Inside Outed

My first instinct is to hide.

[I only let it out at night.]

Put a smile on my face and find something to do.

The busy will give me something to hide behind.

It will give me a purpose that will allow me to ignore the ebbing emotions that keep threatening to come out.

I will not give in, I will not let it fuck me up.....I will not let it fuck my family up

A familiar refrain.

I reorganize and schedule.
I try to see all the good in my life and hang on to that.
I try to keep on keepin' on so that I look "normal."
Hiding undercover as a happy person.

I WILL MAKE THE BEST OF IT, damn it!

But there is always something that tips the scale in Depression's favor....and I am made.

Every single time.

By Tuesday's post, I could feel myself losing the stranglehold.

The thought of the ER bill was hanging over me like a sentence, and I just couldn't shake an overwhelming sense of hopelessness....

Wednesday afternoon, my husband left work early so that he could take me to my appointment with the gastro-specialist.

I knew going in, that it would probably not be a very productive visit.

[Which was hard to swallow given that the Huz was losing out on 2 hours of pay and the visit was $200 up front.]

After filling out paperwork and talking to his physician's assistant for 15 minutes, it was clear that they felt that nothing discernible was wrong with me.

When the doctor actually came in, I was basically making my way out the door.

He offered to re-run previous tests, but felt that based on the scans and blood work  from the ER that I was perfectly fine:

Maybe I just needed to start taking an over-the-counter antacid.....

I almost lost it right there in his office.

Thankfully, I salvaged some dignity and was able to pay my $200 and leave with out sobbing.

While I don't want to be sick, knowing that we will have to pay ER fees that will basically put us back another 3-5 years debt-wise doesn't make me want to celebrate my supposed healthiness.

But, as I kept telling myself in the car:

I knew this was going to happen.

I hadn't wanted to go to the ER in the first place.
Something was wrong with me, yes, but it was not wrong enough.

A lifetime without stable health care (or any at all) teaches you these things.

But my husband worries... and my guilt over making him worry or possibly being irresponsible about my health, forces my hand and forced me into an ER....



Finally back home, I could feel my panic and anger rising.

How the fuck were we going to pay for this?
And secondarily, I still feel like shit and it is pretty clear that THAT isn't really anybody's problem but mine.


By bedtime, I was crying, and I could feel it flooding my whole body.

The fear
the worry
the stress
the pain
the exhaustion
but most of all,
the helplessness.

Forever stuck in a cycle of a rock and a hard place.

Surrounded by well-meaning people who say things like:


It could be worse! 
Someday it will turn around! 
Just keep on doing the best you can and you'll see how good life can be!
You have so much to be grateful for! 
 (Yes, I do. But gratefulness does not take away chronic pain or clinical depression)
You'll figure it out!

And usually?

Those people don't have a fucking clue as to what your going through, and have never really been in a situation even remotely close to yours.


Not that it's their fault, nor would I wish it upon them, but I do wish that they could recognize that they have no idea what it's like and keep their reality-deflecting platitudes to themselves.

 I have said it BEFORE and I will say it AGAIN:

Sometimes life is an unfair shitfest.
Respect those moments and let us grieve them, please.


By 3am, I had awoken in a cold sweat and started crying.
The crying pretty much continued until about 2pm Thursday afternoon.
Not my finest moment, and the FIRST time I have ever let that happen in front of my son....

But I just couldn't pull myself back together.


I am a fucking mess.

My hubs, rightfully alarmed,demanded I call my doctor and schedule an appointment all the blood work the Doc wants me to have done before he'll put me back on meds and to do further blood tests to hopefully wrap up our (and now his) suspicions of Fibromyalgia.

And I did.

I don't know how we're going to pay for it ($200 per office visit + whatever the lab work costs, not to mention the meds), on top of everything else, but I've got to do something.

My depression is not the sum total of all of my health issues, but letting it run wild isn't doing anyone any good.

I've been too stubborn for too long, trying to control it, HIDE it,  by myself.

And if Fibromyalgia is indeed an issue, maybe I can finally get some answers and solutions to the chronic pain.

I promised myself I would get all of this done at the 1st of the year, and now we're into May, so I guess I need to get on it.....

It's just so terrifying to know that while you may need it, you haven't got the resources for it.

Sigh.


Everything is about money.
We don't have enough to get me (or us) the help I (we) need, but make "too much" to qualify for help.


People like me with pre-existing conditions can no longer be denied for health insurance, but the type of insurance I qualify for is astronomical and won't cover my basic health needs anyway.

To know that every step you try to take forward to make yourself feel better, only pushes your family back five steps, and down further into the mire of debt.

It's crushing.

Especially when you live in such an affluent area, as we happen to, and you constantly watch people take so much for granted.

Dismissing you and your "problems" because they don't want to have to actually be confronted with how hard life can be and lucky they really are.

I have to remind myself of how lucky we are all the time.

So I spend most of my time trying to hide.
Trying to stay busy.
And crying in the bathroom at 3 am, so I won't disturb anyone.

No way to live, and I'm trying to claw my way out, but it's tough... 

So far, I am on a losing streak.

Please send me all the good vibes, chants, prayers, luck, you can.


I hate to ask, but I need all the help I can get.



Because at this moment, I am drowning.
Even in the day time.

Here we go AGAIN.

