That Bladder Has Some Real Gall!

So, I'm terrible at puns, pardon the title.

Let me start this story at the very beginning, I hear that's a very good place to start.  Two years ago, I was awakened in the middle of the night with excruciating pain radiating down my groin/hip flexor area.  I truly could not imagine what would cause that pain in the middle of the night, but I was able to somehow make it through the night.  The following day I sought treatment at Urgent Care.  Naturally, they handed me a prescription for a pain killer.  I have no hope in urgent care triage.  It's no wonder prescription pain killers are a problem in this country, they hand them out like it's candy!  After that hopeless appointment, I made an appointment with primary care doctor.  When I was finally able to get into her, she thought it sounded like a possible kidney stone and sent me for an ultrasound.  I came to find out that my kidneys were in tip-top shape but that they did find some gallstones while they were scrolling around.  Later that spring, I followed up with my doctor.  She didn't seem particularly concerned, and just told me to watch what I ate.  This was slightly unsettling because I was preparing for my trip to Costa Rica, at that time.  There's a horror story that circulates in our family about my cousin who had a gallstone attack on a 15 hour flight home from his honeymoon, so, of course, that's all I could think about.  On the other hand, there was no way I was going to have surgery two weeks prior to my big trip, so I'd just have to risk it.  Turns out, I never had a single problem with any abdominal pain what so ever for over a year.

This fall, I woke up in the middle of the night with stabbing pain.  Though, it was not on my right side, which is what I had remembered the doctor saying I should pay attention to.  So, I didn't pay much attention to it.  I just breathed into it and after about a half hour I was able to fall back asleep.  Then, in January, I was up staying with my sister, when again, I was awakened at night and this time, it was bad.  I was super nauseous, and utterly sick to my stomach.  The only thing that felt good was a  hot shower, but even then the pain had me doubled over.  I feared this may be a true gallstone attack, but how could I know for sure?  I completely didn't know what to do, and so I texted my sister.  Yes, I realized we were in the same house but it was super early in the morning, and I didn't really want to go wait around in a hospital.  I just wanted to sleep.  After tears and tears, I was finally able to go back to sleep.  In the morning, my sister said we should go to urgent care in Forest Grove, so we headed there.  Again, I left with a prescription for vicodin and a very strict eating regimen.  My favorite things.  Great.  The rest of the weekend went without pain, save for when I stopped for a falafel sandwich on my way home that Monday.  Almost instantly, the pain started up again.  I knew I had to take more action this time.  I set up an appointment that day with my doctor for the 25th of February.  But, then, that attack?  I figured I should probably go to urgent care and see if I could at the very least get a referral to a specialist.  Sure enough, the doctor referred me on to Summit Surgical Specialists.  The following week I had a consultation with a doctor from this office.  Dr. Stites seemed pretty convinced it was gallstone pain and drew me several pictures as to what might be happening.  We decided to set up an appointment to get rid of this silly organ.  I felt relieved but also very stressed about all that I would have to line up before the big day arrived.

I texted four people to tell them of the surgery date and time.  My sister, my parents, Tom, and my best friend Erin.  All four of them instantly texted back that they could take me, or pick me up.  I was completely floored.  I have the best immediate support system of all time!  When all the dust settled out, we decided that my sister would come down the night before, get up early with me and take me and bring me home from the appointment.  Then, Tom would come down to stay with me through the night, as the first 24 hours seem to be the most critical.  Erin would stop by whenever I needed her and mom and dad would come up in an emergency situation.  They are the life-savers, on-call!  I could not have been more pleased, and assured, that I would be in good hands.

