Today, SCOTUS made the decision that corporations could deny paying for birth control if they had a religious objection to it. Basically, the rights of corporations are more important than the women who work in them. It was a bad decision, handed down by old men who are all religious, people who would never be directly affected by this decision.
As a woman who diagnosed with uterine cancer, I am directly affected by it.
Back in January, when I had my massive bleeding happen, the only thing that stopped it was getting on birth control. It suppressed my ovaries enough to allow for the bleeding to subside. Past that, when I found out I had cancer, I was told that the birth control I was taking would insure the cancer didn't spread while I waited for things to line up so I could have my hysterectomy. So in two ways here, birth control assisted in saving my life.
Now that this decision has happened, every woman who is in the same situation I was in who happens to work at one of these places may not be so lucky. Oh, they can purchase birth control themselves, but let's face it, most companies don't pay a living wage as it is. Between everything else going on, they might not have the funds to get on some kind of chemical birth control. Their most likely option will be to just rely on condoms. Condoms should be used anyway, as they help prevent the spread of a lot of STDs, but they do nothing to regulate anyone's hormones. So that risk of cancer will still be there.
I have some strong convictions about things in life, opinions about what I choose to do and not to do. But whenever it comes to my convictions and they way they would touch the life of someone else, I always ask myself if my truths are more important than their well being. If my stance is going to impact someone in a negative way . . . if it will put their lives in danger or their future in jeopardy . . . then perhaps it is best if I take the back seat and let what is better for them be the way of things. Maybe it would be nice if others did that. It might mean some unwanted kids aren't born to a life of resentment. It might mean some people don't die of cancer.
Monday, June 30, 2014
Sunday, June 29, 2014
More Walking
I've been walking for several days now, but yesterday, I lengthened my walk for the first time since I began. It was hard, but it felt very good. Even though I was out of breath, it did wonders for my aching body. I'm quite happy I did it.
I needed that because now that I'm almost not even taking painkillers anymore, the pain has started to dictate a lot of my time. My stomach is swollen and my muscles hurt. This is worse at night and has made it difficult to sleep the last couple of nights.Well, one of the cats hasn't been helping. She keeps jumping on my belly and that feels horrible. Nothing makes life worse than having some cat wake you up every three hours.
However, despite the cat and the pain, I'm still trying to push forward. The increase in walking is a major part of that. I feel very powerful when I do it, like I'm actually making a huge and significant difference in my life.
I needed that because now that I'm almost not even taking painkillers anymore, the pain has started to dictate a lot of my time. My stomach is swollen and my muscles hurt. This is worse at night and has made it difficult to sleep the last couple of nights.Well, one of the cats hasn't been helping. She keeps jumping on my belly and that feels horrible. Nothing makes life worse than having some cat wake you up every three hours.
However, despite the cat and the pain, I'm still trying to push forward. The increase in walking is a major part of that. I feel very powerful when I do it, like I'm actually making a huge and significant difference in my life.
Friday, June 27, 2014
Friday Past
I think that the process of getting to leave a hospital is a lot like leaving the toddler years. You start out in a bed. You really can't do much for yourself. Most of the time, you just sleep. When you are awake, you drift in and out of reality. For a long while, in those first hours of healing, it is really all you can do. The world has changed. You went to sleep with one set of facts and you woke up with a new one. And, as I said, for a while, all you can do is accept that.
Eventually, however, it is time to make progress. After all, you don't want to stay in the hospital forever. This is the time to insure that you can do as well in life as anyone about to leave toddlerhood.
The first step is to see if you can feed yourself. It doesn't have to be complicated food. In my case, it wasn't even food I had to chew. Just cream of wheat and pudding. For lunch, I had a pureed veggie soup and pudding. You have no idea how happy I was that pudding was an option. It became the thing I looked most forward to. My sister-in-law had kept some bread sticks from Olive Garden and I ate those as well. A bit more solid than the other stuff. I had to actually chew and swallowing somewhat hurt my still damaged throat, but over all, still fairly simple compared to some foods.
The next step was walking. Even before they removed the catheter, I was expected to start walking again. Walking, honestly, wasn't that bad. Getting up out of the bed was very painful, but I did manage to do it. The worst part about the walking was feeling somewhat dizzy . . . and of course, the fear of tripping up in either my IV or my catheter. Neither is really a desirable outcome.
Finally, you have to be able to handle your bathroom situation. They removed the catheter and told me I needed to pee within the next four hours or they would have to put it back in. I'm sure you can guess how nervous I was at the prospect of it returning. I drank some water and gave myself a nice pep talk. I needed to urinate so I could leave this place. It was the last thing standing between me and freedom. It was the one thing that could keep me from having a simple, happy recovery time and a complicated one.
When I finally did go to the bathroom, everything went very well. I was told I could leave the place. I put on my clothes, called some friends, and waited for my freedom.
Of course, the ride home was awful. It probably did more damage to my body than anything else. Had the nurses seen the level of pain I was in when I stepped out of my SIL's van, they never would have let me go home. I could barely walk. I getting myself into the house took more effort than I thought I really had in me. When I finally made it to my bed, I laid there, feeling so much physical anguish that I considered that maybe coming home was a mistake.
It wasn't though. Pain subsides. Bodies heal. I'm still having issues, but they are no where near as bad as they were this time last week. I'm making progress and I'll well past the toddler stage of things. A week later, life is far better than it was.
Eventually, however, it is time to make progress. After all, you don't want to stay in the hospital forever. This is the time to insure that you can do as well in life as anyone about to leave toddlerhood.
The first step is to see if you can feed yourself. It doesn't have to be complicated food. In my case, it wasn't even food I had to chew. Just cream of wheat and pudding. For lunch, I had a pureed veggie soup and pudding. You have no idea how happy I was that pudding was an option. It became the thing I looked most forward to. My sister-in-law had kept some bread sticks from Olive Garden and I ate those as well. A bit more solid than the other stuff. I had to actually chew and swallowing somewhat hurt my still damaged throat, but over all, still fairly simple compared to some foods.
The next step was walking. Even before they removed the catheter, I was expected to start walking again. Walking, honestly, wasn't that bad. Getting up out of the bed was very painful, but I did manage to do it. The worst part about the walking was feeling somewhat dizzy . . . and of course, the fear of tripping up in either my IV or my catheter. Neither is really a desirable outcome.
Finally, you have to be able to handle your bathroom situation. They removed the catheter and told me I needed to pee within the next four hours or they would have to put it back in. I'm sure you can guess how nervous I was at the prospect of it returning. I drank some water and gave myself a nice pep talk. I needed to urinate so I could leave this place. It was the last thing standing between me and freedom. It was the one thing that could keep me from having a simple, happy recovery time and a complicated one.
When I finally did go to the bathroom, everything went very well. I was told I could leave the place. I put on my clothes, called some friends, and waited for my freedom.
Of course, the ride home was awful. It probably did more damage to my body than anything else. Had the nurses seen the level of pain I was in when I stepped out of my SIL's van, they never would have let me go home. I could barely walk. I getting myself into the house took more effort than I thought I really had in me. When I finally made it to my bed, I laid there, feeling so much physical anguish that I considered that maybe coming home was a mistake.
It wasn't though. Pain subsides. Bodies heal. I'm still having issues, but they are no where near as bad as they were this time last week. I'm making progress and I'll well past the toddler stage of things. A week later, life is far better than it was.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
A Week Later
It is remarkable the difference a week can make in your life. This time last week I was in the hospital, in a lot of pain, and trying to process the moment by moment disorientation of what was happening to me. I'd not eaten since 2:30 pm the day before. I had no idea if I would be able to go home the next day. In fact, I truly had my doubts that I would. I'd made a few phone calls to tell people I was alive, but that was the extent of what I was capable of doing.
