My own medical drama...

I've been dealing with some weird medical issues lately.  I really miss the days when I'd be sick, the doctor would take a strep test or some blood or something, and come back and tell me what was wrong with me and how to fix it.  I feel like my medical issues have decided to match the rest of adulthood and be vague, confusing, and decidedly not fun.  I really don't think that's cool.

I have had joint pain since I was young, and I had arthroscopic surgery to remove symptomatic plica from my knees at age 12 for one knee and 15 for the other.  That pretty much put me out of sports and much activity at all, and all around sucked.

Over the past few years, my hips and shoulders have started hurting as well.  I decided to go to a doctor about it last summer, and a blood test came back ANA positive.  Apparently ANA's are anti-nuclear antibodies and the test is used to screen for autoimmune disorders, mainly lupus.  It doesn't mean I necessarily have lupus, though.  Kind of an uncertain test, but with my joint pain, fatigue, anemia, and cold fingers and toes, the doctor felt it wise to send me to a rheumatologist.

The rheumatologist told me that I didn't look sick.  He gave me a cortisone shot and sent me on my way.  Very disappointing and confusing.

I went to another rheumatologist.  He told me, in a nicer way, that I didn't seem sick.  He said that maybe my joint pain stemmed from the H1N1 I had last May.

Okay, so maybe I don't have lupus.  I don't want to have lupus, but I do want a doctor to tell me that a 23-year-old girl should not be in pain and tired all the time.  Just saying.

So, I go to another general practitioner.  I have my third ANA test performed, and it's the third positive.  Why do they keep doing this test if it doesn't even mean anything??

I decide not to bother with the rheumatologist again.  It's $50 every time I go, and I don't want to hear that I'm not sick again.

However, today, someone told me about fibromyalgia.  Apparently it's a disorder that makes you feel pain and be tired.  Sounds familiar, especially when coupled with the nerve pain I have had in my arm and the "growing pains" I still experience in my legs.  However, fibromyalgia is also characterized by additional pain when you press "tender points" all over the body.  I'm not having success in hurting myself in my at-home tender-point test.

I'm kind of afraid to go back to the rheumatologist, but I think I should.  I guess my strongest desire with all of this is to just figure out what's wrong with me, and be done with all the uncertainty.  At least then I'll know what I can do to fix it or at least help myself feel better.  For instance, the Mayo Clinic recommends breaks and naps during the day for lupus patients, but tells those with fibromyalgia to limit daytime napping.  So, I guess I want someone to tell me if I should nap or not.

I'm really just confused, annoyed, and a bit scared.  I don't believe in god, so I don't think this is some sort of punishment, but damn, it would be a good one.

Between the hernia I was born with, the plica syndrome, the multiple oral surgeries in middle school, the kidney infection that sent me to the hospital in high school, the stomach virus I caught from an infant that sent me to the hospital in college, the freaking swine flu I got on our honeymoon, and now all this auto-immune stuff, I've pretty much been at odds with my body my whole life.  But hey, at least I don't look sick...

The Scarlet Letter

I've been seeing posts on Facebook lately reminding me that next week is "A" week.  Meaning I should replace my current profile picture with the symbol somebody chose to represent atheism, and particularly Atheism Awareness Week. 

I'm still trying to decide if I'll participate.  

On one hand, I do believe that it would be great if atheists were accepted and viewed as a valuable part of society.  If I had known atheists when I was in middle school, some of my religious crises might have been avoided.  I am proud of my secular lifestyle and my rational beliefs.  I also believe that many people don't realize how many atheists there really are out there, and I definitely don't think they realize that there are nice, friendly, normal girls who don't rant and rave all the time about religion who are strong atheists as well.  

On the other hand, Facebook is full of aunts, moms, acquaintances, and former pastors.  While I'm not ashamed of my atheism (it's publicly listed as my "religious views"), I still don't feel the need to be pushy or rub my personal beliefs in anyone's face.  I don't want to be offensive or misinterpreted.  

I am, however, sick of the bible verses people post on there daily.  I'm even more sick of the "you're love for God is awesome!" comments that their friends leave for them.  Yes, that grammar error is there on purpose.  

I have a feeling many of my Southern Facebook friends will have no idea what the A stands for.  Perhaps adultery?  It is a scarlet A, after all.  Maybe that was a poor choice, maybe it was chosen on purpose.  I'm not sure.  

I realize that I'm way over-thinking this, since we're talking about a Facebook profile picture that will be posted for a week.  But hey, I'd rather over-think something this irrelevant than many other things going on in my life right now, so humor me, and let me know your opinion! 

The Soundtrack of my Childhood

I decided to change it up and do a fun post, so here's the soundtrack of my childhood!  Hopefully this will bring me out of the funk I've been in lately...

I was 3 when Disney's The Little Mermaid came out, and it left a huge impression on me.  I absolutely loved that movie, and my mom got a cassette tape that was pretty much Sebastian's solo album.  It was awesome.  My mom played it in the minivan every morning on our way to school, and it was just about the happiest music ever. I still have a soft spot for reggae music to this day!


