St. Luke's Update

Spent my first full day down in the medical center today. I don't have in me a long post, but wanted to get the main points down so I don't leave everyone hanging. Met Dr. Fish for the first time, he and his staff were nothing but nice, and for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel rushed in a doctor's office. He say, he listened, and he made sense of all of my other symptoms and diagnoses. He told me he hadn't seen my images yet, since my first cardiologist's office sort of sucks and sent them to me (via mail, which I have not gotten yet) instead of to Dr. Fish's office. He said he wanted to confirm that the tumor was in fact a benign myxoma and not some other type of growth or tumor. So, he sent me off to schedule a heart MRI. 2 hours later, and a few phone calls to the insurance to get the procedure approved, we left the doctor's office at noon, and had 3 hours to kill before the 3pm appointment.

So, what do 2 hungry girls in downtown do with 3 hours to spare?

Find the MMM Cupcake truck. Duh.

And then went to The Cheesecake Factory (yes, 20 minutes away).

So, after a small break and some much needed food, we headed back to St. Luke's for the MRI. Got there at 2:15, went back at 4:45. Good thing there was an ipad to keep me busy. I take back all the bad things I have said about Angry Birds. When you need a distraction, those little green pigs are awesome! Finally, at 4:45 I was taken back and give an IV, gown, and fancy socks. I will expand on this later because it includes a great conversation about sex in space and a missed vein during the IV starting. Yea, I'm a pin cushion. Anyway, so the MRI itself was interesting, but more than anything else, LONG. I think I was in the machine at least 80 minutes, but probably more like 90-100 minutes. I did some breathing in and out for them, held my breath, and stayed as still as possible.

The doctors should be getting back to me in the next couple of days with some more information. I am working on getting the TEE videos up to the cardiologist so he has all the information he needs to make some decisions. I am also working on keeping it together and taking care of myself. Jessica was with me all day, and while I didn't think she needed to be initially, I would not have made it through today without her. I am lucky to have such an amazing best friend. She kept me busy, cracked me up, and bitched about work at the right times. And she took awesome notes, which I will include in tomorrow's blog, when I have more energy and am not completely drained.

Thanks for all the support and love today, I am sorry if I didn't text you back or answer the phone, I am not up for a whole lot of talking tonight. I'll be back to my old self soon though, I promise!

I'm only being nice to you because you have a heart tumor

Well, I am starting to have less faith in my current cardiologist's office. Good thing I am moving on to the big time downtown. Today the Clear Lake office called to tell me that there was a miscommunication with the future doctor's office, and I in fact was not going to be having an Angiogram on Friday, but rather having a consultation first with my new doctor, and that wouldn't be until next Tuesday. So, while I am happy to not have a catheter wire shoved up my leg right now, I sort of feel like we are just prolonging the inevitable. If you can save your prayers for a little longer, I would be much appreciative.

Also, talked to my good friend Dan at Cigna Healthcare today. He reassured me I have already burned through my $1250 HRA account, and am halfway through my deductible. He also reassured me that I am very soon going to have free healthcare for the rest of the year. He was impressed at how quickly I had done this in 2012. I'm pretty much amazing.

Had dinner tonight with Eve. A year ago today, Eve found out that she had a brain tumor. 2 weeks later she went into a 12 hour surgery to have it removed. She had some good insight for me, despite the fact that I think a brain tumor is about 100 times more scary than a heart tumor. We talked about the frustration, the anger, the sadness and the general feeling of being overwhelmed. About the support that comes out of the woodwork, and about the sudden emotional craziness that your life becomes. Eve knew what to say and what not to say (I know you are all trying, and doing a great job, but it's different when someone can be blatant about it). She reminded me how much this will (and already has) teach me about life, relationships, and happiness. I'm an educator, so I always look for the lesson and what I can learn. And this is one big lesson.

