One Lovely Blog

I'm late, late, late getting around to this, but I'm very excited to pass on the "One Lovely Blog" award from Nessie at Lipstick, Perfume and Too Many Pills.

I don't want to just repeat all of the wonderful blogs that have already been listed by other winners, but here are a few of my favourites:

1. Mariah at From this Point. Forward. is my age, hilarious, and a law student. She's showing me it can be done (which is something I really need to hear right now!).

2. Wren at Rheumablog is wise and the best, most uplifting blog commenter you could ever wish for. She always makes me feel better, and her posts are full of joy, even when she's in the midst of a flare.

3. Sara's Single Gal's Guide to Rheumatoid Arthritis was my introduction to the world of RA blogs. I love her positive outlook and it's wonderful to read about all of the fun and interesting things she's doing.

4. Cathy's determination to take control of her health is truly inspiring. Her blog, The Life and Adventures of Cateepoo, reminds me that ultimately, I'm the one in control - and she always reminds me to stop and appreciate the little things.

5. WarmSocks at ∞ itis is a wealth of information. Her great ideas help me stay on top of things when I'm feeling overwhelmed. 

6. Laurie at Frozen Woman: Life with Rheumatoid Arthritis is funny, creative, open and busy! She reminds me there's much more to life than RA (I also get to commiserate with her over our mutual loss of hair. Sigh.).

There are lots more wonderful blogs on the list to your right, and I hope you'll check them all out if you haven't already. This is a really strong community, and we're lucky to have each other.  

Should I take that as a compliment?

A few years ago when I was first diagnosed with HCM, I had blood taken at a Toronto genetics clinic and sent to Harvard for analysis. An "unknown variant" was discovered - a genetic mutation that hadn't been seen before but that was quite possibly responsible for the cardiomyopathy, especially as, on further investigation, a number of family members were shown to have the same mutation.

I thought that was that, but according to a phone call from Dr. Sneakers' office, the Harvard people uncovered some new information just in the past month. ("Haven't they told you about this yet?" his nurse asked. No.) I'd had no idea that the research was ongoing, although I suppose I should have assumed it would be.

Anyway, to make a (very) long story short, Dr. Sneakers now thinks my genetics are "too complex" for a biopsy to provide any useful information at this point.

So, no biopsy. Which is fine, but I'm feeling totally out of the loop and not enjoying that very much. What does he mean by "too complex"? And why does a test I had for HCM influence his decision to perform a test investigating my supposed Brugada Syndrome? His nurse promised me an appointment with him just to sit down and talk about what he's learned.

I feel like I'm reading a book written in another language, and somebody has ripped out a bunch of really important pages just to make it even more confusing.

Maple peppercorn chicken, and an update

Ok, hip. Seriously. What is your deal? We are not friends anymore.

I'm cramming in a bit of overtime before I take a few days off later this week, two to relax and one for my biopsy. I am, despite my stupid hip, feeling better little by little. Toronto was great fun. I just don't like this limbo; I want school to start. I am also very seriously contemplating a pretty financially irresponsible trip to Seattle to visit a good friend, just because I bloody well feel like it.

Meanwhile, I am eating again (last week there was one day during which I ate A GRAPE. Total. Which is kind of hilarious in its own way. I mean, what did I think? "Well, I can't stomach dinner, but I'm going to eat this grape. That'll help.").

Since I am eating more than grapes now, here is a yummy chicken recipe I adapted from BBC Good Food. And here is what it looked like on my plate:

Maple Peppercorn Chicken

1 chicken breast
Peppercorns, crushed into fairly big bits
1 small shallot, thinly sliced
1 clove garlic, crushed
2 tbsp sherry (or balsamic vinegar or wine or whatever else you've got, I would think)
2 tbsp maple syrup
Some chicken stock
Olive oil

Heat the olive oil in a pan over medium-high heat. Brown the chicken breast and remove from heat, then turn it down to medium-low. Sautee shallots, garlic and crushed peppercorns until shallots have softened. Add the sherry and deglaze the pan, then add the maple syrup and a bit of chicken stock, and simmer until syrupy. Put the chicken back in the pan and simmer for another 6 minutes or so until chicken is cooked.

I served this with roasted asparagus, mushrooms and potatoes, and a giant G&T.

Dogs!

I mentioned in my last post I sometimes wish I was this guy:

What a life. He JUST WANTS TO SHOW YOU THE SLIPPER. He is very serious about it.

Starting tomorrow, I'm taking care of a friend's Jack Russell mix for a few days. Apparently, he likes to sleep in people beds, under the covers, curled up against you. Can't wait. There's nothing like a dog in your bed to make you feel better. 

Then, on Thursday, I'm visiting a friend in Toronto for sushi, long walks and a pedicure. I can't afford it (like, really can't afford it), but I'm doing it anyway.

Arthritis-wise, I'm feeling good. My cardiac biopsy is next Friday at 7:30 a.m. (ugh) and we're hoping to be able to do some poking around while they're in there to learn more about any scarring I might have. I'm looking forward to seeing what they can find.

Blue

This post is not illness-related at all, but I'm having a blue day.

I've had what you might call a boyfriend (although I hate that word) for the past few months. It was good, but complicated and now, over.

I'll be 27 in September, and believe me, I know that's still young. Lately, though, I can't help feeling like most of my friends have got their ducks in a row, or at least have asked the ducks to begin forming a nice single-file line. My ducks, meanwhile, are still in their eggs, and I don't even know where the nest is.

What if I never even find the fricking nest?! 

I'll be 27 and just starting a school program that's going to take me 3 years, plus a year of articling. 27 and single. 27 and only vaguely aware of what I want out of life, and not really sure what any of it looks like. I've realized only lately that I do want the house, the husband, even the baby. All of that feels impossibly far away.

I feel light-years behind everybody else. Wah.

Update: AND I just got back from signing papers at the bank for a holy-shit-enormous student loan. I would officially like to switch lives with my dog for a while: all he has to worry about is carrying people's shoes around the house and making sure his tennis balls never, ever leave his line of sight. I could deal with that.

Update

So, that MIBI scan? Not for me!

I learned a bit about the test over the weekend and became even more suspicious than I'd originally been; it sounded like it had nothing to do with any of my conditions. So I called Dr. Sneakers' receptionist yesterday morning and asked her to please double-check, as I'd never been told this was a test I would need.

"Ohhhh, right!" she said, almost immediately. "These files are such a mess. This isn't for you after all!"

Good thing I called. Definitely not a good thing that they're mixing people up. I'd totally have gone and done it, and for no reason!

Grumble, grumble.

Meltdown mode

I got home early from work today to a message on my phone from Dr. Sneakers' receptionist about my "upcoming July 6 appointment." As far as I knew, there was no such thing, and when I called back it turned out that, indeed, they were only just getting round to booking it for me now. Thanks for the advance notice.

I'm having something called a MIBI scan ("a what?" I said about four times before she spelled it for me); radioactive dye is injected into my heart and pictures are taken. Fasting, no caffeine for 24 hours, and comfortable shoes so I can hop on the treadmill and they can all be blown away by my athletic prowess.

I don't know why I'm doing this, but fine, whatever. It's another day off work, more parking to pay for, more IVs, more lying around thinking about the food I'm not allowed to eat. It's old news by now, but for some reason, today it was enough to cue a total meltdown. Tears, a bit of stomping around, pajamas at 4:30.

I know my doctors are doing their best to give me as many answers as possible. I guess I'm just sick of feeling like a sick person. Especially a sick person who doesn't get told about things in advance.