The other tape my mom had in the car was the soundtrack to Beaches.  I'm pretty sure the only track we listened to was Wind Beneath My Wings, but for some reason, I loved it.  I still think it's a sweet song...


Until I was about 7, we had a housekeeper who came maybe once a week and also watched me and my sister every once in a while.  Her name was Joanie, and she was great.  I loved going to her house and snapping green beans from her garden at her kitchen table.  She listened to country music while she cleaned, and of course I picked up some of her taste.  I had a country line dancing VHS, and I loved to put on my black jean skirt and my cowgirl boots and dance in the den.  My favorite song was, of course, Achy Breaky Heart by Billy Ray Cyrus!  Don't you love the clothes in this video??


My dad also had a huge influence on my musical interests growing up.  He always listened to the oldies radio station in the car, and had a few BeeGees, Beach Boys, and 50s/60s compilation cassettes that we listened to.  Listening to the oldies turned me onto the Beatles, and I developed a strong passion for the Beatles by the time I was in 4th grade.  I had their posters on my wall and the first cds I ever bought were the Beatles' Yellow Submarine and Magical Mystery Tour.  As I started to develop into a more introverted, thinking person, I grew to really love the song The Fool on the Hill, and listened to it on repeat for hours.


Although I had my quiet, sad moments, I definitely knew how to follow a trend and fall for a craze, which is why when the following song came out around my 9th birthday, I immediately bought the cd and practiced the dance in my room for hours.  I was extremely embarrassed when my sister knocked on my door and told me my jumping was shaking the walls...


We soon move into my moody, angsty teenage years, which I will explore in another post.  Can't wait to share all the Marilyn Manson, NIN, and Radiohead with you!

She's not my mommy...

I'm coming up on the one-year mark at my job as a nanny. It's a very unique job, one that comes with a unique set of rewards and stresses. Over the past year, I've struggled quite a bit with many of those stresses.

I think my biggest issue is that, while I am practically raising these kids, they are not mine, and I have little say in how I raise them. I am not their mother, and I do not choose what they eat, wear, or do. It is difficult to do something that comes so naturally to me, but not do it the way that feels right to me.

The kids are alive, happy, and healthy, but nearly every day, one of the parents reminds me of something I'm not doing right. One day last week, I let the kids watch Monsters vs. Aliens. They were in a cuddly, movie kind of mood, and it was enjoyable. Today, I arrive to work with a new rule: no movies except on "special occasions." Is a cuddly mood a special occasion? I'm not sure. I do know that the kids are smart and fit, and if they were mine, I would think nothing of a movie once a week. But now I'm second-guessing myself and feeling guilty over something that I don't think is wrong.

I imagine there is always somewhat of a power struggle between parents and nannies. The parents have chosen careers over staying home and raising their children, and they have hired an outsider to come in and take care of the kids for them. That, in and of itself, is an odd arrangement, but it makes sense. If no one hired people to raise their kids, we'd either have no professionals or no kids. Bad plan.

However, I bet the parents feel guilty. They feel that they are not providing enough love, attention, and affection to their kids. They feel bad when the nanny walks in every morning and the kids go hug her. They don't want to lose their kids' love. But they need their income, and they need to get out and do something "grown-up."

So, to make up for that guilt, they make rules. They make sure that they are involved in the raising of the kids, by leaving two-page lists of rules every once in a while. They remind the nanny, subtly, that they are the parents, and what they say goes. The nanny is put in her place.

All of this is reversed for the nanny. She is spending more waking hours with the kids than the parents are every week, but they are not hers. They do love the parents more. They tell her, every so often, how much they miss their parents. Sure, they love her, too, but she's definitely the runner-up. She invests her time and energy into them, and they run to the door when they hear their parents' cars in the driveway. She knows that, one day, she will not be needed any more. That she may not be at their high school graduations, their weddings, the birth of their babies.

So, to ease the pain, she breaks the rules. Sure, you can watch a little TV. Yes, you can have macaroni and cheese again. Maybe even a non-organic cupcake. Anything to hear a little voice say, "I wove you!"

Because that's basically what everyone wants, when you get down to it.

The end of an era

Yesterday afternoon, I held my final jewelry show. I've been selling a particular line of "high fashion" jewelry for two years, and am relieved to be done with it. As I drove to the venue, I reflected on how much I had grown through my experience as a direct sales jewelry lady.

When I started direct sales, I had little experience with the industry. I didn't know that most of my potential customers would be extremely wary of me and my business. I bought into the hype-- the "I make $400 a night, and you can, too!" sales pitch was pretty exciting. Also, the woman who signed me-- my "mom"-- was very friendly and got along with my dog, which is usually a good sign. We'll call her A. I earned a few hundred dollars worth of free jewelry at my first show, and I was hooked.

I did my research and investigated other direct sales jewelry companies, but decided the low price point and quality guarantee of the company I chose would encourage the most sales. My biggest worry was the blurb about "Christian values" in the catalog-- was this a heavily religious company? Would I be expected to promote values that weren't my own? A reassured me that I would not, that the religious aspect of the company was very small, and they were welcoming to all. I signed my papers and paid my $400 excitedly over lemonade at Panera.

