Dognapped!

We Have your Dog

If you xpect to see her again in good health

and with only a few bad habits, wire 5 million

Rasbuckniks (84.50 American Dollars) to

'RC2007  account 69, Bank of Nigeria'

You have till Midnight tonight, otherwise !!!

The Dirty Hand

My folks have had Misty on and off for almost two months while I have been recovering from Artyom's birth. She's back at their place again while I recuperate from my recent surgery. Anyway, this email greeted my grumpy, pain-bedeviled self this morning and really cracked me up. Heh.

The Waiting Room

Much gratitude to Momfiend for springing into action at a moment’s notice to help my disabled self! She has baby-sat, given me rides, stopped by the store, picked up prescriptions and cooked meals for us. Whew!  Today she did double baby-sitting duty at 2 am for Tyoma and at 10 am for me at the doctor’s office. In anticipation of another painful procedure, I took a full dose of pain meds leaving me feeling groggy. I really needed her to drive and take notes on Dr. Rubble’s latest treatment plan.

We were lucky enough to snap up the last two unoccupied seats in a waiting room packed full of miserable looking couples. A half hour into our wait, we encountered one of Tennisfiend’s senior colleagues, Dr. Voran, who we knew to be a cancer survivor. Walking hunched with a cane, he looked disturbingly bloated. His eyes were yellowish and bulged unhealthily; one was cocked permanently to the far left. I tried not to appear shocked by his condition, but I am a lousy actress. Nevertheless, he chatted amiably with a smooth graciousness that only Christopher Walken should be able to pull off. I admired his affable attitude made a mental note to send him a card.

After another ten minutes passed, our neighbor Mr. D entered with his wife.  She looked very unwell and in considerable pain. Although the couple recognized me, they immediately avoided eye contact. I took the hint and remained silent, but I felt bad for them, both for being there and for feeling the need to avoid me. Mom and I continued to chat and make jokes, being occasionally joined by Mr. Voran and his wife. Some of the other patrons smiled at our hilarity. I wondered how many people we annoyed. When they finally called Mr. Voran, he made a point to come over to shake hands with us before he left. What a cool guy.

When it was my turn, Dr. Rubble gave me a thourough inspection and answered my neurotic questions (yes you can take Ibuprofen, any type of Q-tip, of course your antibiotic and pain meds are compatible with breastfeeding, etc). He pronounced me well, reminded me to shower and q-tip clean and said he’d see me next Friday. On the way out I gave the lone Mr. D a sympathetic smile, which he grimly returned.

The Day After

So what was the significance of Dr. Rubble instructing me to take a shower before I came to today’s appointment? I’ll tell you. By showering and letting water flow into the wound, the gauze he packed into it would not adhere to my healing abscess, making the extraction of the two feet of material not agonizingly painful. Sure wish I would have understood that clearly before I came to my appointment! Dr. Rubble even made a point of asking me if I had showered. I said sure--I showered dutifully. He asked if the gauze had gotten wet. I said sure, because it had. If he would have asked if water had saturated the gauze, I might have been spared a good deal of pain. Oh well. His nurse held my hand while I bit my lip.

Tennisfiend witnessed the extraction, later commenting that the gauze looked like “a yard of meaty bacon” as the doctor removed it. He was quite remorseful for not clarifying the doctor’s instructions to me since my perception of Wednesday’s instructions was blurry. The doctor’s next set of instructions were obediently memorized by both us. I must shower 4-6 times a day, letting water flow into and rinse my wound. Friday I should be able to clean the insides with a q-tip (gasp!).  If he noticed the look of inexpressible horror on my face, he ignored it. The doctor prescribed me a mega-dose of Cleocin, an antibiotic so powerful it gives you diarrhea for weeks after treatment. Assisted by TF, I bravely staggered out of the office five minutes later. We sat in the parking lot for ten minutes while I recovered.

It took most of the afternoon to build up enough courage to take my first shower. I started by wetting the bandage thoroughly to keep it from sticking. Heh.  I tried not to look, but morbid curiosity overcame my usual squeamishness. My first glance made my stomach clench. Immediately, an image from the Discovery Channel popped into my head. A group of fishermen butchered a great white shark. The gruesome combination of pale white skin and bloody red flesh looked exactly like eviscerated shark meat. I felt simultaneously dissociated from my incision and utterly repulsed by it. Despite my love for horror movies, I am ridiculously squeamish over real life medical procedures. I vow to desensitize myself with some Discovery Health programming.  Brrr.

