Flickers of hope

I'm so over talking about my health issues right now, but I know many are wondering what's going on and instead of taking up Twitter space, I figured I'd just get you up to speed here. Easiest route for all of us, really.

Physically, I seem to be on the mend. I'm able to eat more of what I want without repercussions, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the natural means I've been using are doing their job and my body will finally get back to normal again. I'm going to attempt dance class this Sunday. We'll see what I can do. If I get tired, I'll stop. If not, then I'll dance my ass off (and promptly drop from exhaustion when I get home Sunday night). My goals are to get back in the gym by the end of the month, which gives me another week. It's been too long and I have a 5k to train for, dammit!!

Emotionally, quiet nod ...I have hope. We'll just leave it at that.

Thank you all for your thoughts, prayers, texts, emails, phone calls and messages. You have helped me so much with your concern and presence. I love you.

Update - Lab results back

I went to the Dr. on Monday. She ran some lab work and everything came back normal. I don't have C-Diff. Which is good...but it also means that this is all just a side effect of the Clindamycin, which means no quick fix.

It's not as bad as it was last week, but I still can't eat anything but the most mild of foods. I'm bored to death of bananas and yogurt, though. Rice and applesauce aren't much better. And even these things don't work, for the most part. I'm learning, by trial and error mostly, what I can eat and what I can't. I've spent the better part of a week eating BRAT and I'm so over it. I'm still taking my pro-biotic and sticking to milder foods, but at the same time, I'm eating other things too so I can figure out what I can have and what I can't. I'm also drinking a TON of fluids and taking in quite a bit of sodium to keep my electrolytes up.

The doctor said to just keep doing what I'm doing and eventually I'll get back on track.

Eventually.

I hate that word.

I finally found the paperwork that goes with the Clindamycin and if I'd read it more carefully, I would see that this is a very well-explained side effect of that medication. Of course, the words "severe" and "fatal" are also included, so maybe it's best that I didn't find it until now. I don't feel like I'm gonna die, but some days I wish I would.

This shit is miserable. No pun intended.

In other news, I'm still dealing with the emotional side of everything. Frustration, depression, anxiety and anger are all quite prevalent right now. I think a lot of it stems from having spent over the half the year in bed, in the hospital or on the couch, especially since it came on the tail end of all the chaos from last fall. The cruise last week was a short reprieve and I enjoyed my time away, but I'm paying for it now with exhaustion levels at an all-time high. The bad news is that I found out my anxiety medicine may be causing these feelings to be bigger, badder and uglier than usual. The good news is that I haven't had to take any in over a week, so there's that.

I trust that everything will work out in the end and if it's not okay, then it's not the end. It just sucks in the meantime. I'm reaching out to those who can help and my support system is strong, thankfully. In fact, help is actually coming from some very surprising sources, which I'm quite grateful for.

Until then, I'm still mostly distant from social media. I tend to spend what little energy I have on shit that doesn't matter and I've found it's safest to stay away from Facebook and Twitter when that happens. I am checking DM's, messages and @ replies, though, as well as texts and emails. I'm not so great with the phone, but overall, I am still reachable. I haven't shut myself off from the world entirely - just the superfluous stuff.

When I feel up to it, I'll check in. When I'm not, I won't. I'm focusing elsewhere and trying to fix the stuff I am able to instead of getting worked up about the stuff I can't.

I have gotten everyone's texts, DM's, @'s, emails and messages, though. I am responding to everyone as I am able to. If I don't get to you, please know I do see you. I appreciate everyone's concern and prayers and can use all the good juju you wanna send my way.

Update: A month later (TMI alert)

Medical updates are always graphic, so proceed at your own risk. Don't say I didn't warn you.

I kind of want to kill my doctor right now. I won't, but I'll get back to that in a minute.

Physically, I've got no pain left from my surgery. Bleeding and discharge finally stopped last week and other than feeling completely and totally exhausted 90% of the time, I'm doing quite well, all things considered.

Emotionally, I seem to be balancing out. My anxiety was at an all-time high last week, but I blame that on being surrounded by 2500 people on a boat in the middle of the ocean with no way to escape except via medication. I maxed out a couple of days on how much medicine I could take. I'm not proud of that fact, but it is what it is and I can't change it now.

