Having a job is clearly bad for your health

It's my second post in a week! Wha? Are you people loving my unemployment or what?

I have to say, it's not been hard to slip into. I always hear people who talk about how they could never work from home or couldn't not go to a job every day, but I think those people are rationalizing having to go to a job every day. AmIright?

I've been busy! I don't get bored, because I have tons to do and I get to do it in my pajamas or jeans or from my bed or a coffee shop. I've been working on my new website (please go check it out!) and ordering business cards and looking for work like crazy and (!) I've been exercising. Shocking, I know. With all the health stuff that had been happening the last year or so, it feels so great to have time to go for a long walk or hike and, now that it's rainy in Portland again, work out in my living room. And not being chained to a desk? So much better for my ever-widening ass, regardless of what my boyfriend says about how bootilicious I am.

I hate those people who talk about their workouts or get all sanctimonious about their health, but I have to say that I think the one big detriment to my health was work! Now that I have time to exercise and less stress and I've been getting sleep (both because I'm not stressed about going to work, but also because I don't have to get up at 6am), I feel great! Sure, I don't have any money and I have to hustle like karazay to get an income (hello, unemployment, ugg), but I feel good.

When I first moved to Portland, I worked from home for almost a year and it was the most glorious year of my life, second to living in France, bien sur. Today, I walked down to a coffee shop and met with my financial advisor (yes, I have one. I DID use to have a job after all.) and we talked about my plans and got my investments in order for this new phase, which also felt great! And now I'm sitting in the shop doing some writing and drinking a ginourmous tea and then I'll look for more work and then who knows! Maybe I'll clean my house or something.

I think I'm scaring the other coffee shop people

And then because I don't have much money, I have to be economical with my food purchasing, which ends up being healthier in a sense. It's cheaper to buy a bag of potatoes or rice and a block of cheese and maybe some eggs and make those stretch than eat fast food, which seems cheap but isn't. And, because I was raised pretty durn poor, I'm good at cooking those types of foods. Sure, I suck at cooking fancy foods, but I can't afford fancy ingredients right now anyway. And, again, I apologize if I sound sanctimonious, because mama loves a good burger and fries (oh yes she does), but being forced to cook more is helping my waistline.

I know I'm not FAT per se (I know okay? so stop telling me.), but I did gain a lot of weight this past year (blame it on being in love) and while I'm not in danger yet, I could easily get really fat if I don't change a few things. This year it's 25 pounds and then next year it's 30 and then the next thing I know, I'll be sewing my own mumus because no stores even make my size. A girl just has to keep that in check.

Besides, I can't afford to shop right now so it behooves me to not gain any weight. Because, you know, what would I wear?

Brilliant segue.

I know I never updated anyone on my health/bladder situation, so here it is. I saw a bladder-gyno specialist (I forget his real title) and got the most uncomfortable exam of my life (though he was very kind and comforting) and discovered parts of my lady bits that I didn't even know existed (ugg) and he asked me a thousand questions and I had to keep a urinary diary (double ugg) and then consensus is that it's one of three (or two) things.

First, I'm not getting actual bladder infections (UTIs), but it could be an infection of the urethra or some other place with a big name that I can't remember but which wouldn't show up in a urinalysis. And there's no way to know if that's the case unless I get another infection.

The other thing it could be is endometriosis, which I know I have around my uterus and ovaries and apparently it's possible to attach to my bladder as well. Hooray.

Because I'm unemployed now, however, I also don't have insurance. So this great doctor saw fit to prescribe me antibiotics that target the lady parts, which I filled a couple weeks ago and can keep on hand in case another "infection" comes up. If those clear it up, that's probably what it is.

If those don't clear it up, it's probably endo, which the doc would first use a scope to look inside my bladder and/or do a laparoscopy to clean it all up (which would happily include my uterus too), but which is a minimally invasive procedure (still not awesome), and which I'd still need insurance to pay for. Zoinks.

