Terrible at being Evil...

is the caption of this photo taken by EdgarDiazRocks from my last bout... in which I didn't get to bout in because I was (obviously) recovering from surgery. But it's true - I'm no good at being evil. Hardly any of my team is... we're too nice, happy and enjoy each other's company... which is great unless you're the evil team...

Today I received a bill from Regence, my health insurance provider. I've received a couple of them but they were fo $400 for the CT scan or $213 for something in the emergency room. I got one today that said "surgery" and was only $1,250. I was kind of baffled. My coworker who had her appendix out told me her bill was $26,000. I couldn't understand. Was it like, refer a friend (we had the same surgeon), and you get it your surgery 900% off? Buy one get one for 1/18 the price? I called my coworker to make absolutely sure that her bill was that expensive. Maybe she was wrong. I really only have $2,000 worth of bills (shoot my dental work was more expensive). She was swearing up and down the price. I made some jokes and decided I should login to my insurance online and see what was pending in my claims area.

I finally go in and sure enough there was a $33,700 bill pending. I have a million opinions about the evils of the insurance industry in general but I'm sure glad I have it -since I don't even have all the bills yet.

Back to normal...??

March came in like a lion and is going out like a lamb - ok - actually it's going out like a lion too. I have the fewest blog postings that I've had in over a year this March. I was often too tired to write in the evening or I was too busy or there wasn't anything great to report besides discomfort, lack of appetite or just ennui. So in anticipation of April, I'll do a recap of the March:

Highlights of March:

Tonight - I went back to the pool! Shawndel - the instructor of hydrofit who cracks me up - welcomed me back. It was super crowded and eventually I moved from the slow lane to the medium lane. Not wanting to overdo it, I only swam for 20 minutes. So glad to back in the pool blowing bubbles.

Last Thursday we launched our new name! Our new logo! Our new website at a work event. It went extremely well. Working on this project for most of my time at work, I spent all day on Friday saying, "I'm so happy! I'm so happy!" And I am. There is so much more work to do but a great chunk of it is done.

My team lost their bout this month. Of course, I didn't get to play and called line-ups instead. I'm not even sure what the heck happened. It definitely didn't feel like we were the same team that played the Pistols in January. However, I have a feeling great things will come from it.

That being said, CarnEvil put together a great performance this weekend. We performed for our masquerade event - a little dance piece to the Bjork song "It's Oh So Quiet" with parasols. I love my team - and their willingness to do these fun and creative things together. They're the best. It's a great team.

Tomorrow I get my bee tattoos and that will end March. My stab wounds are healing and I go back on skates on April 1st. I was able to suffer though a cold this weekend without excruciating pain that was common to coughs and sneezes earlier this month... And as I head out of March, I have to remember to keep it all in perspective. Tonight at my HIV/AIDS Trail Unit Community Advisory Board meeting, a clinician was near tears as budgets dry up and programs that have been monitoring HIV positive men and women in the community disappear. She and her colleague have been calling all of the participants in this observatory program to let them know that after 17 years the program is going away.

I'm glad April is around the corner.

Many interesting things...

My work is getting ready for a new image, a new look, new website and what feels like a million other new things.  This has been years in the planning and I joined the Law Center knowing this.   It's been a ton of work and I've learned a gazillion things - like about Facebook, social networking, marketing, marketing a new brand, creating talking points and a communications plans on top of your job as a fundraiser in general.  It's been interesting, fun, very exciting to be learning and completely stressful.

You know you're stressed out when you would rather be the checkout clerk at your favorite grocery store or at the Kohl's you were just as getting a new outfit for the big event on Thursday.  Not because those jobs aren't less stressful (retail can suck I know from experience!) but because it somehow seems less stressful.  It seems easier.  They seem happy.  Their job seems easy.  And you know you're stressed out because you're acting delusional - I mean dealing with the public is crazy.  I have an office.  I can decide not to answer my phone or ask someone else to deal with people.  Really - that's a good job.

Happy Spring, Happy Words!





It's been rainy and gray these last few weeks, pushing me to that point where I'm about to lose my mind when a little hint of spring shows up and reminds me to hang in there. It will be sunny. I will be able to go camping. All will be good again. Phew.