I went for my two week check-up on the 4th and it was determined that I had some bacterial growth and my gyno prescribed Flagyl. For those who aren't familiar, it's apparently one of the strongest antibiotics out there and is given only for the most extreme infections. Why? Well, because it's been found to cause cancer in lab rats.

Cancer.

FUCKING CANCER.

Granted, they're probably given some obscenely high amount, but still. Cancer.

I called him back the next day and said "Uh, no. Find something else." So he called in a prescription for Clindamycin instead. I was assured it doesn't cause cancer in anything and it was safe to take with my other medications, if need be. I took it the day before I left for the cruise and noticed a frustrating side effect: diarrhea. Awesome. Just what I needed to deal with while on vacation, right? I called my pharmacist and she reassured me that it shouldn't cause more than the mildest case and I would probably be fine after a day or two. Combine her reassurance with my paranoia that I'd become septic if I stopped taking it and end up in the hands of a Bahaman medical team, I took the pill again on Thursday.

I won't go into grotesque details, but suffice it to say, "mild" was not what this was. I wouldn't even say "severe" categorized it sufficiently. Catastrophic proportions was more the case.

After one particularly horrible incident on Friday afternoon (of which I will spare you the details), I stopped taking the medicine and decided that septic shock, no matter how dangerous would be better than the humiliation of something uncontrollable happening in front of 2,500 people.

When I got home from vacation, I called the doctor and told his nurse what happened. She conversed with the doctor and called me back, reassuring me that I'd had enough of each antibiotic to fight off the bacteria the doctor had found and unless I developed symptoms of the infection coming back that I wouldn't need further medication.

Thank God.

Unfortunately, I'm still dealing with this damn diarrhea. It's backed off from catastrophic and settled into just an F4 on the Fujita shit scale. Because it hadn't let up in a week, I alerted my chiro to it when I went in on Thursday and he recommended an herbal supplement/pro-biotic that was designed to level out GI/digestive issues and I began taking it immediately.

It's not working. (And when I belch, all I taste is oregano, sage and thyme -- three of the essential oils in the supplement. Awesome.)

Which makes me become concerned.

At 4am.

On a Saturday morning.

And that always leads to Google. Not Web MD, thankfully...because quite frankly, diagnosing myself with cancer is too much for even me to handle right now. But Google is bad enough.

I looked up "clindamycin side effects" and came up with this link: http://www.peoplespharmacy.com/2009/06/21/clindamycin-sid/

I'm sorry, does that say "lethal?" And what's that about "illestomy?!" If I wanted to deal with that, I would've just stayed on the Flagyl and gotten cancer along with the lab rats.

Needless to say, I'm calling my doctor again on Monday to make sure I don't have this c-diff stuff. My fear is that if I do, they'll prescribe yet ANOTHER medication to treat that...which, of course, like everything else I've taken thus far, will have side effects. By the time all is said and done, I'll end up on fourteen different medications and still feel like shit. (No pun intended.)

I'm so fucking over this.

**UPDATE** My nurse friend told me a) to stop Googling at 4am, b) take Immodium, and c) eat yogurt. I'm skipping the Immodium and taking my herbal supplement instead and other than a few handfuls of Cheetos (for which I was properly chastised), I'm eating yogurt (and bananas. And rice. And applesauce.).

Weekly update

This is the second surgery I've had in less than four months. I'm supposed to be on bed rest, getting up only to go to the bathroom, fill a glass or a plate and back to bed. I am allowed to do more only as I feel up to it, but no lifting, pushing or strenuous activity. No baths, no exercising, no dog walking. Those last few things calm me down. And when the anxiety gets as bad as it has been the last few weeks, not having those outlets is killing me.

Physically, I'm doing well. The pain is able to be controlled by the occasional dose of Ibuprofen and the bleeding is at a minimum, I think. I'm finally able to sleep in bed instead of on the couch. I feel up to doing light cooking and playing fetch with Lucky. I'm not where I want to be, but I'm farther than I thought I'd be.

