Typed up earlier.

Well, perhaps a glimmer of progress, perhaps not. Went for a followup visit to the doctor Wednesday and this time ended up waiting OVER an hour before finally getting in to see him. This is just ridiculous. There were other people there waiting, one guy had been there since four for a 5:30 appointment and was still waiting when we were at last called in probably after six (my appointment was for 4:45, HA HA LAUGH). I think the only reason he showed up so very early was to talk, since they're always showing Fox News in that lobby and Glenn Beck or whatever his name is is always on and he just yaps and yaps and nobody in the lobby could stand him, he was so frigging annoying, why do they even put on that channel. This guy who'd been waiting for so long got to chattering about the auto industry and the economy and all that jazz and I found it kind of funny because he said Glenn Beck or whoever likes to hear himself talk, and I got that distinct impression from this guy too. Did he even realize just how much he went on and on and on? At one point he was complaining about how Chrysler makes three different kinds of tail lights depending on what country the car is in, and said he wrote a letter to Chrysler to complain, and I thought, "Oh boy, I bet you write a LOT of letters." And there was this other guy who didn't even bother with the waiting room but came in twice to present himself to the receptionist and see if it was time for him to go in yet. Once the lady who was listening and nodding the most to the yappy man realized how long we'd all been waiting, she went out to make a call or something. Another guy just played games on his cell phone the entire time. Nobody was even listening to Glenn Beck or whoever he was anymore, though we did laugh at G. Gordon Liddy or whoever when he jangled some gold coins in his hand and exclaimed, "Hear that? That's the sound of security!" And then the yappy man of course had to expound on the value of gold and let us know how very much he knew on the subject. There's a similar yappy man we occasionally meet in the waiting room at the mental health place, only he's rather weird; Ma can't stand him but I find him amusing and rather wish the two of us could find something to talk about. She said she believes he talks so much because he likes me, but I said, "You're the one he talks to all the time," and it's true, we've never said a word to each other yet. Stupid, thinking somebody likes me. I bet he's married and has a secure job and ten kids or something.

Anyway, I had used the bathroom out in the lobby before showing up, only to be presented with a cup at the receptionist's desk. So I decided to wait until called. So here I am, sitting in the lobby listening to Glenn Beck or whoever and this yappy guy, holding a little urine specimen cup. Nobody told me I'd have to dish it out again! Cripes, they already know my urine is just fine. I'm good at producing this stuff, believe you me, but I had only just gone. Still, the wait was long enough. When the nurse called me and asked, "So do you think you can go now? After waiting several hours?" (*sarcasm*) I said yes and did so. Jeez, those cups are so very small, I made such a mess. ;_; Got weighed, went into the office, got the blood pressure taken and the usual questions asked again, etc. etc., then the nurse said the doctor was caught up and we shouldn't be waiting much longer and then left and then we waited like another 15 minutes or so. >:/ Honestly. You know those cell phone commercials or whatever where they say, "What if firefighters ran the world?"? Well, what if Tehuti ran the world? Schedules, for one thing, would actually still mean something. I mean, seriously. I realize things happen but they shouldn't happen ALL THE TIME. If you schedule something for a certain time, then do it at that time. If you can't manage, then don't schedule so damn much. I think nurses should run the world. They do a hell of a lot more and are a hell of a lot more hospitable, no pun intended, than doctors. I was honestly hoping I would just talk with the nurse and she would do everything and then we would leave without even having to see the doctor.

The urologist finally came in and actually said hello this time. I still find that the first impression he made wears on me so I remain leery. Interesting, how something so small can stick with you. I got the same stupid questions yet again. He informed me that according to the ultrasound my kidneys are just fine and yes, I'm fully emptying my bladder, DUHCOULD'VETOLDYOUTHATAGESAGOTHANKYOUVERYMUCH. At least they got it out of the way. I was kind of hoping he'd mention the size or capacity of my bladder, as in, "Gee, you have quite the tiny bladder there, don't you!" but he didn't so I guess it looks normal, though I still believe it must be quite small, like a little change purse or something, I don't know. And now came the talk about prescribing me a medication for overactive bladder, UGH. He asked if I had insurance to help cover the cost and I said I only have Medicaid, so it'll have to be a generic..."oxybutynin," the thing says, whatever that is. I'll start on a small dose and try it for a month as that's how long it takes to find out if it's working or not. I guess I was fed up. I at last spoke up to say that I really didn't think the issue was with my bladder--I was going to add, "So this medication, this is just to rule that out for sure, right?" as I don't wish to appear some kind of know-it-all, but he cut in with, "What do you think the problem is?"

Well, at least somebody finally asked. Even if perhaps he was thinking, "Stupid wench, thinking she knows more than a doctor!" I mean, honestly, there is a big honking poster about overactive bladder on his door and I took the time to peruse it before he came in, I DO NOT HAVE THOSE SYMPTOMS. I told him about how I'll first produce an excessive quantity of watery urine in a short period of time, then it'll taper off and I'll produce too little, very dark urine, and it just alternates--"It's like whatever regulates how much and when I urinate is out of whack and can't just level itself out." Hypothalamus, I know, but I didn't want him to think, "Ah, Ilookedituponlineitis," so I didn't say that. I don't want to appear like I think I know more than a doctor, but at the same time, I know I'm not entirely ignorant. I can read a chart that says, "Overactive bladder is characterized by the SUDDEN, UNCONTROLLABLE URGE TO URINATE and by the INABILITY TO CONTROL BLADDER CONTRACTIONS, CAUSING INCONTINENCE" and say that those are not symptoms that pertain to me. You don't need to be a mental giant or anything.

"So how much do you feel is coming out, that it's excessive?" the urologist asked. God he must have been thinking I'm such a know-it-all.

