Good news! No cancer!

My doctor’s office finally called back this morning. The Giraffe was upset that they didn’t call immediately last week, but I chose to believe what Angiela said—if it was bad news, they’d make a point to call right away. No call means better news.

The person who called me said “no cancer” and let me know that I’d need to follow up with a breast specialist. My doctor wants me to do this because of the history of cancer (including breast) in my family. So I expect to learn more about what the lump is and how to proceed from here at that appointment (not yet set). I’m very happy about this news and feel like it was all worth it to have peace of mind.

Despite the great news and the relief, I’m going to complain about something. It’s about how this boob thing is interfering with my Couch to 5K goal. I did the first workout of the first week on Saturday, February 28, and I haven’t been able to run since then. I was naive enough to think I’d be able to go for a jog THE DAY OF my biopsy, which was just stupid. Then I thought maybe later that week—if I could get the second workout in by Thursday, I wouldn’t be behind. When that didn’t happen, I thought I’d just do two workouts in a row on Saturday and Sunday. But Saturday my boob hurt so bad, I had to hold it with one hand the whole time I went for a walk with the Giraffe. Definitely no running.

On Friday I had called the place that did the biopsy to see how long I should expect to have pain, and I was told up to two weeks. Fun. But they said I could run if I could stand the pain and I won’t do any damange. Too bad I’m a wuss and so cannot stand the pain. I’m still showering with a bathing suit top on because the weight my own boob is too much. So running? With all the jiggling? No thanks. To be honest, it’s not a horrible pain, more like a discomfort that constantly reminds me of what went on there.

But. I think I’m going to try to get back on track this week. I adjusted my running schedule to still fit all the training in before the 5K I want to run in May, so it’ll be a little more intense, but I can do it barring any more setbacks. I wouldn’t call myself a severly dedicated person, especially when it comes to fitness. I don’t often set fitness goals because I know I won’t want to follow through on them. But damn it, I set this goal, and now I want to achieve it. To have such a big set back at the very beginning has been very discouraging for me. On the verge of tears discouraging.

The good news is that Emily, my sister who is training in the same way for the same run, has a big ugly blister on her heel and isn’t any further along than me. It’s mean to be happy about her blister, but I admit, it did make me feel a little better.

I haven’t heard from my doctor yet with results from the biopsy, and since it said 2-3 days, I called a little bit ago. But I had to leave a message, and I have no idea when they’ll call back. For the last few days, I’ve been more worried about how my boob hurt than by what they may have found. It didn’t even really occur to me that I should be wondering about the results until the Giraffe mentioned it last night.

I wasn’t worried at all until the phone started ringing, then suddenly I got super nervous. After I left the message, I couldn’t relax, so I walked around the building for a few minutes. I feel better now, my boob hurts again. So, anybody without a distinct interest in a post-biopsy progress report can stop reading here, I won’t be offended.

Now for those of you who may go through this yourself someday and wonder what the few days after a needle biopsy are like, here ya go. The first day was tiring and my breast was very sore. That evening I noticed a little bruising peaking out beneath the bandage, and my breast was really tender to the touch. I also couldn’t reach with my left arm well, and I couldn’t bend over because the skin of my boob stretched and shifted painfully. I took Tylenol all day to ease the discomfort. Sleeping was difficult—I couldn’t lay on my left side or my stomach at all, and when I was on my right side, the skin stretched again. So basically I had to sleep on my back or at a slight lean to the right. I discovered that my strapless bra is my most supportive bra, and I wore it for two days straight, including to bed.

The next morning I felt pretty good. I think lying still for so long was really helpful, but as the day went on and the more I moved around, the more pain I felt. The tenderness and a sort of sharper, deeper pain, too. I kept taking Tylenol and was really careful with my movements. The Giraffe had to help me with certain simple things, like tying my shoes, because I kept wanting to have one hand gently protecting my boob when I moved. I thought I’d feel better by Day 2, but I really didn’t. And sleeping that night was no better.

