At Long Last: An Update

Yesterday found me in NYC doing a double header: Upper East Side to see my endocrinologist for my three month visit; and Upper West Side to see my surgeon for my 18 month follow up post-op visit. Both went well.

Stats from July's labs:

Fasting glucose:     81
Uric Acid:             5.7
HDL:                    58
LDL:                     93
Triglycerides:         92
Iron, total:             60
Ferritin:                 10
T4, total:               8.6
Progesterone:        6.1
B12:                     669
Folate, serum:     >24.0
Folate, RBC, HCT: 715
Insulin, serum:      <2 p="p">C-Reactive Protein: 0.1
Hemoglobin A1C:  5.5
Testosteron, Fr/TOT, LCMSMS:  38
Testosterone, Free:  3.2

All in all, not too shabby; though in hindsight, I am noticing my DHEA levels were not checked.

I wasn't feeling all too well, some weirdness in my gut, lower abdomen. A heaviness on my left side, which usually means constipation, despite obvious reasons for me to believe constipation was not afoot. *AHEM* And pain. The pain was intermittent in the earlier part of the day, but as the day wore on, the heaviness got more intense, and each time I moved my left leg when I walked, the pain became more pronounced.

I drank some hot egg drop soup, thinking that would help hydrate and usually anything hot helps wake up my bowels, so if it was constipation, I was hoping it would dislodge itself. I clearly felt like I was blocked, despite knowing there was activity that day.

I then set about the little odyssey of getting from the UES to the UWS. I decided not to take the 6 back up to 125th, and instead walked to Madison and hoped to hop a bus uptown. But which bus? I'm not super familiar. I know on Broadway the M101 or M104 will take me where I want to go, but I wanted to get from east side to west side and up town with a minimum of effort. Had I gone back to 125th, I would have taken the M100 or M101. But, I was on Madison, so I was going to improvise with the M3.

So the bus pulls up and since there was no route map to show me the stops, I clearly asked the driver, "Will this take me to 163rd and either Amsterdam or St. Nicholas?" And rather than yes or no, he got in a huff, which then made me DERP-DE-DERP and ask the question several times, thus making the driver even more hostile. A simple yes or no was all that was required, but because he wanted to be an asshole, he prolonged both of our agonies. So with an eye roll I got on, swiped my Metrocard, sat and seethed and even thought perhaps when I got off the bus I'd thank him for being so helpful, but thought the better of it, as he gave the next passengers at the next stop the same shitty attitude. So I sat and watched the street signs.

I got off at St. Nicholas and 163, and hoofed it to Ft. Washington. As I crossed Broadway, the pain in my lower abdomen was becoming more and more intense. When I pressed on my belly as I walked, I could feel a hardness, like a lump, and it hurt as I walked. I arrived at the surgeon's office with plenty of time (10-15 minutes), so I figured I'd try to give it the "old college try" and try to empty out even more before my weigh in. This was a disaster. I ended up being held hostage, but not like I've been held hostage in the past with an impaction. Just nothing moved. Searing pain. Flush with sweat and pain, I started to panic in the bathroom. I lost track of time. I was now late for my appointment.

I walked to the corridor to get my vitals taken by the technician, who noticed and commented on my limp and the fact I was in obvious pain. I go into the NP's office for our usual pre-game chat before the surgeon comes in. And once he came in, the weirdness set in. I started to feel manic and over stimulated from both, the increasing pain and the fact that I've now spent the entire day traversing both, east and west sides of NYC on foot and by mass transit. I was unfocused (which for me is VERY unusual, why waste my time or THEIRS is my usual attitude). At one point, while the surgeon was talking to me, I blurted out, "I'm in active pain right now, just thought I'd share!" I felt like a wild woman.

Surgeon told me the bad news, that at 18 months out, my weight loss, such as it's been, is effectively over, and now is the hard part, the maintaining. I informed him that ever since he put me on solids, I've been eating essentially whatever I want, weighing stuff out, eating frequently during the day, not depriving myself, and planning my "feeds" as I call them (not really meals or snacks, just indistinguishable "intakes") several times a day, as I do better with more feeds than less.