Today, one week later, I felt well enough to go spend the day with my best friend. We laughed and watched Game of Thrones. I listened to her kid talk about the stuff he's into right now. I spent some time in car. It was the first time I'd been in a car since last Friday.
The world is very different than it was a week ago. Things may not be perfect. Complications could still happen. But there have certainly been improvements. Most importantly, I managed to survive. I lived through surgery and pain. I lived through meeting new people and facing a lot of unknowns. I lived through magnesium citrate. For that, I am both proud of myself and very, humbly thankful to those who helped me through it.
Here's to another week of healing.
Today, one week later, I felt well enough to go spend the day with my best friend. We laughed and watched Game of Thrones. I listened to her kid talk about the stuff he's into right now. I spent some time in car. It was the first time I'd been in a car since last Friday.
The world is very different than it was a week ago. Things may not be perfect. Complications could still happen. But there have certainly been improvements. Most importantly, I managed to survive. I lived through surgery and pain. I lived through meeting new people and facing a lot of unknowns. I lived through magnesium citrate. For that, I am both proud of myself and very, humbly thankful to those who helped me through it.
Here's to another week of healing.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
A Week Past the Night Before
Today I did my morning walk at the usual time and my afternoon walk around noon because I needed to shower later and wanted to make sure I had the strength to do so. It was almost like back in January when I'd have to schedule an hour around any kind of showering in order to have the strength to recover from it, only, truthfully, not as bad. Even after surgery, I'm still stronger than I was then. I have never been as weak as I was after all that blood loss.
Today was my first day of waiting a full 12 hours between doses. Tomorrow will be the same and then after that, I'm going to try to go to half pills. Hopefully I'll be off of the meds by Sunday. That's my goal, at any rate. As I've written before, the hell of dealing with the pain pills and the nervousness about them is almost worse than the pain itself. Almost worse, but in this case, certainly not truly worse.
Let's see. A week ago today, I was laying in a hotel room in Tulsa, just hours away from having to be up and at the hospital. I'd drank the magnesium citrate and thought, by 10:30, it had played itself out and there was nothing else left in my system. I was so, so wrong. I was very scared and trying my best not to think about things. It was very surreal to me. I couldn't believe I was actually going forward with the whole thing, that it was actually happening. I felt like I was out of control and truthfully, I basically was.
I have some more control now. As I wrote above, I can control my meds and my walking. I'm doing some minor stomach stretches to try and get strength that way. I'm doing my best to keep my mind in a good place.
I am very, very grateful I don't have surgery again tomorrow.
Today was my first day of waiting a full 12 hours between doses. Tomorrow will be the same and then after that, I'm going to try to go to half pills. Hopefully I'll be off of the meds by Sunday. That's my goal, at any rate. As I've written before, the hell of dealing with the pain pills and the nervousness about them is almost worse than the pain itself. Almost worse, but in this case, certainly not truly worse.
Let's see. A week ago today, I was laying in a hotel room in Tulsa, just hours away from having to be up and at the hospital. I'd drank the magnesium citrate and thought, by 10:30, it had played itself out and there was nothing else left in my system. I was so, so wrong. I was very scared and trying my best not to think about things. It was very surreal to me. I couldn't believe I was actually going forward with the whole thing, that it was actually happening. I felt like I was out of control and truthfully, I basically was.
I have some more control now. As I wrote above, I can control my meds and my walking. I'm doing some minor stomach stretches to try and get strength that way. I'm doing my best to keep my mind in a good place.
I am very, very grateful I don't have surgery again tomorrow.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Tuesday Past
A week ago tonight, I was preparing for my trip to Tulsa. My bags were mostly packed and I'd done everything I could here in the house. I'd said my peace to the cats. I knew that I would soon be facing the unknown.
It was a scary night for me. There was a possibility I wouldn't return. It wasn't a huge chance, but it was there. I didn't know how the magnesium citrate would affect me. I didn't know how I would be treated once I was at the hospital. And I certainly didn't know how I would handle the surgery. All of this was still up in the air.
A week later, I am past all of that. No more trips to Tulsa for a few weeks. No more doctors or nurses looking at me for a while. Now I have only cuts and empty areas and some pain. All of the questions haven't been answered. I still don't know if I'll have to do radiation or not. But at least this first part is finished. I am happier this week than I am this time last week.
It was a scary night for me. There was a possibility I wouldn't return. It wasn't a huge chance, but it was there. I didn't know how the magnesium citrate would affect me. I didn't know how I would be treated once I was at the hospital. And I certainly didn't know how I would handle the surgery. All of this was still up in the air.
A week later, I am past all of that. No more trips to Tulsa for a few weeks. No more doctors or nurses looking at me for a while. Now I have only cuts and empty areas and some pain. All of the questions haven't been answered. I still don't know if I'll have to do radiation or not. But at least this first part is finished. I am happier this week than I am this time last week.
Monday, June 23, 2014
Empty
I was talking to my uncle tonight and asking him for more details about what my doctor said after the surgery. I was out of it and wanted to make sure everything that needed to be accomplished had been. My uncle said that the doctor said I was empty now.
I'm not sure that is the word the doctor used, but it is the word that has been playing through my mind ever since. Empty. Empty. I suppose it's true, really. In the need to have this cancer out of me, in the need to stop the threat of bleeding and the threat of possible death, the magnitude of what this also means has been on the back burner.
It's not so much that I've lost my ability to have children. I have processed that, I believe. It's more that I have lost parts of myself that have been with me since before I was born. Parts of me are gone now. Having the lipoma removed wasn't emotional. It was something that grew on my body later in life. But these elements developed when I was still in the womb. They served a purpose. They could have linked me to new generations. Now all of that is gone.
Parts of me are gone.
I am still on the mend. I am still walking. I'm doing my best to taper my meds so that the end of them doesn't hit me as hard. I am in the process of recovery. And I think for a while, I'll also be in the process of mourning.
I'm not sure that is the word the doctor used, but it is the word that has been playing through my mind ever since. Empty. Empty. I suppose it's true, really. In the need to have this cancer out of me, in the need to stop the threat of bleeding and the threat of possible death, the magnitude of what this also means has been on the back burner.
It's not so much that I've lost my ability to have children. I have processed that, I believe. It's more that I have lost parts of myself that have been with me since before I was born. Parts of me are gone now. Having the lipoma removed wasn't emotional. It was something that grew on my body later in life. But these elements developed when I was still in the womb. They served a purpose. They could have linked me to new generations. Now all of that is gone.
Parts of me are gone.
I am still on the mend. I am still walking. I'm doing my best to taper my meds so that the end of them doesn't hit me as hard. I am in the process of recovery. And I think for a while, I'll also be in the process of mourning.
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Progress
I slept most of the night, waking up only to take meds. I was awake about an hour after that, but this is far better than waking up every half hour in pain. Trust me, it's much much better. The better sleep I get, the more I will heal. I noticed with my lipoma surgery that things always looked far better after a good night of sleep. I am assuming the same is true in this situation.
I'm moving my meds to every six hours. I tried to do it yesterday, but that just would not happen. Even today, I'm not sure it was the best thing to do, but I'm trying anyway. Hopefully by tomorrow, I can move to every eight hours. Then every twelve. We'll see. A lot of that is going to depend on how the pain levels out over the next few days. I'm working on that though.
This morning and again this afternoon, I walked the driveway. I won't say it was pleasant or easy, but I did it. The more walking I can do, the stronger my abdominal muscles will be and the quicker I can get the inflammation out of my system. This will also hopefully contribute to everything inside of me deciding where it will not live given that a cantaloupe-sized uterus has been removed. I'm guessing that a lot of the lingering pain is due to this redistribution of organ placement. The faster we get everything back in place, the happier my body will be.
