Adventures in ACA: In Which I am (apparently) fat, anemic, and a hypochondriac

Let's get something straight. I am not a big eater. I like food, I just don't have a huge appetite and I can be a fussy eater (partly because I am so sensitive to taste and smell). I calculated out my caloric intake and I get roughly less than 1,000 per day. I don't think that's normal.

But, eventually, I had to see a doctor here in Baltimore. First, there was the gynecologist. I was underwhelmed there. I honestly felt just rushed through the whole affair and I really hate when people tell me that something doesn't hurt after I tell them it does. Pap smears HURT for me. No, I have no clue why. Yes, ma'am, the brush is soft like a baby toothbrush. If I say it hurts, it hurts.

After that, I was supposed to hear back about the results of all the tests she made me get, including a blood test. I even called them (I have serious phone anxiety, I don't do that often or well). No reply. So, I figured I had an appointment at the same facility to see a Personal Physician, maybe I'd hear something then.

I feel like this whole appointment devolved into "what can go wrong?"

--They didn't get my ethnicity right on the paperwork. In fact, they didn't bother to ask. They just put me down as white (I am so not white).

--The doctor shot down any of the research I'd done on possible tests and conditions, saying he didn't put any creedence in patients doing their own study. Uh, excuse me?

--The doctor then proceeded to feel my neck for a goiter. He was squeezing the wrong place. When the guy who went to medical school can't find a major gland, there is an issue.

--He told me I wasn't hypothyroid, just fat. When I pointed out what I eat in a day, he told me I needed to be counting calories. What.

--He told me the only test that came back badly from the gyno visit was my iron and that I was just anemic, without seeming to care why.

--The final blow was the fact that he kept laughing when he replied to anything I said. He genuinely sounded like he thought I was a total idiot or a hypochondriac.

I don't care how stupid you think a patient is, none of this is professional or acceptable.

Next appointment is next week. I think it goes without saying that I am not seeing anyone at this facility.

State of the GimpyGeekyGirl

Well, first of all, I'm not dead. Frequently wish I was, but still breathing and mobile. The move to Baltimore has shaken me up far more than expected, largely due to the fact that the move was forced a week ahead of schedule. The apartment management decided to kick us out way ahead of our November 15th intended move out date. I'm still jobless in a new city and don't usually have the spoons to do more than lie in bed and watch YouTube (no money to reopen our Netflix, which makes me a very sad geek). Granted, we now have DVR, but that's no substitute when I want to see something that no channels in the area are showing.

Second, I have had my very first overnight stay in a hospital. It was a pleasant hospital, though I'd rather not have been there, I had a solo room and the doctors actually gave a damn (New Adventures in ACA, next post). I had to get a blood transfusion, which didn't help my energy levels, but at least it kept me alive. We still don't have a definite answer for why I lost two pints of blood so fast I couldn't put it back, but they made sure I'd live long enough to see a doctor.

Oof.

So, now, we're moving...

I won't call this a totally awful thing. I'm going somewhere with good public transit (good for someone who really shouldn't drive), good doctors (Baltimore *is* the home of Johns Hopkins), and lots to do (much as I love Richmond, it's rather devoid of things to do). But, it's not totally great, either. I have start my doctor search over. I have to start learning a new neighborhood. I have to get a new job.

That last bit is the scariest. I'm just about comfortable with my current job, but I know that child care work isn't for me (I never know what the parents will be okay with!). So, I have to find a job that I can do while having unreliable body integrity and health, something I can do while in a wheelchair most of the time, with a boss who understands "part time wheelchair use".

Luckily, my family is being really cool about the whole "Brenna can't do much" thing. We technically aren't moving totally until November. In the meantime, we're transporting things little by little to the new place and new storage. Just about every weekend, we'll take up a load of boxes and unpack, setting up our rooms to our satisfaction, and learning the area. I'm going to start learning how to do bus rides and light rails on wheels. I'm also seeking places to go and how to get there on Google maps. So, I will be continuing to make blog posts on traveling around with a gimpy body.

Here goes nothing!

Adventures in Tourism: The Smithsonian Institute, Part 1

Being a child of the DC area for much of my youth, I am no stranger to the Smithsonian. It was the go-to educational field trip for all ages. But, that was many years and a lot of pain ago. My joints and tastes have matured. Besides, at least one Museum has opened that I hadn't yet seen, up until Tuesday.