The day my sister came down, I had quite an anxiety attack.  When I think of anxiety, I think of hardly being able to breathe, somewhat like a panic.  My anxiety manifested itself in yelling, crying loudly and gasping for breath.  I truly could not imagine what my recovery would be like.  See, the thing about the gallbladder is that everyone's experience is SO different.  Some people have a terrible time, other people are just fine. Some people have lifelong issues resulting from this surgery, and some people have no problems what so ever.  I didn't know what to believe.  I certainly didn't believe in myself and thank God that's where everyone else came in.  Tom reassured me several times that I would be fine.  Jeanine tried telling me that I'd be fine.  My mom encouraged me to just get it over with.  Even my cousin, Josh, who had the notorious 15 hour attack on the plane, encouraged me to do it, as well.  I am lucky I had so many strong people around me, because I was not.  Not in that moment, I was completely collapsing. I couldn't fathom my life becoming more difficult, inconvenient, etc, post-surgery.  It was pain enough the past month.  I didn't want to deal with any more!  I had never had a major surgery before and the fear of the unknown really gets to me...

Two disgusting surgical-soap shower laters, it was time to head to the hospital.  Check in was at 5:30 a.m.  The process was surprisingly efficient and speedy.  First, I met with a very nice nurse, Maranda, who got me set up in a bed, with a gown, gripper socks, IV and the like.  It was here where she outlined the rest of the process leading up to surgery.  She let me know that in the next pre-op area, if I was feeling anxious, I could just tell them and they'd give me some medication for that.  I laughed and said, "Well that could have started yesterday!"  Lesson learned...the hard way.  She thought it was funny that I said that because apparently I didn't seem anxious at all.  I think I had done a pretty good job tantrumming it out the day before. Then, Jana (another nurse) came to get me and took me to the next pre-op staging area.  Here, I met with more nursing staff, the anesthesiologist, and my doctor.  I remember lots of people introducing themselves, and then I remember moving from my bed to the operating table.  I remember nothing else.  When I awoke, the doctor was next to me, and he informed me that the surgery went great, and that it was "totally boring."  This was the best news I could possibly hear.  Then, I got shuttled off to the post-op staging area.  In post-op I met my very lovely nurse, Krystyna, who had a very thick Eastern European accent.  She approached my bed, and said, "You must go to bathroom before you leave." I nodded yes, and then quickly fell back to sleep.  I saw my sister come in to sit in the chair at the end of my bed, and then I fell back asleep.  I slept for awhile, and intermittently was awakened by the blood pressure cuff tightening around my arm.  The treatment at this hospital was de-luxe!  I don't know how I could have possibly stayed awake.  The gowns have hoses attached to them that blows warm air under your gown.  On top of that, there are layers of heated blankets.  Plus, to help with circulation, your strapped to these cool little things that wrap around your calves that apply gentle pressure.  It was like a massage!  Are you kidding?  I stood no chance at staying awake.  My sister got me laughing at some point, and then there was the picture taking, which was obviously cause for laughter.  All I remember my sister saying was, "Are you kidding?  This is such a bad idea."  I posted it later on Instagram.  Unintentionally, I startled several people.  Oops.  I guess I didn't get the memo to everyone about my surgery!  Then, lookout, here comes Krystyna again.  She says, "Okay, I let you sleep one hour.  Get up."  I whined, "But it's so warm under here!"  She started taking off layers of my cozy blankets, and ushered me up and out.  "Time for bathroom, ok?"  Okay....okay....so down the hall we go, and just to be clear, she really drives her point home by saying, "This is short term stay.  No long term.  Okay?"  Sheesh!  So, I got to the bathroom, no problems, and when I returned she was ready to get my discharge paperwork and called for the wheelchair to come get me.  She gave Jeanine specific instructions on where to park to pick me up and then she was off.  The wheelchair gal came to get me and got me downstairs quite quickly.  As we rolled through the second floor, there was Tom, waiting to greet me.  Such a sweet guy!  It was comforting to just see his face.  Then, they got me home, and surprisingly I was doing very well.  I was texting, got a message to my principal, who got a message out to our staff, and texted family and friends.  I was able to eat a little something before the dizziness set in.  I spent much of the afternoon laying down and resting, though I had difficulty sleeping.  I was able to sleep more in the evening and I slept great through the night.

