Okay, I'm going to try to keep from getting too sappy and emotional - but no guarantees....
First of all, I feel it's really important to point out that years and years of watching Grey's Anatomy and ER did not prepare me AT ALL for this experience. Like, at all.
First revelation: This is the most vulnerable I have felt in my life. I really (really) like to be in control, and in this particular situation I had no control at all. Looking back, I honestly do not know what kept me from running from the operating room (it might have had something to do with the hospital gown...) but I actually felt calm going in. The room was cold. The table was small. The faces were unfamiliar. I had only met the surgeon once before for a total of 20 minutes, and here I was trusting her to cut me open, take out an organ, and sew me back up. And I get that nurses do what they do every single day, but for me it was all completely new so it would have been nice if one or two of them laughed at my stupid jokes to ease the awkwardness...
My mom tells me I have been saying *me do myself* since I was two years old. So this was really an exercise in trusting and relying on others to help me do what I could not do myself...like sit up and walk.
I also felt completely vulnerable trusting that my body would do what it needed to do in order to heal. For me, this was terrifying. Would it fight off infection? Would the stitches take? Would it know how to mend itself back together? Thankfully, the answer is YES, but it was anxiety provoking, to say the least. For those of you following, the deets: My tumor was benign, no cancer or precancerous cells found, and approximately the size of a 18-19 week fetus. I have a 5 1/2 inch scar that is healing awesomely.
There is nothing like something like this to make you realize how completely um...fragile...we all are. Driving home from the hospital, I was conscious of every single car, every single red light, every single speed limit. Like, OMG people....slow down....don't you know we could all die?!?!?! Do you want to die!?!
Revelation #2: I have to say that I have a HUGE appreciation for women who have C-sections (read: more than one...) I mean, recovering from major surgery and looking after a new born baby?!?!?!?! And doing this more than once!?!?!?!?! Seriously blows my mind. Women are power houses. And the resiliency of people who have gone through horrible things like cancer, multiple and/or invasive surgeries, or extreme pain absolutely ASTOUNDS me. Humans are amazing creatures and capable of enduring so much. Like, two of the three people I shared the hospital room with who SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT, despite the guy in the bed beside me who cried all night long, and the incessant beeping of the nurse call button or the monitors. Who sleeps with all that going on? Obviously someone with good sleep meds. But in all seriousness, to anyone who has ever gone through something outside of the norm, you have my admiration.
Revelation #3: I HATE being stoned. I don't need to spend much time on this point. Just that I would rather be in a bit more pain and be able to finish my sentence coherently than being higher than a kite. This is a bit upsetting for me because I was looking forward to legitimately and legally being high on Percocet. I mean, I didn't even have enough of an attention span to play Candy Crush. This must be a Type A quality...
Revelation #4: Attitude is everything. I don't miss my uterus. At least not yet. I think if it were my arm or a leg that was missing and I could actually see it was gone then I would maybe grieve it a little more. But I can't see that it's missing. I don't miss it. And at the end of the day, it wasn't really a choice. It had to come out. I come from three generations (at least) of Miller women who have had the same thing. I am grateful. Grateful that we found it so quickly, grateful that I am healing well, grateful that there were no major complications, grateful that I am still ALIVE. I have a beautiful son (who....well, let's face it....everything is riding on him now as my only biological heir. He has a lot to live up to...I hope he doesn't crack under pressure...hahahaha, just joking....he's doing pretty well, so far....).
Revelation #5: Single parenting SUCKS. For the first 10 days I had a difficult time even looking after myself, so Q stayed with his dad. He would come and visit for a few hours. It made me realize this: It is impossible to be a *parent* every other Wednesday and Sunday. When Q came over for a *visit*, he was shy,quiet and things were awkward for the first little while. I had things planned out so that we could make the most of the time we spent together. We played board games and worked on some homework and had a cuddle session on the couch. And then he would leave. I didn't feel like a parent. I felt like a friend of the family. My opinion on co-parenting: Unless a parent is physically or emotionally abusive or there are extreme circumstances, parents should be allowed to parent their child equally - regardless of how inconvenient it might be for the other parent. It was the worst, most helpless I've ever felt as a parent. You cannot establish a strong relationship once a week. It is impossible.