Last weekend on the phone, a certain boy who will remain nameless (because, uh, I think he would kill me for telling this story) told me he was only being nice to me because I had a heart tumor. He was obviously being obnoxious, but I thought it was great, because he was real, and he made me laugh, and he wasn't treating me like I was some breakable fragile object. I mean, clearly I am not exactly breakable in general. I appreciate more than I can express the love and support that has been sent via text, email, facebook and cards (and please don't stop, because the written stuff is good to go back to when I am feeling down), but the people that know me know I don't deal well with pity, and I like to laugh and be happy. And being real with me is the best thing for me right now. You might find me being a little bit more "real" than normal in response (mom, you may or may not have gotten the brunt of my realness earlier this week), but you all know I have a little bit of bitch in me, so it should come as not surprise that it comes out every once in a while. Overall, though, I still would rather hear about the latest gossip regarding the setup of your friend/brother/cousin/coworker with your other friend/coworker/cousin (ok, don't be setting up your cousins...), the stupid thing your boss said to you today/yesterday/just now (or all of the above if you are some of us), or the vacation we are going to plan to Chile/Hawaii/Europe/Maine once this is all over.

Lastly (yea, this was going to be a short post), if you feel like you would like to do something fun for me and you, I am in the midst of requesting fun mixed CD's. Music has been a big thing in my life (the next post will expand on this), and certain music has helped me get through parts of my day recently. So, if you have some favorite songs (that are not sappy love songs or really ridiculous rap) throw them on a CD, give it a creative name, and shoot it my way. I am currently rocking a CD full of TV theme songs and fun 2003 and before sing a long songs. Something more updated would be great. Please note, I grew up on Neil Diamond, The Beacb Boys, and show tunes, so all are especially welcome. Have at it!

Sara sent this to me tonight:


This is the crap that gets me through my days.

Guardian Angels

In my life, I have been fairly lucky to not have known too many people who have passed away. Both of my grandmothers are still alive, and I never knew either of my blood grandfathers. My step grandfather on my mother's side is also still alive, and all three of these grandparents are still very much alive and well.

When I was younger, I thought that there was a life plan to be followed. That you went to college, graduated, worked, fell in love, married, had children, and grew old together. There wasn't ever discussion of the other challenges that would delay this path, or disrupt it completely. No one mentioned difficulty finding a job you loved, or even finding a job at all. The man of your dreams was just going to show up one day and sweep you off your feet. Where he was coming from, that was never an issue. As a teenager, I was naive to thoughts of divorce, infertility, or even death.

I do remember the first person who I ever knew who died. I was in eighth grade. Over the summer, several of us had spent a week doing a peer counseling training. We were trained to be able to work with other students at the school to help resolve situations without having to involve the adults. The woman in charge was pregnant. She was boisterous and connected with all of us (hard to do when most of us were seventh grade girls in the height of hormones and puberty). When we returned to school the following fall, we had our first counseling meeting. It was there that they told us she had passed away during child birth. I don't remember them telling us speficially. What I remember was that evening. I spent the entire night curled up on my bed, with a strange feeling stiring in my head and heart. I was so upset. My grandparents were all still alive (three still are), and I had never experienced death before. This was a new emotion to me, and I didn't like. I am sure my mother thought she was done for that night, because I wouldn't talk, wouldn't eat, wouldn't come out of my room. I just wanted to be left alone. I am not even sure I ever told her what happened that day at school. When you are in eighth grade, any number of things can cause this reaction, so luckily, she probably wasn't too worried.

Over the years, I have experience death only a handful of times since then. In high school, a brother of one of my friends was killed after rappelling from a power lines tower, and catching one of the lines. The entire community mourned him, and I still think of those days as some of the hardest of high school. My best friend's grandfather died before we went to college. We cried together in the upstairs bedroom of a ski lodge, and then again at the funeral. I was crying more for her than for him. He had led a good life, but death will always be the hardest on the people who are left behind. My grandfather died when I was in college. I had met him once, when I was an infant, but it still hurt to know I would never know that part of my life, my family history. It was a different kind of loss, and I mourned for my father and his pain. A close friend from high school died several years ago. I didn't attend her funeral, but it helped me to be able to talk about the fond memories we had when we were in school together. She had struggled in life so much between high school and her death, and I really believe that she is in a better place.

In 2004, Chris passed away. He was killed in Iraq. I will never forget the night I found out. I was sitting on the couch in Manzanita, our apartment at camp. There were 6 or 7 other instructors eating dinner with me, and I had a voicemail. When I heard Joy's voice on the message, I knew something was wrong. I knew instantly it was Chris. That night I took 15 5th graders on a night hike. We hiked and hiked and hiked and I sat in the dark with them, watched the stars, and thought about death. I had seen Chris only months before, and now he was gone. Chris' funeral was packed, there were people from his entire life in one room, celebrating this amazing man. I sat in that church completely humbled with how many people one man can touch, and how he gave his life for the rights that so many of us take for granted. I think about Chris and his family every March. And I know he is somewhere, drinking a beer and laughing like he always did.