And even though I've known about my endo for years and years, I've chosen not to have a laparoscopy because I prefer to manage with birth control pills, which I take continuously so as not to have a period. Glory be. And my old doc wanted to wait until I wanted to get preggers (because it gives you a fertility window), which he always wanted more than me, the judgey prick, but since I have no plans to get knocked up any any any time soon, I really didn't see the benefit when I can just skip my periods.

Of course, if it's causing my bladder issues, that's another story. But, again, insurance. Health care is so fucked.

But! I've been feeling good and maybe with my new, laissez faire lifestyle, I won't get sick and this is all moot. One can hope right?

Before I leave you, I'll beg you once again to go check out my new photography website and then go like the facebook page and then please tell your friends! Mama needs work! Me love you long time.

Health and happiness and some shit like that

Lots has been happening the last month and year and, well, my whole life really and it's really had me considering the importance/non-importance of health and happiness and how those things really shape our (my) daily lives.

This is going to be one of those rambly long posts, the kind of writing that ambles about in the woods not really searching for a destination, but is really only looking at the trees and how tall they are and my gosh bark is crazy when you think about it and why are pine needles so different than leaves and squirrels are incredibly cute assholes.

Ahem.

Just like that.

As a follow up from my last post, I finally got in to see my primary care doctor at Kaiser and I can see why he's so hard to get an appointment with; the guy is a great doctor, just what you want in a doctor: firm but kind, asks lots of questions and actually listens to your answers and works to figure out how to make your feel better and/or ease your fears. I don't know the last time I had such a good experience with a doctor.

And he also addressed Dr. Bitchface and how she called me fat. He actually pulled out a chart and showed me where I fall on the scale of overall health and weight and showed me where most people are (Scary Land) and where I am (Not too bad at all). He encouraged me to exercise more, but said I'm actually in good shape and he's not worried about me.



Huge sigh of relief.

It's amazing how one person's, one expert's, opinion or reassurances can change your whole self perception. it's amazing how hearing you're doing a good job or you're not fucking up your life completely can make you feel better, can make getting through the rough shit easier.

Anyway, he ran a full blood panel and I go back in a couple weeks for imaging to see if I have any cysts or growths and then I follow up with him. Here's hoping.

It seems obvious that health and happiness go hand in hand, but I don't think most of us live that way. One is usually sacrificed for the other and it's rare that most people have even one. I always preach about balance and all that, but it doesn't always happen. I know that yoga or dance, etc., make me both physically and mentally happy, but when I can't afford classes, it's easier to just skip and say, "soon."

So what's more important? I'm not saying we just give up and I certainly try to find ways to exercise or whatever, but it's hard when you scrape by to do just what you live and the best things to be healthy and well.

And most of us don't live our dream lives, don't have the dream jobs and the dream houses and all those other accoutrements we pictured for ourselves. There's something to be said for being responsible and holding down that shitty job and smiling through the stress and paying rent on that crappy apartment, because that's adulthood and that's responsibility and that's just life.

I have nothing but respect for those who do what they have to. My dad always did and I'd like to think I do too.

Or maybe those things are easier if one just feels a little fulfilled by their work, feels accomplishment, feels appreciated and valued in what they do regardless if what they do is what they want or not. Just knowing you're important and valauable is enough to feel a little satisfaction.

But is that really happiness? Where does happiness come in? In this world of pleasures and art and beauty are we not the least bit deserving of some happiness? How do we make time for joy? Is that only a privilege of the rich? How else does one pursue their dreams if they don't have the resources to fund them?



Or maybe that's only the life of Europeans. Maybe I have to live in Italy or Montmartre to have la belle vie.

I'd love nothing more than to abandon the 8 to 5, live that bohemian life, to spend my days making art, taking photos and painting and writing, traveling, eating and loving. But who can afford to do that?

They say money can't buy happiness, but it sure affords the time to pursue it. But maybe if I could afford all the time, I wouldn't appreciate what little there is.

Now, don't misunderstand. I've had my fair share of bold moves in the search for joy and I've had and do have joy, happiness, love. Hell, I quit my job and moved to another state without a job and without knowing more than 3 people there. And there are days when I get homesick and I question my decisions. Don't we all? But every move I've made, I've made for me and so that's gotta be good.