Revelation #6: I have amazing people in my life. I'm not going to lie - I was feeling a little sorry for myself when this all first happened. Because if you're married and something like this happens, you have someone to bounce things off of, someone to help you make decisions, someone to wake up in the middle of the night and say *What if...* or *Will you still love me if...* and I didn't have that. I had to make decisions on my own and then deal with the repercussions...on my own. What I will say is that I have an amazing group of friends and family who have totally rallied around me. From my brother and sis-in-law who would FaceTime with my niece after afternoon naps to my mom who came to stay with me for two weeks and did everything for me to my BFF who dropped everything to come and stay with me for a week less than a month away from Christmas to those who checked in with me daily just to see how I was doing. I know these people all had things to do, commitments to keep, lives to live, and they put it all aside to be with me. It means so much more to me than I could ever say.
Revelation #7: Faith is an amazing thing. Faith is hard. It's trusting in something and Someone you cannot see. But I can honestly say that I would not have been able to get through this without faith. Faith that there is something bigger than me and a plan that I cannot see. I find comfort in knowing that God's hand is in everything. It has united me with people from all ages, races, and walks of life. I have had people praying for me and we've been brought together by our belief that The Big Guy Upstairs has the final say - not some dumb tumor. While I certainly don't feel invincible, I know Someone who is, and He's got His eye on me. I'd seriously recommend this faith thing to everyone and anyone who is searching for something more.
Those are my main revelations. The Type A, OCD'er in me would really like there to be an even number of revelations, but what are you gonna do about it, right?
Seven is my lucky number, so I guess it all works out in the end.
Sunday, November 29, 2015
Friday, November 13, 2015
Happy Birthday To Me
Being a hypochondriac, I tend to avoid the doctor. Because if I went to the doctor every time I thought something was wrong, I would be there every other day. It amazes me that that, with all the things that could go wrong, more often than not our bodies are well oiled machines.
However, in the spring I kept getting bacterial infections - Strep throat, UTI's. My period, which was always consistent, knocking on my door every 28 days was becoming a very unexpected visitor, coming whenever it wanted and staying for longer than I would like. And being a total B**** while it was here.
So I went to the doctor. We did the whole 9 yards of testing and were relieved to find that the only thing out of whack was my blood sugars. Low enough that I was not diabetic (yet) but high enough to warrant some radical lifestyle changes in order to ensure I would not be diabetic within the next few years.
I started by cutting out sugar. This, for me, was almost as hard as quitting smoking. I love sugar. In everything. I have sweet teeth, not a sweet tooth. Once that was done, I cut out gluten, dairy and red meat. Within weeks, I had lost 8lbs and 2 inches from my stomach (probably from bloating...). I was feeling great. People were noticing a difference. Clothes were fitting looser.
Then I felt it.
I wasn't quite sure what "it" was. It was hard and it was in my abdomen. I knew I had been eating better, so the thought crossed my mind that under the layers of fat that had been shed I had rock hard abs and wouldn't have to worry about doing 100 sit ups every night and every morning. I was also hoping the same phenomena would show itself in my behind and thighs.
I was in the doc's office getting results for something else and this voice in my head kept saying, "Tell her about it. Tell her about it. Tell her about it." So I did. Prefacing it with my, "I know I'm a hypochondriac, but..."
This led to a very awkward moment whereby I had to tell my doctor 3 times I was sure I was not pregnant because I have not had sex in a very long time and I was certain that was a necessary link in the pregnancy chain. My doctor should not play poker because her poker face sucks. She went white and very serious and had me in for a CT scan within days. The next day the result:
I do not have rock hard abs.
I have a rock hard tumor.
In my uterus.
The size of a melon.
Days after that, I had appointments with specialists and biopsies were booked.
Ten days later I was sitting in the specialist's office when she told me it has grown even more and is now sitting just under my rib cage. I look...pregnant... Two minutes into our visit, we had booked a total hysterectomy for the following week. That's this coming Monday.
Monday I will join the hundreds of thousands of women who have gone before me with reproductive "issues" and total hysterectomies. Two of which are my paternal grandmother and aunt.
Monday I will no longer be able to have any more biological children.
I've been trying to figure out how I feel about that. My whole life, I thought for sure I'd have oodles of children running around with my blood running through their veins. When Q's dad and I split, I thought for sure someone else would come along to make that dream happen. And now, here we are...he (whomever *he* is) hasn't shown up yet, and now my uterus is exiting stage left (or abdomen, lower right).
Here's the thing, I think I'm totally okay with it. Like, I've forced myself to try and get really sad over it - but I just can't. Maybe I'm in shock, because from finding the mass to surgery date has been just under a month. But maybe, I'm just okay with it. I would rather choose life, than hope for something that might not ever happen. My life has taken many twists and turns that I certainly have not planned, but every twist has turned out better than I could have ever planned. The truth is, I'm relieved.
I'm relieved I found it.
I'm relieved I listened to that little voice in my head.
