Hi ya'll!
I've been contemplating starting a blog ForEvER! It seems like it anyway. Plus, loads of folks have asked me to begin one on cooking, nutrition, etc. It's just time, right? So here's a bit about me...
I'm 42 y/o, on extended LOA (leave of absence) from culinary school, or Le Cordon Bleu, Dallas, due to huge amounts of pain, misterious undiagnosed pain, lol, and several other (boring to me) issues stemming from my chronic condition, fibromyalgia, and my autio-immune disorder, lupus. Yep, I've got both. For a long time, I was told you couldn't have both, but tongues out to them doctors, patients can have both. I'm not going to go on about it, I definitely don't want pity, just giving the basics as to why I've got the time to blog if I'm a chef. I have to say, being a chef is such grueling yet fascinating work. And here in 2014, we can finally get a glimpse of what it's like, sort of, to work in the professional kitchen, thanks to food television. Just don't get me started on why Hell's Kitchen should be banned, lol. It's NOT okay to abuse your staff, even though many a chef will understand why a lot do yell during service, and even get down right mean. It's their heads on a spike if the kitchen doesn't produce gorgeous plates, with mouth-wateringly deliciousness.
Okay, so as far as school goes, I've completed like 99% of my classes, which has been infuriating, since I'm such a stickler for finishing what you start, and I'm so conscience especially since I have medical barriers which tend to rear their ugly heads when I've made a goal for myself.
Also, another tidbit, I've worked in the service/restaurant industry since I was 17 y/o. Back when you could fake your age, yep, I lied about my age and when I lived in Atlanta, GA, I told an HR employee that I "forgot" my ID, but showed my SScard. I still feel bad about it. I was hired as a day hostess at this fine dining restaurant and jazz lounge. Eventually, they gave me management duties, but never officially gave me the title of assistant day manager, since I was so young. Good excuse not to raise my pay, right? Anwyays, after about 4 months, I moved back to Denton, TX with my H.S. sweetheart. And on my 18th bday, went in for an interview for a waitress position. The mgr was so impressed with my desire to come in on my bday that he hired me on the spot. I still miss those fun, low-responsibility days where all I had to worry about was saving enough $ to pay my rent (all utiliites paid) and have money for food & gas. Even though I immediately started living with my HS sweetheart, I still had a blast at Chili's. Yep, that was my first foodservice position. I moved on to work all over the Dallas area, being anything from a hostess (when needed), cocktail waitress, banquet server, to FOH trainer. When my daughter was 3, and I was 27, I worked at a well-known steakhouse, as a trainer, bound for management. There was a mgr who did NOT know his boundaries, and decided to slap me (as a joke, right), twice. I did what you're supposed to do, call the police, and immediately notify the other mgr on duty. However, I did not understand to keep my mouth shut around the rest of staff, being way too naive to realize the ramifications of gossip. So, I eventually was squeezed out of that job altogether. I did go through a depression, and since I was a single mom, yep, I had to temporarily lean on ppl I did not really feel I wanted to be pals with. They weren't mean folks, just knew they didn't care about me unconditionally. Today, I look back on that time and realize God was screaming for me to listen and come to him. But I got in my own way. I can even remember my bfriend's mom taking us to church on a couple of occasions, and me even getting into the worship & sermon. Oh well, I just thought, hey, I'm already a Christian since I was raised in the church. Nope, wrong. All is well, though. I now know I was loved even back then.
Another interesting story: When I was pregnant with my daughter, I was told I was a complicated pregnancy due to my lupus, and blood clotting disorder stemming from my lupus (called autphosphilipid syndrome). My fiance and I thought moving to live with his dad and stepmother in Florida would be better than living in Dallas, without help from his family. FYI: His mom wouldn't believe Darion was his child, so she refused to be of any assistance during the pregnancy, and none of my family lived nearby, nor had any time or space for us. So off to Ft Myers we went. On Valentine's Day, 1995, I rebelliously ate a 1/2 dozen oysters on the half shell, and yes, I KNEW some of them weren't at the correct temperature, as I was eating them. SMH! So, within the following next 24 hrs, I spent without food or drink, even sips of water caused horrindous responses. I eventually ended up at the ER, and was placed in the Triage unit for overnight observation. What happened next was TERRIFYING!!! no joke...I woke up around 11pm with my hand throbbing. I mentioned it to the nurse, who noticed the IV had infiltrated (google it peeps). Unlucky for me, one, the IV was mostly potassium chloride, which is ToXic to the tissues, and secondly, the on-call dr was a bit of a lazy butt and would only order a wet, warm compress which did NOTHING! for me. Overnight, my hand swelled up, at 1am they cut off my engagement ring (don't worry, it wasn't expensive). At 8am, when the dr's did their rounds, they immediately decided I needed emergency surgery. By that time, the swelling had pasted my elbow, and the fluid had began to burn through to the top layer of my skin just by my wrist. OH! and this was all happening to my left hand/arm which is a big, HUGE deal to me, since I'm extremely left-handed. I was freaking out on the inside, but still very exhuasted and still in pain from the food posioning. By 1pm that day, Saturday, I was getting plastic surgery where they cut both sides of my lower arm and hand, trying to leave the top side of my wrist intact (this would help me to have movement quicker than if they cut it open). The doctor did NOT sew my wounds back up, only the bottom side of my hand (to the wrist). They had to leave the wounds open to debreed (yeah, google that one too, be forewarned it's pretty gross). By the next day, I was transferred to another hospital, an long-term care/wound care center where there were no other pregnant women, only very mature ppl who's wounds wouldn't heal correctly. I was in terrible pain. The drs decided I needed more intensive treatments, and asked me to agree to