$%!#

I hadn't been blogging about the outcome of all the testing for a lot of reasons.

For one, I needed a break from thinking about it. And I certainly didn't want this space to become all medical, all the time. Then the diagnosis, while a diagnosis, was still preliminary, so I didn't want to jinx it by talking about it -- I figured I'd get my prescriptions filled (a combination of antibiotics and probiotics), start treatment, and await the results before mentioning anything here. Things were looking good too! No nasty GI symptoms for a week and a half. I was stoked.

But this morning, I woke up to a gastrointestinal mutiny.

What the hell happened??? Of course my brain shifted into analytical mode and started counting off possible causes. Last night's leftovers? (Not likely, barely two days old, quite properly refrigerated, and without effect on D.) Side effects of the antibiotics? (Doesn't make sense -- wouldn't they have made themselves known early on?) How about the shellfish from two weekends back. (Again, doubtful, given the time lag.) That leaves -- uh oh.

Did I mention we picked up two foster kitties on Friday? And that one of them recently tested positive for giardia? I had no idea until after I'd gotten them home and had time to read their medical files thoroughly. Kitty's been treated, but still. Gulp.

I've always been very, very careful about handwashing after handling any of our fosters. These parasites, however, are especially tenacious -- you have to boil them to death. Unfortunately, as much as I'd like to, I cannot plunge my hands into boiling water every time I finish grooming our furry guests or scooping their litter.

Please, after these last nine months of GI evil, let me not have gotten giardia.

The problem is that its symptoms, from what I've read, are essentially indistinguishable from malabsorption resulting from other causes (the issue I had to begin with). In my case, Dr. Specialist was guessing I had a bacterial imbalance in my small intestine. And a significant reduction in symptoms after this course of antibiotics would mean he was probably right.

But now, now there's this new variable. Possibly throwing off this test, as it were. Does it mean further months of not knowing for sure what's wrong? Are we going to be playing the watch and wait game all over again? And which doctor am I supposed to call -- Dr. Specialist, who is nearly impossible to get hold of because of the system he works within, or my local GI guy, who seems to be a bit more conservative (read: in no rush to get an answer) in his diagnostic approach?

I know, I'll call both -- Dr. Specialist first thing tomorrow and as many times as is reasonable (it's too late in the day to reach him now). If no answer after a day or so, I'm moving on to local GI guy. That's the best I can do. I just wish I could do something more in the here and now to help me feel less frustrated.

Well, in a way, I suppose I already have. I bought myself some potted gerbera daisies last week because they caught my eye at the grocery store. Took them directly to our bathroom, our makeshift spa for plants. They're hanging out at the edge of the tub, the first thing I see whenever I walk in there.

In hindsight (yep, back to the poop humor again), flowers were a great idea.

A last-minute adventure

We were hoping for geoducks.

If you've never seen one before, let me point you to this helpful video. If you already know what these things are and where they live, then you know it's not easy to dig them up yourself.

But we were game, D and I. And so were three dear friends from college (two currently living in Portland, the other visiting them while attending a conference). They told us they wanted to come up for the weekend, do something outdoorsy, and eat exotic food.

We said, why not roll all of that into the same adventure?

Our friends, being of the same slightly crazy bent, heartily agreed that this was the thing to do.

Okay. Here's the disclaimer: I've never been clam-digging and neither has D. We didn't have a clue about where to find geoducks, much less how to go about harvesting them, but since these big bivalves are native to our region, we figured there would be locals in the know if we needed advice.

So D looked up which beaches were specifically recommended for our geoduck hunt, when low tide would hit, and what sort of license we would need (yes, you do need a license in Washington to dig for clams). And he got basic tips on how to locate our prey (more on that shortly) and what kind of equipment to use for proper excavation.

Sunday morning, we headed for the Olympic Peninsula.



We were told that geoducks would be accessible at tide levels of minus two feet and that even then, we'd need to do some serious digging to get to them. So we furnished everyone with boots and various gardening tools (a spade here, a trowel there, and even a collapsible snow shovel). We also stopped at a hardware store to get this:


A garbage can? Oh yes. For shoring up the walls of the holes we'd be digging in waterlogged sand. Just saw off the bottom and ta da! Instant brace. (It was the best we could come up with in place of the metal drum recommended for such purposes.)

We got to the beach about an hour and a half ahead of low tide, looking every bit the first-timers we were. What were we supposed to look for, we wondered. Siphons, supposedly, sticking right out of the sand. But there wasn't much to be seen right away.


A little surface digging, however, turned up great numbers of cockle clams, among other kinds. So we set about harvesting those for a while.

In the process we also unearthed several moon snails (not to be taken home, according to regulations, but fascinating to observe). This one was shy and went into its shell when I pulled out my camera:



This one, on the other hand, was curious. Hard to believe all of that body could fit inside that tiny house!


Then an enormous sea star floated by:


We offered it a cockle in exchange for a look at its tube feet.


Suddenly, there was a shout.

"I saw it! Something squirted water a foot in the air!" said one of the boys, pointing at a burbling hole in the sand.