I'm relieved the doctors have moved on it so fast.
I'm relieved soon my organs won't be so squished and my lower back won't hurt and my tummy won't feel so bloated and it won't feel like I have to pee every 5 minutes.
I'm relieved technology has come so far that this is considered a *low-risk* operation and that my gynecologist is totally hip and wears Fluvogs. I feel like I can trust some one's judgement in the operating room if I can approve of their fashion choices.
And then let's talk about the blessings:
No more periods. NO more cramps. 4-6 weeks of spa (I mean, recovery...) time. And like 10lbs instant weight loss.
Also, I have been reminded over and over again just how am blessed that I have so many wonderful friends and family around me who have listened while I've processed things out loud, who have been praying for me, and who have been gifting me with awesome things to do with the next six weeks of free time that I have on my hands (adult colouring books and the newly released Humans of New York book). Any my mother, who has dropped everything to nurse me back to health. What would I do without my momma?
I wasn't going to blog about this, because it's my uterus. And that's kind of private and uncomfortable and taboo and gross. But here's the thing...women everywhere are suffering from similar things. A mom on Q's hockey team is going through the same, and a colleague at work, and a dear friend, and so I thought it's a shame for us all to be suffering in silence. Let's talk about it and not be shamed.
Let's talk about it.
Because it's not going away.
Fibroids, tumours, endometriosis, cysts.
They're not going away.
So tell your story. I bet there will be at least 10 women around you, suffering from the same, and wishing there was someone to talk to about it.
Women have to be there for other women. We *get* each other. Every experience should unite us in our womanhood.
I don't know if mine is cancerous. Once it's out, they'll send it to the cancer agency and they'll run tests and also go over the two biopsies I've already had. Chances are very low that it is...so I'm remaining optimistic. But I'll be sure to tell you all about what they find, because I want to know all about it. How much it weighs, what it looks like, does it have teeth (ala steven king....)?!?!?! Right??? Who wouldn't want to know??
This whole event has actually strengthened my faith in God, my faith in the knowledge that whatever happens, I'm in His hands. It's been so comforting, and I am filled with peace. In fact, for the past month, I've had this song in my head that I used to sing as a little girl in church:
I'm in His hands
I'm in His hands
Whatever the future holds
I'm in His hands
The things I cannot see
Have all been planned for me
His way is best, you see
I'm in His hands
So funny I haven't though about that song in probably 20 years and lately I've been humming it every day. I know this isn't something I was expecting and it certainly wouldn't be on my list of life plans, but it's happening and I know that how ever it turns out, I will be okay.
And....
I'll never have another period again.
Which leads me to this thought:
Maybe PMS isn't a thing, and I'm just this way...
I guess we'll find out.
On Monday morning, at about 11:15 if you're not doing anything please say a little prayer for me. Pray that God will guide the hands of the surgeon (and that she picks super cute scrubs for the operation), that He will assist my body with pain management and healing, and that everything will turn out the way He has planned.
A-men.
And the hospital better throw a rocking party, because it will be the third anniversary of my 35th birthday on Tuesday.
However, in the spring I kept getting bacterial infections - Strep throat, UTI's. My period, which was always consistent, knocking on my door every 28 days was becoming a very unexpected visitor, coming whenever it wanted and staying for longer than I would like. And being a total B**** while it was here.
So I went to the doctor. We did the whole 9 yards of testing and were relieved to find that the only thing out of whack was my blood sugars. Low enough that I was not diabetic (yet) but high enough to warrant some radical lifestyle changes in order to ensure I would not be diabetic within the next few years.
I started by cutting out sugar. This, for me, was almost as hard as quitting smoking. I love sugar. In everything. I have sweet teeth, not a sweet tooth. Once that was done, I cut out gluten, dairy and red meat. Within weeks, I had lost 8lbs and 2 inches from my stomach (probably from bloating...). I was feeling great. People were noticing a difference. Clothes were fitting looser.
Then I felt it.
I wasn't quite sure what "it" was. It was hard and it was in my abdomen. I knew I had been eating better, so the thought crossed my mind that under the layers of fat that had been shed I had rock hard abs and wouldn't have to worry about doing 100 sit ups every night and every morning. I was also hoping the same phenomena would show itself in my behind and thighs.
I was in the doc's office getting results for something else and this voice in my head kept saying, "Tell her about it. Tell her about it. Tell her about it." So I did. Prefacing it with my, "I know I'm a hypochondriac, but..."