Breast Surgery

Yep. This is backdated, fer sure. I was in no state to write on the day of my surgery, let alone compose coherent sentences!

Anyway, I went in for breast surgery today at 12:30 p.m. This is twelve hours after I learned that surfing the internet at light speed under the influence of  Tylenol 3 can make a person barf, big time. I spent the rest of the night worrying about dying from my infection prior to surgery (think Jim Henson) or dying during surgery (think my grandpa) or waking up in recovery without a left breast (think neighbor lady).

Around two in the morning, I woke up to discover that my giant red lump had developed a purplish center. Since I still had no fever, I calmly called our nurse hotline and chatted with Barry, who assured me that I was not going to die--abscesses sometimes develop purple centers. He told me to truck down to the emergency room if I developed a fever or red streaks (I knew that having googled my condition extensively). Overall, he was sweet and reassuring; he made me feel much better. Mwah! Big kiss to Barry. 

How ironic that someone who worries so much over her health in general could be taken by surprise and wind up needing a surgical procedure. Someone should have told me to see the doctor if a milk duct is plugged for more than three days.  I also should have started pestering the radioligist sooner. Waiting the extra day and a half for surgery allowed my abscess to double in size--the difference between a needle in a doctor's office and general anesthesia in the hospital. Well, I survived the ordeal--

9:00 Arrive at Dr. Rubble's office.  The nurse gasps when she looks at my abscess. She puts some pain relif lotion on it and tells me that the doctor will be in to lance the abscess shortly. I balk.

9:15 Dr. Rubble enters, non-chalantly looks at my breast, frowns at the nurse  for putting on the lotion and tells her to schedule me for general anesthesia and a Incision and Drainage at noon today. I was rather expecting this. I actually request an IV from Dr. Rubble since I feel so dehydrated from last night's puking festival.

10:45 At the hospital with Tennisfiend, with the IV sloshing glucose, electrolytes and water into my system. A loquacious asian nurse makes me comfortable and continues a dialoge about asian culture with me nonstop until her lunchtime. I appreciate the distraction.

11:00 Momfiend and her backpack arrive. She leaves in an hour to relieve Fontessa, who has been babysitting Tyoma.

11:15 I am grateful that I brought my breast pump, since one is not readily avaible. I pump for a half an hour and worry about genral anethesia while TF tries to stay awake. My abscess is spectacularly painful and I can't take any meds for it.

11:45 The anesthesioligist arrives. He is a short, swarthy Robert Duvall with an inscrutably dry sense of humour. To prevent another barf-fest he orders medication to prevent nausea. Oddly enough, the anti-nauseant nauseates me. Bring out the pink puke cup!

12:00 The chatty nurse returns to inform me that Dr. Rubble will arrive shortly. In sotto voce, she tells us that he is running late.

12:30 The nurse starts the happy meds. I'd be sillier if I weren't so groggy. Pain decreases, yay!

12:45 Dr. Rubble arrives and I am whisked off to the operating chamber.  They put a mask on me and my lights go out.

1:??  I wake up in recovery, still thinking i am in the operating room about to go under. Everything is foggy. I try to make some jokes, but clearly I'm the only one who realizes how hilarious I am. TF arrives. Dr. Rubble gives me detailed instructions related to wound care. I repeat everything back to him. He gives me a prescription for oxycodone. The next hour  mysteriously disappears.

3:30 On the way home my lack of pain meds kicks in. Every bump is agonizing. I curse and whine at TF in a never ending stream. He escorts me to the couch and heads to Walgreens to drop off prescriptions. At home Mom listens patiently while I blather on endlessly. Must be some drugs left in my system! 

4:00 I call Pat to let her know I survived the surgery (she told me I would) and to beg her to stop by with some trashy mags after work. Fontessa naps and Mom continues to listen to me blabber non-stop.

Sometime after the pain meds kick in: Ewbliette arrives with a super sweet halloween ghost-bag full of goodies: The Enquirer, Star, Sun, The Globe, Weekly World News ("Alien Mummy Goes on Rampage," YAY!), Acoustic Guitar Magazine (for TF), chocolate covered macadamia nuts, and my favorite cheaparoonie candy--a Christoper's Big Cherry! Ewbliette takes over for Momfiend in listening to me prattle on, even giving me a foot massage! Friends and Family rule!