Only 3 months later, I woke up one morning found myself sitting at breakfast when our director came out to tell us that one of our grounds staff had passed away over night. We were all shocked. Moose was such a gentle guy, with a wicked sense of humor, and he had been at camp for years. He had been at a party the evening before and had walked past me, tickled my foot (which was up on the edge of a couch after a knew injury had put me on crutches a few days before), and given me a wink. Three hours later, he laid down in bed and had a heart attack. His death shook us all, and made it hard to go on and teach that week. He reminded us all that we were a family, and that when someone passes away, you have to lean on each other and come together to help each other through it.

And then last year, there was Suzy. Suzy's death, like the woman from my middle school days, was hardest perhaps because it was so sudden and unexpected. When someone passes away from sickness or old age, there is a certain semblance of relief. There is also often some warning. When I was told Suzy had passed away, I was numb. I think Jessica had to repeat herself four times. And even then, my brain wouldn't let me understand that she was talking about Suzy. Our friend Suzy. The happy go lucky woman who had given birth three days prior. We were in a room at work next to the main ballroom. I still can't go into that room without getting upset. I just stared at Jessica for awhile, and clung to her as she cried. She had known for several hours, and had come to work to tell me. It was 8:15am, and I was 15 minutes away from addressing a room full of college students and starting a 2 day program for them. That talk never happened. I stood in the middle of the room for a little while with Jessica and we just hung on to each other. The tears didn't arrive immediately, but I am more more apt to cry when someone else is crying, i think out of pure emotion for that person, so once the tears arrived, they flowed freely. Suzy's funeral, much like Chris', was packed. The overflow room was to capacity. Pictures of her smiling face ran on an overhead, as part of a slideshow. We sat, an entire row of her coworkers and friends, and cried for the world's loss. It has almost been a year since Suzy passed away, and I still miss her and think about her. Every single day. I think about what she would say to me now (and oh would she have a TON to say to me these days), and how she would make me laugh, and tell me not to worry about anything. She was always happy, and always smiling. Sometimes, when I am sad, I try to channel her positivity.

After losing special people in your life, you do start to think about your beliefs of souls, heaven, and angels. I am not religious, per se, but I definitely have spiritual beliefs. And when you go through something like what I am facing, you begin to have to lean on these beliefs more and more. And so, I find a lot of solace in the ideas that the people that I have lost in my life, or even the people who died before I was born, are out there, somewhere, watching over me, taking care of me, and carrying me when I can't carry myself. These are my guardian angels. And recently, when I get into bed at night, these are the people I think about. And the people whose memories calm me down. And who make me feel safe. And for that, and that alone, I am thankful to have had the opportunity to know these amazing people, to have shared time with them in my life, and to hold them in my heart (oh the irony of that statement) as I make it through this challenge in my life.

Short update

For those of you keeping track, and so I can avoid having to repeat this information 778 times, went to the doctor's yesterday. The tumor has grown from 1.5cm last May to 2.6cm last week. My right atrium has also begun to dilate, apparently to make room for the blood to flow through my heart around the tumor. I guess an inch mass in the middle of your atrium creates a need for the heart to expand to be able to pump the blood through my heart at the same rate.

I am headed to St. Luke's at 7am on Friday morning for the Angiogram, and then hopefully we will know a bit more. Parents arrive Thursday night and are here until Sunday, unless something comes up on Friday that requires them to stay. I will be sedated most of Friday, but hopefully am coming home Friday night or sometime Saturday. I'll have my phone, and might be funny if you call me and I answer while drugged. Feel free to try it!

Thank you for all the emails, phone calls, thoughts, and prayers. I am working on getting back to everyone, but I am a little overwhelmed, and hitting the point where I am just trying to make it to Friday. If you actually want to talk to me, your best bet is Facebook around midnight, when I can't sleep and am just trying to distract myself. Someone asked me at work yesterday how I could possibly focus. I told him I couldn't. But, work is a good distraction, and I am lucky to be able to surround myself with my amazing friends in Houston, who keep me busy and check on me often. And of course, these two are the best distraction of all:

Love you all!

