The Girl With The X'd Out Eyes
Me: it is close
Me: i am not happy about that
Me: i hope they do a good job and don't fucking kill me this time
Him: They will
Me: kill me? i don't doubt it a bit
Him: Do a good job
Me: they better or ima sue him too
Me: or you will have to
Me: cuz i will have x'd out eyes
Him: No Xd out eyes for you
Posted by gwendolyn on February 28, 2003 at 04:48 PM
Two Down, One To Go
The flexible sigmoidoscopy went extremely well. I begged for extra good drugs and obviously they obliged. One minute I was laying on the table hooked up to IV and blood pressure cuff and little probes on my chest and being asked to turn over to my left side while watching a tv screen that was showing the top of the tray where the big bad flash light scope was turned on and taking pictures of the table top. They gave me some meds through my IV and the next thing I knew I woke up and Terry was beside me and I was in a different room. I kept thinking it hadn't all happened yet. It seemed impossible to me. I vaguely remember Dr. W coming in to tell me everything was great and then I got dressed and left. The whole ordeal is still fuzzy. I just cannot believe I actually got to sleep through it. That was probably the easiest trip to the hospital I have ever had. I have spent the rest of the day groggy and napping but I am not in pain. I am just so thankful that I was knocked out and spared the trauma for once.
Posted by gwendolyn on February 27, 2003 at 04:07 PM
No Time To Say Hello! Goodbye!
I have absoultely no clue why I have had the last three appointments with Dr. O except I have a sneaking suspicion he likes to charge the insurance company, and me for that matter, a lot of money for three minutes of "Hello, you are fine, Goodbye." He could freaking call me for that.
It is a lot of crap to go through to get three children washed, combed, fed and ready, into the car, seat belted, driven through traffic to the hospital on time and without anyone blacking anyone elses eye, back out of the car, across the parking lot, past the fountain that makes them all deaf to my pleading to hurry up and get on the elevator, fighting over who gets to push the buttons, then up and out of the elevator, into the potty at least once or twice, to the drinking fountain, to the check-in desk, then in the waiting room seats for half an hour or more, then waiting for a year in an examining room, and finally getting them to be quiet and sit still long enough for him to actually talk to me. Then I have to get them out of the winding halls of the doctor's office, then for more drinks, then back down the elevator while they are fighting over who is going to push the buttons all the way, once more past the water fountain which seems to mezmorize them into stupidity so they don't follow directions, get their hands all held together again to trek back across the parking lot, fight them into seat belts and car seat and then fight traffic to get back home again. I need a nap by the time I get done with the whole thing.
He hasn't even listened to me breathe or anything the last three times. Still, he insists on setting appointments for me to come back to see him. It can't be because I bring the kids with me. If that were the case he would have stopped making appointments with me a long time ago. Today was the first time that he didn't. Instead, he gave me a copy of the CT Scan results that say I don't have anymore pulmonary emboli, congratulated me and told me to frame it and hang it on my wall.
This is yet another milestone that puts me closer to The Big Day. He said that he has informed Dr. W (colorectal surgeon) that I am free and clear for surgery. That I am to wear the ambulatory cuffs and have plenty of heprin shots after the surgery. And then sent me on my way.
There. One more specialist I can mark off my list. At least for now. I wonder if I will see him again. I guess I should have said thank you while I had the chance.
Posted by gwendolyn on February 25, 2003 at 05:48 PM
No More Starbucks For Me
I cannot drink coffee anymore. I spent way too much time awake last night and way too much time too exhausted to wake up this morning. Now I feel horribly polluted. No matter how appealing a Starbuck's Grande Cafe Mocha with whipped cream sounds at 8p.m. I cannot do it ever again.
I am thinking that it would be good to get some smoothie ingredients at the store this evening.
My mother is coming back tomorrow. She will be here until March 13th if everything goes perfectly. If not, who knows how long she will have to stay. Terry's mother will be here on the 13th but she is only staying for a few days.
I wish I could go to sleep on the 26th and just wake up when it is all over with and I am all healed up and having no discomfort. I have to try not to talk about it anymore. There is really no point in dwelling on it every single minute. I am making myself crazy with it.
Posted by gwendolyn on February 24, 2003 at 01:40 PM
Me And My Shadow
I honestly wish this whole medical disaster were over with so I could get back to being me, back to posting random funny perverted conversations, good ideas I try real hard to stick with but never seem to follow through with, things that make me feel something other than sad and just everyday normal stuff that makes me... Me.
Somehow, I just can't. No matter how normal I want to feel I have all of this stuff lurking in the shadows waiting to cause anxiety and trauma. I can pretty much be regular old me until I sit down here to write a post. Then it all goes to shit again and all I can talk about is the feeling of impending doom. I wonder why that is.
I guess it isn't just when I am writing here, it is also when I look at my children and wonder if I will see them grow up, when I ride around in the car and realize the world is so big and I am so small, and when I think about planning for anything past two weeks from now and stop myself because there may just be no point in it. I have to stop and think about maybe being in misery in the hospital, or worse, not being here at all. I fucking hate this. I know it is a sick morbid way to think. It can't be too healthy that is for sure. So why can't I stop? Why can't I just believe that very good things are about to happen to me? Everyone else keeps trying to tell me that it is going to be easy and good. I don't trust anyone anymore. It is sad.
Posted by gwendolyn on at 12:49 AM
I have always hated P.E.