I was walking by Nordstorms downtown yesterday over lunch when I saw a gorgeous dress in the window that was perfect for my work event next week - the right color - strapless. I had this crazy idea that maybe perhaps it was a $100 dress and not a $500 dress. So I decided to go look at it. A saleswoman saw me looking around and jumped on board to help me find it. We did. It was $500. I just smiled at her and said, Oh you don't have my size (which they didn't) but she insisted that I try on the size one too large. I went into the dressing and did try it on. And it was one size too large. And though it was a beautiful dress it wasn't $500 beautiful. I handed it off to her, told her it was too large and that I would come back when I had more time...like to eat lunch. (They have a great little restaurant. Weedy and I call it "Nordy's" and we love to go - tasty!)

Last night glancing over my hospital delivered, yet to read, Vanity Fair (with our new president on the cover!) when I stumbled across a paragraph of great writing that made me smile - and reread it. The article was about all of the books coming out for Baby Boomers - giving them yet something else to do in life - as James Wolcott was analysing, it was like all of the sudden they all needed to go to the grocery store and grab more experiences in life and try to collect them all. There are the books "a hundred places to visit before you die" or the film "The Bucket List"... I don't have a bucket list. Even with borderline-superhuman effort, I can barely get on major thing done a week, without adding bungee-jumping and whitewater rafting to the activity board. If anything, I take comfort in scratching off lofty to-do items that were basically daydreams that stuck around too long.

I like that, day dreams that stuck around too long. That's a great way to look at the "to-do" list in life.

* photo of the first sign of spring

Oatmeal, Papers, and Membership

Thick fat oats with strawberries and local honey has been my dinner twice this week. My appetite has sadly taken a leave-of-absence and I can't find anything to interest me - not my favorite Thai, Vietnamese, or Mexican peeks my curiosity. I just don't want to eat and find myself eating because I'm so hungry but no because I have a hankering for anything. And I'm baffled because I LOVE to eat. I love food. However, it could because I'm not exercising at all these last few days - which isn't relieving my stress -both of which could be the reason I'm no interested in food. Bew. At least it's tasty. Even if I'm not terribly interested.

Kathy asked me if I went and bought the last edition of the the PI as it stopped printing this week and went exclusively online. I didn't. I get the Times delivered to my door and not because I don't like the PI - when I moved out here I asked around - which paper should I get. I started with the PI and then people said "the P-I has better sports and arts but the Times has better news" so I ended up subscribing to the Times. So Seattle went from a two newspaper town to a one newspaper town and people are angry about it. I remember when Cleveland lost it's other paper back in the 80's. I'm bummed about the PI leaving because of the friends and journalists who are losing their jobs. But I'm more worried about the newspaper/news business in general. The model they're using isn't sustainable but they're not sure how to solve the problem. But someone has to report the news and someone has to get paid to do it. I'm worried about journalists and the various questions on how we're going to get "accurate" news in general. Hmmmm.

The great news this week is that we found out that Jet City Rollergirls became members of the Women's Flat Track Derby Association (http://www.wftda.com/) which is the regulating body of roller derby! Of course we found out thru other people first and don't have an official letter yet but we're on their website (not quite correct) but it's pretty damn exciting! We're going to start working on our ranking and eventually we might find ourselves at Regionals! Yeah! It's very exciting. It's very big for our league and was one of our goals of this year! I'm very proud of it. Yipeee!

*photo from the marquee at the Paramount saying goodbye to the P-I.

The girl with tears, Friday, after derby

When I walked into Swedish Medical Center on Friday, next to the hospital where I was just a week ago, a young woman, close to my age, was leaving in with red, blurry eyes in tears. I was hoping that wasn't a sign of my appointment to come. I had been "well cross that bridge when we get there" kind of attitude the whole week with my the diagnosis of my rotten omentum. Sure there was a chance it was cancer. Sure the doctor rarely took out bad omentums. Sure most bad omentums were tied to cancer. But there was no reason to worry until you were told it was cancer. However, about an hour before I left work for my doctor's appointment, my adrenaline was rush and I had "nails in my mouth" - I was so nervous.

I filled out the paperwork and didn't have to wait more than a few minutes before I was called in. Lara came with me, with the hopes that it was only good news, but with the knowledge that it might very well not be. Dr. Garnette was sitting in his office, he looked over at us and said, "Well, I just got your pathology report - ten minutes ago. And it looks like I have very good news for you." The rest of the appointment went about 15 minutes with him looking at my stitches (healing just fine), making sure I wasn't over doing it (I was only working 1/2 days), giving me the go ahead to go back to my sports (April 1st) and pulling out a dusty book to show me exactly what he did (took out all my omentum - at least he believes they got it all.) At the end of it all, he said, basically, he's never taken out an omentum that looked that bad that wasn't cancer. I was an odd duck and a mystery but I definitely didn't have cancer. I shook his hand, said it was great to meet him and left on a complete high.