The one about the tumor growing...

Those of you who know me well, or have talked to me recently, know I am big into quotes these days. If I am sad, or lonely, or inspired, or really feeling any emotion at an extreme, I like to look at quotes about said emotion. This can lead to some awesomely ridiculous Facebook statuses, or to me finding a quote that just is exactly right for the occasion. Tonight, I have found some quotes that seem particularly fitting for the day (and week) I have had:

Life is a shipwreck but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats. ~Voltaire

The human spirit is stronger than anything that can happen to it. ~C.C. Scott

If children have the ability to ignore all odds and percentages, then maybe we can all learn from them. When you think about it, what other choice is there but to hope? We have two options, medically and emotionally: give up, or fight like hell. ~Lance Armstrong


I know this blog is usually somewhat upbeat, and people like to tell me that I should write books, or at least write comedy. I also know that some of my recent posts from 2011 haven't been the most upbeat. This one will probably be along the same lines.

My cardiologist called me today. That's right, 2 days after my TEE, and I had this voicemail on my phone, direct from Dr. T. So, being the good patient that I am, I called him back. And after being put on hold a few times and getting transferred to the nurse, my stomach pretty much dropped out of my stomach. The tumor has grown. Significantly. No idea what this really means, since I was too shocked to ask the right questions (or any questions at all). They had made me an appointment. For next Friday. At St. Luke's. With a new doctor, Dr. Fish. For an Angiogram. As far as I can tell, the angiogram will help to show the doctors the flow of blood in my heart, and specifically the flow of blood to the tumor. The nurse who I spoke with about the procedure explained in pretty good detail, but started talking about balloons and stints, neither of which I think really are what they will do to me, since they will eventually want the tumor out, not just pushed to one side. I guess we will talk options after the angiograms. Never really thought I would be talking about options at age thirty. At least options for me.

So, after I finished taking notes on the back of my CVS receipt about things such as to make sure I packed an overnight bag for the hospital, and to fast after midnight (I am a pro at this by now), I hung up, and just stared at Jessica, who was sitting next to me in my car, and I don't think knew what to say to me. At that moment, the cupcake truck rolled up for the cupcake fundraiser we were about to have, and I had little choice but to plaster on a smile and greet my friends for the next 45 minutes as we sold a ridiculous amount of cupcakes to raise money for our Avon walk. Probably this was the best thing that could have happened, because it is incredibly powerful to have so many close friends of yours show up to support you in something so meaningful to begin with. People came, bought cupcakes, gave hugs, and visited briefly before going their separate ways for the weekend. It really was cool to see everyone, and gave me the distraction I needed at that point.

After we sold out of cupcakes in record time (ok, no idea if it was really record time, but I'm going with it), we headed in to hang out at Bullritos and wait for stragglers, and then grabbed dinner with Jenny and the boy next door at the sandwich place (Caitlin, I know this is your favorite, and I totally thought of you!). I made it through dinner and into the car before I called my mom and discussed this with her. I made it through that conversation and half way to Veronica's before I lost it. I have cried in my car before, it is actually the best place to cry because there is music, good climate control, and really tinted windows. I am super ugly when I cry (trust me, I checked today), so it is better to be in a tinted environment. I also (and this is something that only my close friends ever knew about me) have this chicken pox scar under my left eye that turns red when I cry, and stays red long after the tears are gone. It's kind of my thing, and I have known about it since high school. Weird, but true. (Dont you feel like you know me so much better now?) Anyway, so I cried, pulled it together, and rolled over the Veronica's, where we proceeded to talk life for 2 hours. That was just what I needed. Sorry to all of you who I texted and them promptly ignored, but I needed to talk to someone, and Veronica was pretty much the perfect choice.