For the last 2 weeks, I've been having what I thought was abdominal pain...

by this last weekend the pain was shooting up into my back into what felt like my kidneys...full force.

SHIT.

As an uninsured individual, I don't go to the doctor unless there is copious amounts of blood, vomit/fever, and/or pain involved.

Well, the pain was bad.  It had BEEN bad and wasn't really getting better.

AND, my in-laws are leaving for almost 2 weeks tomorrow....

I figured I should get my ass to the ER.


There goes thousands of $$$ we don't have...woot.

I get to the ER and they're relatively empty.
When they lead me back, still pretty quiet.

I take this as a good sign. Maybe they will actually give me some answers.


But alas....

They draw blood, take urine samples and give me fluids.
Then they run a CT scan.

A couple hours later, someone comes back to tell me that I'm not pregnant.

No? Really? Arrrrgh. Because that's what I'm here for....

That was the most definitive answer I got all damn day.

Later another nurse comes to tell me that I need to give them another urine sample because the previous showed that I had a UTI.

Okay...will I be getting antibiotics?

No I will not, not until they no for sure....

Alrighty!

Give them another sample.

Wait....some....more....

Nurse come back:


We need to catheterize you because your samples keep coming back contaminated.


Ummm, what?

Apparently, while the samples were showing signs of a  UTI, they were concerned that I wasn't giving them a clean sample...
...or you know, I could just have a UTI, there's always that....

So they finally get their precious clean sample...

I'm told I'll have results in a week.


SERIOUSLY?

Then, the practitioner comes in.
[He's not the doctor listed on my chart, but I'm sire I'll be charged for the mythical doctor anyway....]
He tells me that the CT scans showed kidney stones....


Ohhhh! So THAT'S what's wrong with me! 

Nope. The stones are not the problem. They could become a problem, but aren't an issue right now.

What are they going to do about the them?
Nothing.

Okaaay.

But there is something else.

Swelling around my pancreas.  Which I am quickly informed is NOT pancreatitis.

They don't know what it is.

Can I see a doctor who would know while I am here?

Nope.

I have to go to a specialist.

What will he do?

Run tests.

You mean like the ones you guys ran today?
Ahem.

That was met with withering condescension...

The practitioner left, and yet another one comes in.


Can someone tell me about my blood/urine results?

Apparently, they must be normal because someone would have informed me if there was a problem.

Well, if that's not fucking reassuring, I don't know what is.

It becomes clear that I won't be getting any answers when they start talking about discharging me.

Ummmm, what about my pain?
I'm still in pain.
Am I going to get any meds?

They ask me:

Meds for what? (like I'm an idiot)


PAIN, my friends. I am in PAINNNNN.

This was news to them.


Sigh.

I finally get some pain meds.

Then they start booting me out the door.

There's nothing they can do for me. I'll have to go to the specialist.

Six hours. No antibiotics, no answers, and I had to FIGHT for a script for pain meds.


Needless to say, it was an awesome day.

I cannot wait for the bill.
In that nauseous, hyperventilating, panic attack kinda way.
[donations are now being accepted as of now, ha!]


I see a gastroenterologist tomorrow.

He will look over the ER results and schedule me for more tests.

For $200.

I'm not feeling hopeful that there will be any answers tomorrow, either.

Sigh.

I just saw a gastro six months ago.

Other than possible IBS, he said I was fine.

I've already been scoped down the throat, up the ass and scanned up down and sideways.

What is left?

I do not have the money for this nonsense.

But I'm tired of being in pain, and now I'm worried that it could be serious.

Hopefully not.

Wish  me luck, guys!

Lured and caught...Again.

I am not good with mornings.

It takes me a while to get adjusted.
To focus.
To calm.
To breathe.
To begin again.

A daily struggle to get out of bed.

For many reasons.

I lure myself out with visions of my son's face. The feeling of my husband's arms wrapped around me.

Last night I went to bed feeling really sad and guilty.
For many reasons.

This morning I woke up happy from dreams of a future I wish to have....

Such a rarity, good dreams...
(I never trust the nice ones)


But I am feeling good today, so rare or not, I'll take it!

Until I see the blood.

 I am kicked in the gut.


I know that we can't have another baby right now.
That's why I take Birth Control....you know, for that whole "controlled" part.


So why am I crying over a run-of-the-mill period?

For Many Reasons.






--Guys, if you didn't check out yesterday's post? Please Do!!!
Send this poor family some love, and donate if you can!
Thanks.

Cerebral Palsy: It's Not as Sexy as it Sounds

I have Cerebral Palsy.  I know I've mentioned it in various posts (like this one, that one, or yep, that one), but I realized today over coffee with one of my close friends, as she was asking me about my experience with it, that I've never explained it in my blog...

[Take a second to read the info on the Mayo Clinic page, if you want. I like that site because it lays things out very clearly and concisely.]

