catheroominations

I found this on Jenni’s blog. Guess I’m in a mood to eat junk food and get pampered!

I spent six hours in the Stanford University Hospital Emergency Room last night. At about 3:30 or so yesterday, I was struck with a horrible headache. It came out of the blue, and was excruciatingly painful. I assumed the fetal position while Matte did some research online. He found descriptions of “thunderclap headaches” and “subarachnoid hemorrhages” (SAH) and other such unpleasantries. Sure, I’ve had headaches before, but not the kind that just sort of attack like that. We decided to play it on the safe side, and went to urgent care.

keep reading Not my idea of a fun Saturday night

Jenni tagged me for this meme awhile back and I am just now getting around to doing it.

Rules: Each player of this game starts off with ten weird things, habits or little known facts about themselves. People who get tagged must write in a blog of their own ten weird things, habits or little known facts, as well as state this rule clearly. At the end you must choose six people to be tagged and list their names.

1. I don’t like the Beatles. I know they had much to do with music today, so I feel a little guilty about not liking them. If a Beatles song comes on the radio, I will switch the station. Every time.
2. I can eat an entire bag of chocolate chips in one sitting. This has not been proven, I just am highly confident in myself my ability to inhale a whole bag.
3. I grew up in a TV-watching family and have always been a huge fan of the b00b tube. I was so enamored with TV and the stars I watched on it that I ran away to live with Sonny & Cher when I was little. I didn’t get very far though.
4. I have always thought I am fat. Even when I was anorexic with a big lollipop head, wearing GAP Kids pants, I thought I was fat then too.
5. I have had my identity stolen. Twice. I think the second time it happened was by someone finding something I did not shred and threw in our apartment dumpster. There was an old lady in the complex who would sift through the recycling and I fancied her an innocent victim, tricked by her evil grandchildren who convinced her that she was a vigilante, protecting people like me (from people like them) by removing personal data from our dumpsters.
6. I have never broken a bone or had major surgery.
7. I have been told I resemble Sally Field, Katie Couric, Britney Spears, and Natalie Maines, but really, I’d much prefer to have their paychecks than their looks.
8. I have always wanted to go to the Oscars, and would kill to be a seat filler. If they sat me next to Kevin Spacey, I would need a drool bucket.
9. I think it’s annoying that it is perfectly acceptable to want to have kids, even lots of kids. But if you don’t want any, it’s like you’re a freak. To me, it’s just as much a personal choice not to want children as it is to have them.
10. I don’t have 10 things that are weird about me. (Matte thought up that one.)

Now, who to tag? You. I’m tagging you. If you’re reading this, consider yourself tagged. Go. Do some soul-searching. I’ll be over here eating chocolate chips.

Today I forgot to:

Put on antiperspirant
Put on perfume
Put on my watch

Now I reek*, and I don’t know what time it is.

*I don’t really smell bad, I just smell like nothing. I’m not my usually floral self.

I have missed bootcamp all this week. For one thing, I was fighting off a cold earlier in the week and didn’t feel up to it. But the main reason I’m playing hooky is that there’s some funky stuff happening with my heart rate when I work out. I wear a heart rate monitor when I exercise, and I’m glad I do, so I can see what’s going on. It has been reaching 185, which freaks me out a little. I know I’m not in crazy good shape, but it seems a bit extreme to have a heart rate that high when I don’t feel like I’m overexerting myself at all.

I talked to my trainer about my concerns and she suggested I wear the monitor at home, when I’m basically at rest and see what my resting heart rate is. It’s pretty normal…high 60s to low 70s.

Of more concern to me than the heart rate is some pain I have in my chest. It’s on the right side, which is not usually a sign of cardiac issues, thankfully. But the pain is sharp, like the feeling you get if you swallow a triangular-shaped tortilla chip that isn’t entirely chewed. You know that feeling? Yeah. Sharp pain in chest is kind of freaky. So this combined with the exaggerated heart rate, I thought it best to see the doctor.

So today I did. (I’m fine, really.)

I described my pain to the doctor and judging from my symptoms, she thought it was a pulled muscle. She poked and prodded and when she touched that spot, it hurt, like when you touch a pulled muscle. Sort of bruise-y. She also checked my lung capacity, making me exhale as much as I could through a tube. I passed the test.

She clipped the oxygen thingee to my finger and it showed 100%. I aced that test.

The next step was an ECG (EKG). Never had one of those before. Exciting! The doctor had the technician come in, and why couldn’t it be Dr. McDreamy? Because, well. I had to be sort of naked on top. The nice lady stuck stickers here and there (“and do you have to stick one there?”) and then clipped the clippy things to the stickers and reviewed the paper that the machine spit out. (I am so hip to the medical terminology.)

I passed that test too.

Next week, I’m doing a treadmill test to see if my heart rate is within regular limits. According to my doctor, my current rapid heart rate during exercise could be due to “deconditioning.” OK. the good doctor is too polite. What she’s saying is that I am out of shape. Or at least not at the level of in-shapeness that this insane bootcamp workout requires. As I continue to work out, my heartrate should drop to less scary levels and all will be good in the ‘hood.

Just knowing that the chest pain is merely a pulled muscle, makes it not hurt so much now.

And I appreciate the way he shows his appreciation.

This was sent in my Christmas cards:

The Night Before Christmas
(a parody)
© 2003 Catheroo

‘Twas the night before Christmas and at Chez (my lastname)
The two creatures weren’t stirring, those cute balls of fur.
Jasper was snoozing, dreaming in his cat tree.
Daphne was twisted like a feline yogi.

I was nestled, warm and snug in my bed,
While visions of bachelors danced in my head.
(Even without a kerchief or sleeping cap,
I still settled down for a long winter’s nap.)

When all of a sudden, I heard such a loud noise,
I looked out the window and saw hundreds of boys!
And what more with my wondering eyes did I see,
Santa Claus was there, playing matchmaker for me.

After a trip to the mirror to check my hair,
I opened the door to see who was out there.
The moon was so full; the stars shone so bright.
I scanned the crowd. Would I find Mr. Right?

An elf stood by Santa, holding a clipboard.
I knew he was there to help sort through the hoard.
St. Nick had to check before letting me mingle,
He was choosing those who were straight first, then single.

As Santa sent many a-suitor away,
I worried that all of the best ones were gay.
I waited there, grinning like the Cheshire Cat,
From afar, came a beep, and I thought, “what was that?”

The crowd became smaller, quickly dwindling down,
The beep became louder, what a bothersome sound!
At last, one remained, one stood out from the rest.
Santa had done it, he had found me the best.

Anxious and nervous, my heart a-thump-thumping,
“Oh no!” I suddenly realized something.
That beep, that sound that refused to let up,
It meant it was time for me to get up.