Eventually I drove home, and cried some more. It is weird though, I was not really crying about the tumor, or even the fear of what the tumor could end up doing or being. I mean, I think that might have been some of it, but really, I think I was upset about the impact this is about to have on my life. Hmm, sounds selfish as I write it. I guess I don't mean it quite like that. But, then again, it is my tumor, and so I guess I can be a little selfish. So, I am supposed to move to NM. In like 2 weeks. Somehow I feel like this just got derailed. I am not positive, but the timing is just horrendous. And those of you who know me well know I am pretty laid back, but like to have control over my own life. I couldn't care less what you do in your life, but in mine, I like control. And planning. And knowing. And all of a sudden, that is all out of the window. And I just realized I didn't want to deal with it. I cried in the shower for a few minutes. I'm not a huge crier, mostly because I usually get to the point (really quickly) where I can't figure out what crying is going to help. However, I am big believer in the release of tension through crying, and how important this is. So, I'm in the shower, crying and snotty and gross (crying with a cold sucks), and I look down at my legs, and all I can think is "damn, I am going to have to shave my entire leg for this procedure. Damn. That sucks!" And somehow, as I sort of giggled to myself, I realized I was ok, and was going to be ok. If you can still be annoyed with having to shave your legs, things just can't be all that bad.

I have been super positive (or mostly at least) since last March. And I have faced some hideous tests in life (even as I write this, though, I can't help but think how other people in my life has faced things that are so much worse than any of my problems...). And this might be the ones that cracks me. I am trying to be positive, but I am just done. I just want it out. I want my life back, and I want to not have to deal with the surprises life likes to throw at me anymore. Just for a few months. Just something easy for a while. So, we will see. I guess what they say, about whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger (which I have always unconditionally believed), really is true. And this will just be the next test. I hope I am strong enough to get through it. And if I am not, at least I have some awesome people to lean on and let take care of me. And for that, I am so thankful. So thanks for getting me through this (in advance), thanks for making me laugh, bringing me ice cream, and cleaning my house for me (hey, a girl can try, right?). I'm working on being positive about this, and laughing through life as I have done for 30 years, so we will see how it all goes...Good Lord, what a crazy ride!

TEE #2

So today was my second TEE. The first one way last May, you can read about that here. Anyway, so after having a TEE already, I was more aware of what to expect. This might be a good thing, might be a bad thing. It might have helped if I hadn't gotten super sick the day before, and had to stay at home in bed ALL day log sleeping to get rid of the horrendous sore throat. It seems since the tonsils are gone, anytime I get a sore throat, it just burns and burns, and hurts oftentimes more than it did when I had the tonsils. Still glad I got rid of them, but man, these sore throats sucks. Anyway, enough of that tangent. So, I was somewhat nervous about the procedure starting last night. I dont get nervous about the tumor (aka Henry) too often, mostly because I dont have symptoms that would lead me to believe anything was going terribly wrong in my heart. But last night I got nervous. I guess it was a 2 parter. First, the procedure itself is pretty miserable. I mean, they give you good drugs, and you don't remember (or are not supposed to remember) the actual camera in the throat, but it still sucks. I was also nervous for what they might find. I mean, symptoms or otherwise, it is never a good feeling to have something weird just hanging out in your heart. I have a lot I want to accomplish this year, and while I will obviously do whatever is needed to deal with this tumor, taking 3 months off to have open heart surgery and recover is not high on the list if accomplishments for this year. Plus, Congress (aka my 7 bosses) will never approve my vacation if I am out for 3 months removing Henry. And I want to go on vacation this year!

So, I rolled into the hospital at 6:15 this morning. It was just me, the security guard, and the EMT groups that were apparently meeting for breakfast in the lobby. Admitting wasn't open yet, so I hung out. At 6:40, when admitting still wasn't open yet, I started to get annoyed. Who tells someone to be there between 6 and 6:30 if your admitting isn't even going to be open at that point?? Luckily, I was too tired (and woozy from sleeping all day the day before) to bring out "Bitchy Deb" and the lady behind the counter did eventually open the doors at 6:45. After having a short argument with her about how I did not owe her $1800 worth of a deductible because I have the world's best insurance, I agreed to pay it and deal with my insurance later. Good thing I had brought my trusty SWA Visa with me, that's basically a free flight worth of money spent in 10 seconds. After I shelled out more than a paycheck for this procedure, the lady behind the counter personally escorted me to the second flood. They weighed me (fasting all morning seemed to have a positive affect on this), showed me to my "room" (aka, curtained off area), and gave me a fancy gown to put on. I was lookin' pretty stylish in my pajama pants and blue and green hospital gown. Good thing I wasn't trying to impress anyone.

