To preface everything I'm about to share, we found out six days ago that my husband needs to find another job. He has a grace period, but the writing isn't on the wall, he got the news direct from his boss' mouth.
Nothing quite like a new crisis to take your mind off a not-so-new crisis, eh?
My biopsy was at Columbia, which has an interventional radiology department nearby, so at least I didn't have to stress about going into NYC for this.
Everyone was pleasant, professional, helpful, and even compassionate, with one exception. Although, in hindsight, I have very critical thoughts about the RN. He had pretty much two jobs: get an IV in my arm so I can be sedated, and monitor my blood pressure.
Not only did he fail to get the IV in my arm, thereby damning me to endure a very painful liver biopsy without sedation; he also let it slip in conversation that he has not been vaccinated against COVID. The more I think of this in hindsight, the angrier this makes me as despite being fully vaccinated myself, I had to endure a painful COVID swab before the biopsy. I am a huge proponent of informed consent, and I should have been informed in advance if anyone involved in my biopsy was vaccinated or not.
I woke up with an allergy attack and considered taking a benedryl, but didn't because I had to be NPO since midnight. I should have taken the Benedryl. It might have helped calm my nerves a little bit. I was already terrified of the procedure--and even more terrified of whatever the results would be, as a liver biopsy isn't like an FNA, it's more involved than an FNA, and has a lot of risks too.
The xray tech had nothing to do as the doc was using an ultrasound to guide the biopsy needle, and he certainly distracted me the entire time with talk about food in the area.
I anticipated that I'd feel nothing more than pressure; however, I *did* feel the painful jab each of the three times the needle punched down into my liver to grab a sample. It was far more painful than I anticipated.
By the time the radiologist said he was done, I laid there on the table having a panic attack in the form of silently weeping into my mask. My glasses fogged up. I was in pain, and anxiety, and worry for my husband, and it all became so much for me. Perhaps some relief that it was over was mixed in there, but that little micron of relief was washed out by the fear and worry.
As my glasses fogged up, the nurse noticed, and he took my glasses off, as the xray tech dabbed away my tears.
There are little side stories, sweet stories, I could share about everyone involved--even the receptionist at the front desk came back to me when I was in recovery to see how I made out. Everyone at this facility truly exude caring. They all knew how anxious I was. And as unpleasant as the procedure was, they all did their level best (well maybe NOT the nurse--he should have been able to get an IV in my arm!), to make the process as pleasant as possible.
Results could come in about 3-5 days. Three days brings us to Friday--and that might be over optimistic to expect. Five days is Sunday. And Monday I go to the gastroenterologist for an upper endoscopy--and yet another IV sedation. Given I had a colonoscopy by this doctor 3 years ago and did not have an issue with either an IV or sedation, I am hoping for the same result--I don't know how much more jabbing my arms can withstand at this point.
So what will the results be? NAFLD? NASH? AIH? Honestly, I don't know what to hope for. I did have hopes that the liver fibrosity test was a false negative, or perhaps I have scar tissue from my gall bladder removal. I honestly don't know what to expect.
And just like she did 10 years ago when I went through my bypass, my sister proved to me that she just doesn't have enough give-a-fuck to offer anything in the way of substantive emotional support while I go through all this. She made some comment two weeks ago via text how she thinks I am driving myself crazy with this. Needless to say, I never let her know about having to go in for a liver biopsy. And I sure-as-shit am not telling her about the precariousness of the husband's job situation at the moment.
I am emotional "just enough" at the moment to allow myself to believe all this shit has manifested because of jealousy--the evil eye. Mom was jealous of me most of my life, her sister was jealous of me too. Same thing goes for my sister, as well as my now-former friend, JabippyLoo. Truly, it takes a village to cast an evil eye on me and the husband.
I am used to shitty things happening to me; however, it's another thing entirely to see the husband get the wind knocked out of his sails. I remember all too well what it was like going through perhaps the worst time in my life 23 years ago--and do it relatively alone. Sure, my parents were alive then, but offered little in the way of help, other than mom basically selling me into indentured servitude to convince her cousin to let me live in her house FOR RENT by the way.
I am providing the husband as best of advice as I can, to help him navigate himself away from this. To see his confidence take such a brutal hit, it's been difficult for me to watch. Helping him navigate things also takes my mind off my own situation, albeit temporarily.
Anyway. Yeah. It's been a rough couple of days. And tomorrow I am going to be subjected to the always-ego-crushing annual evaluation at work.
To be direct, I just don't know how much longer I can keep "doing this," with "this" being work, or deal with the never-ending-stream of doctors.
Whatever the results from the biopsy, one thing is very clear: the next doctor I see will be a liver specialist.
I just don't have it in me.
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