I was a bit worried about how it was all going to go.  I wanted the hormones out of my system so I could feel normal again, and it worked. Once they were gone I felt much more myself, the clouds in my head started to part and I was happy again. Well, as happy as I could be at that time.

The problem is, it was like I went into a sort of denial. I just didn’t think about it.  I didn’t have to go to the hospital, I didn’t have to take any medication, I didn’t have hormones blasting through me and I wasn’t having any treatments.  I was just me, living life and not thinking about hospitals or babies.

I even started eating the way I should and lost 8 lbs in the first 1.5 weeks, I was feeling great!

That was, until I went to the hospital for my ‘checking in’ appointment. The one where we were to sit down and discuss exactly what the plan is from here.  I knew generally what the plan was but there were a few details we needed to iron out.  Mainly, exactly how much weight I had to lose and what treatments we’d be doing when the weight is gone.  They want me to do three more IUI with more weight off to see if my chances improve, and if that doesn’t work then move on to IVF.  Which means possibly having as many treatments again as I’ve just had… and that felt like it went on forever.

It was almost like I had post traumatic stress disorder or something.  From the minute I got in the car I could feel myself getting anxious.  I didn’t want to go, I wanted to stay home and blissfully avoid thinking about it… but I couldn’t, we had to figure these things out and make a plan.

When I walked through the doors of the hospital my anxiety levels went through the roof.  I got this weird feeling like my insides were shaking.  Like my body was still but all my organs were shivering.  I don’t know if I’m the only one that happens to but it’s a bizarre and uncomfortable feeling that just got worse the longer I was there.

It was raining that day and Xander dropped me off at the door.  As I stood inside the entrance waiting for him, a woman walked through the door.  She was heavily pregnant and I just couldn’t stop staring.  I’m sure she’s probably used to, at least I hope so, because I just couldn’t look away.  It was then that it all hit me… before that I was anxious and felt strange but my mind was still reasonably functional. When I saw that woman, I felt like Wile E. Coyote getting crushed by my own ten-ton boulder.  I suddenly felt this crushing weight coming down on me and it was hard to breathe.  It hit me… THAT is why I am here, I remember now.  Not that I forgot, it just wasn’t as fresh and raw in my mind until I got that reminder.

I tried to work through it and not let it show as Xander came in and we made our way up to the gynecology department.  Thankfully the waiting room was empty and we didn’t even wait five minutes… but during our appointment I could hardly think because I was working so hard to stop myself from crying.  It was the same as we stood at reception waiting for them to sort out blood work papers and follow-up appointments.  All I could think was, type faster… please just give me my card so I can leave before I embarrass myself!  Honestly, I hardly spoke and Xander made all the arrangements.

I couldn’t get out of the hospital quick enough, it was like there was no air in the building and I was rushing for the doors just to be able to catch my breath.  When I got to the car I fell to pieces… I cried and sobbed while saying how I didn’t even understand why I was crying at all, I didn’t know what was wrong with me.  I guess I wasn’t as ‘over it’ as I thought I was.

It was probably silly of me to think I would be.  It was a long and difficult year for me so far and I should have known that just stopping the hormones wasn’t going to suddenly make everything better.  I was just eager to get back to my normal life without all of this surrounding me every day and didn’t take the time to deal with my feelings about everything.

I know now why I had the reaction I did, because it was a cold hard slap of reality.  It made me realize that it’s not over.  Not even close. In fact, depending on how many more treatments I need to have, I’m not even half through.  When you factor in the time I’m going to have to spend trying to lose more weight, I’m not even 1/3 of the way through.  I don’t have a break at all, there is no break, there is only hard work, stress and an incredible amount of pressure.

All of a sudden that blissful avoidance came to a screeching halt and panic and depression took over.  Losing weight is so hard even in the best of situations, having this sort of pressure and feeling like our entire lives depend on it makes it so much more difficult.  I’m an emotional eater, I always have been, and how do I lose weight when I am feeling this way?  For the past week I’ve been in a total funk, I’ve been eating things I know I shouldn’t and hating myself for it… which, of course, just makes me feel worse.  It’s a spiral and I am spinning around screaming inside of it.