If you're wondering which things apply to me, here's a short list:

• Variations in muscle tone-stiffness/weakness
• Stiff muscles and exaggerated reflexes (spasticity)
• Lack of muscle coordination (ataxia)
• Tremors or involuntary movements
• Slow, writhing movements (athetosis)
• Delays in reaching motor skills milestones (as an infant) , such as pushing up on arms, sitting up alone or crawling
• Favoring one side of the body, such as reaching with only one hand or dragging a leg while crawling-My right side is my weak side and my arm will hang and/or my leg will drag, especially when I'm tired or in pain.
• Difficulty walking, such as walking on toes, a crouched gait, a scissors-like gait with knees crossing or a wide gait-Before my surgery, I was on my toes and crouched...nearly impossible to walk that way.
• Difficulty with precise motions, such as picking up a crayon or spoon-Or holding a pencil, handling scissors, typing, buttoning/zipping/snapping etc. As a kid I went thru a lot of PT to learn how to do those things, and I still get frustrated while doing it from time-to-time...particularly when you add a squirming toddler to the equation.

The lack of explanation is partly because it's a difficult disorder to explain, affecting each of us that has it a bit differently, partly because I don't even fully understand it, and mostly because that is not how I want people to "see" me.

 A brief history of Me and CP:
I was born about 3 months early.
I was 2 lbs. 6oz.
I needed surgery right away (and lived in a incubator for the first few months)...My heart and lungs were underdeveloped.
They told my mother that I wouldn't live through the night.
When I did, then they said I wouldn't last the week.
As I proved I was going to be around awhile, then it turned into:
She'll be mentally handicapped, she won't talk, she won't walk. and so on....

I talked very early. And from what I was saying, it was clear that I was very smart.

But I didn't walk. I didn't move very well at all.

When I was 2 and a half, they diagnosed me with Cerebral Palsy.

Along with that was more of what I wouldn't do...and leg-braces and walkers and wheelchairs and the mine-field that is the school-yard  playground.

When I was 7 years old, a surgeon decided that I would be a candidate for this experimental surgery.  It was risky, but it was free. It in my childhood mind, offered the possibility of being normal.
Yeah, it could backfire, and I could never walk again or DIE, but WHAT-EVER.   
Sign me UP!

The recovery from surgery was hell. It was long and excruciating and exhausting. Add in the less-than picturesque environment that was my home life, and I wasn't sure I was going to make it.

It took about 2 -3 years to get to the place I now (more or less)  find myself physically. I had to relearn to sit, crawl, walk, the whole shebang.  but the first day I went to school without a walker or braces or orthopedic shoes was one of the best days of my life.

YET,

I spent most of my childhood as the "handicapped" girl. The "retarded" girl. The "girl who walks funny" girl.

And I was bitter. I still was in pain. I still had tremors and a limp (among other things).
I still was never going to be an Olympic gymnast/ballerina/high-heel wearing supermodel.

I was never going to climb a tree. Or ride a bike.

People looked at me with that "Ohhh, she's special" look of pity on their faces...

It pissed me off royally.  You mean I went through all of that for NOTHING?

(Being told that I was worthless at home really wasn't helping either)

Fuck me.

But then I pulled my head out of my ass and realized that the only way I was going to have a life is if I got the hell outta dodge and ignored all the voices said:

NO You Can't.


So I fought it. Lied about it even....I didn't have Cerebral Palsy, I just had been in a car accident. People seemed to accept and deal with that easier than CP.  I did my best to hide my symptoms, and always tried to act like I was fine. If I was hurting, I tried not to show it. If I needed help, I would have rather injured myself than ask for it*. I avoided situations where my condition would be glaringly apparent.

I refused to apply for a handicapped  placard. To me, that was like pinning a big scarlet H to my blouse. Hell to the no.**

I pushed myself  and did things that I probably shouldn't have, but I was so desperate to just be like everyone else. To prove to myself that I wasn't trapped by my disability.

There are times that I did feel trapped. That I felt sorry for myself. I still do, occasionally.

But I know that I am so very lucky.
That it could have been so much worse.

Sure, I need help putting on socks and shoes, and it's hard for me to do certain things that most people take for granted, but at least I can feed myself. At least I can breathe on my own...there are those with CP that can't.

I do fear the future, what getting old will be like for me. For my husband and children. I worry that my son will miss out on things because of his mother's limitations, I worry that my husband will too,  for that matter.

Sometimes, my fears overwhelm me, and I feel defeated. But I constantly remind myself that I so lucky...To have overcome so much. To have been able to live the life I wanted. To have amazing friends. To have a loving husband and beautiful son.


It took me a long time to accept that I had Cerebral Palsy, (and as such, there would be complications/limitations-I was gonna have to tackle life in a different fashion than I'd hoped) and a long time to not try and hide it.

I now am very upfront about who I am...as you may have noticed...ahem....perhaps...

I'm so happy that I finally let myself do that. It's made me a better person.

That being said...

The General Public can often be unkind to those who are disabled:
They often treat you like you're contagious, or that you somehow did this to yourself. Like you're not a whole person. They ask rude questions and make idiotic assumptions.

I had a guy who told me once: I really like you, but I could never date a cripple. I said: Well, I could never date an asshole, so no hard feelings.

My husband was once asked if he married me because he had a fetish for gimps. TRUE STORY.
(It's a miracle that individual remained alive....)

I don't mind if people ask  questions. If they want to know more about my condition-what it is, what causes it, etc., but a little tip? Don't lead into your queries with:
"What's wrong with you?" Or, "So, are you like,  retarded?" 
 


It will not end well. When asking questions, be respectful. Or I will make you sorry.





(In all seriousness, if you have any questions, feel free to ask! I'll do my best to answer them!)





*If I'm being honest, I fall into that pattern of behavior still now and then because I don't want to be a burden, or be seen as weak. It's something I continually work on. 

