Kidding season is baring down on me. We clipped about half the milkers today. Tomorrow we'll catch the skitzy ones and get them done. We did manage to get all the kids caught and clipped and it looks like one might go down the road with the "not bred" does. She's young, but pfft I just don't need her. She might be due late, but whatever hasn't kidded by the end of March, and doesn't look close by then... is hitting the auction trailer.

I am tentatively willing to say I think my one and only AI stuck. Though I thought she came back in heat, it seems she's going to kid on her AI date. She'll make a liar of me and fill her udder a month early just to screw with my mind.

Other than that it's a crap shoot from now till the end of march. I pen bred and have dates for all but 4 of the does, those are all the kids I bred to one buck, all penned in the same pen I can't see in from the barn. Out of 21 breeding that's not so bad.

My mom went back to the DR today. SHOCK! I haven't heard what they said so will call her later.

I have plans to do 10 days of IV antibiotics at home the end of this month to the beginning of next month. Other than that I am still in the testing phase. I'm holding off on all further tests until I get these anti-s done. My arm had to heal from the last tests before we could have a port put in for the antibiotics, which is why I'm not doing these over this week off. My arm finally has healed, now it just looks stained where the hematoma was. Heat and ice helped immensely.

Friday was to be a fairly easy day appointment wise because I ran all over yesterday to make it that way. The only test I had for this day was the Right Heart Catherization. This is were they thread a wire through my vein to my heart to measure the pressures there and test its strength. I was only having to have the right side tested, so this should be easy. The only part of this test that had me nervous was the sedative as I have never been sedated for anything. I have no idea how I’ll react, and since I’m allergic to just about everything short of water, I wasn’t looking forward to it at all. Plus I had been warned it would require anywhere from 4 to 8 hours of recovery time. In case you havn’t noticed from reading here, I don’t do lie around and wait well.

Since my 24 hour test had been such a fail yesterday I was told I could check in at the hospital at 7 am, which to me screamed GO HOME 2 HOURS EARLIER, so we were hot on that and arrived at the admitting room at 7am! It was colder than a refrigerator in there. They were reconstructing the area and I don’t think there were any walls at all behind that plastic. From admitting (Do you have your 250 deductible? Oh lady trust me, that’s covered, I had a 3000 prescription arrive at my door two days ago!), we headed up to the cardiac unit for the test. From the fridge to the frying pan. It was like a 40 degree temp jump on the elevator ride up. Mind you this whole time I’m carrying this green bag, the type you can get at most stores this day to bring home your groceries and be all eco-friendly, in it I’m packing my wallet, nebulizer and meds, and a gallon jug of urine. I’ll give a second to let that sink in.

Recovered?

So at some point I need to drop this at a lab. I have the grand idea I’ll try to talk the nurse I get into it. Nothing says How are you today like asking someone to walk around carrying a jug of your urine. At least I sealed it up in a plastic bag, sheesh!

We check into the waiting area and wait to get called back into the “holding area”. My nurse comes to get me, and he’s very formal. Frankly he’s a little bitch and I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to try really hard not the eat him alive. He turns me into the bathroom and gives me the gown speech and the “how to properly lock the door” speech, and today I don’t bother to hurry him along. I learned my lesson yesterday; I just tune him out instead.

I’m into a bed before 8am. Doctors start to pour by and I’m just not paying much attention. All the while my nurse, Brad, is hooking me up to heart monitors, blood pressure cuffs, and his sidekick gets the job of handing off the “bag”. Once she comes back she gets to hook up my regular IV, for fluids and the sedative. At this point one doctor decides they are going to try to get this done through an arm vein and not my neck. This makes me happy, he also tells me it’s exactly the same procedure as when they set my port lines for the IV’s I normally have. So I question the sedative and he says I shouldn’t need it! YEAH! This means I get to go home as soon as they are done!

Brad and I are yakking about their unit goals and teasing around, he’s really a nice guy. He prepped my neck for an IV with lidocane just in case, this is important later. Totally gay, but really sweet and not the complete bitch I thought he was going to be.

Now, Brad, gets to set the IV into a larger vein for them to switch out for a catheter in the procedure room. He nails it no problem in the big vein in my elbow of my right arm. (Keep notes on this folks, you’ll loose track soon.) He’s flushing it with fluid and can’t get the syringe unscrewed, and I can’t help him because he’s holding down my good arm. While we wait for the unit head to come over to help him, he explains that he doesn’t have any grip in that hand from surgery that he had to have after saving a patients life holding off an aterial bleed for 45 minutes, resulting in nerve damage in his wrist. Suddenly I’m pretty happy to have him as my nurse. This also explains his tick. He does this hand wave, finger flex, wrist twirl that I really thought was just his tick, turns out it’s because his hand is numb.

