subtle messages

Today was already a busy day when the phone rang this morning.

Could I please come in to see my specialist (who was taking it slow after her illness and could only work short hours) at 1:45 today.

Yup. Dropped everything and went to Brandon. After, of course, checking in at the "celebration of learning" translation: open house/show and tell at the elementary school. And returning to drop my children off with my sister-in-law who was welcoming as she thought she could get something done with them occupying my nephew. I'll refer you to facebook to see the photos - she didn't get a lot done, I'm guessing.

I'm still fighting that flare-up. I have discovered things:

#1 - I don't do well without coffee, but have cut down to two cups per day maximum. And that is my only caffeine intake.
#2 - If I sleep when I'm tired, I have a better day the next day. Yes, I'm almost 35, and I finally figured that out. But seriously, if I can hit the hay at 8 p.m., I can almost function the next day. Too bad the kids don't go to bed until 8:30.
#3 - Imodium is a coping mechanism. And it can be swallowed without water, although you have to watch the gagging. That's embarrassing.
#4 - Things that are more embarrassing than choking on your imodium include ordering a baked potato for supper and only drinking water. Expensive restaurant - my bill: $2.52. I tipped really well.

Anyway, my appointment. My doctor sat there with an IV shunt sticking out of her hand and told me that I had lovely bowels. That was surreal in itself. She told me my pictures were "perfect". I'm so proud.

Yet, I explained, I still have pain, and I still have nasty problems with eating. So, after asking me to describe my movements (another moment where I'm glad I am a mom - when did you pay attention to your last BM? And do you have the words to describe it?) she started writing on her little lab sheet. Then the doctor suggested that she wanted an MRI of my pancreas (congratulations, you will now go through another MRI, on another part of your body...) and would like to get that capsule endoscopy done.

Now, she says, if all of these come back clean, we'll have to call it IBS. At this point, I interjected with "and I suffer" - but no, apparently I get better. She believes this has all been triggered by some strange infection last year - like 2007 - which will go away if my lining ever heals up. She weighed me (I'm down a bit, but not into the "underweight" category quite yet) and I wandered down the hall to get my blood work done at the clinic lab.

The receptionist nicely informed me that I couldn't get all of those tests done there, and would have to go to the hospital to get them. Oh. I mentioned that I was from out of town, she suggested that my local lab could help me better. Oh.

So, I went down to my car, dialed my cellphone to my local lab (long distance, of course) and started reading off all of the tests on the little sheet. To the lab receptionist. Who finally clued in and turned me over to a lab tech. Kim informed me that they had to order most of the stuff to do the tests from Brandon and that we'd save everyone some time if I just walked across the street and got them to start them. I thanked her, watched as my doctor winced and grimaced as she got into her car right across from mine and went to the hospital. Behind my doctor, who I think might actually have been a patient.

Anyway, the poor lab receptionist at the hospital had to call for technical assistance on this laundry list of tests that they ran. So I eventually got brought into the little room, they took my blood, and then I was presented with three orange biohazard bags. Full. Of containers. That I had to fill. And then they explained how I had to fill these containers.

I looked at the poopie one. It has a fill line. And if you go over that, apparently it becomes messy when they centrifuge it. Don't think about that. I think that might be the worst job ever. But I asked for another paint-like pail, just in case. I wouldn't want to make the poop-centrifuge-operator's job worse. The lab technicians told me not to return it if I don't use it...

But then they put it in another orange biohazard bag. So I got to leave the hospital, by the spiffy, main, front doors, carrying four large orange biohazard bags. That's a subtle exit, hunh?

coffee and chardonnay

I am a weak person. I should have been able to give something up for Lent. Didn't even try this year.

My daughters know how I love my coffee. Jo has used it as the definition of "addiction" when asked in her classroom. Every child who has ever had me for a camp Guider knows how much I have to have my coffee.

But, I'm supposed to try to cut out coffee. All of it. Not even allowed decaf, if I follow one of the "IBS Diets" on the internet.

That is an impossible task. I am indeed very, very requiring of coffee. I'm down a cup today (Dale is drinking more and making smaller pots to help me along in my cutbacks). My mood is diminished. Destroyed. I could go on...

I'm allowed all the peppermint tea I can drink. This has ruined peppermint tea. What a lame substitute for the soothing brew of coffee. There is no substance to peppermint tea. It is hot water with leaves.

Part of my mood problem is that I'm having a flare right now. So I'm taking another break from eating - following the suggestions of what to do when you have a flare. Good job it is Good Friday, but my willpower is waning. I'm just hungry. And grumpy. Boost doesn't fill you up, but I'm out of options on the diet. I had a few digestive biscuits - those seem to always be okay, so do arrowroot cookies, nilla wafers and milk. Wow.