And then freaked out when I got out on the street. I was pretty sure that there was nothing wrong but that 10% of doubt and the doctors major doubt had stressed me out. I texted my team and called the people who were waiting to know what the results were (obviously there were many more people way more worried than myself). I was so relieved. I was near tears. I wanted a beer to celebrate. I wanted to go home and take a name. I wanted to eat some lunch. I wanted to walk around. So I did all of it. I walked around - ordered some belated birthday gifts. Lara and I went to the Hi Life for a beer and sandwich. I dropped Lara off and went off to my hair appointment. What a great way to end a Friday.

Except it wasn't the end - I went with a bunch of friends to Burlesque in the Round - a part of the Moisture Festival. I loved it! It has as many wonderful and creative acts as last year. No one fisted a donkey pinata but there were a few more guy acts and some beautiful costumes and routines. I was telling one of my friends that this is what what I would do in my post derby career. She said she couldn't imagine a post derby career. I told her I didn't think about it often but I knew there would be an end and when that did come, the Moisture Festival would be the thing to take up my time. I love it. I love that I live in a city with such a lively underground of performers, variate, circus acts, burlesque, etc. It's another reason it's an awesome place to live.

**me and Monkey taking a nap

Going 14 mph in a 11o mph life...

I told Kelli who had her appendix out a month ago that she needed take it slowly and work only when she could but to take many breaks because she would end up right back in the hospital - because it takes a while to recover. Of course, taking a douse of my own medicine isn't as sweet or as bitter as I anticipated. Last night when I was laying on the coach after working a half day from home, I thought about just how active I was. I swim or skate derby 5 days a week. I have work meetings at least twice a week, a derby meeting and am often a social butterfly on the weekend. All of these things are great tools in managing stress and as an extroverted thinker, I need to be with people. So I was glad to go back to work today. And I got there at 10:45 a.m. and hit a wall at 3 p.m. before finally going home at 5 p.m. (I got a ride). Spent is the word. And the body hurts to let me know that I still have some time to spend this weekend in the slow lane.

Damn it.

Obstacles: kitties, snow, coughing

One thing I didn't have to worry about while in the hospital was Fezzy jumping up on my belly as is his habit.  My sleep last night was light as I was slightly afraid all night that he would jump on me. Lock him out of the room and he would sit at the door and scratch and claw.  While resting on the futon, he would give me devil eyes if I put my hand up forbidding him to step on my four fresh stab wounds.  He would peep (sometimes he's called "peeper") and give these half hearted meows to get attention. He wasn't thrilled, but like Monkey, eventually found a nice compromise on my legs on the fluffy hippy blanket.

I'm learning a lot being at home and watching TV which I so rarely do.  I'm learning about the latest workout machines, latest vacuum cleaners, and about how I should be buying gold.  I've been told the latest beauty secrets, got a 5 minute glimpse on the guy who hosts dirty jobs and how the UK thinks Obama is chilling our historic relationship.

Tonight I learned about Pavarotti for a while and "what attracts us" to men and women on this whole series purely about attractiveness - the genetic implications from looks to smell to walk.  While fascinating, I've also seen many repeats of random crime series that I've seen on late night television.  I don't feel awake enough to watch a movie. Of course, by being at home and not at the Rat City bout tonight, I heard a thunder snow storm roll in (thunder often precedes snowstorms out here.)  I also smelt my apartment fill with the smell of fire which got me off the futon in a flash.  I looked over the balcony and saw smoke billowing off the balcony and ran downstairs to the neighbor manager, my heart racing.  One of the dudes told me they were cranking out their grill (in a snow storm) and that was a while ago, blah blah blah.  I wanted to punch him.  I have such a dislike (fear) of fire - and now I'm totally wound up and awake in an apartment filled with a campfire smell.

None of this helps my whole want and desire to cough.  Since getting sick in the hospital, I've want to cough.  Of course, with 4 stab wounds, coughing is extremely difficult and painful.  I've accidentally coughed twice and the same 4 stab wounds  told me that was an extremely bad idea.

I think the best bet is to curl back up on the futon with Fezzy and learn about the latest whatever it is my life surely doesn't need.

