Thanks for all the thoughts and prayers for my Papa. We won’t know anything for three more hours. He has a tumor the size of a baseball. He’s in surgery to have it removed now.
(more…)

I’m a bit of a brand loyalist. If I find a brand I like, I tend to stick to it. For instance, I knew how much I loved my Sony Ericsson T610 (Jack Bristow’s phone!), so when I had to get a new phone when we switched carriers, I got the most recent Sony Ericsson at the time (the W600i) — mainly because I can drop it and not bust it. I’m good at dropping things.

I’m the same way with digital cameras, too (not the dropping, the loyalty). My mom and stepmom are the same way. My mom prefers Nikons over any other. My stepmom always tends to buy Canon cameras. For me, it’s the Olympus. I had one other digital before this one, and it was an HP. It sucked, so when it came time to buy a new one (we wanted a great camera for our honeymoon cruise), I went electronics shopping and came home with an Olympus. The price was fantastic for what came with the camera (6.1mp, 10x optical zoom — my favorite feature — a bunch of presets, several options for manual photography, video w/ sound, in-camera picture cropping, and a bunch of other bells and whistles). Yes, I heart my camera.

But I’ve gotta say… Just knowing that there is an 18x optical zoom model out there (with all the same bells and whistles) has me itching to buy it. I think I have to hold off until we sell the house, but I wannnnt it.

Now, if I can just find time to read my manual and figure out how to take pictures outside at night…

No pictures! Not while I’m sleeping!

Part 1.

This is my review and in-depth (major depth) analysis of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. There is much to say, so let us continue. I’m going straight through (and telling you my thoughts as I read the book, plus while going back through. If it’s a question that got answered later in the book, assume it’s a question I had during the first reading). SPOILERS ALL THE WAY, AND PROBABLY SPOILERS FOR ANY OF THE OTHER SIX BOOKS:
(more…)

He’s 85 and about to have surgery.

Very cheery.

7 Your country is desolate,
Your cities are burned with fire;
Strangers devour your land in your presence;
And it is desolate, as overthrown by strangers.
8 So the daughter of Zion is left as a booth in a vineyard,
As a hut in a garden of cucumbers,
As a besieged city.
9 Unless the LORD of hosts
Had left to us a very small remnant,
We would have become like Sodom,
We would have been made like Gomorrah.
10 Hear the word of the LORD,
You rulers of Sodom;
Give ear to the law of our God,
You people of Gomorrah:
11 “To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices to Me?”
Says the LORD.
“I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams
And the fat of fed cattle.
I do not delight in the blood of bulls,
Or of lambs or goats.
12 “When you come to appear before Me,
Who has required this from your hand,
To trample My courts?
13 Bring no more futile sacrifices;
Incense is an abomination to Me.
The New Moons, the Sabbaths, and the calling of assemblies–
I cannot endure iniquity and the sacred meeting.
14 Your New Moons and your appointed feasts
My soul hates;
They are a trouble to Me,
I am weary of bearing them.
15 When you spread out your hands,
I will hide My eyes from you;
Even though you make many prayers,
I will not hear.
Your hands are full of blood.

Tammi found out about a recall for Sara Lee whole wheat bread and some store brands as well. She’s very surprised that the bread may have small pieces of metal in it.

Hey Tammi, maybe Sara Lee’s husband forgot that Sara Lee said, “Don’t put the beater for the Kitchenaid mixer in the dishwasher,” and he put the beater in the dishwasher anyway. And the next time Sara Lee used the mixer, metal started flaking off into the batter of the bread.

Not that I would know anything about that…

Anyway, I can’t wait for my replacement beater (it should arrive today, and I’m gonna name it Fred) so I can make more bread.

I know this is what you all anxiously await: my review of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. It’s here, my people! It’s here! There is much to say, so let us begin. I’m going straight through (and telling you my thoughts as I read the book, plus while going back through. If it’s a question that got answered, assume it’s a question I had during the first reading). SPOILERS ALL THE WAY, AND PROBABLY SPOILERS FOR ANY OF THE OTHER SIX BOOKS:
(more…)

I’ve spent a good hour on my review, and I’m almost done with Chapter Two. As y’all know, I get wordy. So… I’m thinking this is gonna be a multi-parter. There are thirty-seven chapters, so I may do something like five or six chapters at a time. Apparently, I’m doing in-depth analysis.

It’s been so rainy here that the mosquitos are out of control. You can’t open the front door without bringing several in with you.

my Deathly Hallows review. It will be up sometime later today. I know y’all can’t wait.