All in all my recovery has been great.  I have pretty extreme soreness and getting up and down is the most painful part.  I'm trying not to hunch when I walk, and am enjoying visiting hours during the evenings when my friends get off work.  I've gotten to share delicious meals with people from work (honestly, they have totally spoiled me!) and have had friends volunteer to drop off and pick up Redbox rentals for me.  Everyone is making life so easy for me, that it's impossible not to have a great recovery.

I'm so thankful everything has gone so smoothly.  But, I couldn't have done it alone.  It has taken the support of many, in a variety of ways, to help me get through this thing.  I continue to be blown away by people's generosity, kindness, and understanding.  Honestly.  I could not ask for more.

Fabulous Flirty Thirty

This is getting posted a wee bit late.  There are but two reasons for this.  One, I have been running really short on time.  Two, it just occurred to me today that it might be nice to update people on how the most fabulous, epic Wigs and Wine bash turned out.

The day started out with my peeps arriving at my house, getting wigged out, and waiting for our limo escort to arrive.  Around 10:45 the limo got here, and I was presented with a very flashy inkjet-grade 8.5 X 11 that read "Happy Birthday Judy!"  Clearly, it was time to party.

We loaded up the limo and headed out to King Estate's.  I have a very fond affinity for King Estate's from a best friends now-husband, who worked at the Estate one summer.  He would get to bring home bottles upon bottles of wine to practice giving his talk about each wine.  We would sit there and drink the wine, while he tried to teach us the finer art of actually "tasting" wine.  The Estate has expanded so much since he's worked there so many summers ago.  He has now gone on to open up a brewery in Portland, so I guess they have both made progress in the pursuit of great beer/wine.  We enjoyed a flight of tastes there, and then sat down for lunch at their new-ish restaurant.  The food was delicious, but the descriptions of the dishes had all cracked up.  For example, you can get a kale salad with massaged kale.  Who gets to massage the kale?  Is it a sixty minute massage?  Ninety?  Everyone seemed to enjoy their food, and it was a great way to kick off our tour!

Next we headed down the road to Sweet Cheeks winery.  It was here that we discovered the birthday girl had forgotten a very important document to take wine tasting...her I.D.  Sweet Cheeks was not about to accept that it was my 30th birthday party, no matter who told them. No I.D. no wine!  My guests found it to be very awkward to sit there and drink while I had nothing, so they quickly had their tastes and we moved on.  I can respect that they take their wine tasting seriously and they are responsible about it, but c'mon.  It's me.  Besides, I question the fact that they have a lot of underage drinking issues...at a winery!?  Obviously, these people don't know you can just go to Catholic mass and get wine for free!  Every week! ;o)

After that, we went to Silvan Ridge.  It is literally located across the street from Sweet Cheeks.  Trisha, one of my guests, came up with a  new plan for getting me some tastes.  Here's how it went, Trish would walk into the tasting room, yelling and hollering, "Judy's 30!!! WOOHOO!!!"  And, that seemed to work pretty well.  No one really asked any questions at this place, and we had more tastes. It may have helped that I ended up knowing one of the women doing the tastes.  She wasn't going to question me.  The sun was shining, even though it wasn't very warm, but the views at the wineries were so beautiful. I should have taken more pictures, but my focus was a little shaky!

Lastly, we headed to Sarver winery.  It. Was. Delicious.  I love King Estates, but Sarver had the best wine I have ever tasted.  I realize my opinion may not hold much weight seeing as how it was the last of our stops and I'd already had copious amounts of wine in a very short amount of time.  But, really, this place was great.  I would gladly, and happily, return to Sarver for ANY wine.  We also ordered up some bread, with cheesy-butter spread.  Ummmm...best idea ever, especially after drinking so much wine.