hyperbaric oxegyn therapy; I was the first pregnant lady to undergo this treatment, ever. After I signed the releases, lol, I successfully completed five without incident. However, on the fifth day, a Saturday, I had a grand mal seizure while on the toilet, yep very embarrassing. The nurses told my fiance that it was only my passing out, yah right, thanks for the concern, and put me back in bed, where my fiance attempted to fight with me and force feed me waffles and coffee. Not an ideal diet for a person with hypoglocemia since she was 14, and esp not for a pregnant person (food options were not his fault, just what was offered). Come to find out, I had bit my tongue, but was unable to communicate this to him or the nurse on staff, since my brain wasn't functioning correctly, and I was wiped out from the episode. Later, my obgyn from the other hospital visited me when I was on my way for my sixth chamber treatment. Lucky for me! I ended up having another grand mal seizure in his prescence while I was inside the chamber. Now, in case you haven't googled this yet (how dare you, j/k), it takes time to come off the full oxegyn pumped into the chamber, just like it is for scuba divers. So, I was having this seizure, and they couldn't do anything but try to get my attention. They were so sweet to me, but I eventually went totally out, and didn't regain full consciousness until I was on a gurney flying down the hall. My fiance was talking to me, freaking out, asking me if I could hear him. My brain had forgotten any recent events, including him, my baby, the city we were in, etc. I totally looked at him, and was like, who are you? but couldn't say it. I began ripping off all the gauge from my left arm, which of course started bleeding everywhere. It was dificcult for the staff to get ahold of me since my left arm was an open wound, without hurting me more than I already was. Anyways, I finally calmed down, and did remember who he was, etc. Once I was transferred back to the original hospital, my OBGYN was able to do some tests, including an ultrasound of my womb, he found a blood clot in the placenta as well. During the night, it grew. I was told that it was a very big possibility that it would kill me if left alone, and would def kill my unborn child. So I had to decide to have an emergency c-section, and Darion was born! She was only 1-lb 9.25oz, and only 12 inches long. She was a tiny little thing, being born 3 months preemie. I couldn't hold her though for over a week. The only major medical issue she had was she was Jaundice the first three days, and she couldn't breath very well the first couple of days. Other than that, we just had to tube feed her most of the time she was in the hospital, and get her to gain as much weight as possible. We couldn't take her home til just one week shy of her due day, May 24th (released 5/17).
As for me though, I had it pretty rough for a while. After the c-section, I stayed in the hospital for another week, trying to connect the dots in my head, and not having much luck. I slept a lot. It took forever for me to realize I had this huge chunk bitten off my tongue and gum. But that wasn't the worst of it: The worst was my arm was still not healing and the nurses & I had to keep debreeding my wound. They put my arm in a sort of compression sock, and hooked it onto an IV pole so I didn't have to lay it down on anything. Seriously, it was a purely open wound, here's TMI: It was open down to the muscle!!!! And the staff had to purposely allow gauge to stick to all the flesh then, RIP it off. This was an attempt to remove/pull off any dead flesh which wouldn't come off on its own. It was like having scabs but inside your arm/hand. Eventually, my plastic surgeon had to cut the topside of my wrist to allow us to get to some hidden areas which needed debreeding. This was the site where the liquid had burned its way up to my epedermis. Once they released me, I had a home nurse visit me twice a day for three months. During the last month, I was able to do some of the debreeding on my own. I just felt it was easier for me to be able to anticipate the pain. By this time, the wounds had mostly healed on their own, with just one small gash having some black, dead flesh (sorry, I'm immune to this type of talk. I can hear my mom telling me it sounds gross).
I continued to have seizures and lost time on a daily basis for the first two months after my grand mal seizures cause my body was not absorbing the dilantin I was taking for them. Eventually we did get it under control, just in time for Darion to come home. Unfortunately though, my fiance & I did not fair well. We were both pretty young. I was able to handle this better since I already dealt with having lupus, and took these events with an optomistic attitude. For him, he was in shock for months. We fought every day, not knowing really how to move forward. We wanted to make a home for Darion, but we were still living with his dad. He ended up working lots of hours, and I ended up staying home all the time, with only one thing to do when I could make it-visit Darion, and love her, touch her, learn how to care for her (the hospital had classes for parents with a preemie baby), and eventually got to feed & HOLD her. It was scary though, knowing she needed such gentle, constant care once we got to bring her home. He & I looked at places to rent, bought the furniture, etc we needed, but never moved out of his dad's house. At some point, I think he gave up, and knew he just couldn't handle being a father. I agreed, but felt he deserved to be around her. It just didn't work out. I don't wanna say anything bad about the guy, it's not like he & I were married, and had the time to build a loving relationship. However, it's unfortunate for Darion. I tried to keep in contact with him, etc, but he just wanted to hide behind what his mom always said, which was who knows who's child she was. I still can't believe that he's STILL using that as an excuse though. It's ridiculous since I hadn't been promiscuous at all before I met him. And, I was going through my divorce, so I wasn't seeking out one night stands (never really did). Hmph, just wish it had been different for D. She's the BEST daughter, ever!
I'm gonna stop for now, I've been working on this post for three days. I haven't even really discussed my love for food, nutrition, etc. Or how I'm doing physically, etc. Not that that is what this blog will be all about. Just want to give my back stories. Can't tell just one. lol