"Well, I don't think I'm actually putting out an excessive amount per day," I clarified (though I sometimes wonder about this, seeing as I drink only about 2.5 cups of fluid a day yet more than that seems to come out!), "but for a certain period of time, like between two to six hours, there'll be an excessive amount coming out for that particular period of time. Like for example once, I had about seven cups come out in seven hours, which is about a cup an hour, and that just seemed like a lot to me." And hell yes, it IS. On a website about diabetes it mentioned excessive fluid intake/urination as being 12 cups/10.5 cups; I did the math, and 10.5 cups a day works out to about .4 cup every hour. That's less than half a cup. And I'm assuming, since this is toward the high end of the scale, it pertains to people who drink a lot, like up to 12 cups of fluid a day, which I have NEVER done--at the most, in summer, I drink up to seven cups in a day. Meaning my urinary output should of course be smaller than .4 cup every hour. Meaning that hell yes, a CUP within an hour is excessive! As already mentioned, even a mere 1/4 cup in my bladder is enough to wake me out of sleep, so you can imagine, putting out a cup in an hour is pretty stressful. And when this problem really acts up, I'm putting out a LOT more than a mere cup in an hour--as I mentioned to him, though I'm not sure he heard, "A third or half of a cup within ten minutes." It's just really hard to properly describe this issue as it's not something that tends to act up 24/7--it really fluctuates, and it's not so much the exact amount of urine coming out as how uncomfortable it makes me that's the issue. Maybe for everybody else, a cup an hour is perfectly tolerable; I felt very lame giving him this stat, since it doesn't sound that bad at all. But for me, it is. A few times recently I've put out a mere 1/3 cup an hour for several hours and THAT bothered me, even though it's nowhere near as bad as when this really acts up. All I can say is, before I had this issue, I was never so uncomfortable every hour. I could have easily gone an hour or even two or three before being too uncomfortable to hold it in. So I must have been putting out a lot less then, meaning, for me, something like 1/3 cup per hour is excessive.

Especially given how little I drink now!

Anyway. He actually seemed to listen to this. Wow. He started to suggest that I should keep a log of when it acts up and before the words were out of his mouth, both my mother and I said that I have. He started looking through his notes as if puzzled and searching for this log, which I had never given him, BECAUSE NOBODY HAS EVER ASKED FOR THE DAMN THING. This irked me the most as when I filled out the form he sent me, in which I described my problem, I also sent along a copy of the letter I typed up to my first doctor in which I clearly mentioned I've been keeping track of how much/how frequently I urinate and will provide a copy if requested. This log was Psychologist's idea, and I've been keeping it, in increasing detail, since the beginning of August. But nobody has asked for it. So I figured nobody was interested. Now he acts all surprised like it's the first he's ever heard of it--well, didn't you read the damn letter I sent you? Cripes. Anyway, to make a long story short, he said we would try me on the medication for a month, and I would be provided with a container to keep track of how many "CCs" of urine I'm putting out when this acts up--he said, "What you should keep track of is the exact amount, and the time of urination," during which my head was bobbing like crazy, I am so beyond used to this by now, I've even been keeping track of the color. I asked, then, should I return to drinking the amount of fluid I normally drink, since I've been abstaining from much fluid for the past month or so?--he said yes, he would like to know how this acts up when I'm drinking as I normally would. It just seemed like the scientific thing to ask. *shrug* In truth, to be most thorough, I should resume normal drinking for a month, without medication, and then start the medication while continuing normal drinking, for another month, to see how it acts up both on and off medication while I'm drinking normally. But I'm to see him in about another month, during which I'm supposed to be taking the medication, and this issue is so frigging upsetting that I doubt I could tolerate that. I have the rough log I've been keeping since August. That itself is record enough of how it acts up when I'm drinking normally and not on medication.

We went to the receptionist to make the appointment ("There's a couple of refills on there, in case we can't get you back in in another month," the urologist said on the way out), and I was about to be sent off with just this, but I again spoke up to say, "I was told I'd be given a cup to count how many CCs of fluid I'm putting out, do I get that here?" Cripes, they did the exact same thing at the first doctor's, told me they'd give me a cup and then almost didn't until I requested it at the desk. The receptionist started to poke around for a little cup but the nurse appeared and said, "I'll get her a urine hat, that's big enough, that way she won't end up filling up this tiny little cup," and then left to get a...urine hat, whatever the hell that is. O_o She returned with some sort of cardboard receptacle that I assume you place upon the toilet seat and/or sit upon, like a funnel, and a large plastic container measured in both CCs and ounces so I can keep accurate track, "Whichever one you find easier to use." Since I haven't any idea what a "CC" is or how much is in one, I've decided to go with ounces. Seeing as I already know there are 8oz. in a cup, and "cups" is how I've been measuring this all along. I eschewed the cardboard thingie since I did not see how anyone could sit on that thing and funnel urine into the plastic container without it soaking through and making a huge mess, so the nurse kept that and we left.

So, I believe I'm to go on this oxywhatever stuff ("It's not related to OxyContin, is it?" my mother had asked worriedly, I almost laughed aloud, how silly) for a month, and keep track of how much is coming out of me, while resuming regular drinking habits. I want to resume regular drinking habits since it's such a pain waiting until like four in the afternoon before having my first (and one of only two) cup of tea, but this means I'll probably be sleeping very little and feeling utterly miserable the upcoming month. -_- I doubt this medication will do squat since, as I said, although it's obviously small and sensitive, my bladder is not my problem. And my kidneys are not my problem. I think this stupid-ass hypothalamus is my frigging problem. But I guess I have to do it, to get this sorted out. Stupid process. It's been so wonderful, actually getting moderately normal sleep. *sigh*

I'm kind of glad to have this new container, though it's so big I can't sit down and use it, I have to...transfer the urine from the small cup to this big one. Sorry about all this. But it's more accurate now. I see I've in fact been overestimating how much I'm letting out; for example, what I estimated as around 1/7-1/6 cup seems to actually be about 1/8 cup, meaning 1oz. However, this just means that my bladder is more sensitive than I thought it was, that a mere 1-1.5oz. can pester me! I've been putting out about 1.5oz per hour most of today and it's very twingey, twingy, however you spell it. Cripes why is my bladder so very small?? I wonder if I should convert my previous records from my rough estimates into ounces based on this cup. Probably too much work, but I want to make my point that this bugs me. Oh, I just realized. This big honking container is...32oz.! The same amount I had to drink for the ultrasound. And it's like almost the size of one of those tall milk cartons! Okay, not quite, but it sure feels like it is. People really have bladders THAT big? Or even half that big? Jeez.