Aside from that, I'm doing my best just to take things easy and relax. Emotionally, I've been through a lot over the last several months. If I have to do radiation, that will be even more emotional hell. So for now, I just need to try and be positive and focus on what progress I am capable of making. Right now, that's about all I can do.
I'm moving my meds to every six hours. I tried to do it yesterday, but that just would not happen. Even today, I'm not sure it was the best thing to do, but I'm trying anyway. Hopefully by tomorrow, I can move to every eight hours. Then every twelve. We'll see. A lot of that is going to depend on how the pain levels out over the next few days. I'm working on that though.
This morning and again this afternoon, I walked the driveway. I won't say it was pleasant or easy, but I did it. The more walking I can do, the stronger my abdominal muscles will be and the quicker I can get the inflammation out of my system. This will also hopefully contribute to everything inside of me deciding where it will not live given that a cantaloupe-sized uterus has been removed. I'm guessing that a lot of the lingering pain is due to this redistribution of organ placement. The faster we get everything back in place, the happier my body will be.
Aside from that, I'm doing my best just to take things easy and relax. Emotionally, I've been through a lot over the last several months. If I have to do radiation, that will be even more emotional hell. So for now, I just need to try and be positive and focus on what progress I am capable of making. Right now, that's about all I can do.
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Home
Well, it's several days later and I'm back home. The surgery went mostly well-ish. My uterus was the size of a cantaloupe, and had to be sectioned out of my body. There is a small possibility that cancer cells could have broken free and into my vagina, meaning that I will have to have localized vaginal radiation. That sounds pretty horrible. It probably is. Still, it's better than cancer.
All things considered, it's probably better than having the c-section as well. I'm in ungodly amounts of pain just from five cuts on my belly. I can't even imagine what level of pain I'd be in if I had a larger incision. Part of the problem with that is the fact that when I was being transferred from one bed to another, my right side was pulled on fairly hard and injured. So not only do I have pain from the hysterectomy, but also pain from having my body treated roughly. I'm not happy about that, but I really don't blame anyone. I'm a difficult patient to move.
The ride home was very rough. Two hours of travel in a car is not something you should do after major surgery. By the time we got home, I was in, quite literally, more pain than I have ever been in my life. It was really the first time I questioned whether or not I could make it through this. However, some sleep and pain meds later and things were better.
Today I'm taking it easy. I'm eating simple food and trying to walk around the house some to start putting things back into their new places. One of my incision places is pretty bruised up, but I'm hoping it goes down with more walking.
I'll keep you updated.
All things considered, it's probably better than having the c-section as well. I'm in ungodly amounts of pain just from five cuts on my belly. I can't even imagine what level of pain I'd be in if I had a larger incision. Part of the problem with that is the fact that when I was being transferred from one bed to another, my right side was pulled on fairly hard and injured. So not only do I have pain from the hysterectomy, but also pain from having my body treated roughly. I'm not happy about that, but I really don't blame anyone. I'm a difficult patient to move.
The ride home was very rough. Two hours of travel in a car is not something you should do after major surgery. By the time we got home, I was in, quite literally, more pain than I have ever been in my life. It was really the first time I questioned whether or not I could make it through this. However, some sleep and pain meds later and things were better.
Today I'm taking it easy. I'm eating simple food and trying to walk around the house some to start putting things back into their new places. One of my incision places is pretty bruised up, but I'm hoping it goes down with more walking.
I'll keep you updated.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
The Night Before
We arrived at the hotel somewhat early. It is a bit sketchy. There are no decent outlets and the bathroom is tiny. I had to move a chair into the middle of the room in order to get access for my CPAP. I will probably have to sleep at the other end of the bed to reach it, but that's okay.
I am pretty terrified about the surgery. In some ways, it is best that I am in a room alone, but in other ways, that is making it worse. I tried to distract myself with tv. It helped some. Maybe I will listen to music for a while.
Anyway, tomorrow is the big day. For better or worse, I go under the knife to have my uterus removed. By this time tomorrow night, I will have answers to all of the big What Ifs. I hope my answers are good.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Day Before Tulsa
I packed up the rest of my stuff today. As of now, the only thing I have left to pack is my CPAP. Everything else is accounted for and hopefully it will make it from the hotel back into my bags. I'm pretty certain I can manage that, as I plan to get everything BACK into the bags before I go to bed. Wake up will be 4AM after all. Eeeeee.....
I went to therapy today and then to the doctor. Both of these appointments went well, though I did find myself very exhausted afterwards. Maybe that is a good thing though. Perhaps I can sleep tonight. I really need to sleep. But as I've written before, if I don't sleep, it's okay. Eventually, the sleep will catch up with me.
From now until I'm not sure when, posts may be a bit iffy. I'm not sure as to the status of wifi tomorrow night and I'm not sure how I'll feel the day after. We'll see. If it takes me a while to start blogging again, don't worry. I will get back to this when I can. If I can't get back to it for some reason, I'll have my roommate to write a farewell post for me. That's all I can do, I suppose.
Wish me luck.
I went to therapy today and then to the doctor. Both of these appointments went well, though I did find myself very exhausted afterwards. Maybe that is a good thing though. Perhaps I can sleep tonight. I really need to sleep. But as I've written before, if I don't sleep, it's okay. Eventually, the sleep will catch up with me.
From now until I'm not sure when, posts may be a bit iffy. I'm not sure as to the status of wifi tomorrow night and I'm not sure how I'll feel the day after. We'll see. If it takes me a while to start blogging again, don't worry. I will get back to this when I can. If I can't get back to it for some reason, I'll have my roommate to write a farewell post for me. That's all I can do, I suppose.
Wish me luck.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Monday before Surgery
My doctor called today to confirm my appointment. We went over the details of what would be happening again and talked about what I needed to be doing in the meantime. It was good of him to call and good for him not to be telling me that things had gone sideways.What was LESS good happened a few hours later. They moved my surgery up an hour, which means I have to be AT the hospital by 5:30 in the morning. This means I'm going to have to be awake at something like FOUR.
Sigh. Oh well, as I have tried to do with all parts of this Adventure I Did Not Want, I'm trying to look on the bright side. For one thing, I will probably be awake at four that morning anyway, because I doubt I'll be getting much sleep. So that shouldn't be a problem. Secondly, that means I am one hour closer to midnight when I stopped drinking. This means I am less likely to be dehydrated and therefore MORE likely to have my IV put in without any problems. Another advantage to this is that I'll hopefully be out of surgery earlier. If something goes wrong, maybe it can be corrected in a more timely fashion and I can still go home the next day. The sooner this is over, the better.
It's been six weeks since the surgery to remove the lipoma. I have fairly much adjusted to life without it. It is healing well, though I still have some broken skin from the spitting stitches. They're less of a problem than they were a few weeks ago. The scar is pretty massive, but I'm good with that. I can't wait to see how it looks in another six weeks.
Speaking of another six weeks, even if I have the c-section, I'm trying to focus on the fact that six weeks from that, I should be more or less healed from it. I may not be completely back to where I was, but it should be considerably easier to get around. Time. All of this just takes time. I just have to remember time will keep me healing.
Sigh. Oh well, as I have tried to do with all parts of this Adventure I Did Not Want, I'm trying to look on the bright side. For one thing, I will probably be awake at four that morning anyway, because I doubt I'll be getting much sleep. So that shouldn't be a problem. Secondly, that means I am one hour closer to midnight when I stopped drinking. This means I am less likely to be dehydrated and therefore MORE likely to have my IV put in without any problems. Another advantage to this is that I'll hopefully be out of surgery earlier. If something goes wrong, maybe it can be corrected in a more timely fashion and I can still go home the next day. The sooner this is over, the better.
