Tag Archives for change

A Bright Spot In My Grey Fog

Time sometimes makes me feel as if I’m moving at a snail’s pace through a murky grey fog. Since having surgery at the end of February, that’s how I’ve been feeling. For the first weeks afterwards, I told myself it was the general anesthetics working through my body and once that passed my energy level would pick up. When that didn’t happen I told myself that I wasn’t getting enough quality sleep, which rarely ever happens, so I had to cast that variable by the wayside. Even when I got the all clear from my doctor because the pathology report from my surgery was negative for any cancer, there was no movement on my energy meter.

I started to get concerned; because I thought, I might slowly be sliding into depression but missing the true signs. Maybe the low energy I was crediting to anesthesia, fatigue, a pain flare up, or my laptop’s hard drive crashing was really the looming darkness of a mental crash. It wouldn’t be hard to miss for someone in my situation, even with the mental health supports I have in place to cope with my poor health; and especially because my nervous system gets flooded not just by the barrage of constant pain but also an unending amount of pain medications. With these things constantly at play, a shift in mood would be easy to miss.

Then last week, I felt a desperate need to change things, but I knew whatever I did had to fall within the limits of my pain. On Saturday, I decided to do something that I had taken for granted when I was healthy. I booked an appointment with the aesthetician I used to go to because it’s been such a long time – almost four years ago before the start of my illness – since I did anything to pamper myself. The women who own the spa I went to were so happy to see me. They asked why it had been so long since my last visit and I told them what I’ve been living with. Not only were they sympathetic, they were also empathetic because they both faced significant health issues in recent years. They were both extremely encouraging and expressed hopes that I would be better soon.

At the end of my appointment, as I walked to the elevators one of the women called after me. I assumed I forgot something, but I hadn’t. She followed me out to give me one of the tightest warm hugs I’ve had in a long time. I started to cry as a woman I hardly know held me with great affection. She reiterated her positive wishes and prayers that I will become healthy soon. For the rest of the day as I pushed myself to finish the errands I had to do – I’m not sure I could have lasted another week without my laptop – I could feel the fog lifting. A hug from someone I barely know lit up my day and has had lingering positive effect.

I’ve been reflecting on that for the past few days: For anyone reading my writing for the first time, this isn’t about me being starved for affection or human contact. I have wonderful friends and family who do everything they can to support me. This is about the big way small gestures can affect our lives; the way sharing our troubles can bring about such surprising connections and unexpectedly comforting events; and how feeling cared for, even if it’s just for a moment, can fortify us.

I’m glad I made that appointment. Apart from reminding me how important it is to do things to pamper one’s self from time to time, it was a truly bright experience that lifted much of the fog that had cloaked me.

 

Weekend Blooms
Taxi Doodles

 

Prepared to Pluck Polyps

After some juggling of schedules, I’m finally having surgery today because last Spring the results from my follow-up abdominal ultrasound scan showed that I have a uterine/endometrial polyp. My Gynecologist decided it was best to remove it, and not leave it alone and subject me to abdominal scans every six months to monitor it for changes. If I had demanded he leave it alone – say because I feared extreme post-surgery pain – any changes that showed up in later scans could have signalled cancer. Even the slimmest chance of that happening was enough for me to accept my Gynecologist’s decision.

To be honest, I expected to have the surgery in the fall, but I had to place a priority on the treatments and programs I already had scheduled for my chronic pain during those months. My continued pain was also a big part of the focus for my surgery pre-admission appointment last week. I spent about four hours in the hospital’s Pre-Admission Center on Friday, meeting with nurses, technicians, and doctors to discuss my medical history and identify any current health issues, have blood drawn for tests, and get a general physical. The nurse was the first person I met with and at one point, while looking through my electronic medical files; she rightly stated that I spend too much time in hospitals.