I never did get to ask if this medication causes weight gain. The experience I had with both Prozac and Lexapro has put me off of being so eager to try any kind of prescription med again, no matter how useful it might be. I would rather be depressed than put on another forty pounds. (Especially seeing as I don't believe my depression has a biological basis.) Too lazy to look it up, I'd probably find a lot of nasty side effects and get all discouraged again.

In a past appointment Psychologist had said that I seem "stronger" lately. The last time I saw her, I admitted I had no idea what she meant, as, even though I talk more during sessions, I've just felt so crushed by life lately, I feel weaker, not stronger. She hadn't meant my talkativeness, she said; "It's that you say, 'Well, I hate doing this, but I'll go through with it, if it helps me get this figured out.'" I don't know, I still don't feel any stronger, I think it's more frustration and resignation than anything. I've found that when I seem to be gaining resolve and actually DOING things, it's usually out of sheer frustration rather than any sort of strength. I don't deal well with frustration, so of course I'll end up going through this crap just to get it figured out. If I dealt better with frustration, then maybe I'd be strong. And not feel so crushed all the time. I can't believe the trees are just about bare already.

Anyway, I'm tired of typing this up and have to go to the bathroom, of course, happy fun pee-transferring time, so tar.

 

Did the 32oz. test a second time at home, got the same results; called the doctor's office and asked the receptionist (as the nurse wasn't available) for advice on what to do as I did not believe I could manage to wait the hour necessary for the renal ultrasound. She advised me to try a half hour, then, as the ultrasound is the easier of the tests available for this procedure--"But if you find that you absolutely can't hold it in, don't sit there and torture yourself, just go to the bathroom and then tell them they were too late, you couldn't hold it in. Because they're going to be pressing on your bladder during this." She was quite understanding and said many of their patients have this problem. I thanked her and decided to go with this, though I still doubted I could manage.

Well, this morning I planned to leave off going to the bathroom before going to the hospital, then drinking the water once we got there since there would be about a half hour wait (we had to register at 9:45 and the ultrasound was at 10:15), but my urination seemed to be up already so I went again as soon as I got to the hospital, then started drinking the water at 9:45 as we were registering. "I see you're drinking the lovely water," the receptionist or whatever joked as I sat there swilling it down while we presented my proof of insurance and whatnot. We went to radiology and sat to wait. Normally I would just be really uncomfortable after a half hour, but today it was excruciating, probably because I had the regular urine coming along with all this water I drank on top of it. I was getting ready to cry and did not think I could take it, but at last the nurse came out and called me and I went into the ultrasound room. She asked if I'd drunk the water, if my bladder was full, it was pretty obvious it was; asked if I was in pain or just uncomfortable because I had to go, I replied the latter, though IMO, I'd rather be in actual pain than have a full bladder, to me that IS pain, thank you very much. I handle physical pain much better than I handle a full bladder. I'm not kidding. She asked me a few more basic questions about the issue and the problems it's presenting (yet again, "When you go to the bathroom, are you actually urinating a lot, or do you feel like you have to go but very little comes out?"--ugh, how many times do I have to tell them, I AM PEEING FRIGGING BUCKETS, thank you very much), then asked if I knew what I was in there for. I knew it was a renal ultrasound but I honestly have no idea what that's for so I said not really. I don't even remember what she said in response, I was so out of it by then. She said she would ultrasound my bladder, then I could use the bathroom and then she would ultrasound my kidneys, thank God. So I had to lie down and she squirted this hot jelly stuff on me and pressed on my bladder just like the doctor's receptionist had said she would. I just grimaced the entire time. At last she finished that and I went to use the bathroom at the side of the room, it honestly hurt just to get it started, the pressure was so much. Ugh.

She'd said she would ultrasound then to see if I were actually emptying my bladder completely even though they've already established that I am. I think they could get a false...negative...on this or something, because the same thing happens when my issues are acting up--the fluid is moving through my system so fast that by the time I'm done using the bathroom and have exited, more fluid has already built up in my bladder, so even though I'd just emptied it completely, I'm sure that by the time I got back on the table there was more in there. Anyway, I had to lie on my back with my right arm behind my head, then on my left side, then on my back, then on my right side while she did a lot of palpating of my sides. I mostly stared at the ceiling but when on my right side I could see the ultrasound monitor and looked for my kidney. I could barely see anything. It was just this big glowing mess of...mess. How can they make anything out of that? I at last could barely see the outline of what looked like a small kidney shape floating in a sea of static though I can't be sure. The nurse kept pausing the image, typing stuff in, making little dots and arrows and whatnot appear on the ultrasound, then taking another image. It was all quite nonsensical to me, but whatever. I'm sure they won't find anything unusual. She at last finished and I went to the bathroom again and kept that up for the next couple of hours, the end.

Throughout all this all I keep thinking is, Libra is supposed to rule the kidneys, that's their problem area. Not sure to think if that's ironic or just stupid or not.

After that it was so wonderful, my urinating went back almost to normal and my bladder was so much less sensitive than it's been the past couple of days, but it feels twingy again now so...*sigh.* My next meeting with the stupid doctor is next week, he'll probably tell me to cut back on the caffeine and prescribe me some pills that Medicaid won't cover or something equally lovely. I wonder how long I'll have to put up with the urologist before I can move on to the next step, whatever that is. At least this stupid part is over, though I know there will be a lot more equally stupid and unpleasant parts to come. Ma says, just be grateful you don't have kidney stones. I say, I would rather have frigging kidney stones, at least they know what kidney stones are and how to treat them. Go figure I'd have something wrong with me that nobody knows what it even is.