Emotionally, however, is a different story. I don't know what's going on. The mood swings I'm having are like PMS and Cujo-level rabies got together and had a love child and that love child was raised by Charles Manson. I go from one extreme to another on a flip of a coin and there's no way of telling which way the coin will fall. If all this had happened in February after my right ovary came out, then I could blame it on hormone changes because of the missing ovary. But it's been almost four months since it came out and these mood swings didn't start (according to those around me) until this surgery last week. It's almost like my left ovary is suddenly useless or something. It's bizarre.

I do have an unexpected vacation to look forward to in a couple weeks, though, so that helps with the depression I've been dealing with. It's caused me some anxiety, but overall, it'll be a good thing, so I'm trying to keep that in the forefront of my mind.

In the meantime, when I'm bitchy and downright mean, please just ignore it. It's not you. It's me. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Recovery

I've been home for two days now and I'm over this whole recovery thing.

I spent all day Sunday in a deep, indescribable fog. The narcotics had their dirty, seductive way with me and left a dense haze in their wake. I finally submerged from the fog sometime late Sunday afternoon and managed to deal with the pain taking only half of the pills I had been taking.

It's no secret I hate pain pills, but I did learn last time that I have to take them regardless. Thankfully, in talking with a nurse friend, she suggested I take the non-narcotic pill on the steady basis and take the others only when I needed to. Advice was heeded.

I awoke this morning with a start. And by a start, I mean like a sonic boom. It woke me from a dead sleep like a damn bomb went off. Scared me so bad and I couldn't get calmed back down right away. Thankfully, Midget came out to check on me. I was in pain, but not so much that I wanted to take narcotics, so I went back to bed.

I was able to stay on top of the pain, for the most part today, but I'm getting to that point when the fog is gone and the irritation sets in. I hate that I can't do more. One minute I'll feel good enough to stand and make myself a bowl of soup and an hour later, I'll be so tired that even going to the bathroom sends me exhausted to the couch for the next three hours. Patience is not my strong suit.

Overall, Hubs and Ann Marie tell me I'm doing better than I did with the last surgery, but most times, it doesn't feel like that.

I have been able to enjoy my bird feeders a little today, though and even took a few pictures that I posted on Facebook. AM brought us Chinese for lunch and Mom (her step-mom...and let's face it, mine, too) sent up a rotisserie chicken with potatoes for supper. It was nice not to have to worry about cooking anything and I'm sure Hubs appreciates having one less thing to worry about, especially given what a difficult patient I am most of the time.

I'm trying to stay busy and I'm also trying to sleep as often as I can. Right now, I'm just at that "I hate everything" stage. Let's hope it passes.

Home.

Today sucked. That's about the best way I can sum it up.

The IV had to come out. The problem was two of my three meds were going through it and Kris, my day nurse, stated quite matter-of-factly that I wouldn't be able to get those meds if the IV came out. She didn't offer to call the doctor to see what he wanted to do. She didn't think to see if I could get those meds in pill format. She didn't think to see if we could put another IV in. Nope. She went straight to, "You can't have those two drugs."

The problem was that even with all three drugs, I wasn't able to stay on top of the pain. Even with all three in my system, I was staring down the barrel of a 7 on the pain threshold. At one point, I was 20 mins late on a dose and was teetering on a 10 and in tears. It wasn't pretty.

Now, know what that 10 felt like and knowing that was just being late...the thought of being without two of those three meds sent me into a panic attack. (Which, I might add, NOBODY knew I had an anxiety issue. It wasn't marked in my chart - even though the doctor who prescribed the Ativan entered it into the same system the entire hospital/medical center uses. It's a joint system.) I cried and honestly, don't remember the rest. I just knew that if I tried to explain to my nurse what was wrong, I would end up screaming at her and she didn't deserve that. Well, mostly not, anyway...she could've used some fucking initiative if you ask me, but nobody bothered asking me, so I digress. So I asked Hubs to talk to her...which he did. And within 30 mins, I had two more nurses in my room. One was talking me through my panic attack. The other was from Peds and was figuring out the best spot to put another IV so I could get the last few doses of pain meds before I left the hospital.