Now we wait. I had to wait for someone else to be done before they can start me, so they go get Bill, and I send him off for breakfast and to chill for a while, but let him know we won’t have to be there as long, YEAH!

Another nurse comes to get me at about 9 and we walk back to the procedure room. They lay me out on the slab and ask me if I’d like any happy juice and I decline, the IV is in dude, the worst is over………

In come the two wanna be doctors who are going to do the procdure. They look like they are about 12 and 13. I’m good with that, the hard stuff is done, all the have to do is follow the lines. So they switch out the IV for a catheter, which is not a job done without pain, but it’s manageable. In goes a wire guide. I can feel it go through my shoulder and I tell them that, and they say, “You shouldn’t be able to feel that!?”, umm sorry… I can? I tell them where the end currently is, and they both get rather quite and say, um, wow, she shouldn’t be able to tell that. Again, sorry, but I can. And Oh, SHE isn’t sedated, and SHE can HEAR YOU. They root around in there for a few minutes and conclude that the vein is occluded and they need to set another IV.

In comes supervising doctor, because tweedle dee and dum aren’t sure how to proceed. Another vein, into the neck…. One of the two is holding pressure on my arm where they took out the catheter, and saying to the others, Um, she’s still bleeding, A-Lot.

Again, NOT SEDATED!

And, you don’t have to whisper I can feel the blood.

So he tries small talk instead. I tell them not to worry they are doing fine, I’m fine, go ahead and try for another. Super doctor thinks they should try a vein in that same arm and use ultrasound to be sure it’s not occluded.

One of them drew the short straw and trys to set another IV, while the other one holds pressure on my arm that’s still gushing blood. There is a lot of, right there, no little more, no back out, forward, to the left, right there, no too far. Then the debate is on as to how to hold the IV in place, as it’s barely in the vein, and sterilize the area, while one holds the IV. Turns out they can’t do it, and they lose that spot too. So the other one trys. About 2” below where the first one had, thinking the problem was that the IV needle was too short for the area of my arm that they were trying to access. I suggest a longer needle while they are cleaning up and getting ready to start again. You know, mostly to remind them NOT SEDATED!

That one? Fail. He rooted around and came up with what appeared to be a good stick, but by the time they sterilized everything, it was occluded. More consult, what to do, where to go now....

Now super Doctor says switch to the other arm, and we’ll have a nurse set the IV by ultrasound. Best damn idea all day. Plus he swung by my head to offer happy juice again. I decline again. I’m no martyr, I am just really freaked about the sedative and would rather deal with the pain. Which really isn’t all that bad at the time. I mean I didn’t cry at all. After having someone try, and fail, to shove a catheter up your nose, this is a freakin’ cakewalk. Super nurse comes in, nails the IV and we FINALLY get a good stick that isn’t in a vein that’s shot.

It takes appox. 15 minutes to get the data they needed. I’m making them a little nervous by telling them where the wire/balloon is the whole time. They blocked the screen thinking I was looking, until the nurse told them my eye were closed anyway. Haha. Poor guys. I bet they hope all their future patients are nicely sedated. I did joke with them at one point that they probably wished I had been sedated.

My nurse helps me sit up and the room takes a spin around me. Lying flat on my back on a hard table for 2 hours had done in my vertigo, not to mention I had no feeling in my legs or feet. We head back to the “holding” area and plunk me in a bed. Looks like I get to rest for a while after all. My neck is itching like bitch, my stomach is lurchy,, and my head is loopy. One of the nurses grabs me a jello like product in a color that isn’t anything close to orange and I eat that. That settles the tummy and will eventually help the head. They let me get dressed, pull out the fluid IV, cut my tags, and let me free! Well, actually Willy Wong (no shit I can’t make that crap up) gets the honor of wheeling me out. Good thing I was sitting on the elevator!

On the drive home I find I have 6 bruises from IV attempts or blood draws, my neck is swollen and itchy from the lidocane (I’m allergic, goody!), my torso is broke out in a rash (I’m allergic to the contrast dye too!!), and the two spots where Dee and Dum tried to put in my IV are already black. Like BLACK BLACK, and the size of a golf ball.