I've had two suppers out this week. They were pill-popping nightmares, despite the fact I was trying to behave. I wasn't concerned about the flare, thought I could deal with it with imodium and tylenol, as I'd finally had my repeatedly rescheduled specialist's appointment scheduled for Tuesday.

Until they called again - she'd had a family emergency. They'll call when they can reschedule. Again.

So I'm a grouch. And I need better drugs. And I have to eat out twice more this coming week - I had no problems when I was on vacation, but eating out sure is causing problems now. I'm just frustrated.

I'm ignoring the part of the diet that says I have to give up wine. That doesn't hurt me (mind you, neither does coffee). And I have to have some pleasure in this liquid existence.

I did have a good giggle reading an article on giving things up for Lent yesterday. I don't know if trying to follow this internet diet is the right thing to do, but until I get to see that specialist, I don't know what else to try. I guess, in the meantime, this self-deprivation what I'm doing for Lent. Too bad that I won't be able to quit in time for Easter.

Friendly Manitoba

Wow, I love living on the prairies. Friendly Manitoba, it just sounds so welcoming. We won't mention Manitoba - Spirited Energy.

Know why we're so welcoming? Why we're so friendly?

The weather here sucks. I don't have a better word. Most of my friends are using unprintables on facebook to describe it. So the unpredictable weather is frustrating/annoying/irritating/aggravating/horrid (Jo is helping me here...)

Anyway, the weather makes everyone slightly cynical but also teaches every Manitoban that there are things in life that can't be changed. So it makes us laid back too. Even if you're a transplant (like me), eventually the attitude will rub off on you.

Yesterday Jo had a test day to travel to in Saskatchewan. It was an early start, so we all got up at 6:30 and I got my extra kid (some things about skating never change) and we set out. The gravel was greasy/slippery, which isn't odd when we begin spring melt. When the ground is still frozen a few inches down, but it turns to mud on top, driving isn't so fun.

This time, the gravel was greasy due to the first downpour of the season, complete with thunder and lightning. A thunderstorm. In March. It poured. And when it wasn't pouring, it rained ice pellets. The wind really helped - it seemed to be blowing at about the same speed I wanted to travel - crossways, of course.

I stopped for a break at Kirkella (one of two government sponsored potties on the trans-Canada highway in Manitoba - we have one coming in and one leaving the province - I guess you're supposed to hold it all the way through the rest?) Anyway, as I continue West along #1, past the Welcome to Saskatchewan signs, the rain stops. Or at least slows down to the point of "intermittent" on the wipers.

So we got the skating done, left in fog (that wasn't fun, but on four lanes, it's driveable), got our ice cream at the DQ in Moosomin. You just have to stop at the DQ in Moosomin - slowest one in the country, but when there is nothing else for two hours either way, a hot fudge milkshake really hits the spot!

We crossed the border back into Manitoba. I could tell, because the fog had been replaced with sheets of rain and gale force winds. Again. Or, more accurately, still. It rained all day while we were away. We're hearing amounts of three inches. And, since the ground is still frozen underneath, all that is happening is that our remaining snow is all turning the consistency of the proverbial Manitoba Slurpee. I discovered that first hand when I tried to get into my driveway.

And virtually everyone has water in their basements as the weeping tiles are still frozen. We're okay - this is higher ground, so our lakes are in the usual spots - in front of the quonset (that Dale got the oats out of Friday, thank goodness); down the lane and a new one in front of the shop. We have a bit in our breezeway - no one put flashing between the garage roof and the house roof, so we always get a bit there with an east wind. It's worse than usual, but I had just finished taking a lot of clothes/boots out of there Saturday and putting them away in plastic bins.

We also have a bit in the room under our stairs - but again, I'd just finished putting things in plastic bins in there on Saturday, so again, damage will be minimal. My in-laws house was okay last night, too.

I have heard that the church was in bad shape - buckets and cleanup crew there all afternoon.

And they called off school today, as the water was getting into the schools. Kids are excited for a three day weekend, but my facebook friends are already worried about a two-week spring break (we start next week).

You see, the weather forecast is calling for a continuation of this Colorado Low - this time dropping six inches of snow on us, starting tonight.

shoes

It seems to me that I buy more stuff before vacations than when I'm actually on vacation.

I know I live a cheap life here on the farm. Not having malls to tempt me to spend money leads to online shopping. And there, well, I do my part for the economy.

Some things I can buy very well online. Shoes, not so much. At least I don't have an obsession with shoes. I really only need a few pairs - I like to have one pair of black and navy dress shoes, a pair of brown and black pant shoes and then walkers. So I'm not sure why I have so much trouble fulfilling my needs.