After the winery tour, we trolled through town sipping our wine in the limo, until we arrived back to my house.  From here, we carpooled out to El Torito for dinner.  More sangria flowed, and yummy dinners were had.  It was our server's first "big party" so it was a bit of a fiasco, but my wonderful significant other continued to give her positive reinforcement whenever she started looking frazzled.  He'd call her over, and say, "It's okay.  You're doing great!  We're all doing fine.  You're doing just fine."  That really endeared me to him.  Awwwwww!   It wasn't actually super fine.  I mean, we all got our dinners at different times, and drinks were lost, or came out moments before we had to leave, etc.  Granted we were crunched on time because we needed to get over to the painting party.  Our very final stop.

The painting party proved to be really great.  There were about 10 of us that painted pictures.  My man took photos for me (still waiting on getting those sent to me...patiently waiting...)  and he got some great shots of me and my guests.  We enjoyed tasty brownies and cookies from Sweet Life (my favorite patisserie in town, maybe even in the world!) and had so many laughs doing our painting.

By the end of the night, all I could do was take a look around and just be thankful for how many great people I surround myself with.  These people put out some serious cash to join me in my special day. Not to mention the fact that they humored me with wearing wigs.  Not to mention that they spent ALL day with me.  It was truly fabulous.  I am one lucky girl.  My life is truly full.

The End of an Era

(An Open Letter Regarding My 20’s)

I suppose it is difficult to believe that in less than 24 hours I will bid farewell to my twenties.  Standing on the far-edge of this decade, I’m inclined to reminisce of yesteryear.  My twenties.  I can scarcely remember my twentieth birthday, but can recall rejoicing the end of my teen era.  It must have been a bittersweet twentieth birthday for I so loved my teen years.  The four short years of high school were some of the most enjoyable and busy times of my life.  Even so, I know I must have looked forward to a new beginning in a new decade. 

By the time I was twenty, I would have been in my second year of college.  Three very fast years later, I would graduate the University of Oregon with my Master’s degree in Education.  Most of my memories from those five years are closely related to the roommates, and friendships, I had.  I will never forget moving into my first apartment with my best friend, Kristen.  We had many a trial in Blackstone Manor, which we affectionately dubbed “Crackstone.”  I fondly remember Kristen remarking at one point, “Where do they get off calling this place a manor?!”  From the closets that reeked of marijuana, to our neighbors “Blaze,” and Chris, and their awful, loud music, the endless stash of cookie dough that lived in our fridge, stir-fry night after night, and half gallons of HRD vodka mixed with frozen orange juice concentrate.  Never again will I be able to delight in a “screwdriver.”  No memory of Crackstone is complete without including the drunken person who crashed through my window in the early hours of the morning, or Brian, the twenty-two year old apartment “manager,” who was only interested in living rent-free.  The stories could go on and on, but like the stories, Kristen and I, too, eventually moved on.  We left Crackstone in search of a bigger piece of real estate in which we could settle with our other friends Kristina, and Krista.  The obvious joke here was that I could only enjoy others’ company if their name started with a K.  I always felt like the odd one out on our landline answering machine, “Hello, you’ve reached the home of Kristen, Krista, Kristina and Judy…”  Living with four girls was a special kind of experience.  Looking back now, I can laugh at all of the silly squabbles and petty tiffs that we had.  Mostly, I will remember how impossible it was to heat that house.  The heating cost was too great, even split between the four of us, and so we mostly spent our time huddled in our beds, in sweats and slippers.  I believe I even went so far as to buy footie pajamas one year!  It was in this house, that I learned to fall asleep to my sweet friend, Kristina talking to her mom on the phone every night at nine o’clock.  It’s amazing that we lived in that house for two years and still remain friends to this day.  Kristen and I returned to apartment living again after that.  We moved into 19^th and Cool and resided there for Kristen’s final year at UO, and my penultimate year.  This living arrangement seems to have fewer stories, as Kristen was gone much of the time, and I must have been sleeping.  Once Kristen moved out, my college friend Erin moved in.  Here we devoted our nights to Jeopardy, Wheel of Fortune, heating pads, and Totino’s pizzas.  Yes, we were accused of acting like sixty-year olds on more than one occasion…not that there’s anything wrong with that!  This July, I will serve as Erin’s maid of honor, and am so thrilled to stand beside her on her special day.  Since living with her, I truly understand just how important her wedding day will be to her.  She has wanted it for oh, so, long.  It was during this time, as well, that I met three folks from Maryland and embarked on a cross-country trip with two of them.  That trip was certainly one for the memory books.  In fact, that entire summer was something worth remembering.  It was the first time I had floated the river in Eugene, and lo and behold, we floated the wrong direction.  Perhaps, the wrong direction is slightly inaccurate.  The mix-up occurred in where we put our tubes in the water, and where we got out.  Suffice it to say, we got out of the river probably 10 miles down river from where we put our tubes in.  Oops! 

