Monday, November 10, 2014

And the Beat Goes On...

By my count, I have had seven surgeries, hospitalizations, or procedures in the last two years. Nine in the last three years. Prior to that, there are at least a dozen more. I'm certainly not the record-holder, but I'm no stranger to how this whole thing works.

Here we are, four and a half weeks after the World's Most Complicated Hysterectomy, and I think I'm behind on the whole healing thing. By my estimation, I should be done by now. But NOPE. Another day, another complication. But I can't stop my life for weeks and lay around waiting for recovery to happen. When post-op setbacks happen, they have to fit in my day. Today is a good illustration of that.

Monday, November 10th, 2014

7:00 am: Finally decide that the alarm clock has a point and drag myself out of bed. It hurts that spot by my incision to sit up.

7:20 am: round the kids into the car. Getting into the car makes the spot by my incision hurt worse than ever. It's been hurting for... two weeks now? Time to call Pittard.

7:32 am: Deliver the kids to school.

7:35 am: Unload the bakery's recycling out of the car at the drop-off near the school. Twinges a bit in that spot.

7:39 am: Bakery supply shopping at Kroger (Did you SEE this week's butter sale???)

8:14 am: unload the butter (and other supplies) at the shop, put them away, check and answer all the voicemails, emails, and PMs. Call Pittard, try to get an appointment. Told to wait for the nurse to call me back.

9:01 am: Procure breakfast on the way to the car wash. Oh, Jack's iced coffee, how do I love you....

9:13 am: Drive the car through Goo Goo and then vacuum half the neighborhood's crunchy leaf bits out of the back floor. I'm moving too slowly- Call for appointment with Pittard again.

9:31 am: get eyebrows done finally- but that spot hurts leaning back in the chair.

9:40 am: Check out the thrift store- I know it's been missing me- find super cute tea cups for the new tea party tables

9:48 am: Cruise through Belk. Try on diamond ring just for shiggles. See cute purse on floor- can't bend over to pick it up and check it out. Someone has to fix this.

10:25 am: Arrive at Medical Arts Eye Clinic for a full.... FULL... glaucoma work up. Pressures, dilation, pics of optic nerves, pics of tumor in right eye, bright, bright lights in my dilated eyes make them tired and sore.

11:42 am: leave eye clinic, sore, and call Pittard's office again. Offer to just stop by since I'm already in Auburn. Told to come at 1:30 for an ultrasound. Score!

11:50 am: Home for lunch. Leftovers and Dr. Who reruns are cool.

1:10 pm: head to the ultrasound store.

Ultrasound shows something weird in there. A hematoma? An abscess?

Kinda looks like Grumpy Cat
Have a thorough exam.

 Have a good, long talk with my Pittard. He orders a CT and blood panel to get more info. We have a long discussion on pain meds and find a compromise in Lortab Jr. (that's not it's real name, but that's how he convinced me to take something, so I'm sticking with it). Also discuss hot flashes and mood swings... and the depression. He starts me on a low, low dose of estrogen. We'll see how that goes. They draw some blood and...

2:54 pm: Back up the road to the hospital for the CT.

 This hospital thing is getting old. Doss and the kids meet me up there with caffeine and aspirin for my eye pain-induced headache.

My kids have done too much homework at the hospital already

4:39 pm: CT is over, get to go home!

4:52 pm (yes, 13 minutes later, really): My Pittard calls with the scan results. Inconclusive. Sad trombone. Take the pain pills, take it easy, and he'll call when the blood work comes back.

If it gets better, great!
If it gets worse, probably surgery.

So... that's where we are.

I want to get up in the morning and be whole and strong and energetic. I have things to do! But my body is a vicious traitor and it's far more accepting of my middle-aged status than I am. So I'll get up tomorrow and say bad words when the act of sitting up causes me to feel like I'm being ripped in half. I'll go to my beautiful, mildly haunted bakery and spend the day puttering around while a bunch of cakes run through the oven. And then I'll come home and be more tired than I should be after a day of just puttering and baking. And that's ok, for now.

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