I did end up missing a full dose of the two IV meds, but I was able to get at least one more dose of each in. Unfortunately, it put me behind the 8 ball pain-wise and I spent the afternoon with ice packs and sleeping to try and block it out. I got about a 3 hour nap. I awoke to find out that the nurse who talked me through the panic attack was my 2nd shift nurse (YAY!) and the nurses aide was the same one I had the last time I was in the hospital in February. Both women were great and talked to me for a long time when they came on shift.

I felt better after my nap and despite not having the IV meds anymore, I wasn't experiencing too much pain. I managed to take a shower and eat some supper. What I forgot to do, however, was take another dose of the Percoset (the one med I was taking by pill). So now I'm playing catch-up. Without IV meds. And without Perc...b/c the pharmacy closed at 7. But I do have vicodin and tramadol, so I can use those until I can get my Perc Rx filled. And I can take my anxiety meds, too, if I need them.

I wanted another day in the hospital, but honestly, now that I'm home and being taken care of by my bestie/sister and my hubby...I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. AM baked me a pie. Hubby bought me pierogi. Pretty sure life can't get better.

Well, if this pain would go away, that'd be great, but overall, I am already doing better than I was after the last surgery at a week out, so there's that.

I see my doctor again in a couple weeks. Unless something monumental happens between now and then, I don't anticipate any updates. Your continued prayers and good thoughts are welcome, though.

And thank you to Brandi, Jeny and my in-laws for the beautiful flowers. They're brightening up my living room as we speak.

Another update

Hi kids. Me again.

I should've just waited until my doctor came in, but I didn't figure he'd be in before noon. But he came in bright and early at 8am.

He said the surgery went well. the left ovary looked good, but the uterus was a firm, puffy mess. He said it looked like there were numerous fibroids but that pathology would cut into it and get a better idea of what was going on.

He said he'd love to keep me in the hospital until tomorrow but insurance probably wouldn't allow it, but I can, at least stay until after diner tonight. It's not what I want but its not up to me, apparently.

at this given moment, I'm waiting for my nurse to come figure out why my IV got "infiltrated" and what she's gonna do about it. feels like a rock under my skin and it hurts like hell.

Uggggh!

Post-surgery update

Please keep in mind I'm under the influence of heavy narcotics, so this may or may not make sense. If not, then leave a comment with your questions and I'll try to clarify.

My bestie was a clown yesterday and I love her for it. When she joined me back in pre-op, she brought a tiara, beads and a sign to commemorate my hysterectomy. We each had signs, as well. I was Queen Uterus Removus and she was the Royal Jesterectomy.

And when I came up to my room after surgery, I discovered balloons and a pennant banner that read "Happy This-Uterus-Is-Hyster-Ectom-Y Day." I even had confetti on my wheeled tray. I love her for keeping my mood lighthearted. She's a keeper, that one.

And on a funny side note, as I started to come-to in recovery, I overheard the team of nurses discussing Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. It was actually kinda cool and made me want to wake up more quickly so I could partake in the discussion.

My uterus and cervix have been removed. My doctor left the left ovary (for reasons explained in a previous blog). He did look it over and determined that the cysts he saw were from ovulation, which is perfectly normal (so I'm told). They're the type that go away on their own and he tells me they're nothing to worry about. He was able to do the surgery vaginally with laporascopic help (which is the much better option as far as recovery goes. I'm in a lot of pain - in fact, I'm surprised how much I hurt from things that aren't there anymore. Gotta love phantom pain. But the doctor has kept me wonderfully sedated.

I intensely disliked yesterday's nurse as she was quite condescending at times and couldn't seem to understand me when I asked her for things. (For instance, I asked for a refill on my water and she said "I'll be right back with your Percoset." Which normally? Who doesn't wanna hear "Lemme get you more narcs" but when your lips are stuck together, you kinda want the water first. But I digress.) But last night's nurse and my overnight nurse were fantastic.

I was allowed to have real food the minute I got back to my room yesterday, but I feel it was too soon, as I was very crampy later on in the day. I've taken it a bit easier since then, opting for beef broth and lots of water instead of eating heavier things. I will say the apple pie I had at dinner last night was the best I've ever gotten that wasn't homemade. So there's that.