**I want to be very clear about something:
I have an enormous respect for the Disabled community. I was wrong to be ashamed of my disability. I was wrong to hide it/lie about it. No one should ever be ashamed of something like that.  I was frustrated and afraid. I was made to feel like a burden by the people who were supposed to be caring for me.  I just wanted to be treated like a person, and as a child/teenager, denying my CP was the only way I thought I could be.  I would never want a young person with any sort of disability to read this blog and think that they should do that too.  Be proud of who you are. Don't hide and don't lie.  Be honest with the world and yourself. That's a more fulfilling life that faking it could ever get you.

All signs point to "Yes"

Sooooo NOT what I was hoping for.

I think I may have Fibromyalgia.

One of my close friends, R, has it and I was talking to her about how I'd been feeling lately (and over the past several years), and she said that all of my symptoms sounded a LOT like Fibromyalgyia.

This was not something I wanted to hear (and I absolutely value her advice/judgment/insight), so just shrugged it off for a long time.

It's just having a new baby...
It's just the Chronic Fatigue Syndrome
It's just the Depression
 It's just the Cerebral Palsy
It's just the Gall Bladder
It's just the Hernia
It's just the IBS
It's just....

But this isn't new...I haven't felt good or "normal" in 6-7 years.
Every day is tough, and it has gotten worse since I've had O.
Sickness/Infection/Stress just compounds it. (Me? Sick? Stressed? Why, that's so RARE.)

I've done all the things I'm supposed to do:
Exercise
Healthy Diet
No Alcohol/Drugs/Nicotine/Caffeine
Vitamins/Supplements

Still, I feel like varying degrees of SHIT on a daily basis.
There's never enough sleep.
I hurt all the time.
I feel like I'm in a fog all the time.

But I don't like announcing that daily, because who wants to hear that all the damn time? And regardless of how I feel, O still needs his Mommy and my Husband still needs his wife.

And really, (I started to think) maybe it IS all in my head. Maybe I'm just being a baby....



WTF?  I'm no baby!!

This is legit. Whatever THIS is. But the symptoms/issues don't match up to only CP/CFS/IBS* there has to be another explanation...

Then a few days ago, I was praying for my friend, and all of the things that she has to deal with, and it dawned on me that almost ALL of the physical things that I pray on for her are the things that I struggle with myself.
I started thinking of all the times in the midst of a conversation the words "Me Too!" came out of my mouth...

So I did what we all do these days: Googled my heart out**.

And it wasn't pretty.

DING DING! We have a WINNER.

So I called R and told her about what I'd read and what I was experiencing...she told me that I should talk to my doctor right away. In the meantime though, an important marker to check were the pressure points.

In FM there are 18 points bilaterally on the body that are painful to the touch of firm pressure in people with the disorder. You must have at least 11 tender spots to be diagnosed.

I refused to look at the points myself. I wanted accuracy.

I waited til the Hubs got home, had him look at the list and then apply pressure to various points, using fake points as well so that I wouldn't subconsciously skew things one way or the other.

I had all of them. All Frikken 18.


DAMN IT.

But both R and my Hubs made the excellent point that maybe:  THIS is the answer for what's been ailing me.

And if it is, there's medicine that will help control the symptoms and hopefully, improve my quality of life.

There's a novel idea.


I'll be heading to the Doc probably at he the 1st of the year. There's just no money for it right now.
I'll have to have a bunch of blood work done to rule out things like Lupus, MS, and Rheumatoid Arthritis, but if those all come back clean (FM is a negative diagnosis) then we've got an answer. Interestingly enough, I learned that that people with FM are more likely to also have CFS and IBS....go figure.


While I'm not excited about being even unhealthier, it would be a relief to know that I'm not crazy, that I am legitimately*** ill, and that there's actually something that can be done to help it.

We'll address how  in the hell we'd afford the meds when we cross the prescribed bridge. I wanna end on a positive-ish note....

At least we can safely assume it's not Lupus. Because as Greg House has taught us all, it's  
never Lupus.

Until it is, but ya know, whatever.








* So many acronyms, so little time...errr, health.

**How did we LIVE before Google? I just don't know!

***A lot of folks think Cerebal Palsy is only legit if you're in a wheel chair or pushing a walker and have crazy leg braces...all things which I've had/done before, but since I'm pretty self-ambulatory, I've been 86'd from the club as it were. And Chronic Fatigue Syndrome? Most people just think I need to take more naps or just stop being lazy. Yes, people have REALLY said that to me. To my face, even. IBS? Don't even bother!

Hurray! Let's make a baby!

My spouseface does NOT have cancer. He's not going to die, nor is fertility being snatched away from us...(see title)...

The lumps are not dangerous in the immediate future....BUT He is going to follow-up with a urologist yearly from here-on-out, just to monitor the situation.

That's the gist of things!
He's kinda uncomfortable with his "dudes" being discussed in my blog, so that is all I will say.

Thank you for all the love/prayers/good vibes etc. We really appreciate it.



All off this madness as of late has made me think about mortality and such--How short life is.

So much of my life has been set up on the "when this, THEN this" type of schedule.

I've found myself asking the question: Do we (the universal we) have the time to keep to that schedule?

I mean, obviously, sometimes we have to.
We have to pay our bills before we go shopping for shoes.