SARAHK: You didn’t finish your ham. Go put it in the fridge.
FRANK J.: Okay… where should I put it?
SARAHK: There are two plastic bags full of ham. And I already told you where to put it. “In the fridge.”

Ok, more like DON’Ts and DON’Ts that I’m framing as DOs.

And this isn’t addressed to all realtors… mainly just the one we met with about a month ago.

1) Do smile. It helps if you smile, ever, during the tour of the house. Don’t walk around the house and say, “Oh yes, white appliances sell just fine!” with a big huge grimace on your face. “Yes, the walls are painted lovely!” while you glare at them with scorn and contempt. Your voice sounds reassuring, but your eyes say you’re a liar.
2) Do dial back the gloom and doom. Don’t tell potential clients, who have not looked at paperwork, who have not signed paperwork, who have not made a decision that you are the realtor for them, that you see doom, DOOOOOOM in their future. Dude. We watch the news. We know the real estate market is low. We know that if we want to maximize our profit, our house will be on the market for a while (though all this staging work and the golf course thing will help a lot).
3) Do meet the dog. Otherwise she’s just gonna whine in her crate the whole time. It’s good you met the dog and weren’t afraid of her puppy butt making her entire body wag in excitement.
4) Do compliment my mad decorating skillz. Seriously, you should have offered me a job staging your listings after seeing just what was finished of the house, and you couldn’t have been less interested? This also goes along with #1. I am a girl, and my ego needs stroking. Hmm. Maybe I need a girl realtor.
5) Don’t tell me my husband has the option of offing me if he wants to sell the house without me. I thought it was kinda funny, though. “The house is only in his name, but you’re married, so now he can’t legally sell it without your signature.” “SCORE!” “Well, don’t be too excited, because now his only option for getting rid of it without your permission is to kill you.” “He’s given me guns on two separate Christmases. It wouldn’t be smart of him to try.”
6) Do look surprised if I say that. He didn’t. Like he was not surprised at all that I would kill the man I love. I adore him!
7) Do know what faux wood blinds are. At the very least, pretend to know what faux wood blinds are. I told this guy that we were replacing all of our miniblinds with faux wood blinds. He barely nodded. When we got to the master bath during the tour, I motioned to the window and noted that we would be putting up the faux wood blinds in there as well… and when we got to the den, and he saw a set of faux wood blinds sitting out (preparing for installation)? He reached out and stroked them and said, “Are these the kind of blinds you were talking about?” And y’all, he’s been in the business for AGES and owns his own branch.
8) Don’t show me every house in the neighborhood that sold for way too cheap and NOT show me the ones that sold for decent prices. I already did some research before you came, so I’m onto your act. You want to sell the house at a major discount so you can get a quick commission. We’re willing to stay here longer if we have to in order to get what the house is worth. It might mean Florida for a little longer, and it’s not exactly a luxury home, but it sure is nice enough to stay in now that we’ve fixed it up.
9) Don’t try to tell me we’re not on a premium lot. I know that having a house on the golf course is going to get us more than $3K to $5K over what’s across the street. If the lot premium was $10K five years ago, I’m not going to buy your ocean-front property in the Painted Desert.

In case it’s not clear, we are most definitely NOT letting this guy put a sign in our yard. We’re going to put our own sign in the yard for a couple of weeks, and if we don’t sell the house quickly, we’ll talk to a different company. Not the man who hasn’t seen the inside of a house in fifty years.

Officials say there is no need to panic; the squid will be returned to the Black Lake at Hogwarts immediately. Apparently, he was just on holiday.

Once we get the house cleaned, the rest of the unnecessary items to storage, and the landscaping finished, we will have one big item left. The garage floor. At minimum it must be cleaned with strong cleaners, and I’d really like to floor it with epoxy (it was a big selling point with the last house). The problem with that is moving things out and in while the epoxy sets. Usually epoxy takes three days before you can move furniture back in (and we do have a tool bench and two cabinets) and a week before you can park a car on the new garage flooring. We might be able to move some things into the kitchen while we wait, but the kitchen will get a tad crowded…

One of the craziest garages I ever saw was attached to this 15,000 square foot mansion. I was there for a charity event for one of my clients, and the garage floor was actually tile. It was the first time I ever saw such a thing. I don’t think I’d want the same thing for my own 15K square foot mansion (haha), but I have to admit it was pretty cool.

Go read what Senators want to do to your interwebz. (Read all the way to the end. Dooo it.)

To Tammi and also to stepmo’, who both celebrated birthdays Saturday.

