Gynecologists and the Negative Ninny

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Please be advised due to my current medical condition Doctors have informed me that I'm incapable of coping skills and prone to Hormonal Challenges (HC) - that's moodiness hijacked by ninjas on hormone deficient cognitive reasoning. Please take all things with a pinch of salt. Know I do NOT mean anything said as an attack simply an explanation. I want/need your opinions, your support and your understanding. Thank You!

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Let's begin today with an explanation of why I do not like gynecologists. Fact is it will never matter if the Doctor is good or not, this experience is TORTURE even when I do not have problems.

1. The speculum - is not comfortable in truth it hurts me so badly I cry the entire time. I have tried balling my fists and placing them under my lower back to lessen the pain and tilting my pelvis to various angles, as well as taking mild mood soothing herbs and Tylenol before an appointment all to no avail. I also ALWAYS get pinched. This pain may or may NOT be associated with the scar tissue created when I contracted chlamydia at the age of 17 (bad boyfriend for screwing around bad me for not making him use a condom).

2. The Pap smear - While I know this is a q-tip and Doctors of varying gentleness have done this it still feels like razor blades.

3. Abnormal Cells - After each and every time I gave birth the Doctor would inform me that I had abnormal cells and that they needed to do a biopsy to rule out Cervical Cancer. The biopsy always came back clean or upon retesting 6 months later miraculously gone. I know this is preventative and caught early could save my life but I think after it happening 3 times each time after birth having the EXACT same problem I think I know what I'm talking about when I tell them it will rectify itself. The last ass I encountered about this refused to first retest properly (6 months instead of 6 weeks you dim wit) so he decided I needed a LEEP (cork sized biopsy from the cervix) I let him do what he thought was necessary only because this is what it took to get him to agree to give me the Tubal I wanted. Thanks to that I now have a shallow vagina and pressure pain I've learned to deal with during sex.

4. Cancer - NOT everyone has it and NOT everything causes it. This word stresses me out and no matter how many times I tell a Doctor to not use it unless tests PROVE I have it they will not be sensitive to my feelings. One time under direct orders in my file a Doctor had notated that it would danger the fetus to stress me out so therefore talking about an amniocentisis or the results of any birth defects testing, and any mention of cancer whatsoever with me would be stressful and detremental to my health. What happened was the on call Doctor obviously could not read and did just that. Harassing me at home with phone calls trying to convince me that this was something I HAD to do. It did not matter that everytime I said no and asked her to stop. I ended up bed bound for 2 weeks over this.

5. Emotionally/Mentally - I can and do have the ability to wrap my head around a great deal of pain. I am aware they ARE trying to help me! However I still go home from an appointment feeling violated - this may be a psychological throw back from being molested by my Uncle at 5 and raped by my brother at 12. I can't be positive about anyone I really am not in love with touching anything private. My skin tries to vacate my body every time I get a breast exam. It's not the Doctors fault I realize this and say nothing to them but am a basket case for the rest of the day.

6. Psychiatrist - been there done that didn't change a damn thing! I feel how I feel.

I'm not saying ALL Gynecologists are bad I am saying since I do not have a medical degree they do not listen because they think I am stupid and stubborn. Be that as it may I wear my body for 24/7 for the last 35 years. I am intelligent and will seek information on that which I do not understand or know and WILL consult a professional because I do NOT profess that I am smater than they are.

It isn't even just Gynecoligists every single Doctor I have ever seen has at one point in time accused me of stupity with this phrase "How can you possibly know you have ________? (fill in the blank) Are you a Doctor?"

1. I didn't say I KNOW anything I said I SUSPECT this is my problem.
2. If I KNEW what it was what the hell would I be doing in your office?
3. Just because I am from back woods Missouri and speak with an accent does NOT mean I am an idiot.

I accept that all of the aforementioned may be an example of pessimism on my part and stubborness to boot but again this is how I feel. I really try to make extreme efforts to not allow this to control my ability to remain healthy. I am sorry TRY is all I can promise. I am open to suggestions on how to control this if it should seem irrational to anyone.