I made $494 at my first show, and earned a few hundred dollars worth of jewelry for my sample table. I went out and bought a table, a rolling cart, prizes, and various tools of the trade. I was excited. $494 was a lot of money for a 21-year-old girl used to minimum wage retail jobs. During my second month, I had 4 home shows, earned $1021 before fees, and signed on a new jeweler to my downline. My upline was so proud of me. I felt like I was accepted, loved, and valued-- and I had money to spend on more jewelry!

4 months after I signed up, I traveled to Texas for a national convention. I was told "Rally" would change my life. I watched thousands of 50-year-old women scream like teenagers at a Jonas Brothers concert when the aging founders of the company rolled into the convention center-- on a horse-drawn carriage. I watched videos of missionaries spreading the gospel to people across the world. I heard stories of how this company saved so many struggling women's families by offering hope and money. The only part that really inspired me was the announcement of the company's highest grossing jewelers. I wanted to grow a massive downline and make thousands of dollars a week on their success.

At rally, I asked A to be a bridesmaid in my upcoming wedding. I felt like she truly cared about me, was accepting of me, had taken my hand and guided me through this bizarre land of jewelry ladies. She told me she was honored. I felt that I had a real friend.

I continued doing between 2 and 4 shows a month, far from my 2-a-week goal. I continued offering the "opportunity" to women at my shows. I had a few bites, but no catches. I started to deal with the unhappy customers-- the ones whose jewelry took too long to arrive, arrived broken, was starting to deteriorate. I had my first hostess fall off the face of the planet after scheduling a show. Despite being unable to contact her, I showed up at her doorstep and watched her feet through the blinds as she peeked out the peephole and ran away. Needless to say, my fiance stopped going to her for haircuts.

A few weeks after Rally, A called me up and sadly explained to me that she wouldn't be able to be my bridesmaid. There was a local jewelry lady training event the day before. I emailed her, letting her know that I would be perfectly fine with her flying out the evening before the wedding, but she didn't reply.

Nine months after I joined the company, I moved across the country. I was excited to be a full-time jewelry lady and start a huge downline in Las Vegas. There were few jewelers in Vegas, and I had plans to become a matriarch of sorts, with my own training and fans. I attended the west coast regional rally with my fiance, and we laughed at the cringe-worthy musical entertainment and religious testimonies.

A gave me a farewell gift, took me out to lunch, and promised she'd record the monthly training for me. She told me she'd always be there for me, and that she would miss me.

In Las Vegas, I held a few successful shows on the Air Force base and met a few promising prospective jewelers. After their husbands got relocated to various bases across the country, I didn't hear from them again. My business in Las Vegas started dwindling. Shows got cancelled, guests didn't show up. I never received any training from my upline back east. Money got tight. I started applying for "real" jobs. I realized that the $400 income from a great show was awesome, but elusive. I was making about $200 a month. I decided to continue with jewelry sales as a side job.

Shortly after my one-year anniversary with the company, which fell a few days before my wedding, I started a full-time job as a nanny. I continued to schedule the occasional Sunday afternoon jewelry show. I had a good set-up, and the extra few hundred dollars a month was nice.

At one show, a woman ordered an $89 watch. The jewelry was shipped to me, and I offered to mail it to her. She told me she'd rather pick it up from me, and she promised to call when she was in the area. After a week of holding her watch, I let her know I'd be going out of town for a few weeks, and I could mail it to her beforehand, or she'd need to wait to pick it up. She said she'd wait. I called and left a message when I got back, but didn't hear from her for a while.

Finally, she called and demanded to know where her watch was. She told me that she had been waiting for me to mail it to her ever since the show. I politely told her I'd get it in the mail to her the next day. One hour after I mailed it, a woman from the home office called me. She told me she had just heard from this woman saying I had stolen her money and never sent her the watch. The woman from the home office didn't want to hear my story. She told me I had to refund the woman her $89 immediately. I asked if the company would be refunding me the $44.50 I paid them for the watch, and she said no. It was my problem. I had to let the woman have the watch, and her money, or my business would be shut down. I grudgingly sent off a check for nearly $100 to the thief. I never heard from her again.

After this incident, I realized that the "Christian values" the company bragged about in their catalog were only a front to get more money. The company was there to make money, and that was about it. My upline didn't want to hear my problems, in fact, they didn't want to hear anything from me other than how much money I made for them. I realized that A was not the kind, caring friend I had imagined her to be. She was an obsessive jewelry lady with one goal-- money. When I sent out my wedding invitations, my upline-- always bragging about their insane income-- all regretfully declined.

During my last year, I held a handful of shows and dreaded each one. I never heard from A after the watch incident. I think she was a savvy business woman after all. She knew when to cut her losses.

As I headed out the door yesterday for my final show-- more of a sample sale-- my husband asked me, as he did before every show, if I was excited. For the first time in a year, I said yes.