Ultrasound Adventure

I had my breast ultrasound early this morning and spent the rest of the day twiddling my thumbs waiting for results. Fortunately,  the cool US tech girl gave me a heads up on the radiologist's propesnsity to drag his feet on sending reports. As a result, I spent an hour on the phone harassing various agencies to get my reults sent to my doctor's office. Lucky me. Almost ten minutes to the second after my final phone call,  a Dr. Rubble calls me. I have no idea who he is, but he will be my surgeon tomorrow! I have a serious breast abscess. I need surgery. Would I like to come in tonight? Perhaps tomorrow would be better since I need to be without food for at least six hours to avoid aspirating my meal and dying a horrible death? A nine o'clock appointment with Dr. Rubble is scheduled for tomorrow. The evening passes with about five more phonecalls to prepare me for tomorrow's procedure, including a call from Sarah Seamstress for stronger pain meds (codeine).  I make a few more phone calls to my mommy (Wah! Poor me!) and Ewbliette (am I going to die?). Damn, I was hoping to avoid all this.

Day From Hell, Really!

Today was the day from hell. Despite a night of little sleep due to breast pain, I woke up at my usual 2:00 am to take Tyoma for the remainder of the night. Twenty minutes into my shift I began to feel very unwell and achy--still no fever. Alarmed, I woke up Tennisfiend to finish my shift. I felt terrible. At dawn I'd call Gretta Granola for an appointment. I'd also reschedule Tyoma's two month shots today since Tennisfiend did not want to miss work to take him. Dr.Coppola would not reschedule me and  Gretta said she's see me at 2:00.

I managed to make Tyoma's appointment with TF in attendance. We were stuck watching a video on immunizations and I had to ask the nurse to skip it so we could make my 2:00 appointment with Gretta. It was a bit of a last minute circus, since tyoma was fussy/crying after his shots and TF wanted to take him straight home and I needed to go straight to my appointment since I was miserable. I wound up meeting Momfiend in the parking lot. We raced across town to dash into the doctor's office at 2:01, only to find that Gretta had called, she was delayed in traffic.

When I showed her my poor swollen breast, she gasped and called the doctor who immediately wrote me a prescription for strong antibiotics and a slip for an ultrasound at the hospital (the ultrasound will rule out a condition called a galactocele). I also received a prescription for yet  another breast ointment, and the doctor dismissed my primary's concerns over being allergic to Tyoma's saliva.  When I went to the hospital for my ultrasound, I spent an hour struggling with the medical staff over scheduling concerns. Apparently, one simply  doesn't request a walk in for a breast ultrasound. After much aggravation and four phone calls to the doctor's office, they scheduled me for an appointment first thing tomorrow--much better that late Wednesday afternoon!

I've spend the balance of the afternoon distracting myself on google, looking up "galactocele," and preying that I don't have to go in for surgery to have my breast drained. The idea of surgery horrifies me, especially since I squick out easily. I'd have to hire someone to care for my healing wound, I swear! Fortunately, surgery is uncommon, and I haven't had a fever so maybe it will go away with antibiotics.  I do curse myself for not calling Gretta on Friday, I really thought that this would go away with heating pads and massage.

Two Months Old!

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Well, has finally arrived! She came in late Friday, full of energy and love for her new grandson. It was a sweet moment, when she laid eyes on him for the first time. She wept, Tennisfiend wept, I wept and Tyoma wisely broke out his ten mega-watt smile for all of us. Naturally, when we recovered and thought to break out the camera, he turned it off. Saturday we made an attempt to capture his elusive smile (he’s obviously camera-shy), with no success. Nevertheless, we snapped some cool pics (more on Flickr). We didn’t use the cool reflectors that lent us, since we were a bit frazzled and lucky enough to get the baby in the picture without chopping off the top of his head. Anyway, here’s some photos of Tyoma in honor of his two month anniversary.

(Click on image for a larger view)

Tennisfiend's Mom

Well, the day has finally arrived. E's mom, Tanya will be arriving from Russia in less than twelve hours! This will be her third visit to the states, and her first visit in five years. We hope that she will stay with us for a couple of months, at least. Yay! She will cook for us! Not that my mom hasn’t been breaking her back to cook, but with the two of them on duty, we won’t have to stomach another Stouffer Classic Lasgna meal for a long time. Actually, Stouffer isn’t half bad, Hormel meals are the worst. Bleagh!

All food fantasies aside, Fontessa is a caring, sensitive and generous woman. She was so kind to me when I first came to Moscow eleven years ago. A strange American woman marries her son after dating for seven months and she welcomes me with champagne and kisses. Treating me like the daughter she never had, she never once made me feel unwelcome. Fresh flowers greeted me every time I visited her dacha (country home) and she always fixed my favorite dishes. (More cooking references, hmmmm…) At family parties, with no one but my husband speaking English, she made sure I was included and even the center of attention. I was treated like a genuine queen.