My favourite example is a pair of navy blue pumps. I love the shoes. They are cute. They fit, which is a challenge in itself.

But, whatever designer thought that it would be fun to put a 2 1/2 inch heel (for those of you who are metric, that's almost 6 and a half centimeters) on a 9 inch (23 cm) footbed was sadistic. I can't walk in that. Seriously. Small footed people should not wear heels over 1 1/2 inches, unless they are contortionists or ballet dancers who are used to standing on the tips of their toes.

I think I'll end up donating those shoes - I had bought them to replace the navy pumps that I paid $14 years ago - they look awful now. But at least I can walk in them. Maybe shoe polish would clean them up.

So this week, I was looking for shoes for my vacation. I have shoes that I love - Merrell Primo Chill slides. The only issue with them is their colour - they're moss green. I'm trying to take "nicer" clothes with me on vacation - mostly black pants. And a lint brush. But moss green slides will probably look pretty scary with my put together outfits. I'm trying to keep everyone in darkish and bright colours, as I have to do laundry while away, so having two loads instead of twenty would be nice. My ideal pair of shoes? Black, low heel for walking, but maybe a bit dressy so I could wear it with my dress.

Char and I went to Brandon to look for black walking shoes. We did the whole mall. No one stocks my size in shoes. I would have paid full price if I could have found a pair that fit. Ended up with a compromise pair of black tender tootsies for $15 at Walmart. I'm not really all that happy with them - they'll work, but they look like old lady shoes.

I did much better for the girls - only had Char with me, but Jo is close enough to my size that I was able to get dressy walkers, soccer cleats and rubber boots for both kids.

So, again, I'm trying to shop to find shoes online. I'll let you know how it turns out - I'll pay a pile of cash, I'm sure, but maybe I'll find what I like. And Sears stocks my size.

a matter of perspective?

So, I'm still mad. But I'm down to a simmer now, not the furious rage that I was in last night.

Perhaps I should explain. Once again, I was called to make food for the Hamiota rink. Sunday, for 5 p.m., the rink required a dutch oven of mashed potatoes.

Okay. The food didn't cost anything besides labour - they were from last summer. So that was not a big deal. The potatoes, being from last summer, were difficult to peel. Still fine for mashing, but when the spuds start to get soft they are tough to peel. Try to run your vegetable peeler over a soft plum, or a banana - you'll get the idea.

Anyway, Sunday afternoon came around and I was still suffering from a pressure headache - not quite over the cold. But, Dale was busy working in his shop - making the mezzanine - it has to be done, and I was afraid that my child labour would peel more fingers than potatoes. So, I set to work.

I peeled, cut, cooked the potatoes. Let the mixmaster do the mashing (best invention ever when you're making 5 or 6 litres of potatoes at a time). Sent them in with Dale and the kids - they were going to meet our new niece, but I won't get to until I'm over this bug.

Anyway, I got around to making dinner (porcupines, more mashed potatoes and peas), and sent a text to Dale to remind him about the meal. That time change certainly messes things up around here! He called back - he'd stopped by the rink and picked up my pot.

It was full. Of mashed potatoes. They didn't use them.

I cried.

Seriously, I cried, wailed, threw a big angry temper tantrum.

I don't think I have ever had a more useless afternoon when I needed to do so much stuff.

To put it in perspective, my Sparks/Brownies/Guides/Pathfinders are singing in festival this week, besides their regular meeting. My festival committee is hosting two days worth of vocal festival. The skating club in Shoal Lake is holding their dress rehearsal, photo session and Ice Show this week. And Kenton is having their windup. Of course the kids are singing in festival, they are singing in choirs as well. Oh, and there are taxes to do. I am a little behind in my "organized" life.

But, nonetheless, I could feed my family potatoes for the whole week. They're already cooked. Cold...mashed...potatoes...no milk, cause they're for the rink...cold. Ick.

While at the rink today, I mentioned how upset I was to a Skating grandma. She and her friend were there trying to organize the kitchen after the provincial Atom Hockey tournament this week. Now, I was pretty depressed about eating mashed potatoes for the whole week. Narrow minded, shallow little girl that I am.

Gladys immediately wanted me to bring them to the rink so they could make them into perogies. I'd forgotten how many potatoes we peeled and cooked and mashed to make those things - I buy perogies in a bag so never to relive those skating perogy bees. Can you say "Hunky Bill's?"

Margaret Ann was even more thrilled. Could I please bring them up so she could make potato soup for the auction sale.

Sold. I will take my dutch oven of cold mashed potatoes to the other rink on Wednesday. I hope they enjoy the potato soup.

Good job they gave me an ice cream bucket to take them in - it was going to be hard to explain the big spoon marks where Dale had been digging into the cold, icky, mashed potatoes.

meetings

This week has been full of meetings.

