Thursday, February 28, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
Hither and Yon
Sometimes it is overwhelming, the sheer volume of doctor's appointments I need schedule to monitor and stay on top of the assortment of medical shit with which I must endure.
I was supposed to see my bariatric surgeon on 3/5 for my two year post-op check up. And the reality is, it's a pain in the ass to get there, and I'm not getting any benefit from going there (beyond taking a day off from work to accommodate that appointment). Also, the NP hasn't gotten back to me about faxing or emailing an Rx for the necessary blood work to monitor my vitamin levels. The tedium is getting to me, so I called today and moved my appointment to sometime in June, so it'll be closer to 2.5 years post-op.
Bad enough on 3/20 I have the trifecta of suck waiting for me: 11 a.m. renal guy; then at 1 p.m. I need to hoof it three avenues and about 6 streets/blocks to the ReproEndo guy; and 4:45 I need to hoof it 6 streets/blocks and three avenues back to the gyno. If I were a true glutton for punishment, I'd figure out how to shoe-horn the bariatric guy that same day. But that'd be too much, even for me. I was also trying to figure out if I could make a quick trip down to Essex Street Market for some chorizo between the endo and the gyno, but sadly that would be too much, too. So whatever I plan on doing to distract myself between appointments, it needs to be on the UES.
Here I am, living the good life:)
I was supposed to see my bariatric surgeon on 3/5 for my two year post-op check up. And the reality is, it's a pain in the ass to get there, and I'm not getting any benefit from going there (beyond taking a day off from work to accommodate that appointment). Also, the NP hasn't gotten back to me about faxing or emailing an Rx for the necessary blood work to monitor my vitamin levels. The tedium is getting to me, so I called today and moved my appointment to sometime in June, so it'll be closer to 2.5 years post-op.
Bad enough on 3/20 I have the trifecta of suck waiting for me: 11 a.m. renal guy; then at 1 p.m. I need to hoof it three avenues and about 6 streets/blocks to the ReproEndo guy; and 4:45 I need to hoof it 6 streets/blocks and three avenues back to the gyno. If I were a true glutton for punishment, I'd figure out how to shoe-horn the bariatric guy that same day. But that'd be too much, even for me. I was also trying to figure out if I could make a quick trip down to Essex Street Market for some chorizo between the endo and the gyno, but sadly that would be too much, too. So whatever I plan on doing to distract myself between appointments, it needs to be on the UES.
Here I am, living the good life:)
Friday, February 15, 2013
Semantics
Re: My previous blog post... it really resonates with me.
The profoundness is not lost on me. It's not taken lightly, hell, I think I've detailed FOR YEARS about the "what if" I never have a kid theme. Part of me is still hesitant to get the ablation (which, I then would feel I'd need to get the tubal ligation, just to be responsible, and ensure I don't get pregnant, saving myself some potential grief down the road, i.e. an even higher risk pregnancy, or death). I feel like it's a matter of mental semantics as it were.
The ablation and tubal doesn't change the total sum of my childless reality, it merely changes the mathematical equation which brings me to the same sum. Much like 2+2=4, so too can 3+1=4. The variables are different, but the sum remains the same. And the sum is like what I said the other day, I spent my life thinking motherhood would find me, and well, motherhood ain't looking for me.
I mentioned this to ReproEndoGuy, and he said that he couldn't make the decision for me, but "... there's always IVF." I reminded him that at 44, I like living in a world of certitudes. And IVF, given my age, and PCOS, and Factor Five Leiden Mutation, and my adenomyosis? Well, there's not enough certainty that either 1. Pregnancy would happen; or 2. The child or I would survive the pregnancy; or 3. That the child would come out without birth defects. I don't see the sense of making valiant efforts when the deck is so very obviously stacked up against me.
I can tell that ReproEndoGuy is a bit sad that this "rainy day project" we both have been working on together for nearly ten years isn't going to happen. And since it's not going to happen, I might as well work towards dealing with the pain management of the adenomyosis, because this is a quality of life issue for me, not merely an annoyance. It's debilitating.
Fortunately, I don't feel a sense of peer pressure (well, save for my well-intentioned, loving mother-in-law, who is desperate to be a grandmother, desperate to have some joy in her life) to be a mother. I never self-identified myself as a wife or a mother. And even though I am obviously a woman, there are times where I truly feel like my existence is neutral gender-wise. I don't feel totally asexual or nonsexual, but it does make me wonder "what is femininity?" I'm not overly butch, I'm not overly girly. I'm not overly bitchy, and I'm not overly passive either.