What a lovely exploration of the human urinary system my journal/blog has become.

Anyway, this isn't proofed and I just want to go now, so tar.

 

Oh my God thank God that's over.
 

Got this from UPS today.

ASIN: 0393065677 The Red Book     Product Type: Book          List Price: $ 195.00          Amazon's Price: $ 114.49          You Save: $ 80.51 Buy Now!

Typed up last night.

Well, I wasn't going to write about it but may as well update. The visit to the urologist was lousy. It wasn't horrific, but it was lousy and made me feel that I'd probably have been better off just living with whatever this is rather than going to all this trouble since I seem to be getting nowhere. The appointment was for 5PM but it wasn't until almost six before we were finally called in so that was pretty lame. I guess exact times don't count for much anymore. I first spoke with a nurse and honestly she was the only friendly person out of the whole experience. Asked me the usual questions, bla bla, took the blood pressure and weighed me and whatnot. Asked me if I feel if I'm thoroughly emptying my bladder whenever I urinate and I said yes. She then asked if I could go to the bathroom right now and I said yes. Not for a sample (I'd already provided one), just to see if I could empty my bladder and she would do an ultrasound to see if I had. I went to the bathroom and returned and lay down on the table or whatever it is; she said this involved nothing invasive and the scan would be "above the hairline," yet when she pulled at my waistband she pulled it a bit too far for my comfort and I hurriedly covered myself in embarrassment. "You're a private person, aren't you?" she said, to which I agreed; she did the ultrasound and my bladder was in fact empty, as I could have told them, if there's one thing I'm good at it's emptying my bladder. So that's not part of the issue.

When the urologist came in he didn't even say hello or anything, just sat down and looked at the computer for a few moments, then started asking questions. I didn't like him. He wasn't rude or anything, just didn't have any bedside manner. It's the little things I notice, like the nurse saying I was a private person. When people don't bother with the little things, I notice that too and it bugs me. We went through the whole spiel of questions and answers bla bla bla, it all eventually boiled down to him telling me to cut back on caffeine since that irritates the bladder (this, even after I told him I'm only drinking two lousy cups of tea a day now plus one caffeine pill equal to one cup of coffee, caffeine is not irritating my bladder, give me a f**king break), they'll do a bit more checking out and then put me on a medication for overactive bladder to see if that helps then move on from there. Which pissed me off too since I DON'T HAVE OVERACTIVE BLADDER. I don't match any of the frigging symptoms of that! I'm actually PEEING too much and then too little, and I'm not incontinent. The first doctor pretty much ruled that out. I ruled that out. I was honestly hoping he'd just do his test then shuttle me off to somebody who really MIGHT know what's wrong with me since I know it's not a urological problem, I'm only seeing him as he's the next step in the stupid process. Go figure he'd decide to take a longer look at me. I'll take the stupid medication if they prescribe it--maybe it'll help a little with the tension--though more likely than not it'll just make me gain weight and not help this issue in the least since I DON'T HAVE OVERACTIVE BLADDER.

He then had to do some other kind of test and left and the nurse returned. I now had to partially disrobe. I started crying and had Ma leave since Psychologist had suggested this, I don't want her to see me. The nurse gave me this paper sheet thing and told me I could put it around myself and she left and I cried as I took my shoes and pants off, it was so humiliating. Then I didn't know how to put the paper around myself since it wasn't big enough; the nurse returned and clarified that it was just to cover me up when lying on the table and so I got up there, making sure to keep myself concealed the entire time, but of course she had to lift the sheet back up. She had said she would hold my hand if I wanted her to but I was so upset all I could do was clamp my hand over my eyes--if I can't see them, they can't see me--and cry. The urologist came back in and felt my belly or something, then I had to lift my legs and I guess he just looked at me since I felt nothing but it was just so awful. I remember the nurse saying, "It helps her to keep her eyes covered" while he did this. He was probably mentally complaining about what a baby I was crying during a routine check, then he left and that was it. I heard that this had something to do with checking to see if I had a "fallen bladder" or something but I was informed that my urine sample had come back normal, and everything "looked normal" when I was looked at, so everything seemed fine. I could've told them that. The nurse left to allow me to re-dress and I did so in tears. I remember she knocked and asked if it was okay for her to come back in, though I could hardly speak up enough to tell her so, of course it wasn't really okay, I just wanted to go curl up in a corner somewhere and cry to myself but of course I couldn't do that here. We got some forms for a followup ultrasound and appointment and left. I cried the rest of the night, I just felt I couldn't make myself small and invisible enough. If it hadn't been so late at night with my parents home I would have just drawn a hot bath and pulled the curtain and curled up in there to sob for a few hours.

On the way home, as I cried, Ma simply said, "I told you he'd want to look at your hoohah!" I don't understand why I can't just get things like a pat on the shoulder, a sympathetic word, even a hug although I detest being touched. Such things seem like too much to ask. I really feel alone in all this.

What bothered me even more than the "exam" was the urologist's brush-off attitude--just cut back the caffeine and we'll try you on some overactive bladder meds--just yet another delay in this stupid process. It hardly seems worth it. I'm so tired of not being taken seriously. I know I'm ignorant and I'm no doctor but I know my own frigging body, I could tell them there's nothing wrong with my urine and my bladder's in the right place and it's not overactive and this and that. But I just keep getting delayed with all this stupid useless stuff. I just want it all over.

