What the heck is wrong with me? Anything?

As I posted on Facebook, my doctor wanted me to see a hematologist because my platelet level seems to be running high. OK, fine, except the hematologist he wants me to see isn't in my plan. So I contact a friend who is very ill and has a doc for everything. She gives me a name, but tells me (I thought) not to see this other doc in the practice. I guess I misunderstood. I made an appointment with the one she dislikes. Oh well. Anyhow, I had my doctor's office fax over the recent blood work. I've only been seeing my doctor since I had that crazy infected lymph node on my jaw last August, but I had the prior doc's records sent over. My current doc sent over ALL the labwork, so it actually went back over four years. (Before that, most of my time was spent at the OB/GYN's office, not the GP.)

The hematologist looked at the labwork and said that my platelets were at about the same level as four years ago. REALLY? Nobody noticed that? My prior doc never mentioned that the platelets were wacky, and my doc didn't mention that it had been at this level for four years. Hmmm. OK. Also, my red blood cell count is in the high end of the normal range. OK, nobody had mentioned that either. Took a little blood today, and the cells are at least properly formed (a good sign - malformed cells would/could be cancerous, right?). Took more blood to run more tests. I should know by Monday. Sigh.

So am I having any symptoms? Well here is where it all gets wacky. Since I am on an antidepressant, most of my symptoms can be explained away as a side effect of either the depression or the medication. Fatigue, frequently chilly, night sweats, etc. I did tell the doctor recently that my hands are sometimes tingly for no apparent reason. I think I need to have a talk with the doctor about the antidepressant, but they ALL have side effects, and this one has been pretty good for me. Regardless, I still feel more tired than I think I should. I actually DID mention this to the doc four years ago, but it turned out that I was deficient in vitamin D, and I felt so much better after that, so I didn't take that any further.

However, I don't think I should be so weary, even with 3 kids, a dog, and a cat. It is so hard to drag my weary ass out of bed each day.

Reading up on possible diagnoses, well, I am not amused, but I guess I should be thankful. We are talking complete diet overhaul - getting rid of pasta (hello, my kids are Italian and love their pasta), sugar, caffeine (what do you think helps me stay awake?!), and alcohol. There may be a medication, or a bloodletting (well, that IS basically what they do!) involved as well. I'm not making any changes until I know for sure, of course. So now I need to haul my weary ass off to bed.

This will go down in history as "The Wonton Incident"

First a little back-story. I believe that everything happens for a reason. Many times, we have NO CLUE what that is at the time, and often don't make the connection even when the pieces do come together. This time, I made the connection. I have always been the child in my family that got burned. Literally. My sister cuts herself with kitchen knives by accident - I don't know which is worse. I burn myself even when I'm using potholders to take something out of the oven. When I was 12 or so, I caught my shirt on fire while cooking. Quite a feat given that we had an electric stove. I simply ran to the sink and ran the water over my shirt, putting out the fire. No stop, drop, and roll here. I also liked to catch my hot curling iron with my forearms whenever I would drop the curling iron (something I seemed to do a lot of as a kid). Why I thought my forearms were less important than a cheap curling iron, I don't know. It must have been to prepare me for last night.


I took the kids to Tae Kwon Do for buddy week. Both girls had a buddy, one of whom I then took home afterward. This meant we got home around 6:20. Kind of late to start thinking about dinner (it had been a very busy day), so we ordered Chinese food and Mark, who came home early, went and picked it up. Since it wasn't delivered, the soups were a little hotter than usual. I handed a bowl of steaming wonton soup to Janine, and before I knew it, she was screaming like bloody murder. It took me a moment to figure out what happened. She tends to overreact, and the scream wasn't too unlike the scream when she sees a bug, it was just more urgent sounding and she kept making it. She had taken the bowl of soup with one hand (chopsticks in the other hand, but close enough to the bowl that I thought she would use that hand for balance. No. Instead she had dumped the entire steaming bowl of soup onto her lap.

Mark helped her get out of her now steaming clothes while I, rather calmly I thought given the situation, wet down some washcloths to hold on the red spots. Eventually we got her horizontal and left cool, wet washcloths on her. I did have to change them a few times. The two other kids were frantic, but Mark got them settled, Janine got re-dressed, and then we all ate dinner. The food was still hot, and Janine even ate some wonton soup. By the time she went to bed, her stomach and legs weren't even red anymore. Crisis averted. No ER visit, no blisters, and able to play softball today. Phew.

Well, there you have it.

I don't know that what I have to say is all that interesting, but I guess I do approach things differently than some people, and I do try to find humor in everything. Honestly, I don't think I could survive if I didn't.

When I lived in NYC, I used to see such crazy things (normal looking man masturbating in the subway station - thank goodness he didn't get on the train when Michele & I did; crazy show in a former gas station filled with junk art; almost naked, drunk, homeless man wandering the subway station only wearing a woman's long burgundy down coat - unfastened of course, etc.). At that point I thought I should write a book, but who would want to read that?!? Now I can't remember the details of such things anyway. You probably won't hear about those again.

I honestly don't know what I WILL be writing about here. I'm sure lots will be about my children who every day push me a step further toward the white huggy jacket I have always expected to wear one day.