pretty dang sure I wasn't - and I was right. I leveled off, gaining and losing 5 pounds here and there, occasionally getting about 7-10 pounds off and then packing them right back on again, 5 pounds in a single week.

Now, I know I should be more active. I'm relatively sedentary in the office and after getting home in the evening. I also know I should cut back on carbs and sugars. My meals are phenomenally healthy but my snacking, as organic as it is, still needs help. But my diet is pretty spot-on for the most part and I get way more movement than most people out there. I take no medications, so I'm not bogging down my liver. My stress is slowly coming down (on average), so my weight should be coming off....right? Wrong.

So, having gotten tired of the "fanny pack" in the front and the "puffy butt" in the back, I posted to a hunter-gatherer lifestyle message forum. The first reply was beautifully simple: have you had your thyroid checked? It was somewhat embarrassing, because that is what I DO. We went to the 3-day intensive last summer on this very subject. I help patients with this very issue. And here I was, Func Med extraordinaire, and I hadn't even checked my own. I looked at last summer's records; none of the thyroid tests had been included on my orders last year (I'm to blame; I ordered my own tests and neglected to check it).

So, the results came back. High TSH. Functionally high, mind you, but well into that territory. There was no question. T4 was bumping along a little sluggishly, too. And my white blood cells needed serious help, so there's obviously an immune problem. Given the concomitant gluten intolerance and my mother's positive thyroid antibody result, well, that seals the deal. Even without an antibody test, I'm almost 100% certain: Hashimoto's.

Wanna know what Hashimoto's looks like? Forget the stereotypical pictures of thin hair, dry skin, and brittle nails. Forget the fatigue, sensitivity to cold, and constipation. I have NONE of those. (Sure those symptoms are very characteristic of low thyroid, but don't do what I did and rule out a thyroid issue and/or neglect to test thyroid function simply because you don't have any of the above symptoms. Low thyroid, I now realize, comes in many flavors.) But nope, I have thick hair that indeed comes out more easily, but not THAT easily, and certainly not in clumps. I have oily skin and strong nails. I do not get tired in the afternoon, and I have to lull myself to sleep at night. I do get warm easily. I'm alert and energetic.

I'll tell you what I DO have: mild brain fog. It's very mild, so much so that I might not notice it had I not been trying to run a new practice this past year. But I notice that I forget things or fail to absorb information. Often, things don't "stick". My memory is suffering and my brain fatigues faster than it should. I find myself having to take breaks so that my brain can recoup.

I've never been pregnant, I don't take birth control pills or any other hormones, I don't partake in "crash" dieting, and I haven't yet reached menopause - all major triggers for a thyroid problem. I do, however, have a fairly high glucose average throughout the day; this may have triggered an insulin spike or ten, setting off the chain.

But seriously - if you look at me, I'm not your typical low thyroid individual. I'm not depressed, I'm not totally brain-fogged in, I'm not fat throughout my body, my hair is thick (hoping it stays that way), my skin has more oil than most, my nails grow full and fast, and I find myself pushing the Tabasco envelope to induce heat resistance. I'm up with the alarm and I'm up late into the night, without ever napping during the day. I'm also still within relatively healthy weight (hoping THAT stays that way too). You wouldn't see me on the street and know Hashimoto's instantly. In fact, even if you knew what there was to know about the condition, you may not even peg me for having it.

That in itself is a testimonial to a decent lifestyle. Here I am without having taken any steps to balance out my problem, nor taking any medications, and you probably couldn't tell (except for the fact that I tug at my jeans every 5 seconds). But when you eat well, move often, and manage stress, life pays you back. Even if you eventually owe some.

Soup: Tan resistance, Bullet-dodging, Sleep, Internet browsers suck, and Facebook (always) sucks

Back in the MySpace days, (which I'm increasingly tempted to resurrect), I blogged a little on my page. It wasn't much, but it was fun. Back then, I often couldn't think of a lot to say about any one thing so I took a few dominant thoughts circling around my head and put them into a post. Hardly any of the topics had to do with each other, but it turned out fine.

We've been fairly busy and a little short on spare time, so I haven't had much of a chance to conceive of any deeper thoughts as of late, but since a few thoughts still drift about here and there, some might be worth mentioning. Mostly cybersmall-talk. You be the judge.

I've spent a lot of time outside lately, walking to various places (score one for older, integrated neighborhoods without a lot of hyper-draconian zoning laws). In so doing, since we haven't had more than an inch of rain since October, much of that time has been spent under the beating hot sun. And yet, fair-skinned, easy-burn little ol' me doesn't have a lick of skin tone change to show for my efforts--which I find extremely odd. While I think that being brown and leathery is disgusting and unnatural, I would like at least some kind of acknowledgment of the sun on the part of my melanocytes. You know, just to ping the rest of us of their existence.

Every so often, in practice, I feel like I'm dodging a bullet. People will come in, expressing interest in what I do and seeking help and I'm thankful for that and I am indeed excited to help. However, some people just seem a little "off". Whether everything is purely innocent and genuine or whether there's a sinister motive lurking under a facade of sorts I may never know (nor do I want to). But this is why I'm not always bummed when the possible patient and the program turn out not to be a match for whatever reason (usually semi-pressing symptoms or the costs involved in going my route). I wish it would've worked out but to try and force it (even if I succeed) may end up doing more harm than good.

I've been sleeping!! In bed, no less. Celebrated my first month, I think, this last weekend. I'll fall asleep on the couch and wake up sometime in the middle of the night and schlep into bed where I stay asleep until long after the alarm starts going off.

Oddly enough, I also haven't had allergies since the end of March (I think). They seemed to stop right around the time I started sleeping better. I don't know if it's the lower stress or if it's the fact that we've had no rain for anything to grow. I'm inclined, actually, to lean toward the former, because we still had pollen showers and flowers/trees that bloomed despite the drought, even long after I started sleeping better. The allergy relief seemed to coincide much more closely with sleep quality.

Can we PLEASE have a decent internet browser? Safari lacks even basic functions and features and it's a memory hog that just plain sucks. Firefox gets confused and congested every so often (Microsoft-style), and...that's it. There ARE no other browsers. I also hear Google Chrome blows. So in this day and age of 2011, it's time to deliver something decent! That is all.

Facebook continues to suck doesn't it? In fact, its suckage factor continues to grow. The latest craptastic maneuvers include 1) eliminating a cursor in the comment box so that when you're typing a comment and you need to change what you wrote a few sentences back, you can point your mouse to your best guess, but you never know for sure until you start typing. Mystery Meat! and 2) yet another forced migration to a new-and-retarded layout. Casualties of war include useful things like discussions and whatnot that will be "archived", whatever that means. My question is, will we still have access to the past information? If so, how do we access it? If not, why the hell not? *Sigh* Facebook. Tsk, tsk. A mass return-migration to MySpace seems possible, even almost inviting.