I didn’t take a picture of those two but they look like eyeballs. Black ones. The really weird part is this bruise is it will “take” a pattern. While I was sleeping the bruise took on the pattern of the wrinkles of my pillowcase.

Inquiring minds want to know

We left on Wednesday for my 2 day trip to San Fran for testing, which means 3 days away from home. We left the critters here in the care of my mother and son and I (god help me) took Bill with me, because they said I'd need a driver home after the last test.

We stayed in Mill Valley which is this little quaint old historic mill town just this side of SF. The motel was about half of what I would have spent in the city and I probably drove less time getting from there to the hospital than I would have if I had actually stayed IN the city. Our motel room was HUGE, but upstairs, which sucked with the unlit walkways at 6 AM each morning.

The first day of testing was lab work first thing in the AM, with the lab tech who wasn't thrilled that I could have cared less about her "talk" about the proper way to take a urine sample. Lady, this isn't my first rodeo, save the sweet talk. When I tried to rush her through her little speech she says "I'm trying to make sure you're not confused!" (she was oriental with a think accent, I'm not sure which of us she was trying to direct) I'm pretty sure at that point I rolled my eyes... but I TRIED really hard NOT to. Isn't it all about the effort?

Once the vampire drew her 13 (yes really 13) vials of blood we were off to have hoses crammed where they just don't belong. Luckily all of my tests this day, with the exception of one add on were in one building, this saved on my lung function and made for a MUCH easier day.

Up to the 6th floor to the GI clinic to have a 24 hour acid test and a Esophageal blah blah blah test. Hey, I take the tests, I don't memorize the names. Nor do I remember the names of doctors or techs or nurses. This may seem rude to them but I see so many, and most only once ever, I just don't bother. My mind has enough clutter, really. The VERY nice woman calls me back to the torture test from hell, and actually explains WHY I have to have the torture test from hell, which THANK YOU. Her name was Joy. I know this because I spent the next 15 minutes staring at her chest while she tried to shove a pencil up my nose. Epic FAIL. We could not get a catheter to pass through either nostril. Since that couldn't happen, that meant I didn't have to wear the tube overnight either, nor did I have to totally screw up the cardiac unit the next day while they had to wait for me to get the tube removed before they could have me.

Down to the Plaza Level for an abdominal ultrasound. Ever had a baby? Pretty much the same damn thing. So either they didn't believe me, the urine test, and the blood test that I wasn't pregnant, or they really did want to look at my liver and kidneys.

Down again to C level for a CT scan. Giant donut x-ray basically. IT takes clearer pictures in slices. So they can get a much closer look at what's going on in there. You lay on a table and they pass you back and forth through the donut while the camera whizzes around inside the donut. It really sounds a little like a jet taking off, and the tech told me it can go even father than what I heard it going. Some ten revolutions every .4seconds. I will be interested to hear what the differences between last year and this year were. I'm hoping that my Pum. Dr can get copies of all these results.

Now, back up the the Lobby of Parnassus building, only we found that at some point in our comings and goings in and out doors, we were in a different building. I'm not sure how we did that exactly without ever going outside, but we had to go outside to get back. Ehh, whatever, it was fine and we were only next door. I finally receive a call back from one nurse coordinator about trying to combine one other blood draw with the heart test I was having the next day. Turns out the heart test would be ventricle (through a vein) not arterial (through an artery), so them drawing blood wouldn't work. Dammit. This meant I was going to have to have someone shove a needle in my wrist and dig around for the artery there. A note should be made I HATE this test. Almost as much as I hate a failed nasal catheter.

Now I'm technically done with all the tests for today, but to save myself running all over in the morning before the heart test, I run up the block and have my EKG done. While I'm there my nurse coordinator FINALLY friggin' calls me back from the day before. She has scheduled my ABG (blood gas, needle to wrist test) on the 5th floor. OK, I make sure I ask twice which floor. 5th. She's sure, I'm sure, we're good to go!