A flower from Fontessa's garden.

In the time that we have been apart, Fontessa (and the rest of our family) never forgets an anniversary, birthday, or special holiday. She constantly sends photographs of her lovely garden and plenty of nifty care packages. When Fontessa visits us, she is just as delightful. None of this bossy mother-in-law stuff--total respect for my way of doing things, but her spirit and attitudes always shine through. Do I love this woman? You bet! Her visits are a dream!

Okay. I’m calm now. Gooey relative rave is over.   J

Garden Despair

Early this morning I stepped in to the backyard for the first time in many weeks. Although part of my absence has been due to being busy with Tyoma, we have also been infested with mosquitoes. West Nile always lurks in southern New Mexico, so I’ve been extra cautious, not wanting to be a statistic filling airtime on CNN. 

No mosquitoes this morning. Surprisingly, I noticed that I could see big white clouds of my own breath! Whoa. Just last week I wore shorts and blasted the AC, now it’s time for sweaters. I took stock of my poor, neglected garden. Survivors of my birthday planting looked blighted and misshapen. Weeds overtook most of my flower beds. Unkempt ornamental grasses swallowed their delicate neighbors. Totally depressing. 

On the bright side, our new gravel was immaculate—free of weeds and raked lovingly by in the finest karesansui fashion. The koi pond, filled with mosquito fattened fish, sparkled crystal clear. Our pool rests tidy and clean under its recently installed solar blanket. And finally, our new porch, recently scrubbed by TF, glistened with dew. Sheesh. Am I off base feeling that all this order is incongruous next to my wretched garden? Humph. I plan to find some mosquito netting for the stroller and get caught up on my work before the first frost.

Babyfiend

Allergic To My Baby?!

I went in for my annual physical today, visiting the avuncular Dr. Trout, my doctor  (and occasional savior) for many years. After the he gave me usual congratulations on the new baby, I made my usual comments on continuing breast problems. After much questioning and an exam, he diagnosed me with allergic dermatitis of the nipple and suggested that I might actually be allergic to Artyom's saliva! Whoa. He prescribed a powerful anti-inflammatory  (Ultravate) and gave me the litany about breastfeeding and topical steroid use. All of this is at odds with the "you still have thrush" coming from my nurse practitioners. I'll see if the meds help.

When I came home, I spent my obligatory hour and a half on gooogle checking all this out. Tomorrow I'll call Gretta Granola and ask about the both the diagnosis and medication before I use it. What a weird diagnosis! And how depressing. I feel like I need to call Maury Povich.

On a cheerier note, I spoke to Patricia for almost a half hour today. Our schedules have been incompatible--she comes home from work when I go to sleep prior to my evening/early morning baby shift. I can't remember everything that was said, but I know that I yelled "Ahhhh!" into the phone and that she had some delicious gossip for me.

E.T.A. Subsequent doctor visits revealed that I still had thrush compounded by dermatitis. I was allergic to the nipple cream originally prescribed to me for thrush. Go figure.

What's been going on...

It has been too long since we last chatted! And it's all my fault! I was out shopping for Tanya on Sunday since I spent all Saturday at home/having my hair done. Derpy-de-durr. So here's what's been going on:

Tyoma is growing like a weed! I can't wait to have you over to take a peek at him. I plan to take some pics soon, Lord knows when that will actually materialize. He's been healthy and non-colicky. We did have a little problem with acid reflux (!), especially as a result of me drinking too much cranberry juice. I thought that I had a bladder infection, but alas, Lisa told me that it was normal bladder stuff after the epidural. It could take up to six months for my bladder to return to normal. At least I'm not pissing my pants anymore (well, I'm not pissing them much).

Speaking of my six week appointment, I've got some over-healing skin tags that might need to be burned off.  Geeze, that sucks. I'm waiting to see if the over-healed parts will resolve themselves.  Other appointment stuff is boring, except I still have that damn nipple thrush, so I'm hooked up to the breast pump every three hours. How shitty. I've been on a month plus of anti-fungals plus my diet is almost carb free except for oatmeal. I never thought I'd get so sick of cheese and meat. Sigh.

Mimi and I are getting along swell, she's been babysitting for me on Wednesdays while I shop. Since Tanya will be here this Friday, she was here three times last week. It went really well, she's super sweet and entertains Tyoma tremendously. She and Walt have been keeping Misty on and off, too. Misty will be bummed to return here--she just doesn't get the same loveys. This weekend we're leaving Misty at their place till Tanya gets settled.