It's been six weeks since the surgery to remove the lipoma. I have fairly much adjusted to life without it. It is healing well, though I still have some broken skin from the spitting stitches. They're less of a problem than they were a few weeks ago. The scar is pretty massive, but I'm good with that. I can't wait to see how it looks in another six weeks.
Speaking of another six weeks, even if I have the c-section, I'm trying to focus on the fact that six weeks from that, I should be more or less healed from it. I may not be completely back to where I was, but it should be considerably easier to get around. Time. All of this just takes time. I just have to remember time will keep me healing.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Two Days Til Tulsa
Tomorrow is Monday, meaning I have only two days before I have to go to Tulsa. Two days before things will change, in, hopefully, better ways for me. Two days. Wow, that's scary. I remember when it was like three weeks. I felt more comfortable with three weeks. I felt more comfortable when it was farther down the road and I could just coast through some time without really having to face the reality of it. Though, to be honest, I doubt I'm facing the reality of it even now.
I probably won't make a lot of sense tomorrow or Tuesday. I'm spending the day tomorrow just trying to finalize anything that needs to be finalized. I'll make a list of stuff that needs to be brought with me and double check said list with my roommate. I'm so thankful I have someone here who will do those things with me. Otherwise, I'd just be a basket case. Once I have the list, I'll gather the things that can be packed in advance and pack them. The stuff that has to wait until Wednesday morning (like my CPAP and my phone) will wait until then.
Tuesday, I go to therapy at one and then to see my regular doctor at three. This should just be normal, routine stuff. When I get home from that, I'll double check things and then try to calmly spend my last evening with my roommate . . . well, you know, until I get back from the hospital.
Again, all thoughts and well wishes will be appreciated. Honestly, I could use them even now. It might help me to sleep.
I probably won't make a lot of sense tomorrow or Tuesday. I'm spending the day tomorrow just trying to finalize anything that needs to be finalized. I'll make a list of stuff that needs to be brought with me and double check said list with my roommate. I'm so thankful I have someone here who will do those things with me. Otherwise, I'd just be a basket case. Once I have the list, I'll gather the things that can be packed in advance and pack them. The stuff that has to wait until Wednesday morning (like my CPAP and my phone) will wait until then.
Tuesday, I go to therapy at one and then to see my regular doctor at three. This should just be normal, routine stuff. When I get home from that, I'll double check things and then try to calmly spend my last evening with my roommate . . . well, you know, until I get back from the hospital.
Again, all thoughts and well wishes will be appreciated. Honestly, I could use them even now. It might help me to sleep.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Undeserving
Yesterday, my dad drove me to Tulsa so I could have my pre-op appointment. The trip up there was easy and my directions were more or less functional. We didn't end up exactly the part of the hospital I wanted, but close enough. I had to do more stuff for this pre-op than I did the last one. Then again, I guess more tests are needed when you're having a hysterectomy. I had to sign a consent form acknowledging the fact that I knew I would soon be sterile.
As we were driving home, I felt this kind of gnawing chaos growing in my mind. I couldn't really pin down why because everything had gone so well. By the time we were home and Dad had gone on his way, I felt like one big raw nerve. I wanted to cry. I wanted to hide in my room. I felt vulnerable and exposed and kind of broken. Most of all, I just feel nervous and undeserving. It was the sense of being undeserving that has stayed with me sense.
It is such a NICE hospital. And my doctor is such a NICE doctor. And having my hysterectomy and no more cancer is such a NICE thought. It is just more nice than I believe I deserve. It's more nice than I expect I will be allowed to have. I believe it will slip through my fingers.
They'll call on Monday and tell me that my insurance has decided not to cover it. They'll call me on Monday and saw my pre-op tests revealed stuff that make me unfit for surgery. I'll be told my heart is too screwed up for me to have surgery, so that has to be fixed first. Or I'll be told I have some other form of cancer that is far advanced and there is no point in having the surgery because I'm just going to die soon anyway.
Everything will get canceled and I'll be left with my Cancer Uterus. And even if I can manage to fix whatever problem happens to arise that will keep me from letting this happen, I will have exhausted my resources and my loved ones to the point where even if people wanted to help me, they just can't anymore.
Deep down, I don't believe I deserve this. I don't believe I can be helped. I don't believe I will get better or that things could possibly go smoothly or work out in my favor. And so my mind just reels with all the possibilities. My brain just tosses the problems around and whispers to me about my failings and my issues and how nothing will happen in a way that is beneficial for me. I had this chance for things to get better, but it will slip through my fingers as I fall into a pit of something worse.
Part of me thinks this is what I deserve. I really hope that part of me gets cut out with all the other cancerous bits.
As we were driving home, I felt this kind of gnawing chaos growing in my mind. I couldn't really pin down why because everything had gone so well. By the time we were home and Dad had gone on his way, I felt like one big raw nerve. I wanted to cry. I wanted to hide in my room. I felt vulnerable and exposed and kind of broken. Most of all, I just feel nervous and undeserving. It was the sense of being undeserving that has stayed with me sense.
It is such a NICE hospital. And my doctor is such a NICE doctor. And having my hysterectomy and no more cancer is such a NICE thought. It is just more nice than I believe I deserve. It's more nice than I expect I will be allowed to have. I believe it will slip through my fingers.
They'll call on Monday and tell me that my insurance has decided not to cover it. They'll call me on Monday and saw my pre-op tests revealed stuff that make me unfit for surgery. I'll be told my heart is too screwed up for me to have surgery, so that has to be fixed first. Or I'll be told I have some other form of cancer that is far advanced and there is no point in having the surgery because I'm just going to die soon anyway.
Everything will get canceled and I'll be left with my Cancer Uterus. And even if I can manage to fix whatever problem happens to arise that will keep me from letting this happen, I will have exhausted my resources and my loved ones to the point where even if people wanted to help me, they just can't anymore.
Deep down, I don't believe I deserve this. I don't believe I can be helped. I don't believe I will get better or that things could possibly go smoothly or work out in my favor. And so my mind just reels with all the possibilities. My brain just tosses the problems around and whispers to me about my failings and my issues and how nothing will happen in a way that is beneficial for me. I had this chance for things to get better, but it will slip through my fingers as I fall into a pit of something worse.
Part of me thinks this is what I deserve. I really hope that part of me gets cut out with all the other cancerous bits.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
One Week Until
A week from today, as I am writing this blog (assuming I am in any shape to write), I will have many answers that I do not have now. I will know if the cancer has spread outside of my uterus. I will know if I can walk away the next day with very little consequence, or if I will have to spend six weeks recovering from a cut in my stomach. I will know what it means to sleep in yet another hospital. I will know what it means to be vulnerable in front of yet even more people. Most of all, I will know how much more of this I have to handle.
I have my HOPES about how that will go. I'll get there in the morning, be taken to the pre-op area, get an IV started with no problems, have my surgery with no problems, and then sleep in the hospital as I recover from what was a pretty simple procedure. HOWEVER, it has been my experience that surgeries and I do not often go as planned. They usually take many hours longer than they should. They usually have weird, unforeseen complications. They usually just don't work the way I wanted them to work. I need to be realistic and assume this one will happen that way as well. I'm just hoping it doesn't go tragically wrong.
Tomorrow, my father is driving me to Tulsa for the pre-op appointment. I'm not looking forward to this. Logically, it shouldn't be that big of a deal. I'm just stressing because it's an unknown place and I'll have to meet a lot of new people. I'll feel like I'm being judged and found lacking, even though I am pretty sure I'm no more than just one more face to them. They see so many people. One more fat woman won't make that much of an impression.
