Laminating and Other Joys

After an uneventful day of driving all over the county to deliver ATV trail maps, I came back to the office with one plan: lamination. There is something about laminating things that feels so... Permanent. So successful. When one uses the laminator properly. I formulated a list in my mind of all if the things I could laminate. Many things. Things that never knew they needed to be laminated. In the office we have three laminators. A teeny tiny ID card sized one, a medium regular paper sized one, and a monster map laminator that would take up the entire free corner in my bedroom. I like them all. Unfortunately, my laminating hopes were dashed when I couldn't find the sleeves for the medium sized laminator, I only had one ID card to laminate and nothing on my lamination list justified warming up the giant laminator and wasting 12 inches of plastic on either side of my page. So I have to content my self with writing, since other than taking hours of unnecessary training online, it is the only other thing I can think to do.

It's been a hard week. I've been in a lot of pain, and whether that's because we went traipsing across the world to visit mom and dad last weekend, or because I was grooming on an ATV in the cold wind and whooped out trails ("whoop" is a technical term for a dip-and-swell series of large potholes in a trail, for all you non-OHVers), or because I'm coming off of the depo shot and my body has NO idea what it's supposed to be doing now other than causing agonizing pain, I have no idea. But it sucks.

I think if I keep messing with it enough maybe my body will give up and retreat into early menopause, which I've been told is the only cure for Adnomyosis, short of hysterectomy. Of course menopause brings with it a whole new set of issues, which at present, I don't (and Josh DEFINITELY doesn't) want to deal with. All though I can't imagine the mood swings being any worse than they are now. The thought reduces josh to tears. Poor guy. He's put up with a lot. Of course in my present condition I'd like to imagine I am the one enduring abuse and suffering, but if I assume that I am no more rational now than I was the other night when I contemplated stabbing myself in the ovary to force the doctors to operate on me and figure out what's wrong, then I realize that reality is usually 180 degrees from my perspective at any given moment. So I repeat: poor Josh.

I realize that I really obliterate conciseness when I write. My sentences seem to never end. I would apologize, but I don't really see the point since I have every intention of continuing in my transgression.

I guess since I'm still getting paid right now I should go see if I can find something really big to laminate.

My surgery is 6 days away. Em says I should be basking in the blissful hope that everything will be better after it. I feel like I don't dare to hope for that much, but maybe. Just maybe.

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LOVE,

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Sick Day

Today I woke up in pain. A lot of pain. Whether it was from digging 8 post holes or pounding 10 carsonite posts into the ground, or hiking around in 38 lbs of clothes to try to stay warm in the snow, or something else, I don't know. But I grudgingly rolled myself out of bed, stuffed my aching body into the first clothes I could find on the floor, put on my most comfortable running shoes that I have fantasies about running in, loaded up my coffee cup and my yogurt and headed to work. I was thinking it would get better, or even if it didn't I would just be sitting in the office publishing the newsletter, which allows for a certain level of simultaneous suffering. Instead, my temporary "supervisor" informed me I was going back out into the cold and snow, for a fun filled day of more sign building and even some trail blazing. "don't forget your saw!".