I'm now to go in for some sort of ultrasound that requires my bladder to be full. The instructions are to drink 32oz. of water at least an hour before the test and to not void my bladder. 32oz.?? I found this unbelievable and so decided to try it at home first to see if I could manage. I drank the 32oz. of water (which is about 4 cups), nearly getting ill, then sat to wait. A half hour through, I felt very uncomfortable. By 45 minutes, it was so excruciating I could no longer take it. I was crying and couldn't stand or sit properly so had to go. It took two hours for all the fluid to come back out of me. That first trip to the toilet, I let out 3/4 cup. So I take it that about a half cup is as much as I can hold without getting truly uncomfortable since 3/4 cup was too much to bear in a public setting, especially if I'm going to be WAITING for this test while filling out more forms and then having to get up on a table to get the ultrasound done! I knew this already, though. When my bladder has about 1/3-1/2 cup in it, that's usually uncomfortable enough to wake me out of a sound sleep; I've had 3/4 cup in there only once that I recall and that too was during my sleep. Never mind letting this much fluid build up while I'm AWAKE. And waiting in a public spot for God knows how long, look how late the urologist ran! What if it takes me another hour just to get to the ultrasound?

So there's no way I can be expected to drink 32oz. and then wait over an hour. I decided I'll have to just drink it sooner before the test. I went online to look at the average bladder capacity because this just seems really unreasonable, telling somebody to drink FOUR CUPS and have a full bladder, how much do they expect it to hold? What I read appalled me. Other people seem easily capable of holding over a cup of fluid--heck, up to two cups and more, even. Nowhere in all the averages did I find mention of holding only a half cup or 3/4 cup. I can't understand or believe that other people, normal people, can hold so much yet I can't. I can't even imagine holding what's considered the average amount of fluid, seeing how much agony a mere 3/4 cup put me in--I couldn't even function by then, I was crying and could barely walk. This leads me to believe that either my bladder is incredibly weak, or smaller than average. If the former, then there's no way they're going to get their ultrasound done right since I can't manage a "full" bladder. If the latter, then how could this possibly get fixed? It's not like they can give me a new bladder, and I do not believe that "training" it, getting it used to holding more than I usually let it hold, would help. I've always been like this. I do not handle a full bladder well at all--I remember incidents from childhood where it was the same. Cripes, even a mere 1/4 cup makes me uncomfortable enough to go. A mere 1/3 cup wakes me out of sleep. This is normal for me. I have no idea how I'm going to handle this next ultrasound. I'm guessing that if they can't get a read, then they can't get a frigging read. Not my fault. Maybe if I manage to tell them how much pain it puts me in to have such a small amount of fluid in me, they'll realize it's not the problem they thought it was. Doubtful though. Just another stupid test that will tell them a bunch of nothing. Cut back on the caffeine, maybe that'll help.

Sorry for all this gross talk but there's no other way to put it.

Then the week after that comes a followup visit to the urologist to discuss the next step. Given that I get that far, what with this stupid ultrasound. If I feel up to it Tuesday (the day before the test), since I've started that time of the month (of course), I'll try the 32oz. test again and see if the results are the same. Out of curiosity I drank a cup of water straight today to see if it too would pass through me within a half hour as the 32oz. did but it didn't and that confuses me. Is there a certain minimum amount of fluid you must drink all at once for this to work? Because I kept track and almost all of that 32oz. came out of me within two hours. Strange. I was peeing, peeing, peeing, then all of a sudden, it stopped. Didn't even taper off. Another odd thing is that, aside from the lack of tapering off, the results I got from the 32oz. test were exactly the same as the symptoms I have when this is acting up. So my issues act just like I've consumed a large quantity of water a half hour or so previous to them starting to act up, when as you already know, I've done no such thing. The fluid coming out of me was clear and everything.

Sorry, yet again, for the grossness of all that.

I'm just so discouraged. Psychologist stressed yet again for me to feel free to call her and update her before my next appointment with her (which is the day after the ultrasound)--I didn't call her the last time, as I explained that I felt that everyone gets "Just one emergency call" and I had already used up two (one for the 19-hour incident, one for the time back in June when my family went to Mackinaw City without me), I don't want to be one of those annoying clingy people who call every time they have a "crisis," I felt that even if she'd asked me to call I should do so only if there's a REAL problem. She hoped for me to loosen this restriction somewhat and feel able to call her if I need to, and also just to update her since she said she really wants to know how it goes. I haven't called yet since even though I do have an update, I don't have any definite answer as for what's going on, and I still feel I should hold off any possible call for when I feel truly lousy and need a listening ear. The plain truth is I could use a few encouraging words from Psychologist--or anybody--just about every day. But I can hardly go calling people begging for such a thing every day, so I don't. I'm a...hoarder. For want of a better word. I believe in storing things up for when they're REALLY needed, and that includes, say, calls to a psychologist. I gave her the example of me having some wonderful chocolate truffles once in the past. I had only a few of them, around five or six, and they were so wonderfully delicious. I told myself not to eat them except when it was a really special occasion, then I would allow myself one. I ended up never finishing them at all because I just kept telling myself to wait for when I REALLY deserved them. It's the same thing here--she says I can call her, but I feel I shouldn't unless there's a REAL issue, when I feel REALLY lousy and need somebody to talk to--and seeing as I feel lousy just about all the time, I would be calling her all the time, so I just decide not to call or bother her at all. Sure, say that I'm crying and feeling abysmal right now (which I'm not, at least not at the moment), and want to talk to somebody--well, who's to say I won't feel even worse tomorrow? Better hold off on the call until then. Saving the truffles for a day when I can enjoy them more.

So that's basically the situation. At the moment, the chickadees are the main reason I even keep going on. I have to cling to some little thing and they've become it. What I read about them, huddled shivering in their holes, coming out in the morning needing food just to make it through another cold night, keeps me getting up day after day to put out the food and watch them come and eat. I give them something to make it through the day, they give me something to do the same. I don't really have much else to hold on to, at least, not much that seems of worth. I feel awful when I can't be here to say goodnight to them when they drift away in the evening, like I'm neglecting them. Another reason the urologist appointment was so lousy, being at after six in the afternoon, when the chickadees are finishing up for the day. It's lonely at night, when they're not here.