I'm coming to this point in the process where I just need to move from moment to moment. I need to let my ego go and just drift through the next week, doing the things I have been instructed and advised to do, and let my mind just go. I think it will be the best way to get through all of this. At least, I hope it will.
If you are out there reading this, keep me in your thoughts, please. I'll probably need that.
I have my HOPES about how that will go. I'll get there in the morning, be taken to the pre-op area, get an IV started with no problems, have my surgery with no problems, and then sleep in the hospital as I recover from what was a pretty simple procedure. HOWEVER, it has been my experience that surgeries and I do not often go as planned. They usually take many hours longer than they should. They usually have weird, unforeseen complications. They usually just don't work the way I wanted them to work. I need to be realistic and assume this one will happen that way as well. I'm just hoping it doesn't go tragically wrong.
Tomorrow, my father is driving me to Tulsa for the pre-op appointment. I'm not looking forward to this. Logically, it shouldn't be that big of a deal. I'm just stressing because it's an unknown place and I'll have to meet a lot of new people. I'll feel like I'm being judged and found lacking, even though I am pretty sure I'm no more than just one more face to them. They see so many people. One more fat woman won't make that much of an impression.
I'm coming to this point in the process where I just need to move from moment to moment. I need to let my ego go and just drift through the next week, doing the things I have been instructed and advised to do, and let my mind just go. I think it will be the best way to get through all of this. At least, I hope it will.
If you are out there reading this, keep me in your thoughts, please. I'll probably need that.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Cookie Compromises
Today it came to light that some politician from Moore, Oklahoma has been saying that gay people should be stoned to death, like they were in the Bible. I could write the whole post about how this man clearly didn't read the part later in the book when Jesus talks about how only people who haven't sinned should be casting stones, but I won't. Instead, I'm going to talk about how extreme views are ruining politics.
These stoning comments come just the day after Eric Cantor lost his primary race to a man named Brat. I have no idea why anyone would think someone with the last name of Brat would be a decent politician, but there you go. The Tea Party elected Brat because they felt Cantor compromised too much. Compromised. Do these people not realize that governments basically run off of the art of compromise? People have to make some concessions to the other side. They may not get everything they want, but if they don't, they will get NOTHING that they want. That is the nature of how this works.
Extreme views aren't going to persuade people to your side and getting more people on your side is what you need if you want to win an election. When you don't have a clear majority of people who believe like you do, then you have to find ways to get other people to join the cause. It isn't usually extreme perspectives that will do this.
Here is an example. Let's say you wanted to sell a dozen cookies. You really needed the money to do this in order to pay your rent. You know that most people like chocolate chip cookies, but you, personally, don't like them at all. Instead, you like spice cookies with lots of clove in them. You have a choice. You can either yield to what most people like and make the chocolate chip cookies . . . or you can do what YOU like and make the clove ones. If you decide to make the common chocolate chip cookies, you may feel like you have compromised, but you will also, more than likely, sell all of them. If you make the clove cookies, because that is what you feel you should do in your heart . . . well, you will probably end up with very little money and a lot of cookies to eat by yourself.
So as it stands, the guy from Moore will never get my vote. Any politician who is against gay people having the same rights and protections as everyone else will never get my vote. I don't care how great your standing is on every other topic, you have chosen to be against the people I love. In some cases, you want to kill the people I love. Your extremist view has shut down the conversation. You can prance around and say you don't need me, but if there are enough people who feel the way I do, you're going to lose. If you cannot compromise and decide to not actively work against citizens of your own country, you're going to lose.
I know I've said this before, but why can't people pick out politicians who seem moderate and reasonable? Why can't they find ones who are willing to work with all sides, look at all views, and accept that everyone who lives here is equal. That was kind of the point in founding this country. Why is it so hard to accept it?
These stoning comments come just the day after Eric Cantor lost his primary race to a man named Brat. I have no idea why anyone would think someone with the last name of Brat would be a decent politician, but there you go. The Tea Party elected Brat because they felt Cantor compromised too much. Compromised. Do these people not realize that governments basically run off of the art of compromise? People have to make some concessions to the other side. They may not get everything they want, but if they don't, they will get NOTHING that they want. That is the nature of how this works.
Extreme views aren't going to persuade people to your side and getting more people on your side is what you need if you want to win an election. When you don't have a clear majority of people who believe like you do, then you have to find ways to get other people to join the cause. It isn't usually extreme perspectives that will do this.
Here is an example. Let's say you wanted to sell a dozen cookies. You really needed the money to do this in order to pay your rent. You know that most people like chocolate chip cookies, but you, personally, don't like them at all. Instead, you like spice cookies with lots of clove in them. You have a choice. You can either yield to what most people like and make the chocolate chip cookies . . . or you can do what YOU like and make the clove ones. If you decide to make the common chocolate chip cookies, you may feel like you have compromised, but you will also, more than likely, sell all of them. If you make the clove cookies, because that is what you feel you should do in your heart . . . well, you will probably end up with very little money and a lot of cookies to eat by yourself.
So as it stands, the guy from Moore will never get my vote. Any politician who is against gay people having the same rights and protections as everyone else will never get my vote. I don't care how great your standing is on every other topic, you have chosen to be against the people I love. In some cases, you want to kill the people I love. Your extremist view has shut down the conversation. You can prance around and say you don't need me, but if there are enough people who feel the way I do, you're going to lose. If you cannot compromise and decide to not actively work against citizens of your own country, you're going to lose.
I know I've said this before, but why can't people pick out politicians who seem moderate and reasonable? Why can't they find ones who are willing to work with all sides, look at all views, and accept that everyone who lives here is equal. That was kind of the point in founding this country. Why is it so hard to accept it?
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Blast from the Past
When I went to drop off my roommate's mail, I saw a former classmate at the mailbox place. We talked for a little over five minutes and I was fairly impressed that I was able to stand/talk and not be out of breath or in too much pain because of it. Yes, I know a lot of you can do that for far longer. Consider what life would be like if you couldn't, but suddenly found that you could.
The thing is, the former classmate looked no different to me. Whatever age has hit her over the years just didn't register in my eyes. I guess it's because when you see people you've not seen for a long time, you only see the familiar. When it is someone you see every day, you see the signs of aging. I look far older now that I did even before my surgeries began. I'm not sure why, but I look so old to me now. Maybe I'll look less old when I have a nice haircut and a dyejob.
Actually, the haircut/dyejob was supposed to happen a few months ago. I'm glad it didn't though. I really see no reason to dye my hair until I find out if I have to do chemo. If I'm going to lose the hair, there is no point in dying it. It's a strange thing to type that and know it is the reality of your life now. This is my reality. Possible chemo. Possible long battle with cancer. Mind you, with uterine cancer, having it spread (especially as early as I caught it) is unlikely. We'll see.
Anyway, it was good to see her. She's not on Facebook and so it's literally been over 20 years since I've spoken to her. It's funny how that stuff happens. It was kind of nice that she didn't ask me all kinds of questions like what I was doing with my life and if I had kids. I'm used to answering all of that, but it's really nice not to HAVE to answer all of it.
The thing is, the former classmate looked no different to me. Whatever age has hit her over the years just didn't register in my eyes. I guess it's because when you see people you've not seen for a long time, you only see the familiar. When it is someone you see every day, you see the signs of aging. I look far older now that I did even before my surgeries began. I'm not sure why, but I look so old to me now. Maybe I'll look less old when I have a nice haircut and a dyejob.
