Freaking Out

I was absolutely freaking out.  I will try and nutshell this.  Bear with me. Or is it bare?  Hell, I honestly don’t know.

I was diagnosed by an urgent care doctor with something called Trigeminal Neuralgia.  Essentially this is what Wikipedia said about it when I went to go see Dr. Google.

Trigeminal neuralgia (TN, or TGN), also known as prosopalgia, or Fothergill’s disease is a neuropathicdisorder characterized by episodes of intense pain in the face, originating from the trigeminal nerve. The clinical association between TN and hemifacial spasm is the so-called tic douloureux. It has been described as among the most painful conditions known to humankind.

After reading that and realizing I wasn’t insane for thinking my scalp, ear, and face were going to melt off in a volcanic type of pain, I made an appointment with a neurologist.

230px-Gray778
That is the face I make when it happens too.  I feel ya buddy.  

He sent me for an MRI and some blood work.  Cool Beans.

I went and got the MRI, again, Cool Beans.

It went with out incident.

One hour later the tech called me and said, “Hi, can you come back in immediately?”

(Now in full, “WTF” mode) I replied, “No.”  Because essentially fuck that.

Him – Well when CAN you come back in??
Me – After work tomorrow around 2:00pm.
Him – *Sigh* if that is the best you can do.
Me – Um, did I move and mess it up??
Him – No. (He literally said nothing else)
Me – Ok, so WHY??
Him – The radiologist needs more pictures.

Needless to say I made arrangements and found out I could go.  I called back and he asked how long until I got to the hospital.  I said 10 minutes.

During this drive I am freaking the fuck out.  The logical part of me knows it is nothing.  But the urgency this man is giving me has me almost positive I have a tumor and they are getting more images of said tumor.

I walk into the hospital at 4:15pm and he is waiting on me in the lobby.

**waiting on me**

He got me right in and then in 15 minutes I was done.

I spent the rest of the night doing all I could not to cry.  I had no one to talk to and my son was with me.  I didn’t want to freak him out.  So we played AlphaBear.  And then I went to bed.

I called the neurologist the next day and he was fuming mad that the tech did that.  He got a little snippy with me.  Which I don’t think was intentional.  He said, we would call you if something was wrong.  I told him logically I knew that but it still had me very freaked out.  I told him I would never follow up with you next day on an MRI but damn.  He agreed that the tech more than likely screwed up and had to get the remaining images WHILE I still had contrast in my system.

Asshole.

Why not just say that???  I would have been miffed but not scared of imminent death.

Needless to say, I think I still have the TN thing, but no TUMAHHHH.

Have mercy on my soul.

Still breathing, as always,

Woman on Pause

Wiki info: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trigeminal_neuralgia.

Holy Shit, I quit my job.

So.  The big news.

I quit.

I QUIT.

Well, I put in my three week notice, but you get the point.

I know what you are thinking, big friggin deal?  You start a new job and life goes on.  Blah, Blah Blah.

Nope.  I am not starting a new job.  I have no job waiting.  I am quitting work, and for the summer spending the time with my two boys and being a housewife.  Then I am going to maybe have hip surgery (again), then I am going back to school.  All the while blogging and writing like a frantic monkey on meth. Have.never.had.this.much.time.to.write.

The thing that makes me happy and feel personally fulfilled. <——-The Meth Monkey thing.

This is big because if you knew me, you would know I have NEVER NOT worked.  Ever.  I began work at age 12.  Working for my Grandfather behind the counter of his store.  Then at 16 I interned at an office locally and waited tables.  At 17, the damned Monday after graduation, I started my first 9-5.  Then from there it was basically a new job every 3-6 years.  Each one moving up the ladder.  Leading me to Accounting then Finance.

Then 2008 happened.  I took a major hit going from a Manager at a very nice salary, to a peon with a crappy hourly salary with a two hour commute.  I have done this now for three years.

After the hubs and I crunched the numbers it just didn’t make sense to send the boys to day camp (PRICEY Motherfucker Day camps are) while I spend tons in gas and wear and tear to Prince Valium to make jack shit.

So we decided I would quit.

HOLY HELL.

This is why I restarted this blog a week or two back.

I am going to be documenting going from a 9-5 day job for 19 years. to being a Stay at Home Mom.

Heyyyyyyyyy, wait.  Don’t be that way.  This won’t be a mommy blog.  I mean those are great and all, and I have learned many crafts and recipes, but this is going to document the journey.

My Journey.

And I am damned excited/scared/freaked out/stoked/completely unprepared.

This shit should be interesting.

Stay tuned.

It just gets better from here.

Or I go down in flames.

Either way, it makes for good reading.  Don’tchathink??

Holy shit no pictures.

As always,and stay tuned.

Woman on Pause