Caffeine-free Me

On May 2nd of this year I came down with some malady that rendered me miserable. I awakened in the middle of the night with a fever and chills, and for four weeks I suffered from the kind of bloating, gas, and diarrhea I can only refer to as “Shock and Ewww!!!”

We still aren’t completely sure what was going on; although, the doctor I finally was able to see concurred with my self-diagnosis of diverticulitis. I’ve had a few tests done, and none of the them were conclusive. And now at the end of July, I’m still dealing with a few digestive issues. There’s nothing too awful going on, but to use a favorite euphemism, I always feel like I need to drop a kid off at the pool. 🤭

This illness hasn’t been all bad. I’ve radically changed my diet, doing away with caffeinated drinks and cutting way down on alcohol. Since May 2, I might’ve had three glasses of wine and a couple of beers. I’ve also cut out carbonated drinks and spicy foods. I do miss my Mexican foods and diet Dr. Peppers most of all. I’ve lost 14 lbs., and other than the above mentioned symptoms, I feel good. Being caffeine-free means I’m sleeping better and I have fewer headaches, too.

We aren’t totally through trying to get to the bottom of the problem. Once this summer is behind us, I’ll make an appointment with a gastroenterologist and see if he/she can make heads or tails of my situation. I count three puns in this paragraph. That might be a new record for me.

I didn’t create the meme pictured below. The lack of an apostrophe in “its” really bugs me, but the photo cracked me up.

What About the Zombie Apocalypse?

On Tuesday morning I had an ultrasound procedure to determine if my recent medical issues were actually the diverticulitis that I’d self-diagnosed or a result of a faulty gallbladder. No big deal, but I was required to fast from midnight until after my 10 a.m. appointment.

During an average night I get up at least twice to potty and get a drink of water. Afraid that I’d forget the “nothing by mouth” order I taped a hastily written note to my bathroom mirror:

Of course Studly Doright found the note hilarious.

Thank goodness, though, for my foresight because at 3:49 a.m. I had a glass of water in hand and only my note prevented me from taking a big drink. Take that Studly!

As I drove to the imaging center I pondered that note. What if, God forbid, some tragic accident had taken both my life and Studly’s life before we returned home that day. Whatever would investigators make of the cryptic “No food or water!!”?

Might someone have thought I was starving in spite of the abundance of food in our pantry? Perhaps they’d believe I’d penned a note crying out for help because my husband had forbidden me access to our food supply.

Then of course my mind pondered how that note might be interpreted by survivors of a zombie apocalypse. Would they think our food and water were tainted? Would some poor survivor pass by the jars of peanut butter and boxes of rice and cereal believing the contents weren’t fit for human consumption? I’d hate to be the reason someone in an apocalyptic situation starved to death. As soon as I returned home I tossed it in the trash. Whew! That was a close one.

Peace, people

A Metaphor?

Monday is laundry day. Now that there are just two of us in the Doright household the chore isn’t nearly as tedious as it once was. I still don’t love doing laundry, but I don’t mind it nearly as much.

Once the final load was in the dryer I drove into Tallahassee for a few necessities. Normally I avoid the big retailer (aka Walmart), but it was the nearest store that was sure to have everything I needed.

When I entered the store I was looking for just three items, so I didn’t grab a shopping cart. Can you believe how naive I still am at the ripe old age of 61.5? One doesn’t simply shop at Walmart without a cart.

As my arms became overburdened with just discovered “must haves” I began looking for an abandoned cart. As luck would have it, I found one just around the corner from the Preparation H aisle. Don’t ask, but yes, that was one of my necessities. Damned diverticulitis.

It didn’t take me long to realize why the cart had been abandoned:

That annoying intermittent sound (much louder in real life than in the above video) was my cart. The darned thing handled like a two ton tank that every few feet emitted an awful buzz causing fellow shoppers to wince and/or laugh out loud. A small child began crying as I approached.

I guess I could have abandoned the cart as its previous operator had done, but I decided to embrace it instead, quirky sound effects and all. As I wrestled my noisy cart around the store, adding milk and cat treats and plain yogurt and bananas and yes, Preparation H, among other things, I began to think of the cart as a metaphor for life:

“The road we travel isn’t always peaceful or smooth, but if you keep pushing, eventually you’ll get to lay down your load.”

Okay, that’s a crummy metaphor, but what are you going to do? Sue me?

Peace, people.

Shaggy and Nutty

I was supposed to have gotten my hair cut and colored on May 8, but I was still battling diverticulitis and had to cancel my appointment. I called my stylist and broke into sobs as I left a message telling her I was too sick to make the 45 minute drive to Blountstown.

She called the next day to reschedule my appointment and I believe I detected a note of wariness in her voice. I can’t say I blame her. What kind of loon cries when she cancels a haircut? Her earliest opening was on the 31st, and I’m counting the minutes until I look like me again instead of this shaggy gray crone I see when I look in a mirror.

Part of me is a little worried that she’ll have the men in white coats waiting to carry me away. Hey, as long as she cuts and colors my hair first, I’m fine with that. I’ll be the best coiffed chick in the home.

Waiting on the Rain; Tired of the Pain

Early Saturday morning I took Studly Doright to the local emergency room. Nothing critical, but the nerve pain resulting from his recent surgery had gotten out of control, and nothing we tried could make him comfortable. His surgeon had told us that it would take six to eight weeks for the nerve pain to ease off. I sure hope it’s closer to the six week estimate. He’s miserable, and I’ve never felt so helpless.

We were impressed with the efficiency of the Tallahassee Memorial Hospital’s ER staff. Studly was taken to a room immediately and we were headed home within an hour. They were able to get his pain under control and while it’s still a factor, he can manage it now.

As for me, I’m feeling better every day. The diverticulitis seems to be under control. I’m still eating carefully, though. I’ve completely cut caffeine out of my diet, and now that the headaches have stopped I can tell a real difference. I’m sleeping better and all of those “sinus” headaches I’ve suffered from have become very rare. Something tells me those weren’t sinus headaches after all. I’m still avoiding alcohol, as well. I sure miss my wine, but I think I feel better without it.

Gosh, we sound like a couple of old farts. If the shoe fits, I suppose we should wear it.

Finally, a tropical storm is headed our way this afternoon. Our area is expected to get high winds and quite a bit of much needed rain. I’m really not ready for hurricane season, but hurricane season is ready for me.

I Feel Almost Human

I would personally like to thank the makers of Excedrin Migraine for helping me feel somewhat human today. The diverticulitis has been a real b*tch, but the accompanying headaches have compounded my intestinal distress. You, dear readers, should be counting your lucky stars that you are nowhere near Doright Manor. I have been a whiny, icky mess.

Studly Doright, fresh off of back surgery, has had to take care of me even as have I tried to care for him. We’re like a pair of topsy turvy turtles trying to right each other.

Neither of us is old. Yet. But this experience has begun to make me think about the days to come when we will surely need assistance. Our kids assure us they will find us a quality assisted living home when the time is right. I just want a place that will feed me three square meals a day and bring me Excedrin when I ring a little bell. I can’t get Studly to do that.

Peace, people!