Clear As Mud

This photo brought to you by this year's Japanese Beetles.  I.hate.them!

This is a first in the Addiverse: I am writing this post while seated in an ER cubicle.  I do so love a new adventure.  No worries--I'm not here for me or for anyone you know.  I'm here for work, sitting with a client, while I serve as the on-call supervisor.  I wish I could tell you the story, as it is very fitting for the Addiverse, but it would not be appropriate.  Every once in awhile, I squeak out  a bit of professionalism.


Remember the days when there were HUGE signs in ERs warning that cell phone use was strictly prohibited? Well, I guess those days are done because I'm sitting in an ER and I'm using the Internet...using THEIR Wi-Fi connection. Earlier, I was using my smart phone to make comments on Book de la Face.  I'm on call using an on call cell phone.  I love technology.  Makes having to stay up all night much less painless.


I find it quite telling that I forgot to bring a snack along but remembered to bring my computer. I never go to the ER without a snack because you never know how long you'll get stuck there.  Well, this was quite the faux pas as the ER iss packed, the labs are backed up like the landing pattern at O'Hare and the problem my client is experiencing is not exactly a life-threatening event.  (Well, I suppose it could be.  I'm no doctor and I don't play one on TV.  I'm gonna feel really bad if it turns out to be something awful. Boy, I so want to talk about the symptoms.....so appropriate for me, so inappropriate to share.  Damn confidentiality!)


Back to me, girl in need of a snack.  This was what I had planned on blogging about: the clear as mud-ness of being a perimenopausal woman.


Those of you who are or who have been my age will understand my confusion.  Those of you who are male or much younger will not understand one bit.  Well, piss on you!  I stand in solidarity with my perimenopausal sisters. 

Here's the thing: I have a variety of mysterious "things" going on in my body right now.  I hate to call them symptoms, as I am not sure the things I am experiencing are anything of any consequence.  I can't tell what might be what. Is it my thyroid? Is it perimenopause? Is it mental illness? Is it stress? Is it an existing medical issue? Is it a new medical issue?  Is it my pathetic sugar-based diet? Is it the remnants of eating s'mores at every meal for a week? Is it some of these, all of these, none of these?  I don't feel like I'm stressed.  I think I'm shooting eggs out without issue. I think it's pretty normal that someone my age can't remember things and gain a pooch....but, really: How the hell does anyone my age ever figure out what something is or isn't?  It hurts my head. 

Everything is clear as mud. 

To seek knowledge, I went to webmd and plugged in my "symptoms."  I am here to tell you that webmd doesn't do much more than scare the poop out of you--it adds terror to your confusion. So, I may have one of 20 issues, 8 of which are frightening to consider, 10 of which seem plausible and two of which focus on having gas.  Since everything I type in seems to overlap with everything else, I know no more than I did before doing all that research and thus will go with having gas.

Since I'm in the ER, I thought about submitting my name for medical services when I registered the client for emergency services.  I decided against that because I am not in an emergency. I am confused, not in crisis.  Of course, one look around the ER waiting room suggests that the majority of people here are not in an emergency, either.  I mean, someone just ordered a pizza and had it delivered to the ER waiting room.  Who the hell does that? People in crisis? Not! 

Hint: If you want immediate attention in an ER, grasp your chest and make sure "chest pain" is the first thing you mutter when approaching the registration area.  You get right in, no questions asked.  This is probably a really good thing because chest pain isn't usually a good sign.  That said, I couldn't believe the people I saw using this ploy: stagger in the door looking all strung out, crawl toward registration, choke out "chest pain," get brought right in.  Of course, they then get thrown back out into the waiting room once the ER staff figure out that supposed chest pain is really "I'm a mess from all that crack and ran out of pain pills."

(Oh my, I'm in a surly mood.  That's what happens when you put a perimenopausal woman on call in an ER in the middle of the night.)



I obviously have a lot of time on my hands during this ER visit and it appears I am going nowhere fast.....so, I have lots of time to search the web for clues to medical mysteries.   Or, I could watch the Disney Channel with the client......

Hell, screw webmd and the Disney Channel.  I'm going to go order a pizza.