file:///C:/Users/Tasha.Huebner/Desktop/google96fe44e4b6d98b3e.html

Friday, August 8, 2014

Operation TCoC


Yes, it’s finally that day, when I can shake off the shackles that have kept me chained down to this ramshackle hard-scraping life and finally find freedom, yes freedom my friends!

Or in other words, it’s time to Take Care of Clumpie.

This means I go under the knife today, which in most cases is a quick and painless procedure (because they’re putting me under), but, umm…..in this case….nay! I’m sure it’ll be a, umm, extremely agonizing surgery fraught with such pain that it’ll have me questioning my own existence. Yeah, that’s it.

(Normal Brother once taught me that I should always play up such things, so as to garner as much sympathy as possible. So there you go. I think there’ll be flames licking at my feet too, just because.)

I know that my doctor is looking forward to seeing me, as we had our usual scintillating and wonderful chat this week as pre-surgery prep.

Dr. Abe: So first we’ll give you a drug that’ll…
Me: No.
Dr. Abe: But I haven’t even explained…
Me: The forgetting drug. No. I hate that stuff. No.
Dr. Abe: But Versed is great for calming people down and putting them int…
Me: No.
Dr. Abe: Most people like th…
Me: Nope.
Dr. Abe: Bu…
Me: No.

I could tell that Dr. Abe was impressed by my bold forward-thinking ways, and I think that’s what she then proceeded to write in her notes.

Actually I’m pretty sure her notes were more along the lines of “Patient is crazycakes. Try to load her up to the gills with anesthesia as soon as possible.”

Anyway, that was that. I had to go through more of the pre-surgery stuff this week as well, including a blood draw (as usual, fail on the first try so they sent me off to the experts at the lab), and a ton of the same questions being asked over and over. At this point I’ve had so many surgeries I want to tell them look, just get on with it already. I mean, isn't there a drive-through or something?

My big dilemma now: traditionally I bring brownies to my nurses on the day of surgery, as my way of bribing them to make sure (or at last try) that no one lights up in the operating room and, say, sends me up in flames. It’s worked so far – but I didn’t have time to make brownies today. My next option: boozy amaretto apricot vanilla jam. That would work, right?

* * * * * * *

On a completely different note, a close friend recently had a medical thing going on herself, so I sent her some flowers. And of course included a note with them, writing into the little box online something along the lines of:

“Good luck with the biopsy! I’m sure it’s just a douchebag Clumpie trying to make your life miserable. Shithead.   love, Miss Tasha and The Kone.”

The next day when she got the flowers, I just had to ask. The note, was it….?

M: “Yes, it was carefully written out in little old lady handwriting.”

My work here is done.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

You’ll never guess what happens next!


Based on the number of people on FB who actually repost those annoying Upworthy links, I’ve decided that they’re the key to catapulting my readership into the thirties of fans. So, next up: The Reasons Why Will Shock You, What Came Next Will Amaze You, and The First Three Sentences of This Blog Post Will Surprise You - The Fourth Will Change Your World.

You read it here first.

Anyway. I’m in an annoying state of limbo at the moment. I had hoped to start IVF in August, but my hysteriosalpingoramamagram (smartly just called the HSG test by the docs) showed that I have a uterine polyp (thanks Tamoxifen!) that needs to be taken care of before I can start IVF. The worst part of this is not just that I then have to wait 30 days after the hysteroscopy to remove it before I can do IVF, but more so that I have to actually say the word polyp. I fricking hate that word. Oh sure, I know some people have issues with words like “moist” or “slacks,” but they’ve got nothing on the word polyp. Yuck. I refuse to use it, and so, henceforth, because we’re really just talking about an annoying bunch of cells/tissue that are probably/hopefully not cancerous, I shall use the word clumpie to refer to said polyp.

So. Once I get Clumpie taken care of, onward it is. Speaking of words, I find it interesting how those of my friends who know what’s going on (which is all of them at this point) couch everything in such delicate terms. No one exactly asks anything along the lines of “So, how it’s going with the random invasive procedures and painfully shooting yourself up with fertility drugs and then dealing with the foolishly optimistic highs followed rapidly by debilitating and soul-crushing lows all while POASing even though you know there’s no chance in hell of success, all as you ponder your rapidly dwindling bank account?”