Tomorrow I'll delve into the Fibroids and why I waited so long to deal with those.

Pardon My Patients

FAIR WARNING: Post IS 4 fucking pages long in Word!

So okay if you have been around long enough you know that I am fairly inconsistent with my entries and that when something major is going on with me I return to blogging. The simple truth of the matter is when I come back it is because I am tired of inflicting my whoas on my loved ones but still require room to think and share. My personality type does not allow for bottling up my feelings. I saw what holding things inside did to my mother and I refuse to allow the truth to fester inside my soul like a malignant spore.

What I am about to talk about seems to be woman’s dirty little secret, there is not much in the way of personal example on the subject only very clinical factoids. I believe that my experiences in life (all aspects) when shared can help others. Even if the example is what not to do, if you learn something then my life purpose has been fulfilled.

In April I began to have a myriad of symptoms.

• After dinner I would sweat until my shirt was soaked.
• Getting tired at 2 in the afternoon and having trouble staying awake past 6 p.m.
• The ability to prioritize/organize my usual tasks at work disappeared entirely.
• Mood swings with no discernable pattern or reason.
• My insomnia got so bad at one point I had, had 5 hours of sleep in 10 days. (I know this symptom is the polar opposite of another but it happened.)
• Having to pee every half hour.
• My breasts actually feel like they are growing but are not changing size.
• Heartburn even when drinking water.
• Everything tasting like cardboard.
• Pain in the general region of kidneys and just above pubic bone.
• Pain during intercourse.

And the symptom after the 4th time that I simply could not ignore: Bleeding after intercourse (and I mean enough to soak a very plush very large bathing towel).

I imagine the first conclusion you are imagining is Pregnancy let me dispel that one right away – my tubal ligation(TL) (READ: Fixed – no more puppies for this bitch) was in September 2000.

About this time my mother had been hospitalized for EXTREMELY high blood sugar (204) that’s enough to damage her heart, plus an ear infection plus pneumonia. My family is a tad large and therefore all in the high risk category for diabetes. I had noticed that my low moods and fatigue would disappear after I ate so I assumed I was having precursory symptoms to diabetes and that the head/body aches and inability to concentrate were the onset of a sinus cold. Perhaps in hind sight I was grasping at whatever was closest for the moment.

Now for the bloody matters – well I honestly believed I was miscalculating my periods either thinking they were done when in fact they weren’t or that I was starting early (SEE: lack of concentration) . The pain of sex only happened once and was not followed by a blood bath so I thought we were simply in the wrong position and had irritated something. The next week we went to have a friend who happens to be an accountant look over our taxes. His wife is a Homeopathic Nurse and me; ever the worrier excused myself to her office while the boys perused the numbers. The first thing she said was perimenopause.

Quoted from Wikipedia if a little altered for flow (pardon the pun): “Perimenopause is the term describing the menopause transition years, in women who have a uterus, the years both before and after the final period.”

I was mildly alarmed because woman + menopause = dirty word. No one had ever talked to me about it nor had I bothered to ask. Okay here comes your second concern – I am not to young to be entering this stage of life (35) especially if genetics has anything to do with it because guess what? I first made an appointment with my Doctor and second called my mother. To which she nonchalantly went into a giggling fit about her extreme long periods and many fibroids that lead to her hysterectomy at the age of you guessed it thirty-fuckin’-five!!! I was 8 and have no recollection of my life before 11, sorry I just don’t remember anything before that. And here she’d just said another word I’d heard before FIBROIDS.

Fibroids are benign tumors which grow from the muscle layers of the uterus, they often do not require treatment but when they are problematic, they may be treated surgically (hysterectomy, hormonal therapy, a myomectomy, or uterine artery embolization) or with medication. About 2 years ago while working a night shift I damn near fainted, had extreme abdominal pain and soaked with sweat like I’d just gotten out of a very nasty shower. That ER experience is one of the reasons I stopped visiting the gynecologist.


You just made that hissing sound I heard you!