Saturday  Robert did my hair and he suggested lowlites and bangs for me. Holy crap, I took a chance and WOW! I look different! E was going to snap a pic for me to show you, but we got way too busy and we forgot. I really like the new look, I hope the hair color stays true. Since my hair darkened so much with the pregnancy, my highlights have an orangish cast. Robert said that he'd fix it for me but I didn't want to overprocess my hair. Let's see what I say in two weeks.

I am really looking forward to Nukestock, though my breasfeeding needs may curtain my presence, either that or maybe Brotherkurt could let me pump in his private bathroom so I can stay for a longer time. I have NO clue for a costume, though Robert made some great suggestions. He suggested that I bring Tyoma by for a quick "How do you do" and that we come in a matching costume. His idea was a Popeye-Olive Oyl-Sweetpea triad. How cute! And how sooo not happening. He aslo suggested Angelina Jolie & Shilo, Little bo Peep and Sheep, and Little Miss Muffet and Spider. As if. Heh, I do admire his creativity. I am all out of creative thought!

Well, girl, I do miss you terribly and hope you have a second to tell me what's up with you. For now this post is for your eyes only, so feel free to post whatever. Hope to hear from you soon!

Much love,
Lori

E.T.A.

Well, its four something and I am unwinding for my upcoming three-four hours of sleep. It's great to hear that you'll be home early tomorrow and Wednesday. I've got an appointment for an annual physical with my old physician, Dr. Bass. I haven't had a physical in forever. I'm going primarily so I can get a flu shot this year, that and I have a funny mole on my tummy. Anyway, borrr-ring! I'll check in later tonight since I'm up every three hours to do the breast feeding/pumping thing. How are you? And Brotherkurt? and Daddy? Work? What have you decided on for Nukestock costumes? Hot gossip? You rock!!!

At Long Last

Well, our brand new baby boy arrived a little more than two weeks ago, on August 21. Artyom Alexander D. weighed 8 pounds, 5 ounces and measured 19 and 3/4 long. I'll post my birthstory later, it was wonderful!

Finally, I can sit at the computer comfortably!!! Despite not feeling truly miserable until the final three days of my pregnancy, I realize that the past two-three months were uncomfortable enough to keep me off the computer chair and ass deep in pillows on the couch. At last I hope to transfer my journaling online. Actually, I'm not totally normal yet, I feel like we have welcomed more than our new son into the household. My breasts have taken on a life of their own, including not only a size change that seems to be keeping pace with our baby's robust growth, but also a fussy character that surpasses colicky witching hour awakenings. I'm just waiting for my nipples to burst open and start squalling inconsolably. That's all for now.

Pics at Three Weeks

I'll spare you the dozens of poorly illuminated/overexposed shots that our tired selves took of Tyoma and leave you with these two shots we took of him on a sunny weekend right before his one month anniversary.

(Click on image for a larger view)

We'll post some more pics once we can catch him in the act of smiling.

Newborn Pics

The first pictures of Artyom(A.K.A Tyoma, Malootka! Russian tradition/superstition dictates that no one but immediate family can see a newborn baby until forty days after the birth (some Russians hold out for two months!).

This restriction surprisingly applies to photographs also, as we found out from Artyom's great grandmother Lydia (who was quite concerned about it). So, the only souls to have seen the baby (aside from medical staff) are us (duh), his maternal grandparents, and his Godmother . So, at long last I unveil his "Home From The Hospital" photos:

(Click on image for a larger view)  
We arrived home from the hospital around 8:00 p.m., with plenty of help from Ewbliette, who schlepped our birthing expedition gear. It must have taken me twenty minutes to gingerly climb out of the back seat of my truck, even with 's help! My bottom was unbelievably sore! Anyway, two hours later, we snapped shots of Tyoma to send to his family in Russia. Unfortunately, our sleep deprived state resulted in thirty shots that were all a touch too dark.
Poor Tennisfiend looks absolutely wiped! He slept less than seven hours in the past three days. Part of the sleep deprivation came from caring for Tyoma while I spent an extra few days in the hospital. He changed diapers, rocked the baby, brought the baby to me for feedings and even helped with the supplemental feedings the Doctors recommended. Funny, I don't recall much of the first night home except for the photographs and Ewbliette buying us a half dozen towels.


I just had to share this pic, unlovely though it may be. Poor little devil looks like he just realized what a crazy family he was born into!