On Day 3, I was finally able to take Tylenol every 4-5 hours instead of every 2-3 (I’m a wimp!). The soreness wasn’t as severe, but it still worsened throughout the day. I took the bandage off (not the steri-strips), and there is definitely some bruising, but not as bad as I imagined. But it was extremely tender! I took a shower for the first time, and there was no way I could let my boob just hang there unsupported while my arms flew around washing and shaving things. I ended up wearing a bathing suit top in the shower, and I put a bra on right away when I got out. Sleeping was STILL a problem last night, though I did manage to lay on my left side for a very short time.

Today, Day 4, I’m surprised at how much it still hurts. It’s a very subtle pain now, but it feels so vulnerable, like any sudden movement could hurt like hell. When I walked around the building a bit ago, by the end I was supporting my left breast with my right hand. That small bit of jiggling from the walk was very uncomfortable. I’m already behind on my Couch to 5K program, and I honestly don’t know when I’ll feel comfortable with the boob jostling that happens during a jog. Even with my fancy new sports bra.

Another weird thing is that I know I have a piece of metal in there. The technician showed me an example so I’d know how small it was and even said, “Some people swear they can feel it in there, so I wanted you to see just how tiny it is. You won’t feel it.” But sometimes I feel sharp pains inside my breast, and I’m sure it’s just because hello, there was a needle deep in there a few days ago. But I can’t help but imagine that it’s that little metal clip poking at me!

(Ok, they still haven’t called back! I need to know!)

I don’t know who out there will care to read the details of this, but I’m the kind of person who likes to know what to expect going into something, so maybe this will help someone else someday.

I’ve gotta be honest, it was worse than I expected. Not worse than the worst thing I imagined, but worse than I realistically thought it would be. Here’s how it went down. I got to the Cancer Center at 7:30 and I was called back by 7:45. I was shown to a small room to change into a gown – this time the gown was long and tied in the back, but I got to keep everything on below the waist.  After a short wait, I was called back to have my vitals taken, then I waited until I was called to the exam room. There a technician, Ann, who was incredibly wonderful by the way, unbuttoned the left sleeve of my gown to expose my breast. It was nice that I got to stay mostly covered.

Ann did an ultrasound to locate the lump. That part was totally painless and no big deal. She explained the procedure – the doctor would numb my breast, then insert an outer needle, then use a smaller needle to extract the tissue. He’d do that a few times and that would be it. Hearing that, I honestly thought this was going to be ok, I thought I’d be fine.

When the doctor came in, he was very kind. He looked around using the ultrasound wand, which didn’t always feel great when he was pressing on the lump, but no big deal. After about 5-10 minutes of this, the doctor and technician began making preparations. They used a regular plastic straw to make an indentation on my skin where the needle would be inserted, then they sterilized the area they’d be working on. They gathered all their materials while I laid on the bed and tried to relax. The doctor got the ultrasound wand in place, then said, “Ok you’ll feel a little pinch and some burning.”

Ok, so I thought the numbing part would be a poke, ONE POKE. I had prepared for a single poke. Poke and done. No no no. It was more like poke, poke, poke, POKE, POKE! POKE POKE POKE!!! I was very uncomfortable and wasn’t breathing well. Ann kept asking if I was ok; I just nodded my head and kept my eyes closed. I honestly thought he’d never be done, but finally, blessed relief, he pulled the needle away. They were both very concerend about me, saying I had lost my color and didn’t look ok. Ann moved the top of the bed down to get blood back to my head, and told me to take it easy and breath.

After a few minutes, when I had regained composure, the doctor demonstrated for me what the extraction needle would sound like. He used the word “vacuum” more than once, so I got really scared, but I think it was more like a spring-loaded mechanism. It clicked twice and sounded like a mousetrap. Apparently at this point he made a small nick in my skin and inserted the outer needle, but I felt nothing. However, I still wasn’t breathing well. I got really lightheaded and weak. Ann got me a wet washcloth for my face at one point.

Here’s the thing, it took a long time. I had asked Ann how long it would take once the outer needle was in, and she said about 5 minutes. This is what I had mentally prepared for. It took much longer! I think he had a little trouble getting the samples he wanted. I could feel the pressure of the wand and his hand moving around and it made me feel really queasy. No sharp pains, but the sensation was unpleasant. He’d adjust for a few minutes, then say, “You’ll hear a click in 1, 2, 3.” *Click” “And another in 1, 2, 3.” *Click” The clicks were fine, no pain, but it’s strange to know what that click means.