Today I got a call from the pulmonary doctor. He told me to be careful not to fall down today. It seems last week my blood test showed my level to be 1.6. He tries to keep adjusting the medication to keep me at 2.0. The results he was calling me about said I am now at 5.3. This means that my blood is extremely thin. It also means that I could fall on my face and pass out. It means if I get a cut I could bleed to death. It means if I hit my knee on the coffee table it will leave a huge nasty bruise.I have now stopped the blood thinning drugs completely as I can't have the sigmoidocopy until I have been off of them for at least five days. To you this means absolutely nothing, to me it is another signal that the waiting and worrying and preparing is nearly over with. I will either do well and be out of there quickly or I will develop complications and start this nightmare all over again.
Thankfully, the CT Scan I had done seems to show that the pulmonary emboli are all gone with the exception of possibly one teeny tiny one left in my right lung. The Radiologist hadn't read the films yet but Dr. O looked at them and said everything looks good. I asked him about the ongoing coughing and if it was going to postpone the big day. He said there is no fluid in my lungs and that if I have anything it is bronchial. He thinks there is plenty of time for me to get over the cough before I go in. Let's hope he is right.
Posted by gwendolyn on February 21, 2003 at 02:33 PM
One Down, Two To Go
Today was part one of this three part nightmare. Today I went in for my gastrografin enema and my pulmonary embolism CT Scan. I really don't want to rehash the torment and torture of it so I will just say...I went in for the xray calm and giving myself little silent pep talks about being tough and Queen of the Fuckin Universe and all. It wasn't nearly as bad as I remember the first one being. Still, it wasn't an experience I care to repeat.
The next part will be harder than this one and a lot less hard than the third one. In seven days I will be going in for the Flexible Sigmoidoscopy. This could potentially put another hole in my colon and start the whole Groundhog Day effect over again. I will be sedated but not under. This doesn't comfort me. It means I will know and feel what is going on and be absolutely mute and immobile. So I am pretty unhappy with having this step to take. When the doctors tell you that you won't remember procedures, they aren't always right.
Then four days later I will go in for The Big One. I have to get through step two before I can even start considering the impact of that.
I most likely have a hernia from the pressure of my coughing fits. They can't repair it now anyway and it won't matter for much longer as they are going in to carve it all up again in two weeks. Somehow I don't feel very relieved about that.
Posted by gwendolyn on February 20, 2003 at 12:41 AM
QFU vs. The Big Bad Virus
I have been fighting a horrible cold this week. The entire tribe has it but it seems to be kicking my ass to the point of hacking up lung tissue during coughing episodes that seem to last for-fucking-ever. I can't sleep at night. I can't even lay down. Just when I was getting all cozy and used to actually resting during the night it all gets taken away from me again. I seem to be drowning in my own fluids. It is so gross.
My battle strategy so far has been mostly relying on heaping doses of good ol' Tussin, gallons of hot herbal tea, my witchy woman onion tea which Mr.Monkeyboy just adores, hella strong menthol cough drops by the handfulls, Vick's Vapor Rub (after my own home brewed vapor rub didn't seem to be cutting it but now I know that Vick's isn't cutting it either), and now the Pulmonary doctor has thrown in some antibiotics for kicks. The new family doctor I am seeing said it was a virus and that we would all just have to let it run it's course. She also said antibiotics wouldn't do anything for it. Then she politely led me to the front counter where they robbed me blind. So given that information, I have no clue why I just chewed up a 500mg Levequin, I guess to make Dr. O happy and the drug people richer.
I asked Dr. O if they would still cut on me with me hacking up my lungs and he seemed to think they will. I am thinking coughing fits will not be too fun with a four inch line of staples holding all my guts together and a nasogastric tube shoved down my nose, but does my opinion count?
Thankfully, the little people and Mr. Monkey aren't hacking quite as much. They are all sickly and I hate that they are but at least they all seem to be sleeping through it okay.
It is quite possible that I am developing a hernia around my ileostomy from coughing so much. I think I pulled something in the general area of the middle of my ribs also. For those of you keeping score The Big Bad Virus is definitely winning.
Posted by gwendolyn on February 18, 2003 at 12:31 AM
Assholes Are Running The Show
It would seem that the operation is back on. The assholes from the hospital and the assholes from the insurance company finally got their shit all worked out and now BAM! we are going to be covered (according to our insurance company). I love how they play God with people's lives like that. Don't you?
Posted by gwendolyn on February 11, 2003 at 01:19 PM
Never Enough
I found out this morning that the hospital and doctors treating me are no longer going to be covered by my insurance as of Thursday. I was having a hard time accepting having to go back in to do all of this simply because I am just now feeling pretty normal again and really very tired of being sick and in pain. The consolation prize was to get through it all alive and eventually be healthy and intact. However, now it seems I'm not going back at all and I am having an even harder time with that.
For the last four months in the back of my mind I have been preparing myself for the possibility that something would happen that would make this situation I am in a permanent one. Just in case something was wrong with me that would prevent the reversal. Though even farther in the back of my mind I never let myself be fully prepared because the idea of having a hole in my stomach and walking around with a plastic bag glued to me for the rest of my life wasn't something I would ever be okay with. It is hard enough to be scarred from top to bottom and side to side with a few puncture holes thrown in for good measure. To have a permanent ileostomy when I have a perfectly healthy large intestine sitting in there not doing anything at all, that is just hard. There could have been a hundred reasons why the reversal couldn't take place. I never dreamed it would be because I couldn't afford it.
I was told there is a window of opportunity for me to be able to have it reversed. By the time I save enough money to cover the part they will want up front of the 40% the insurance won't pay for a non-network provider the window may be closed. On the other hand, I may be able start over with different doctors and hospital who takes my insurance. Would they know what to do about all of the things that have been wrong with me? Would they know all my quirks and be able to handle things should I try to bleed to death on the table or the blood clots in my lungs decide to cause trouble? It is hard to think of trying to explain this whole mess to a whole new set of specialists. Even if I could would there be enough time?
I can't seem to beat this thing. No matter what I do to get through it, it's never enough.