We have on medical clinic in town - a modular home turned into a medical office. The living room of the modular home is the waiting room, and they built walls to make bedrooms smaller and convert them into examination rooms. It's a little office, but I like little offices, as they tend to have a more personal feel to them and calling and talking your doctor is not an impossible task. You actually get somewhere with them, and not just your voice mail. One doctor practices there, they don't prescribe narcotics for chronic pain or tooth pain, and their billing system consists of a receipt book and a written spreadsheet in your file. My doctor is probably in his forties, has a last name that is another word for ass, and wears a Spongebob tie. He cracks jokes in the middle of being serious, but he is a good doctor. I have had my share of doctors and I like him.

What was meant to be a simple office visit ended up turning into one of medical records release, patient education, testing, prescriptions, another visit in a month, and more testing schedule. My poor husband and daughter were stuck waiting forever, though they did leave once or twice to go a grocery run. They were very patient and for two people who can sometimes not be patient, they did very well!

He believes there was a misdiagnosis with the COPD. He believes that perhaps I had a very, very bad virus and that affected the plethora of breathing tests that they gave me. He says it also makes sense that since living down here, I have only had difficulties with my lungs once or twice, but never requiring my husband to accompany me to the Emergency Room like he had when we lived up North. (Which he is very relieved about, not being a great fan of hospitals anyway) He gave my lungs a listen and said that they sounded really good. That's not why I went to the doctor's office, but it is an important part of my medical history (and records release) and he wanted to check up on it. I am pretty pleased that he did, actually, because the threat of COPD has added a lot of stress to our lives. Stress bye-bye.

I was, however, diagnosed with fibromyalgia. I knew that I did, so a formal diagnosis of that wasn't really something that was suprising to me.  It makes sense. It makes a lot of sense, actually, with the difficulties that I have with my body - aches and pains, sleep disturbances, etc. He said what it essentially means is that my body is trying to turn me into a statute. He said I need to sleep. I laughed at that because I would like nothing more than to be able to do so. He prescribed Ambien for me to help me sleep. I don't know if it helped me get to sleep last night, but what it did to is helped me to get better sleep and my mood today really reflected that. He also prescribed Cymbalta. The FDA has approved it for the treatment of fibromyalgia.

He believes that there is something wrong with my thyroid - which also makes sense - so I go in next week for testing for that. And diabetes. He believes that because of some of my symptoms and how it runs in my family, diabetes finishes off the trifecta.

The good news - my lungs aren't drying up. The bad news - pills, pill, pills. Changing how we live our life. Feeling like a old woman at 32.

I have many memories of my childhood, waiting patiently while the house filled with the aroma of warm bread baking in the oven - taunting me. When it came out of the oven, I would watch my mother butter the top of each loaf, waiting for her to tell me it was time to have a slice - ah, just the thought of it makes me crave the carb-filled yummy goodness of my youth, because you know no matter how hard you try, you simply cannot recreate what your mother made. Just. Not. Happening.

With the prices of groceries now, and the fact that I am home all day click-clacking away and teaching Cleo, I have the time and the opportunity to make homemade bread each day. Swamp Daddy loves it. Cleo loves it and I find it oddly therapeutic - particularly kneading the dough on an especially stressful day. The added bonus is that it is so much cheaper to make bread than it is to buy bread. The average loaf of bread here in Southern Louisiana is $2.75. By buying flour, yeast, and vegetable oil in bulk, I can make a loaf of bread for approximately 53 cents. Yes, 53 cents. That's saving $2.22 per loaf and when you go through a loaf a bread every few days, the savings per month really adds up. (The savings from making bread alone pays for the Internet service each month) Plus, it is healthier without all of the preservatives and garbage put into manufactured food and homemade is ALWAYS better!

You can make more than one loaf and freeze it, take it out in the morning and it is ready to be put into the oven in the afternoon or evening. Time saver, fo sho!

Here's the recipe I use for your simple loaf of white or wheat bread:

3 cups flour (white or wheat)

1-teaspoon salt

1 package, or 2 teaspoons yeast

1-tablespoon sugar (or brown sugar, or honey)

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 cup of lukewarm water.

1. First, mix your dry ingredients, and then add oil and water. Stir with a fork or spoon until sticky and stiff.
2. Turn your dough onto a floured counter top, and knead for a full 5 minutes.
3. Place your dough back into the bowl and cover with oil, move dough around so all sides are covered.
4. Place your dough into a warm spot, free of drafts with a cover (such as a table linen, or dishcloth) and let it set for about 2 hours.
5. After it has set, take it out and “punch” it down to release any built up air inside, knead again.
6. Place dough into very well greased loaf pans, and let it rise again for about an hour.
7. Place in oven and bake at 350 degrees for roughly 30-40 minutes.