Then the doctor would pull the inner needle out, which I saw briefly in the corner of my eye. Actually I didn’t see the needle, but I saw that it was attached to a small handheld machine. Anyway, he put the sample in a specimen cup, then repeated the whole process. Each time it took what felt like 10 minutes, but was probably realistically 3-4. The whole time he was doing this, the doctor and Ann were chatting. Just small talk stuff that I think was supposed to distract me, but I was totally focuses on not freaking the fuck out.

When he went to get the third sample, suddenly I felt something. It wasn’t incredibly painful, but he saw me flinch, and I explained that I was feeling more than I had the last two times. He insisted I must feel NO PAIN! and immediately gave me more Lidocaine to numb my breast. By this time I’m barely holding it together. It’s just hard to stay calm for that long when you’re uncomfortable, even if there is no real pain.

He took a third and fourth sample, and said he was done, but then realized the last extraction didn’t actually get a sample, so he had to do a fifth. Then finally, sweet Jesus finally, he said he was done. But he still had to insert a small clip to mark where the samples were taken from. Ann had shown me earlier what it looked like. It was a teeny tiny piece of metal shaped like a breast cancer ribbon. I didn’t feel that happening either.

Then he pulled the needle out and I felt so much relief. I felt like I was breathing for the first time in about 30 minutes. Ann put pressure on the injection site for five minutes. It was a little uncomfortable because she was pressing down on my breast, but she and the doctor talked to me the whole time. The doctor gave me his card, said a kind farewell and left the room. Ann helped me sit up, got me a cup of water, then put steristrips on the injection site. I was still feeling really weak, so she had someone come in with a blood pressure cuff to make sure I wasn’t going to faint when I stood up.

I had to walk to the mammogram room, and Ann just took two films – one from the top and one from the side – to have evidence of where the metal clip was. She only had to close the mammogram panels about halfway, so no pain. She dressed the wound and I was lead back to an exam room, where a nurse took my vitals again, redressed the wound, and explained how to care for it over the next few days.

I have a refreezable ice pack I can use inside my bra today, and I can take Tylenol for any discomfort. I took some when I got home and some more four hours later. I’ve only felt slight discomfort. I can’t get it wet for two days, and I have to take it easy for at least 24 hours.

I arranged to work from home today, and thank god. By the time I left the hospital, I was almost crying and I was completely exhausted. Holding yourself together for that long is emotionally draining, and I felt on the verge of tears for about an hour afterward. I got home and laid down for an hour. Some women I’m sure can skip out of there and go about their days, but I needed to recompose myself first. I feel fine now. I’ve been using the ice pack, taking the Tylenol, and being gentle around my left boob.

I think the hardest part is that I was unprepared. I thought it would be pretty easy and fast, and I was not mentally prepared for what it really was. Anyone with more experience with medical procedures would probably think this was no big deal, but for me it was more of an ordeal than I had bargained for. All in all, I was there for two hours. Two hours of holding my shit together! As far as the actual procedure, I’m sure time was warped for me, but from the time the numbing needle went in till the time the extraction apparatus was removed, I’d say it was about 15 minutes. Though I almost said 30 because it felt like an hour, so that seemed generous!

The doctor was pretty confident that the results will come back with nothing to worry about, but I won’t know for sure for 2-3 days. I really hope everything is ok because a) obviously I just do! and b) I don’t think I can handle any more procedures for awhile.

I was feeling pretty good about this biopsy thing the last few days, but then I made the mistake just now of googling it. Now I’m scared. First of all, I knew my boob would be numbed, but somehow it escaped my thinking that it would have to happen with a local anesthetic. As in a shot. I felt okay about the needle in my boob when I thought it would be numb first, but duh, it takes a needle to make it numb! I’ve gotten pretty ok with shots in the last few years, but a prick in my breast sounds a lot more not fun than one in my arm.