1 The vision of Isaiah the son of Amoz, which he saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem in the days of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kings of Judah.
2 Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth!
For the LORD has spoken:
“I have nourished and brought up children,
And they have rebelled against Me;
3 The ox knows its owner
And the donkey its master’s crib;
But Israel does not know,
My people do not consider.”
4 Alas, sinful nation,
A people laden with iniquity,
A brood of evildoers,
Children who are corrupters!
They have forsaken the LORD,
They have provoked to anger
The Holy One of Israel,
They have turned away backward.
5 Why should you be stricken again?
You will revolt more and more.
The whole head is sick,
And the whole heart faints.
6 From the sole of the foot even to the head,
There is no soundness in it,
But wounds and bruises and putrefying sores;
They have not been closed or bound up,
Or soothed with ointment.

16 And as many as walk according to this rule, peace and mercy be upon them, and upon the Israel of God.
17 From now on let no one trouble me, for I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus.
18 Brethren, the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit. Amen.

I love vs. 17. Paul’s like, Dudes! Leave me alone! I’ve been scourged, and I’m just tired…

That he could see.

I wrote this post a while back and didn’t have a chance to finish it until now… This is from around the middle of June, when I had my endoscopy to confirm celiac disease, which both Dr. Awesome and I really believe I have.

Lemme back it up a little bit. I could not find my iPod the morning of my endoscopy, which totally stressed me out, because I wanted to sing Carrie Underwood songs the whole way to the hospital so I would come out of anaesthesia singing Carrie Underwood instead of talking politics. Oh well, so be it. Frank and I finally arrived at the right surgery building after that little mixup about Katie Couric ‘tarding up the news. I got all checked in and paid up, and they called me back by myself (Frank didn’t get to come back until later).

My prep nurse this time was named Jan, and she was very nice, though she kind of scowled a bit most of the time. Not at me, just in general. But any time I spoke to her, the scowl disappeared; like I said, she was very nice. She just seemed tired, really. And she made me very comfortable with the hot blanket fresh from the blanket-oven (I love that thing! I want one for my house!) and the warm socks. I later figured out from overlistening that she was new there (maybe Linda quit over Crazy Patient of the Day SarahK on March 16th!).

Once I got changed into my neckid gear (I got to keep my undies this time, yay), they put all the monitors on me — blood pressure cuff, pulse oximeter, all that stuff that I had thrown off me when I had my colonoscopy — and put the sticky pads on my chest. Went over a bunch of paperwork with nurse Jan. Then the IV girl came in to start my IV. I’m almost positive she was the same girl from the last time. She looked soooo familiar. Had I been thinking straight, I would have asked if she’d been recently engaged, because IV girl from the first procedure was recently engaged. But this one actually asked if I’d been in recently, and we talked about how we each looked familiar to the other. Then we jumped up and down and giggled in high pitch like little girls, waving our hands in front of our faces. She went over the paperwork with me again. You know what part of the paperwork I love? The part where they circle which part of the body they’re sticking something in, and you have to initial that piece of paper. For the colonoscopy, they literally circle the buttcrack on the drawing of a person. Not lying! And you have to initial like, yes, I agree that you may stick something in my crack! And for the endoscopy, you have to initial that they may stick something in your mouth. I crack up at that piece of paper! It’s too funny. I mean, if they screw up the procedure and go into the wrong orifice or accidentally cut off your toe or take out your spleen, can’t they just go circle that little sketch man’s appendix? Tell me they can’t do that! You’re lying! So I asked if she would numb my hand before she started my IV, and she said she could do that; I heard Jan ask her something about it outside my curtain, which was how I knew Jan was new–IV Girl was explaining to her that it’s not normal procedure, but if patients ask for it, she does it (did it for me last time as well, as a matter of fact). So she gave me the teeny shot, which I barely felt, and waited for that medicine to dissipate into my hand. After the medicine was in, she stuck in the big needle (22 gauge, peeps!), and I still felt that bad boy! “Oh!” said I. “You felt that?” said she. “Uh huh. Not too bad. I barely felt the first needle go in, though.” Like that’s a big relief when I *did* feel the 22 gauge go in.