Fortunately, I also do not feel a sense of being broken or defective as a woman. I never felt like my gender was my destiny, though I always took it for granted I'd eventually be a mother at some point. I don't feel like my life is over now that motherhood is off the table. I am still a mother, even if I don't have a child to raise, if that makes any sense. I can mother myself, or when my husband lets me, I can mother him. I can mother my friends who need it. Yet selfishly, the one person who needs to be mothered, my own mother, well, that's too big of an issue, and a futile one to be succinct, as you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. So scratch that. But it IS a profound thought. She needs a mother, and I need TO mother, and well, here we are, 120 miles separating us, and even more, untraversable emotional mileage/geography between us.
Part of my mind drifts to past forks in the road, decisions made in haste, or Hobson's Choice type decisions, or even decisions made FOR me due to the interference of my mother, and there is the flicker of anger and regret, but overall I'll say in my own defense, that I've always tried to make the very best decisions given the circumstances, resources and information I have had on hand at any given point in my life. Still sucks though. This isn't what I ever anticipated for myself. And my life WOULD have been radically different (and incredibly boring) had I not made the choices I have made.
The profoundness is not lost on me. It's not taken lightly, hell, I think I've detailed FOR YEARS about the "what if" I never have a kid theme. Part of me is still hesitant to get the ablation (which, I then would feel I'd need to get the tubal ligation, just to be responsible, and ensure I don't get pregnant, saving myself some potential grief down the road, i.e. an even higher risk pregnancy, or death). I feel like it's a matter of mental semantics as it were.
The ablation and tubal doesn't change the total sum of my childless reality, it merely changes the mathematical equation which brings me to the same sum. Much like 2+2=4, so too can 3+1=4. The variables are different, but the sum remains the same. And the sum is like what I said the other day, I spent my life thinking motherhood would find me, and well, motherhood ain't looking for me.
I mentioned this to ReproEndoGuy, and he said that he couldn't make the decision for me, but "... there's always IVF." I reminded him that at 44, I like living in a world of certitudes. And IVF, given my age, and PCOS, and Factor Five Leiden Mutation, and my adenomyosis? Well, there's not enough certainty that either 1. Pregnancy would happen; or 2. The child or I would survive the pregnancy; or 3. That the child would come out without birth defects. I don't see the sense of making valiant efforts when the deck is so very obviously stacked up against me.
I can tell that ReproEndoGuy is a bit sad that this "rainy day project" we both have been working on together for nearly ten years isn't going to happen. And since it's not going to happen, I might as well work towards dealing with the pain management of the adenomyosis, because this is a quality of life issue for me, not merely an annoyance. It's debilitating.
Fortunately, I don't feel a sense of peer pressure (well, save for my well-intentioned, loving mother-in-law, who is desperate to be a grandmother, desperate to have some joy in her life) to be a mother. I never self-identified myself as a wife or a mother. And even though I am obviously a woman, there are times where I truly feel like my existence is neutral gender-wise. I don't feel totally asexual or nonsexual, but it does make me wonder "what is femininity?" I'm not overly butch, I'm not overly girly. I'm not overly bitchy, and I'm not overly passive either.
Fortunately, I also do not feel a sense of being broken or defective as a woman. I never felt like my gender was my destiny, though I always took it for granted I'd eventually be a mother at some point. I don't feel like my life is over now that motherhood is off the table. I am still a mother, even if I don't have a child to raise, if that makes any sense. I can mother myself, or when my husband lets me, I can mother him. I can mother my friends who need it. Yet selfishly, the one person who needs to be mothered, my own mother, well, that's too big of an issue, and a futile one to be succinct, as you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. So scratch that. But it IS a profound thought. She needs a mother, and I need TO mother, and well, here we are, 120 miles separating us, and even more, untraversable emotional mileage/geography between us.
Part of my mind drifts to past forks in the road, decisions made in haste, or Hobson's Choice type decisions, or even decisions made FOR me due to the interference of my mother, and there is the flicker of anger and regret, but overall I'll say in my own defense, that I've always tried to make the very best decisions given the circumstances, resources and information I have had on hand at any given point in my life. Still sucks though. This isn't what I ever anticipated for myself. And my life WOULD have been radically different (and incredibly boring) had I not made the choices I have made.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Dear Uterus
Dear Uterus,
You are now on WARNING. I am about to throw up the white flag of defeat. No, I'm not evicting you in entirety; however, be forewarned, our endometrium? Yeah that fucking piece of shit? Yeah, it's going to get straifed with a flame thrower. For realz.
I've lived 44 years of my life naively thinking that eventually motherhood would find me; I'm only realizing now that motherhood was never looking for me in the first place.
