Want more? I'm gonna give it to you but please visit out new address www.thegreatberetbrigade.com. Hearts and kisses.

For Pictures Please See...

It's annoying to post pictures a thousand places. Perhaps someday in the distant future I will have time to email myself some pictures and then save them to this computer and then post them here. For now, please visit my facebook page- Jennifer Garner Silverstein (jlg830@gmail.com) or our YouTube channel http://www.youtube.com/user/jlg830?feature=mhum.

I Did Like Them After All

The period following the water breakage was even more boring than the period before and frankly, a lot more painful. Also, I was constantly leaking like leaky faucet. Gross. The feti wouldn't let me lay in more than one position without pushing in places that should never, never be pushed. Never. Also I started to itch like crazy, especially on my hands and feet but really just about everywhere. Some doc that I saw about once a week sent away for a blood test. He didn't even tell me what he was looking for and apparently didn't tell anyone else that he had ordered the test. Add to that the twice daily NSTs (go back and read up on that one) and you have a recipe for annoyance. I couldn't even crochet anymore because it hurt too much. Every day closer to 34 was exciting because I was sure that since I had made it this far I would keep limping along.

I went to bed on February 17th but couldn't sleep. I wasn't feeling more pain or more contractions or anything more than normal except that I had to poo like 5 times. I was up til 4am because I was just generally uncomfortable. Considering I was in pretty much a constant state of discomfort this wasn't exactly something to write home about. I had spent other sleepless nights and been able to sleep it off throughout the next day. Well, at about 5:15am, an hour or so after I had FINALLY fallen asleep, I woke up SOAKING wet. Like the entire bed was soaked. I got up cause what the heck else do you do. Just as I stood up the Nurse's Assistant came in. As I stand up there is TONS of fluid just rushing out of me. It sounded like someone was running a hose all over the ground. The Nursing Assistant says,

"Good Morning, how... What is leaking?"

I look at her with a sort of deer in the headlights look and said, "ME."

She told me to take a seat but I had to pee really bad so I told her I had to go to the bathroom. She went and got the nurse who, ironically, was Floater again. I had never had her before my first broken water night and then the next time I had her was this night. Ha. I went to the bathroom. Took everything off and put on a new gown cause seriously, you do NOT want to be hanging out in fluid-soaked clothes. It's so disgusting. At this point I still wasn't feeling any contractions or extra anything. Like the last time I got a rush of four or five nurses doing all kinds of who knows what in all parts of my body from shoulders to toes and EVERYTHING in between. It was clear that this water break was much more serious than the last one but I still didn't know what was going to happen so I called Eric. I'm pretty sure he was learning to love late night/early morning phone calls to come to the hospital immediately. The doc came in about 15 minutes later and examined me. I wasn't dilated, there were no baby heads popping out, things were good. As they are strapping me to the stretcher I started feeling some contractions. Mildly painful. The nurse asked if I felt a lot of pressure, like I had to poo. I said no more than normal. About 3 minutes after I said that I said, "Floater, you know that pressure you were asking about? I'm feeling it." In the 15 minute transport upstairs the contractions got worse and fast. We were back upstairs (my fave place) and already on all the monitors by 6:15. By this time I was bawling with every contraction. The nurse, who is still trying to set me up asked if the pain was worse than when Doctor 1 examined me. I told her yes, like 100 times worse as I started to be certain I was dying. She called the doctor and reported that "Mrs. Silverstein is very uncomfortable and reports that her contractions are ten times more painful than they were downstairs." Doctor 2 came in and examined me (the same doc who was surprised I kept eking along). Now, only about 30 minutes had elapsed between the exams. During the first exam I was not in labor. Not any more dilated, not having real contractions. Remember that. Also remember that usually labor is like hours long. Hours. I'm sure you know that many women are given drugs to help their labor get going because it takes SO long. Well, at exam 2, a mere 30 minutes after exam 1, I was significantly more dilated (I honestly don't remember how much, it didn't really matter at this point) and the top of a baby head was starting to come out of my vag. Doc immediately got on her little phone. "Hi. This is Lalalala. We have to deliver the triplets. Right now." Then a whole bunch of people came in and took Eric somewhere and wheeled me into an operating room where lots more people showed up. A very nice anesthesia tech told me everything that was happening and told me exactly what to do. (Remember how I wasn't allowed to take the tour because I was in the hospital? Well, this guy was a lifesaver). They tipped me over and shoved a needle in my spine. They lied and said I wouldn't feel pain, only pressure. Bull. That is so untrue. It hurt. I cried a little. That nice man held me. That is when all the pain went away. The contractions stopped, well I stopped feeling them anyway, and I just felt heavy. It was kindof lovely. Of course, as is my habit apparently, I was shaking like crazy so the nice man put an air filled warming blanket over my arms and shoulders. Don't worry, I was still cracking jokes and being sarcastic, which the asian man who replaced the nice man did NOT get at all. Anyway, the blanket made it hard to itch, which I had to do incessantly because of the medicine and my liver enzymes. Oh yeah, so you know that blood test they did 2 days before? Yeah, turns out my liver enzymes were like off the chart and making me itch like mad. Since that doctor hadn't told anyone that he ordered the test they didn't even realize that I had these crazy levels until they were preparing my info for the c-section. Awkward. Apparently, if you are just out on the street this is very dangerous for the fetus but since I was in the hospital and had only been itchy for a couple of days we were just fine.