And then I felt the urge to tell her that the last time I was there I was a problem patient. I lowered my voice to a whisper. “You know… the last time I was in here, I was a problem patient.” She looked surprised and giggled a little. “You were?” “Yeah. I really ticked off one of the nurses by talking about politics as soon as I was under anaesthesia, and she was not happy with me.” Then IV Girl looked really surprised. “Really? How do you know?” “Oh.” I lowered my voice even more. “She got really hostile with me. Just ugly.” You know what she said? “Oh! I’m so sorry!” It’s not her fault! I said, “Oh, it’s not your fault! I’m just worried, because I couldn’t find my iPod on the way here this morning, and I was really hoping I could listen to Carrie Underwood the whole way here so I could come out of anaesthesia singing Carrie Underwood, and now I just hope I don’t upset someone again.” IV Girl said, “Well, don’t worry about that. I can promise you that everyone here today is very nice.” I said, “Well, I believe you. So far, everyone’s been really nice. And I haven’t seen her so far.” I smiled, she smiled back. She said, “Well, she should have known that you just can’t pay attention to anything patients say under anaesthesia. You don’t have control over that.” Thank you! I said, “Well, that was my thought on it, but…”

So then she was all done, and I was all happy, and a nice nurse lady came in to tell me she’d be in the room with me during the procedure. She was there for the first procedure, too. I remembered her, because she is very pale and looks like she has cancer. I’m not snarking, she really looks like she’s going through something like chemo. Anyway, she asked me the same questions everyone else asked me, because they ask you the same questions over and over, just to make sure the answers don’t change. It’s a good thing they do this, because my answers always change by the end.

So the anaesthesiologist came in to talk to me, the cancer nurse left, and we talked about my epilepsy and my five-day headache that I was sporting, and he said he’d give me Versed when we got in the other room. Whatever that is. He said, “I see you’re not allergic to any meds,” and I said, “Oh, actually, I’m allergic to all the triptans. They make my throat swell.” See? My answers change. He said, “Ooh. You shouldn’t take them, then.” I said, “Yeah, I don’t.” Cancer Nurse came back, said something about my being not allergic to anything, and the anaesthesiologist and I both mentioned the triptans. “Oh, don’t take those then.” Really? I really do think that all medical professionals think civilians are complete morons. I took them a few times until I noticed the pattern of throat-swellingness was related to the triptans and not environmental (doctors wanted to tell me it was environmental), and then I stopped and told the neuro that I would not be taking the triptans. In fact, I tried several triptans at the doctor’s prescription, and eventually, I was the one who said, you know what? I think it’s triptans in general, not just specific triptans. I just can’t take them. Frova, Maxalt, Amerge, Imitrex… all bad! But I digress.

Anaesthesiologist left, and the nurses all came back in to ask if I had someone waiting in the waiting room. I told them my husband was there. What’s his name? “His name is Frank. He also goes by Monkeyface.” They all cracked up and said they would *not* be asking for Monkeyface in the waiting area. Too bad. I like it when he’s embarrassed. :-)

Monkeyface came in, and we sat there cracking jokes very quietly, but I could hear the nurses on the other side of the curtain, and they were listening to us! So we started cracking jokes to make them laugh (at least that’s what I was doing), and I whispered to him, “They’re listening! How funny is that?” As if it’s really funny. But I thought so at the time.

Finally, they came and got me for my procedure. “See you later, Monkeyface! I love you!” I said rather loudly. Everyone in the patient waiting area cracked up. I am nothing if not comic relief. Monkeyface had to stay and wait for me to come out of it.

They wheeled me right into the endoscopy room this time (no queue, I guess), and I saw Dr. Awesome on the phone as I went past. “Hi!” I exclaimed. Like, aren’t you as pleased to see me as I am to see you? He waved and pretended to talk to someone; haha, I bet he does that so patients won’t try to engage him in convo on the way into surgery.

Dr. Awesome came into the surgery room and asked how I was doing. “Terrible. I feel awful. I’m so excited that I finally get to quit gluten again… forever!” I don’t remember his response. Something like, “Yeah!” or whatever doctors say for encouragement. They put me on oxygen, and that’s the last thing I remember.

Until I woke up. I woke up, and the nurse that watches you wake up kept saying my name. “Sarah… Saaaaarah… Sarah, can you hear me?” Dude, I’m sleeping peacefully, I’ll thank you to leave me alone. :) The wake-up nurse, Chris, was very nice. He was *so* not Linda. I even told him so. “You’re so much nicer than the nurse I had last time. She was hateful and hostile just because I started talking politics while I was under anaesthesia.” Lovely. I talk about other people when I’m recovering from the effects. *sigh* Anyway, Chris said he was so laid back and just didn’t care… and Frank was there to tell me that I wasn’t talking about anything this time. Yay!

Dr. Awesome came around and just point-blank told me the results: he took several biopsy samples but saw no severe atrophy on the camera, but he would have the official results (after review under microscope) in a few days. I tried my hardest not to cry. Sad when you’re actually *hoping* for a disease that drastically changes your life, huh?

Leaving the hospital was uneventful. A couple of days later, Dr. Awesome’s office called to make an appointment with me for the next day. I was hopeful. Very hopeful. I mean, why would he want to see me in person to say everything was normal unless he’s actually a decent doctor (and he really is)?