I told myself to give myself a break on my writing as I've been sick lately with another cold so have been spending most of my time lying in hot baths, reading, and watching the birds. My reading speed has picked up. Probably from not being online that much. I have to keep chasing away the bluejays and sometimes I just sit and stare off into space and doze off. Not much else to occupy my time. A combination of pseudoephedrine and diphenhydramine seems to have taken away my ability to remember my dreams, though I hope that returns sometime soon. Last night I remembered a fragment in which I had forgotten to go talk to Pepper's grave on the anniversary of her death, as in my dream it was now October 27th. I then wondered what had happened to the rest of the month.

That's pretty much how I feel every day, what happened to the rest of the year. Summer just abruptly ended and I seem to have missed it. The trees are starting to go bare and I have no idea how or when this happened. It's like everything just rushed past while I wasn't paying attention. My trip to the island back in June is like it never even happened. I look at my photos of it and it seems unreal, like I wasn't there. It's good to sit in the house, curled up with a book and watching the birds outside the window when it's cold outside, but how did it get so cold so fast? What happened to the green and the warm and me walking around and around the house for my exercise while I sweated and cicadas buzzed and the chipmunks raided the feeder? I never even noticed when the cricket song faded away and I haven't seen a chipmunk in ages...

I just hope winter flies by as quickly as the summer seemed to. It seems like the trees just finally got green and then I missed the rest of it.

Anyway. The pseudoephedrine and diphenhydramine are kicking in so I'd best go now. Not proofed, tar.

 

Just for reference, and for anyone who might know how to deal with the situation. I discovered a site http://www.angelfire.com/in4/gentlewolf/ that has posted various of my writings without my knowledge or permission, and without giving me credit; seeing as there are no links or information on the main page given above, there's no way to contact them or even to know just how much of my work they've appropriated. I just know what links I came across when I Googled their main site. There's lots of other stuff there too which I would guess is writing appropriated from other unsuspecting writers.

The ones of mine I found in the Google search:

http://www.angelfire.com/in4/gentlewolf/charcter.html
http://www.angelfire.com/in4/gentlewolf/chancemeeting.html
http://www.angelfire.com/in4/gentlewolf/priceofforgetfulness.html
http://www.angelfire.com/in4/gentlewolf/somethinginthemoonlight.html
http://www.angelfire.com/in4/gentlewolf/surrender.html
http://www.angelfire.com/in4/gentlewolf/secretchildren.html
http://www.angelfire.com/in4/gentlewolf/unleashed.html
http://www.angelfire.com/in4/gentlewolf/daughterofthedemon.html
http://www.angelfire.com/in4/gentlewolf/hatred.html
http://www.angelfire.com/in4/gentlewolf/background.html

All of the work above can be found here on Writing.com where it's been posted for years.

I'm betting there are more as the last link given above was not included in the list of links I found by Googling the main page. Probably a lot more, seeing how much I write and how much other stuff was on the site.

To whoever created this site, if you're not just some bot that randomly snatches up whatever it finds on the Web: You jerk. How cowardly of you to not even create a main page so that people can contact you to ask you to rightfully remove their work. I don't mind people linking to me--I might have even granted permission for you to post excerpts if you'd only asked--but posting my work without my permission, where it's out there in the world and I have no control over if it's posted or deleted or what, is not only wrong but illegal. If you were so confident you were doing something proper then how come there's no way to contact you? Fitting.

I'd advise anyone else with work here or on the Net to Google some pages from the site to see if your own work is included, since there was a lot of stuff I didn't recognize amongst my own. Seeing the selection of my various works, perhaps they troll sites like Writing.com for their material (though the "Background" page seems to point to GeoCities).

No, I'm not removing my work from the Web. It's pretty obvious what's mine and what's not theirs, and what's done is already done; I can't do anything about it but contact AngelFire, and I know what a lot of good that would do. But they're still an ass.

 

So get this, yesterday I get a review on a middle chapter of Return To Manitou Island. The reviewer tells me, "Charmian (they spelled her name and various other things wrong, BTW) talks like a 21st-century person, she doesn't belong with these tribal people. How do you explain that?"

How do I explain that? I explained that by replying,

"Um...Charmian is a 21st-century person. That's why she talks like that."



This, friends, is why you don't step into the middle of a story and then demand of the author to know what's going on. Like, read the 110 chapters of Manitou Island, and the 36 chapters of RTMI that came before the one that caused such confusion, and that should explain plenty. Just looking at the folder summary of MI would have explained this much. BTW, didn't Charmian's decidedly modern name (amidst names like White Deer and Silver Eagle Feather) tip them off itself...?

They've been online since then and haven't replied to me. I could be jumping the gun posting this, but I imagine I'd feel silly too.

I have yet another cold. I wasn't even over the last one. I'm so tired of colds, and this other problem; it abated somewhat for a while and it was so wonderful feeling almost normal again but it returned last night, and feels like it will hit again tonight, it seems to prefer getting me when I'm trying to sleep. -_- I didn't write today, and I doubt I'll double up on it tomorrow, will likely just lie in the tub for an hour or so and then huddle in my room with The Oxford Book Of Dreams and miss out on writing. I tell myself that it's only temporary, I will get back to writing, and I owe myself some care time, but still, it makes me feel guilty.

I'm loaded up with pseudoephedrine (Gawd, this stuff dopes me out, I was totally stoned on it and diphenhydramine the other day, I think I actually lapsed into a trance) and guaifenesin and Pepto-Bismol (I think I'm swallowing a lot of air along with a lot of mucus, ugh, and I can't use Alka-Seltzer as it's a fluid) so I'd better go now, tar.

 

Typed up earlier today.

Just some brief updates.

The grackle migration must have been yesterday as a great deal of noisy birds passed over. I believe I saw an ovenbird some time back, and I'm fairly certain I've seen a group of white-crowned sparrows--it took me a while to identify them as they're immature birds so the stripes on their heads are rusty brown and gray rather than black and white, but that's the only bird that fits, and the picture of an immature white-crowned sparrow at Wikipedia fits what I saw. There are at least two or three. They too must be passing through. I also saw a tufted titmouse yesterday, which I haven't seen since last year. The grosbeaks seem to have gone but a group of what seem to be female purple finches have (has?) moved in, along with at least three bluejays, and it's quite frustrating trying to keep them away from the feeders. The bluejays are so annoying, all they do is scream and take over the feeders so little birds can't come in to eat. Irritating.

