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Saturday, January 31, 2015

My Defenses Are Down, So Why Not?

Four weeks.  Four continuous weeks of bleeding from this miscarriage, and I am POOPED.  Job interview after job interview, and not even the courtesy of letting me know if someone else was selected.  Complete dissatisfaction with the low paying coding job I took just for experience.   Teenagers.  A chihuahua who insists on peeing in my old office.  Ugh, what else could happen?

How about the flu?

Sure, let's do that.  At least I didn't have to miss work, right?

On Tuesday of this past week, I had a very promising interview at a local hospital for a coding position.  I had taken a coding exam at the very location the Wednesday before, and since they called me in for an interview so quickly, I was assuming I had passed the exam (I did!).  It was one of the most intense interviews I have ever done.  One, I had a half hour interview with the manager (we're both from New York!).  Then a half hour interview with the entire coding staff where they pegged me with questions.  Some were normal like, "What is your certification?" and "Where did you work before?" and others weird: "In order to work here, you have to bake, because we eat a lot.  What's your favorite pastry?" Then ANOTHER half hour interview with the director who was easily ten to fifteen years younger than me.  During the interviews, I started feeling lightheaded and woozy, and assumed it was due to nerves.  I pushed on of course, because I knew right away I was in a good place.  It met many of my requirements:  offered benefits, was less than 50  miles from my house, offered ICD10 training, and not being self employed.  I got there at 7:30, and left around 9:40.  Very good!  I called my husband on the way home (I have bluetooth, it's all good) and he said, "You sound funny."  I mentioned that I was feeling lightheaded (probably not a good thing to tell your husband when you're driving!) and that my throat felt scratchy.  He suggested I pull into a convenience store and grab a cup of coffee for my throat and that I might just be catching a little cold.  I agreed.  It's January, it happens.  I was home in less than an hour, and immediately changed into my pajamas and started back at the poorly paying coding job.

Oh peeps.  It went downhill from there.  My throat went from "scratchy" to "razor blade soup."  I started coughing so hard I lost control of my bladder.  My head was pounding.  I started sweating profusely.  I took my temperature.  99.5.  Okay, that's not horrible.  I decided to finish my chart and take a nap.  It got progressively worse from there.

By dinner time, I was sporting a 102 fever.  I can't believe how fast this came on.  I ended up calling an office that I had another interview for the next day, and canceled because I knew I'd be unable to drive like this.  I slept most of the day Wednesday, although not well because I kept sneezing and coughing myself awake.  I kept tabs on my temp, always right around 102.  I took steam showers to clear my throat, essential oils to open my sinuses,  I would sometimes wake up simply because my back hurt from laying down so much.  By Wednesday night, I was texting people to ask if they'd come over to shoot me in the head.  My fever spiked either late Wednesday night or early Thursday morning, at 103.8.  Yet, I was freezing.  I wore my pajamas, socks, a tank top, a sweater, and two thick blankets, and I was shivering like I was outside in a blizzard.  Then, as suddenly as it came, it left.  I woke up Thursday morning around 8am with my fever at 100.5.  Even though I was still feverish, I felt better.  Then I realized I hadn't eaten in two days, and as a diabetic, that was not at all safe.  My sugar was only 65.  Ouch.  I made toast even though it's all carbs, Propped myself up and did another chart, and checked a million emails.

My husband sent me a text asking how I felt.  I sent him this:

Are you a Walking Dead fan?  I am NOT.

So here I am now, Saturday morning.  My husband is home unexpectedly for the weekend.  I just checked my temperature again, 98.6!  Woo hoo, it's the only possible way I could ever be normal.  And I guess it wasn't obvious that I was about to get horribly sick at my big ol interview, because I got another email from the facility asking me to come in for second interview on Wednesday, which I of course accepted.  I've pretty much learned that when one is asked to come in for a second interview, it's usually to hammer out final details and that you've been chosen for the position.  I found this article online about second interviews, and decided to post it here for you to peruse:

http://career-advice.monster.com/job-interview/interview-preparation/what-to-expect-at-second-interview/article.aspx

One thing I liked about the article was the suggestion of having me (the candidate) ask why the company is so special, and for them to give me pros and cons about working there.  I think that's great, and not something I thought of initially during my first interview.  At most interviews, I'm usually more concerned about meeting their needs and praying it coincides with my skills.  Now that they've decided my skills do meet their need (as evidenced by the second interview request) it's almost like I get to interview them.  This is really important to me, because I spent a week at a temp job hating it profusely, thirteen years at a job where I felt unfulfilled, and I want my next placement to be right.  I will be 40 years old in May.  I truly want this to be the last place I work before I retire (if I ever get to retire) or unless we do something like move out of state, which I don't ever see happening.