I know not going for your yearly visit is like tattooing cervical cancer on your death sentence dead girl walking slip but I HATE the “C” word. I’m not going to get into that just now. Don’t judge - just read!!!

I went to the family doc – standard blood work, listen to my breath look in my Ear Nose Throat (ENT). Wait one week for test results.

Go in for test results – it ain’t diabetes! WOW really? Surprised I be! I lay on the table, he feels my tummy and goes (I kid you not) “WHOA! If I didn’t know better I’d say,” as he runs his hand from pelvis to sternum,”That’s about 18 weeks.” This is a man of very few words and no emotion whatsoever. So I’m a little nervous as you can imagine.

I fucking snorted, rolled my eyes and laughed right in his face, “That’s not even remotely possible.” And proceed to tell the Doc about said TL. I couldn’t get that damn “P” word outta my head so I raced home and pissed on a stick just to be sure. (There is another ridiculously funny story there for another time.)

The following week he schedules an ultra-sound + transvaginal. Gggaaaahhhh!!!! SO I wait a week and have the test this sucks on so many levels - 5 bottles of water an hour before the appointment + pelvis pain and a stick jammed into your cookie jar = I hate being a girl! Wait another week for the results.

Results = buttkissangel. We think it’s a fibroid it looks like one but doesn’t act like one and we can’t see your ovaries but it’s a mass about 4 inches by 6 inches. We need to rule out…say it with me…Cancer, suggest MRI.

So the bad family doctor can’t order an MRI he has to refer me to a specialist (READ: Gyne-fuckin-cologist) please wait 2 weeks, no sex, and extra pain from the stress. Yes, the more stressed I am the more it hurts. Wrap your noodle around this I am a stomach sleeper!

Meet with the Gyno who first told me it was a fibroid (2 years earlier), get lecture, pap, blood work and wait for MRI appointment. You’ll love this. The first appointment they could schedule…

August fucking 7th.


By this time I can not get my man to hug me or kiss me because he might hurt me and I am sleeping in the living room because our bed is unforgiving to the now bloated stomach. My mood roller coaster is about to come off the rails because I feel like I am all alone and repulsive to boot. I can no longer work out it hurts to lift my leg, I don’t have the energy and I’ve started fucking up at work so badly I almost got fired! What’s worse is the insomnia is keeping me up so late I have to take the night shifts so I’m not getting to see Dash at all. Which is probably a good thing. I think the moodiness was getting to him even if he understood the hormones were in control and not me. Wee-haw aren’t we having some fun now!

That brings us to June 3rd - I was awakened bright and fantastically early given above problems to a call from the Hospital "We have a cancellation can you be here in an hour?" YEEEEEEEESSSSSSS!!! The MRI was fun especially with a head cold (another story, another time.) I know, I know but this story is hugely long. Sorry.

Doc Torture…err Gyno goes on fucking vacation whilst we await the supposedly 2 weeks it takes for the results to appear. On the 10th that little head cold is full blown sinus infection and I can’t stand because my equilibrium is shot. I actually booked an appointment with Dr. Family Fuck-up for the head case.

Low and behold I arrive to see the MRI written in Latin or some other dead fuckin’ language stapled to the front of my file and my head miraculously clears. I totally fucking forgot they asked if I wanted him copied on the results. I said,"Sure good to have all your eggs in one basket." (Teehee) He writes a scrip for antibiotics to clear up my sinus infection and precedes to read those damn results 5 fucking times before he will tell me anything muttering obscenities all the while at the page likes it’s a moron or something. The little bit I got out of him he didn’t want to divulge saying I had to talk to Dr. Torture.

So his version goes something like this: “Endometriosis (his description I swear) – when the uterine lining gets outside the uterine cavity for whatever reason. Yours has attached itself to your fallopian tube and it’s filling it with blood. My guess is she’ll (Dr. Torture) want to take it out.”

Take what out the fallopian tube, the uterus, all of it (Please god by all that is holy!!!)? This is where he decides the clam is dirty enough without his mucking about in it and I can pry nothing further from his educated non-bedside having manner.