I Googled, "Where do chickadees sleep at night?" as I really wanted to know. I normally don't ask Google questions since it's a search engine, not an answering service--I usually just type in search terms, e. g., "chickadees sleep night"--but I had to try. And damned if it didn't give me an answer. I learned that, at least in winter, they huddle in groups inside trees (well, one site said groups, other sites said singly) and shiver all night to keep warm, then emerge during the day to eat a lot to make up for lost weight. Poor little things. The chickadees and the nuthatches, really, are the only reason I put out food at all. All these other birds are okay but I could honestly do without seeing them more than once in a while, especially the finches, they're such horrid pigs. That includes cardinals--just glorified finches.

A while back the pretty cat that visits our porch was joined by two others--three cats, including one black kitten that looked just like a younger version of Pepper--I was so overjoyed to see them until the next day when one leapt out of the bushes and possibly caught a nuthatch that went flying by. I was so furious. I did everything to keep them away from our porch after that. I haven't seen them since, though I wonder if they're still nearby as I found a lot of feathers scattered on the sidewalk this morning. I'm fairly certain the cats belong to the neighbor who just moved in across the sideroad as twice I've seen the main cat go off into that person's yard, including after I chased it off. God I am so frigging sick of people not caring for their pets. Unless you live way out on a farm, cats should not be allowed to run loose at night or even during the day. Keep the damn things inside, especially if you live on a highway, live near neighbors who have pets of their own, and live in an area with not only bird feeders but LOTS OF WILD ANIMAL ACTIVITY SUCH AS SKUNKS AND RACCOONS WHICH CARRY RABIES AND DISTEMPER! F**king morons in this neighborhood.

I'm glad that at least the chickadees and nuthatches stick around all winter since I need the company. Feeding them gives me a tiny feeling of doing something useful, especially since the chickadees have to eat so much just to stay alive in winter. I could do without the finches and bluejays. Seems every time one intrusive bird moves out, another one moves right in. I get rid of the siskins and end up with grosbeaks; I get rid of the grosbeaks and end up with more finches and bluejays. Ugh. I'm keeping the Feed & Seed in business.

I'm currently reading Teach Yourself Jung--I'm by no means utterly ignorant on the subject, but I've found that it's easier for me to read books ABOUT Jung and his ideas rather than books BY Jung. He's not a bad writer, he's just very longwinded and elaborate and repetitious and hard to follow. I read Aion some time back and I honestly don't remember what it was about. o_o I do remember reading the blurb on the back cover and thinking, "THAT'S what I read about?" Seriously, with most of his work, I'll have a spark of understanding here and there amidst a sea of "WTF?" I think it's just my slow literal brain, though. This book is very good at explaining his main ideas. It talks of course about the role of dreams and how Jung believed that thoughts and ideas have their own external reality apart from those who think them, an idea I myself have had for years, before I started reading his material. I'm trying to take a closer look at some of my own dreams. Reading this book has made me feel even angrier about those morons on the writing forums. How pathetically narrowminded can somebody be. It was even more infuriating as I know this person was not stupid--I'd enjoyed many of their posts before then--but on this subject, they were just so ignorant it was unbelievable. Saying dreams are nothing but "meaningless firings of neurons," so you should really avoid using them in writing, how lame. I wrote a personal essay I might post to my website sometime but haven't yet and here's a point I make:

I know that dreams have often influenced how I think and feel and act throughout the day. The key lies in making a dream an active, rather than a passive, thing. Of course a dream is useless if you just drop it in a story to look pretty or to solve all the problems and then leave it. You have to make it an active part of the story, the same as everything else, in order for it to work. Still, you never hear a newbie writer given the advice, "Don't use scenery/foreshadowing/symbolism/insert writing technique here as it's a weak character-illustration device" just because some writers don't know how to properly use it. Of course not. You hear those writers being advised to learn how to use such techniques properly. So why is it otherwise with dreams? If I use foreshadowing or symbolism or something lousily, would you advise every writer to not use foreshadowing or symbolism or whatever at all? Why are dreams the exception to learning how to use a technique well--why throw the baby out with the bathwater? (FYI, the same attitude prevailed regarding usage of prologues, flashbacks, and italics--just because many writers had done such things poorly, EVERYONE was urged not to use them at all, rather than to learn to use them properly. Strange. Does the blatant misuse of apostrophes in many people's grammar mean we should stop bothering with proper punctuation? The reason most frequently given for avoiding certain otherwise valid techniques was that certain publishers and agents--not all, just certain ones--claimed they despised these techniques--in short, "Some bigwig says they don't like this, so I won't do it." So, is that what all our goals should be aimed at, placating THOSE particular publishers and agents, rather than writing the best stories we can? People on the forum would say of course not, but then their actions contradict this. I'm sure most of them wouldn't advise that somebody who loves writing romance novels should abandon that entirely because a particular agent hates romance novels, but that's exactly the reasoning they're using.)

Honestly. I don't get why dreams are the big bad exception not even worth considering. I can't believe this guy was surprised that I make decisions (including the decision to leave the forum) based on dreams, like nobody in the history of mankind has ever done such a stupid thing. Somebody needs to get out and educate themselves. You know, when you get right down to it, ANY frigging thought that our brains generate, mull over, and then decide upon is just a firing of neurons. It's in what we do or don't do with it that makes it meaningful or meaningless. So some random guy thinks dreams are meaningless, but I think they're meaningful. Doesn't the mere fact that I find them meaningful give them some meaning?