After I graduated with my Master’s degree, I fell into a bit of a slump.  My parents graciously allowed me to move home while I searched for employment.  I had job interviews here and there, but nothing really took.  The rejection calls kept coming.  This was extremely challenging for me to handle and I sunk into a very dark place.  It turns out, I don’t do well with rejection.  If there had been any question, after numerous heart breaks in my early twenties, it was solidified the summer of my twenty-third year.  The dark place swallowed me up whole, rendering me paralyzed in bed for days at a time, erupting into tears at random times, and having no appetite or will to want to care for myself.  Thank God my parents had the wherewithal to get me to our family physician.  I basically fought every urge to resist their demands for me to go to the doctor.  I knew I was having problems.  But, knowing you’re having problems and admitting that to a doctor, let alone the outside world, was something else entirely.  I didn’t much want my family to know I was having these problems, much less a doctor!  In a word, the doctor’s answer: anti-depressant.  You probably saw that one coming!  The signs and symptoms were obvious.  It felt like overnight the medication started kicking in, and slowly, and steadily, I climbed out of the darkness.  I spent the year substitute teaching, which looking back, was a great gig!  By the end of the year, I had found gainful employment back in Eugene, where I wanted to be, and under doctor’s supervision, took myself off of medication.  That was a difficult year, but I’m so thankful to have had my family to get me through it.  Still, to think of that year, even now, can make me emotional. 

Back in Eugene, I got myself a cute little two bedroom apartment and started work at The Child Center.  Now, here was a teaching job I had never envisioned.  After the first week, I thought, “What have I gotten myself into?”  But, I still have that thought, in my current position, so perhaps it had less to do with The Child Center and more to do with my thought processes.  The thing that I loved about The Child Center was my supervisor.  She was incredible at her job.  She was the most supportive, reasonable, caring, thoughtful, understanding, intelligent, funny, supervisor I have had to date.  She truly was amazing at her job.  Once I stabilized myself in this classroom, I felt like I could handle any kid, and any teaching job, there could possibly be.  The difficulty with working at The Child Center was that there was never any break.  We worked all year long.  Those were some very long years.  During my last two years with The Child Center, budget cuts forced teachers out of the classroom during summer months.  I had never been happier.  Of course, because I also did not make a legitimate wage while working for The Child Center, I had to find alternate employment in the summers.  This is where I ended up working with an agency out of Portland, teaching Chinese exchange students three weeks out of the summer.  The first summer doing this, I practically ended up coordinating, and planning the program, delivering instruction, and being the contact person for parents.  I had no clue what I was doing, or why I was in charge of quite literally…everything.  I cannot forget that I also housed an exchange student and a chaperone for two weeks, as well.  I’m not entirely sure how I did it.  I just remember laughing about every single little thing.  That program was unbelievable and the hits just kept on a’comin! Now, that was an emotionally draining summer! 

