Feeling good!

I'm almost three weeks post-op and I feel great, other than being a little tired.

I worked out for the first time in about a year over the weekend and spent about 25 minutes on the treadmill. I know my cardio can't do much yet, so I'm truly taking baby steps to get to where I need to be.

I'm still pretty amazed at the difference in how I feel after this surgery compared to the last two. Even for as tired as I feel most days, it doesn't come close to matching the exhaustion I felt during those recovery periods.

I'll eventually start increasing my workouts, but until then, I'm content with walking and making changes here and there in my diet.

Goodbye, Planet Fatass

Joined the gym today. I'm buying new cross trainers this week.

Baby steps, but I *will* get there.

Day of Reckoning

I knew today would come eventually.

 I've been overweight most of my life and spent most of my life eating poorly. 

 While I haven't been diagnosed with diabetes, I have no doubts that I'm three months away from it. That's when my doctor wants to see me again. She noticed my fasting blood sugar on last Friday's labs was really high. She said it's a possibility that because of everything else going on with my health that it's a fluke and, though she didn't say it out loud, she's giving me three months to get my shit together. 

 I need to lose weight. Eat better. Exercise more. 

I know what I'm capable of doing and testing my own blood sugars, not to mention inject myself with insulin doesn't fall into that category. I. Can't. Do. It. That means I've got one option here and that's to stop doing what I'm doing and get my head out of my ass. 

 I refuse to spend the rest of my life on medication for something I know I can do. I've done it before. I dropped 40lbs in 2009 by exercising and eating better. Time for me to get back in gear and do what I need to do. 

Hubby isn't far off from a similar diagnosis himself, so the changes will be family-wide. Since the weather has been nicer than normal (and hopefully will stay that way), I plan on borrowing a bicycle and making use of the great trails we have around here. I will also be joining the gym this month. It also means cutting back on soda and continuing with not drinking sweet tea (it's been a week now since I last had sweet tea). 

Nothing profound has been discovered and I don't expect this post to surprise anyone, but I wanted to keep you in the loop. 

In surgical news, I'm doing fantastic. I've got very little pain, vaginal bleeding has almost stopped entirely and other than being tired a lot, I feel really good. This surgery has been so much different than the last two. I'm hoping that this has fixed the problem and I can finally move forward from here. Thanks again for your prayers, thoughts and encouragement. I appreciate it.

Third time's a Charm?

Cripes, I hope so!

Thanks to some lingering pain that couldn't be explained, despite eight months of doctor's office visits, I had my third surgery of the year today. It was "exploratory" and I was nervous about doing it, hoping that perhaps my kinesiologist could treat the symptoms. I debated on canceling it altogether, but decided on Thanksgiving that I would go ahead and have it done.

I met my insurance deductible after my first surgery in February, so really, it was kinda like a BOGO. (Okay, not really, but it was a considering factor.) My gynecologist did the surgery laparoscopically, so it was an outpatient procedure - also a considering factor. And, as pain came back at different times closer to the surgery date, I decided I needed to go through with it.

I'm glad I did.

The surgeon first did a vaginal cuff repair when he found excess scar tissue that was also causing problems. Then, with the laparoscope, he went inside and discovered that the exterior wall of my vagina had fused to my bowels in several spots during the healing process. He said that's not totally uncommon, as the body adapts to whatever it's nearest to, but it was uncommon for it to cause so much ongoing pain. He clipped them apart and cauterized both sets of tissue, so hopefully this has fixed the problem. He said my left ovary looks good (though to me, it looks cystic. I guess time will tell).

This surgery was much quicker than the other two and, so far, I'm recovering much better than I did before. It took six weeks to recover from my oophorectomy in February and while I pushed myself harder with my hysterectomy in May, I have had continual problems from reproductive, sexual and hormonal issues all the way to indirect issues like high blood pressure (most likely from being in constant pain), SI joint pain and intense depression from the constant state of feeling "broken." To say it's been one hell of a year is an understatement.