Actually, the haircut/dyejob was supposed to happen a few months ago. I'm glad it didn't though. I really see no reason to dye my hair until I find out if I have to do chemo. If I'm going to lose the hair, there is no point in dying it. It's a strange thing to type that and know it is the reality of your life now. This is my reality. Possible chemo. Possible long battle with cancer. Mind you, with uterine cancer, having it spread (especially as early as I caught it) is unlikely. We'll see.
Anyway, it was good to see her. She's not on Facebook and so it's literally been over 20 years since I've spoken to her. It's funny how that stuff happens. It was kind of nice that she didn't ask me all kinds of questions like what I was doing with my life and if I had kids. I'm used to answering all of that, but it's really nice not to HAVE to answer all of it.
Monday, June 9, 2014
Time Healing Wounds
The major worrisome part of the scar on my arm as been the place where the three points of the "T" shape join. My doctor was worried that it might not heal, so of course I was worried that it might not heal. For weeks now, it has been covered in scabs and shrouded in mystery. What would be under there? I really had no way of knowing. My only recourse was to just give it time and not mess with it.
The scab was deep and has come off in stages, parts at a time breaking away to reveal more questions underneath. Two weeks ago, when I started spitting stitches, another large portion of the scab had fallen off, and much to my dismay, I could see stitches sticking out from it. I was not happy about this because many of my other spitting stitches haven't been polite and just quietly waited out their time to be removed. They've erupted my skin, leaving blood and other unpleasantness in their wake. I really didn't need that happening from the most vulnerable part of my scar.
This evening, the scab finally decided it was time to fall completely off. When it did, a stitch was embedded in part of it . . .curiously, this stitch didn't look like it had been tied off. About twenty minutes later, the other stitch in this area also fell out. Enough of it had been dissolved on the inside to allow it to just slip on into the world.
The area feels odd. It still has a lot of pinkness to it and looks like it could use a few more layers of skin, but it isn't open or bleeding or anything. It might surprise me and erupt with more stitches, but I'm really hoping it doesn't. Maybe this part can just be healed and happy. That would be quite nice.
The scab was deep and has come off in stages, parts at a time breaking away to reveal more questions underneath. Two weeks ago, when I started spitting stitches, another large portion of the scab had fallen off, and much to my dismay, I could see stitches sticking out from it. I was not happy about this because many of my other spitting stitches haven't been polite and just quietly waited out their time to be removed. They've erupted my skin, leaving blood and other unpleasantness in their wake. I really didn't need that happening from the most vulnerable part of my scar.
This evening, the scab finally decided it was time to fall completely off. When it did, a stitch was embedded in part of it . . .curiously, this stitch didn't look like it had been tied off. About twenty minutes later, the other stitch in this area also fell out. Enough of it had been dissolved on the inside to allow it to just slip on into the world.
The area feels odd. It still has a lot of pinkness to it and looks like it could use a few more layers of skin, but it isn't open or bleeding or anything. It might surprise me and erupt with more stitches, but I'm really hoping it doesn't. Maybe this part can just be healed and happy. That would be quite nice.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Two Year Posts
Just for fun, I looked back to see what I'd written about on the 8th of June in the last two years. Last year, I wrote about wire tapping. The year before that, I wrote about some sinus cold I had. In the wire tapping one, I talked about how I actually felt sorry for the people who had to listen to all of our phone calls because most of our phone calls are probably deeply mundane. In the sinus post,I just felt sorry for myself.
And honestly, given what is happening with me now, all of that seems really trivial. A lot of things seem really trivial right now, to be honest. When you're facing major surgery for cancer in your woman parts, it's almost like there is this very narrow tunnel of reality that has you on one end and Very Horrible Things on the other. It feels like that is all there is to the world, everything else is just a momentary distraction from the fact that your body is trying to kill you.
I have to wonder if I'll ever feel secure again. Will there be more cancer? Will it come back in two years or five? Will I be like my grandmother and think I'm safe from it, only to have it show up when I'm old and can do almost nothing about it? I feel like a time bomb and I don't know how to stop feeling that way. I wish I did.
And honestly, given what is happening with me now, all of that seems really trivial. A lot of things seem really trivial right now, to be honest. When you're facing major surgery for cancer in your woman parts, it's almost like there is this very narrow tunnel of reality that has you on one end and Very Horrible Things on the other. It feels like that is all there is to the world, everything else is just a momentary distraction from the fact that your body is trying to kill you.
I have to wonder if I'll ever feel secure again. Will there be more cancer? Will it come back in two years or five? Will I be like my grandmother and think I'm safe from it, only to have it show up when I'm old and can do almost nothing about it? I feel like a time bomb and I don't know how to stop feeling that way. I wish I did.
Friday, June 6, 2014
Rainy and Productive Friday
Assuming no one gets hurt or sick over the next few weeks, I think I have all of my travel arrangements made. I am very grateful for these arrangements and humbled by the assistance and offers I have been given. Uterine cancer may be a horrible thing, but I have some loving people around me. Thank you. All of you. You have no idea what this means to me. It is difficult to even describe the kind of thankfulness I feel right now. It really means a lot.
Today was also a day of rain and discomfort. My spitting stitches are driving me crazy. I want them out in the same way you want a loose tooth to get out of your mouth. You know the moments when it's pulled out will be painful, but you also know there will be a lot of relief when it is over. It really needs to be over soon.
Aside from my arm's discomfort, the rest of the day was nice. We went shopping and then watched it get really dark. By the time the rain hit, it was black outside. I love sleeping during afternoon rain, which was exactly what I did today. It was pretty blissful. I think I'll rest well tonight knowing my travel stuff is handled. It's good to have plans in place, especially when it comes to something like surgery.
I hope everyone has a happy weekend.
Today was also a day of rain and discomfort. My spitting stitches are driving me crazy. I want them out in the same way you want a loose tooth to get out of your mouth. You know the moments when it's pulled out will be painful, but you also know there will be a lot of relief when it is over. It really needs to be over soon.
Aside from my arm's discomfort, the rest of the day was nice. We went shopping and then watched it get really dark. By the time the rain hit, it was black outside. I love sleeping during afternoon rain, which was exactly what I did today. It was pretty blissful. I think I'll rest well tonight knowing my travel stuff is handled. It's good to have plans in place, especially when it comes to something like surgery.
I hope everyone has a happy weekend.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Two Weeks Until
Two weeks from tonight, I will know my fate. I will know if I still have cancer, even after the removal of my uterus. I will know if I will need more treatment, such as chemo or radiation. I will know if I had to have everything c sectioned from my body, meaning a longer and more painful recovery. I will know if there were complications that are going to affect my life from now on. Two weeks from now, a lot of questions will be answered. I may not like those answers, but I will have them. In this situation, knowing is far better than not knowing.
It is strange to think about. Two weeks from now, I won't be sitting here, in the comfort of my own home, typing to you about what is going on. I'll be in another city, in a hospital bed, vulnerable to the people around me. I'll probably still be hooked to an IV. I'll probably need assistance if I have to get up. I'll probably feel on display and frightened and want nothing more than to be back in my own home. I'll do my best not to cause problems for the people tending to me. I may not have a lot of control over that. I may not have a lot of control over anything.
Some questions have been answered about travel arrangements. I'm happy with the answers and grateful for how things are going in that department. I'm also grateful for this weekend, because this weekend is happening Before Things Get Serious. I'm going to do my best to try and make this weekend smooth and relaxing. I'm hoping for as little stress as possible and will be very grateful to all people and all the universe if they can help me make that happen.
Next week, some items have to be bought in preparation for my surgery. There is a washing ritual I will need to begin a week before, involving keeping my abdomen as free of any contaminants as possible. Friday of next week, I go to my pre-opp appointment. It will be the first time I see the hospital where my uterus will be removed and I need to ask some questions about how things will go down on the Thursday following. I'll need to make a list. I'll also need to make a list of all the stuff I'll be packing for the trip. I know not everyone likes lists, but in this situation, I think they could be quite helpful for me.