It's like the idea of synchronicity (another Jungian concept). So many people misunderstand this to mean that "There are no coincidences!" That's not what it means at all, at least, based on my (possibly flawed) understanding. Jung states that these things are coincidences--they're not causally related. However, our own minds GIVE them their meaning and MAKE them seem related. Hence synchronistic events aren't related, they're just coincidences, but we ourselves give them their meaning, thus making them meaningful occurrences and taking away the "just." When you look at it just about everything in life is meaningless until we ourselves give it its meaning. Meaning is subjective. Last autumn I spent every day seeking feathers dropped on the ground in a desperate attempt to find some meaning in going on in life--whenever a feather would present itself, it had meaning, telling me it was worth holding on a bit longer. The one or two times I couldn't find a feather I was devastated. Before I left the writing forum for good, I went to sleep, and had a dream that nobody there would miss me. That decided me, and nobody has missed me. Do I believe the birds were dropping feathers for me on purpose, or that some divinely inspired dream told me to leave the writing forum? Not really. The mere act of finding feathers on the ground, or of having a dream obviously based on current events, are meaningless events in themselves, but my mind GAVE them their meaning, thus making them meaningful. So just about everything is a "meaningless firing of neurons" until we act upon it. Making this guy's argument incredibly ignorant.

The very phrase "sleep on it" is based on Iroquois tradition of sleeping on an issue before making an important decision.

Anyway moving on.

I just browsed the prologue and first chapter of Angels & Demons and it is frigging scary how similar my style is to Dan Brown's. I'm not flattering myself, because honestly, it's not a fantastic literary style. In fact it made me want to laugh, it was so goofy. He used an exclamation where there "should" have been a question mark. There were lots of exclamation marks because there was lots of exclaiming! And italics. And a silly melodramatic prologue--cripes, the whole first chapter was melodramatic. And a character being a bit dense (Langdon having to turn the "Illuminati" sign upside-down and rightside-up several times and gasp over it in astonishment, it's the same both ways, ZOMG!). And the mere fact that there is a prologue in the first place. And the first chapter--get this--STARTS OUT WITH THE MAIN CHARACTER DREAMING. ! No wonder the snobs on the writing forum hate Dan Brown so much. I have yet to see if the dream has any bearing on the actual plot and won't find out for ages as I have other books to read, though honestly, even if it has no relation to the plot, it doesn't bother me enough to throw the book down in disgust, and apparently, all this stuff didn't bother the publisher, either. No, Dan Brown is not high literature. But he got published, and got movies of his work made, and other people wrote books about his books, and scads of people enjoy his work, even if, like me, they might be thinking, "ZOMG this is goofy!"--because some of us really don't care if not everything we read is high literature. Sometimes people just want something fun and goofy to read. I make no pretenses of being a fantastic literary writer. It'd be great for my work to become literature someday, but face it, how many people like to relax by settling down with a good juicy copy of War & Peace? I want to be entertaining first off, and if that means being goofy and melodramatic, then so be it. Browsing Angels & Demons made me nearly laugh as it looked like I could have written it in my D4D series, honestly. And yes, my D4D series, though intended to be serious, on the inside makes me giggle because it's so silly. Reincarnated saints! Necklaces with healing powers! Evil nationwide Satanic cults! Come on. Seriously.

I had a dream a while back in which Dan Brown (a sort of imaginary stand-in for him, at least) was agreeing on the similarity between our works, ha ha. http://www.dreamjournal.net/index.cfm/do/journal.getdream/dream_id/137191

So...I can't think of a concluding comment for all that. I guess it all speaks for itself. *shrug*

My issues haven't been acting up as much lately, but that usually just means they're going to come back even worse than before. Seeing as the last time they really acted up it lasted for like 24 hours, I take it this time will be a particularly bad one. -_- Even when it's not "really" acting up I'm still putting out more fluid than I'm taking in, without losing weight (and still seeming bloated--maybe I've just gained some real weight, though I'm not sure how or why). E. g. the other day I was putting out about a third of a cup of fluid every hour--to me, around 1/4 cup seems most tolerable--when as you already know I only drink about 3 cups of fluid at most a day--so I should have lost ALL the fluids I took in within nine hours, yet I didn't, it keeps coming. And I know there's water in the foods I eat but it's not like I'm sitting here eating soup all the time--in fact, I've been avoiding liquidy foods. I'm back to taking sleeping pills like I did in college to try to make it through the nights better though if my bladder fills up too fast, it still wakes me up or keeps me awake, at best I can just hope to get so tired I manage to doze off for a half hour or so. And now I even dream about urinating all the time. I have an appointment to see a urologist on the 14th. I'm pissed (eh, no pun intended, Jeez) because I went to the trouble of picking a female doctor in case I needed an examination, then she does the barest amount of work before shuttling me off to a male doctor. What was the point of that? This is so stupid. I filled out a list of questions he sent me and mailed it off (including, "How would you feel if you had to live with this urinary problem the rest of your life?"--I circled the answer, "Terrible") but know he's not going to find anything wrong either. I just hope it gets over with fast and I maybe get shuttled along to somebody who CAN find out what's wrong...though probably not...I imagine I'll be shuttled to a gynecologist next, then maybe somebody who studies the kidneys, then maybe an endocrinologist or something, whatever. If there are even such specialists available in northern Michigan, which there probably aren't. I fully believe this is a glandular problem so nobody will find out anything looking at my bladder or kidneys or female parts. So frustrating. I feel like I've jinxed it just saying this much and now nobody will find out anything at all. -_- I hate the thought of my parents having to take me to, say, Traverse City or Detroit or Chicago just to figure out that nobody can figure it out. God I hope it never gets that bad. We can't afford to go that far just to find out what's wrong with me.

Holy crud, the sun actually came out a little bit today. Amazing.

Looks like I spoke too soon on two matters. It's starting to act up, and I just had to go out and scare the black Pepperlike cat away as it started slinking into our yard. It went scurrying right back--into the neighbor's yard. F**king a**holes, why do you even have cats you neglect so they have to come over here and eat my birds.

Have to go now, tar.