Once they were ready to cut they let Eric in and had him sit by my head. I didn't feel anything but pulling and pressure and honestly with every baby they pulled out it was like a wave of relief on my body. It felt lighter and I could breathe better. I also heard all of them cry but the doctors wouldn't show them to me which made me angry.

So my water broke around 5:15 and by 7:17 and 7:18 they were all out. It was quite speedy.

After they put me back together again, which took longer than I expected, though it makes sense, I was wheeled to recovery. They kept telling me I'd be there an hour or two but four hours passed before I was allowed to even go look at my babies and then go down to post-partum. Baby A, Eloise Aideh who weighed 3 pounds 5 ounces, got wheeled past me in her isolette on her way to NICU while I was still in recovery. They let me look at her through the glass for like less than a minute. It wasn't exactly an ideal experience. After that long four hour stretch where the kept telling me to sleep but I just kept asking when I could see my babies, they wheeled me in a stretcher to the transitional nursery where baby B, Marie-Pierre Garner who weighed 3 pounds 7 ounces, and baby C, Annecy Campbell who weighed 3 pounds 5 ounces, were waiting for beds to open up in NICU. Happily, a very nice nurse took each of them off their CPAP (weird breathing tube that pushes air into their lungs to expand them) for about 4 or 5 minutes each so I could hold them. It was like awesome. I was literally astouded by how much I liked them. I am usually pretty reticent about liking people right off the bat but man, I took to these ladies quickly.

Pop! Goes The Weasel, No, The Water

In my ever thrilling stay at NYP, as the homies call it, I have had basically nothing happen. Well, that changed. Starting on February 15th I was leakin' some clear stuff outta "down there." It was not a ton but was way more stuff coming out than was normal. The doc had a look and was absolutely certain it was not amniotic fluid. In his defense he did a swab and it was negative. However, given certain creepy and gross events to be detailed momentarily, I can tell you without a doubt that it was absolutely amniotic fluid. There is a lot of stuff people don't mention about pregnancy and birth. Weird stuff constantly running out of every orifice is one of those things. So here is the creepy and gross part. At about 3am on the morning of February 17th I awoke to find my pad, underwear and pants soaked through with this mystery fluid. I called the nurse who was a floater from labor and delivery.

"Hey Floater [names have been changed to protect the innocent] um, do you think you could come here for just a sec?"

"Sure"

Click.

I went into the bathroom and changed my pad and undies and took off my pants. I made sure to leave it all on the sink for the nurse. You know nurses, it makes them feel special when you leave them little gifts like that. Crazy girls. I then sat on the side of my bed kindof in shock. Floater came in.

"Hey. So, a lot of fluid just came out of me and soaked through my pad and pants and stuff. It's on the sink"

"I'll be right back. We will put you on the monitor."

She came back with a swab and swabbed the pad. I watched. Its sort of a weird situation. I mean, yeah, I'm socially awkward but I don't think even the suavest of ladies would have known the appropriate thing to do.

"Okay. It is amniotic fluid. Let's get you on the monitors. Go lay down."

That's when the drama hit. Before I even got to the bed there were four or five nurses in there undressing me, putting IVs in, poking and prodding, getting a stretcher, calling the doctor, etc. This is when I got the shakes. Partly because I was naked (for a few minutes) and freezing and partly because it was a bit dramatic. I wasn't freaking out, not my style, and thankfully was still cracking jokes keepin those nurses laughing. I was shaking uncontrollably. It was seriously ridiculous.