So I managed to get Dash to book off so he can go to the appointment on the 17th to see Dr. Torture when she gives me all the big words and the judgment of the surgical court.


. . . W a i t f o r it . . .

On the 16th (can you guess I bet you can) the fucking twit receptionist with a manly mustache calls to move my appointment time on the 24th from the morning to the afternoon. WAIT A DAMN MINUTE! I have an appointment tomorrow. No she says its next week. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!! We don’t even have the results yet it’s too soon. Uhm, pardon me ma’am but Dr. Scrooge has them why the hell don’t you? I don’t know but your appointment is on the 24th.


AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!


And that folks believe it or not is the funny parts. It’s not even the whole damn story but its 4 damn pages long and this is a mother of an update. I want, no I need very much to tell you about the emotional side because it’s the part I can NOT, will NOT live with!

Blubell

So we're on our way back from the Doctor's office and I'm doing these calculations ~ round-trip cab cost $24 x 20 days to heal = $480 - $ 875 (6 month average monthly income) = $ 395 and all I get for over half of my paycheck is irritation 'cause cabbies can't drive.

MADNESS I tell ya!!!

About that time Dash is driving past a used car lot we have talked about stopping into and I look over at him totally deflated and say,"Do you realize the cost of a cab for the remainder of the month is a car payment?"

And I see the wheels creaking to a screeching halt in his head as he tries to rectify our current credit score with the possibility that I will be spending more than we can afford to burn on cabs. Sort of dumbfounded he asks beseeching me not to say yes,"Do you want to stop at the car dealership?"

Up to this point we've been volleying the pros and cons of buying me a car for 9 months and the numbers won't mesh no matter how hard we try. Of course those puppy eyes and the reality that has always been my luck seep out into my words,"No."

We don't even make it half a block and I can't take one more second of this shit. We work so hard for so little pay and then it's one more thing dragging us down. But it's ALWAYS one more fucking thing!!! I look him dead in the face,"Turn around."

He does and I can feel us both putting on our armor, you know the thick skinned kind that's prepared to hear "NO" for the billionth time.

As we park a salesman is walking out with 2 customers and we're doing our best not to look poor. I have to wonder to seasoned salesman if this facade ever works? He zeros in on us, turns out to be a good-natured guy, gives us room to look, not to pushy asking all the right questions and side-stepping the obviousness of our situation.

Sits us down, runs the numbers and asks if we want to run it past the bank?

I don't know if you've ever had those moments when you have to worry about ONE more inquiry on your credit history or not but it sort of feels like someone decided to park a boat on your face.

I look at Dash. Dash looks at me and we silently are gearing up for the "can we think about it" escape speech when Mr. Calzone senses the fish wiggling for all it's worth on the hook he says,"You have some concerns."

He leans back in his chair steeples his fingers together gets up from his chair holds up one finger and leaves us in his office. I'm sure both of us felt like a deer in headlights - where did he go - 10 minutes passes he's still not back, we're uncomfortable and wanting to run. I can feel our tension like lightening in a thunderhead building. When he returns he's smiling.

Not only did he get a bank to agree to our chosen car and price without checking our credit but also a cash back bonus. Enough to pay off 2 of our high interest rate credit cards for half the APR and do a little necessity shopping. The money that freed up made it possible to make the car and insurance payment.

PLUS! Yes I said plus, there's more - this bank specializes in people like us struggling to rebuild our credit history by doing all the right things and seemingly getting no where, IF after a year all our payments are ON TIME they will offer us a personal line of credit no questions asked!!!

I swear the tide just shifted, I'm numb of course we agreed and we are now 3 short months away from that 1 year line.

Let me tell you about the car and then I will connect the spooky dots for you, m'kay? Good. It was a Blue 2008 Dodge Avenger that had been used as a day rental with 24561 km.

Now for the Spooky - It took 2 days to file all the proper paperwork for pick-up and while we anxiously awaited word from Mr. Calzone when it would be ready I began trying to decide on the cars' name. I know some people think this is silly but it is a tradition handed down from my father all Dodge vehicles in our family must have names starting with the letter "B".