The time for valiant and diligent effort has passed. No tears are being shed. I've intellectualized myself OUT of thinking it'll ever happen. We're not trying. Too many risks, too many really to itemize herein.
So that all being said, since it's not going to happen, there's no need for me to worry about the permanence of permanently destroying my endometrium as a way to stave off the excessive pain (and not to mention the mess of what is essentially hemorraghing).
Yes, uterus. You're going to be burned. And while I'm at it, you might as well let your friends The Fallopian Twins, that they're on notice too. I"m going to get those fuckers tied up in square knots hopefully at the same time I burn the shit out of the endometrium.
Yes, it's come down to either it's you or me, and I don't know about you, uterus, but I've got a lot of shit to do, and even if I didn't, I don't want to live in excessive pain for the next ten years until I stop menstruating.
Fuckyouverymuch,
Signed,
Maven
You are now on WARNING. I am about to throw up the white flag of defeat. No, I'm not evicting you in entirety; however, be forewarned, our endometrium? Yeah that fucking piece of shit? Yeah, it's going to get straifed with a flame thrower. For realz.
I've lived 44 years of my life naively thinking that eventually motherhood would find me; I'm only realizing now that motherhood was never looking for me in the first place.
The time for valiant and diligent effort has passed. No tears are being shed. I've intellectualized myself OUT of thinking it'll ever happen. We're not trying. Too many risks, too many really to itemize herein.
So that all being said, since it's not going to happen, there's no need for me to worry about the permanence of permanently destroying my endometrium as a way to stave off the excessive pain (and not to mention the mess of what is essentially hemorraghing).
Yes, uterus. You're going to be burned. And while I'm at it, you might as well let your friends The Fallopian Twins, that they're on notice too. I"m going to get those fuckers tied up in square knots hopefully at the same time I burn the shit out of the endometrium.
Yes, it's come down to either it's you or me, and I don't know about you, uterus, but I've got a lot of shit to do, and even if I didn't, I don't want to live in excessive pain for the next ten years until I stop menstruating.
Fuckyouverymuch,
Signed,
Maven
Wednesday, February 06, 2013
Not Much to Report
Not much to report. Haven't lost or gained. No complaints. Well, no complaints save for two:
1. While BCBS paid for my surgery, which I estimate cost close to what? $80K? They do not cover the post-operative follow up visits w/my surgeon, despite the fact he's in-network. ($100 a visit); and
2. I'm beginning to get weary of dealing with the Quest lab near me. I hate blood work, which I need to get done every 3 months for my endo, which I usually piggy back with blood work for my surgeon (which I've been doing for 2 years thus far) and suddenly Quest's idiots cannot seem to realize that despite the fact I have two Rxs from two different docs, who request SOME of the same stuff (i.e. cbc, lipids, etc), the doofuses at Quest cannot seem to process that. I recently got a bill for nearly $500 as I was being billed TWICE for the labs for ONE trip to the lab. Apparently there's an issue because neither doc CC's the other and the lab for whatever reason, cannot do that. The wait. The inconvenience of dealing with new technicians drawing my blood, etc. And of course, now, the NP at my surgeon's office (who, granted, is going thru some family stuff w/her mom) has been slipping w/following up about getting me the necessary Rx for my bloodwork. I've been sick with this year's creeping crud and haven't been to the lab yet for my draw, and all things considered, I've had to jockey the appointment to next month and hoping for the best. But really, this follow up isn't really doing much for me personally. Plus? It's a huge pain in the ass to get to the surgeon's office, as there's no direct route via mass transit to get there, and parking is EXHORBITANT. I refuse to pay $30+ in an all day lot for an appointment that lasts less than an hour.
I'm still "compliant" with my eating (no eating and drinking at the same time, eating several times a day, top heavy with protein, no carbonated drinks--tho for new year's I did have some fizzy champagne drinks). Not compliant w/exercise. Too tired and listless and uninspired to get more active. But I walk and take stairs, so I'm not a total slug.
Feeling kind of depressed the last two weeks, perhaps it's the drain the creeping crud has had on me. Perhaps it's SAD. I don't know. I'm compliant with all my vitamins.
Given I see my endocrinologist every three months RELIGIOUSLY, I don't see much benefit (other than monitoring my compliance) in going to the surgeon's office for follow ups. It's not like it's a "support" or I feel like I get any benefit other than "Oh hey, you're doing good. You haven't regained." I don't belong to official support groups (too much whining or too much "know it all" from assholes). Just do my own thing w/the information given.