We head back to the 5th floor of the first building we were in. We read the signs. Nothing screams GET BLOOD SUCKED HERE. One way says: Lung and Allergy. The other said something that sounded blood like. Hemoglobin Clinic or something like that. We headed there. They looked me up on the computer and said Oh no that's on the 6th floor, GI clinic. (Read first part again about not remembering names....) So off we head to the GI clinic. Or should I say,back to the GI clinic. We round the corner off the elevator and I'm all Dude, we've been here before. Bill says, "how can you tell, they all look the friggin' same?" Then I'm all, DUDE, IKNOW we've been here before. Oh yep, there is the receptionist lady from 8am. I said to her, ha, bet you thought you were done with me HUH? So she is totally sweet, makes 5 phone calls (5, because my nurse coordinator doesn't return calls, or apparently answer her phone) and finds out that YES I am supposed to be on the 5th floor. At the allergy clinic. I thank her profusely and off we head the allergy clinic.

I might mention that at this point it's about 11:30. I haven't eaten since the day before at 6pm, and that was only 1/2 a grilled cheese. The elevator is really beginning to be a head spinning experience and these elevators go at mach nine. We're sitting waiting to get this one last test, so we can just leave and eat real food. And waiting. And waiting. Then this man start talking to me. Do I look nice? Do I look friendly?Man, you have a southern accent, I look at you and see fried chicken. Turns out, he was a totally nice thigh, I mean GUY, who had a double lung transplant in '04. The, hot & sour soup, opps, man, he had been talking to before us, was a single lung transplant in '03.

Finally they call me back for my blood stick and we find out how unprepared some clinics are. You see, I'm horribly allergic to rubbing alcohol. It's a real pita at a hospital. They are not prepared for this at all. Now, they can use betadine, they can use a baby wipe, just don't use anything with alcohol. Turns out there was NO betadine on the floor. All of their wipes were expired, in Jan of '09 (check the stock much?). The poor tech finally found a bottle of betadine somewhere and we got the draw done. But not before I scare him by telling him I hope he's good and hurries up, I'm starved I haven't eaten in 17 hours. He stops, says, have you drank anything. I bat my eyes, lie like a rock, and say yes, plenty (4oz of My Dew totally counts). He breaths a sigh or relief and says phewwww he was worried about dehydration.

Then we ate. Went to the motel. The end.

Just kidding.

Well, not really. We left SF, saw an Outback Steak house, planned dinner, went back to Mill Valley, ate at DipSea, got a stomach ache, toured around Mill Valley a little (as long as you consider driving around and stopping a the pet shop, touring), drove out the Stinson Beach (their ocean is as ugly as ours, IMAGINE THAT), went back to the motel, and vegged until we went back to Outback for dinner.

When we finally did go for dinner we realized Outback was actually in a big box mall. OMG. I could have walked around Best Buy and Ross or Babies'R'Us ( after the urine, blood and ultrasound it's been confirmed we will not be needing such a store) rather than drive to the ocean. * forehead smack*

So I'll save the Heart test for tomorrow. This was enough to write today. The heart test day is a whole post worth on it's own. And I have the scars, bruises, and rash to prove it.

So I had these great plans at 9:30 on New Years Eve to throw together a year in review picture post.

I discovered that A) I don't have any pictures from this last year on my computer at all and B) maybe I should have thought about this a little sooner. (Like maybe during the 10 hours today I spent scanning the TV for anything [oh god please, ANYTHING] to watch, while I felt like crapola and stayed on my 02.)

So maybe my posts will help.... I blogged at least once a month right?
No? Really?

January found me sick and I landed in the hospital in SF after a terrifying plane ride. I don't care who tells you it was "lovely and calm", she lies.

February found me still in recovery mode from being sick. It also was the start of kidding season.

March it was back to business as usual. Our last kids were born by the 2nd of the month and we lost our herd matriarch, we came very close to selling the whole herd. I fell on my ass and bought 8 chickens in the same month. I must have hit my head when I fell.

April, wow I am a really dull read. *tap tap* Is this thing on? Feed changes, doctors appointment and the start of show season. Oh and work....

May we lost a friend, went to a couple goat shows, finished our first doe, and it rained. And work....

June we hauled the kids out of the yard, reaffirmed the fact that I HATE Purina feed, and made plans to go to a long show out of state.

July we went to said long show out of state and had a great time. Bringing home a crap pot of ribbons helps. Oh right... and work.

August I posted NOTHING all month. Wow. You people are still here? Right. Only because I'm stuck in your feed reader huh? It's ok, you can admit it. Well I know we had our fair. Drama, blah blah blah, same BS different year, good judges though. I saw my DR and he wanted me to drowned myself for good health.

September we lost a close friend of my husbands unexpectedly from a heart attack. We also lost a former co-worker of mine from the fair. I just kept hoping I wouldn't be three.