My nurse for the morning was Laurie. She had the personality of a brick. Luckily, however, she also had some skills, so this time there was no blownout IV bruise to deal with for the next month. She drew blood and got me all set up, all before 8:30am. This was going much more smoothly than the last time. At some point, Bill rolled in. Now Bill was my nurse who would be with me during the procedure. Bill was clearly in his 50s and liked to be everyone's friend (even Laurie's, who was really not interested). Bill came in, hugged me because he said I looked like I needed it, and then proceeded to ask me 100 questions for his part of the survey. I swear I should have a printout. He then went nextdoor to tell the other guy having a TEE how it was going to go. At some point I hear "Deborah, are you listening? It would really save us all time if I don't have to go over this again..." Really Bill?

So, around 9am, I get rolled back to the procedure room, which is really just through a door to another curtained off hallway. Clear Lake is clearly all about using space to the best potential. There, Bill continued to be my best friend, after he asked me if I might be pregnant (since the bloodwork was slow), and I told him there wasn't a chance in hell, and he laughed and laughed and then asked me if I thought it was possible there could have been an immaculate conception and that I was that blessed. I told him to alert the media if that was the case, and that I would need an agent and book deal ASAP. Anyway, once he stopped laughing, he then was my new best friend, despite being slightly creepy. He told me he wold give me extra drugs since last time I woke up in the middle of the procedure. Then he proceeded to yell across the room at me from the other guy's bed who was also having a TEE. It was basically a three ring circus.

So, eventually Dr. K rolled in to shove a camera down my throat. Luckily, there is more room now, being that I am sans tonsils. They rolled me onto my left side, sprayed my throat with some awesome numbing spray, and went to town. I still have no recollection of the camera going in, but I certainly remember it being down my throat, and choking on it. A LOT. And I remember gagging on it as it came out. Someone was holding my hand, and someone else was holding my head still, despite my best efforts to jerk it back away from the probe. I remember trying to look at the screen and not being able to, which just pissed me off. I should really get to see my own heart, but there was a pillow in the way. I guess this is good, since otherwise my head would have been on the metal guard rail of the bed. Anyway, I tried to relax and let them go to town, but it wasn't quite as smooth as the last time (although, in my defense, I am fairly certain I didn't throw up, and I am pretty sure last time I did, since I woke up in a new gown). Apparently it was a short procedure, like under 10 minutes, and then we were done. I asked the doctor right away how it looked. I don't remember much of his answer other than "good" and that the tumor was still there, and he would need to compare it to past tests, but it appeared to be possibly slight bigger, but he wasn't worried. I figure the fact that he didn't book me into an operating room right then and there says something.

Now, post TEE is the best feeling in the world. You just lay there, all drugged up and out of it, and have no worries, no responsibilities, and no where to be. I sucked on some ice chips (ok, Bill fed me ice chips...I think we are married in some countries now), and listened the other guy have his TEE (his did not go well, as he tried to talk in the middle apparently...not a good idea!). Eventually they rolled me back to the original room where I was able to watch TV and sleep on and off for a while. They actually had to put me back on Oxygen (I just remembered this, I was THAT out of it), because my blood oxygen kept dropping when I would fall asleep. I think I was just that exhausted that I kept forgetting to take deep breaths. I was THAT relaxed. They made me walk around, gave me some water and jello, and went over the 7000 page discharge packet. The new nurse felt the need to read EVERY SINGLE line. I was ready to murder her by page 2.

Eventually she let me roll downstairs and packed me into Becky's awaiting car. I have the best friends in the whole world (let me remind you Becky was the one that picked me up after my gallbladder surgery, which was when I puked fluorescent green into a bag in her car, and yet she still came back)! Becky took me to lunch where I was excited to sort of have an appetite after fasting that morning and not really eating the day before due to a sore throat. I kept down some soup and half a sandwich, and Becky dropped me off at home. I walked inside, sat down on the couch, and opened my computer to email my cousin, who had sent me an email to check in. I woke up a half hour later, still sitting on the couch, computer open, and a half written email on the screen. I moved to my bed and sat up the pillows to finish the email. Woke up two hours later with the same email still on the screen, STILL sitting up. I was seriously drugged and woozy. I don't remember most of last night, other than eating a little bit of french toast (my new favorite dinner), and perhaps making a phone call or two. I understand now why they don't let you drive.