But are we always supposed to wait? Do things the "right" way?

Every fiber of my brain screams yes to that question. My heart, on the other hand, wants things a little out of order.

I totally want to have another child. (like NOW)

I'm afraid that if we wait 'til it's the "right" time (we've moved out, become debt-free, we're making more money, etc.) it will be the wrong time for my body.

I'm  turning 30 in a few months. That's not old, but it's pushing it for someone with CP and CFS in terms of healthy pregnancies.
[And my pregnancy with O kicked my ASS.]

Plus, as you may have noticed, I'm often plagued with health issues. This makes me nervous about taking a leisurely stroll toward a second child.

Maybe we won't be able to have a second child, but I'd like to give us the best chances to try. I want to be as young/healthy-ISH as I can be.

Also? I would like for O and his potential sibling to be close in age.

Maybe it's greedy to want another baby, but I do! Is it?!

(It's funny, I had always thought I'd have 4 children. But life had a different plan. Sigh.)

If we can't have another baby, I will ALWAYS be beyond grateful that we were able to have Owen, but it will break my heart if we miss out on the gift a second child because we were waiting for the "right time" to start to try.


After almost three years of the wrong things happening to us/in our lives, it feels like the "Right Way" is a myth.

With the news of our "freedom" as it were, it feels like we need to carpe diem this mess!

But as my ILs heads would explode if we had another baby under their roof, I doubt we'll be carpe-ing OR diem-ing any time soon.

Which makes me a little sad. Okay, a lot sad, if I'm honest.


But my Hubs is of the non-cancerous variety, so Yippeeeeeee!

It would be almost Funny...

If it didn't potentially involve cancer.

My Darling Hubs found a lump in his testicle.
On the 30th anniversary weekend of when his father discovered that HE had testicular cancer...
Awesome, right?

He went to the doctor yesterday, and was told that it was probably a blocked vesicle or something else of a non-cancery nature, but the doc can't be sure, and there is a family history....soooooo:

He's having an ultrasound this afternoon to try and confirm the nature of the lump.

Despite my best efforts, I vacillate between rage and despair.

I'm repeatedly telling myself that it's not cancer and that the tests are going to be fine, but even if they are (and I can't BREATHE until I know for sure)--

Are you efffing KIDDING ME? With all that we are struggling with, Life's just gonna throw a cancer-scare in there for shits and giggles? It's just too much.


I was already depressed as hell, and I can't say this is helping. Even poor hubby has cracked...

We need some pure, unadulterated, good fortune to come our way with a damn quickness. PLEASE.

If that weren't enough, they're trying to deny my insurance coverage.

Wooo!!!

I'm hoping it's just a clerical error, but I have yet to get on the phone with an actual person to find out. I loathe, LOATHE automated systems...

If they want more money, they are S-O-frikkenL. We don't have anymore money. Especially with all of the time Spouseface has had to take off given the various health upsets. I don't think he's gotten a full 40 hr check in two months, which is, ya know, "helpful" and stuff....

As far as post-surgical-update:

I'm doing okay. I had some complications with my pain meds and ended up in the ER on the Saturday night after my surgery, but they switched them and fixed that problem. The pain was FAR worse than I had expected, as was my lack of mobility and the fatigue. Thankfully, the pain is manageable now...I still can't bend, twist or pick up/carry O (which breaks my heart), but at  least I can finally walk around . The fatigue, however, is crushing me.

I suppose I should've seen that coming, given I already have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, but I was still caught off-guard... (E-X-H-A-U-S-T-E-D. Dead. Sadness.)...
maybe because lapro-surgery is made to sound so easy-peezy. It's not, just-so-you-know.

Sure, it's better than open surgery, but it's STILL MAJOR SURGERY. I think the fact that it's out-patient is a little dangerous, honestly.

That about sums it up. I'm pained, exhausted, kinda heartbroken (on many levels), and financially tapped OUT, but no gall bladder attacks or unexplained abdominal pain (the hernia), so HEY, that's great!

Or Something Like That....

Please keep my sweet Husbandface in your thoughts. We are doing are best to keep our chins up, and expect the best, but I know he's scared (I'm terrified), and we could use all the luck we can get. Hopefully the scans today are all negative (in the positive way) and happy.

I'll keep you updated...

Eviction Notice.

For my gall bladder, that is.

I FINALLY saw the general surgeon yesterday morning and he said its gotta come OUT.

This makes me relieved and nervous at the same time.

I'll be glad to not have gall attacks anymore (I was in the ER AGAIN last Saturday), but surgery always is a little risky...

Will it be fine? I'm sure it will, but having O has made me a bit of a NervousNellie.

The surgery hasn't been scheduled, the surgeon has to get approval from Medi-Cal first. I hope it goes smoothly and speedily so this I can get this mess over with!

I still haven't gotten the results of the biopsies they did during my colonoscopy, so there's no updates on that yet.

[I did file a complaint, btw. Just a written one-I had no desire to get all sue-y about it, I just wanted to make sure it was documented so it hopefully won't happen to someone else]

I never heard from the Uro guy after that craptacular appointment, so I'm thinking I'm going to have to find another one and start that process all over again.
Yaaaaaaay.

But, while having the bladder of an incontinent octogenarian isn't exactly sexy, it ain't life-threatening, so I'm putting it on the back burner 'til the gallbladder/colon/stomach sitch is figured out.