(Photo description: A glass case, containing a display of four disks of various materials, each with a hole in the center. One, made of glass, has a wooden rod through the hole. The display's description is visible but indistinct.)

I hadn't thought to bring any mobility aids with me, as the trip was literally decided upon 3 days before it actually happened. By then, I was already in DC, so my companion, Coyote, and I vowed to tough it out and rest all we could. 

After navigating the Prince William Public Transit System (annoying at best, way too complicated at worst) and the Metro (where Coyote and a security guard got into an argument about her religious choice to not wear shoes except in winter), we made it to L'Enfant Plaza. If you have never been to DC, here's a tip: don't be fooled by Metro Stop names. The "Smithsonian" station isn't always the closest to the museum you want. In the case of the Museum of the American Indian and the Air and Space Museum, L'Enfant Plaza is a closer option, and less of a hike. Take Smithsonian if you want the scenic route along the Mall, however.

The Museum is beautifully built and landscaped. I enjoyed the waterfall and its sound wall stone, which played into my sensory quirks, as well as getting to touch the stone from Hawaii (go see it before it goes home in 2024). The squirrels, however, are bold as brass. Don't be fooled by how cute and fearless they are. They will fight you for food. Shoo them away if you must.

Security was very polite and they had wide seat wheelchairs available for borrowing. I just had to leave my ID with them, which meant no wine in the restaurant, but then I rarely drink. The ramps were just shallow enough to be easy to navigate, though the way the lobby exhibits were laid out, I had to do a lot of weaving and zigzagging to see them, which could be an issue on crowded days.

The restaurant has earned a reputation for some of the best food in DC and it shows. All of the offerings are from various Native American cultures and are well-made and filling. All I ate was the Frybread, though I wanted more, the salmon was very pricey, and the bison chili was too spicy for me to eat a whole bowl of (I had a bite of Coyote's bowl of chili and the spice is sneaky). 

The elevators were plenty roomy enough for me in the wheelchair and Coyote, but the handicapped restrooms were a tight fit and some of the exhibits were hard to navigate in the chair. But it was worth the trouble, as the multimedia and displays were clear and enticing. I was disappointed that there wasn't more on Caribbean tribes (I'm part Puerto Rican), but I chalk that up to the fact that many tribes in the islands have either been bred out or wiped out. A few exhibits were closed, so there may have been more, but it didn't really seem to take a whole afternoon.

Hopefully, in the next few weeks, I'll be doing this again for the Natural History museum!

So, yeah...

I suck at consistency in blogging. I suck at journaling, especially when it's compulsory. If I have things to say, I say them in places where I do a lot of talking to start with. Schedules are exhausting.

But, here's what I've been doing since I last posted.

--Pennsic happened. RV camping has been moved out to Parking, making my morning commute at War less than pleasant and my evening commute downright exhausting. Otherwise, it was fun.

--Myself and two friends have decided to join a Zombie/Post-Apocalyptic LARP. More on that later.

--turns out Zoloft is not a good idea for me. It makes me loopy and forgetful. Not sure if the new stuff is any better.

--Work may be getting easier. I may have help to deal with two days a week, at least.

--I finally got to visit the National Museum of the American Indian. It hasn't got much to see right now, but what has is pretty awesome. Wheelchair Rentals there were very kind and civil, and the food has earned the reputation of being some of the best in DC, and that's coming from someone who only ate the Frybread. More on that in another post.

Adventures in ACA: Hit the bottom, now swim for the surface

I'm not naming names here. I'm too angry and stressed to be polite or diplomatic. Suffice to say, I have been betrayed by the stereotypes of my youth. 

First of all, I went to see a doctor that my insurance company recommended. On the phone, he was rather terse with me and my first instinct was to not go. However, my mother, husband and mother in law all urged me to try him, so I gave it a shot. 

Upon arriving at his office, my first thought was, "holy shit, this looks like my kind of people!" He's right down the road from my favorite nightclub, next door to a head shop, and the inside of the office was brightly, if shabbily painted in yellow. He dressed like my dad, all laid back and comfy and there was a lot of brightly colored art around his office. I relaxed a little, but not much.

The questionnaire I was handed was brief enough to give me pause. In fact, it wasn't a questionnaire at all really. It was more asking for billing information.