I think a part of me is angry. I’m angry that I spent 6 months of my life NOT losing weight… and all for nothing.  I went through all those treatments, the months of hormone insanity and I have nothing to show for it.  My weight is now what it was in October of last year, and when I think of the weight I COULD be at if I hadn’t had those treatments, it pisses me off!

I also think a part of me is scared.  I want to lose weight to look and feel good, but there is a small part of me that dreads … DREADS… even the idea of starting the medications, emotional turmoil and poking and prodding again.  So maybe I am somehow subconsciously sabotaging myself by stuffing my face and not losing the weight I should be right now?

I don’t know.  All I know is that I’m struggling, mentally and physically.  I’m struggling to find the strength to get over this next hurdle of losing the weight.  I’m afraid that I am going to spend even more time fighting and working towards a goal that may never happen.   If I feel this way now, how angry am I going to be a year from now when it’s all over and I possibly have nothing to show for it?

I know what I have to do.  I have to go through the dreaded detox period of my diet again.  I need to get the sugar and cravings out of my system, find the strength to give myself the boundaries I used to have and get the weight off once and for all.  I also need to learn how to deal with people who criticize my choice of diet and actively try to convince me that I should be eating things like ice cream and cake, because it’s fun.  They don’t understand the pressure I am under and while I know some part of them must mean well, I really wonder would they ask an alcoholic to just have a few shots with them… because it’s fun and they should be enjoying life.

Anyhow, I can’t say that today is going to be the day I make the change.  Maybe it won’t even be tomorrow, or Sunday.  I’m going to get there though.  I’ve found the motivation and strength to do it before, it’s just a little harder now because I have some mental shit I need to sort through before I can take this on.

For now, I consider my first step just acknowledging the fact that I’m struggling rather than avoiding it and hoping it magically sorts itself out.  I know I’m in trouble and I need to get my head on straight, so that will be what I work on first.  Coming to terms with the fact that this is a much more long and difficult road than I thought I was going to be on. Dealing with my feelings of disappointment and anger, which are pretty huge right now.

Then I can deal with the diet…

For now, this will be my theme song, it really hits home with me because it’s exactly how I feel at the moment.  I made my first step, I acknowledged and admitted that I’m struggling. I’ve made it 99…

Related posts:

1. Gonna Get My Hump On
2. A Well Deserved Break. Well, Sorta.
3. 30 Days of Truth: Day 29

Well, if you can call it a break, but I will get to that in a moment…

Some people have been asking what is going on with us and the fertility treatments.  I’ve not written about it in a while just because I’ve been too exhausted both physically and emotionally.

For the last five months, I have spent a LOT of time (and by a lot I mean way too freaking much) here:

Because my life has revolved around this…

Don’t get excited, there is no baby in there.  That’s an egg follicle.  Every month I had to go to the hospital 3-4 times within one week so they could monitor the growth of my eggs.  This was in preparation for my IUI procedure.  When the egg follicles were mature they would induce ovulation.

Oh, and before you think that’s really not such a big deal (and I’m looking at most of the men here), because you think of ultrasounds like in the movies where they put the blob of gel on the lady’s belly?  No.  Hell no.

You know, I’m not even going to resize that photo because I think it needs to be left nice and big, just so you really get the idea of what I’m trying to tell you. This is what they use for these kinds of ultrasounds, and it does not go on the outside.  I call it the Ultrasound Dildo.  Oh, and just when I would think it ccouldn’t get any more fun than this, it often turned out I’d be having the echo done by some random male intern who looked like he couldn’t be a day over 22.  Oh yah, Doogie Howser, good times!

I can safely say that these fertility treatments have pretty much removed any shred of modesty I had left.  I’m not sure if that’s a good  or bad thing but right about now the homeless guy outside the supermarket could ask to look all up in my lady business and I’d probably let him without even missing a beat.

So anyway, now that I’ve left you with that mental image, I will move on.