Other than that,
I'm exhausted.
STRESSED.
Fighting off a bout of depression.

I lay awake at night wondering how we're going to weather all of this financially.

Weirdest of all, though?

I really want to have another baby.

I KNOW. I must really be going off the deep-end...

I think I'm just afraid we won't be able to try for another one before the option is taken away from me health-wise...?

I know that I am super-lucky to have one healthy baby, and I'm not trying to be greedy, but I know that the Hubs and I would be sad if we didn't at least try to have a sibling for O.

Anyhoo-in happier news:

O's FIRST BIRTHDAY party is on Saturday!

(I'm having a hard time accepting that he'll be 1 soon.)
I'm excited, but WORRIED. We had planned to have it in the backyard, but with the weather being all torrential, I don't think that's happening...and my IL's downstairs isn't exactly "kid-friendly."

I know O won't give a rip, but I just want it to be a special day.

Cross your fingers!

I'll post about the festivities next week!!!

DUDE. That was.... so.not.okay.

Let's talk about this morning...

I'm not even going to get into the preparations that were required for this event.

[Let's just say that no one ever wants to pee outta their ass. It's just not sexy.]


So we arrived bright and early to the hospital at 8am this morning.

I was hungry and exhausted.

I get in there and they start the prep and the nurse informs me that not only are they scoping my "back door," they'll be scoping my throat...

I was not aware of this.

After a brief panic, I quieted my flight response by reminding myself of the heavy sedation.

Everyone I know that has had a colonoscopy said that they felt nothing and remembered even less.

It was going to be all anesthesia and roses!

Well, my friends:

It was FUCKING NOT.

I felt EVERYTHING and remembered EVERYTHING.


I kept trying to tell them that something was not right as I cried out in pain, but they kept reassuring me that I had been given plenty of sedation, and any more would be dangerous.

[I honestly don't know if they just didn't give me enough, or if my drip just wasn't effective-I can't tell you what the hell happened, but I was not sedated properly.]

So trying not to sob*, I got through the rest.

When I asked if they were already done with the throat portion, the nurse cheerfully replied:

"See, Honey? You were sedated, you don't even remember that we did it."


Oh, I remembered, lady. It was just quicker than I thought, and I was afraid there might be more.


By the end, as the fear subsided, I was pissed.

When they read the after-care instructions to me and the Hubs before the procedure, we were told that I would be so out of it that I wouldn't even be able to dress myself, and we need help getting up/going to the bathroom for the REST of the DAY.


Out of it, you say? I think NOT.

IMMEDIATELY after the procedure, I slammed back two cups of apple juice, dressed MYSELF, gathered up my discharge papers and got the hell outta dodge.

I came home, ate some lunch, chatted with our baby sitter, changed my clothes and cuddled with my son.

I was as coherent as my intestines are long.

Asshats.


I don't know if I should file a complaint. I don't want to be *that* lady, but it was kinda horrifying.


I've been ill at ease all day.

I took some pain pills, and took a long nap, hoping I would wake up feeling better about the whole thing, but I'm still just as upset.


I am being overly dramatic?


I won't have any news about the outcome of the colonoscopy/throat scope until the results of the biopsies come back some time next week.


I'll keep y'all in the loop as I get more info.














*During my 2003 sexual assault, I was entered anally repeatedly, so I don't like anything being forced up my butt, medically necessary or not. Anything of that nature brings back things I'd rather not remember.

You want to put What WHERE? And you want me to PAY you?

Latest on Gall-Gate '10:


So I have to have a colonoscopy....
(yeah, you want to be me, fo sho')

I'm not afraid, I'm just pissed.

It's undignified that I should have to pay $2000.00 for someone to shove a tuby camera up my ass.

You know what we really send me into oblivion? If I go thru all of this nonsense and they don't find a thing.

Not that I want something to be hideously wrong, but COME ON NOW.

They best find something....

At least the Gastro specialist was nice.

The Urology specialist was an asshat.

He wouldn't even listen to me. He was INSISTENT that my issues were because I was so "severely overweight" and because I didn't do enough Kegels.

When I pointed out that neither my OBGYN nor my PCP felt that weight was an issue, and both felt that I had bladder damage due to various occurrences, Mr. Pee King kept telling me to stop eating junk food and to make an effort to exercise...something I OBVIOUSLY wasn't doing.

Now, I'm not one to use the ..."But I'm big-boned" excuse. I know that I need to lose weight. But I'm not a rabid junk foodie who lays around all day, bathing in trans-fats. I am, however, someone who eats pretty damn healthily but put on a lot of weight due to trauma, being ill, taking different meds, and my metabolism shuddering to a stop...

And not to play the "placard card," but I have Cerebral Palsy and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

It's not like I can take a 5 mile jog to my advanced spin class and then Bikram Yoga pose my ass home.

(It takes all my energy to take care of my son and our little household.)

As SUCH- the generalization angers me. I realize that the "good doctor" is looking at it from a health perspective, but he took it several steps beyond (At one point he actually said the word fat and then caught himself a bit late) to disrespectful.

I'm no wisp of a woman, but I'm not Mama Grape, either.

In short, I need to see another Uro guy.

When I followed up with my PCP, he was PISSED. That made me feel a little better. lol...