And then I read that there are several different ways that they can get tissue samples, and some of them definitely sound worse than others. I know it’s an ultrasound-guided biopsy, but even within that, there are variations. The technician at my last appointment suggested that it was a quick poke, which makes me think maybe they’ll be using the “spring-loaded” method. But she also mentioned that she’s had it done twice before, so maybe that’s just the method she had. Mine could be different. Like dear god, the vacuum-assisted device makes me want to puke.

I’m going to ask before anything happens tomorrow, but then it’s like ZERO time to prepare. What if they say vacuum? I’ll probably be barfing while they start the procedure. And everything I read says, “The whole procedure should take about an hour” which what the hell? Numb the boob, take the tissue, get me the hell out of there! Ugh, I really should have found someone to come with me and hold my hand.

I’m so not a runner. I never have been, and if you asked me to run right now, I wouldn’t make it two blocks without being winded. In fact, I’ve always believed I just wasn’t made for running, my body wasn’t made for it. Some people are built for running, I am not. That’s it, done, no running for me.

But in the last couple months I’ve heard of three people (who also don’t consider themselves to be runners) who have started running. Those three people include Nanette, Patti, and one of my new coworkers, and all three are using the Couch to 5K training program.

Something about hearing it three times in a row made me think, “Hmm… maybe I could do that.” So I set a goal—my city hosts the annual Riverbank Run, which includes a 25K run, 5K run and 5K walk, and I want to run the 5K. Then I started preparing. I researched and bought a pair of affordable running shoes, I researched and bought a sports bra, and I asked Nanette for advice. She pointed me to these podcasts that are full of different music for each run and also count down each time you have to switch between walking and running. While I was planning to use the Giraffe’s iPod for this, he surprised me and one day this showed up:

(Wow, it looks so dusty!)

(He got free engraving and had this put on the back. So cute.)

On Saturday I successfully finished Workout 1 of Week 1. It was not ideal. We just got a big snowstorm at the end of last week, and everything was sloppy and melty on Saturday. My new shoes are already a mess. But I did it, I got through it! Thank god I only had to run for 60 seconds at a time because I wouldn’t have made it any longer. I have to be honest, I’m not completely confident I’m going to make it through the whole 9 weeks, but I’ll try.

My sister Emily said she’d like to try to do the training and run the 5K with me in May, which I think will help with my motivation. So here we go. Wish me luck.

I’m taking your advice! I’m getting the biopsy. I don’t think I ever doubted that I would – with a history of breast cancer in my family, I knew I couldn’t take the risk of not having it done. But at my appointment yesterday, even though I was there for an hour and a half, it all seemed to go so fast. One minute I was getting an ultrasound as planned, the next I was whisked off to the mammogram room, and then I was told I’d need a biopsy. I didn’t have time to process it all.

Plus I was recalling things I’d heard from other people about how doctors deal differently with patients who have insurance and those who don’t. If, after writing that post, I had heard a lot of stories from you guys about how, Yes! Doctors totally do that! I would have called and investigated a little more. But instead I heard a resounding, YES! Without a doubt, get the biopsy! And I agree.

Next Tuesday I’ll be naked from the waist up with a needle in my numbed left boob. Woohoo! I’ll let you know how it goes.

Well, I had my first mammogram today. That’s not what I was expecting when I started my day, but that’s where I ended up. With my left boob smashed between two plastic plates. I’ll tell you how I got there, but I also want to ask some advice. So if you have time, read the whole thing and help me out.

In December I was laying in bed on my right side, reading a book. I had my left arm propped up on the side of my left boob to better hold the book, and I noticed a pain. Hmm, my boob kind of hurts, that’s odd. So I felt around a bit, and sure enough, a lump. I showed the Giraffe who thought I should get myself to to the doctor that very second, but I waited and had my sister check it out for me the next time I saw her. She said it was probably ok to wait until my doctor appointment in mid-January. Well, you know how that went, and I ended up not seeing a doctor until mid-February.

The doctor felt the lump during my breast exam, but seemed very unconcerned. She had me set up an appointment for a breast ultrasound, explaining that it felt more solid than cancerous lumps usually feel, and that the ultrasound should tell us what we need to know.