They dug madly for a few minutes, throwing cockle-loaded chunks of beach aside until --


"I've got its neck!"

"Hang on to it! Let me free up the shell -- "

"Wait, where's the garbage can? The walls are coming down!"

"No time, just dig. Can you rock it loose?"

"Um ... "

(Shouting gives way to organized grunting. The girls step away from the hole, not sure whether the boys or their prey will win.)

And then:


Victory!

Numerous victories, in fact. As the afternoon went on, we started to recognize the holes in the sand that indicated there was something below. I'm sure the other people on the shore could tell we were amateurs by our excitement at each find. But we didn't care. At the end of the day, we had seven giant clams in our cooler.


When we went to have our catch weighed by the warden, though, we learned that they were not in fact geoducks.

"Horse clams," she explained with a gentle smile. And she showed us, in her well-worn guide to shellfish, pictures of our find next to its even larger cousin, which, given the day's low tide of only -0.3 feet, was well beyond reach.*

Both clams, said a fellow digger who overheard the verdict, could be cooked the same way -- the siphons blanched and skinned then sliced thin for sashimi. (The rest of the innards, unlike our 120 whole cockles, were not recommendable for the steamer.)

Yes, we were a little disappointed. But only momentarily. The point of the trip was to experience something we hadn't before, and we certainly had, with much abandon. So we headed for our return ferry still pleased with our adventure.

And the meal that evening?


Well-earned.

* If, after all this, you're interested in trying for geoducks yourself, this page provides excellent tips. Good luck -- and I totally want to hear about your experience if you go!

Little reminders

So you now know about the significance of curlicues for me and D. It's funny -- when I was writing that post, I didn't really expect it to have relevance to anything beyond the cracked glasses. But a few days into my visit with Almost Dr. Sis, we went to a concert where I saw this:


And when I gave the stage a closer look, I realized the walls were embellished with these:



Which reminded me of -- who else? -- D.

That's how curlicues used to operate for us in our long-distance relationship, as a reminder of the other person. Whenever curlicue sightings happened to occur, we'd report them to each other. "I thought of you today when I saw ___________," it went.

I had forgotten about that. But it was nice to remember during my two weeks away from D, especially when I was wishing he could be there.


I got back just in time to celebrate our birthdays together. We'd recently discovered a low-carb flour, so we decided why not test it out on a cake? (Neither of us had enjoyed such a novelty since D's hypoglycemia diagnosis in 2006.) It turned out all right, especially with chocolate cream cheese icing and whipped cream filling.


What we put on it to make it extra special:

Fun with some sun

SuziCate of The Water Witch's Daughter has given me a Sunshine Award. Thanks, SuziCate!

The award is supposed to be passed on to twelve other bloggers (no other rules as far as I can tell). But I've noticed that, within my blog circle (small but growing), this award has been handed around to many deserving people. Some folks have even been tagged multiple times! I do want this to remain fun and special when I pass this along, but if this is your fourth nomination, you're probably wondering, "Twelve more blogs to pass this to? And I thought the first thirty-six were hard to come up with."

So. In consideration of so many of you who have received so much well-deserved Sunshine, I'm revising the rules a bit.

I'm sure some of you, when you were growing up, heard this medley by The 5th Dimension at least once on the radio (and if you remember the second half of it, then you know why I'm mentioning it here). It won the Grammy Award for Record of the Year and Best Contemporary Vocal Performance by a Group at the 12th Annual Grammy Awards. I was not yet around to remember that, but the recording has also, according to Wikipedia, been referenced in the media as follows (and I quote)*:

• French's mustard used portions of "Let the Sunshine In" for their commercials in the late '80s.


• Hans Zimmer created a version of the song for the opening sequence of the 1990 film Bird on a Wire.


• In the third season episode of The Simpsons "Bart the Lover" from 1992, the Twirl King Yo-Yo company uses the "Age of Aquarius" portion of the song during their school Twirl King Champions yo-yo exhibition assembly.


• The song appears as the fifth track of the second disc of the soundtrack to the 1994 movie Forrest Gump.


• In 1998, Burger King used this song to promote their breakfast menu.


• The 1999 remake of The Out of Towners used "Aquarius" when Steve Martin's character has a psychedelic scene after ingesting a hallucinogenic.


• In the 2001 Disney movie Recess: School's Out, "Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In" plays during the end of the movie, moving into the credits with the chorus "Let the Sunshine In."


• "Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In" is performed with dancing at the conclusion of the 2005 movie The 40-Year-Old Virgin after the lead character's first sexual encounter.


• Société Bic (brand name, Bic) also used the song in the 2007 advertising campaign for the debut of their "Soleil Triple Blade Razors" in America.


• The "Let the Sunshine In" portion of the song was used as one of the official theme songs for the 2008 general election campaign of Barack Obama.


• "Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In" is also used in commercials for the Kia Rondo.


• The "Aquarius" song is used in commercials for the Aquarius sports drink.


• William Shatner sang a version of "Aquarius" in a commercial for Priceline.com.