[What didn't make me feel better? The $200 cost of my visit.]

In terms of my gall bladder, I've had a few more small attacks, but I'm still waiting for an appointment with a general surgeon, so no new progress on that. Boo.


So for those keeping score, here's what we've learned so far-

Jack and Shit.

That jewel of knowledge has cost me $4200 as of now, and I haven't even gotten my lab bills yet.

Oh, I almost forgot...

I also have a chest infection. Woo.



I'm *this* close to losing it.

But with this face looking at me,



I do my best to keep on keepin' on. We've gotta catch a break at some point.



Right?


Guys.....?



Sigh.

Well, it's better than a poke in the eye with a stick...

I guess.

Here's the update on Gall-Gate 2010:

My ER bill came to $6000.00.

Yes, that's THOUSAND....

After being on the phone forEVER, and basically being told that I was S.O.L. (because my Hubs makes too much, GUFFAW.)as far as financial assistance goes, I found out that I at least qualify for Share-of-Cost Medi-Cal.

Basically, it means that on a monthly basis, I have a certain amount that I have to pay out of pocket if I seek any kind of medical care--My "Share of Cost". After I meet that amount, any other care I receive within that month is covered, as long as I see a doctor that is a Medi-Cal Provider. If a month goes by and I haven't sought any medical attention, than I owe nothing. I only pay for what I use.

Not too shabby, no?

Sure!

Except my SOC is $2000.00 a month.

$2000.00 a month is pretty much our entire monthly income.

So, yeah. FML, right?

RIGHT.

There's a the silver(ISH) lining:

Because I have the SOC plan in place, I only had to pay $2000 of the $6000 bill. Yaaaay!

BUT, because you have to pay your SOC within the month it was used, there was no option to make payments on the 2 Gs. It was all or nothing, baby.

We had to borrow from my ILs. I have no idea how we're gong to pay them back, because I have appts. to have consultations with the 3 specialists next month, and those will all be out of pocket. Chances are, if they agree with my PCP and schedule surgery, I won't be able to have surgery 'til November. We're still trying to recup after the trips to WV.

Where the HELL are we supposed to pull these funds from?

Hubs and I figure that by the end of it all (if we're lucky), we're going to be looking at $6-8000.00 spent, which is WAY better than it could be, but still enough to cripple me with anxiety.

We've been working so hard to financially stabilize, I feel like all of our work is slowly becoming undone.

I can't fathom how we're going to rebound from this. It's already breaking us financially.

Not to mention, O's bday is coming up, and there's the holidays.

Every Christmas is rough for us b/c Hub's company shuts down for a week during the holiday. It's unpaid.

So every Christmas, we sit at home, somewhat appreciative of the little "vaycay," but panicked over the lost income.


It's gonna be a Blue Christmas, kids.


I'm HOPING that I'll go see all of these specialists, they'll run their tests, and sum it up with:

You're fine!

If I'm being honest with myself, I know SOMETHING isn't fine.

I don't feel well, and haven't for quite some time.

We'll see what happens!

Wish me luck thru this process. I need it.

I'll keep y'all in the loop as much as I can!

I don't even know what to say, other than: F@#K!

I am angry.

I want to throw myself on the floor and have a fit.

That kind of angry.

I ended up in the ER on Saturday morning at 3 am with abdominal pain so bad it made me cry/unable to breathe.
As it had been going on for a week in earnest, I finally relented and went to the ER.

Found out I had gallstones.

The ER referred my to my primary care physician.
[He's technically my MIL's considering I don't have insurance, but I see him when it's urgent]

After talking to him about my current symptoms and the on-going ones I've had for the last year (but kept rationalizing in my head as not a big deal-in my defense, so did others, making me doubt their severity), he told me that I needed to go see not one, not Two, but THREE different specialists.

[A Gastrointerologist, a Urologist, and a Surgeon. Kinda like the nursery rhyme, but more college]

FML.

I won't go into all of it until I have concrete info, but he definitely thinks I need my gall bladder removed, could need bladder surgery, and he thinks I may also have ulcerative colitis or Chrohn's disease.

Hubs is afraid it's Cancer.
{I doubt it.}
He shouldn't be allowed on WebMD anymore.

Sooo, as mentioned before, I'm pissed.

I keep waiting for some good luck to befall us, or for all of our perseverance to finally pay off, and instead, we get more crap to deal with.

I have NO idea how we're going to pay for this.

I will be spending the next week on the phone calling everywhere I can think of to try and get some assistance.

I don't qualify for MediCal, no one will insure me, and the high-risk pools have long waiting lists with even longer price tags, so I've gotta do some digging to see what else is out there. There's gotta be a way to make this cheaper. If not, I suppose there's always bankruptcy....yeeeesh.

Either way, I've gotta start taking care of this ASAP so it doesn't get worse.



My biggest fear in this mess (besides bankruptcy and/or destitution)?

1. I'll go thru all the tests and pay all this money to find out that it's somehow NOTHING

OR,

2. I'll go thru all the tests and it will be Cancer.


[Personally, if I had to pick, I'm shooting for Door #1.]

The Countdown Begins...can it go faster?

If O comes on time, he will be here in 62 days.

That seems like eons from now. Induction is seeming more and more lovely. Ha!

To be frank-

I am in so much pain, I can't F&^#ing STAND IT.