During my meeting with the nurse, I had to recount the history of my illness, the outcome of my last surgery and recent treatments, and the long list of medications I now take to cope with my pain. As pleasant as she was, while I sat there and went through all those details, the interaction put a sharper edge on the pain I was feeling. At one point, she noticed my creased forehead and asked if I was all right. There wasn’t much I could say in response, except that it was just my usual pain, which thankfully she couldn’t tell was a lie. Before I moved on to the next stop in the pre-admission process, she gave me some literature on my surgery, a Hysteroscopy, and although I’ll be under general anesthesia, will not require any abdominal incision(s) because it will take place entirely within my uterus. Oh, joy!

Next, I met with the blood technician who took three or four vials of blood. I’m rarely sure about how many vials get filled for blood tests because having my veins pierced by the needle always hurts like hell and I never look. I am concerned about what the results from the blood tests might be because recent tests have uncovered that I have low iron – which means I’m anemic – and I have low blood (hemoglobin) levels. If I have below normal blood levels again, my surgery might be rescheduled until I get a boost. Thankfully, when I later met with the doctor for my physical, the session was short and didn’t cause me any extra pain.

My last stop, in the pre-admission process was with an Anesthesiologist, who is a member of the hospital’s Pain Team. I had to meet with someone from the Pain Team to discuss the possible outcomes of the surgery with respect to my pain. The type of surgery I’m having is usually a Day/Ambulatory Surgery procedure, meaning that you get to go home once you wake up and don’t show any adverse reactions to the anesthetics. In my case, the chronic pain I live with daily is factored into when I might be allowed to go home. If, when I wake up, I don’t have unmanageable pain I can go home on the same day. However, if my pain can’t be controlled I’ll be kept, at least overnight, until my pain reaches a level I can cope with at home. I’m hoping for the former because I want to come home and sleep in my bed after it’s all over, but knowing what I do now about my pain’s unpredictability I have to prepare for anything.

♦

This is what I was listening to as I posted this morning…

The Beatles – Hey Jude

Blogiversary: 2 Years & 200 Posts

I received two unexpected notifications this week from the WordPress staff. I’ve been writing in this space for two years and I’ve written 200 posts. When I started this blog, I did it with the aim of unburdening myself of all the stress and emotional and psychological pain my illness causes me. I needed a space separate from the judgement and input of my family and friends. A space where I could be completely honest about what I am living with, while hoping to connect with other people who could empathize and truly understand what I’m living with. I’ve gotten that and so much more from this small corner of the interwebs that I’ve turned into my own.

This past year I started sharing my writing with some of my friends and family. I did that because they still have a hard time wrapping their heads around what is happening to me and how I cope with this illness every day. I hadn’t shared my writings about my illness with them before because I was anxious about exposing myself and the raw truth of my experiences and emotions; and I worried that I might have to become less candid with what I write. However, the feedback I received from some of them made me realize that I had no reason to fear what they might think.

In fact, my anxiety was unwarranted. The friends and family, with whom I shared my writing, were all incredibly compassionate. Some expressed disbelief that I’ve managed to hold myself together all this time while living with the level of pain I do daily. They couldn’t understand how I manage to maintain such an upbeat outlook even with the many failed procedures and pain medications that often don’t manage my pain as they should. Others just enjoyed reading my writing and were surprised with the level of detail I retain about my experiences and how vividly I convey what is happening to me.

This made me feel closer to them, which was completely unexpected. I never thought it could be possible to appreciate and love them more – let alone feel closer to them. Because of this, when I sit down to write I don’t worry anymore. I don’t feel the need to consider that I might express something that may be upsetting to them because they have made it clear that the support they extend to me and the love they hold for me is not conditional on what I might need to vent. They see this space as an opportunity to tap into the truth I might not fully share otherwise.

Two years into writing this blog and almost four years into living with my illness, I continue to learn about the people in my life and myself. Obviously, I don’t know what to expect in the coming year. My hope is to continue with the same determination to cope with my illness and to share what I’m living through with others who might connect with something I post. Writing has always been an important part of my life and even though I started this blog on a whim, it’s become an invaluable tool to help me – and now people I’m close to – cope with and better understand my life.

Blogiversary Bouquet