Monthly Archives: December 2011

As I’ve mentioned frequently on twitter, I have achilles tendinitis. I’ve been battling with tendinitis all over my body for about two years after being poisoned by ciprofloxacin. I had a UTI that was resistant to the first antibiotic that I tried, so I had to be put on cipro when it turned into a kidney infection. Ouch.

After two years of high doses of ant-inflammatories  and an anti-inflammatory diet (3000mg fish oil/day, high doses of ibuprofen and vitamin C, less than 50g of carbs per day), the tendinitis was gone from my elbows, wrists and the arches of my feet. I had a nagging bit of it left in my left ankle but it no longer interfered with my day-to-day life.

…enter baby.

I’ve had to add carbs back into my diet, ibuprofen is a big no-no, and I’m taking 1/10th of the fish oil I was taking before. Combine that with extra fluid from pregnancy and my ankle is now worse than it’s ever been. I’ve been to my orthopedist who said to anticipate it getting worse throughout pregnancy. Sigh. I now have physical therapy orders, a frightening grinding/popping sound coming from my ankle, and this lovely walking cast:

Thanks to the ankle, I will probably be leaving work in April, May at the latest. I have no idea what I will do from then until July! My ankle will be grateful for the break though, and I’m sure my back will be quite pleased with that arrangement by then as well.

I also got this really sweet parking placard out of the deal. I cannot even begin to describe how much of a lifesaver this thing is in San Francisco! So, thanks for that, baby.

If you read this entry, you may be wondering what’s up with Nonnie. I’m happy to report that her stubborn Italian-ness has pulled her through once again. This is the second time in about ten years that doctors have told us she’s on her deathbed, and the second time she has swiftly surpassed all expectations.

Nonnie was released to a rehab facility where she stayed for a little while to regain strength and undergo physical therapy. For awhile, we thought she may be there longterm. She  met and exceeded all of their goals for her though and was released around Christmas. Unfortunately she’s in a retirement home rather than her home, but that’s due to family drama rather than poor health. It seems that in difficult times, people really do show their true colors, but let’s leave that drama aside for now. The important thing is that Nonnie’s alive and well and pushing toward 100. We’ll all do our best to make sure that wherever she is, it feels like home.

Step one: Apply for Healthy San Francisco. Get rejected due to being pregnant.

Step two: Apply for Medi-Cal. Get rejected based on income. Be told to apply for Healthy San Francisco.

Step three: Call to make Healthy San Francisco enrollment appointment. Be told that you don’t qualify for Healthy San Francisco because you’re pregnant. Mention Medi-Cal told you to apply for HSF because your income disqualifies you for Medi-Cal. Be told Medi-Cal is full of crap and you should have immediately qualified for “shared cost” Med-Cal due to being pregnant. Have appointment made anyway because you sound desperate and near tears and the receptionist pities you.

Step four: Call Medi-Cal caseworker and get busted voicemail. Hang up phone, cry.

Someone needs to explain to my fetus that whiskey sours are an inappropriate craving. S/he seems to be in a perpetual state of 3am, post-club. All I’ve been craving is greasy junk food and whiskey sours. It’s like I’m 23 again but without any of the other joys of being 23. And of course, no whiskey sours…and I’m at work, not outside of a nightclub in the ass-crack of San Francisco.

All of the extra sour lemonade in the wooooorld is not alleviating this one. It’s been a week and a half now and I still think of them daily. I don’t even like whiskey sours. Seriously, Belly Monster? That’s how it is? It’s going to be a long trip to July.

My plan has been to wait until Christmas to tell my family. Through a series of unfortunate events, everyone now knows!

My grandmother had a very bad accident happen right before Thanksgiving. When she was due to be released to a rehab facility, they found internal bleeding so she’s still hospitalized. She’s 91 (92? I’m a bad granddaughter) years old and was told she could either choose to die or have surgery with a 50/50 chance of success. She chose the surgery and is now waiting awhile for the bleeding to slow down. In the meantime, the family is saying their goodbyes just in case.

I live in San Francisco, she lives in Virginia. I can’t make the trip right now so I decided I’d call and say my goodbyes and tell her about the baby. We have a big family though and people are always there, so I had to call my dad first and tell him so that he could get her alone in the room.

That was my first mistake – I didn’t know I was on speaker phone, so now his wife knows.

My mom has known for a couple of weeks, so I called to let her know that I told Nonnie, dad, and accidentally told step-mom. Mistake number two! She emailed me to ask how it went but she accidentally replied-all to an email that was sent to me AND my three siblings (it’s ok, Mom! I’m not mad!).

She recalled the email but it still had gone through to me and had all of their emails on it. I assumed it went to them as well so I called so they could hear it from me rather than email.

While on the phone with my sister Erika, I got a text from my brother Aaron that said “STOP!” – apparently they HAD been recalled and only me and Aaron had gotten it because our mail apps were open. It was too late though – I’d already told Erika!

My other brother Johnny, who hadn’t gotten the email, called me while I was on the phone with Erika. I put her on hold and then merged the calls. She thought I must’ve told him in the FIVE SECONDS it took to merge the call, so when she heard him say “hi” she shouted “WE’RE GOING TO BE AN AUNT AND UNCLE!”

I hadn’t told Johnny yet though and he thought it was me saying that (Erika and I sound the same on the phone) and thought Aaron had gotten HIS girlfriend pregnant, so the next five minutes were spent backpedaling and explaining.

So now my dad, mom, step-mom, Nonnie, sister, and both brothers know almost a month ahead of time. I feel weird and exposed and anxious about the whole ordeal. I really wanted to do this in my own time. I’m glad my Nonnie knows in case something happens, and it is nice for the family to have some good news during this hard time.