• Used in the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, 2001, second walk.
  

Okay. Here's what I'm asking you to do. Examine the bulleted list above and give yourself a point for each item you can count in your own viewing/listening experience. Then report your point total in the comments below and tell us about at least one of those experiences! (Seriously, I want to know if you've seen William Shatner's performance and/or remember that French's mustard commercial -- what was going on in your life then?) Ten bonus points to anyone who has heard the medley performed live by The 5th Dimension. (Anybody know if they did that at the Grammys? I'm guessing they did, but ... ?)

Once you've done that, feel free to grab this award and pass it along as you see fit (by offering it to twelve deserving bloggers, if you so choose, or by using the modified rules I've created). You are, of course, still welcome to play even if you don't want to pass the award along. Enjoy!

* Clearly I have not verified said media references, but I am supposed to be working on my thesis, people. Forgive me?

Whew

I am, for the time being, very relieved.

I'd been worrying about the looming deadlines for my thesis, which I'd intended to defend in May. With the mess that was these last few weeks and the continuing unpredictable evolution of the narrative I'd been working on throughout the past several months, I was really unsure that I'd have something coherent to submit, much less something well-revised.

So I talked with my advisor today. We were on the phone for nearly an hour about the new developments in the work and the (further) changes in direction it's undergone. And we decided it was absolutely a much better idea for me to give the work and myself the time and space necessary to continue growing. Which means there will be no more talk of a defense until fall.

I have to say, my advisor may not always get what I write, but she does understand me. And thank goodness -- without the flexibility she was able to give me, I was going to be this for sure with an end-of-April deposit deadline:


(I know, I know; it's Spanish for sun, but I'm sure you can imagine how the sign looked from far away when D and I came across this restaurant!)

I am not this person

... who has suddenly lost the ability to do -- well, almost anything. I’m not, I swear, this person who is letting the weekly dinner plan fall to only what comes out of the freezer in vacuum-sealed packages: tilapia fillets, mixed vegetables, pot stickers. Not all within the same meal either.

I’m not this person who crawls back into bed after breakfasting on coffee. I used to do laundry and dishes and file the innumerable bills and other important items from the mail. I would read the news over my cereal, then start my workout. I’d shower before lunch. I'd even floss. I could go about my daily responsibilities without feeling like each small task required so much will. And pleasurable things -- they were effortless to pursue, not these chore-like endeavors they've suddenly become.

It will get better. It has to. But this person who's taken over my body in the last week since I got back -- you're not welcome. You're no stranger to me; I remember you all too well from previous dark times. I'd just forgotten how sneaky you could be. I mean, twelve days ago, I really did think I was fine. I was up to my elbows in revisions; I was chasing down thesis committee members. Hell, I even managed to sell a TV and a microwave on Craigslist to two different people and get a foster cat adopted by a third while I was three time zones away (thanks, D, for doing the in-person follow-up for all that).

And then, some time in the early morning of the last day before I was to fly home, you showed up. You hopped into the bed while I was in the hospital and curled right up under the skimpy white sheet like a delighted child who had found a new playmate. I'm sure I told you to go away. But you knew I'd been worn down, knew my defenses were gone. You'd been watching me for days, waiting for your moment. I realize that now and wish I'd recognized you sooner. Maybe I did and was just in denial.

I understand that you've decided to sojourn here for a stay of indeterminate length, but I'm not cool with it. Do what you have to do (or don't, as the case may be) -- I'll give you that. But tell me what it is you really need, tell me how to provide it, so I can send you away again, this time, I hope, for good.

Because you don't get to stay forever. One way or another, I will figure out how you work. And when that day comes, I'll be the person in charge again. Yes, me. And I won't make it pleasant for you to hang around. So do us both a favor. Help me help you so we can go our separate ways. Really, it'll be better for everyone involved.

Because this never happens

... I had to take a picture. Yep, those are my (rather foreshortened) legs stretched across all three seats on the plane from Chicago to Seattle on Tuesday. Thank you to the two passengers who decided they wanted upgrades or standby seats on an earlier flight. You made those four hours so much better than they might have been.

It looks like all the testing is over for at least a month. And several of the tests came back with results we can actually work with, so it was very much worth all the trouble. Many thanks to Dr. Specialist for the very thorough work-up and for helping me retain some sense of dignity through what were some fairly dignity-robbing circumstances. Many more thanks to Almost Dr. Sis for getting me where I needed to be for all those appointments -- I know it couldn't have been easy with the tough stuff you were dealing with in your own life. The gods of timing, eh? How they mock us sometimes.

I'm happy to say I've recovered from the last round of sedation (Versed + Demerol = one very groggy Troubadour, even more so than after general anesthesia! WTF?). That said, it's taking me longer to bounce back from these last two weeks than I thought it would, for a lot of reasons, some unexpected.

Fortunately, D and I have a long weekend planned just for us at a local bed-and-breakfast. So I'm looking forward to that. Maybe when we get back, some more trip-related news. And if not, then definitely one more curlicue-related story.