Anyone available to chat it out on a lovely Saturday afternoon?
How on earth did I think I would have time for writing? Cripes.
Must remember to charge my ipod.
It's a sickness.
Edited to add: #1 beta is at the doctor's right now. I suppose I can be patient, she's absent for a good reason.
This always happens.
I have returned from the brink now.
Plotty slash stories are so awesome. They create so much work and anguish for me as I try to make them come out the way I want them too. Fortunately that's what I consider to be fandom fun.
THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO IS HUMOURING ME
My friend Em suggested I rename the series to "The Progress of Sherlock Holmes", which I quite like. I will get to that when I'm back home too.
O_O CAN I DO IT?
I have no idea if the thing I finished last night is alright or LAUGHABLY RIDICULOUS and yet I still want to publish it just for the satisfaction of calling it finished.
WAIT FOR A BETA.
OMG I HAVE NO ABILITY TO DO THIS THING
In other news: I have just received an email from my boss thanking me for my "breathless enthusiasm". These things, they go hand in hand, don't they. BREATHLESS ENTHUSIASM IS ANOTHER TERM FOR CRAZY IMPATIENT.
When I was offline in December, off at a cult-like retreat, one of my mentors suggested that my obvious flexibility indicated I would enjoy yoga. I had no idea what he was talking about until he mentioned my apparently unwillingness to stand like a normal person. And that is the entire story of the below photo, taken tonight just before I got on the bus to come home.
Record yourself saying the following:
* Your name and/or username
* Where you’re from (My two places: Guelph, Ontario, Canada; and Mississauga, Ontario, Canada)
* The following words: Aunt, Roof, Route, Wash, Oil, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, Sure, Data, Ruin, Crayon, Toilet, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Spitting Image, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Syrup, Pajamas, Caught, Orange, Coffee, Direction, Naturally, Aluminium and Herbs
I added a few: Out, about (not aboot!), stout, sorry.
Answer the following questions:
* What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
* What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
* What do you call gym shoes?
* What do you say to address a group of people?
* What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?
* What do you call your grandparents?
* What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
* What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
* What is the thing you change the TV channel with?
Just got the official news from my endocrinologist (the one who largely has no bedside manner, but who I have to admit is really growing on me with her impeachable competence, absolute non-judgmental attitude, and understanding that my quality of life depends upon her generosity with dosages) that my Tg is undetectable, which is the surest sign possible that I remain cancer-free. I told her about the boondoggle with my GP, and she is sending him a primer and explanation of her actions.
I think it would be easy to fall into the trap of thinking that "no cancer" is our default state, the state we deserve, and "cancer" is exceptional and the alarm state, and therefore feel that I am merely basking in the status quo, enjoying normal, just like everyone else. But I know the reality, which is that questions of deserving don't enter into it at all. So I maintain my sense of deep and abiding gratitude that I've been passed over for another year. There but for the grace of blind chance go I. A moment of zen.
My endocrinologist adjusted my meds, but only very slightly. She showed me the numbers and explained why my GP freaked out. She says I need to be kept at what would normally be considered "high normal" where thyroid hormone is considered, which on paper falls between 20-22. Currently mine is 24. A GP, apparently, would see this as a dangerous number and want to slash my dosage by half. But the goal is to keep me at 22, so I'm only a bit too high. Interesting! (Well, to me, at least!)
So instead of just dropping my dose, she's giving me two doses; one to take 3 days a week and one to take the other 4. I'm going to get only of those weekly pill containers old ladies need to keep track of all their drugs.
In sum: life is good. Life is very good. It's short at the best of times, don't forget!
Then he looked at my thyroglobulin, and said, "that seems really low." And I said, well, yeah, that's good, it should be, it's produced by thyroid tissue. "No no, I think it's made in the liver."
Hahaha he looked it up. (On wikipedia.) "Damn, I hate it when patients are right!" LOL
I really do love this guy, he's very funny and supportive and willing to drop everything if I need help, but there reaches a point where you just know more about your own condition than a GP would. He said, "Let's leave it in you endocrinologist's lap!" I don't know whether to slap him for getting involved in specialist-ordered tests or just laugh.
Laugh...AFTER CRYING ALL THE TEARS MADE OF FEAR. O_O
I have no idea. Of course they won't give me any clues over the phone, except to say that it's about the one blood test I do every year to monitor whether my thyroid cancer has returned. I kind of hate them for not telling me. I presume that this isn't about the cancer and is in fact about my meds and the fact they the dose is probably too high (I've lost weight). Presumably. My GP is a really nice guy and I appreciate that he wants to do right by me, but this has kind of freaked me out.
I wonder if you ever get good at living with anxiety. Something tells me I'm going to get a chance to test that theory.
My problem now is that I don't know how to make it end. So I wouldn't mind some feedback on it. But I can't think of anyone besides the person its written for who would be up for reading it. She absolutely cannot see it until Wednesday, when she really needs it. Mostly I just need someone to help me work out how to end it. At this point I'm not sure if it should be public or not, even, so you don't have to slave over it, or anything. Which is a good thing, since it's 11K words long. (Two days of work. 11K words. I may be slightly mad myself.) And it still needs an ending of some kind.
Do I know anyone who would be willing to do a gentle read over, understanding how totally sensitive (and probably triggery) this topic is?