So I settled on Blubell because of the color. When we went to pick up the car we learned that Mr. Calzone was not in fact a salesman but none other than the sales manager and owner of the dealership! He does not broker deals hasn't for 5+ years he's to busy normally, we just happened to catch him as he was escorting out some customers from years past that dropped in to say hello.

The plate that we did not order personalized had part of the name I had chosen on it. So had I not had my accident we would never have been going to the doctor on that day, had I not told Dash to keep driving that extra 1/2 block we wouldn't have gotten Mr. Calzone and I still can't explain the plate.

So many good things have happened since I hurt my knee it just amazes me. Looking back at it hind sight being what it is (20/20) I really believe I had to get hurt in order for the good things to come.

Sometimes even when you're down fate smiles.

Much Ado

My last post was 4 days before I took a header off my bicycle (no I wasn't wearing a helmet).

I may not have mentioned that I had been riding my bike or walking to work (during inclimate weather - read fucking BLIZZARDS) since I got the job back in November of '07. Mind you that work is only 4.5 km (2.75 miles) from home and took 20 minutes by bike on days without snow drifts.

Snow drifts = evil fucking city doesn't clear the side walks because sane people don't use them when it snows! On those days depending on the depth of said snow drift (with the added pleasure of heaping snow on the sidewalk from plowing the roads) it could take anywhere from 1.5 hours to 3 hours to walk there. And yes I did this 3 times that first year.

I'm sure you're sitting there wondering why I would do such a thing. Well techniclly the city I live in and the city I work in are 2 different cities and the line ends abruptly in the middle of a very steep "V" shaped bridge therefore the bus from my home city to my work city does not run across said line. A cab would cost me $12 one way (here's another pickle for you - the cab company from my home city will drop me off in my work city but will not pick me up there!)

Now I make a petty sum and my shifts run anywhere from 4 hours to 8 hours normally, it would take me 3 hours of work to make the round trip cab fair (you do the math). It really wasn't that bad even during the blizzards, I only cried during the last half hour of the last one.

Any-who back to my accident. I had just left work for the day a Sunday no less on the weekend Dash is away so he's just started his 4 hour trek back from Ottawa at the same time I head home. It was of him I was thinking as I got to the verge of that steep "V" shaped hill, crossing the last residential street for the next 10 minutes. The sidewalk that takes up on the other side has a nice 90 degree curve before the hill actually begins, on a busy thoroughfare.

The front tire goes off the sidewalk into the grass and along the curb, my body continues on a straight if airborne line. I'm not clear on the blow-by-blow but I think the back tire kicked up behind me launching my flight. What I do remember is that I became entangled in the bike at some point before stopping my forward momentum with my face. When I try to reconcile the physics with the aftermath I still don't understand how I ended up with the injury that debilitated me.

I felt my nose go up towards my forehead and my lip go down towards my chin and feeling the sand paper like cement along my right eye. The same sensation traveling through both palms of my hands and the pressure of my weight upon my knees. Eyes closed I begin to take stock in my mind of possible breaks and hurts, but I really can't feel much - adrenaline is a curious thing.

I start thinking about getting up slowly and it felt...

...you won't believe and I doubt I'll do it justice with words but ...

...it felt like my soul got up a full 10 seconds before the rest of me, like I was standing there with my hands on my knees looking at my body and yet unable to see it because I was standing there not laying there. Without actually feeling it my body did what my soul had done 10 seconds before. I remember thinking "I know I hit my head but it wasn't a solid blow and nothing hard enough to kill me so I'm not dead".

Once I'm up I start to notice that 2 vehicles have pulled over and 3 women have spewed out onto the roadside. I believe they were asking after my well-being but it was strangely silent, even the passing cars made no shoosh as they drove on by. I'm to busy taking inventory once more and still feeling nothing as I watch blood drip off my face and onto the sidewalk. I was sort of transfixed by those droplets and the pattern they made as they splattered to earth. And noticing that before I got up my head was even with the curb. Another 5 feet and I'd have been in traffic.