Ice water, Omentums & lots of Love (long posting)

I got home this evening after two days at Swedish Hospital in Ballard.  What started with what I thought was a stress related stitch in my side (that actually stopped me from completing my derby practice on Tuesday), became a pain that I could barely tolerate, yet alone walk up right and turned to a quick trip to my doctor who sent me to the hospital with visions of appendicitis turned into an omentumectomy - or what I'm calling free "liposuction".  

I convinced my doctor that I would actually go to the ER at Ballard Swedish Hospital, I just wanted to go home first, get a night bag, put on my lucky bouting socks, pick up some mindless magazines, and have Lara take me so that I wouldn't have to drive or leave my car over night.  Lara drove me to the store to get US Weekly, Newsweek and Scientific American.  I don

't know much about hospitals seeing that the only time I had been in one for anything more than stitches was my birth - which I don't remember that much.  I do know f

rom all my experience with my mother being in the hospital - it's a lot of hurry up and wait.  Kind of like film too.

I try calling Pygmy on the way saying that I wouldn't be able to go swimming tonight because I was going to the ER.  She was trying to get a hold of me too to tell me she wouldn't be able to swim because she was taking her mother, who was visiting from WI, to the ER.   We had a series of very nice ER nurses.  One had never worked there and didn't know where anything was.  One came in real gruff and then relaxed once she realized we were rollergirls.  They did some blood work. No elevated white blood cells.  No raging infection.  They offered me drugs for pain (which I refused because I hate how they make me feel). When they did the CT scan, the night radiologist had concluded that my appendix had burst.  The resident surgeon didn't deem it an emergency  - get me hooked up on antibiotics (by this point I needed pain meds) and admit me into the hospital.  

My first night was not very restful as they wake you up every hour to check your vitals.  They were very nice people though and I was a "stellar patient" as I really had nothing to complain about.   Nothing had happen.  I had a synthetic morphine pain pump that would allow me to give myself a little juice when the pain became too much.  The doctor came and I told him story quickly.  I wasn't too keen on him at first because he was one of those doctors that will tell you what he thinks needs to be done as opposed to hearing you out.  However, his one conclusion was to talk to the radiologist a

nd maybe my appendix did burst and we could drain it (yeah!) and send me home with antibiotics.  But at this point, I was a mystery (which is not the first time I've heard this.) 

The doctor and the radiologist met and they found my appendix and my ovary (which was considered a possible problem) and were more baffled.  He scheduled me for surgery at the end of the day. He considered himself a conservative doctor.  He wasn't going to cut me open unnecessarily (AMEN) and was going to take a look around to see what they could find.  A mass was blocking the CT scan.  This was at 10 a.m.  Surgery would be at 5 p.m.  All of the sudden I wanted a glass if ice water - like a drug addict who needs their fix.  I became slightly obsessed and even more so since they said, I still couldn't have any.  So I brushed my teeth - like 4 times - to give myself some relief - but didn't drink the water.

Lara took time off from work and stayed most of the day.  Pygmy found me in the hospital and came by to visit.  At one point it was party central in room 426 overlooking Salmon Bay.  Pygmy and her baby niece would swing by.  Then Sonya (her sister) would stop in to check in on all of us.  Glitter Chicken (Danni) came by and brought me a lovely flower.  Kelli, from work, who had just had an appendectomy, (I kid you not) just two weeks ago at the same hospital,by the same surgeon, came by with a little note book.  We chatted about travel and language and other things while hanging out in room 426, over looking Salmon Bay in Ballard.  I send a gazillion text messages to my team, family and friends.  Talked to my parents.  Didn't answer enough questions.  Everyone left by 4 p.m. and that was just the time they came to get me.   

The surgeons were behind (kind of wish I could finish up that TB article in Scientific American) and I just looked at the ceiling in the waiting area of the surgery ward/department/theater - whatever it is called. I was freaked out about the bubbles in my saline line (which are not going to kill me I found out) when my doctor, now dressed in scrubs covered in clown fish and coral ref images (I was feeling really lucky) came by to round people up and get going.  I ended up talking about the band Snow Patrol with my surgeon who is older and heckling my younger nurse who didn't know how to use iTunes and ended up downloading the whole CD when they put the oxygen mask over my face.  The next thing I knew, they were pulling off cords and trying to get me to wake up.   

