Whimper... update about the dog and also Female TMI time.

First off, thank you for the good thoughts about Colonel Brandon. Unfortunately, after making us wait an extra day because of some lab issues, the Lady Vet called on Saturday and told Captain that the blood work came back indicating they need to do the Cushing's tests.

I'm told that does not mean he has Cushing's, but the possibility is there and likely. So, we started to schedule that for today, then realized that we should probably wait until his biopsy results come in first.

Which sort of sounds heartless, but if he does have Cushing's a few extra days before discussing treatments are not going to be life threatening and Colonel Brandon is not in any pain or impaired in any way at the moment - which are my two biggest concerns. However, the tests are expensive and if the worst happens and his biopsy comes back as cancerous, I'd rather have that money available for any decisions that have to be made at that time.

Stop reading here if you do not wish to read about the current trials of my uterus.

Second, I'm currently bent over my keyboard like some sort of freakish contortionist, desperately trying to find a position that will alleviate some of the cramping in my back and girly bits because today is a Bad Cycle Day.

I should be thankful that every cycle is not a Bad Cycle anymore (I distinctly remember wanting to die on a fairly regular basis once I hit puberty and my cycle kicked in) but now it only seems to hit every three or four months... so yay for that.

Also, the really nasty part seems to be confined to a small three to six hour spurt of torture on the second or third day, when things really get moving. Last time was right around when I was at the hospital (every other damn day) because of the cellulitus and ended up being pushed into the ER by the helpful lady at the pharmacy counter who thought I was dying. I wish.

I woke up this morning about fifteen minutes before Captain's four am alarm went off and managed to discover Midol in the bathroom (serious WOOT) because I was clearly thinking ahead at some point in the last few months, and then I ran the hottest water I could stand, shoved a wadded up towel under my head for a pillow and pretty much passed out on my side in the tub. I remember Captain sneaking in to get his razor and me telling him it was perfectly fine to go ahead and shave, and I was just going to lie there and try not to drown while I hugged the side of the tub and periodically refreshed the hot water.

I have no idea when I crawled back into bed, dragging a barf bowl with me, but I did and then I got up around noon and now I've taken my second does of Midol for the day and am hoping that by the time this one wears off I will be able to pretend I'm a functioning member of society once more.

It is good to have goals.

At least the cramps take my mind off the dog.

Whimper... update about the dog and also Female TMI time.

First off, thank you for the good thoughts about Colonel Brandon. Unfortunately, after making us wait an extra day because of some lab issues, the Lady Vet called on Saturday and told Captain that the blood work came back indicating they need to do the Cushing's tests.

I'm told that does not mean he has Cushing's, but the possibility is there and likely. So, we started to schedule that for today, then realized that we should probably wait until his biopsy results come in first.

Which sort of sounds heartless, but if he does have Cushing's a few extra days before discussing treatments are not going to be life threatening and Colonel Brandon is not in any pain or impaired in any way at the moment - which are my two biggest concerns. However, the tests are expensive and if the worst happens and his biopsy comes back as cancerous, I'd rather have that money available for any decisions that have to be made at that time.

Stop reading here if you do not wish to read about the current trials of my uterus.

Second, I'm currently bent over my keyboard like some sort of freakish contortionist, desperately trying to find a position that will alleviate some of the cramping in my back and girly bits because today is a Bad Cycle Day.

I should be thankful that every cycle is not a Bad Cycle anymore (I distinctly remember wanting to die on a fairly regular basis once I hit puberty and my cycle kicked in) but now it only seems to hit every three or four months... so yay for that.

Also, the really nasty part seems to be confined to a small three to six hour spurt of torture on the second or third day, when things really get moving. Last time was right around when I was at the hospital (every other damn day) because of the cellulitus and ended up being pushed into the ER by the helpful lady at the pharmacy counter who thought I was dying. I wish.

I woke up this morning about fifteen minutes before Captain's four am alarm went off and managed to discover Midol in the bathroom (serious WOOT) because I was clearly thinking ahead at some point in the last few months, and then I ran the hottest water I could stand, shoved a wadded up towel under my head for a pillow and pretty much passed out on my side in the tub. I remember Captain sneaking in to get his razor and me telling him it was perfectly fine to go ahead and shave, and I was just going to lie there and try not to drown while I hugged the side of the tub and periodically refreshed the hot water.

I have no idea when I crawled back into bed, dragging a barf bowl with me, but I did and then I got up around noon and now I've taken my second does of Midol for the day and am hoping that by the time this one wears off I will be able to pretend I'm a functioning member of society once more.

It is good to have goals.

At least the cramps take my mind off the dog.