I Can’t Do That Again.

I remember being really confused; getting up off of the couch to go lie down even though I had been lying down on said couch, wandering around looking for my bed even though it hadn’t been moved, the top part of my heart refusing to beat enough while the bottom of my heart raced, pouring sweat. I must have passed out because the next thing I knew my husband was waking me up, seems I had finally made it into bed at some point. This was last night.

I saw my neurologist the today, made an emergency appointment. The only thing that had changed recently were the meds she put me on for the fibromyalgia back in September, meds that had been helping a lot. I mean, a lot. I explained what I remembered to the nurse. My doctor spent an hour looking at what must have been my previous test results before seeing me. Then I explained it again to her. She gave me a referral to go see my cardiologist again and get another heart monitor put on, not sure for how long, I’d have to look at the request again. She’s sending me to be thorough. What she really thinks happened was a seizure.

Turns out my initial brain wave study, whatever they call it, had some abnormal waves in it but since I didn’t express having any issues when she questioned me (very intensely) during the follow up for that test she dropped it. Now, she is pretty sure there is a problem. I had felt better when my husband woke me up, so I had waited to go in… she told me never to wait again. “If this happens again go straight to the hospital. You have small children. They need you. You can’t do that again.”

I’ve been thinking about it pretty much all day. Except for when I play with the puppies or am helping my eldest with his book project. A song came on the radio that got me thinking… how many of my “artistic” quirks might have actually been signs of a problem? How many times had my mother given other people that look and laughed, saying it was my artistic personality? How many times did I lose time spacing out or go into creative trances while I was writing or drawing that I couldn’t account for? Were these signs? Were these seizures, too? Am I panicking? Overthinking it?

“If this happens again go straight to the hospital. You have small children. They need you. You can’t do that again.”

That phrase now comes into my head every time I think about my kids.

I called both my parents to see if anyone had a history of seizures. They both said no. My dad wanted to know why I was asking, my mom told me it wasn’t a good time and she’d call me back later… and didn’t. Typical of them. My dad might have been gone more but he was actively interested when he was home. My mom was always home and totally uninterested. I was always sick, though…

“If this happens again go straight to the hospital. You have small children. They need you. You can’t do that again.”

It makes me wonder. It makes me want to cry. It makes me want to call up a lawyer. It makes me want to add to those letters I keep writing and saving for my kids.

“If this happens again go straight to the hospital. You have small children. They need you. You can’t do that again.”

It’s becoming a mantra in my head while I wait in another medical testing limbo.

“We’ve always known your brain was a little abnormal.” My dad had joked.

“If this happens again go straight to the hospital. You have small children. They need you. You can’t do that again.”


Puppy Play Time


These little bodies have stolen not only our hearts but all of our semi-free time. They all have homes to go to and are running around learning to play. Fuzzy stink balls of cuteness.

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And a token photo of the youngest two and I. 🙂

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The husband with a basket case of happiness


Those Letters You Never Send…

I’ve written my level headed response to TheEx’s email, something which took me walking away from it several times and probably a good 24 hours.  With that “reasonable response” written, there are a few things left unsaid that I really need to get off my chest.


The problem is actually on the return on Sunday… And again it’s not about stressing my schedule… Really? Because “stressing my [your] schedule was a phrase I quoted directly from your previous email regarding this weekend’s normal visitation. It’s about having quality time with Alexander rather than just being in the car or at work or leaving him with a sitter. While it’s nice to see you FINALLY taking an interest in the quality of the time instead of the quantity of the time, the fact that you are contacting me on a Wednesday about your visitation beginning Friday doesn’t show much consideration at all.

I’m suggesting any 5-7 day period during the thanksgiving week that 
a) makes up September, October and November visitation While I appreciate you being willing to move the September visitation on my request, the fact that you are only just now concerned about it’s rescheduling speaks volumes.
b) includes thanksgiving day (it’s my year for that), I am well aware it’s your year for Thanksgiving. Based on the schedule we currently have which was specific to this duty station, mind you, my/ChaosMonkey’s calendar is already scheduled out till his 18th birthday.
c) minimally impacts his school schedule and It shouldn’t impact his school schedule at all, you self-centered ass.
d) doesn’t negatively affect any existing plans you have for time with your family. I would like to make this irrevocably clear: ANY time ChaosMonkey is away from my side of the family negatively impacts said family. I miss him, his siblings miss him, I dare say his stepfather misses him. We all take turns as often as possible when we talk to him on the phone while he’s away. His brother and sister cry and want to know when he’s coming back despite wanting him home right then. We are all HEARTBROKEN when he is away.

Options I see, but am open to other suggestions…

Friday to Friday (20-27) Jump off a cliff. That doesn’t allow us any of his Thanksgiving break to celebrate with him.
Sunday to Sunday (22-29), See Option 1’s response.
Wednesday to Sunday (25-29) and make up November during Christmas… Go fuck your narcissistic self, it’s our year for Christmas/my birthday which I had the option of having him for every year as it is my birthday. I was NICE when I agreed to alternate years with you and you’ve been a lying, manipulative, underhanded, un-child-supportive DICKHEAD.
If the whole thing falls through due to the move, we could also discuss making it all up during Christmas somehow… Though I really dislike the idea of pushing off 3-4 months… See Option 3’s response.

Respectfully, As if you have any idea what that word means.


And on the other side of the family…

Dear Husband’s Ex,

Telling us you can’t give us the information to order school pictures for you and TheHubby’s daughter when, in fact, the school sent it home a couple weeks ago and you yourself would not be able to have ordered photos without said info, is outrageous. I shouldn’t be surprised given your colorful history but at the same time I can’t help but expect more from the human side of you, if there’s any left in the bitch that you are.

These Puppies…

Life has been crazy, as always. You’d think I’d have acclimated to it by now.

The 21rst was a day full of events; my youngest and I got kicked on our  butts by a stomach virus, my husband left for a field excercise, I got an official diagnosis and mess from the neurologist, and our dog had puppies.

It’s all been a bit overwhelming all at once, but we survived and the puppies are doing great.

We even have homes for two of them, only five more to go…