This is where you need a little setting. To get into this section of the hospital you have to buzz or have a keycard to get through a locked security door because there are babies in there and apparently they keep those under tight lock and key. They don't want just anyone to walk out with one of those. The entire time I was there they were constantly having issues with the door not working and this night was no exception. One of the babies had messed with their lo jack and set off the alarm. Even though the lo jack had been fixed the alarm wouldn't stop, making it so that no one, not even security could open the door. Well, on the other side of that door was the doctor who needed to examine me. Typical. Excellent. Finally, after the nurses have me strapped to the millions of monitors, a new gown on and an iv in the doc is able to get in. She props me up for a super fun cervical exam and thankfully I wasn't dilated. Since they still don't know for sure whether labor is about to begin and some baby in there has broken water they rush me up on the stretcher (talk about an awkward way to see strangers in an elevator) to the high risk section of l&d. This is where the really fun stuff always happens. Remember that awesome night I had on mag? There was a an incident with a catheter you may recall? No? Well, go do some review. This is that place and guess what... I won the prize! Another 12 hour stint on mag! I know, I am still getting over the jubilation. It wasn't nearly as bad this time because the doctor was there a couple of the times I had to pee and so I was allowed to use the real toilet and all the other times my amazing nurse would just turn off the mag and let me go myself since I wasn't dizzy or weak. Glorious. I was NOT however, very good company for poor Eric. I literally slept the entire time. Even when they wheeled me (on a stretcher of course because I find that so comfortable) up to ultrasound and left me in the hall, I just slept. I was zonked. I was only allowed chicken broth and water. Most people are also allowed apple juice but, of course, I still had the GD (gestational diabetes).

At some point a doctor came in and said "Hi, I'm Doctor Lalalalalala. I met you when you first came in. God, you just keep eking this pregnancy along don't you?!" Yes. Yes I do.

Now when the water first popped I thought that meant we had to deliver. Apparently not. You can go for weeks and weeks with popped water because the baby just pees out more for itself. It is dangerous though because there is a high risk of infection. If your membrane is ruptured (read water broke) you have to be in the hospital until delivery. Also, if you are more than 34 weeks they will deliver immediately because the risk of infection outweighs the risk of prematurity at that point. Now we can all sing the little jingle from The More You Know.

So here I am with a ruptured membrane at 31 weeks, my cervix is still dilated and now basically completely effaced. The doctors had a big discussion and disagreement about whether they should just deliver me at 32 weeks or let me hold out for 34. Since my attending gets the final say I was told that I could hold on to 34 if and only if none of about 400 things happened. There could be no infection, no sign of infection, no labor, no empty sacs, no decels (decelerated heart rates) during any of my twice daily NSTs, and a list of about 394 other things. With all this they sent me back downstairs to wait it out. Things were different. I wasn't allowed to get up as much, wasn't wearing my own clothes (gowns only) and had to wear these weird hospital undies. They are mesh. No, I'm serious, like real mesh. I felt like a proud gay man. I was determined to go to 34 and keep these things cookin. Well... didn't quite happen.

Honestly We're All Just Chasing Our Tails

Gestational diabetes is so stupid. It's so so stupid. When I first got thrown in here they put me on the diabetic menu but never explained how to use it. Then I asked about it and they took me off of it so they could get some baseline readings. Of course it took about 4 days for the switch to get to food services. Eventually I took (and failed) the delicious glucose test from hell. So here's how it went after my big fail. Day one I find out I failed the test and
get put back on the diabetic menu. This time it only takes about a day to switch. Also, side note, the diabetic menu is exactly the same as the regular except sometimes you can choose a small piece of cheese or a hard boiled egg. It's not like a low carb menu or anything that would actually make sense. Anyway. Day two the nutritionist comes
and gives me a diet of 30 carbs at breakfast, 75 at lunch and dinner and 15 at snacks. Fine, no big deal. I think most of my generation and socio economic status is pretty comfortable with nutrition labels and counting calories and carbs, etc. For the next day I stick to that diet. My finger sticks are still too high so for lunch and dinner I bring my carb intake into the sixties. Still too high. The next day I bring it into the fifties. Barely ok. The problem now is that there are no low carb choices in the hospital. Actually, there really aren't many food choices in the hospital in general. So to get my carbs down I am just eating less food. This makes mama bear HUNGRY! I'm freaking starving all the time so one of the doctors decides on Friday that for the weekend I should eat however much I need to and they will watch my levels and decide on the appropriate medication to control it.