My late twenties brought about the passing of two of my uncles, and what seemed like an endless series of heartbreaks.  I lost one uncle on my mom’s side and one on my dad’s side.  The passing of my uncle on my father’s side hit me pretty hard.  I can make some theories as to why this is, but that is neither here nor there.  Let it be said that that was a challenging period that brought many things into question for me.  The result of my questioning lead my cousin, Jason and I, to go on a two week trip to Costa Rica.  We visited eight, or nine, different cities and traveled from the west coast to the east coast.  This trip was amazing.  It left me wanting to travel more and more.  Still, when I think of it, I have a desire to go back…or, to go somewhere!   Then, there was the trail of tears after one “boy” to the next.  It felt like I was trapped in some version of a sick, twisted middle school torture series.  To protect the names of the not-so-innocent, I’ll resort to using first initials.  First there was, K1.  Let’s face it, he was quite a scoundrel.  I’m not sure we ever really had much of a chance at building anything worth building.  Perhaps he saw that and let me go.  I’ve heard that he has been arrested a couple of times in the last couple of years, so, for him to have walked out of my life, I thank him.  Let us all take a moment to remember V.  What a train wreck that whole situation was.  I always recollect him at this time of year.  After all, that birthday present from 4 years ago is bound to show up one of these days, right!?   According to him, yes.  FedEx has it on it’s way.  Insert eye roll here*  Then, there was J1, and while a lovely man, very thoughtful, and an excellent listener, he still broke my heart to little bits and pieces.  I hear, and see, through his mother’s facebook page that he is doing well.  Then, the next major one was K2. (Ha, look at the irony of that name and situation!)  A reconnection with him sparked a hopefulness in me that had long been dead. But, actually, nothing there worked out either, except for one delightfully blissful weekend in December.  Lastly, J2.  I’m not even sure what to say about him.  I didn’t really know him, and I think, now, that he might have mental capabilities may be compromised?  It’s been a long, and arduous, journey down the love lane.  I am pleased to say that I am leaving my twenties with a new man, who has seen me through a lot of this past year of twenty-something.  I hope he’ll choose to stay awhile. 

Last summer was an especially exciting one, as I finally landed a job in general education teaching language arts.  I have long wanted a language arts teaching position, and finally, with perfect timing, I got it.  Somedays I still can’t believe that I am doing the thing I love doing everyday.  I love the people I get to work with, I love the kids (most of them), and feel like I’m getting more adept at what I’m doing everyday.  The late part of twenty-nine has finally given me some hope.  I’m hopeful about what the future may have in store for me.  I’m hopeful for new things to come.  I’m hopeful for new adventures.  I’m open-minded, and ready, for what life has in store.  It feels like the last decade, or so, has prepared me well.  With the highs, and lows, good times, and bad, I have learned much.  I’m packing up my knowledge and taking it with me as I jump-off into my thirties.  For all that I’ve learned, I’m not actually too sad to leave my twenties behind.  In fact, I don’t think I’m sad at all.  Hey, twenty-something, don’t let the door hit ya on your way out.

Twenty Things I Loved About My Turbulent Twenties

     Drinking alcohol legally

   Graduating with my Bachelor, and Master’s, degrees

   Rooming with Kristen, Krista, Kristina

 Rooming with Erin

 Cross Country Road Trip to Maryland

Costa Rica with Jason!

Getting a job

 Getting a better job

 Learning about Chinese culture through my summer job

Meeting Maria (supervisor at TCC)

     Experience in managing behaviors from The Child Center

     Responsibly maintaining my first, and only, credit card

    Numerous weddings of friends, and family

    The birth of my third nephew, Jacoby

    Identifying my own skin cancerous lesion, thanks to Kris Anderson’s high school health class

     New friends I made at college, or in the workplace

     Starting my Oscar party tradition

     My sister moving closer, so we can see each other more often.

    Discovering chicken schwarma, dolmas, and falafel 

       Participating in my first half-marathon