This led to a very awkward moment whereby I had to tell my doctor 3 times I was sure I was not pregnant because I have not had sex in a very long time and I was certain that was a necessary link in the pregnancy chain. My doctor should not play poker because her poker face sucks. She went white and very serious and had me in for a CT scan within days. The next day the result:
I do not have rock hard abs.
I have a rock hard tumor.
In my uterus.
The size of a melon.
Days after that, I had appointments with specialists and biopsies were booked.
Ten days later I was sitting in the specialist's office when she told me it has grown even more and is now sitting just under my rib cage. I look...pregnant... Two minutes into our visit, we had booked a total hysterectomy for the following week. That's this coming Monday.
Monday I will join the hundreds of thousands of women who have gone before me with reproductive "issues" and total hysterectomies. Two of which are my paternal grandmother and aunt.
Monday I will no longer be able to have any more biological children.
I've been trying to figure out how I feel about that. My whole life, I thought for sure I'd have oodles of children running around with my blood running through their veins. When Q's dad and I split, I thought for sure someone else would come along to make that dream happen. And now, here we are...he (whomever *he* is) hasn't shown up yet, and now my uterus is exiting stage left (or abdomen, lower right).
Here's the thing, I think I'm totally okay with it. Like, I've forced myself to try and get really sad over it - but I just can't. Maybe I'm in shock, because from finding the mass to surgery date has been just under a month. But maybe, I'm just okay with it. I would rather choose life, than hope for something that might not ever happen. My life has taken many twists and turns that I certainly have not planned, but every twist has turned out better than I could have ever planned. The truth is, I'm relieved.
I'm relieved I found it.
I'm relieved I listened to that little voice in my head.
I'm relieved the doctors have moved on it so fast.
I'm relieved soon my organs won't be so squished and my lower back won't hurt and my tummy won't feel so bloated and it won't feel like I have to pee every 5 minutes.
I'm relieved technology has come so far that this is considered a *low-risk* operation and that my gynecologist is totally hip and wears Fluvogs. I feel like I can trust some one's judgement in the operating room if I can approve of their fashion choices.
And then let's talk about the blessings:
No more periods. NO more cramps. 4-6 weeks of spa (I mean, recovery...) time. And like 10lbs instant weight loss.
Also, I have been reminded over and over again just how am blessed that I have so many wonderful friends and family around me who have listened while I've processed things out loud, who have been praying for me, and who have been gifting me with awesome things to do with the next six weeks of free time that I have on my hands (adult colouring books and the newly released Humans of New York book). Any my mother, who has dropped everything to nurse me back to health. What would I do without my momma?
I wasn't going to blog about this, because it's my uterus. And that's kind of private and uncomfortable and taboo and gross. But here's the thing...women everywhere are suffering from similar things. A mom on Q's hockey team is going through the same, and a colleague at work, and a dear friend, and so I thought it's a shame for us all to be suffering in silence. Let's talk about it and not be shamed.
Let's talk about it.
Because it's not going away.
Fibroids, tumours, endometriosis, cysts.
They're not going away.
So tell your story. I bet there will be at least 10 women around you, suffering from the same, and wishing there was someone to talk to about it.
Women have to be there for other women. We *get* each other. Every experience should unite us in our womanhood.
I don't know if mine is cancerous. Once it's out, they'll send it to the cancer agency and they'll run tests and also go over the two biopsies I've already had. Chances are very low that it is...so I'm remaining optimistic. But I'll be sure to tell you all about what they find, because I want to know all about it. How much it weighs, what it looks like, does it have teeth (ala steven king....)?!?!?! Right??? Who wouldn't want to know??
This whole event has actually strengthened my faith in God, my faith in the knowledge that whatever happens, I'm in His hands. It's been so comforting, and I am filled with peace. In fact, for the past month, I've had this song in my head that I used to sing as a little girl in church:
I'm in His hands
I'm in His hands
Whatever the future holds
I'm in His hands
The things I cannot see
Have all been planned for me
His way is best, you see
I'm in His hands
So funny I haven't though about that song in probably 20 years and lately I've been humming it every day. I know this isn't something I was expecting and it certainly wouldn't be on my list of life plans, but it's happening and I know that how ever it turns out, I will be okay.
And....
I'll never have another period again.
Which leads me to this thought:
Maybe PMS isn't a thing, and I'm just this way...
I guess we'll find out.
On Monday morning, at about 11:15 if you're not doing anything please say a little prayer for me. Pray that God will guide the hands of the surgeon (and that she picks super cute scrubs for the operation), that He will assist my body with pain management and healing, and that everything will turn out the way He has planned.
A-men.
And the hospital better throw a rocking party, because it will be the third anniversary of my 35th birthday on Tuesday.
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