Now I am on the diabetic menu but not contained to the carb limits. The complication with that is the computer caps you out at 30 carbs so to get more food in the morning the food services girl has to tell me what else she has on her cart and give that to me. For the weekend I ate as I pleased (as much as thats possible on hospital food) and of course had to explain to every other doctor that walked in what the other had said since clearly they never speak to one another. Ironically, on Saturday and Sunday my blood sugar started almost exactly the same. I had the same thing for breakfast and then for both lunch and dinner had significantly more carbs on Sunday than Saturday. The results were that even though I ate more carbs Sunday my sugars were all within range as opposed to Saturday when I ate fewer carbs I was high at every finger stick. Bite me. Really, I am clearly making myself nutso over something that has absolutely no rhyme or reason. So, this morning the doctors said to continue eating my fill and I will get insulin injections twice a day. Fine by me. I would love to say that I am sure this will stabilize everything no problem but considering recent history, I have a feeling this will just lead to more blog posts.

Judgement Day

Dr Devine had said she would do an exam on Friday to help her

determine whether I should go home. Of course I woke up Friday and
spent ample time looking my prettiest. I shaved my legs and showered
and changed my shirt (I had no more clean pants so I had to wear the
same ones). I know. Clearly I was serious about this momentous
occasion given the massive amount of work that went into all that.
This was like the biggest day of my life since the mag stopped and I
got to pee. I knew she wouldn't be there til evening so I bided my
time crocheting. Yes, I finally got all those knots undone. Although I
also made a vow that I will NEVER purchase unwound yarn again. Why
they even make unwound yarn is a mystery to me. Yeah, okay, maybe it
is easier to package and maybe loomers or something need it unwound. I
don't care. It's a terrible idea. Back to the point.

At about 10 someone came to my room while I was sound asleep (I don't
sleep at night but I take lots of naps) and knocked on the door. When
she poked her head in she said, "You're Ms Silverstein?". I affirmed
rather groggily and she shut the door. I promptly returned to my nap.
A few minutes later, another knock. Same lady. This time, rather
annoyed, she says, "I'm here to take you to your ultrasound." Okay I
knew I was having an ultrasound but you never know what time so it's
not like anyone had said, "Be ready at ten." Second, she didn't say
that the first time. She just asked who I was. I am not a mind reader.
A billion people come in and out of my room everyday so I am pretty
sure there was no way for me to divine that you needed me for
something so I am not sure you need to be annoyed with me. I scrambled
to get on my flip-flops and grab my phone. I took a seat in my sweet
ride and we were on our way. By the time we got down the hall and to
the elevator the woman says, "Where's your bracelet?". "I have no
idea. It must have fallen off in my sleep.". Ha! you thought I was
annoying her before, well apparently that was just the beginning. "Uh,
you need that," she tells me. Ok well that's fine but I can't do
anything about that right here. She asks some buddy of hers that just
passed us to babysit me while she went back to my nurse and got
another wristband. Obviously, keeping my mouth shut for the rest of
the trip would have been the socially responsible thing to do.
Obviously, I am a social idiot so I continued to comment on things we
passed, make little jokes, compliment her, etc. It took a long time
for her various grunts of reply to communicate to me that talking was
not a sweet idea. Eventually we reached our destination and the
torture ended. Now, I had learned the first time I was locked up that
you have to bring something to do with you, thus the phone. Do you get
dropped off in the waiting area? Oh no. They park you in a hallway and
then you wait for a tech to come out and get you. Last time that was
about 45 minutes. This time it was only about 20. It's not like there
are a bunch of people in wheelchairs waiting. It's just you, awkwardly
sitting in the middle of a hallway meant for walking, watching people
pass by, having to see the same people go in and out and decide
whether you should smile the 38th time they pass you or continue to
pretend you are not sitting in a hallway and ignore. Here's me in the
hall:

Eventually I got the ultrasound, everything looked ship shape and I
got to go back in the hallway to wait for my ride back. Luckily it
only took about 20 minutes as opposed to last time when it took over
an hour and a half.