Our talk was brisk and left me feeling rather cold. I was allowed only to answer questions with a "yes" or "no", no clarifications would be accepted or given. He gave me a memory test that I could have passed at my most disoriented. Then, after about 20 minutes or so, I mentioned that my family had a history of autism spectrum disorders and suspected I was on the spectrum. He very brusquely told me, "you aren't autistic."

He told me he was prescribing Zoloft. While I have heard good things about Zoloft, I was not given ANY alternative. It was "take this and accept that you have to use birth control, because I'm not prescribing any other medication." Also, he told me not to research it. Don't look up the side effects, just take it. I was furious and frightened. I felt like I was back in high school, being forced to listen to a teacher who didn't understand clinical depression and was convinced I was a troublemaker, who could be cured with Oprah tactics and Pollyanna mentalities. He told me he wasn't going to give me individual sessions, gave me a strict list of group therapy rules and told me that, even if the session was canceled, I'd have to pay up $25 a week. 

I was in shock. I wanted to scream at him, "how dare you treat me like this?" But, I said nothing. He terrified me. Finally, I said I'd think it over. He asked to be paid. I had a debit card. He was very sharp and insisted that it would be cash or check and that he'd already told me that on the phone. It's possible I'd forgotten, but I don't recall that. I hurried across to an ATM and got the money to pay. Anything to get away. I was crying. I felt humiliated, angry, afraid. It was only the tip of a horrible day, but it would have been enough to turn the best day sour.

My next step took me to Richmond Behavioral Health. They were remarkably polite and comforting, even expression shock at my experience with prior doctors. They referred me to a place that I will call Metropolis Health.

The trouble with Metro Health is that they wear many hats and have to make people jump through hoops to be treated. You show up, get registered, and, if the stars are right and your guardian angels have gotten very lucky, you can be seen and evaluated. But, this is rare. After the first attempt, you have to keep going back, early in the morning, and trying for a slot to be evaluated. If nothing else, the fourth time, they make an appointment and punt you up the line. I consider myself fortunate. My second official try worked. 

The lady I worked with was super nice and helpful. She asked a very thorough battery of questions, and clarification was accepted and given. I wanted to hug her. She treated me like a person, one with feelings and anxieties. I wasn't a paycheck to her. I'm so relieved. I have appointments to see her and the psychiatrist there. I'm feeling more calm than I have in months.

More as I get it.

Adventures in ACA: The first doctor

     Let me state this for the record: I am, technically, a Christian. I don't worship like most Christians I know, I don't often have the same moral compass, and I generally don't attend church for myriad reasons. I say this, because there will be discussion of religion, especially Christianity, in this post. This is the best warning I can give you. Also, there are instances of professionals not taking mental health seriously. If you still want to read this, the story is under the cut.

     So, yesterday rather sucked. Mostly my fault. Okay, entirely my fault. But, the reason I've been out of it for the past few days is that I've been psyching myself up for this doctor's appointment. Expect the worst, hope for the best, you'll never be surprised.

     The office was downtown, in a rather old-fashioned but nice enough medical plaza (I'd passed it before and thought it was an apartment building). The wait was longish, but I was prepared for this.  I was a little nervous and caught myself stimming in the waiting room, rocking and humming and wiggling. But, things moved quickly once I was back there.

     The doctor seemed nice enough at first. She asked a few in-depth questions about my family medical history and mine. But, then she explained that, due to the office patient load, I had to pick two things to focus on with her. Okay. That's a little odd, but okay. I picked a skin issue I've been fighting and my fatigue. At some point, depression, ASDs and anxiety were mentioned and the fact that I felt like my antidepressant wasn't doing its job any more.

     Suddenly, she began asking me questions about whether I'd had childhood traumas and had I been treated for certain things. One thing stuck out as we talked. She said, pointe blank, "You're so articulate and creative, why do you think you have these problems?" There was a heavy implication that I was being melodramatic or histrionic. While I'm sure some incidents in my youth haven't done my psyche any favors, I seriously doubt I'm just traumatized and everything will be better once I handle that.

     Then, at one point, she began asking about whether I attended church. She might have seen the raven necklace I always wear. It was given to me by a beloved friend, Wanda Runninghorses, because my name means "Raven" and I rarely take it off, because it's just comforting to wear. Either way, I replied that I'm Unitarian Universalist (for the most part) and didn't give her much more than that. Honestly, I felt it wasn't her business how I pray or who to. If I'd had the guts, I would have told her (without lying, really) that I consider myself a witch. But, by then, I was crying. This woman, who I was trusting with my health, was refusing to believe that my mental health was really a problem and, after I had told her what two problems I wanted focused on, she picked a third and wasted most of the appointment on it.