Really, what week isn't?

I think of my sister, who has too many playdate meetings and entirely useless work meetings. I think of my brother, dealing with horrendous federal government meetings. And he blogs about them, so I get to experience it too. Since I have their examples, I feel blessed in my life to (mostly) only attend meetings that I actually want to. Most of the meetings this week were good:

Tuesday, Dale and I skipped town to go to the Farm Credit Canada Forum entitled "Big Ideas for your Future" That was actually useful, in my humble opinion. Yes, I was sick (I have the 10 day cold - I think I'm on day 6 now), but it was indeed nice to hear positive things about agriculture. It was interesting to hear the Wealthy Barber and his take on today's financial markets. And cool to hear Rex Murphy in person. Then we rushed home to pick up the kids (we had left them at the neighbours' with a babysitter) and celebrated birthday number one this week.

Today I drove to Portage La Prairie to find out about new chemistry offerings in Plant Health from BASF. Again, I was sick, but coffee is great for the cold, although nasty on the GI tract. But, the speakers weren't bad, and once you take out the obvious need for a chemical company to sell more stuff, the products may actually have a fit on the farm. And, with any luck, we'll be doing a yield trial on one of their products this year. I made it home just in time to go to Sparks/Brownies/Guides/Pathfinders, which was fun. I couldn't shout, which probably made it fun for the kids too!

But, Wednesday I felt awful. Fortunately, I didn't have too much on the slate. I could have sent Dale to the rink with the girls except that finally, the co-president of the Figure Skating Club called her first meeting. I had also promised to clean out the locker so that the Atom Provincial teams can use all the lockers this weekend. Actually, the same co-president had been told that we were to do that, but she didn't tell anyone. So when the organizer came up to me to ask when we were going to do it, I just suggested Wednesday, as I was running out the door when he asked.

Anyway, I went to skating, dropped my PDA on the concrete, dumped my peppermint tea on the locker floor while I was cleaning it out and eventually went to the meeting.

I guess I should have listened to my sister and stayed home. The co-presidents convened this meeting to ask who could go to a meeting on March 10th that is to deal with a potential lottery/raffle opportunity. The committee looking for the partner in this raffle/lottery thing already stated that it was for capital expenditures or special projects, of which the figure skating club has none. I pointed that out. We need money to pay the bills, which is, unfortunately, not in the criteria.

The other item on the agenda was another meeting (that the co-presidents can't attend) on March 24th to deal with funding opportunities through Sport Manitoba. Which, I suspect, is more for "disadvantaged" athletes than for continuation of the club.

The point is, this could have been accomplished with a two sentence e-mail. One sentence, if the writer was eloquent. Hit reply all, find a delegate, and let me stay home.

I don't wish this plague on anyone, although I have threatened to cough on anyone else who returns fundraising chocolate bars unsold. Perhaps I should extend the threat to people who call ridiculous meetings!

salt

They finally salted the roads. Wow. Took 10 days, but we finally have almost driveable highways. So I took the car for the first time in forever and went to town to do some errands.

Since they canceled my specialist appointment yesterday, I got whiny. And got a hold of my GP, who, since she is also a friend, I don't e-mail outside of the office about office stuff. My desperation had been caused by being in the middle of a flare and not seeing any potential for change in the situation.

She was kind and gave me an immediate pill solution, and then looked into my file, dug out my biopsy results (the primary reason behind my specialist appointment) and found out they were clean. Which probably means Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

So two days ago I got to start a new IBS diet. Eat things with soluble fibre. Okay. Soluble fibre. Hmmm.

Turns out that the types of fibre that I like to eat, that I truly enjoy, are insoluble. So they need to be eaten in moderation. The types of fibre that I'm not as fond of (but hey, anything is better than nothing) I'm supposed to eat. Oats are good, Wheat is not so great. Some fruits are good, others not. It's complicated.

And I'm supposed to cut back (actually cut out, but I don't know if I'm that strong) coffee. Decaf still counts as coffee. So that sucks. I just bought a new coffeepot (again) - one that pours better. Too bad I have to make smaller pots.

But, between the new diet and the allowance for imodium and tylenol as necessary I have been coping better this week. Supper is a bowl of cheerios, but that beats the heck out of boost. And, for those days when I still need to have boost (rink days - it's just safer when I'm driving), I can have fibre supplements when I get home.

At least it is a change. Things are not going to get better when dealing with my kids' activities. They will be busy, and therefore, so will I. It's really a short period in life, I keep telling myself. And maybe, when I have more control over my life's business (or do I mean busy-ness) my body will stop rebelling. In the meantime, coping sounds good.