And then I went to the appointment, and he told me everything was normal. But he’s a good doctor. He never tried to tell me that I must be perfectly fine… More on that appointment later.

…because when I took the meat out of the freezer earlier today, I couldn’t tell if I’d taken out cube steaks or ground beef (I usually write on the freezer bag label so I don’t have this problem). So it wasn’t actually until I opened the meat to make dinner that I realized we were having cube steak for dinner. Bummer, kinda, because we had chicken fried steak two days ago. But it turned out really well. I found a recipe for some kind of cube steak dish (with mushrooms, onions, parsley, Worcestershire sauce, and Dijon mustard — I used stone ground mustard instead), and it was fast and easy. Plus we ate before 8 p.m.! New record for us!

No kidding. Kate has a post about something most femine. I have very little to add except this: You *know* a man had to design them. And he did not ask opinions of women; no market research before launch of the products, most definitely. Because yeah. We would have informed him.

Thus ends the women-only post.

SARAHK: Who’s he talking to about his car?
FRANK J.: Your mama.
SARAHK: That is just… over the line.
FRANK J.: You’re over the line.

All this work we’re doing on the house… if it were in a different location and a little bigger, I would want to keep it. But I’m getting excited about settling in somewhere new and buying a house that we plan to keep for a long time. Frank insists that we will at maximum handle one room per month; I keep telling him maybe, but really, I’ll want to actually work on it and get it done right away (once we’re unpacked, of course). Honestly, a little at a time is more affordable, so I know he’s right.

Part of me wants to have a house built to our specs, complete with a giant kitchen (with island), screened-in patio (yes, I’m hooked), rear- or side-entry garage, faux-wood window blinds, a NON-garden tub in the master bath… oh, I could go on.

The other part of me wants to buy an old fixer-upper. Ok, not too old, because it seems like all-electric old homes are hard to find (the expense is worth the peace of mind – I don’t want to blow up simply because I want “more even cooking” and cheaper utilities). I’d probably prefer an older house, because the new ones they build all have garages that overpower the house and teeny kitchens. I do not do well in teeny kitchens.

Fixing up this one has been a little stressful, mostly because of my gluten challenge and the fact that we’re having a lovely, hot, humid summer (humidity makes me cranky). But in a location that we both like, in a house that we get to keep so we can paint it any color we want, I think it would be a lot of fun. We have learned a LOT improving this house. First order of business would be to find a place that sells discount window blinds, because the faux wood actually keeps your house a lot cooler than the heat-conducting aluminum blinds. And because the cats like to tear up the cheap blinds not made of PVC (or wood), etc. After that, I want to paint. I will have a red room and a clay blue room – and we will be using the beiges that we used in this house… they’ve turned out really well.

Look at me, home improving an imaginary house. That’s because I’m stone-cold crazy.

I should have pictures up soon of the inside of the house. I have to clean up before I post anything, though. :)

Well, not completely, I still have to hang up all the ones that we took down for painting, and I have to get a curtain rod for the curtains in the den. But I finally bought the last of the curtains yesterday (the ones for the den). They’re kinda masculinish (new word!) in color, but they’re sheers, so they’re not too manly. They’re tan, navy, green (kind of a dark chartreuse), and cream (or white, I don’t remember which, and it would just be too much for me to get up and look). I think they’ll go great with the clay blue walls.

Thing is, when we leave, I want to take all the curtains with us. None of them are custom drapes, and they’re all panels (except the valances in the kitchen, which I don’t mind leaving behind), so I think we’ll just tell the lookers that we’ll leave the curtain rods (unless they don’t want them) but take the curtains. That’s ok, right?

SARAHK: Ooh! Something keeps flying over my head!
FRANK J.: Is it a Minerva?
SARAHK: No. I think it’s a flying carpenter ant. Ooh. You know, I saw one outside Walgreens today.
FRANK J.: That’s where they must be coming from.
SARAHK: Yes. They’re exporting them to our house. ::eye roll::
FRANK J.: But if it’s a Minerva, she’ll be like “Meow! Meow! Meow!” while she’s flying over your head.
SARAHK: You are so dumb.
FRANK J.: Maybe they had a sale on fire ants. Or a fire sale on ants!

Carpenter ants. Not fire ants. (Though they do bite me when I’m sleeping.)

I am not a video game player, but when the prices of the new generation of video game systems came out, I flat-out looked at Frank when I heard the price of the PS3 and said, “Nuh uh.” It’s good that he was already having the same thoughts. I had an X-box once upon a time (not the 360), and it was ok, but like I said, I don’t really play video games, so I was bored with everything except the hockey game.