But in two weeks from tonight, all of that will be behind me. I'll be on to the next stage of whatever this rather humbling and terrifying reality bring me. I'm really hoping for something LESS humbling and terrifying. That would be quite nice.
It is strange to think about. Two weeks from now, I won't be sitting here, in the comfort of my own home, typing to you about what is going on. I'll be in another city, in a hospital bed, vulnerable to the people around me. I'll probably still be hooked to an IV. I'll probably need assistance if I have to get up. I'll probably feel on display and frightened and want nothing more than to be back in my own home. I'll do my best not to cause problems for the people tending to me. I may not have a lot of control over that. I may not have a lot of control over anything.
Some questions have been answered about travel arrangements. I'm happy with the answers and grateful for how things are going in that department. I'm also grateful for this weekend, because this weekend is happening Before Things Get Serious. I'm going to do my best to try and make this weekend smooth and relaxing. I'm hoping for as little stress as possible and will be very grateful to all people and all the universe if they can help me make that happen.
Next week, some items have to be bought in preparation for my surgery. There is a washing ritual I will need to begin a week before, involving keeping my abdomen as free of any contaminants as possible. Friday of next week, I go to my pre-opp appointment. It will be the first time I see the hospital where my uterus will be removed and I need to ask some questions about how things will go down on the Thursday following. I'll need to make a list. I'll also need to make a list of all the stuff I'll be packing for the trip. I know not everyone likes lists, but in this situation, I think they could be quite helpful for me.
But in two weeks from tonight, all of that will be behind me. I'll be on to the next stage of whatever this rather humbling and terrifying reality bring me. I'm really hoping for something LESS humbling and terrifying. That would be quite nice.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Preparations
Today was the first day we've had so far where I actually felt uncomfortably hot. It wasn't quite unbearably hot by any means, but it certainly wasn't pleasant. It didn't start out that way. This morning, when we ran errands, it was quite nice. I honestly expected it to start raining. Instead, it just opted to be horribly humid and nasty. Thankfully, I had fans. They somewhat took the edge off.
I'm starting to get my travel plans in order. It's a slow process structured around other people's schedules, but when you're having people drive you on multiple days, that is what it takes. I'm thinking by Saturday at the latest, all travel plans will be set in motion. That's pretty great because it will be one less thing to worry about. Maybe I can even find another level of relaxing.
I made an appointment with my regular doctor. I won't be seeing her until the 17th, but then again, she knows nothing about any of the cancer stuff yet, so it's probably a good idea to get her up to date. My roommate and I talked about the stuff that needs to be bought before the trip. I have some lists I need to make so that I don't forget things.
It will be very good to have everything settled and ready. Less will be on my mind and I can just focus on trying NOT to obsess about the surgery and everything that could go wrong.
Though, I have to admit that when you start spitting stitches in your arm, it somewhat makes you hesitant about someone putting stitches in your vagina.
I'm starting to get my travel plans in order. It's a slow process structured around other people's schedules, but when you're having people drive you on multiple days, that is what it takes. I'm thinking by Saturday at the latest, all travel plans will be set in motion. That's pretty great because it will be one less thing to worry about. Maybe I can even find another level of relaxing.
I made an appointment with my regular doctor. I won't be seeing her until the 17th, but then again, she knows nothing about any of the cancer stuff yet, so it's probably a good idea to get her up to date. My roommate and I talked about the stuff that needs to be bought before the trip. I have some lists I need to make so that I don't forget things.
It will be very good to have everything settled and ready. Less will be on my mind and I can just focus on trying NOT to obsess about the surgery and everything that could go wrong.
Though, I have to admit that when you start spitting stitches in your arm, it somewhat makes you hesitant about someone putting stitches in your vagina.
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Headspaces
I felt a lot of relief in actually opening up about the cancer. It's been difficult to do so. It's somewhat overwhelming to live with the idea of it, knowing that a part of you is trying its best to destroy everything else. There are a lot of 'at leasts' in my case. At least they caught it early. At least it's not advanced. At least it is contained. At least it can be removed with surgery. There is all of this and I am grateful for all of this.
There are also a lot of unknowns. The unknowns are probably the roughest part of any situation like this. Until the surgery happens, I don't know how well it will go. Even afterwards, I won't know how well things were achieved. There are the unknowns of travel and the unknowns of meeting new people. There are the unkowns of being in strange places and having to do things I've never done before. I try my best not to think about these things, other than as much as I can arrange them to try and make them happen. The unknowns could drive me insane.
As I've mentioned before, all of this makes sleeping a rough prospect sometimes. I have to force myself to think about other things, things that in no way connect back to my situation. It's the best way to try and get to sleep. Sometimes it doesn't work that well, but I try my best to make it happen. When sleep doesn't happen, I try not to think too much about it. Sleep will probably happen the next night or perhaps the night after. Eventually I get exhausted enough to where I'm too tired to worry.
In the meantime, I'm hoping that things calm down with my arm. The stitch splitting continues and it's worrying. I'm doing my best to keep things calm and healthy on the scar, but my body seems to be working against me. You'd think that as much as it hates these foreign stitches and wants to reject them, it would hate the foreign cancer and try to get rid of it. Then again, I've never thought my body was working in my best interests.
Even though I've tried to work on NOT disassociating from my body, since this cancer thing happened, I've actually been trying to revive my old skills. Disassociation is quite useful when you're basically naked on a table or someone is sticking needles into your body. It helps you to move through those moments. It helps a lot, really.
Anyway, I would assume that for a while, the blog will be about this issue. It's somewhat consuming my headspace. Maybe I can find more of a way around that, but right now, I'm not sure how to do that. One way or the other, hopefully it will all be over by June 20th.
There are also a lot of unknowns. The unknowns are probably the roughest part of any situation like this. Until the surgery happens, I don't know how well it will go. Even afterwards, I won't know how well things were achieved. There are the unknowns of travel and the unknowns of meeting new people. There are the unkowns of being in strange places and having to do things I've never done before. I try my best not to think about these things, other than as much as I can arrange them to try and make them happen. The unknowns could drive me insane.
As I've mentioned before, all of this makes sleeping a rough prospect sometimes. I have to force myself to think about other things, things that in no way connect back to my situation. It's the best way to try and get to sleep. Sometimes it doesn't work that well, but I try my best to make it happen. When sleep doesn't happen, I try not to think too much about it. Sleep will probably happen the next night or perhaps the night after. Eventually I get exhausted enough to where I'm too tired to worry.
In the meantime, I'm hoping that things calm down with my arm. The stitch splitting continues and it's worrying. I'm doing my best to keep things calm and healthy on the scar, but my body seems to be working against me. You'd think that as much as it hates these foreign stitches and wants to reject them, it would hate the foreign cancer and try to get rid of it. Then again, I've never thought my body was working in my best interests.
Even though I've tried to work on NOT disassociating from my body, since this cancer thing happened, I've actually been trying to revive my old skills. Disassociation is quite useful when you're basically naked on a table or someone is sticking needles into your body. It helps you to move through those moments. It helps a lot, really.
Anyway, I would assume that for a while, the blog will be about this issue. It's somewhat consuming my headspace. Maybe I can find more of a way around that, but right now, I'm not sure how to do that. One way or the other, hopefully it will all be over by June 20th.
