Where's My Chi and How Do I Know If Its Broken

M is going through a bit of a, um... change.

In order to appreciate the magnitude of this change, you need to know certain things about my wife.

1) She is very high strung. Seriously. She's like a spring that has been squished together and pushed down so much that if there's any kind of slip, it's boooiIIING an explosion of force. The best example I have of this is when she gets woken up. When many people are woken up nicely, say by their nice husband whispering their name and gently caressing their hair, they softly emerge from sleep and flutter open their eyes, making the transition from sleep to awake smooth and seamless. That's not how M rolls. No matter how gentle, how soft, or how sweetly I try to coax her from dreamland, she wakes up in much the same way that I imagine she would if I were to wake her up by poking her repeatedly with a red-hot branding iron.

2) She doesn't spend alot of time pondering the universe, or the human condition. She is very smart, don't get me wrong. She's just very practical. What's the use of contemplating the future of mankind and existentialism when there is so much laundry to do and the Buggins has done a crapper that is making the wallpaper peel?

3) Ever since she married me, she has been plagued with crappy health. I mean, most people in real life find it simply unbelievable and decide she must be making it up. Which she's not. Let's just review 2006 alone:

February 2006: Diagnosed with Idiopathic Larygotracheal Stenosis, or unexplained scar tissue buildup in her throat. The opening of her trachea was the size of a drinking straw. What causes such a thing, you ask? Good question. That's what "Idiopathic" means. It means no one fucking knows.

March: Undergoes tracheal resectioning surgery, essentially dismantles and rebuilds her trachea. 2 days intensive care, 7 days in hospital, another week with her chin tied to her chest by a string (!). Also can't speak for 3 weeks, or lift anything heavier than a glass of water. Try that. With a 1 year old.

May: She started having these terrible attacks of pain in her chest and stomach, like heartburn but 100 times worse. She looked like she was in more pain than when she was in labor. Run to the emergency room, they tell her it's heartburn and give her something (it doesn't work). Next night, back to emergency room. Scans, x-rays, MRIs, etc. They come back and say "Not sure what the attacks are, but we DID find some gallstones, and that MAY cause them, so we'll just go ahead and take that out". Gallbladder surgery ensues.

July / August: IUI to IVF Conversion. NEGATIVE.

August - I start blogging :)

August: We first notice Buggins' favorite game with her dolls is called "Going to doctor". Also, any time we get ready to put Buggins in the car to run errands, or go to the playground, she says "Going to doctor?" This makes my wife cry.

Sept / October: Painful attacks continue, about 1 every 14 days. Scariest things I ever saw. I wonder more than once if her life is in danger. M strips out all fat from diet, and eats next to nothing for fear of further attacks. Within 3 months, she loses over 15 pounds. (as an aside: She looks f'ing HOT)

Nov / December: IVF #2. Chemical positive. Miscarriage hits on Christmas Day. So painful she was curled up in a ball on the couch weeping right through New Years. And that was ON PAIN KILLERS.

January 2007 (I know, I said 2006 review but it's only one week of 2007) M has consultation with a Gastroenterologist, who examines her and then tells her these painful attacks are most likely reactions to STRESS. Dr. recommends (but will not prescribe) anti-anxiety medication.

So, that does it for our year in review. Ahh. Good times.

Now, I have enough experience with M to know that she has to discover something for HERSELF in order to believe it. I can tell her "30 R.ock" is one of the funniest shows ever, but she won't believe it and will not watch it. Not until she stumbles upon it on her own while perusing the contents of our T.ivo will she see the light. Then she will tell me about this new show she discovered called 3o R0ck.

I have said probably 50 times in the last 3 months "Hey M, you know alot of my blogging ladies (as you are all affectionately known) are having good experiences with acupuncture. Maybe you want to consider giving that a whirl?" And depending on her mood, I have gotten one of the following replies:
1) Oh, sure, sounds good, maybe I'll get a facial too, and my nails done, and I'll go for a 50 mile run, and maybe have lunch with friends. Is it ok if I leave the baby at home all day by herself?"
2) I don't need some wacko sticking needles in me, I already have one wacko sticking Folli.stim in me;
And then there's the tried and true:
3) Go Fuck Yourself. (I get this one fairly frequently)

Now, I'll get to the "change" that I have noticed in her. I don't know exactly when, or how this happened, but she stumbled upon a book called "Inconceivable" (which I'm sure many of you have already read) and she devoured it. It was like some kind of light bulb went off in her head. Then she read more, and found a book called "The Cure for Infertility" which is all about acupuncture and "Chi" and various other eastern medical things. She reads this stuff non-stop now. And when she's not reading, she's talking about it. I think it's safe to say these books have changed her life as much as any book possible could.

I believe in eastern medicine, even though I know nothing about it. To be more precise, I believe that western medicine is seriously flawed, so I give the benefit of the doubt to any alternative. They've been doing eastern medicine for thousands of years, and we've been doing IVF for , what, about 30 years? Hmmnnnn....

To put it mildly, M is very excited, more excited than I've seen her in years. Really. She is taking real interest in this, and she is seeing an acupuncturist and Dr. of Chinese medicine next week. She is determined to get her body "right" and to rid herself of all the illness, negativity, drugs, and stress that have built up in her body in the last few years. She's talking about taking MANY months off before cycling again, in order to accomplish this "cleansing". She says she is Taking Her Body Back.

I'm happy that she's so happy, and that she has such a worthwhile goal, and I am truly interested in where these journey will lead her. But I know that things are different now, and I'm not quite sure when we might be cycling again. If Ever.

Just so that I can keep up with her, can anybody tell me what my "chi" is? M tells me I need to work on it.