Then they announced the Wii price (much more accommodating), and y’all know what happened… he bought that system eleven days before Christmas and paid almost the price of a PS3 (but he got six or seven games with it). We loooove the Wii. Yes, even I love it. When Frank was playing Zelda, I would just sit there mesmerized and watch him fish for hours.

Our widescreen is in storage right now, and there are a couple of games that I want to play, but we’re waiting until we get wherever it is we’re moving before we buy and play them. I definitely want to play the Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix game on the widescreen.

The only thing I wish Wii had that it doesn’t is a karaoke game. We have Karaoke Revolution, which works with Wii (we bought it for the gamecube), but we’ve mastered many of the songs. PS2 has an American Idol game — I’d love something like that for Wii. Frank says they’re working on a karaoke game for Wii… Yes, we’ll be getting that one.

Frank and I went to see Frank’s doctor a while back. I insisted on accompanying him, because Frank is one of those people who just says, “Yes, doctor, you’re the doctor, whatever you say, doctor. I trust you.” Me? Not so much. See my gluten bigot category for why. Frank was going to the doctor because 1) he was going gluten-free with me, because that makes life around here a lot simpler. No, I did not ask him to do this; he is just that wonderful, and he told me a couple of weeks before my test that he was going to do it. Made the decision all on his own–I told y’all I was married to Mr. Wonderful. This way I won’t have to worry about him glutening me through a kiss, or eating something glutenous with his hands, then sticking his hands in my bag of chips without thinking about it and contaminating the whole bag of chips. Stuff like that. It’s crazy the ways I can get sick on gluten, and how teeny amounts can hurt me in significant ways. And not just for a day. For the future. 2) During my gluten challenge, Frank was eating exactly what I was been eating. Glutenous foods full of gluten, gluten, and more gluten. Pizza, soy sauce, bread containing wheat flour, glutenous ice cream (like Chubby Hubby), na’an, Nacho Cheese Doritos, etc. And get this. He had some gastric symptoms; his acne got a lot worse, just like mine did (and when we were gluten-free for three months December to February, and the only gluten he had was the sandwich and Doritos I sent him for lunch, his acne was so much better); he had heartburn, and one night it was so bad that it kept him up until 3 a.m.; he had fatigue on the days that I had fatigue; his unexplained blistery rash on his hands was back (it’s not DH, the rash associated with celiac, but it is a form of eczema for which doctors have found no cause. No cause? Get back to me after you know what’s going on, docs, and quit screwing around.). And when we got to the doctor’s office for the appointment, guess what we found out? While I was gaining twelve pounds on the three-month gluten challenge? Frank was losing ten! Eating a bunch of fluorescent orange mac-n-cheese! And then Frank said, “Oh yeah. I’ve never been able to gain weight, ever, until you were cooking gluten-free dinners all the time when you were gluten-free during those three months before. And I gained all that weight when you were losing 12 pounds.” Uhhhh. Can’t believe I didn’t pick up on it, but then again, I was a little preoccupied with how awesome I was feeling off gluten and how awful I felt on gluten.

Alright. So I made the case for the doctor to test Frank for celiac, all written out nice and pretty, just in case he’s one of those boneheads like Dr. Ego who won’t test you for anything unless he comes up with it first because he needs to feel important.

And of course, Frank started off things by saying, “My wife has celiac, so I want to get tested for it.” And he left off the part that he had practiced on his own in the car, because it was early and he was tired and going on one only one cup of coffee, the part where he was going to say, “I understand that her having it has no bearing on whether I would have it.” So I just took over. I mean, come on. The doctor was already looking at us like we were stu.pid. I would have been, too. Like he could catch celiac from me through sex. Good thing we didn’t tell him my test results weren’t even in yet. And seriously, the doctor had already taken that one statement as license to treat us like just any ol’ stupid patient who will buy anything you want to sell them off the back of the discount doctor wagon. Or maybe he truly knows nothing about celiac, because he tried to feed us a load of watery diarrhea later about it, so I’m kinda inclined to believe that he knows pretty much nothing about it except that some people get diarrhea from it.

Anyway, after Frank’s statement that he wants to get tested because I have celiac, I told the doctor, “here’s why we want him to get tested. He’s going gluten-free anyway, he has a history of autoimmunes all over his family [and I had listed every single one of them for him], while I was on the gluten challenge and he was eating the same foods I was eating, he had a lot of the same symptoms I did [he probably has no idea what a gluten challenge is, now that I think of it], and while I was gaining twelve pounds gluten-loading, he was losing at least ten.” By the time I got to “autoimmunes,” he had stopped listening, because I had handed him the piece of paper.

