Hibernol

I never did get to that second appointment. I took that cough medicine with codeine and hibernated. I was dimly aware of my husband trying to wake me up for the appointment, and then finally giving up and asking me if I wanted him to cancel it for me, and then doing so. Then I went to bed and it was a sequence of disjointed events... wake up, go to the bathroom, take another dose, come back to bed, repeat. I called in sick today. I have to make up some of the time from this week or I won't have enough PTO for my trip to Florida in late July.

I really hate being sick.

Two thirds, bitches!

Awww yeah! I am two thirds of the way to my goal weight. I've adjusted the goal weight upward by three pounds to match the upper end of the range for the lowest mortality rates for my height and frame. If I lose more, awesome. If not, the goal represents a significant milestone in better health for me.

I'm going solely by the readings from my own bathroom scale, since I can weigh myself at the same time of day in the same place. Readings from scales at my doctors' offices are always wonky because they are calibrated differently and the readings happen at different times of day. I have gone to an appointment with one doc in the morning and another doc the same day in the afternoon and had weights that differed by 8 pounds.

I'm still sick. I went to the doc and got a prescription for some knock-me-on-my-ass cough stuff with codeine (yum!), which I will take when I get back from the appointment I made with my psychiatrist to discuss changing my meds again.

Correction: I am going to take it now, because my wonderful husband has arranged to come get me and drive me to my appointment. Whee. Oblivion, here I come!

It's phlegm! Hooray, phlegm!

On Saturday, we went to Shakespeare on the Green to see Taming of the Shrew. The two-minute pre-show improv thinger had just begun when the skies opened up and the rain poured out. Lightning was evident, and the show stopped immediately so the tech people could get out of the metal towers.

Nate, Michael, Sam, Erica, and I clamored around, gathering up the chairs, blankets, picnic gear, etc. Nate was pulling a little red wagon filled with most of our belongings, and I offered to go with him in case things fell out, so he could make better time. I was unaware that he had parked over a mile away. I got soaking wet, and I think that this is the point where I became susceptible to the bug I seem to have right now.

My throat is made of sandpaper, and my sinuses feel like they are stuffed with cotton. Every now and then I snerzle and produce a nasty bloody clump of evil from deep within my nasal passages. Yeah, I know - far from pleasant to read - try living it.

I started feeling like this yesterday morning and ended up leaving work around this time to go home. I slept most of the day, and then slept again at night. I'm hoping that throwing enough sleep and fluids at this thing will make it go away more quickly.

My supervisor is really cool. We chatted via email about my frequent illnesses, and he said that he doesn't need additional physician documentation, as long as I make up all the time. Can't go destroying goodwill like that, so Friday will be spent at work, making up all of the time.

Bottling up the crazy

So we've been messing with my meds, my doctor and I. Seems that the combination I was taking was doing wonders for my depression and anxiety, but was fucking with my sex drive and ability to orgasm. Anyone who has been keeping up with my blog knows that decreased sex drive and anorgasmia are seriously sucky things for me.

I am taking Wellbutrin XL for depression and Lexapro to kick up the anti-anxiety effects. Wellbutrin actually has anti-anxiety effects built in, but they weren't working well enough for me. The doctor decided that Lexapro is probably the culprit of the sexual side effects, and is of the belief that upping the Wellbutrin should do the trick. So, he has me taking half as much Lexapro as I had been previously, and one and a half times the Wellbutrin. He thinks maybe the reduced bowel transit time as a result of the surgery is causing less of the Wellbutrin to be absorbed, so hopefully of the horrendously high amount of Wellbutrin he has prescribed for me to take, some of it will stick. He has hopes that the Lexapro can be cut out entirely, eventually.

Well, the good news is that the sexual side effects are reduced. Not entirely gone, but reduced. The bad news is that the crazy is making a comeback. This is seriously not cool. I am testy and panicky and weepy and simply not entirely sane.

So, the question is - do I want to be functional in reality and dysfunctional sexually, or fucked in the head and awesome in bed? I was seriously hoping I wouldn't have to decide between the two, but as my doctor and I try and discard each of his ideas, I start to realize that the choice may have to be made.

I'm still thinking.

The coolness of Erica, some more

Erica made me a present. Once again, I am astounded by her awesomeness. Please click on the image if you too would like to be a delicate fucking flower.


Oh, and she also wrote a great post to All Write, Already.

Sleepy Pizza

Recipe for decadence:

Sominex
Cold, leftover, but really yummy pizza
A very considerate spouse or significant other

Take 1 Sominex. Do whatever getting-ready-for-bed regimen you normally do for about 20 minutes. Get into bed with your spouse or significant other. Cuddle for a few moments and then decide to have sex. Have really awesome sex. Bask in the afterglow. Mention that you're really happy and sleepy but you are thinking about a slice of leftover pizza. Accept spouse's offer to bring you a slice of pizza in bed. Without sitting up, eat the slice of pizza, making happy noises, and then fall asleep.

Weight loss update

I've made two changes to the weight loss ticker at the top of this page. First, I decided to count the 10 lbs I lost prior to the surgery, since it actually was part of the weight loss endeavor (a tougher part than much of the rest, even). Second, I lowered my goal weight by a few pounds. Now the amount to be lost is not that nice round 150lbs that it was before, but it's also a more accurate reflection of where I want to be when all is said and done.