My lower body and its corresponding muscles and joints are staging a revolt.

They've been at if for a  months, and they're not being peaceful about it...

They're making me feel useless and handicapped.

While I technically AM handicapped (I prefer the term disabled. Never use "handicapable in my presence, k? It will not end well), it's been a long time since I have truly felt that way.

I can't get out of bed without help. The stairs are my nemesis. I started crying while trying to put on my own underwear.


These are some old, familiar, feelings that I never wanted to revisit.

I described the pain to my OB today at my appointment thusly:

"Imagine you were me. Pregnant with CP. Then imagine that you had to simultaneously bike the Tour de France AND do the "Rocky" stair climb. Hit repeat til dead."

This is what it feels like I've done to my body.



His paraphrased answer was:

"sucks to be you, but there isn't really anything I can do."

And BTW, It will "get worse before it gets better."


Fuuuuuuuuuc.......me.

(Wait, that's how I got into this mess.)


He has told me to stay in bed.
Great.
Bed Rest.

He also suggested regular prenatal massages.....

As that is not a service covered by Medi-Cal or our wallets, it looks like I'll have to make due with the shower head aimed strategically and set to (as my husband has so charmingly deemed it) "masturbate".

Oh, the joys that lie ahead.

62 days.

Oh.My.SWEET.LOOOOORDY.

PS.

Owen is fine.

So am I.

Okay.

Not really, but I'm not near death or anything.

I just want to disconnect the top half of my body from the lower half.

No Big.

I should be back to my only "slightly gimpy" self after he is born.

And, No.

It is not okay for you to use the term "gimpy" in my presence either....

This is going to be one of those "Did she REALLY just share that?" posts...

So I had my 6 month visit with the Obgyn today.

Technically, I'm at 26 weeks, not 24, but whatever.

But on that note, my fundal measurement (the length from the top of your uterus to your pubic bone) is measuring at 28 weeks, so Owen could be here early.

Which is what I've been saying all ALONG, but my Doc keeps shooting that down...WHAT DOES HE KNOW? He's just the doctor. Ha.

I also gained 6 lbs since my appointment last month. I'm only supposed to gain 3-4 lbs a month, so I felt pretty behemoth (don't even get me started on the TOTAL number, yiiikes), but since I was still negative 3 lbs from my starting weight at the previous visit, I'd technically only gained 3 lbs.

He was happy with this, I was not.

I'm afraid the weight is going to start snowballing in these last 3 months.

I've heard that happening to a lot of pregnant women and it scares me.

Not from a vanity standpoint, but a health one.

I did not start this pregnancy a small girl, and even though I'd SWORN to myself that I would lose all the weight I gained after the rape before I got pregnant....

the intervening 5 years has taught me that A. life never goes according to plan, and B. 100 lbs is WAAAAAY easier to gain than it is to lose.

Obviously, being overweight is not ideal, pregnant or not, so the concept of adding 20-a gazillion lbs to that is scary, but I mostly worry about it in terms of things like gestational diabetes, and healthy labor and delivery. In 3 weeks, I'll have my glucose test, so I'm even more nervous.

I know, I just have to be careful, and I can't beat myself up, but I can't help it sometimes....


All that being said, Owen is doing great, so I should just shut up and be grateful!

On to the TMI portion of our program.....


I'm pretty sure that at this point, my vagina hates me.
I'm thinking it's because she knows of the battle that lies ahead, and is none-too-pleased about it.

I can't be sure of this of course, but all I know is that from the day I got pregnant, I have had nothing but issues in the "lady business" area.

Bladder infections, yeast infections, urinary tract....ay yai yai! It's like she's leading a protest revolt or something....

If that wasn't enough, over the last couple of months, sex has become incredibly painful.
Like the "don't even come near me, no matter how much lube you have" kind of painful.

My poor husband. He's been so understanding and patient, but the poor bastard just wants to get laid, and it's kinda, really, NOT happening for him.

First it was the morning/all day vomiting, then the round after round of antibiotics, now this.

So, I mention this in passing to my doctor last month, and he says:

"No worries, probably just from lack of sex in the previous months. Take it slow, use lube, foreplay, you'll be fine."


No dice!

So I mention it AGAIN today, during my appointment. He asks me to describe it (the pain) in a bit more detail....

Now, I am not a shy or conservative woman, but there's something a little unnerving about having to say the following the man who will deliver your child:

"Well, when he tries to penetrate, it hurts the way it would if you were still recovering from a previous night of really rough, unlubed sex, and THEN were stupid enough to go at it again at full tilt, without a breather....KnowwhatImean?"


The words just fell OUT OF MY MOUTH.

It was like I couldn't stop myself. Oh, wait, that's right: I DIDN'T.

Well, the look on his face was priceless.

He then proceeded to clear his throat, and ask me if I had any history with herpes and/or other STDs.

Thought I was going to DIE.  Roseanne Roseannadanna-style.

After I vehemently stated that I have never had herpes or any other type of creepy-crawly in my bathing suit area, he moved on to doing a vaginal culture, and concluded that it is probably a type of "non-infectious vaginitis" (mmmmmhmm, SEXY) which is apparently, super-common.

Oh, goody!
Treatment?
MORE antibiotics, and you guessed it, no sex.



Sorry, Hubalubs.

Looks like I'm not the only one "SHE" hates......