And this has been a big year too. Over a year ago, I wandered into a bar where I didn't know a soul, planted myself on a barstool, made new friends who would then introduce me to Eminem. I can't believe it's been a year. He and I are coming up on our anniversary in a couple weeks, counting of course from the night I took him home and not from our first date. Guess which came first?

Sometimes I think my whole purpose in life is to debunk ideas of appropriate female sexual behavior.

Anyway, we're coming up on a year and we're talking about getting a place together in the fall (damned budgets and leases) and I can say with absolute conviction that he makes me happy. Maybe that makes me a bad feminist or a bad therapy patient or something. Yes, no one else can *make* us happy, sure; we have to make ourselves happy. Blah blah blah. I can probably go back and link up all the posts where I've written just that.

But he does. He does. So there. Suck it, psychology.

There are a million little things that he does that make me happy. His existence in the world makes me happy. It makes me happy that he loves me and it makes me happy to love him. He appreciates me and who I am and that makes me happy too.



Is this scary as shit? Fuck yes. Do I feel totally safe with him and therefore even more scared than one would think? Am I worried that it will all come crashing down and this huge bundle of happiness we have will all blow away? Absofuckinglutely. But the scariest things always feel the best, don't they? Hell yes they do. That's what's so awesome about it.

Because I'm happy and so it's worth it. Happiness. Funny thing, that.

And despite my doctor's lack of worry about my weight, the fact remains that I'm carrying more weight than I ever have and I'm pretty sure it's because I'm happy and in love. Literally fat and happy, if you will.

I can accept being curvier if I get love. Maybe I could also have a life full of art too? Is that asking too much?

My Doctors Always Suck, otherwise entitled Why I Hate Kaiser

I've met people who like Kaiser Permanente. They're real people out there in the world and they don't hate their healthcare. Weird, I know.

Backstory. I have yet to have a great experience with a doctor.

Wait. That's a lie. I have had one great experience with an ear, nose, throat specialist who, after my 6th sinus infection in a row, told me I have a deviated septum and changed my life with a little invention called saline. He also told me to not let any doctor bully me into surgery and that it was my choice and surgery doesn't always fix things and to do my research first. And then I asked him to marry me.

And it goes without saying that I have had nothing but wonderful experiences with Planned Parenthood, though you only see a nurse, but that nurse and the staff are all welcoming, wonderful people who listen to your needs and see you as a human being.

And then there was that time in Marseille when I got horrific food poisoning and a doctor came to my hotel room, examined me nicely, gave me magic pills that made me better, and never charged me a thing. Go France!

Other than that, doctors have been not great pour moi. I have friends and family in the medical field and I have to assume they're nice and talented and treat their patients well, but that just hasn't been my personal experience with my own doctors. If I tell you all my stories, this post would be a tome, so I won't.

Suffice to say, I hate going to the doctor and do so reluctantly and only when necessary. I am all about health, but have figured out the hard way that the only way to be healthy is to be my own advocate and, often, to treat myself.

Cut to this morning. No, wait, I should back up. I have had chronic UTIs, otherwise knowns as bladder infections, for the last year. I try to treat naturally with water and cranberry juice and good hygiene, but I keep getting them. Last October, I got a vicious one and had to go to a Kaiser clinic because my primary doc is always booked up and they did urinalysis, confirmed the infection, and treated me with antibiotics.

So, yesterday I came down with another infection. Not wanting to fuck around and, after talking to a friend in the medical field and learning that sometimes chronic UTIs can be a sign of a kidney infection, I got an appoint for this morning, but with a new Kaiser doc because, again, my doc is always booked up.

I got there early, peed in the little cup, and waited to meet this new doctor and find out what's the deal. This doctor, she, well, she was awful. She went into the room with all these preconceived notions of who I am and how I take care of myself and didn't listen to a word I said. She looked at me like I was making up my symptoms, which is especially insulting because my mother is a true hypochondriac, and told me that it probably wasn't a real infection all these times and I probably just don't eat well.