Michael and I had made a deal to start doing crunches last week, but then I got pleurisy, and I'm supposed to avoid anything that can strain my lungs, including lifting and any other exertion. Crunches are right out. When I can sneeze without crying out in pain, I'll start exercising again. I'm really gung-ho to start with the crunches, because I'm seeing the effects of the weight loss, and the smaller size of jeans make my ass look awesome. However, they make my love handles and tummy flab more noticeable, so that stuff has to go.

Also, I've had some unexplained lower back pain lately, and crunches will help prevent reinjury to my back. It's something I should have been doing all along as long-term physical therapy.

In other news, I found an old t-shirt of mine that fits(pictured above) which brought back a wave of nostalgia. I also bought a few wigs. I'm having fun with life, and pleurisy and digestive issues notwithstanding, I am very happy to be living it.

Guilty pleasure

This is embarassing, folks... but I really like pork rinds.

omgcute!

There are some ohmygodcutebabygeese at work, now. Baby geese are so soft looking, I want to cuddle one. But then it would poop all over me and the adult geese would bite my fingers off.

There's someone at work who was charged by a goose while walking on the path. He got a pretty funny photo of the angry goose with his cell phone. This was well before the babies were hatched, so that can't be chalked up to protectiveness - that's just typical mean-spirited goosiness.

I broke a thumbnail this morning. It split, but luckily not at the quick. I had to file it all the way down, but it didn't hurt. I gather from other people's stories that I got away lucky.

I was diagnosed with pleurisy on Monday. Every time I sneeze or cough, I get a stabbing pain in my chest. I would not recommend pleurisy to anyone shopping for a disorder.

Nailed

There is a chick at work clipping her toenails. I kid you not. That is so not okay.

Speaking of nails, it's been over a month since I last bit my fingernails. I'm so proud of me. I still don't quite know how not to scratch myself up accidentally all the time, or how not to chip my nail polish by reaching for stuff. I suppose that kind of thing will come in time. I'll be dainty yet, damnit.

Welcome to the Matrix

Some of you may have read my recent blog posts, or seen my pics on Flickr.com, and wondered just who the hell Erica and Sam are. Well, it's about time I posted about them, because they are extremely important to me.

First, some background. You may not know this, but Michael and I are polyamorous. That link goes to a resource with a wealth of information about the topic, but it's still the kind of term that means different things to different people, like "agnosticism", or "awesome", or "eight inches". When Michael and I met, we agreed that poly basically meant that we would not be monogamous, but would count one another as "primary" and would do nothing and no one without making certain that it would not adversely affect one another. As time goes on, our definition of poly evolves and changes, but so far at the same rate in the same direction, so it's all good. Michael and I both came into the relationship identifying as poly, which (in addition to myriad other things) clinched the deal on selling us on one another. For most of our relationship, with a few minor dalliances, our polyamory has been largely theoretical. Recently, this has changed.

Enter Sam and Erica Tesla. Our relationship with them is still relatively new, but hell - humans' relationship with the planet Earth is still relatively new. In any event, we're rapidly becoming a polyfamily with group marriage as the eventual result, if all goes as it has been. We already have a name for our hypothetical commune - Doublemeat Palace.

Between our two households, we have six cats. This is especially daunting to me and Sam, as he and I are the catbox cleaners for our respective homes.

As if four adults and six cats were not enough, we will have to make room for Erica's other boyfriend, Will. I know very little about Will, but he will be coming to Omaha in July, and I will get to meet him then.

Our relationship matrix has already had some awesome benefits. For one thing, we're having a lot of fun. More people = more stuff going on at any given time. I have hardly had a moment to take a deep breath in the last few weeks, let alone to blog. Sure, that can be considered a negative impact, too... but how exciting would my blog be if I had no life about which to post?

Another benefit is the increased confidence we're all experiencing. It's one thing to be told by your significant other that you're beautiful. When your three significant others all agree that you're stunning, how can you argue? This has helped me get back on track with my weight loss (as has the additional... um... exercise.)

Michael's confidence has also improved greatly. For this I am definitely thankful. The thing that frustrates me most about my husband is his self-deprecation. Seeing the reduction of that is certainly something to celebrate.

There have already been many "I love you"s tossed about, and we already mean them. Michael and I were certain we were in love with one another on our first date, and we were only slightly less quick to be certain with Sam and Erica. We are constantly discussing our thoughts, feelings, motivations, and concerns, and all of the communication stuff that every relationship (poly or monogamous) should have discussions about. When done properly, poly relationships are healthier simply because of all of this communication. Of course, if done improperly, we'll end up Jerry Springerfodder.

Truly though, I feel really confident about the probability of this succeeding. All of us are really self-aware, and committed to making this work. Still, we are approaching the possible consolidation with all due caution, and it will probably not be for a couple of years that it occurs. We want to make sure we have a good amount of proven success at making our lives together work before we explain the whole concept to Michael's parents.

Anyway, the bottom line here is that I am really-really happy. That's what you all really-really want for me, right?