Here's the thing: I have a cool job. My job involves riding 4 wheelers (and maybe dirt bikes eventually) on some amazing trails in some of the most beautiful forest in the country. It involves building new trails, hacking limbs off of trees, pulling, cutting, digging brush, rolling logs and rocks out of the way, then spinning the tires on the quads all along the new trail to "burn it in". Who wouldn't want my job? How cool to be paid to hike, get dirty, ride ATVs and originate trail systems that will be ridden for many generations. It's an awesome job. As I sat there this morning, contemplating the pain in my lower left gut, the feeling of a serrated knife sawing slowly in a hot circle around my left ovary, I thought about hitching up a 2000 lb trailer, loading and unloading quads, lifting 70 lb (no exaggerating) steel ramps twice for each four wheeler. I'm supposed to have a 25lb limitation because of my rotator cuff injury, but far be it from me the "whimp out" or be the weak one. I thought about shoveling two feet into the rocky, frozen ground for each post, and using my burning abdomen to stabilize myself riding barely imagined trails. Ideas in the dirt and brush really. It all hurt too much. I told my "supervisor" I couldn't do it. I was sick. How do I explain to a 28 year old, micro managing, overhead ass-kissing, two faced, power hungry punk that I can't do my job because some unseen part of my female anatomy is KILLING me, and each rock that the quad crawls over feeds the hungry pain to make it stronger. All he hears from me is: "I'm sick. I can't. I'll try tomorrow." And he heaves a sigh about the mistake of hiring some old broken girl who can't keep up. Or I imagine he does. I leave with my chin up, but tears sneaking out of the corner of my eyes. I can count the number of times I've called in sick, for really being sick, on one hand. It's shameful for me. Its painful. It hurts my pride. To be weak and useless. To admit that I CAN'T do something.

The thing is, I could've. Normally, I would have. But somehow, today, I was tired. I was at the end of my ego. The bottom of my desperation to be a vital asset of the Combined Off Highway Vehicle Operations team. I guess I was over it.

Now I'm sitting on my couch. I'm still in pain. I have the fire on (don't tell josh), my heated blanket and my hound dog. My computer can't talk to the Internet for some reason, so my plans for productivity and completing gobs of homework are more or less shot. I made crisp out of the almost too far gone pears. I made granola to mix with the yogurt that I eat every day (BTW - I really think eating a dose of Greek yogurt every day is helping me feel better, less hungry, cleaner. Highly recommend). I wrote a statement for the hospital application for assistance with our oppressive ER bills from December when we racked up $8000 in debt to find out exactly NOTHING. I got my Oregon State EMT application almost put together. I guess I haven't been totally useless. But there's always this afternoon. I feel a nap and a Bones marathon creeping up like a cocker spaniel inching her way to a corner of a heated blanket.

I love that the sun is out. I am glad I overcame my pride and came home. Maybe I'll never go back.

But probably I will.

Because I Can

Gaining Ground?

I feel a little more solid today - whether that is the sunshine and warm weather, the visit from Mom and Dad, the new TV :), or the fact that the stupid Depo shot might be wearing off, I am not sure, but I will take it. The pain is no better, but when I can be friendly and cheerful, even to Josh, in spite of the pain, I know I am doing better. Some days just the thought of smiling has turned my stomach. Of course, some of it has to do with the effort he is putting in to loving me and being unconditionally tolerant and non-reactive. Which he probably deserves a medal for.

I started back into my silly little weight routine, mostly because I can feel my bad shoulder (rotator cuff injury) getting weak again and I can't afford to let it slip. The core exercises make the pain intensify, but so does going to the grocery store, so I feel like it's a trade off I need to make. I really need to get back into yoga again, I think I felt better all over when I was going regularly, even though finding the time and energy to get there is kind of a big deal these days.

I shipped MacKenzie (the 9th grader) off with my parents to spend a few months with my sister, where hopefully she will be able to stay out of trouble. I am hoping that not dealing with the daily drama of her escapades will open up more time and peace to give to the other kids and alleviate a little of the household stress. We will miss her though. I already do. Especially when I realize how much more cooking I will have to do. She really is my right hand. Halle is more like my big toe. Useful and necessary I suppose, but not in any noticeable way.

Today I don't work, but I do have a big presentation that is due for school. Nothing I hate worse than talking in front of a camera to NoOne. But once I get it over with I only have one more to dread and then I will be ALL DONE WITH SCHOOL. Except for the blasted business plan. Drat.

I dressed emmy up in Aspen's sock monkey shirt, because I thought it would be funny. It was. Little things like this would never have even occurred to me a week ago, much less made me smile. I'll take that as improvement.