Because of my pain levels and the troubles I had the last time they kept me only over night, I am going to plead with my doctor to keep me another day. While I'm shuffling around here without too much trouble, the thought of a 45-min drive home followed by climbing steps doesn't greatly appeal to me just yet. In fact, truth be told, I probably overdid it yesterday, but the floor nurse was super busy last night and I couldn't wait a half hour for her to help me get to the bathroom. And Hubby was already sleep and it was like trying to wake the dead when he's asleep.

On a good note, the night nurse let me change into my own sleep clothes last night, so I'm a bit more comfortable than I was in the hospital gown. Of course, in doing so, she had to disconnect my IV and I promptly bled all over my bedding and spilled some on my nightgown too. Oh well...I'm in MY clothes, so that's what counts. (And I have the stuffed giraffe Midget gave me before I left the house - who incidentally also has a wristband like mine.)

Anyway...I'll keep y'all posted, but there we are, as it stands.

Thank you, everyone for your prayers, thoughts and good wishes. I may haven't have replied to everyone individually, but I have seen them and I am so grateful for your love.

This week's update

Three days until my surgery.

I had some questions for my doctor, so he called me tonight and we discussed them.

I've been pushing for a full hysterectomy - since my right ovary came out in February, that means my left ovary would come out along with my uterus and the cervix as well. I was confident that my kinesiologist could help me balance the hormone issues with supplements and nutritional changes.

However, in talking with my doctor tonight, I've changed my mind on removing my left ovary. While I'm still scared that I'm going to have to have it removed due to cysts at some point, my doctor advised me that studies have shown that full hysterectomies in women my age can lead to a shortened life-span due to hormone loss. Shortened by five to ten years.

FIVE. TO. TEN. YEARS.

That's a biiiiiiiiiiiig amount of time. I'm not ready to gamble my life span on an ovary that may or may not be bum yet.

We'll talk more on Friday, but as it stands, Lefty will stay unless there is substantial evidence that it will need to come out in the near future anyway. They're still planning on trying to do the surgery laparoscopically (sp? Do I even care how it's spelled at this point?) unless there are issues that prevent it once they're in there.

I'll get a call on Thursday from the hospital letting me know what time my surgery is.

*deep breath*

Let's do this.

Cleared for take-off.

I have been given the green light for surgery. I went to see the internal medicine doctor yesterday to get clearance for surgery and she gave it. My blood pressure was well within the normal range (Thanks to skipping my morning coffee, I'm sure) and she said I'm in good health.

I also talked to her about my increased anxiety and as much as I hate that I had to do it, I did let her give me a prescription for an anti-anxiety pill. It's one that I only have to take as needed, so I won't be a prisoner to it, so that's good. She also said it can help me sleep, which would be nice, too. Although, at this point, sleeping is the least of my worries. I'll sleep when I'm tired. Which may be in June. Who knows.

Update

The depression seems to be lifting a little bit, so that's good. I'll take it. I'll also take the absence of a period in the last 10 days. I've been crampy a lot, but no period so far.

I have an appointment tomorrow with an internal medicinist for my pre-surgical check-up. The only thing I'm a bit worried about is my blood pressure. It's been higher than normal at previous doctor visits and I'm hoping it won't be a hindrance to get this surgery.

And the surgery is 11 days away. It can't come soon enough. I'm ready to get to the recovery part of this process so I can enjoy my summer.

The emotional part of all this.

Last night, Hubs and I were at dinner and apparently someone sitting near us had a baby because I caught the very faintest whiff of a brand new Pampers diaper. Those of you who've used them know the scent I'm talking about. It's hard to describe to those who haven't, but it's a smell I remember from my childhood when my siblings were first having their babies and I remember being excited about growing up and having my own babies someday. I would always use Pampers because that's what you were supposed to use, right? Anyway, as I sat there last night and caught the scent in the air, I burst into tears.

Why?

I'm done with having babies - have been for fifteen years, mind you. I don't want any more babies and haven't for quite some time, but I guess the finality of it all hit me knowing that this surgery takes the choice of having one out of my hands. Not that my bum uterus could handle another pregnancy even if I did get my tubes untied, but the option was always mine, you know?

Thankfully, Hubby just held my hands while I cried and nodded in understanding. He's a super trooper like that.

