Any woman will tell you how frustrating it is to bleed. Unlike men, we don’t just bleed. We bleed. And it can last for a week without the blessed relief of death. I’m kidding, or am I?
When I was 35 years old I had a partial hysterectomy. I was having horrible periods, my gynecologist and psychiatrist were partially controlling my mood issues with birth control pills (mostly successfully), but I had reached that magic age where that wasn’t going to work anymore. So they took out my uterus and cervix. Problem solved. Sort of.
When I was 39 I had surgery on my legs to deal with a skin issue. I have a condition where I get huge cysts that get infected and ooze yuck. Part of the oozing was blood, so even though I no longer had a period I was still dealing with getting blood on my clothes at random times. UGH.
The surgery mostly dealt with that, at least until the cysts moved into my groin. Wow, nothing like having cysts in your lady bits.
I’m taking Humira injections once a week plus two pills to try to combat this. It SUCKS but most of the time I know when I’ve got something active.
Evidently today is one of those days and I just got blindsided.
The good news is that it doesn’t hurt, and I’m wearing pants that should hide any spots. But for fuck sake, enough is enough.
That was me this morning, in the car, waiting for Lancelot to get done with work. Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” was playing on the stereo. That is just so very much me.
So many ideas right now, things I want to do. I was contemplating a possible new project for my bedroom that would let me display my necklaces better. I’ve also been thinking about making jewelry from some of the pieces I picked up over the weekend. And knit projects with the yarn I got in Ireland.
Notice anything missing? I just really don’t feel like doing any writing. And that’s not good. I’ve got one packet left to finish. I need to buckle down.
In other news, I saw the dermatologist yesterday. I’m starting a new topical ointment and three new pills. I’m not thrilled, but she seems optimistic. Oh, and I need to put some serious effort into losing weight. I told her that I could lose 8lbs by the time I see her in four weeks.
I’ve got to do this. I’ve been suffering with this nonsense for too long. And I know I’ll feel better if there’s a little less of me. I know what I look like doesn’t really matter to Lancelot, but I also know that he wants me healthy.
Step one – no more sugared beverages. Anything sweet must be zero calorie. Fruit juice must be 100% juice and not have any added sugar. Just doing this should help. But I’m also going for more raw fruits and veggies, portion control, and less junk. I can do this.
Once my ankle heals a little more I can get back on the treadmill and that should really help. Right now just isn’t the time for that. But I’ll get there. I have to.
I’ve been meaning to post but then I had a wicked upper respiratory infection that laid me out flat for the better part of a week. I didn’t do much beyond Facebook on my phone, Law & Order SVU, and chicken & stars soup in a coffee mug.
I know how to roll, yo.
I’m finally back at work and feeling better. Mostly. I’m definitely in a “take no prisoners” kind of mood. I’ve had my fucking fill of the stupid.
That’s pretty much where I’m at right now. Except I’m eating a salad.
Anyway, I’m behind on homework which is not surprising. I have an assignment due tonight which shouldn’t be a problem. I need to get my ass in gear with the reading and writing though, which means I need to devise a new evening schedule for myself.
Oh I do love me some planning and scheming…
The total upside of this is that the reading is utterly fascinating, so I’ve got that going for me.
Unless you are young enough to not have to drive, or wealthy enough to have someone else drive you around, winter in these parts often sucks. It can be dangerously cold, we get rain that freezes and gets topped by snow that is sometimes measured in feet, and in spite of it all there are still people who insist on driving like they’re competing in the Indy 500.
I am particularly NOT FOND of driving when it gets like this, and right now it is very much THIS. Partially this is because I once ran into the back end of a sheriff’s cruiser in bad winter weather (while on my way to meet my soon-to-be in-laws for the first time, on Christmas Eve) and partially because there’s no way for it to just be me on the roads. There is always some jerk who thinks that 4-wheel drive means something different than “all 4 of these wheels will slide at the exact same time when I hit a patch of black ice hidden under the snow while I’m driving 65mph on a surface street.” No, I am not exaggerating. This is the land of the pick-up truck and while not everyone who drives a truck is like that, many of them are.
If we get lucky, and this is “luck” as defined by me and most school aged children, we get a snow day. For those of you not living in a climate like this, a snow day is where the school districts, and sometimes the universities and every now and then a whole city, waves the white flag of surrender and lets all of us small children stay at home where it’s safe. This keeps the kids from standing outside waiting for buses and possibly slipping on ice, keeps the bus drivers from dealing with nasty roads, and makes it easier for the snow plows to do their jobs.
There’s typically junk food, movies, and non-stop pajama time involved. For me it usually includes some amount of time working on a craft project. It’s found time and it’s a beautiful thing.
Unless you’re sick.
Where did we leave off in our saga? Oh yes, I looked like a lobster because of yet another allergic reaction and I was waiting to see if I needed another surgery. Good times.
The allergy subsided and I quite literally shed my skin. Everywhere. Thoroughly gross.
The breast cancer doc was not a woman but rather a lovely older gent with a lovely Hispanic accent who told me that he saw no reason to operate. Instead I’ll be having another mammogram in June on just the left side and we’ll keep an eye on that area for the next few years.
Christmas was good and things in general have been good. I’ve been productive finally. And I’ve been cleared by the oncologist to go back to work next week.
But all of this “sky is falling” stuff has got me thinking. I really do want to take charge of my own destiny and become the person I know I can be. So expect changes, some big and some small. Mostly you should expect to hear all about my goals. I have lots of things to do and I know I won’t get anywhere without a plan, and that’s how I think about goals.
Let’s do this, shall we?
It’s a well documented fact that I’m allergic to lots of stuff, mostly medicine. I tend to get the run of the ill itchy rash that’s more of a miserable nuisance than anything, though I have on two occasions gotten Stevens-Johnson Syndrome which can quickly become severe and life threatening. Having been down this road before I do know the difference.
On Wednesday I was full-on into a rash. I looked like the miserable little lobster that I was but it was truly Just A Rash. Which is why the doc sent me to the ER. *SMH*
After spending several hours there, and donating more blood, I was released with a clean bill of health (quelle suprise!) and instructions to take Benadryl every 4 hours. I’ve been sleeping a lot lately. (duh) I am starting to feel better though, which is good. I’ve been able to be up and out of the house and I even wore real pants the other day. Go me!
On Thursday I have the appointment with the breast surgeon. I know I’m seeing an oncologist and that my doctor for this is a woman, but I don’t know anything beyond that. Assuming I have another full-blown surgery I do intend to tell her to please not give this antibiotic I just had. The itching is driving me rather crazy and I’m a little concerned I’m going to dislocate one of my shoulders trying to scratch the middle of my back.
The surgery this morning went well. Evidently the ridiculous pain had been caused by a regular old ovarian cyst that had stopped being a pain because it had mostly been reabsorbed by my body. The oncologist made the smart decision to remove it anyway because once one of those little suckers grows cysts they’re likely to keep growing them and if she had opened me up and not taken anything I’ve have been super pissed. Especially after this…
Yes, that is the IV stuck in my foot. My arms and hands look like damn pin cushions and I’m covered in bruises. Fortunately by that point I was desperate, crying a little, and the anesthesia doc who put it in got it on the first poke. Yay.
The surgery itself went so well that I went in the OR at 8 and was at home by 11.
I am much less pleased with the breast biopsy results, which didn’t come until this afternoon during my nap. What they found is not cancer, yay, but it something that typically turns into cancer, boo. So tomorrow afternoon I have an appointment with my regular doc to find out what the next phase of this adventure actually is.
For the record, we are not amused.