Thursday, May 15, 2008

...Sick of Myself...

Well, I've definitely been having a rough time of it these past few weeks. Work has been very difficult, as our new assistant and I clash on a daily basis. Dave quit his job last weekend, and is now working for me full time. He and I have had a couple of issues in the past few weeks, but it's going pretty well. My boss and I prepped for a couple of weeks for an intense third-party audit, only to have so many issues that we decided to postpone it for five weeks, extending the stress. I actually broke down crying in front of my boss yesterday morning, unable to handle the pressure and tension. I go to bed every night dreading the next day, and end up lying awake for hours. Overall, I'm completely exhausted, and completely depressed.

The stress has had other side effects, as well. I've been unable to get myself to soccer practice at all over the past three weeks. I've gone to the games, at least, but it's been difficult to keep from being perpetually negative and even snapping at other players and the coach. Tonight is just one more example; I didn't feel like dealing with the competitive social aspect of playing, something I used to enjoy. However, I must be feeling a bit better, since I finally got out for a bike ride a little while ago. Actually, the main reason I went out was weighing myself at work this afternoon: 145 lbs. Ugh. I really haven't been eating much, so I was quite surprised by the gain, despite the lack of exercise. I've been seriously considering beginning to take some kind of weight loss pill for help, but I have a lot more research to do.

At least some progress has been made on the wedding front. I was up in the Catskills last weekend with Mom, Dad, Pete, and Jen, (and Orion, Casey, and Indiana) and was able to get over to the country club to hand in the signed contract and a deposit. I was not satisfied with the way the final contract was written, but it was sufficient. The wedding coordinator is completely unhelpful and scatterbrained, though very friendly and nice. I'm supposed to be headed up there again this weekend to meet with a florist, though Dave is going to be in Atlantic City for a friend's bachelor party. Dave has also finally been in contact with a photographer, who has 4 October free, so hopefully we will get to meet with her in the near future.

I finally had an appointment with a doctor this morning regarding my right wrist and hand. The initial injury was over thirteen years ago, during freshman year of high school, and stemmed from playing softball constantly. At that time, the doctor we visited took an x-ray and said that it looked fine, and therefore was just a sprain that would go away with time and rest. He gave me a wrist brace, which I still wear when the pain gets to be too much. As time has passed, it's grown worse and worse, and I've been forced to learn to use my left hand for nearly everything, including writing. At this point, I have constant pain in my wrist and certain fingers, as well as swelling around my thumb, and numbness between some fingers. Anyway, the doctor today was recommended to me by my boss, after he recently had surgery done on his hands. He's supposed to be the best of the best, when it comes to hands. I went in and tried to explain the situation, but he rushed through the exam. Then he took an x-ray of my wrist, but not my hand, and quickly gave me his diagnosis: overuse. His plan of attack was an anti-inflammatory for two weeks and occupational therapy, as well as wearing a wrist brace and "using common sense and not doing whatever things make it hurt." He expressed the belief that this would go away on it's own, if I would just do stretching exercises in the morning. He basically implied that I was lazy, out of shape, and a wimp, and I should just suck it up. He kept talking about housework, as if, as a woman in my late twenties, that was all of the stress I could possibly be putting on my wrist. When I pressed on, saying that this had been going on for a very long time, and I would prefer further investigation, he reluctantly agreed to prescribe an MRI. However, he then 'forgot' to tell the nurse about that prescription, so I didn't receive it. The official diagnosis on the chart was tendinitis of the right wrist, which does nothing to explain the swelling or numbness in my hand. I'm about as disappointed as it gets; I went into this thinking that I was finally doing something about a debilitating and extremely painful situation, and he couldn't even take the time to have a hand x-ray done as well.