Now, fast forward to this morning when I woke up to the fourth period I've had since the middle of last month. The woman I am today, kinda wants to strangle that emo bitch I was last night.

I'm so fucking over this already.

20 days and counting.

Mini-update

My regular doc (my kinesiologist) suggested I take an immunity booster (Immucore) which is what I normally take only when I'm starting to feel under the weather. It'll put my immunity system levels where they should be so I don't get sick before my surgery and it'll also help me fight any possible infections that stem from the surgery. Then, after the operation, I'll go back on the Surgical Health Formula supplements which help rebuild healthy tissue after trauma. He also wants me to take a nutritional test after the surgery to see what my body is the most lacking in, so we can take care of that before it gets out of hand.

He tried to treat some of the symptoms (including the cramping) I've had, but I don't think the adjustments took. I'm in a pretty good amount of pain tonight and what had tapered off period-wise has returned. Can't seem to catch a break there. It's frustrating.

I did, however, pick up my Vicodin tonight and will be sleeping under the influence of it tonight.

My emotional stress is still high. Although I'm not as depressed as I was these last few days, I'm still dealing with outside influences that make my blood pressure rise -- the last thing I should have happening right now.

But I digress and continue to take it day-by-day. All I can do.

This week's update on the girly parts

I finally talked to the doctor tonight for a few minutes and he's set a tentative surgery date for May 18th for a full hysterectomy. He said at my age, if there wasn't a real need for the left ovary to come out, he'd leave it in, but since there are cysts there now, too, it probably needs to come out. I agreed, arguing that I don't want to go through another surgery in a year when those cysts have grown and are causing me pain, too. I'd much rather deal with turbulent hormones that can be treated holistically, nutritionally and, as a last resort, medicinally than have to recover from yet another surgery.

He's still trying to work with the hospital in getting me in sooner than May 18th, but because he's only allotted a certain number of days in the OR, he's got to take what he can get. So, at the very latest, that's when my surgery will be. If he can get something sooner, he will. 

He's cautiously optimistic that he can do this laparoscopically, but has told me, "don't be surprised if you wake up with an abdominal incision." If they can do it lap/vaginally, then I'll be in the hospital probably overnight and have about a 3 week recovery period. If they have to do a full abdominal surgery, I'm looking at probably 2-3 days in the hospital and at least six weeks recovering. Considering the last surgery was laparoscopic and it took me six weeks to fully recover when they told me 2, I'm not overly optimistic and plan on allowing myself most of the summer to get back up to speed. This means my 5k's will have to wait and that's fine. I'll get to them when I can.

In the meantime, I'm dealing with the third period I've had in less than six weeks. The cramps aren't the level 10 they were last week, but after three days at a level 4, I'd gladly take 8 hours at a 10 and be done with them. This is like Chinese water torture. The doctor prescribed me stronger pain pills, so I'll go pick those up tomorrow. I don't want to take them, but at least I've got them to take if things get worse.

I'm dealing with a lot of emotional issues regarding this surgery that I wasn't counting on. While I've been pushing for this procedure for years, it is a major surgery and there are always risks involved. I'm sure that my biggest issues revolve around the fact that I lost my mom at such a young age. Granted, that situation was much different than this is, but there are so many semantics that are the same and I'm scared. The hard part is hearing from everybody, "you'll be fine," and not being able to trust that completely. That's the great thing about anxiety - it trusts nobody. And by "great," I mean shitty. I haven't really stopped crying since Friday and at this point, I'm pretty much impossible to be around.

I'm also learning who I can lean on and who I can't as this surgery approaches. I'm discovering who is on the selfish side and who would give me their own uterus if I needed one. Here's the thing, I have a major problem asking for help. If it's offered, I'm slowly learning how to accept it, but I will almost never outright ask for it. What bothers me, though, is people who say "If you need anything, let me know" and then can't (or, more likely the case, won't) step up when they're asked. If you truly can't help, I understand. Not everyone is able to help and I respect that. But (and I'm really trying to choose my words carefully here because I'm so upset right now), if you've offered specific help and then you withdraw that offer when we ask you about it, then you shouldn't have offered to begin with. I'll leave the details out because at this point, I don't even want this person's help, but suffice it to say, my feelings were very hurt tonight by a member of my own family. Thankfully, I'm blessed with the most amazing friends on the planet who will, undoubtedly be there for me as I recover from this. 