     I guess I need to find another doctor.

You'd Never Know: Doctor Who

You'd Never Know: Doctor Who by brennalarose featuring a blue cardigan

     Even in this day and age, where Nerds are on the rise and Geek is Chic, sometimes, we want to wear our fandom on our sleeve to places that just won't get it. Some people still view most outward signs of fandom as juvenile and unprofessional (yet, some of these people are the ones who wear neckties with football logos or keep autographed photos of favorite actors on the wall in the office, go figure). Maybe it's just because I was raised by hippies and geeks with great fashion sense, but I always like to find ways to subvert that. 

     After a day of pitfalls and before a day of stress and nerves, I have found that I can't sleep for anything. So, while I wait for Insomnia to go home and teach Ferdy to mambo (see my previous blog about Insomnia), I puttered around on Polyvore and came up with a look I think one could get away with wearing to an interview or reception where one isn't sure of the nerd quotient (number of nerds in a room divided by the number of non-nerds and their age range multiplied by whether or not its a cash bar and/or the type of industry involved). It could also work for the office or a date night, particularly if you don't know your date's feelings on certain shows.

    Here, we have Doctor Who. I've deliberately left out as many references to particular regenerations as possible, to allow the wearer to tailor the outfit to their personal favorite (for me, most of Classic). Okay, there's ONE reference to Matt Smith, but it's a lip balm and that's mostly because, while I've found subtle things that lean towards a Companion, there isn't much for their Doctors.

     Starting with the basics, my Gothic sensibilities led me to a simple black button down top with a royal blue maxi skirt. It's easy enough to stay modest enough for the office in this combo, and yet get a little exciting for the clubs or a party. I've added a lightweight cardigan in dark blue by SeV, the same model they sell on the ThinkGeek site (ThinkGeek only sells the black and the white versions). I don't know about you, but I'd rather be too cold than too warm. Cold, I can pile on the layers. Hot, and I'm miserable with no relief. Also, I added a wide blue belt for some interest, without being too flashy. On the shoes, there's a pair of chunky, but sedate black Mary Janes (oh-so-comfy, but still cute), and a more party friendly pair of glitzy blue platform pumps. I'm a sucker for extravagant shoes and these twinkletoes are the kind of thing I'd get a kick out of slipping on before heading into an office party, no puns intended.

     Makeup-wise, I've held back a bit, due to the fact that the clothes are doing the talking. A deep, shimmery blue eyeshadow can be as subtle as a swipe of smoky eyeliner, or as daring as a full-on pop of royal blue, with flashes of silver and black. Lips should be simple, so, no blue lipstick or "Hello Sweetie/Sailor" reds here. Just a lip stain/balm combo stick in a dark, muted berry shade, or, if that's too much for you, a gentle swipe of Vanilla Custard lip balm (fish sticks, purely optional). I chose a blue nail lacquer as well, which you might paint secret little swirls of Gallifreyan or little white squares on with a nail art pen. If you're a klutz like me, don't sweat it. The blue should be enough.

     For jewelry, I think a watch necklace would be appropriate. It doesn't even have to work; I break watches just by wearing them. The touch is the key. I've included two necklace/earring options. The one that seems more sedate and professional to me, is the crystal cube set. The earrings are just two stacked blue cubes with a white bicone on top, to hint at the TARDIS with its flashing light. The necklace that matches has a little crystal heart attached. The pieces look cute and avant-garde without being insistently nerdy or too boho. On the party side, an opulent and baroque silver winged necklace with a deep blue gem compliments a simple pair of sapphire studs. With both, if you have the money (or are willing to sock it away in oatmeal tubs for months) is the top of the line TARDIS ring, with lab-created sapphires. Maybe a bit too obvious with the ring, but unless your boss or co-workers tend to stare at your hands or you work as a sign language interpreter (in which case, you won't be wearing it), you can probably slide it past all but the most savvy of closet geeks.

     I added the wheelchair and the cane to remind me that mobility needs to come first. As fun as the rhinestone heels are, I can't wear them with a cane. But, if I'm in a wheelchair, hell, I have the freedom to rock awesome shoes without my heels and toes being mashed into applesauce. The cane would work well with this. Granted, a smart ass like me would prefer a question mark handle, but the point of this was subtlety. The pearly blue and purple makes me think of a galaxy.