No, it’s more like “So! How are – you know – ‘things’ going?” With sufficient emphasis on the word “things” and a meaningful raising of eyebrows.

I tend to respond with equal vagueness. “Oh, well, same old, same old. Nothing new.” Because what else is there to say?

And I have yet to actually utter the words “sperm donor” – rather, it’s just “the donor,” as if I’m talking about someone who bequeathed millions to the Daughters of the Revolution. Because it’s just all so…unseemly, really. I’m a modest person as it is, and would rather we all just pretend that I’m preparing for a visit from a stork. Storkie. Yes, that’s it.


That’s how “things” are at the moment.  Waiting sucks, because I waver between thinking:

·       hey, surely this’ll work on the first try!
·       or, what the fuck am I thinking, stuff like this never works out for me. 

Followed by the vision of me and The Kone surrounded by cats, many many cats, yelling at kids to get off our lawn.

So there’s that.

Friday, July 11, 2014

Officially no longer PUPO

......or as I like to think of it, Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise But Even Though I Didn't Think The IUI Would Work I Still Find It Surprisingly Crushing To Get The Results.

I suppose PUPOBETIDTTIWWISFISCTGTR is a bit unwieldy though.

That is all.

Thursday, July 10, 2014

The Apple falls far


People somehow still seem to doubt the crazy shit that happens in my life. As if no one else ever bikes into the middle of a shootout in a small town, or runs across a rodeo in the middle of nowhere cornland on  a bike ride, or narrowly misses a tornado while….on….a bike ride. Hmm.

Anyway, the latest scenario happened NOT on a bike ride, oddly enough, but during the week recently when my computer when kaplooey. The Apple guys had told me it would take until probably that Satuday or Sunday to fix it, so imagine my surprise when I get a call that Friday.

Me: Hello?
Apple Guy: Hi there, I’m calling about your computer that you dropped off…..
Me: SIGH, yes, my poor baby. My adoring public is despondent over my inability to blog since I can't work on anything else.
AG: Umm, I’m sure. So, well, we did get the mothership (I think that’s what he said) replaced earlier than thought, so it’s ready to be pic….
Me: SQUEE! Omgomgomg you guys made it a priority because it’s ME, right? I mean I know you did, because I’m sure you thought about how unfair this all was to my fans and determinedly decided NAY this must not be.
AG: Well I…
Me: It’s okay though, it’ll be our little secret. We don’t want everyone else to know that they were unceremoniously pushed to the side like old mashed potatoes.

I change my plans and go to pick up my laptop, battling Friday afternoon traffic there and back, and am just walking into the house with laptop in my arms, kicking off a shoe to play Who’s Got the Shoe with Kone, when my phone rings. I hesitate, then ignore it, because I can easily see disaster ensuing if I try to finagle answering it. How important could it be?

Message: “Yeah, hi, this is Apple Guy from the Apple Store. You were in here a little while ago to pick up your laptop, and, well, heh heh, somehow we forgot to put the screws back in. So if you could call us to arrange to come back in…”

Say. What?

I go to look, and sure enough, out of 10 screws, 1 is in. One. You have GOT to be fucking kidding me.

The Apple Guy is probably lucky I had let the call go to voice mail, because the thought of having to head the hour or so back to the Apple store when I had so much stuff to do was less than endearing. I fumed and raged for a good, oh, 20 minutes or so, then thought ech, par for the course.

Besides, I can see how these things happen.

* * * * * * 

Scene: The Apple Store. Apple Guy is merrily finishing up work on Miss Tasha’s computer. I picture them as being somewhat Ed Grimley-like and twee.


“La la la, hi ho hi ho, what a glorious day to be working on….” (looks at slip) “….Miss TASHA’S computer! I can just imagine her joy when she gets it back, like a day full of rainbows and skittles and boozy fruit and those wonderful overcast-yet-brooding-days that give lie to the need for aggressively hot and sunny days. Huzzah!”

“Just have to screw the precious back together and……..ermagerd! SHIT!”

AG suddenly runs from the state of the art beautifully-appointed Back Room of Apple Miracles and into the kitchen.

“Oh no,” he wails. “I forgot about my So Manly He-Man Manliest of Days microwaveable dinner! It’s ruined! What to do, what to do…..”