That being said, I am withdrawing from a lot of people right now. Some of it is because I'm tired of having my feelings hurt. Some of it is because I just don't have the extra energy to deal with other people's drama. Some of it is because I don't want to bring other people down with the depression I'm dealing with. But mostly, it's because I absolutely cannot get sick right now. A sinus infection, the flu, even a cold could mean my surgery gets postponed until June. I just can't wait that long. The only reason I'm waiting until May 18th is because that's the best date they can give me at this point. I don't plan on going anywhere to visit friends and family until after my surgery. Hell, if I can get out of going to the grocery store, I'll do it if it means I don't get sick. I'll Skype and email and Tweet and FB as I feel up to it, but again, I make no promises that I'll be in a good mood. I'm trying to find silver linings on a daily basis, but I suck at this "fake-it-til-you-make-it" shit, so consider yourselves warned.

So there's this week's update. My gyno's nurse is supposed to call me tomorrow with information about the surgery as well as get me an appointment with a internal medicine doctor for a pre-surgical check-up. I'm sure my BP will be a concern of theirs, but I refuse to worry about it right now. I've got too much other stuff on my mind. As I know more, I'll update you here.

Thank you to those of you who have been concerned, have offered to help and have been praying for my health. I appreciate you more than you know. You're all invited to my Uterus Bon Voyage party. ;)

More stuff about my vajayjay (High Overshare Risk)

Sooooooo.

Instead of answering a hundred questions in a hundred different places, I figured it was probably best if I just put everything down here so we're on the same page. It'll be a medical history of sorts, so if you're not into listening about the graphic detail of my lady bits, you're free to go now.

Okay...who's still with me?

*sigh*

Most importantly, I do not have cancer. It seems like an important thing to announce, so there ya go.

Also of importance:
1. My blood pressure was only slightly high today (stress about all this is probably the culprit as it's been fine the last several weeks).
2. My gynecologist is quite supportive in taking the aggressive approach toward me overcoming the issues I've been dealing with for so many years.

That being said, aside from getting to wear pretty shoes, being a woman sucks big ones.

I'm sure most of you are aware of the surgery I had in February due to a tumor on my right ovary. It wasn't cancerous, but it was a big one and both the tumor and the ovary had to be removed. My doctor assured me that while there were small cysts on both ovaries, the likelihood of it happening to the other side was minute. He looked over everything while he was in there and I was given a clean bill of health. I spent the next six weeks recovering.

About a month later, I woke up to a bed full of blood. It scared the hell out of me. I had an endometrial ablasion five years ago that had eliminated my periods, so to wake up bleeding from my 'na was alarming to say the very least. The nurse I spoke with on the phone said it didn't sound life-threatening, but I should be seen by a doctor soon. The ER PA determined it was probably just a period but to keep an eye on things if the bleeding got worse or I had any pain. Within a couple days, the bleeding tapered off and what pain I had went away. Fast forward a couple of weeks, during what would have been my ovulation period and I had quite a bit of cramping. Fortunately, I had some prescription pain killers my doctor had given me after the surgery, so I took one every once in a while and muddled through.

Then yesterday came.

Like in February, I woke up with severe cramping. I spent the morning doubled over in pain and finally succumbed to the pain killers that I've been stubborn about taking. They didn't touch the pain. Not even dwindling it from a 10 to a 9. The pain persisted for almost eight hours despite the medication I tried. (and I tried it all.) Finally, late in the afternoon, I started bleeding and within ten minutes, the pain subsided enough that I was able to control it with medicine. And, like last time, the bleeding has tapered off to almost nothing. During the height of my pain, however, I decided that I was done with it.

I was scheduled for my annual exam in May, so I called my gyno and bumped the appt up to next week. The nurse called me back and reminded me that I had an appointment today for a follow-up from my last ER visit. Thank God!

My main goal in today's appointment was to discuss the possibility of a hysterectomy.