“Is this something you looked up on the internet?”

Attention doctors: Y’all just have no idea how patronizing and infuriating this statement is. Well, you probably do, and you say things like this anyway, just to assert that you’re the doctors and we’re the patients. And the thing is, he seemed like a cluelessly nice doctor. Just completely clueless about pretty much everything except coughs and runny noses. But the whole did I look it up on the internet thing? I wanted to punch him. It was so hard for me to keep my voice calm. “No, this isn’t something I looked up on the internet. I’ve been studying the disease for about seven months.” But I am glad he asked me the internet thing before the next part.

“Well, it looks like we should be testing you for Lupus. Do you want me to test you for that?” Ok, so Frank has a second-degree family member with Lupus and a first-degree family member with Lupus antibodies but no Lupus, but he also has very few Lupus symptoms. Other than the fatigue, which he didn’t have until the gluten challenge, and some muscle aches that are easily attributed to all that painting he’s been doing (I have muscle aches, but even I wasn’t saying that Frank’s were possibly a celiac symptom, since his are all in the shoulder area and tend to go away when there’s not a room to paint, hmm), there’s not much there in the way of Lupus. He has no RA, no joint pains, no kidney issues, no heart troubles, no lung problems, no persistent mouth ulcers, no eye problems, no fevers, no chills. He does have that vague symptom of dizziness about two or three times a year, but that is usually right after I’ve been acting crazy, which might stress him out a little, so Frank likes to chalk that one up to stress. He does have vague symptoms occasionally, I’ll give the doctor that one. And I’m never opposed to any bloodwork.

After the Lupus question, I said, “I don’t really know the symptoms of Lupus, but if you think you should test him for that, fine. As long as you’re also testing him for celiac.” At this, Frank said, “Yeah, I just want to make sure I’m tested for celiac. I’m probably going gluten-free anyway, so I just want to get the test before I change the diet.” The doctor probably doesn’t know the arguments for getting tested before changing the diet. There are lots against, of course, but lots for. Most doctors seem to think that you should get the tests before. And actually, last November, I could have told you anything you wanted to know about Lupus, and in the doctor’s office Tuesday, I was just sitting there thinking, I can’t remember all that stuff I used to know about Lupus, but I do know enough about it to understand that a lot of organ systems would be affected, at least after the disease progresses. Even when he has the flu about once a year, it’s gone within a couple of days.

Ok, so Frank jumped onto the doctor table where they listen to all your organs and make sure you’re breathing, and the doctor said jovially (it was good I was a couple feet away), “Well, unless you get explosive, watery diarrhea right after you eat a Quizno’s sub, you probably don’t have celiac, but I’ll test you for it.” DANGEROUS DOCTOR! I made eye contact and made sure that my eyes had a death grip on his eyes. “Actually, a lot of celiacs have no gastric symptoms at all. That is a huge misconception.” And I wanted to tell him that more than 50% of celiacs have no gastric symptoms, but I didn’t want to give him that figure and be wrong about it, so I just went with “a lot.” I hate it when I have to educate doctors, but Dr. Arrogant broke me of that doctors-are-gods creed we all grew up on, and I ain’t nevah lookin’ back.

I was HOT. What if that had been some patient who read something or heard something about celiac and thought, “Maybe that’s me. Maybe that’s the source of my misery.” And Dr. Can’t Tie His Own Shoes is telling her that she has to have explosive, watery diarrhea or she probably doesn’t have celiac? This is why it takes an average of nine years for a celiac diagnosis (sometimes I even hear eleven). NINE. Because dangerous doctors like this guy are out there, and their patients leave with their IBS diagnoses (heavy on the BS) or their “you just have the flu” pep talks and go on their sad, miserable ways. And then three more years pass by, because after all, doctor knows best, and if he says I don’t have it, I don’t have it, but finally, one day, she eats a Quizno’s sub on rye and drinks a Braum’s malt along with it, and while she’s at it, she has bread pudding for dessert. And then she finally has the explosive, watery diarrhea and feels maybe brave enough to go present her case to the doctor again. “But doctor, I got the explosion. I got the water. Out my butt. All there. Whaddaya think?” Even worse, what if it’s someone who’s never heard of the disease, and she just has a bunch of vague symptoms, and there’s Dr. You Have The Flu giving her meds for IBS. BTW, I used to get really ticked off when I would see those bloaty stomach commercials for IBS (yes, I’m quite happy that Zelnorm is off the market). Really ticked off. I mean, a lot of doctors, I’m sure, because I have experience with a lot of dumb doctors, probably just call it IBS and give them the med from the commercial. Here, have a pill! Who cares what’s causing your IBS? As long as we can cover it up! Bandaids are awesome!