My husband and I were chatting this morning while he showered, and that both of us can't believe it has taken me almost 6 months to get a real job after losing mine in August.  I think it just shows what a terrible economy we're in right now.  I seriously don't see how someone with my experience and certification could have this much trouble finding a real job.  I feel so bad for people who don't have an amazing partner in life like I do, to help them during down times.  I'm very blessed, I know.  It's going to take us a while to build up our savings again,  I need to see a doctor for my blood pressure, all three kids need to see the doctor for various issues (Missy needs to see the GYN, Tiger needs to see the colon rectal surgeon, poor Bucket is suffering from terrible insomnia) and everyone needs the dentist, plus I haven't had new eyeglasses in almost five years.  I'm really just ready to move on, build up our savings account, get new glasses, and have a more normal semblance of life again.

I absolutely would be okay if I never went back to work again, and stayed home to take care of our home and children.  I would NOT be okay if my husband was working 80+ hours a week to do it.  Our marriage is a partnership, and we're here to help each other.  Hopefully this coding position will be mine and I can let go of all these part time "jobs"  I've had which have paid almost nothing and get us back on the fast track to financial prosperity.

Monday, January 26, 2015

Not 100%, But Getting Closer Every Day

This is the miscarriage that won't end.  I am *still* bleeding, and not just spotting either.  If I had health insurance, I would have already gone to get a D&C, but they don't just hand those out to people walking into hospitals, so I continue to suffer.  At least I'm not having abdominal pain anymore, I would just like to regain my energy.  Bleeding for three weeks straight is no bueno.

But I persist, I carry on.  My husband insisted that I go buy new bras because I was clearly sagging in my old bras.  I went to Lane Bryant wearing my two year old LB bra, which was a 44C.  I got re-measured at a 40DD.  Here's what happened:  in one year, I lost four inches around my rib cage!  And my girls didn't shrink!  Good news!  I love my new bras, I almost feel like my posture is better and my girls have moved back to the northern region where they belong.  I also found this interesting Lane Bryant top for only $20.  I bought it, and then realized even their smallest top at size 14/16 is really too big for me, so I can't wear to the office like I had intended.  It keeps falling off my shoulders.  But it's fine for church and for going to the beach!

It was a gloriously beautiful Sunday morning.  I know I say it every year, but January is just one of my favorite months here in Florida.  The sun shines, it's not blistering hot, you can open doors and windows during the day and not get eaten alive by mosquitoes.  Bliss, I tell you!

This hair.  It makes me want to say bad words.

The sleeves are called dolman.  They look strange on a hanger but do great things for me.  Plus the tummy area is ruched so it slims me down immensely.  I even love this intense pink magenta color, and it has stones on the collar, so no need for a necklace.  

The skirt is an XL in straight sizes from Target and I'm wearing Target flats in silver that you can't see.  This hair.  It is at the point where I now have to pull it up again in order to see or to make it look decent.  It actually makes me angry.  I am dying to pixie it again, but my husband insists that I look much better with longer hair.  I know he wouldn't lie to me, so long hair is so much work here in the south.  I already dread summer where I am going to be working with the dreaded ponytail and bun again.

After church, I went home, did some Jamberry stuff online, then went to the beach with my friend Natalie.


This is right at sunset.  We did three miles of walking on the beach just talking.  It was nice.  I shared my faith with her (she asked!) and we admired the sunset and the fresh air.  It was a good weekend, for sure.

Poor, Poor Puppy.

On Mondays, I drive to the life insurance place and do cold calling for appointments.  I still haven't made the dive into being an agent.  Not sure if it's right for me.  But the place is very friendly, I'm keeping up on my phone skills, and making a bit of pocket money.  But while I'm at the office, somepuppy misses me very much.

I'm so sorry that I was gone ALL DAY.  But I'm home now, it's okay.  We can cuddle.  (her face...oh my goodness it melts my heart.  The dog, not me.)

This is her laying in my lap on my bed.

Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled puppy!