December saw the passing of my grandfather (not especially emotionally invested in him as a person, so it's not like I'm depressed from that--though death IS a downer). December also saw us thru yet another drive-by-drama-ing involving mom and her shitty health and her inability to take care of herself, and expecting us to somehow DO for her what she refuses to do for herself. January saw the sudden passing of a dear friend from years ago. And meanwhile, halfway around the world, my mother-in-law is tending to her mother, who in all likelihood will pass away before spring thaw.
All this on the heels of a trip to South and Central America, which wasn't ideal given my husband had taken ill on the ship. So it's not like there's been a moment since mid-November where homeostasis has been experienced. Burdensome and tedious. But I suppose that's what life is. I just feel so unsettled with this feeling of dread or anxiety or pensiveness. I've even been having little flutter like palpitations (perhaps anxiety related?), nothing serious, and I breathe myself thru them. But still, it's there. Whatever it is. Lurking beneath the surface. So I focus on Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, and I'm doing damned good according to that, so there's THAT going for me, right?
Tonight is knit night, I hope, so there's at least joy in the comraderie I have with the two ladies I meet with regularly. Tomorrow is a chiropractic appointment. Friday is my 8:45 a.m. therapy session. So I guess I better give myself a sublingual blast of B12 and focus on something interesting today.
1. While BCBS paid for my surgery, which I estimate cost close to what? $80K? They do not cover the post-operative follow up visits w/my surgeon, despite the fact he's in-network. ($100 a visit); and
2. I'm beginning to get weary of dealing with the Quest lab near me. I hate blood work, which I need to get done every 3 months for my endo, which I usually piggy back with blood work for my surgeon (which I've been doing for 2 years thus far) and suddenly Quest's idiots cannot seem to realize that despite the fact I have two Rxs from two different docs, who request SOME of the same stuff (i.e. cbc, lipids, etc), the doofuses at Quest cannot seem to process that. I recently got a bill for nearly $500 as I was being billed TWICE for the labs for ONE trip to the lab. Apparently there's an issue because neither doc CC's the other and the lab for whatever reason, cannot do that. The wait. The inconvenience of dealing with new technicians drawing my blood, etc. And of course, now, the NP at my surgeon's office (who, granted, is going thru some family stuff w/her mom) has been slipping w/following up about getting me the necessary Rx for my bloodwork. I've been sick with this year's creeping crud and haven't been to the lab yet for my draw, and all things considered, I've had to jockey the appointment to next month and hoping for the best. But really, this follow up isn't really doing much for me personally. Plus? It's a huge pain in the ass to get to the surgeon's office, as there's no direct route via mass transit to get there, and parking is EXHORBITANT. I refuse to pay $30+ in an all day lot for an appointment that lasts less than an hour.
I'm still "compliant" with my eating (no eating and drinking at the same time, eating several times a day, top heavy with protein, no carbonated drinks--tho for new year's I did have some fizzy champagne drinks). Not compliant w/exercise. Too tired and listless and uninspired to get more active. But I walk and take stairs, so I'm not a total slug.
Feeling kind of depressed the last two weeks, perhaps it's the drain the creeping crud has had on me. Perhaps it's SAD. I don't know. I'm compliant with all my vitamins.
Given I see my endocrinologist every three months RELIGIOUSLY, I don't see much benefit (other than monitoring my compliance) in going to the surgeon's office for follow ups. It's not like it's a "support" or I feel like I get any benefit other than "Oh hey, you're doing good. You haven't regained." I don't belong to official support groups (too much whining or too much "know it all" from assholes). Just do my own thing w/the information given.
December saw the passing of my grandfather (not especially emotionally invested in him as a person, so it's not like I'm depressed from that--though death IS a downer). December also saw us thru yet another drive-by-drama-ing involving mom and her shitty health and her inability to take care of herself, and expecting us to somehow DO for her what she refuses to do for herself. January saw the sudden passing of a dear friend from years ago. And meanwhile, halfway around the world, my mother-in-law is tending to her mother, who in all likelihood will pass away before spring thaw.
All this on the heels of a trip to South and Central America, which wasn't ideal given my husband had taken ill on the ship. So it's not like there's been a moment since mid-November where homeostasis has been experienced. Burdensome and tedious. But I suppose that's what life is. I just feel so unsettled with this feeling of dread or anxiety or pensiveness. I've even been having little flutter like palpitations (perhaps anxiety related?), nothing serious, and I breathe myself thru them. But still, it's there. Whatever it is. Lurking beneath the surface. So I focus on Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, and I'm doing damned good according to that, so there's THAT going for me, right?
Tonight is knit night, I hope, so there's at least joy in the comraderie I have with the two ladies I meet with regularly. Tomorrow is a chiropractic appointment. Friday is my 8:45 a.m. therapy session. So I guess I better give myself a sublingual blast of B12 and focus on something interesting today.
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