In order to grow these egg follicles (plural) my life has also revolved around these…

Daily injections in my stomach and a monthly whopper of an injection in my thigh.  Thankfully I am not even remotely afraid of needles and got quite good at giving myself the injections.  I really feel for the women who are afraid of needles and have to do this every day.

Even though I am not bothered by the needles, that doesn’t mean the injections were a walk in the park.  Sometimes, for whatever reason, it would really hurt.. like REALLY hurt.  I don’t know if I was hitting something or if some days I was just more sensitive than others, but there were times where I had a really hard time with the injections because of the pain.

The worst part though?  The results…  these were hormones I was pumping into myself and I am crazy sensitive and emotional anyway.  With the injections it was like PMS all month long, and that was no fun at all.  Not for me or for anyone around me.  The fact that this was taking place during the winter, when my mood usually takes a dip anyway, and fresh off the back of a surgery?  Let’s just say, it made for a rather unpleasant situation.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one suffering.  My husband suffered, even though his life really only revolved around this.

No seriously, they really are his sperm!

Yes, suffer he did, by proxy of course.  I know I was an absolute nightmare to live with but he did everything he could to try to make it a little easier for me.

Especially during this time… after the procedure was finished and my mind was going crazy, because that’s when the real insanity starts.  Once the insemination was done and I was facing the dreaded two week wait, which always starts with this 20 minutes of laying still right afterwards.  Two weeks is a lot of time to live in that kind of uncertainty, especially when you are up to your eyeballs in hormones.  My head was full of hopes and dreams that kept colliding with my fears and anxieties.  Did I care what I was going to make for dinner, my hobbies, my social life or anything else?  No, it was all about this, every day, 100% of the time… and no amount of telling me to relax, not think about it or go on with my life was going to change that.

So, hubby knew there was only one answer.

Act like a total clown…

… and keep me entertained.

I will love him forever for that, because it didn’t end on that hospital table. It was every day, whether it was urging me to go out and see my friends, curling up with me for a nap in the afternoon, dragging me out for a walk with the dogs or tempting me with photography outings, he did find ways to help make it better sometimes, and that was no easy task.

Ok, he also kept me stocked with chocolate, the man is no fool!  It didn’t bode well for my diet but desperate times call for desperate measures, and these were desperate times indeed.

So, where do things stand now?  It’s over… well, for now anyway.

I have had six cycles of IUI, which is all that I was covered for with my insurance, and this last cycle they really went to town with the drugs. I guess it was a last ditch attempt to make it work, but it didn’t. The evidence of the latest failure came this past weekend and it was a pretty rough time for me.  Even though deep down I’ve always sort of known that IUI wasn’t going to work for us, I was hoping it would.  Of COURSE I was hoping it would, what am I saying, I’d be crazy if I didn’t!  I was disappointed, angry, sad, frustrated, ticked off, PISSED AS HELL!

Now where do we go from here?  That’s the thing, the journey isn’t over.  I am now on a break, if you can call it that.  I need to get back on the wagon and lose another 30-35 lbs in order to move on to IVF.  They were able to start the IUI earlier as this is done at the hospital and it’s at their discretion, but IVF is done at a separate clinic and it’s a firm rule here in the Netherlands that they won’t do it if you have a BMI over 35.

If only I were taller!

On the plus side, I now am getting the chance to let the hormones leave my system, have at least the spring and summer (and probably fall) free from hospital visits, needles, and hormones, and all the other negative shit that is a part of having these treatments.

On the down side… I am not sure it’s really a break at all.  Losing weight is difficult, yes I’ve done it before but I have backtracked and gained about 15 lbs of the 80-85 lbs I’d lost previously. Ok, it could be worse after over five months of the hormones and all that, but still.  It’s hard enough to lose weight without the pressure of our future on top of it.