Just then Apple Guy #2 walks in and sees what remains of AG #1’s nuked beyond recognition dinner.

“Whoa dude, what’s that? No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. You need to get yourself a new lunch.”

AG#1: “But I don’t want to take time away from my most important work. The little people are counting on me, on us!”
AG#2: “This we know to be true, but think about it man, think about it rationally, dammit! You’re no good to them like this, a weak starving shell of your former self. You need to fortify yourself to do battle in the Apple trenches – the people deserve your best, and it’s your duty to give it to them.”
AG#1: “Okay. See ya!”

AG#1 heads outside to the Tiki Bi Bim Bop Fusion Asian Grille Shoppe to get himself some food, then after eating gets distracted by the koi pond at the mall, then realizes he needs coffee as fortification, then goes to the candy store to get some jelly bellies and taffy.

Upon return to the Apple Store 2 hours later

“Hmm, I seem to recall I was working on something critically important when I left. What WAS it. Hmm.”

He looks up and sees his empty workspace. “That’s odd, I could have swore……oh. Oh shit. SHIT!”

His scream of anguish brings all his colleagues running from all over the store. As they stare at him in confusion and worry, he can only say this, as he looks at them with panic and a handful of screws:

“We’re fucked.”

* * * * * * *

So see, I get it. These things happen all the time. Especially to me, I might add. Not just the Schleprockian tales of things that happen to me and no one else, but also the forgetting. Still, the next morning when I was driving back to Apple, I was back to fuming a bit. Because I was running late and had a shit-ton of things to do that day and no reason to be wasting time driving to a MALL, for crikey’s sake, and they had made me make an appointment at the Genius Bar, which I’d surely be late to. I already had the dialogues planned out in my mind.

AG: You missed your time slot so we’ll have to pu…
Me: You were going to say you’d have to see me right away, because I’m only here to get the SCREWS PUT BACK IN MY COMPUTER. Yes?

AG: I’m sorry you’ll have to wait since…
Me: No. There will be no waiting. Because I shouldn’t even need to BE here today, wasting my time.

And so on.

So yes, I was ready when I walked in. Steely, determined, I walked up to the first check-in Apple person. Told her my name, she poked at her IPad, whisked me off to someone else. He similarly poked, then directed me to the back of the store to the main counter where “they’ll take care of you RIGHT away.” Then not content with that, he escorted me back there.

And I tell you, it was like the parting of the Red Sea. Words were whispered, people looked over, they started to cluster. Someone held up a plastic baggie with screws, and there was a slight hush. The girl tasked with taking away my laptop was, well, sheepish. They were all sheepish, wondering how in the hell something like this could have happened at THEIR establishment. It must be common though, right?

I see my old friend AG#1, who I talked to that first day that I handed over my computer for repair.

AG#1: You have to tell me, this wasn’t my fault, was it? I mean I handed off your computer to someone else, right? Please tell me I AM NOT THE ONE who did this.
Me: No no, you looked at it, it needed more work done, I had to leave it….
AG#1: Thank GOD. I couldn’t figure out how I could have done something like that!
Me: But this has happened before, right? I mean how DOES something like this happen?
AG#1: I…I just…I just don’t know. In all my years of working here, this has never happened before.

Oh.

AG#1 and I agree that while it might be tough for them to have an actual BAR at the Genius Bar, they should at least have a stash of whiskey for when such things happen or they have to tell some poor schmoe that they lost all his data. I’d hope they’d at least have gift cards for such occasions and that I would be graced with one, but alas, no such thing is forthcoming.

At least I have my computer. WITH screws this time.

* * * * * * * *
In other news, I seem to be notpregnant. And it’s my 6-year Cancerversary. Normally I SadCancerFace my mom into treating me to dinner, and we go someplace where the server invariably is impressed by my rock$tar cancer-ass-kicking nature and brings me free dessert and heaps of maraschino cherries for my fruity cocktail. Alas, this year I’ve been abandoned by my mom, probably due to the fact that I’m an orphan (I don’t think the fact that she lives in Chicago has anything to do with it), and no one else offered to take me out to wine and dine me (obligatory self-pity note), so I’m celebrating by hanging out with The Kone, working, and slugging down a cocktail. With the more expensive kind of maraschino cherries, so there.

I am nothing if not a party animal.