I was wheeled back to my room where Lara and Mona (my team captain and friend) were waiting for me.  They had been waiting the whole time and repeated essentially what the doctor had said them.  They pumped my belly full of gas and poked the little camera in. It wasn't my appendix or ovaries.  But my omentum - which is latin for "apron".  It is this fatty tissue that covers you internal organs - much like an apron or curtain - and had probably been useful at some point in our evolution - maybe when we spent more time running after our prey.  Who knows.  But mine was enlarged, twisted around itself (which is what caused the debilitating "stitch"), and full of cysts.  He had to pull this apron out a tiny hole and consequently I have an extra incision and a longer one to get this whole piece out.  They were sending to the lab for biopsy - though if it was cancerous - they usually see it evident in other organs and they all looked good.  He very rarely does this - remove the omentum.  In his words "it was quite laborious".

Mona left me with a vase full of beautiful tulips from my friends and dashed off to go to practice.  I was so grateful to have them there after surgery.  I took a drink of ice cold water (yeah! finally!) and that started me puking (all over myself) and then crying from the pain of puking which made my stitches hurt and then made me cry more.  They gave me something to stop the misery and gave me another pain pump.  I feel asleep.  I asked Lara to stay until midnight incase the doctor came by to tell me something, I needed someone to remember.  He didn't come by.  She left at 3 a.m.  

Renate (pronouced Renalta) woke me up to take vitals and make me pee (never had been so happy to do that) and cleaned up my bed, gave me a new gown, etc.  And I stayed awake for a couple of hours, watching the Today Show and CNN.  Texting a few of my EST zone friends who I might have missed in my flurry of texts.  I played with my iPod for a while and fell back asleep.  And woke up crying.  I was frustrated, exhausted, hungry and in more pain from laying on my back for the last two days then I was from the surgery.

Pygmy came by to visit with Sonya's chunky little baby.  I ate some french toast and then went for a walk around the 4th floor.  I couldn't wait to be checked out and the doctor would be in around lunch time.  The marketing consultants from work came to visit - I made a joke the the rebranding going on at work is killing us - they brought in some flowers and smuggled in an IPA. I visited Pygmy's mom who was getting discharged today.  And finally, my doctor came back, told me to limit my activity and though I usually ran a million miles an hour, I would have to get use to the slow lane and take it easy (which I completely understand).  And just make sure, on my check out slip they wrote "No Roller Derby until the doctor approves." He he he.

I went to the Bartell's to get my prescription filled and ran into a teammates boyfriend who could totally tell I was suffering and opened a check out line so I could scoot out quickly.   We picked up a couple of movies and curled up on the coach - with Monkey and took a 3 hour nap. (Kelli had left some soup and juices and dessert for Lara for taking such good care of me at the house.)  I ate some soup and toast.  I took a pain pill, watched America's Top Model and a documentary.  

I'll see the doctor again next week.  For now I'm laying low.  I'm looking at my omentumoctomy as my "free" liposuction.  I mean hell, I got rid of a layer of fatty tissue.  It just wasn't elective.

*photos of my lovely flowers.  Didn't think anyone wanted to see my stitches.  :p

Monkey outside, My Wii President

At 8 a.m. on Sunday morning, Janis woke up (all of us had rolled in at 3 a.m. after going to out to a bar where Lara was DJing all night) with "OMG, the front door is open. Where are all the cats?" I scrambled out of bed, pulled on jeans and ran out the door to look for the kitties who appeared to not be in the house. I walked all the way down the stairs with the thoughts of starting at the bottom and working my way up. As soon as I opened the outside door, there was Monkey, curled up by the storage units. She looked up at me and meowed. I dropped her off in the house (where upon she immediately became skittish cat and acted like she didn't know where she was.) All three of us were outside calling Fezzi's name when we found out that he had actually been in the apartment the whole time. What a way to wake up.

Tonight the Wii Fit was turned back on again. I haven't played in forever (though I managed to get the highest score in the slalom and not do so bad on the fish game). I totally forgot about all of the Wii characters that have been created - friends - made up people - Maya, J Friday, Pablo, Juan (he's great a tennis), Hildagaarde (she's the general character), Joolee (Lara's friend), Lizzy (another friend), even President Obama is part of my Wii community. And to be perfectly honest, I bet you our president actually knows how to play Wii. He was out drinking a beer at an NBA game last night. He shoots hoops in his spare time. He has two daughters. He's got one finger on the pulse of the country. I bet you President Obama plays Wii... if he has time.