October I lived to see another birthday but as usual didn't celebrate. Made an appointment with the lung transplant team for Nov., Greg caught a cold and shared, and I recapped all the reasons you should stop smoking.

November I saw the transplant team and got the go ahead to start having the pre-transplant testing. We had Thanksgiving dinner with my mom and got a new puppy. Oh and I still had a cold. I just can't kick shit like I used to!

December we had the trip from hell that I never recounted here (sorry) for the beginning of this testing BS. We spent christmas with my mom and Bills parents came for Christmas eve.

happy New Years Folks. I hope you all have a safe and happy new year.

My brain is set to fry and it has nothing to do with the fever I do not have but feel like I do.

Holy shit information just flows out as fast as I try to store it. Greg and I came up with a pretty good meal plan for the next few days while we were driving home from the store. I get home to look for a tasty recipe I bookmarked (thanks Amalah!), and totally got sidetracked printing all the recipes Greg needed to update his cookbook for school. Now other than the side dish I just printed, I got nothing. Shit shit shit shit for brains.

So now I have to sit here and figure out what I was thinking of cooking, so I can make a shopping list, so I can go BACK to the friggin' store. See.... s h i t for brains.

Luckily I had plans to go to a different store to check out their meats, so that was kinda planned anyway. We would have made all the stops at once but the puppy might have eaten the groceries we already had, she has no car manners yet. And the 8lb wonder weenie likes to sit on the dash and just watch her get into trouble so she has more to sneer about. ;-)

We traveled to San Fran for the big appointment this last week and I’m not sure where to even begin to explain.

I didn’t sleep for days. I planned answers, prepared for questions, and readied backup plans. This might be one of those times when planning for the worst isn’t in my best interest. I laid awake I can’t begin to tell you how many night in the last 6 weeks mentally getting ready for this 3-4 hour appointment.

That was the fastest 40 minutes of my life. 20 minutes if that time was listening to the doctor dictate a letter to my other doctors. I’m a lovely patient perfectly suited to their program. Which means, yes, I’m in. No, I am not “listed” at this time. Which means I won’t be looking to cause any traffic accidents in the greater northern California area yet. Now we enter the evaluation/exclusion phase. I have about 40 tests to be run through. I will be poked, prodded, stuck and charted. All of that will give them a “number”. That number is my sick/healthy rating and gives me my place on the list. We might find that I’m just not sick enough yet, and we don’t find that likely.

So where does that leave this whole thing? I don’t know. I still don’t know how I feel about it. I really feel a lot like I’m just trading one problem for another. Is a possible 5 years really worth all this shit? Because look, the numbers aren’t great, 85% of patients are still alive after one year; only 51% are alive after 5 years. Yes those are averages, and averages include everyone with every disease to receive lungs, but it is what it is and those are the numbers. I am young, and as far as we know, totally healthy outside of having lungs that are steaming piles of shit. Everyone thinks I’ll go much farther than 5 years, but the reality is, 5 years may be it. Could I survive 5 years without the surgery? When is the timing right? Now, tomorrow, next week, next year?

It’s a ton to absorb. My other doctors are just happy that I’m plugged in. My PF test was up a little more, which means I’m up to 28% of normal. My lung volume should be 3.06, mine is .86. There is no doubt my numbers are beyond bad. Another spell like last January could easily mean life on a ventilator until lungs come up.

I did like the doctor I saw. He could have cared less about my time out of the “loop”, he didn’t care about my medications and felt they were all fine and working so why muck with it. All the time worrying was for nothing, which it totally to be expected. Part of me knew that, but you can’t help but be prepared, I’ve had it go the other way too. For every laid back easy doctor there are 5 hardnosed, by the book, black or white, diehards with no wiggle room. I’ve seen and been in front of the firing squad. This was not that.

So now we go from here. Where we go from here is a path I’m not sure of. But at least we’re moving forward.

Hauled hay today.
Fell through the fucking floor with a loaded truck and trailer. happy. NOT.
Had to have the tractor pull us out and board over the whole before the trailer could be pulled clear. Left rear tire all the way through the floor to the axle. Missed taking out the fender by a hair. Did not tweek the trailer or tongue, though I have no idea how at that angle. Hubby was seriously pissed. And not at falling through the floor, I mean that was expected. We're just shocked we made it this long. It was the manner in which they wished to yard out our truck, you know, the rig they DON'T OWN.

Still had to make a second load. Fucking Amazing.