Already, though, I'm able to stand for short periods of time to go to the bathroom, make myself a sandwich and refill my water glass. With the first two surgeries, it was almost a week before I could get up from a laying position, but I've been getting myself up since the first hour I was home. I'm crampy, of course and it will take at least a month for the vaginal cuff repairs to fully heal, but I feel better today than I've felt in the last eight months.

Thank you to those who have been praying and sending me kind words. Your support, wishes and encouragement are very much appreciated.

This Woman's Worth

I was ten years old, I think when I experience my first serious bout of depression. I missed forty-five days of school that year.

Forty-five.

In 1984, they didn't diagnose children with mental health issues. If you were hyperactive, you were just in need of discipline. If you were a nail-biter, you were just high-strung and nervous. If you threw a tantrum out of anger, you were a spoiled brat. If you were sad, you just needed fresh air. If your attention span was short, you were just considered flighty.

My childhood tantrums were blamed on my parents' unwillingness to tell me no. My nail-biting was because my mother bit her nails, too and I didn't know better. In my teen years, grief was to blame for my sadness. That is what we did back then. Kids didn't take medication for issues like that. We certainly didn't go to counseling - that was for problem children.

Twenty-eight years is a long time to live with anxiety and depression. I thought I'd overcome it, actually. I gave up my Lexapro over six years ago, as a matter of fact. Turned to chiropractic care and herbal supplements as a path to better health - both physical and mental. Up until this last year, it was working wonderfully.

I'd love to be able to say it was this moment that led to this rocky slope. It was that moment. But the truth of the matter is, I can't pinpoint any specific thing. My sister was murdered. I had a falling out with my nephew and his wife. I lost a close friend without an explanation as to why. Doctors found a tumor the size of an orange on my ovary. I had a second surgery three months later to remove my uterus altogether. I've pushed people away. I've started fights. I've ended them. I've cried. I've ranted. I've thrown things. I've screamed. I've been silent.

The fact is this is the ugliest, meanest, most hideous battle I've ever fought and it's not over yet.

The fact is I don't sleep at night. And when I do, my slumber is riddled with nightmares.

The fact is I have every reason to be happy and, on the outside-looking-in, I am. 

But it's all bullshit.

I'm sad.

I'm angry.

I'm anxious.

I'm worried.

I'm nauseous.

I'm tense.

If you've ever dealt with anxiety or depression, you know how this feels. You know the weight I carry right now, but there are many of you who don't.

This is for you - and I hope you're listening - don't judge me. Don't tell me I need to cheer up. Or that I need to exercise. Or eat better. Or sleep more. Or pray. Or take medication. Or get out more. Or stay home more. Or surround myself with family. Or be grateful that I don't have something terminal. Or read self-help books. Or...or...or...

This is not a pretty disease, but just as you wouldn't tell someone with cancer to shake it off, please don't dismiss me so easily either. It hurts. More than you know.

Hyster-ical.

Okay, so really, it's not so funny, but if I don't laugh, I'll just end up crying.

Overshare is imminent, so consider yourself warned.

I'm almost five months post-op from my partial hysterectomy. I'm still in some pain and sex is out of the question entirely.

(On a separate note, THAT may be more to blame for these homicidal mood swings than anything else.)

Went to the gyno today. He said sometimes after a hysterectomy there is some granular tissue that doesn't heal like it should. Sometimes polyps develop as a result. He put me up in the saddle (Yee-haw! Not.) and checked me out. Sure enough. Granular tissue and a big ol' fat polyp.

Awesome.

He burned me alive (with silver nitrate) and sent me on my way. Told me to come back in two weeks. He may have to treat me again, but this should help alleviate the problem.

No sex til then. Yeah. Not a friggin' problem, doc.

I'm waving the white flag today, popping a tram and going to bed.

Keep you updated as time goes on.

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.