This afternoon, I went into the Cancer Center downtown (that’s intimidating!) and was ushered into a small room to change into a gown from the waist up. By the way, most unflattering gowns ever invented.

(Could I look any wider?)

In the exam room, they looked at my breasts, felt for the lump and marked it with a pen. Then they propped me up so my left breast was easily accessible, squirted it with warm gel, and put the ultrasound wand to work. The screen looked like nothing to me. I have no idea how they can tell anything from this mess:

(Yes I grabbed my camera and took that when the technician left the room for a moment.)

After the technician showed the doctor (who I never even met) the scans, she told me they were inconclusive.

“The doctor wants you to have a mammogram to get a better look.”
“Um, today?”
“Yep. I’ll get the room ready and we’ll do it right now.”

Three minutes later and I was face-to-face with a big shiny mammogram machine. Oddly, I wasn’t really nervous. I asked her how long I’d be smooshed, and she said no more than 20 seconds. That sounded tolerable. She positioned my left breast on the shelf of the machine, lowered the top plate, walked away to push a button, the machine made a noise for about five seconds, and it released my boob. When it was done, I literally asked if that was it because I didn’t believe it was that easy. She had to do another one with my breast in sideways, and that was a bit more uncomfortable, but still very tolerable. When she told me that the side scan wasn’t good enough and we’d have to do it again, I admit, I was a little annoyed. But truly, the mammogram was nothing like I expected based on horror stories I’d heard. Supposedly breast size makes a difference, but for anyone with a D-cup, I can assure you, it’s not bad! In fact, because the top plate is clear, I was more fascinated by the sight of my pancaked boob than I was worried about pain.

Anyway! The unseen doctor was shown the results of the mammogram, and when the technician returned, I was told that I’d need a biopsy. They think it’s a fibrous mass, and they want to do a biopsy to rule out anything worrisome. A biopsy yo! A mother fucking needle! IN MY BOOB! My mother, who has had myriad health problems in her 49 years, has never even had a breast biopsy. I’m 29 and next week I’m gonna have a needle in my boob. A needle that will take a piece of boob away with it! The ultrasound and the mammogram didn’t scare me. This scares me. Not to mention, for the last couple months I was pretty confident there was nothing to worry about. Just a gut feeling. Now even my gut is a little worried.

So here’s where I need advice. Part of me thinks that a lot of this is happening because I handed over an insurance card when I checked in. If I didn’t have insurance, would they have done an ultrasound AND a mammogram AND request a biopsy? Do they just assume my insurance will cover it, so run all the tests in the world. No problem! If insurance really did cover all this, I wouldn’t worry, but if you remember, I have a high-deductible plan, meaning I’m going to be paying for most, if not all, of this myself.

If I were to call and explain that and ask if this biopsy is absolutely necessary, would they tell me the truth? Should I do that? There is some history of breast cancer in my family, and that makes me not want to mess around here. But how do I determine if this is really necessary and worth the cost? Do I just trust what the doctor (who I never met!) says and get it done whatever the cost?

After the whole doctor/pharmacy/prescription saga I detailed yesterday, the plan was for me to pick up my prescriptions, or at least one of them, last night and pay for it out of pocket. Because I needed it and didn’t want to wait for the HSA business to get straightened out.

Last night though, I didn’t get home until after 9:30, and I still had to shower and pack for my business trip. So I decided I’d just pick them up this morning on my way to work. I got there at 8:01 am, and there was a big sign that said the pharmacy was closed. Walgreens the convenience store was open, but the pharmacy, not so much. There was no indication of when they would open, so I accepted I wasn’t getting my prescriptions today and drove on to work.

What’s obnoxious is that the website lists the pharmacy’s hours as 8:00 am to 10:00 pm. Meaning they should technically be open at 8:01. I get that they were running a little late, no big deal, except it was just one more layer to this stupid situation.

Then to add insult to injury, I got a call soon after I got to work. An automated message from Walgreens saying, “Don’t forget to pick up your prescriptions!”

Dude, if only it were that easy.