This is where I tell you to shut up. Not you....YOU. You with the judgments and the suggestions and the alternatives and the stories about how hormonal I'll get and how this'll send me into menopause and how I'm too young for that and...and....just stop.

In my defense (and, by the way, this is the only time I'll defend this choice to anyone, so make sure you listen), I've been dealing with defunct reproductive organs for fifteen years (twenty, if you count my miscarriage in 1992). Heavy periods. Absent periods. Cramps. Irregularity. Clotting. Hemmoraging. You name it, I dealt with it. This was not a decision I came to lightly, however it is one that I've pushed for since my daughter was born in 1997. That's when my tubes were tied and my uterus was closed for business. I knew my mother's and my sister's histories with these issues and if I could possibly prevent them, I was totally prepared to do so. Nobody listened. Five years ago when I pushed for a hysterectomy, nobody listened. Instead, I was given birth control and told to try that for a few months. It didn't work. The only compromise my gynecologist (at the time...I see a new one now) was willing to give me was an endometrial ablasion. I took it. And for five years, it did was it was supposed to do. But since that five year mark passed last fall, I've had nothing but pain and problems. Painful periods, mid-month cramping and spotting, pain and spotting after sex and, as I found out in February, ovarian cysts. This hasn't been some flighty "Oh, I think I'll have them remove my uterus today" decision. I've thought about it for most of my adult life. So, thank you for your concern, but I'm asking you to keep it to yourself at this point. You should all know by now how I approach my health, so to purposefully make a choice that makes me reliant on traditional medical treatment should tell you how serious I've taken this decision.

Anyway....today's appointment.

It was supposed to have been a follow-up, but they decided to get next week's exam out of the way today. When I explained the problems I've been having since my surgery, the doctor agreed that having a hysterectomy isn't out of the question.  After the exam (one he couldn't even complete because I was in so much pain with the poking and prodding), he decided that it was probably not a bad idea to pull out the plumbing. He did send me for an ultrasound, however, so "we know what we're dealing with and aren't going in blind like last time." He said when he got the results from everything back, he'd give me a call and we could discuss our options and how we're going to approach this (referring to the type of surgery it'll be, etc), which should be by Friday.

The ultrasound tech found quite a bit of junk. First off, she identified a fibroid on my uterine wall. She said it wasn't more than a few centimeters and probably wasn't causing the problems I've been having, but it was something to keep an eye on. She mentioned that because of the ablasion the lining did look a little rough. And, much to my surprise, she discovered a cyst on my left ovary that has grown fairly rapidly since my surgery in February when I was assured it was nothing. 

I'm angry.

I'm so angry right now. (You may want to look away if profanity offends you.)

I'm so pissed that my doctors didn't listen to me in '97. I'm pissed that they didn't listen to me in 2006. I'm pissed that they could've removed all this shit back in February. But not one person, with their medical fucking degrees, said "Oh. You know, she might know her body better than we do. I mean, we've got a Chilton's manual for how her engine is supposed to run, but she is the person who drives this car every day and probably knows what's going on." NOBODY for ONE fucking second stopped and said "This girl, who seems to know quite a bit about her body and the medical terms we've thrown at her over the years, do you think she might actually know something here?" NOBODY!!!

I'm also scared.

Not for myself and going under the knife again (that's a panic alllll its own - and not likely one I'll be sharing so publicly). I'm scared for what this news could mean for my daughter. How much of this mess is genetic? My mother's not even alive to ask what she had wrong that sent her for a hysterectomy at 36. Will this affect my baby girl? Will the path that my mother and I both have taken mean she's destined to take these same steps twenty years from now? I shudder at the thought.

I consider myself a pretty optimistic person when it comes to situations like these, so to feel these emotions so strongly right now is unfamiliar to me. I usually grab the bull by the horns and dare it to jerk away. Hell, usually I'm the bull. But having just come off this other surgery less than four months ago and heading into one that I'm sure will take twice as long to recover from has me feeling pretty hopeless. I hate that feeling.

But I plug on. And I'll get through it. I always do. I'm just not sure where the strength is gonna come from right now. My tank is pretty empty.

Although, if I have to look at the bright side, at least I won't have to start training for that 5k any time soon. :\