Time flies

I know nobody reads blogs anymore, and I have always blogged for myself anyway, so here goes.

New adventures and journeys.

Since checking in with this blog last, I have finally finished that pesky college degree, Moved 1200 miles away to tiny little Kitsap County in WA and started a new career.

I live by myself in a cute little 2 bedroom apartment that my friend envies because my kitchen is better than hers and she is a homeowner. I have no clue why I have the second bedroom since I don't need it at this time, but it is cheaper than the other places I looked at and I really like it. This apartment is in a little town that is seriously convinced that it is a Norwegian territory, they don't even celebrate the 4th of July on the 4th!

 I am a mailman except not a man, a job that is way more difficult than most assume. I recently traded the position I had as a city carrier that would have most likely meant I would be transferred to Seattle and would mean either a very expensive ferry commute or a move, for a position as a rural carrier Associate. This one is taking a bit of faith. I am only guaranteed one- two days of work a week, which is definitely not enough to pay the bills, but I didn't make this change without serious thought and prayers for direction. I do believe that it is all going to work out, and if it doesn't that God has bigger plans in store for me.

 I think I decided to restart the blog because I want a place to record my thoughts on a few more serious health things, but if you've read my blog before you know I am a random person. Be forewarned I use the word ovaries and the word breast, if that makes you squeamish back out now.

Chapter 1: The Toe

A little more than a month ago, I developed a gnarly blister on my "pointer" toe. I had done a lot of downhill walking the day before and I assumed it would go away as it healed. After about a week it developed into an open wound and became an ulcer, when it started being red and oozy I made a hasty decision to go to the doctor. I haven't had the best of luck with doctors since moving up here, so I went to the clinic that was on my route and made an appointment to be seen that afternoon. They got me an appointment with a doctor that I hadn't seen before.

Here is where I will get real with everyone. I had never been to a doctor that does doctoring so well. I am afraid of both doctors and needles. I told the very nice nurse lady that as soon as I walked in the door. When the doctor came in he asked me a bajillion questions that helps him get an idea of where his patients are at. He looked at my toe, and said the more professional equivalent of Wtf. He asked me if I was diabetic and I said not that I was aware of. We discussed that it was very likely a pressure wound from my shoes that I wear for work, and he told me to never wear the "torture shoes" again. He really wanted to have blood drawn that day but respectful of the fact that I am afraid of it all, asked me to think about it and maybe next time I will let them test my blood. He also asks me if I am ready for a mammogram to which I tell him I have 2 more years before it is recommended that I get one (baseline at 35 if you have a strong family history) and he will not get to "send the girls off to be squished early without a good reason".

Two weeks later and facing an imminent end of my insurance due to the career change and not a hundred percent positive on how my toe is doing I make a followup appointment. Good news! The wound isn't infected anymore and is closed. The bad news, my toe thinks it is in need of extra protection from its latest battle and has decided to grow a super thick callous that is almost hornlike over it. He asks me if I would let him debride it, and of course my reaction is, is it going to hurt? Assured that it shouldn't I say okay. Then he pulls a freaking exacto-knife looking thing out of the cupboard and I immediately decide that it was a terrible idea to say yes.

 Let's pause: I know that debriding callouses can not be anyone's idea of fun. But this doctor didn't pawn the job off on anyone else. He could have, he's in a large clinic with lots of people including a nurse who is a wound specialist. He then proceeds to spend a half hour patiently and gently cutting the end of my toe off.

I've cried a handful of times over the toe situation. 3 of those times were due to the thoughtfulness and kindness of this doctor and his staff. One of those times was a spiritual revelation in regards to how I was being treated (that story is for later) The rest were all stress.

Long story short: Too Late! (Name that movie!)

When he is done, he rechecks my blood pressure (we do it at the end because it is a happier number then) It is still high :/ Then he sits down and look at his laptop which is brilliant, my chart is there and he looks through the notes from my last visit and does a small bit of research. He turns around and then lays it all out on the table. He really wants my blood. He wants to rule out diabetes based on family history and the toe, it is a concern, the elevated blood pressure is worrysome, and based on a handful of other observations he thinks I have Polycystic Ovaries. He also wants my cholesterol levels and thyroid function and some other gobeldygook checked. Ultimately it is my decision whether or not I let him send me to the lab, but seeing as how I have spent the last two weeks trying to convince myself that it is better to know than not, I say yes. We talk thru some prescription ideas and he tells me that blood pressure meds are in order, I reluctantly agree and I let him put me on oral contraceptives (after discussing the repercussion of oral contraceptives for someone with an already elevated risk of breast cancer) for the PCOS (ovaries). But I decide to put on my big girl panties and head to the lab.

Flash Forward to this Week:

I have been obsessively checking my online chart for updates, and finally Wednesday morning it appears as updated (although my labs are still not posted :/) I am NOT diabetic. Next to the words Family History of Diabetes Mellitus is the small word UNCHANGED. I almost cry with relief. This was by far the biggest stress for me.  I know how to eat healthier, but it is a bit freeing to be able to enjoy the occasional treat without having to feel as though I am going to accidentally kill myself.

PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) is a definite diagnosis. This both troubles me and it doesn't (and definitely calls for a blog entry of its own)

 Hypertension is added.

 The last problem added to my chart is by far the easiest one for me to do something about. OBESITY. Anyone who knows me at all knows I have an "Ummm, Duh" reaction to anyone telling me I am obese. But I have reached a point where I actually want to take care of my health. I don't know if it is because I have finally grown up in this area, or if it is because I finally found a doctor I trust, but I want to be healthier. Bonus points for looking better, but that is seriously the least of my concerns.

If I can lose 31 pounds I will no longer be considered obese, but merely overweight, something that has not been true since I was a child (somewhere between 8 and 11) So that is my goal. I guarantee that when I reach this goal I will cry and it will not be pretty. And then I will set another goal.

The toe looks better after its mini surgery and I have instructions to file it and put cream on it every day until the thick skin is better. Yes, file it with an emery board. Me, the girl who has feet so sensitive I have kicked 2 different pedicurists in the head (by accident I assure you)

 I start my new job tomorrow. Only slightly nervous.

And that's an update.