Anyway, so, I am glad the day is behind me. The second time was harder than the first because I knew how miserable it was going to be. The first time I was convinced it would be easy. I was sore today, I think from fighting the probe and having the nurses have to hold my head in place for a while, my neck and shoulders are just pissed. Deep down in my throat, probably my esophagus, is sore when I swallow food, so I am sticking to somewhat soft foods. I am awaiting the results, and not letting the wait get to me. I figure the doctor will call me if it is serious, and I will call the doctor when I haven't heard from him. I don't have any symptoms, no chest pain, no shortness of breath, and I can still keep up a good workout, so I am sure I am fine for the time being. I think it is just important to have a good attitude and enjoy life for what it is. I mean, right? Look at the world around us and how many people have so much worse going on in their lives. I am lucky, I have damn good insurance (I guess we will see how good when they get my reimbursement request from yesterday), good family and friends, and a ton of people who support and love me. I get to go on a great adventure this year and further explore the outdoors and the middle of this country. I will be so much closer (airplane-wise) to so many people in my life, so I will hopefully be making some visits and enjoying some great time with all of you! I know it's a little cliche, but this kind of thing just makes me want to take more advantage of my opportunities and make the best of what this world has to offer. Life is too short to sit around and wait for something to happen, so prepare your foldout couches, cuz here I come!!

Lifetime Movies and Cupcakes!

So this week is SEEC (The Space Educators Exploration Conference). This is my 5th SEEC, and by far the one I am least involved in, which is actually kind of nice. It is the first year I haven't presented (well, ok, last year I didn't present, but I was supposed to until we had a snow day, when it didn't snow and the sun was out by 11am). It is actually kind of nice just to show up for the tours, or the booth, and not have to worry about using actual brain power.

Speaking of brain power, I am finally back to almost 100% brain function. I mean, not that my brain wasn't functioning, but ever since March 2011, i have felt like real focus and thinking required a little too much energy. Now I am able to focus again, and face things head on. We went to Vegas last weekend and I was able to gamble without getting overwhelmed after like an hour (not that I am a huge gambler, but it goes downhill very quickly when I am too tired to focus). Vegas was awesome because it was just a few close friends and we barely left the hotel. Kiyomi met Jessica, Lori, and I at the Golden Nugget and we ate some buffet food for lunch before gambling all afternoon and walking around a bit, and then hitting the beds by 9:30 (no judging, that is 11:30 Houston time, and we had worked all week). Saturday was much of the same, and we made great friends with the dealers by the pool. I finally got my appetite back at some point on this trip, so we ate some great seafood and had amazing dessert on Saturday, and then met up with Erin and Aaron for a little while before Kiyomi and I wimped out and went to bed, again before midnight. Jessica wasn't far behind. We are, apparently, old.

The big move to New Mexico is still on the books, but still nothing is officially official. Apparently some guy way up the chain at the Air Force has to sign something. Government agencies are all the same, people like to sit on things and not sign them for as long as freakin' possible. I mean, seriously people!?! So, I am continuing to prepare for LJ to come and take over my job for 6 months, and hopefully it actually happens so I can get out of Houston, and out of the office, before I lose is completely, quit my job, and move to Australia (don't think I haven't already checked tickets).

I looked up today how to submit a movie idea to Lifetime. I mean, c'mon, I may as well make some money out of that which is my life. I thought this was particularly funny: http://blurtblog.net/2010/04/21/how-to-write-a-movie-for-lifetime-tv/ I don't have all these requirements, but I still think Lifetime would be interested. Apparently I need an agent, anyone interested in representing me? A successful past in representing rich writers and a relationship with Lifetime would both be helpful things for you to have. I have the screenplay basically written on my desktop, entitle "Journal, 2011." I mean, obviously I would need a new title. We have some options at work, but I am totally taking suggestions.

Jessica and I are walking in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. Don't worry, you will all get hit up for donations, so start saving now. We decided to walk it in New York, so we can see a cool city while walking 40 miles. Plus, I will have a gazillion hotel points after living in a hotel for 6 months, so we will be having a damn good time in a fancy hotel in New York City during this trip. I made Jessica promise she would train for this. Even though she appears to be thin and healthy, that girl does not exercise. I am thinking about fundraising by having side bets about how many actually days she walks between now and October. Anyone interested? We are doing fundraisers to raise money for the donation we have to make ($1800), and next Friday we are selling cupcakes from her cousin's cupcake truck. If you are local, come on out to Bullritos and buy a cupcake from us! If you are not local, just send a check and I'll eat a cupcake for you!