It’s all on me.  There’s not a thing Xander or anyone else can do to make this happen. It’s me.  Which is fitting, I suppose as it wasn’t anyone else that made me fat to begin with.  So I suppose it should be up to me to make it right.  Still though, knowing that doesn’t make it any easier.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that losing weight is hard in the BEST of situations.  Trying to lose weight while feeling my biological clock ticking in the back of my head, impatience and frustration because I want to do the IVF NOW and get it over with, and having to re-lose weight I’ve already lost.  That’s a bit more difficult.  Both our futures rest on my ability to do this.  All our eggs are in MY basket (pardon the pun) and if we ever want to have a family I HAVE to lose this weight, and soon, because I’m not 25 anymore.

What also makes it difficult is having spent the last five months having one procedure that didn’t work. It feels like it was all for nothing.  I got off track with my weight loss, went through a massive amount of mental anguish and physical pain… for nothing!!! 

I do have the choice of doing three more IUI procedures (if my insurance agrees) after I lose the weight and before moving on to IVF.  After so many IUI already failing a part of me wants to go straight to the IVF, and I also worry about possible weight gain over those three months which will mean another break again before beginning with the IVF.  I will decide that once the weight is off though.  I will probably do the IUI just to completely maximize my chances.  May as well, I guess.

How will I ever cope if I do manage to lose all this weight, have the IVF and that doesn’t work either?  I really don’t know.  With my history of depression tied with infertility, I really worry about what that will do to me mentally. I’m already completely crushed after the IUI’s ending without success, but at least I know there is another step.  We still have IVF ahead of us.  What will I feel and what will I do if IVF doesn’t work and then that it’s, the end?

I really don’t know.  I can’t not try though because I’d never forgive myself. 

So please, be prepared… it’s going to be a rocky few months here on Canadutch!  There may be some ranting and I suspect it will be a lot of talk (and bitching) about weight loss, so please bear with me!

Related posts:

1. Gonna Get My Hump On
2. 100 Steps To Go
3. The Day My Husband Finally Got In My Pants

Today is the day I found out a few things.

I found out that I will have at least one more month of giving myself injections, that in the next few weeks I will have anywhere between 5-7 hospital visits and that my life will once again revolve around hormones.

I found out that for the next three to four weeks I’ll once again be fighting mood swings, side effects, food cravings and emotional tidal waves I’ve been living with for the past three months.  That I’ll spend at least one more month with people telling me just not to think about it, to relax, to go with the flow, think positive and all the other things they try to say to help without realizing that none of that is possible.

This isn’t a flow, it’s a monsoon, and I’m an ant.  I’m being picked up, flipped over, smashed down and spun around and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to control it.  I can’t outrun it, I can’t pretend it’s not there and even if I don’t try to fight it, I still get thrashed about all the same.  I wonder how many people could stand in the middle of a busy highway and just not think about the possibility of being hit… or swim with sharks and just not think about the odds of getting bitten. That’s what it’s like to try not to think about babies, pregnancies, periods, eggs, ovaries, fallopian tubes, sperm counts, cramps, implantation, insemination, hormones, needles, doctors, ultrasounds, medications, and everything else that barrels through your mind day in and day out.

Could they get kicked in the face, stand up, get kicked in the face again, crawl back up, get kicked in the face again, pull themselves back up, get kicked in the face again and the stand up smiling and thinking positive thoughts about how this will be the time that they actually won’t get kicked in the face?  I’d like to meet the person who could do that.

The best part is, that’s just the internal stuff.  The things that go on in the privacy of your own life and mind… that’s not including the feelings and experiences that come up every time you watch a TV show and some teenager is getting pregnant by mistake, log on Facebook to see an ultrasound photo and pregnancy announcement, sit in the waiting room for yet another test while surrounded by swollen pregnant bellies and happy couples or have friends make hurtful comments without even realizing they are doing it, because they’ve never been where you are.  I can’t even begin to explain what any of that feels like.

I am so happy for the people around me who are having children and are getting to experience that joy in their lives.  I hope that any friends who read this who are pregnant at the moment or have recently had children don’t think that my excitement for them isn’t genuine, because it is.  That doesn’t mean I’m not envious though, or that I don’t wish we could have the same.  It’s always hard to see others having or doing something you desperately want, and when it comes to infertility it’s an entirely different and much more difficult experience.