From the Celiac Disease Center at Columbia:

The vast majority of individuals with celiac disease have little in the way of gastrointestinal symptoms or have symptoms that may receive a diagnosis of irritable bowel syndrome. While the classical symptoms include diarrhea, weight loss and edema, other patients may present with constipation, anemia, bone pain or bone loss, chronic fatigue, skin problems, abnormal liver chemistries, dental enamel defects and neurological symptoms such as peripheral neuropathy, ataxia or seizures. Some patients with celiac disease are truly asymptomatic or have symptoms related to an associated autoimmune problem.

Anyway, once the doctor decided Frank was breathing and had a heartbeat, he started to write down all the bloodwork he would send Frank for. When he mentioned the celiac test, I threw in, “Do you want to go ahead and send him for the DQ2/DQ8 test while you’re at?” Hey, why not, right? He said, “The what?” Haha. He deserved it. I know that’s gastro territory, but I was mad at him for prolonging celiac diagnoses in unsuspecting individuals. “It’s the genetic marker test for celiac disease.” Not that I have faith in our blood labs around here, but why not. “Oh, ok, sure. What is it again? That’s really gastroenterologist territory [yep] but sure, let’s just send him for everything.” I think Frank was still in the room. Don’t worry, y’all. Before we went to the appointment, I had asked if I could go with him. I also said, “And can I get obstinate in my SarahK kind of way?” “Sure, Sweetie.” “Because you know you’re never gonna see him again anyway, since we’re moving and all that.” “Okay.” I beat him down, I know.

The doc did send him for all the bloodwork, and it all came back normal… However, considering that his symptoms have all but gone away on the GF diet (except for some problems that seem to pop up after he eats soy — we’re testing that one now), and considering that serologic tests are for crap at most blood labs around the country, I think it’s wonderful that he decided (all on his own) to go off gluten when I did. I’m not gonna lie, it’s awesome knowing that there’s very little chance the food he eats will make me sick (I get sick from eating non-glutenous products made in a facility that also processes wheat, I’m that sensitive), he seems to be getting healthier along with me.

In short, I’m glad I went with him to his appointment. And I’m glad I got to school a doctor. Doctors need schooling.

Yes, I’m obsessed with books lately (how did you know?). Any novel that can make people, places, and things come alive for me is probably gripping enough to be called a great novel. At least for me.

As y’all know, I get a little obsessive over the Tatiana and Alexander books. The final book in the trilogy, The Summer Garden, starts out in Deer Isle, Maine. I don’t want to give anything away, because that would ruin the suspense for you. :) But I’ll say that reading The Summer Garden has made me interested in going to Deer Isle myself. Maybe stay at a little Maine bed and breakfast with my sweetie, eat lobster fresh from the docks all the time… I wonder if Paullina Simons has actually been to Deer Isle, or if she just picked it off the map. Everything she writes about is so vivid that I always feel like I’m there… but I still want to visit the places just to see for myself.

• Well, maggie katzen and RTO had a little bit of trouble with airport security… I know how you feel, mk. Except I got escorted from security and had to get a new flight, take an unpaid day off, etc. I did get kiss-up jewelry, though.
• Why conservatives (and non-Communists) don’t like Hillary Clinton (prof. in link and comments).
• Oh, hail.
• Freshly home from a third world country! Go say hi!

11 See with what large letters I have written to you with my own hand!
12 As many as desire to make a good showing in the flesh, these would compel you to be circumcised, only that they may not suffer persecution for the cross of Christ.
13 For not even those who are circumcised keep the law, but they desire to have you circumcised that they may boast in your flesh.
14 But God forbid that I should boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.
15 For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision avails anything, but a new creation.

Frank J. gets up to go get himself some coffee, but it’s all for effect. I am on to him. I know what he’s doing.

FRANK J.: Oh. I don’t has coffee.
SARAHK: And you don’t know how to make it?
FRANK J.: I know how to make my wife make it.
SARAHK: 8-O
FRANK J.:
SARAHK: Not today. You make it yourself.
FRANK J. [with his cute face on]: Please, pretty wife, will you make me coffee?
SARAHK: Nope.
FRANK J.: Please? You’re so pretty.
SARAHK: I will only make your coffee if you understand that you are not making me make your coffee.
FRANK J.: I understand.
SARAHK: Do you understand?
FRANK J.: Yes. I can has coffee?
SARAHK: Fine. But only because you asked, not because you’re making me.
FRANK J.: K thx.