Scared straight, part two

At 11:30 on Friday night, I woke up with a pain in my upper middle back.

"That ain't good," I thought.

So I went downstairs and did what any right-minded individual would do - I got on the internet and started looking up all the things that could be causing such a pain.

The two likely culprits were my heart or my gall bladder.

I selected b) and chose to wait it out.

After a half hour or so, I started to think, "Well, even if it is my gall bladder, shouldn't I get this checked out?"  Because, well, in the words of my friend L - "Things burst."

So I went upstairs and woke up DH and explained my predicament. 

Then we both came down and pondered our options.

At that point, the pain got MUCH worse, and I said, "Yes. Do it. Call. Call now."

I had remained calm until this point. I kept thinking, "My blood pressure is fine. I'm not cold and clammy, therefore my circulatory system is not being effected, therefore I am fine."

It was at this point, as we waited for the ambulance, that I went cold and clammy. And my arms started tingling, for good measure.

So that's how I spent my Saturday morning - lying on a gurney, and then in a hospital bed, with many wires stuck to me and various fluids being taken from and pumped into me.

But there are many happy endings to this story.

First, it wasn't a heart attack. This became apparent fairly early in the process. Didn't make the incredible pain go away, but still good news.

Second, our neighbour just bought a new truck. So when he heard the ambulance door slam, he thought someone was stealing the truck, and he came outside to check on it. He then stayed with the girls while DH came up to the hospital with me. Have I mentioned how lucky we are to live in this house?

Third, we asked the ambulance not to turn on the sirens so the kids wouldn't wake up. We got home at 6 am, and they were still asleep. We thought about telling them, but really, what good would come of that? "Hey guys, guess what? We were gone for six hours while you slept last night."

Fourth, I'm riding the low-fat/no-fat flavour train! No, that's not really the happy part, but the fact that I am actually blowing the dust off the ol' Canada Food Guide and taking it seriously is obviously a good thing. I've decided that I don't want to eat any meals that I would be embarrassed to admit to an EMT. Like, for example, when I - at age 41 - had to say, "A chicken burger and fries" when they asked me what I'd had for dinner on Friday. I mean, if I could've at least said, "And a salad" or "And an apple for dessert..."

So I'm off to get an ultrasound of my gall bladder on Friday. I don't really know what the next steps are, but I hope they eventually lead to me being able to eat peanut butter again.

Sleeping with one eye open

 Where I once found pictures of puppies and rainbows, I came home yesterday to this lovely drawing.

Her explanation:

"Mommy. It's just a zombie."

They still count though, right?

We're doing this cool thing at work to encourage everyone to be more active.

Everybody got a pedometer, and we're tracking how many steps we take over an eight week period.

Apparently the recommended daily number of steps is 10,000.

I am here to tell you, that's a helluva lot of steps.

But on Saturday, I logged over 14,000!

I was surprised, because I went on a long walk with S on Sunday, but I couldn't really think of anything specific I had done on Saturday to bump my total up like that.

I had done a little Just Dance magic that morning, and then the usual Saturday morning housecleaning blitz...but frankly, I spent the majority of Saturday afternoon working my way through a pile of unread issues of Vanity Fair.

And then I remembered: Saturday evening I suggested we all walk down to McDonald's for McFlurries.

So. Every journey to weight gain begins with a single step.

Scared Straight

I was in a marathon meeting yesterday at work. When it ended at 2:30, I saw that there was a message waiting for me on my work phone.

"Hi Mrs. C, this is _____ from the Children's Aid Society, could you please give me a call?"

I immediately called back, left a message, and then.....I waited......

To say that I was worried would be an understatement. My mind was racing - had I yelled at one of the girls in public lately? (Let he who does not have the worst brought out of him at Wal-Mart cast the first stone.) Did the lunch we sent to camp with K actually qualify as abuse? (Honestly, all she agreed to take was a bun with butter!) Did the alarming number of mosquito bites on the kids' legs show that I am a neglectful parent? (We're a tasty family, what can I say?)

Eventually the woman returned my call, and very slowly said, "Mrs. C...I received a message from a colleague....[Frankly, at this point I thought I might throw up] ... "

It was regarding a VERY random work question. She didn't seem to have much of a sense of humour when I let out a huge sigh of relief. (She should be thankful I didn't burst into tears.)

DH thought I was being silly, but I defy any parent to sit for an hour waiting for someone from CAS to call them back for an unspecified reason and not get a little antsy.

So, now the great experiment begins! Did this scare me straight? Am I going to cheerfully answer every  request, even at 7:10 am? Am I going to smile understandingly when dinner is rejected with an eye roll or a gagging noise? Will I enthusiastically sit through an episode of Austin & Ally?

Probably not.

But you'd better believe I made some promises to God during that long hour, and I intend to keep them.