I remember telling the nice blonde lady that it looked worse than it felt while the other 2 women got Kleenex out of their car and one of them handing me a phone. Having left my own at home that day. The one day I forgot it, stupid how shit always seems to happen like that. I don't need my phone often nor use it often but the one time you need it you don't have it.

These women are asking if I need a ride to the hospital and I'm picking up the blasted bike and telling them I think I'll just walk home. That must not have been the case though because I hand the bike to the blonde lady who puts it in her jeep and I got into the passenger side and start to laugh.

Mumbling alll the way home and thanking her for her kindness. The blonde lady telling me her frantic story about having to drive to far until she could turn around because of the recently installed median. Saying she's scared because it'll take to long and I start to wonder how bad this little accident really looked because to tell by her voice and nervousness she thought I was dead or dying while she tried to get back to me.

In this day where most people are happily self-centered and willfully blind it is nice to know that there are still kind people in the world!

So I put the bike away, climb the stairs to the couch and lie down because the shakes have started. My daughter bless her has climbed the rest of the stairs and come back with alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, q-tips and band-aids and is cleaning me up (she's 13). Amazing creature I don't think I had a lot to do with the absolute wonderfulness that is my little Ladybug, but I love her! I lie there for an hour and the pain that wasn't has become mild throbbing, so I decide I'm hungry and get up to make it and something gives in my right knee. It felt like a fracture losing it's tenuous hold.

The pain is agonizing so I try to do that mind over matter thing as I watch (and this is no exaggeration) my knee slowly bloom into a cantaloupe sized ball just off to the left of the knee cap. I'm groaning and crying, my dad calls and is talking to my daughter who begin to joke that I'm being dramatic and causing my own pain while I search in vain for a position that doesn't hurt. At this point I deign it necessary to call Dash and request he hurry along. I don't know how he did it but he made a 3 hour trip into 1.5 hours.

I managed to find the place with no pain once we make it to the ER the Triage nurse asks me on a scale of 1 - 10 how bad the pain is and when I say zero she calls me a liar. This after giving me a lecture on the example I'm setting for my daughter by not wearing a helmet and it's always the second question everyone asks when I tell this story the first being, was a riding a motorcycle or a a bicycle?

I've come to believe the X-ray room was devised as a torture chamber for anyone stupid enough to be doing anything that might break a bone. Nothing broken so they wrap it and prescribe percocet for the pain. I'm happy and scared all at the same time, knee injuries are serious business aside from the fact that the Doc says no work for 2 weeks. This is a big problem in more ways than one - money first and at the time I was the only one with open availability so the boss had no one to cover and I'm blubbering about how I'm going to fix that, while my 2 dearly loved ones keep telling me now is not the time to think of others. Might as well ask me not to breath.

I spent the next 10 day sleeping on a mattress on my living room floor which was central to the bathroom, kitchen and TV. High on percs and bored as hell, daytime TV sucks. There are 4 staircases in my townhouse and I couldn't possibly negotiate those.

I did manage to go back to work after that but there were certain things I couldn't do and some I had to do sitting on the floor. After 4 days I went to see my family doctor who informed me that the Bursa (bag of fluid behind the knee) was filled with blood and he could A.) stick a needle in it and drain the fluid - which if not wrapped tightly and always for the next 30 days refill or B.) leave it alone and let it reabsorb naturally.

What kind of choices are these? I opted for natural and he prescribed more percs. How do people work on these? I put those on my nightstand and took Tylenol 1 with codine to get through the day and the percs so I could sleep. I am a stomach sleeper so imagine not being able to do that.

Now came the new problem - I can't ride my bike because my knee is sort of stuck at a 90 degree angle if I want no pain and a cab will cost $24 round trip everyday for 20 day that's @ $480 almost more than the measly bi-weekly paycheck.

Pictures to frighten and amaze - these were taken after the 10 days

And that would be the beginning of story 2 - Blubell

Summer Shimmy

WOW! Long time no update.

Let's start at the vacation that wasn't...
...or was it?