Anyway… sorry, I had to put in a little disclaimer because I didn’t want people to be hurt or think they can’t share their happiness with me, because they can and one day I do hope to share mine with them.

So, in one or two days I will have to start giving myself the daily hormone injections again.  In a week I will have the first of many hospital visits for this cycle.  In about ten days I will spend an evening going to emergency so a stranger can give me a needle in my ass and in almost two weeks I will have my fifth IUI.

That’s not even when the fun begins, because after that is the wait.  The 10-12 days of side effects from the drugs, food cravings due to the hormones and stress and the anxiety that all of it creates.

I’m pretty sure that in 22-25 days I will be sitting right here, feeling the same way I’m feeling right now and dreading the month to come yet again.

In between all of these things, I will be spending time with my husband and trying not to talk to him about it too much and put too much strain on our marriage.  Spending most of my time hidden on chat programs because I don’t feel like chatting, posting on Facebook too much and wishing I could just ditch it and avoid the babies, pregnancies and people who are getting to do something I so desperately want to do too, and going out to see friends, while trying to appear somewhat more stable and normal than I really am at that moment.

I know I haven’t spoken about this much on here and it’s quite new to many of you.  I know I’ve only been doing the fertility treatments for almost three months (almost 5 cycles)… and people could easily think, pff it’s only been three months!

It’s not though…

It’s 11 years of marriage while never trying to prevent having children.

Four years previously of dire hard attempts, doctors visits, stress and tests.

Almost 12 years together without it ever happening for us.

It’s been 12 years of me feeling broken and empty… a feeling only another woman who has never been able to have a child could ever understand.

It’s been 12 years of wondering why I am the only woman in my entire family, as far back as I can look in either direction, to have any problems getting pregnant.

12 years of frustration and pain, wondering what we could have done so wrong that we don’t deserve that kind of happiness.

So yeah,  I’ve only been having fertility treatments for three months but this has not been only three months for us.  For us it’s been our entire lifetime together.  This issue may have gone on the back burner at times, for the sake of our sanity, but it has never gone away… and we’ve never stopped feeling that missing piece in our lives.

I’m going to stop ranting now, because I’m giving myself a headache… but I saw something today (on Facebook of all places) that really hit home with me.  A video of someone singing about infertility and the desire to have children.  I could do without the wind machine dramatics of the video, but the message is close to my heart.

Related posts:

1. A Well Deserved Break. Well, Sorta.
2. 100 Steps To Go

OMG IT IS SO TOTALLY MY LAPTOP!!

Seriously, if you follow me on Twitter or are friends with me on Facebook, you are all too aware of my cardiac arrest this evening when my laptop died on me.  I got up from a nap and realized it was really slow so I decided to reboot it.  When it came time to start back up, nothing happened.

PANIC!!

I got my husband to do his magic cord pulling and button pressing maneuvers but nothing worked.  That’s when the panic really set in.

While he was messing around with that I got on my phone and started Googling the model number and “won’t start” … I found lots of posts.  That didn’t bode well…  in the end I found this one post where a guy said how he took the laptop apart, removed the video card and used a hair dryer for four minutes (very specific) on this one certain chip.

My husband was like, ummm… I’m not so sure about that.

After watching the video numerous times, and having exhausted all of his magic button pushing, he decided he had nothing to lose.  He took the laptop apart, got out the hair dryer and we both crossed our fingers.

Wouldn’t ya know it, the damn thing started right up!  We couldn’t believe it!!

He suspects that there was something soldered that had come lose and the heat somehow reconnected it.  That sounds feasible.  Whatever it is, I’m sooo glad it’s working again because we really aren’t in position to buy a new one at the moment, and just the thought of going without a laptop gives me the shakes.

Literally… the shakes.

So that is that is the best thing that is going for me at the moment.  My laptop is going and it damn well better keep going or I just may lose the few marbles I have left!

Related posts:

1. 30 Days of Truth: Day 6
2. 30 Days of Truth: Day 9
3. 30 Days of Truth: Day 29

So I still have no idea why my turtles died.  I give them amazing tanks to live in, I take good care of them and even though it’s a total mystery, I can’t help but wonder what I had done wrong.