And then she went on a rant about how Americans eat and I just can't eat all that processed food and that's why I'm overweight (!) and that the bad food inflamed my bladder and made me think I had an infection.

All the while, I'm trying to explain to her that, while I'm not perfect, I do try to eat well and I always read ingredients because of my food allergies, and I gained weight this year because my exercise changed, etc etc etc.

And she didn't hear one word I said. I tried asking her about my kidneys but she wouldn't hear it. She looked at me like I was this fat slob who overate and didn't watch what I ate and I deserved to be getting this symptoms and I'm pretty dumb to think it's a real infection. She also told me that the doctor I'd seen in October overreacted and I didn't have much (!) of an infection and I probably didn't need antibiotics.

I explained that if that were true, I'd be upset because I try to not take antibiotics if I don't need them and why would a doctor say I had an infection when I didn't?

She said I didn't have an infection this time and I was fine. I told her I drank a ton of cranberry juice yesterday and maybe the infection has cleared up already. Again, she wouldn't hear it, just kept telling me how passionate she is about eating well and health and told me she just cares about me and wants me to be healthy.

I finally talked her into at least doing a blood panel to look for food allergens, because I've been trying to get a Kaiser doctor to do that for a year as well and because it was the only reason she'd concede to be why I keep having these symptoms. And I won't get the results for a week. And then I was sent on my merry way, still having symptoms, and feeling the most judged and the most unheard and unseen I've felt in a long time.

First of all, even if food can cause those symptoms, it's an awfully large assumption to make without talking to me and letting me explain my eating habits. She just assumed I didn't know what I eat when the exact opposite is true. I do a ton of research on what I eat because eating is so perilous for me already. Yes, sometimes I eat bad foods and, yes, I eat too much even of good foods. But I am not unaware of what I eat.

Second, even if food is the cause of my symptoms, looking at me like I'm a horrible, stupid, and naive person is not her job. It's her job to help me figure out the problem and solve it. Instead she basically told me I was too fat and couldn't take care of myself.

Never mind that I'm not fat. I gained 25 pounds this year, sure, but before that I was a good weight and I've already lost five pounds and I'm working hard to find my exercise routine as an adult that doesn't have 5 dance classes a week. I'm not unaware of my weight gain and I've never struggled with my weight before now. I'm just older and figuring things out and a little compassion would be great. But she just assumed she knew who I am and how I live.

Third, what if it isn't food? She just refused to entertain any other options. What if it is a kidney infection and what if it continues untreated? I don't know what it is and it isn't really my job to find out because I didn't go to medical school. And it is her job! But I don't think she ever planned on exploring what was my issue. She is obviously on a crusade for health food, which isn't inherently a bad thing, but if I came in with cancer warning signs, would she send me on my way and tell me to eat more tomatoes? At some point, a doctor who works in traditional medicine has to actually practice tradition medicine!

Yes, wellness is important. Of course it is. Yes, I need to lose weight. I'm working on it. Yes, we all need to know what we're eating, but I do! If all I needed was a nutritionist, why am I paying insurance premiums to get shuffled between doctors and get told I'm a stupid, fat, American and not worth listening to? Why ever see a doctor at all?

That said, I'm at this very moment trying to get into my primary doctor. Because I think I should get a second opinion. Also, because I still feel sick and she didn't give me any guidance whatsoever on how to feel better! And I feel like I spent my entire morning and paid $20 to have a highly paid professional tell me how bad a person I am.

If I don't get in today, I am canceling my insurance. What good is it? What the hell am I paying for? If I just wanted to be berated, I'd befriend Jillian Michaels.

I guess, at the end of the day, I just wanted to be heard. I am my own advocate. I do take my health seriously. I do know how to listen to my body. And I just wanted my doctor to give me the chance to explain that.

I just wanted to not be treated like I'm my mother, a drug addict hypochondriac who, by the way, is always able to bully doctors into whatever pills she wants and whatever diagnosis she has in mind. Hell, maybe my mom is on to something there.