Week 1 ~ Trek southerly to the States and do the Summer Shimmy Shake. Which amounts to details left to last minute (in some cases the last 90 minutes) on who~picking~up~who
~where~when? Followed by the Rhomba of go here and see so~and~so and go there and do such~and~such. I felt like a pie, everbody wants a piece. This equals 20 hours of sleep across 7 days.

Week 2, 3 & 4 ~ Pretend to be a work~a~holic in the mad dash for college students last~chance~to~get~away olympics. McG had transferred entirely into our store and could now focus his efforts. So Lexar could get trained for Shift Leader. YEAH! Oh and I was named Employee of the Quater. Woot Woot!!!

The 20 something drama production had slowed to almost an uneasy stalemate. No musical outbursts or complex dance numbers thank goodness!

Week 5 ~ Return to the land of Choaticus (read USA). The pick up of Ladybug for me was not as bad but I hear tell those involved did have a bit of a square dance. The running hither and yon had dropped down to every other day and I slept so comfortably we even skipped a venue.

All of August had been spent in the recovery ($$), leave it to kismet to decide things is to quiet. The drama Queen extremist (DQE from here on out) lost it all over Lexar. Just when I had everyone convinced that they needed to deal with things in a mature manner and peacefully co-exist. I have to say based on the stories I was hearing that I felt betrayed, annoyed and fed-up.

To be fair the stories I was hearing were one sided and I have always believed there are 3 sides to every story but the DQE is not the type of person you can try to connect with in an attempt at getting near the truth so I didn't even bother.

Then one morning she had a faux pas much to the dismay of my rapidly fraying nerves and I finally said things I felt as opposed to maintaining my professionalism. From that was born a mild understanding, no personal conversation only courteously requested work-related professionalism.

She let the things I said both constructive and opinionated (although tempered with career politicing professionalism) percolate for a week and then politely asked me for qualifications against my criticisms. She took it with mild unease and great poise. There may even have been a bit of reaching out on her part and an understanding of some things she was not aware of in the break down of the command structure.

While I am without title, rank and salary I am expected to perform at a certain level and do things outside of my station in order to prove my worth for promotion as from day one of my hiring I have made no secret of my aspiration to management. Personally I have always strived for my own betterment and periodically take stock of that in which I am lacking and pull my performance tighter.

At any rate it would seem the last person on the team I thought might follow my lead, may indeed see my opinions and duties as adequate to the tasks I have undertaken.

The last week before school started was fraught with last minute book-offs leading to double-shifts and the desire for a much earned raise...which happily may not be that far in the future. Lexar has finished her training manuals and I have been presented with MINE. Let the Shift Leader training begin!!!

In other news...

* Ladybug has been signed with a modeling agency and shall be having her head shots taken next weekend.

* Dashes' 2 possible promotions have gone the way of the Doh-doo. :(

* We are again trying to buy me a car. Lots of tears and much gnashing of teeth.

It's not as stressful as it might sound but I sure am tired form all the cha-chaing required for the Summer Shimmy...hopefully things mellow for a bit before the Holiday Hustle begins!

Dramatize Me

I tried to quit smoking again made it 2 weeks before I wanted to tear my own head off because I was a raging bitch. My chemistry simply will not allow me to be smoke free, I am a demon possessed and I don't like who I become. You can sit there in your far away judgment and sigh shaking your head all the while thinking this is just an excuse but I think those near and dear to me would disagree with you.

The dynamic at work had sort of taken on a rhythm. Lexar and I unfortunately do not get to see each other much anymore because if truth be told we together are covering the AM position and therefore trade off duties. McG had started to concentrate his efforts on the other store and quickly realized how valuable Lex and I are to him when we both got sick for a week (at the same time).

And of my 8 peers at work it had become apparent that 5 of them have taken to differing to my judgment. So even though I lack the title they have turned little by little to seeing me as a figurehead. McG seemed to notice this one evening when roused from my bed at midnight I sprang into action. He actually thanked me not once but twice. That's a first and about damn skippy time too.