I ended up with a beautiful big tank and no idea what to do with it.

Stelo was gone, I wasn’t ready for another turtle and had no interest in fish.  I could have put one of my smaller turtles in there, but it felt like such a waste after all the work we put into the above tank basking area.

It was a big, empty sad aquarium that was taking up a lot of space.  For a while I did remove the upper part and tried putting Chip and Sydney in there together, but after having been in their own tanks for a few months the aggression Chip was showing towards Sydney worried me and I set up their smaller tanks again where they could both live in peace.

So I was faced with a choice.  Either get another turtle, possibly an adult as I didn’t know if I was up to dealing with another fragile hatchling, sell the tank and start getting out of the hobby of keeping turtles all together, or try to do a tropical tank or get some kind of interesting fish.

In the end I did come to a decision.

I decided… the hell with fish. I’m a turtle lover at heart!

It had been a little while since I lost Radar and Stelo, and a girl here in the Netherlands who breeds turtles happened to have hatchlings of a breed I’d always wanted but never thought I could get my hands on here.  I also never thought I’d have space for one as I’d reached my maximum capacity with the others.

I rationalized it as fate.  I had an empty tank, and she had the hatchlings… it was meant to be, right?

Let’s just say it was.

He has been with us for the better part of a year now, and I’ve been hesitant to talk about him, write about him or even take photos because I was afraid he’d die on me.  Sort of like if I got too invested that he might up and die on me too.

Don’t try to make sense of my brain.

Anyway, it’s time to introduce him!

Hi, everyone!  My name is Lego!

I don’t think I have to tell anyone how he got his name.  I have a husband who is obsessed with Lego Mindstorms and Robotics. You do the math!

Lego is a Diamondback Terrapin which, in my opinion, is one of the coolest species of turtles there is. I think it’s the white skin or the unique patterns, I don’t know… I just love them.  Here are some more photos…

I just love this little dude, or uhh… dudette. I can’t tell which it is yet so I just say ‘he’ anyway.  Either way, if he dies on me I’ll be very upset. He appears to be going strong so far though, he eats like a pig and is quite active.

Although, judging by the amount of guppies in his tank, I have serious doubts about his hunting abilities.

Related posts:

1. Happy Birthday To Meeee – 32!
2. My Bad Luck With Pets
3. Construction Begins

At that time there were a lot of discussions in regards to whether they were going to cut the tree down because it was weak and in danger of falling over.  It never was torn down though, and to be honest I haven’t thought about it a whole lot since.  Until today.

I just visited the blog of my friend DutchBitch and learned the terrible news that not only were my veggie plants the victim of the fierce winds of late, but also Anne’s beloved Chestnut tree.  It just fell right over.

This makes me sad.

The Anne Frank house is such an important part of the history of Amsterdam. Of this country even.  Day after day, year after year, people come from all over the world just to step behind that bookcase and spend a few moments in the same space that Anne Frank once inhabited.

We all have a moment while we are there, where we step outside of ourselves and try to imagine even just for a second what it was like for her.  We probably never come even close, how can we understand the loneliness and fear that she was experiencing at that time?  There wasn’t a lot there that was truly original after all these years, but the tree was.  It may have been bigger, but it was the same tree.

Now it will be gone.  From now on when people visit the Anne Frank House and look out her bedroom window, what will they see?

I suppose to some it probably sounds silly.  They will think It’s just a tree!, but no… it’s not just a tree. At least not to anyone who has read the book or stood in that room and seen it with their own eyes.

While looking for information after reading DB’s article, I did see something interesting.  Apparently eleven saplings have been taken from the tree and were brought to the United States for planting.

Wait? … What?

Eleven saplings have been taken from the tree in Amsterdam and have been taken to the United States to be planted?

OI, Americans… get your filthy mitts off our tree babies!  Who do we call about tree abduction??

Ok, that lady’s parents’ families were killed in the Holocaust, she can have a tree… but why do they get the other 10?  Seriously, why is at least one of them not staying in Amsterdam, or perhaps the other neighbouring countries that are more closely tied to this bit of history.