Eric came by that evening just in time for the doc to come by. It was
possibly the most suspenseful moment in history. We're talking more
suspenseful than every sports movie where there is a tie and it comes
down to the last play/second/shot etc. I got ready and laid back. When
she was done she said "Yeah, it's 3cm and about 90%". Then she walked
into the bathroom to wash her hands. Eric, somewhat trepidatiously
asks, "So what does that mean?". Her reply? You really wanna know.
Come on, if you have been on Facebook you already know. Okay fine. Her
words were, "Well, you're not going home". She said it just so it
sounded like "well obviously your not going home crazy person". It was
perfect. She said it just how I would have. A girl after my own heart
I tell ya. Anyway, point is I wasn't stable enough to go home and she
will re-evaluate at 32 weeks. She is also pretty amazing and so she
sat there and chatted with me and Eric about medical and non-medical
stuff for at least an hour. Sorry but you are just not as cool as her.
Get over it.

Yeah, being in the hospital isn't completely awesome. I am currently
suffering from severe Fenway dog withdrawal syndrome. My symptoms
include dreaming he is next to me at night, watching little videos of
him for like an hour at a time and missing him. See how smooth that
was? They should just give me a medical degree. That said, even though
I only write about the ridiculous, it could be a lot worse and I am
certainly not miserable. I think it helps that I had been on bed-ish
rest for several weeks before coming so it's not exactly like my daily
activities have changed tremendously. At home, I laid on the couch all
day watching tv and playing on the computer. At the hospital I lie on
the bed all day watching tv, playing on the computer and crocheting.
At home I wasn't allowed out of the house except to try and get my fat
self to doctor appointments. In the hospital I am only allowed out of
the flor when pushed to an ultrasound and the docs come to me. Not
what I would call a major lifestyle shift if ya get me. Believe it or
not it even has its perks. At home I pay 65 smackers every time I see
a doc plus 42 bucks in cab fare to get there and back. In the hospital
I pay a low flat rate for all you can eat doctor appointments. The
food still sucks though. Don't ever forget that.

I Would Have Gotten Away With It If It Weren't For You Meddling Healthcare Professionals.

The Test

In a very fun and exciting twist I recently found out I am the lucky winner of...Gestational Diabetes! The crowd goes wild. The week before I got put in the clink (so around the 21st) I had to go take my 1 hour glucose challenge. Every preggo has to take it and I am sure we all have the same story to tell. That story is that the garbage they make you drink is beyond horribly disgusting and anyone who says it tastes like orange soda has clearly never drinken orange soda because orange soda doesn't taste like crap. I went to a Quest lab. I had made an appointment the other day. Turns out it didn't matter because the joint was deserted. After ringing the bell at least 3 times, several minutes apart, I was finally buzzed in. The lady at the desk gave me the drink. I somehow didn't throw it up. And we (her, another phlebotomist) watched The Price is Right for an hour. They stole my blood and I was on my way. A couple days later Ms Social (see I Don't Know If Anyone Has Chained You To A Bed) called and let me know I had failed and had to take the three hour. I had a sinking suspicion I had the 'betes. I don't know why I thought so. I had no symptoms I just had a feeling. Anyway, I scheduled myself to do the 3 hour after my doctor appointment on the 27th. Well, we all all know how that appointment went down. It went down with me in a hospital bed wanting to pee desperately. That's how. So I never went to the three hour. Since I was given the steroids in the hospital to beef up all the baby lungs growing in me I couldn't take the test for several days. Apparently the steroids raise blood sugar. I guess. I didn't really ask mostly because any reason to put it off sounded pretty awesome. Anyway, they instead did finger sticks on me four times a day to make sure I wasn't having crazy high levels of blood sugar. They were always higher than they really should be but never in the danger zone where I needed insulin. Although they gave me insulin once even though I was under the number that the order called for. I didn't protest.

About a week after the steroid shots were done I got the word that I would be doing the three hour challenge starting first thing in the morning. The upside was that the nurse would just do it so I didn't have to actually go anywhere. Well, because this is ME we are talking about, I didn't sleep at all the night before. It had nothing to do with the test I just do that from time to time where I don't fall asleep for a night. It's generally no big deal because I nap a little the next day and then sleep nice and sound the following nights. The problem here is that when you are awake you are hungry, like, real hungry. You have to fast for the test so eating was a no no. So, the blood taker came in at 5:30 and of course I was still awake. I gave her my blood and she left. The nurse came in with the drink at like ten to six. Ok. I thought the one hour drink was wretched but heavens to Betsy, I had NO idea what wretched was. This one was Lemon Lime flavored. Instead of having the viscosity of water or soda, like the other one, this drink was more of a syrup. Check it out:

I give you this close up. Notice how it says, "Pleasant LEMON_LIME flavor". That is a horrible lie. They should be sued for false advertising. It should read, "Warning, this crap will make you throw up all over yourself".