Switching jobs can be a pain in the ass for many reasons, but the one I hate the most right now is having to switch health insurance coverage. Here’s my saga:

- I started the job in early December.
- I filled out a billion kinds of paperwork to get on the company’s insurance plan and sign up for a Health Savings Account.
- The new plan is regional and doesn’t include places near my home (I commute over an hour now), so I asked around at work to find a new doctor.
- Made an appointment for mid-January with Doctor A.

- Doctor A called to reschedule a week in advance because someone broke a foot or something. New appointment was made for mid-February.
- I told them my birth control would run out before then, so I really needed to get in sooner. They had no earlier appointments.
- I asked if I could get an advance on birth control to get me through the month. Shot down.
- So I called my old doctor’s office (Doctor B) to see if they could help.
- Doctor B, plus the two PAs that I usually saw, had left the practice. I had been assigned a new doctor (Doctor C) at some point that I had never met.
- In the meantime, back in November, I had seen Doctor D about a stomach problem. I went to her because she was closer to work than Doctor B was at the time. And I really liked her. But she didn’t prescribe me the birth control, so I couldn’t call on her for a refill.
- Finally, after some finagling (begging), Doctor C, the one I never met, agreed to give me one more refill on my birth control.

- At the beginning of February, I learned that there’s some partnership that allows me to see certain doctors near home. One of them happened to be Doctor D, the one I saw once and liked.
- I made an appointment with Doctor D for early February.
- That same day, Doctor A, who had already rescheduled once, called to reschedule again! I said forget it, cancel the appointment because I’m going to Doctor D!
- Appointment with Doctor D last Thursday was fine. She wrote me a prescription for birth control and Ambien.

- Friday I tried to pick up my prescriptions. TRIED! Keyword.
- I picked out a cute stuffed giraffe (Maury) to give The Giraffe for Valentine’s Day and brought it to the pharmacy counter with me.
- Employee Z rang me up, but just after I swiped my Health Savings Account card, I realized I couldn’t pay for Maury with the HSA.
- Employee Z said to fear not, the card would reject anything not medical-related. Except not. It totally rang up the whole order.
- I didn’t want to deal with the paperwork it would take get Maury off my account, so I asked her to void the transaction. She did.
- She rang me up again with just the prescriptions. This time it only covered $50.
- I figured the the other transaction was still pending, so it showed as money spent. No biggie, void the transaction and I’ll come back in a couple days.

-Went back on Sunday and Employee Y rang me up. Rejected. I explained the whole thing to her, but she said there was nothing she could do. I left.
- I tried to check my HSA account online when I got home, but it demanded I give it a username.
- I was never assigned a username, and I couldn’t find anything in my paperwork that described how I might find or get one.
- I called customer service, which was of course closed.

- Monday I called customer service again. She told me my username as if it was supposed to be common knowledge. Like no big deal, we never gave this to you, but YOU SHOULD KNOW IT!
- I managed to log in, and oh look, $249 available. Excellent!

- I stopped at the pharmacy Tuesday (yesterday) and tried again. Employee X rang me up.
- Card declined. I begged him to help me figure out why. He said call the bank. I said call the manager.
- Manger comes and tells me the same thing. Call the bank.
- But I charmed her with sappy kindness and a loooong explanation of my journey so far, and she said she’d take a look.
- Eventually she was able to tell me that it was one of three things: 1) No approved items were purchased [not true since it was all prescriptions], 2) No pre-authorization was available [this wasn't necessary], or 3) No funds available on card [my online account said I had plenty available].

- I need to start a new pack of birth control Friday morning, and I’ll be out of town from Thursday morning until Friday night, so things are getting dire.
- I called the HSA customer service this morning. Explained the whole story.
- The HSA employee explained that I had a ZERO BALANCE! in my account because of two transacation from last Friday. The two transaction that were voided at the pharmacy.
- She explained that it takes about 7 days for voided transactions to go through, meaning I have no access to my money until Friday or Saturday, which is too late.
- I asked her why my online account shows $250, but she sees $0.
- Oh, they’re just having a little problem with their website right now.
- Great.
- I asked how I will know when the money is back in my account (since the website clearly has no idea) because I am NOT going back to that damn pharmacy just to get shot down again damn it.
- She had no good suggestions.