HELL, Canada played a major role in saving their butts, why aren’t my peeps getting a tree?  This is a travesty!

WAIT, crisis averted! I found another article. Give me a moment to cool my jets here…

According to this other article there are 150 saplings in Amsterdamse Bos Park.

They’re forgiven.

So there weren’t only 11 saplings, there were tons and they are all over the place.  It turns out that Anne’s tree really isn’t just a tree, it’s like the Octomom of trees!

Related posts:

1. Just a Tree?
2. Shoe Tree
3. Tree Skirt Progress – 1 Week

After almost 11 years living in another country, it still amazes me how deeply I still love Canada.  Especially the east coast.  Nova Scotia is my home, Cape Breton Island holds a piece of my heart and is part of who I am like only another Caper could truly understand…

I’m not at all homesick on Canada Day this year, not even a little bit.  I’m a picture of calm and acceptance.  I am cool personified.

In fact, I didn’t even burst into tears when I heard our national anthem in this video… nor when I saw the dude standing on the rocks at Peggy’s Cove.

Really, I didn’t.  Would I lie to you?

Well, even if I did, it’s not like you can prove it.

Happy Canada Day everyone, especially to all those amazingly friendly, funny and crazy Capers I love so much!  I’ll see you in October!

Related posts:

1. 101 List – Fly Home To Canada Alone
2. Canada, Baby!
3. My Second Day in Canada

We all know I’m terrible for taking long, agonizing walks down Memory Lane, right? Well… I’m at it again!

Out of the blue a few days ago I started humming the theme song to The Littlest Hobo.  When I told my husband about it he had never heard of the show so I started singing the tune to him.  Then today I saw my friend Gail posted a video with the same tune.   Most of you probably have no idea what it is, but if you were a child in the 70’s and 80’s in Canada, this will probably tug at your heartstrings the same as it does mine.

I can’t imagine a child out there who didn’t love The Littlest Hobo.  I know I definitely did.

Then yesterday I was talking with my friend Heather when she brought up Little House on the Prairie, yet another of my childhood faves!  I have always been a huge fan of Michael Landon, who I still consider to be one of the greatest TV stars of all times. 

So handsome, so talented… *sigh*  I literally weeped when he died.   I’m sure I’m not the only one.  I gather he was a bit of a heartthrob!  Thinking of him brought on an entirely new set of memories…

Would could forget him as Little Joe Cartwright in Bonanza??

Then of course, the role most people of our generation will remember him for, playing Charles Ingalls in Little House, based on the books by the real Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Finally, another favorite of mine and his last major role, Jonathan Smith in Highway to Heaven.  Big ups to Victor French too for this one.

I honestly don’t know anyone who had such major and classic roles in television as Michael Landon.  Back in the day when TV shows were less about shock value and more about just honest to goodness family entertainment.  I miss that sometimes.

Heather and I also got to talking about Anne of Green Gables.  Quite possibly one of my favorite stories of all time. No wait, it’s definitely my favorite story of all time, there is no doubt.   I first saw the movies as a child and was completely enamored with Anne (WITH AN E), her Kindred Spirit Diana Barry, her darling Matthew and even Marilla with her strict but loving ways.   I grew up dreaming of having a Gilbert Blythe of my own, but happy to love hers in the meantime.   Always wondering why everyone thought Anne was so ugly because I personally thought Megan Follows was beautiful in the film, even with her short hair.

How could anyone not just love the chemistry between them and not watch it again and again… and again and then one or two more times?!

Ok not an opening theme, but that’s not going to cover how magical the story of Anne and Gilbert was, now is it?  I so totally cried just watching that.  Don’t judge.

Who am I kidding.  I STILL love him!  I’ll also be marathon watching the Anne movies tomorrow, you can bet your ass on that.

It would be wrong of me to not give Road to Avonlea an honorable mention here.  While I did watch it and enjoy it, it was never came close to the OMG FAVE status of Anne of Green Gables or Little House on the Prairie.  It was still a lovely family show though.