Monday, June 2, 2014
The Medical Thing
I suppose it's time for me to talk about the other medical stuff that is going on. Last month, I finally got in to see gynecologist. As I blogged at the time, she biopsied my uterus. A week later informed me that
I had stage one uterine cancer. This wasn't what I was expecting, not at all. I'd just gone in to see about get an ablation. Cancer was the last thing I was expecting. I suppose it shouldn't have been.
The doctor said I would need a hysterectomy, but felt a couple of things needed to happen before I could have that surgery. One was that I had an Eclipse Vena Cava filter placed, to help prevent blood clots. The other was that I have the lipoma on my arm removed. I'm not sure why she wanted this done, but as I wanted the thing gone, I went with her decision. I've talked about the lipoma surgery in terms of both the benefits and drawbacks from it. It's been great in a lot of ways, but as I'm sitting here with spitting stitches, I have to say it's kind of a mixed bag.
Past that, she referred me to Dr. Choo in Tulsa. Dr. Choo is a gynecologist and an oncologist with 38 years of experience. I met with him on Thursday at the Tulsa Cancer Institute. The interesting thing is that on Monday of last week, he, personally, called me and talked with me for about 45 minutes about my situation and medical history. Due to this, by the time I met with him on Thursday, he already had my surgery scheduled.
The doctor said I would need a hysterectomy, but felt a couple of things needed to happen before I could have that surgery. One was that I had an Eclipse Vena Cava filter placed, to help prevent blood clots. The other was that I have the lipoma on my arm removed. I'm not sure why she wanted this done, but as I wanted the thing gone, I went with her decision. I've talked about the lipoma surgery in terms of both the benefits and drawbacks from it. It's been great in a lot of ways, but as I'm sitting here with spitting stitches, I have to say it's kind of a mixed bag.
Past that, she referred me to Dr. Choo in Tulsa. Dr. Choo is a gynecologist and an oncologist with 38 years of experience. I met with him on Thursday at the Tulsa Cancer Institute. The interesting thing is that on Monday of last week, he, personally, called me and talked with me for about 45 minutes about my situation and medical history. Due to this, by the time I met with him on Thursday, he already had my surgery scheduled.
He was very kind to me. I think that has been the best thing about this process. He was kind. He spoke gently to me and made sure that I was processing everything that was happening. That is to say, I was processing it as much as I can. There has been a lot of long moments of shock. There has been a lot of long moments of loss. I never wanted kids, but as a friend pointed out, it's one thing to choose not to have kids and quite another to have the choice ripped out of you.
Anyway, the surgery is on the 19th of June. I'll need to be at St. John's by 6:30 in the morning, so I'll be going up on the 18th and staying in a hotel overnight. The surgery will be a radical hysterectomy, removing uterus, ovaries, cervix, and some lymph nodes. It will be done using the da Vinci system, which is a type of robotic assisted surgery where five holes are placed in your abdomen and robot arms cook and gnaw away at your insides. When everything is cut loose from your body, it is pushed out through your vagina. As ghastly as this sounds, it is considered the safest way to do a hysterectomy.
If things go wrong, I may still have to be opened up. If that is the case, I'll be facing the same kind of pain recovery as anyone who has had a c-section and I'll end up in the hospital for several days. If things go well, I should only be in the hospital overnight. Past that, I should be allowed to go home and resume my life.
Emotionally, I'm doing okay. I went through some time where I was devastated and terrified, but meeting Dr. Choo has helped things a lot. When you're a fat girl, any kind of medical anything is scary, but he assured me I wasn't the biggest patient he'd dealt with and he wasn't worried about working on me.
So in a nutshell, that's what has been going on with me for a while now. Uterine cancer. Major surgery. Expenses. Trepidation. A looming sense of dread. The need to meet new people and talk to them about very personal things. It has been overwhelming at times and very unreal at times. I'm scared and it seems that every minute of my life now has this lurking tension because of all of this. As much as I am hoping the next couple of weeks go by slowly, I'm also hoping they speed by so that I can get this over with, one way or the other.
So in a nutshell, that's what has been going on with me for a while now. Uterine cancer. Major surgery. Expenses. Trepidation. A looming sense of dread. The need to meet new people and talk to them about very personal things. It has been overwhelming at times and very unreal at times. I'm scared and it seems that every minute of my life now has this lurking tension because of all of this. As much as I am hoping the next couple of weeks go by slowly, I'm also hoping they speed by so that I can get this over with, one way or the other.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
Spitting Stitches
If you have some major incision made on your body, they usually do an underlayer of dissolving stitches and then staples or whatever else over that. This is a practical thing to do, as it gives you reinforcements for the healing process. In theory, this works very well and can help you soon recover from whatever caused the incision in the first place.
In reality, sometimes it's not that simple. Stitches don't dissolve as quickly for everyone. Sometimes it can take quite a while for them to completely break down. In the meantime, some people's bodies start to reject the foreign objects. And as I am sure you can guess, I fall into this group . . . because OF COURSE I do.
Basically what happens is that your body begins to try to force the remaining bits of stitches out of your body. This can be a slow, gentle process . . or can can be your body forms a nice little pimple like thing that bursts open and begins to bleed for a while. It looks horrible and scary and you begin to question if you are ever going to heal. But then of course, you Google what is going on and find out it's just your body being annoying.
My first stitch spit was of the more gentle nature. I had a bit of white begin to protrude from a small cut on the scar. At first, I just thought it was an odd bit of skin, but then I noticed it was beginning to fray on the edge. My body does a lot of strange stuff, but fraying isn't one of them. I cut this bit of stitch off as near to my skin as I could and tried to ignore it.
Today, I had the second type happen. A place that had healed and looked perfectly nice has suddenly ripped itself open and is causing problems. I can see the bit of stitching, but it's still to shallow for me to reach. I'm guessing that in a day or two, it will work its way out and I can cut it off as well. In the meantime, I'll just do my best to make sure its little area of protest doesn't get infected or anything.
I keep reminding myself that in a couple of months, all of this will hopefully be behind me and I can just get on with my life. There are small setbacks and weirdnesses now, but in time, all of it will die down and things will be normal. Sometimes, though, like when a place that looked healed breaks open, it's not so easy to convince yourself of that. I'll keep trying though, because it's honestly one of the few things I can do.
In reality, sometimes it's not that simple. Stitches don't dissolve as quickly for everyone. Sometimes it can take quite a while for them to completely break down. In the meantime, some people's bodies start to reject the foreign objects. And as I am sure you can guess, I fall into this group . . . because OF COURSE I do.
Basically what happens is that your body begins to try to force the remaining bits of stitches out of your body. This can be a slow, gentle process . . or can can be your body forms a nice little pimple like thing that bursts open and begins to bleed for a while. It looks horrible and scary and you begin to question if you are ever going to heal. But then of course, you Google what is going on and find out it's just your body being annoying.
My first stitch spit was of the more gentle nature. I had a bit of white begin to protrude from a small cut on the scar. At first, I just thought it was an odd bit of skin, but then I noticed it was beginning to fray on the edge. My body does a lot of strange stuff, but fraying isn't one of them. I cut this bit of stitch off as near to my skin as I could and tried to ignore it.
Today, I had the second type happen. A place that had healed and looked perfectly nice has suddenly ripped itself open and is causing problems. I can see the bit of stitching, but it's still to shallow for me to reach. I'm guessing that in a day or two, it will work its way out and I can cut it off as well. In the meantime, I'll just do my best to make sure its little area of protest doesn't get infected or anything.
I keep reminding myself that in a couple of months, all of this will hopefully be behind me and I can just get on with my life. There are small setbacks and weirdnesses now, but in time, all of it will die down and things will be normal. Sometimes, though, like when a place that looked healed breaks open, it's not so easy to convince yourself of that. I'll keep trying though, because it's honestly one of the few things I can do.
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