fuck or treat

My kids will always remember this as the year I put a “Fuck or Treat” sign on our front porch. 🙄🤣 “Help yourself!”

It was nice to have Halloween on a Saturday for once. We made and decorated cupcakes, and Tim set up a candy scavenger hunt in lieu of trick or treating.

The kids dressed up, but I forgot to take photos. They raided our costume collection and made do with some old robes to become an imp (Gwen) and a devil (Ellie). After the festivities, we settled in to play Animal Crossing and watch Beetlegeuse.

And now it’s November, and the election is upon us. It’s been a wild few months, and I’m ready for the year to end. Work is busier than usual, school is A Lot, and political anxiety is a thing. The holidays are coming up, and while it will be nice to have a break, I’m missing my non-immediate family and wishing we could see them over more than a Zoom call.

And then there’s the pandemic, always looming. Cases are on the rise again. We continue to do our part by going out as little as possible and masking up when we do. The kids are managing remote learning OK, although it’s not their favorite thing, it’s definitely more structured than it was last spring. It’s put a lot of pressure on Tim, but we’re lucky he’s able to focus primarily on school; I don’t know how we’d manage if he had a full-time job, too.

I signed off Twitter and Facebook for a bit, mostly because they’re a time-suck, partly because politics are draining enough without having to-the-second updates about what idiotic thing our president has said, and partly because I watched The Social Dilemma and I’m tired of being a slave to the almighty notification bell. I check in once a week to see if anyone has messaged me, and I’m still posting to Instagram, but I’ve noticed my work days are much more productive. (The irony of my working for a social media company is not lost on me.)

Apparently it’s been over two months since I posted anything, so here’s a gallery of goings-on since September.

memia anemia

For all the work I’ve done to accept my body as it is, and to try to treat myself with kindness, it’s tough not to internalize and feel guilty when my body isn’t operating at its best.

Pumping iron

I noticed I was feeling really run down during my last trip. Actually, if I think about it, I’ve been feeling kind of run down for a while. It’s little stuff; feeling lightheaded if I bend over to pick up something off the floor, feeling dizzy if I stand up too fast, lack of stamina for exercise longer than 10-15 minutes at a stretch, and sleeping ’til 9:30 am and *still* feeling like I could take a nap at lunch.

But…I’m fat. If I’m lightheaded, if my heart is racing, if I’m tired, it’s easy to fall back on the standard explanation: “I’m just really out of shape. If I weren’t so lazy, I’d feel better.” (Ouch, right?)

Then a colleague and I took a short walk (less than half a mile) around downtown Nassau, and I thought I was going to be sick from exertion; my heart rate was in the 150’s after climbing a relatively small hill. I had to stop to rest multiple times.

I blamed it on the heat and a full stomach, but that explanation didn’t sit well with me. I pride myself on being able to keep up with my colleagues, despite my size. Lisbon was all stairs, for example, and I made it up some pretty epic flights without feeling like I was going to puke.

The Paleness

When I got home, I mentioned these episodes to Tim, and he pointed out that I’ve had issues with anemia in the past (I even take a daily iron supplement). Maybe I should get my blood checked?

Insert light bulb moment.

Yep, it’s iron deficiency anemia (IDA), and it’s kicking my ass. My hemoglobin is half what it should be (I’m .2 points shy of requiring a blood transfusion), and basically everything related to red blood cell production is low. I started iron infusion therapy this week, and I’m told it will probably be a couple weeks before I start to feel better.

Hindsight being what it is, I see all sorts of red flags now. I’m incredibly pale, my fingernails are curving up at the edges, and I have the olfactory equivalent of pica — I crave strong chemical smells (I have a bottle of camphor essential oil that I sniff every once in a while to take the edge off). IDA is pretty bizarre!

But I was quick to blame myself as my symptoms escalated, even though it was clear to a third party that I needed medical help. Is that something born out of my touch-and-go relationship to my body, or is that just the kind of thing we humans do to make sense of the chaos?

It’s probably both. In any case, I’m hopeful a couple rounds of IV iron will help me feel better soon. In the meantime, I’ll be working from the couch and catching up on all the TV I missed when I was mobile. Shrill on Hulu is my new favorite thing.

The X-Files, Season 11, Episode 1

xfiles
They’re baaaaaaa-aaaack…

Oh hey, it’s that time again! The time where I watch The X-Files and rant about how Chris Carter shouldn’t have been allowed near the writer’s room again. Here we goooooooo…

Spoilers under the cut!

Continue reading “The X-Files, Season 11, Episode 1”