As for mini dramas at work - well let's say it's a full on production now and that run away train can't be stopped and the fall out isn't going to be pretty.

Should I even bother to mention that last week I filed my first official work-related police report? I suppose it's note worthy. Flagrantly hostile customer refusing to leaving premises and verbally abusive to 3 representatives even though we tried to help her. Come to find out she is well known by the cops and not in a friendly way.

Dash still isn't sleeping and even more mired in Promotion Limbo Hell. This causes relationship issues, primarily in the sex department. I have to say though I'm not exactly in the mood these days myself.

I feel sort of lost and the only message that seems to be recurring right now is ~ Somethings once said can never be taken back, no matter how sorry you are, how misunderstood the statement might have been or even how innocently a joke might have been said.

Not Dead Yet

Okie-dokey then. Well first I'll say the psycho thing is attributed to 2 things. I had quit smoking which lead me to nit pick every damn thing so I started smoking again, gonna try to quit again in about 2 days....sigh. And two, my SAD was severe this year due to the weather.

The transition at RCI was difficult and the dust still hasn't settled thus my lack of update. Still have the restructure (possibly non-permanent) manager - McG.

I don't have the faintest idea where to begin to explain all of this. The loss of Sass's organizational skills became quickly apparent so Lexar and I began the tremendously tedious job of trying to baton down the hatches. By Easter with little-to-no idea of what I was doing I blew a gasket all over one impossible to please customer. During that week I had also managed to piss off one co-worker and alienate Orb. It seemed everyday I was making one enormous mistake after another.

It turns out that I had been putting to much pressure on myself to do things that weren't in my job description and sadly this is a 2 month cycle for me.

McG's managerial style and my own control freak personality are clashing even if only in my own mind. He is currently managing 2 stores one without an AM and I understand how easily this could stress him out or cause him to be forgetful, hell I can't even TRY to imagine running just one so I've tried to be understanding.

I've saddled myself with certain responsibilities and am currently trying to learn how to delegate certain tasks and share things. The problem with sharing those things I have taken as my own is that McG has come to rely on my doing these things (even if he won't admit it) so if I hand them off and they aren't done correctly who do you presume he turns the blame on? Right-O, little old frustrated me.

McG has a real need for now results which can be somewhat unorganized and I prefer to take things in a little more of a organized manner and do them right the first time, which granted takes a bit longer but reduces mistakes. It often feels like he is disappointed in everything I do and I assume he lays the blame with me (although I've been told he's just super tense about loss-prevention and it's nothing personal).

It really boils down to I haven't the proper training to do all that I do and am often blind-sided by some incoming phone call of something that needs doing right now when he's not around to consult. So I have to muddle through it and learn the hard way. I've asked for the training but it is slow in the coming especially since half of his time is spent elsewhere and part of me believes he has no faith in my abilities. I guess we'll see at what is supposed to be my 6 month review on the 10th.

Doesn't read half as bad as it feels especially since I glossed over the finer details of mini-dramas among the College Set. I am over-worked, under-paid and under-appreciated I guess that's normal and we all hate it but for the love of goodness I feel like I'm suffocating.

In other frustrations, Dash had been offered not one but two promotions - Security consulting for the firm he currently works for and Property Administrator for the company he works under. He went for an interview for the Consulting gig and they told him he had it in the bag but they had to wait for Accounting to arrange for the position through the Budgeting committee. This position would include quite the salary hike plus a clothing allowance and either a company car or a car allowance. This tickled the hell out of us both.

Dash because it validated his worth being offered 2 positions. He decided not to go with the Property Admin since it would mean to much time behind a desk pushing paper. And I was excited because either way we decided to go with the car issue it would me I would no longer be riding my bike the 4.5 kilometers to work.

Alas here we are a month later with no word on his start date and $2500 worth of repair work needing done on our current vehicle.

Can you spell S-T-R-E-S-S! That's on both of us. I can't get promoted because I'm to new and the trainer has split responsibilities and Dash is waiting.

Hello Limbo, sometimes I think Limbo is so much worse than hell could ever be. I DO NOT wait well!!!