Oh Camera, I Barely Knew Ye

It all started out so well. Such a nice Sunday.


"It's so warm for January, isn't it?"


"Maybe we should take Buggins to the playground today?"

(Buggins starts jumping up and down screaming 'yes, yes')


"Great idea, let's bring the camera, maybe get some good shots"


We all get our coats on, I grab the camera, and we head out of the house towards the car in the driveway. I place the camera on the roof of the car so that I can hoist buggins into her car seat. She's all buckled in, I run around and get in the drivers seat, and we're off, singing about how wonderful playgrounds are and how much we adore global warming.


Then something occurs to me.


"You got the camera off the roof, right?"


"What? No. What the fuck was the camera doing on the roof?"


"Oh shit"


I pull a u-turn and head back towards home, while the Buggins screams "No! No! Playground!"

No worries, I say. I'm sure it slid off the roof near our driveway. It's probably on the side of the road. Gosh. I hope it's not too badly scratched up.


As we approached our street, (not our driveway, our STREET, which means the little bugger held on for a while) I see a shiny object in the middle of the fairly busy road. As we get closer, it starts to look more and more familiar.


It was my beloved camera. In the following condition:







I had about 50 great pictures in there that I never got to move to my computer. Who knows, one of them may have won a Pulitzer. Probably the one of Buggins sticking NuhNight's tail in her nose.


I bought a new camera. A fancy little 8 megapixel S.ony. But it's not the same.

Anyway, rest in peace, little camera. Sorry about that whole "roof" thing.

My Theory

about my dream is really no better than any of your theories...in fact, some of yours made much more sense than mine. Particularly Jenny's theory that the dream means I just need to take a big dump.

When I first woke from the dream, I lay in bed and came up with this theory: That my dream represented my sub-conscious wondering if, were it possible, I would be able to do a better job than M at this whole "trying to make a baby thing". I mean, I'm doing my part, by jacking off into a cup. The rest, really, is up to her. Now I've NEVER wondered this consciously, but perhaps my subconscious wonders if I'd be able to do better than she's doing.

Well, the fact that in the dream the pregnancy had to be aborted answered the question. No, I wouldn't be able to do better. Even if I figured out a way to miraculously become pregnant, I'd still be subject to all the various uncertainties and risks that come at us between implantation and birth of our baby. So I've decided: I'll leave the getting pregnant stuff to M. I'll stick to rubbing one out in a Dixie cup.

-----

So, in an effort to feel productive, we've decided to try naturally for a few months while we await the results of our blood tests (we're both anxious to see if that Brazilian prostitute I had unprotected sex with left me with a going away present) and the insurance process. We bought a fancy little ovulation test and M pees on it in the morning. So far, nothing resembling a surge. This will more than likely never amount ot anything, but hey, at least I'm finally getting laid.

OK, while I was writing this post, Thalia the brilliant consulting magnate just came up with a theory that blows mine out of the water. You win, Thalia.

Calling Dr. Freud

I had this dream the other night. I was sitting on an examination table in a doctor's office, wearing one of those sporty little robes that doesn't close down the back. The doctor was sitting in a chair in front of me. He asked me what I was doing there, and I explained that I was having stomach pains resulting from severe constipation. (Not really true, I'll have you know, but it was in the dream). He examined me for a few moments and then said those 2 words so seldom said to a 35 year old male:

"You're pregnant".

Well, imagine my surprise. I told him how odd that was, given that we'd been trying for so long to get my WIFE pregnant, and now here I am, the pregnant one. (I recognize that even if we hadn't been trying to get my wife pregnant, it would STILL be odd that I was pregnant, but again, it's a dream).

But the doctor went on to explain that the pregnancy would have to be aborted. I don't really remember why, I just remember him saying it had to be aborted right away. I was not very upset by this, but rather just frustrated that we couldn't transfer it to M's uterus and that it would be wasted.

That's all I remember.

OK, I'm calling all armchair dream analysts - give it your best shot. I have a theory developing in my own mind, which I'll share after I see your thoughts. I'm interested in seeing if anyone comes up with the same theory as me.

The WORST Part of a New Year

is that the social security withholding resets and my paycheck is a couple hundred bucks smaller until I blow past the point at which I've reached the limit. That's always a kick in the pants.

Happy new year everyone!

I had a nice long break from work, as well as a nice long break from blogging. I would check in on many of you periodically, and I found that most of you took time off from posting as well. So welcome back.

We had a nice holiday. The Buggins had a great "Christrem" (that's how she pronounces it, not sure what is up with that). We opened presents from Santa in the morning and went to a fancy brunch in the city in the afternoon. We usually bring a little portable DVD player with us when we go to nice restaurants, so that when she's done with her grilled cheese she can watch a little W.iggles and we can enjoy ourselves (we always keep it on mute, she never seems to mind). Of course, on Christmas the damn thing broke so she had a conniption in the restaurant and we had to flee before dessert.

We went to NYC for a few days between Xmas and New years, which alternated between somewhat fun and extremely frustrating. I bought a new sport coat though, so I have that going for me.

M had to keep getting her blood drawn to monitor the HCG levels until they were below 6. The numbers went like this: 74, 73, 55, 11, 5. Last draw was on Saturday morning, when I actually had some blood drawn too. I guess my blood tests were about to expire and the insurance company wants to make sure I don't have any dreaded diseases before they pay to help me procreate.

Her period / miscarriage (was it a miscarriage?) was extremely painful. She was hopped up on per.cocet for most of it. Good times. We need to re-submit our case to insurance for another cycle, and we're not sure how long that will take. I'm sure we will not be surprised by how FAST they are.

OK, so I should probably see why my voice mail light is on and get ready for my 8:30 meeting.