Boo-Ya!

So so much I want to post lately. I think foremost on my mind is the whole crap with the Navy hospitals. It has been a couple years now that they are either dismissing my symptoms ("complaints") or treating each one individually with medication or kegels. Bastards. Anyway, it isn't often that I complain about this stuff, well publicly anyway. So, finally after getting an annual appointment, the doc would only hear three of my symptoms after I told her I had a long list. She was interested about what the docs said when they did a complete psych eval (yes, that's psychological evaluation) for my fatigue, which was that I was a little sensitive about normal tiredness. Any stupid ass such as myself knows what that means: "She's a hypochondriac." Soooo. The doc said I should get more exercise. (Please, I do more than she does in her dreams.) I expected this, so spent a few months trying to diagnose myself, and came up with perimenopause. Therefore, before I get shoved out the door at the docs, I ask her for the test. She gets wide-eyed, obliges, and tries to leave. To make a long story short, she calls back the very next day, with a totally different tone. She says I have something called Premature Ovarian Failure. Now, I could care less that I can't have more kids, or that my periods stop (oh darnit!), but apparently she says there is some cause for concern that it may be cause by something called Addison's disease. The fact that she did not know any of my other symptoms, this does pique my interest; apparently the blood workup told her more than just one things. I went back for more tests yesterday, and hope to hear back. Addison's looks pretty bad. Not that it is terminal, but it is potentially fatal - one more reason to start being a better blogger.
It looks like Mark is in the running to go to Iraq. For a year. He may get as little as two weeks notice before they ship him off. I am glad that he will be in the air rather than on the ground, and usually a lot higher than they can launch their molotov cocktails, but it sucks. For a freaking year. The good thing is that we are already scheduled to go to Seattle in 10 months, and the closer we get to his PCS the less the chance of him leaving to go back to the Middle East. Pins and needles, we are on.
Isabel is doing better, but not growing a whole lot. She is still on one-year to 18 month size clothes and is almost 29 months now. She is incredibly coordinated and smart, though. She already conspires and loves to go to her mommy and tell on everyone: Hannah, Ruby, and even Papa. She is now climbing out of her crib and has to be watched like a hawk. The diagnosis on her vision is Intermittent Strabismus, different from amblyiopia, which I had, but she has to wear glasses and an eye patch like I did. She does fairly well with it on most days. Just so long as you don't try to outsmart her, she treats you just fine.
Hannah is still doing gangbusters in school, and her only B is in advanced math. She still wants to be a pediatrician and we hope that she will do okay with her transition to a new high school next holiday season. Better sooner than later. I suppose.