I’m starting a new kind of birth control, and I don’t want to start incorrectly, so I’m just going to have to suck it up and pay for the prescription out of pocket in order to get it on time. The problem is that my new insurance is a high-deductible plan, meaning I basically have to pay for everything myself up to a certain amount. The HSA is nice because the company contributes to that, so I’m spending their money, not mine.

So when I buy this birth control on my own dime tonight, it’ll be close to $200. Just to not get pregnant.

(This is Maury, the giraffe that caused all the problems.)

As @thatpatti so astutely said on Twitter earlier tonight:

missed a few doses of celexa this week and i’m really feeling it. sometimes i forget how much crazy it’s holding at bay.

My schedule has been all out of whack, so my morning routine of popping the peach pill, well it’s not exactly a routine anymore. I’ve been a negative nelly, everything everyone does bugs me, and tonight I started questioning everything and there I was, suddenly crying on the couch.

When I was with Brad, he used to have a hard time dealing with my negativity. I was always so negative, and little things seemed so heavy and burdensome. I was always complaining, and he, as the boyfriend, was tasked with having to lift me up. All the time. I used to get upset with him (surprise) and tell him he better just accept me as I am, I’m a complainer, deal with it, blah blah.

But now I realize I was crazy! Maybe not crazy, but there was something going on that Celexa has balanced out. I started taking it to deal with heartache after a breakup, but I’ve stayed on it because it’s never more clear how much it balances me out than when I stop taking it. Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy a good complaining session, and I still get negative sometimes. But I don’t feel the weight of the world all the time, and I don’t drag my boyfriend down with me. Oh how much more enjoyable I might have been lo those many years if only I had discovered the problem sooner.

Then a night like tonight happens, and I feel just like I used to for so long. I was in between insurance coverages for awhile, and I missed a few weeks of Celexa, then once I got back on it, my routine was so thrown off that I missed several days recently. And now I can’t sleep because all I can do is feel this heaviness on my heart. A heaviness that I can’t identify or contribute to any one thing, but a heaviness that has me questioning everything and crying about it all.

I just need to get back on track. Keep the crazy at bay.

Somehow I got involved in this Biggest Loser thing at work. I got the original email asking for participants, I asked for more information, I never officially signed up, and then yesterday I got the list of “official participants” and there was my name. Rather than go through the effort of extracting myself from the list, I took it as a sign that, despite my indecision, I should participate.

So now I have until April to lose some weight. I’m not really in it to win. I rather like the way I look, but I could lose a few pounds to feel a little healthier, a little lighter on my feet. Plus I would probably fit into my wedding dress like I did when I first purchased it. Which would be nice since alterations are NOT in the budget!

Here’s the thing. I’m not going to diet, and I’m not going to start working out. My plan is to pay better attention to portions and to eat less junk. And to not sit on my ass all day. I’m not joining a gym and I’m not going to pretend to start running or anything. But maybe while watching TV in the evening I could do some stretching or crunches. Maybe I can get up from my desk every hour and stroll through the building or something. And when this god awful weather dissipates, I can do more. I’ll want to do more because I love a long walk outside in the spring.

It’s not much, but it’s what I’ve got right now.

If you have any simple tips on how to eat less, eat better or move a little more, I’d love to hear them. But if you tell me to start training for a marathon because eh, it’s nothing! anyone can do it! I’ll be tempted to break bones. Your bones.

I just got home from my second ever professional massage. The Giraffe’s mom generously gave me a gift card to a spa for my birthday, and I used it to get an 80-minute massage today. It. Was. Heaven. I want one every single day. If I ever hit it rich, that is one thing I’ll splurge on – daily (ok, maybe weekly) massages. Here are some of my thoughts on this massage compared to the last one:

- Thirty minutes are awesome, but 80 minutes are spectacular!

- This masseuse didn’t talk to me at all during the massage. I think I liked it that way.

- The music, though meant to be soothing, was distracting. I would have preferred ocean sounds or something.

- There were a few parts of my lower back that actually hurt when she massaged them. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, so I just gritted my teeth and waited for her to move on.

