Summer of Suck 2.0 – Part Seven: White Knuckles

Tomorrow morning I will walk to the subway, hoping no one jostles me and hoping that I don’t see anyone I know. I will wish for a cloak of invisibility.

My worst nightmare, only for tomorrow, is getting mugged. I’m worried about muggings not because that sort of thing is common in Williamsburg (not at all), but because tomorrow, for one day only, I will be carrying a large orange jug full of twenty-four hours’ worth of my own urine with me like some kind of psycho.

Jug 20160901_204326

I still have to figure out how to actually carry the filled jug. Using a brown paper shopping, like when I picked it up, will not be an option. Too heavy (sorry. So gross.). I suppose one of my many drawstring bags from past events will have to be sacrificed for the cause, to be unceremoniously disposed of later when the job is done.


 

Otherwise, it’s status quo around here. Things are dull. I wouldn’t say “normal” because there’s nothing normal about this type of anticipation. But not much is happening.

I have a follow-up appointment Thursday regarding my finger. It hurts each morning when I first wake up, but improves throughout the course of the day. My hope is that the doctor pronounces this as expected because I really don’t want to start another course of antibiotics.

Tomorrow I should also hear the results of my second round of hormone-focused blood work. Round one was “mostly normal?” Yeah, the question mark is the sound of Dr. E’s voice each time we discuss the findings. Only my cortisol was slightly off–just slightly enough that I had to have a three or four more vials of blood drawn yesterday.

Just a reminder: the results of the blood work won’t provide a diagnosis, only a treatment plan as far as the need to replace hormones (or not).

On Friday, I am scheduled to have my pre-op physical. The hospital told me to expect it to take up to two hours so I’m thinking of using a vacation day for that plus a trip to the DMV. Might as well stack the drudgery, right?

My drivers’ license expires on my birthday and NYS now requires a fresh vision test either at the DMV or at a participating optometrist. Between that, my desire for a new license photo, the need to update my address (oops, I’m late) and the fact that I’ll be recovering from surgery when it expires, now seems like the time to do it.

With one exception, I feel like I am managing my new reality a bit better since getting the relative certainty of a surgery date. Having the date in mind, has given me a clear timeline of what needs to get done and by what day.

But I can’t sleep much at night and that’s a drag. My mind won’t rest, wondering about what it will all be like: the incisions, that lousy feeling of being awakened from general anesthesia when all you want to do is rest, the pain, the diagnosis and what comes next. One of my doctors prescribed Klonopin and while I filled it, I haven’t leaned on it much so far. But perhaps now is the time.

 

Summer of Suck 2.0 FAQs

Good food: Lilia in Williamsburg, Brooklyn

I told you I had dined in two great restaurants here. In reality, there were more – lots more – but three of the most memorable of late are these: Market TableAntica Pesa (more on this one soon) and Lilia.

There is a lot of hype about Lilia. Chef/owner Missy Robbins was reportedly President Obama’s favorite chef based on her work at Spiaggia* in Chicago. She could have opened her first restaurant virtually anywhere but chose my neighborhood. Lucky us.

Lilia Snapchat-8849560280144458921

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Remember when I said I needed a new bed?

I don’t use phrases like feng shui often, but here am I, thinking about it in relation to my bedroom.

Something hasn’t feel right in the boudoir since I moved in. I love my new apartment, but the bedroom arrangement and styling attention. The room feels cramped; the worst part being that I have just six or seven inches between the end of my queen size bed and ancient dresser, both from Crate and Barrel.

tate-bed

My bedroom is also way, way too bright most mornings (and some afternoons too when I feel like being lazy). I need to add room-darkening curtains to the existing shades that came with the apartment.

With my upcoming surgery, I am going to be spending more time in my bedroom. I want it to feel as good as possible. Continue reading

Summer of Suck 2.0 – Part Six: A Horrible Digression

So there I was, Marc Jacobs in one hand, orange urine collection jug in the other, when I decided some Kitten Therapy was in order.

Baby cats IMG_20160813_161452

Beyond the fact that I was feeling low in spite of efforts to shop my way out of my bad mood, it was hot as hell. PS9 is air-conditioned as well as on my way home from the spot where Uber Pool dropped me off. Stopping in for a visit seemed like an easy call. Continue reading

Summer of Suck 2.0 – Part Five: The Giant Jug

If you’re just tuning in, start here.

As news of my adrenal mass started to sink in, I realized it was time to start making plans. I drafted Mom to take care of me (obviously) for the period when I’ll be in the hospital for surgery and immediately after, and I thought about how to tell the people at work. Knowing that I will be out of commission post-op for four to six weeks, I made plans for some essential business travel.

So there I was in Los Angeles, one of my favorite places. It was a productive trip with lots of meetings and a little fun in the form of attending After Paradise again (thanks Millsy!). I met two charming ladies, Catherine Giudici Lowe and Katie Lowes of Scandal, and one handsome man, Samuel Lowe.

 

He’s so cute!

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Summer of Suck 2.0 – Breaking News

I have a surgery date: Wednesday, September 21.

That date is contingent upon me having all of the necessary pre-op tests and passing them, but September 21 is the plan.

im-scared

Via Hexjam

Truth be told, I’m a little scared. OK, a lot scared and I’m not used to feeling this way. Most of my time, I feel very que sera, sera. But this is too serious for that.

Part Five is coming soon – promise. I have been sick and attempting to get as much rest as possible.

On a much lighter note, I got a sweet surprise in the mail

In the midst of this mess, my friend Eimear who is so wonderful and strong, sent me this wonderful treat: a Tata Harper Try Me Kit.

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Eimear and I met through Twitter (although she’s on hiatus now) and she has done some guest posts here. I hate to imagine a Twitter-less world because there’s virtually no way Eimear and I would have crossed paths. She isn’t just a kind, fiercely supportive friend–she’s also kind of my skincare guru as I work hard to become higher maintenance. Continue reading