Aaaah, I am so nostalgic right now.  I think if I ever had a child, a little girl especially, I would buy box sets of all these shows for them to watch.  There aren’t enough heart warming TV shows with good messages out there anymore, and that is such a pity.

There are other shows I would have added, but I’ve already spoken about them in the past.

Like FAME in I’m Gonna Live Forever!
Also, The Facts of Life in You Take the Good, You Take the Bad…

What shows make you all nostalgic?! 

Related posts:

1. Blast From the Past
2. Blast from the Past!
3. Not Just A Tree

Today I went for my second gastroscopie and all I can say is that it wasn’t as good an experience as the first one.  Everything seemed to be following the same routine as the first time, I went in, they took my blood pressure, laid me down and gave me the drugs.  Then I was off to La La Land.

This time I paid attention when they gave me the drugs and watched the time on the monitor.  He put it in at 25 seconds and the last I remember seeing was 47.  So that stuff works pretty quickly!  I was happy to drift off knowing when I woke up I’d be in the recovery room with Xander laughing at me and my repeated conversations.  That’s not exactly how it happened though.

When I woke up I couldn’t breathe, I was gagging and people were shushing and tutting me while holding me down.  It felt like someone had their fist in my throat and between trying to breathe, trying not to gag and puking up some kind of foam or something, I was terrified!

Had I known this would happen I may have been prepared and not felt so fucked up by it, but I expected, like the last time, to wake up in another room without remembering anything that happened.  Not to wake up in the middle of it in a panic.  It was a total nightmare…  I wasn’t ready and I wasn’t really sure what was going on. 

I remember them wheeling me into the other room and Xander walking in a minute later.  When he asked how it went I just cried.  I felt ridiculous and like a total baby but it was just me and him there and I didn’t care.  It was a really shitty experience and I was totally shaken up by it.  He agreed that something wasn’t right because before I was sleepy and in and out for a while, but this time I was already awake, probably a mixture of there not being enough sedative and masses of adrenaline.   Neither of us were very happy about it but he just sat there and let me cry it out, and then we waited until I could leave.

I came home and the adrenaline wore off quickly, I stumbled my way to bed and crashed for over three hours.  Now I’m awake and I my throat feels like someone has been punching it from the inside, not raw but swollen and it hurts to swallow.   I hope to god I never have to have this done again.

On the plus side, in true Tammy style, I made sure I didn’t leave without a little keepsake for my blog!!

Look ma!  No food!

Yeah, that’s my stomach, pretty gross huh!  Oh please, you should know me better than to think I wouldn’t post something like this if I had the chance!

When the doctor gave me the photo I asked her if there was anything wrong, she said for the most part things looked ok but there is inflammation in my stomach and they aren’t sure what the cause is.  So they took a few biopsies and we’ll have the results of the tests then.

So, now all I can do is wait and hope to god I never, for as long as I live, have to have this procedure done again.  Ever.

I wish I’d asked for a photo of the last time when there was still food in there, oh man that would have been awesome!  Gross… but awesome!

Related posts:

1. Gag Me!
2. I Want Halls, Dammit!

I just got back from dropping my mother off at the airport.  I’m a bit down and I miss her already but I’ve learned over the years that if I let myself wallow I can sometimes not drag myself back out, so I try to keep myself occupied until it passes.   When I got home I checked my RSS feed and saw the sweetest thing,  it managed to make me smile even though I’m feeling so sad.

On Bakerella.com, one of my favorite (not to mention sinfully tempting) baking websites, a man contacted the blogger and asked for her help in proposing to his girlfriend.   The blog entry starts like any other, with the recipe and instructions on how to make these darling wedding cake pops, but at the bottom it has the photo with the proposal.  I gasped, I smiled, I cried and exclaimed loudly “HOW ROMANTIC!!!”.  Yeah, I’m a little emotional at the moment, but better to cry over someone else’s happy day than my sad one.

I don’t know who Melissa is, but I read in the comments that she said YES! 

Honestly, how could she not?!

Related posts:

1. Light Writing Proposal
2. Home Sweet Homo
3. The Sweet Spot