- I couldn’t shut my mind up. I didn’t do any productive thinking, but my mind was turning the whole time. I tried to internally yell at myself to SHUT UP AND RELAX! but it didn’t work. Next time I get a massage, I need to figure out how to quiet my mind.

- She massaged almost every inch of my body. Including my butt. Very tastefully, of course.

Overall, it was an incredible experience and I can’t wait until I can go again.

It started when I was a kid. I woke up from a nap, my mind fully alert, but I couldn’t move my body. I’d be aware of my surroundings, noises and movements, but no matter how hard I concentrated I couldn’t move a muscle. I panicked and silently begged someone to notice, to come shake me and fully wake me up. Nobody did.

It was only a few minutes, but it felt like I spent hours like that. Paralyzed. Eventually I made myself relax and tried to drift back to sleep, and suddenly I jolted up, my body mobile again. I exercised every muscle, just to prove to myself it was real.

It doesn’t happen every time I sleep, somewhat rarely actually. And usually only when I was napping, not often after a full night’s sleep. It scared me, but I never knew what it was. And it happened so infrequently that I never bothered to look into it. This inability to move while fully conscious is terrifying while it’s happening, but once I’m mobile again, I tend to put it out of my mind.

This morning I heard the term “sleep paralysis” on a radio show and thought, “Sleep. Paralysis. Yeah that sounds about right.” So I looked it up, and sure enough, it really does sound about right. I haven’t had  the hallucinations that can sometimes accompany sleep paralysis, but while I’m paralyzed, I have often wondered what I’d do if someone tried to attack me while I was in that state. I tend to think that that kind of action would jolt my brain out of it, but who knows.

The other day I fell asleep on the couch, and when I woke up I couldn’t move. I could hear the Giraffe moving around having just gotten out of the shower. In my head I was screaming at him to come wake me up, to wake up the part of my brain that was still sleeping, the part that controlled my movements. He didn’t hear me. It was such a lonely, terrifying feeling.

I’ve always had sleep problems – insomnia, poor quality sleep, etc. – and maybe this is related in some way. I guess I better mention it to my doctor next time I’m there.

This morning I heard someone refer to Khloe as “the ugly one” of the Kardashian sisters. I certainly don’t think Khloe is ugly at all, but even if someone else does…really? The ugly one? How dickish.

When my sister Andrea and I spent a summer working at Yellowstone, we both had a lot of fun and met a lot of guys (yes, we did as much partying as we did hiking). But as sisters, we were inevitably compared to each other.

One night we were hanging out in a friend’s dorm room. I was laying on one of the beds, and Andrea had stepped out for a minute. I guess I looked like I was sleeping (or maybe people are just completely insensitive) because someone walked in and asked, “Where’s the other sister?” And someone else replied, “You mean the hot one?”

I always knew my sister was gorgeous – people stared at her wherever she went – but hearing it that way, positioning me as the one who is not the hot one, tore up my heart. I laid silently for awhile, then pretended to wake up and nonchalantly left the room. I went to my own room and cried. And cried and cried.

Thinking back to that time, it breaks my heart that my heart could so easily be bruised. Now those words wouldn’t hurt me. Fine, I’m not the hot one, but I’m happy and I’m a good person and, you know, I look pretty damn good.

That, if nothing else, is a testament to how far I’ve come in the last ten years. I don’t need to be the hot one to feel good about myself.

We had another baby shower for my sister today. As soon as I got out of the car at the party my sister said, “Cute boots. You never wear heels.” I was wearing heeled ankle boots (super cute ones I got for $2 at Goodwill!). And then later my sister-in-law saw the boots and goes, “Wow those are pretty fancy for you huh?”

Apparently I’m a total slob on the weekends, when I normally see my family. I wear heels to work on a pretty regular basis, though I do admit I prefer flats during warmer weather. But I guess it’s been a really long time since my family saw me in anything but flats, flip flops or tennis shoes.

Next they’re going to act surprised to see that I’m wearing a bra.

(Just kidding. I wear one every day. Gotta keep the girls from introducing themselves to my waist any time soon.)