     This was fun! Maybe I'll do more. Maybe one for each of the Companions (how does one tone down the sequined catsuits of Zoë? How can you distill Leela into something office friendly?).

Spoonflower: Setting the Print

     I meant to start working on my experiment scientifically and last night. However, my husband talked me into going to see X-Men: Days of Future Past and then out to dinner, so I wound up being too worn out to do much. This morning, however, I got up and began the test drive.

     After researching methods of keeping ink on clothes (like Sharpie on a t-shirt), I started by ironing the swatches while covered with the cleanest white cloth I could find over it. I think the iron might not have been quite hot enough, but it sizzled when water was flicked on it and I didn't want to scorch anything. After that, I tossed them in my washer/dryer. We have a combination machine, which is awesome because it basically saves time and energy, plus water by being a front loader. Rather than washing the swatches, I put them in a normal dry cycle to add more heat, hoping to help the heat setting finishes on the cloth. I'm not sure it worked.

     When I took the swatches out, the colors didn't seem as vivid as before. That may have been a trick of the light, but I would keep it in mind for the future. Tomorrow, according to my research, I'm supposed to wash them in salt water. I have heard some complaints that salt actually removes color, so I'm only going to use it on half of the swatch and see what happens.

EDIT: It was a trick of the light. No severe fading occurred that I've noticed, after comparing it to the pictures. Still, let's see what happens.

Spoonflower: First Impressions

     So, my Spoonflower test swatches FINALLY arrived and I'm so very glad I ordered test swatches, rather than chance a whole two yard hunk of each.

     The first issue I have, is that, on the website, I can't seem to figure out how to change my shipping address. For all I know, my first order wound up an hour away at my old residence. On top of that, apparently shipping first class like they do means that your tracking number probably doesn't really work.

     However, their customer service is wonderful. The person who replied to my e-mail was helpful, polite and kind. She (going off of the name in the e-mail, the individual was identifying as female) helped me figure out what happened, changed my shipping address for me and had new swatches printed and shipped. I'm not sure whether they took the old charge and applied it to the new order or charged me again, but I'll let it slide for the present.

     The first thing I noticed is that apparently, Spoonflower doesn't use vegan dyes, they use vegan INKS. Meaning, that all my research on natural dye mordants is useless. I'm watching this thread on flickr to find a way to make the cloth hold its color. So far, it's all the sort of thing I would use to clean a Lolita outfit anyway: gentle cycle, cool wash, or hand wash, steam iron. The cotton sateen and cotton poplin have the best reputation for keeping the colors. This eHow tutorial seems to have some merit, so I'll give it a shot. It's been a while since I've done a science project (this year is my ten year high-school reunion, make of that what you will). Still, I'm going to try and do this scientifically, test out all the ways I can think of to wash and treat this stuff. A little mad science never hurt anyone! *mad scientist cackle* Ahem...

     The fabrics themselves aren't bad right now. The swatches came shipped in a sturdy envelope and the invoice was folded around them. Attached with what I think was a very weak adhesive was smaller sample of a faux suede they're introducing that I like very much. I think I might order some for something someday. For polyester, it feels very soft and lightweight.

     Each sample looked to be printed like a picture in an inkjet printer, except on cloth. The samples are about 8" square and the colors look very crisp. I ordered cotton poplin, which seems to have a very pretty drape to it.

     The Teaspoon and an Open Mind print looks just like the website showed me. It's gorgeous and the print looks enormous, which is great, because I'm a big girl and tiny prints would make me look absurd. Definitely buying the big version of this if it survives the test.

     The solid I ordered... I'm not impressed. Despite how it photographs, it's a navy so dark, it looks almost black, whereas I was led to believe it was a more vivid hue, closer to indigo. I was going to use this as a ruffle on the skirt, but I think that plan will change now. I'm either buying a solid something at Jo-Ann's or trimming with the cut-off top of the print. I only need about 20" or so for the skirt and this is closer to 27" in the repeat. Still, it's not a total loss. I can use it in my experiment as more test material.

In Summary: Hard to change address on site, wonderful customer service, fabric drapes well and looks crisp out of the package. More study needed to help decide if this is going to work out.