By grace of God alone I somehow managed to drink it and keep it all down. I really don't know how I did it on an empty stomach. I felt horribly nauseated from then on but managed to not throw it up. The last thing I wanted to do was have to drink again. Side note, I found out that another patient who had actually thrown up the glucose got to eat 36 jelly beans instead in order to do the test. Why is this not a first option? Anyway, I kept it down. The nurse came an hour after finishing to take the second round of blood. Well, she told me not to sit up because I was nauseous and got her needle into a vein in the crook of my elbow. Good thing no blood cae out. None. Like, not a drop. So, I am not awesome with needles. From the age of about 9 to 21ish I literally fainted EVERY time someone stole my blood or gave me a shot. Without fail, bam, pass out. Luckily, I have gotten much much better and can handle it without fainting. Doesn't change the fact that me + needles does not equal awesome. Being starving, thirsty, hot and horribly nauseous didn't really elevate the situation either. She took out the needle and went for a vein in my hand. This time I sat up cause I was not going to do this three times. She found a vein in my hand and dug in. It took an egregious amount of time, especially since I usually bleed nice and fast. And I was so so close to dropping off. The second that thing came out I let myself drop onto the bed and she brought me some cold washcloths to put on my face. I laid there and stared at the wall for pretty much the entire next hour. An hour after that the day nurse came and took my blood again. It was significantly less dramatic as it was the hour after that. However, by this time I was so over people touching me. I definitely would not have been as horribly grumpy if I had had ANY sleep the night before but, of course, I hadn't. I thought the day would get better. It had to right? How could it get worse? Oh, well, remember that awesome NST (see A Day In The Life Of A Prisoner) I had where the doc had to come in and everyone was pushing me and laying across me to reach things? Yeah, that one. It happened the same day. I knew they were doing an excellent job so I would never be rude to them but after that I literally just wanted to scream "DON'T TOUCH ME!!!!!!" to everyone who walked in the room. Every time they took vitals that day or did my finger pricks I kindof wanted to stab them. More than kindof. I did some excellent yelling inside my head.

The Results

That evening my special resident who is extremely nice and seems quite competent at his job but comes off a little condescending when you are getting to know him, and who we shall call Chris because his name isn't Chris but he looks just like someone whose name is Chris, came to give me the results. You ready? Sure? Make a prediction! Which way do you think it is going to go? You are right. I failed. I think you cheated and saw my Facebook though. He told me that all the levels were elevated and explained what it is and how to treat it, blah blah blah. I told him to go home and do something fun for me. He's so selfish he said he just wanted to sleep because he had to be back at 4:30am anyway. Jerk.

The following day, after a nice sleep, the nutritionist came to talk to me. She gave me my very own special diabetes book:

She did a lovely job telling me all about my new adventure with GD and the exciting things that it would have in store for me. At the top of my list is no more sweets. So, anyone who sees me for like the month after the babies are born will only be allowed in if they come bearing sweets. Cakes, chocolate or sour candy, brownies, ice cream, whatever you have. Those bringing dark chocolate need not apply. You will not be accepted. The GD is actually completely manageable and considering all the terrible complications every doctor I spoke to at the beginning of this pregnancy told me would happen, this isn't a bad one. Plus, I only have to make reasonable nutritional choices for like 6 weeks at the most so no big deal. Also, I can still have Chipotle, just no tortilla. Of course that was the first thing I checked. What did you think would be the first thing on my mind? Don't underestimate me.

During the afternoon the diabetes educator came by with another pamphlet all about GD. She introduced herself and asked me to read the pamphlet and she would be back the next day to discuss. She did in fact return the next day to discuss. She was not old at all but she had that old grandmother feel to her. She was dripping in sweetness and lacking in sense of humor. I am incapable of having a completely genuine conversation with a person and rely heavily on sarcasm to cover my idiocy. Most of the time this gets me by. However, this lady did not get sarcasm. It made for some awkward moments of me explaining that my comments were a joke. In the end she was very helpful in showing me how to use my uber-sexy techno gadget, a diabetes meter. I know. Stop being jealous. Not everyone can live up to the high bar of immense coolness that I set.

Now I get to wonder how much this is going to cost me considering I find that often my insurance blows.