And then he told me the dreaded thing I don't want to hear, that he wants me to exercise more than this intermittent walking I do. I said to him, "But fat girls, we don't like to sweat." His reply, "I hate to inform you, but you're not a fat girl. You need to sweat regularly. And I don't care if you like it or not. You need to do this."

Since my surgery, pain has been a big issue: joint pain from arthritis. endometrial pain from the adenomyosis. and pain from when my ovarian cysts start to flare or rupture (which I think yesterday's pain was ultimately ovarian, and not bowel).  So pain is part of my reluctance. The other part of my reluctance is well... I don't like to sweat, I don't find anything remotely fun, interesting, exciting etc about exercising for exercise sake. And if it's not fun or pleasurable, how the hell am I suppose to make it an essential part of my new life style if I find it so repellent?

Don't get me wrong. I can move. And I was in NYC on Friday and traversed the LES and LWS like a BOSS, and had a minimum of discomfort compared to how I normally felt in the past after spending the day in the city. And there I was, back in NYC on Tuesday, spent the whole day, and managed not to kill myself in the process, pain-wise.

Even swimming, which used to be a big thing I loved when I was heavier, now isn't as fun anymore, because I have to work so damned hard now just to stay afloat without all that extra buoyancy my fat used to provide.

Anyway, still in my frenzy after my appointment with the surgeon, I headed to the nearest pharmacy to get more colace (despite taking some in the a.m.) and some miralax, I then headed off to Dunkin Donuts for a hot cup of coffee, as I was hell bent on blasting whatever clog happened to be in my drain (as it were). So I sat and had my coffee. Mixed up the miralax in my Snapple in my bottle, sat a bit and crocheted, relaxed a little bit, and headed off in search of a subway station.

The day was beautiful. Sunny and warm not too hot, and no humidity. Great day. And I got weird-bordering on-lascivious looks as I walked thru Spanish Harlem, but I wore my Jackie O type sunglasses and kept my stoneface mask on and kept walking, hands in pockets, very relaxed, enjoying the walk. The neighborhood is foreign to me but not threatening.

I took the 1 down to 86 and walked to 89th. I stopped before I got to Murray's Sturgeon, and got a slice of pizza. I don't eat pizza all that often, and opted out of my traditional post-surgeon visit tuna sandwich at Murray's for a slice of pizza nearby. I ate it. The crust was great, the sauce and cheese, kind of "meh!" even with me doctoring up the slice with extra oregano, red pepper flake and garlic powder, it just didn't "do it" for me like I had hoped. Anyway, I headed to Murray's to stock up on smoked whitefish salad, gefilte, some herring, and a knish for the husband, then headed back to Grand Central, to sit and wait for the husband.

I went upstairs to the market, and got some things to throw together for dinner: some fresh tilapia for the grill; and some carrot salad (fabulous!) and some lebanese potato salad (WTF? horrid), and of course some cheese (for me). By the time I came back downstairs, the husband had arrived and we headed home.

All in all a good day, but I have some hard work ahead of me in the six month span until I see my surgeon again. I need to change my mindset from a fixed mindset (I won't attempt anything unless success is NLT 90% predictable) to a growth mindset.

Personally and professionally I'm very trapped. Either I find a new job and that facilitates other changes in my life, or I somehow or another get more active and THAT will facilitate other changes in my life. But some ACTIVE change needs to occur, as I'm stagnating.

Mood:  Depressed.

Post-Vacation

I will not hop on the scale.
I will not hop on the scale.
I. WILL. NOT. HOP. ON. THE. SCALE.

Enjoyed the trip to Mystic. Plenty of good eatin' had. Vacations are always fraught with trepidation, financially, and calorie-wise. I'm just going to revel in a nice Memorial Day get-away, and worry about the scale next week. But I can't help but feel like it's an act of self-sabotage (going away).

I WILL NOT HOP ON THE SCALE.

Update

Still maintaining the status quo on the weight loss. I'm weighing in regularly between 192-194, tho that one freakish weigh in a few months back at 190, pegged my official weight loss at 90#. I'd like to get down to 175, but I'm quite happy where I'm at currently, too.

So last Friday I managed to follow up w/my neurologist (the same dude I saw roughly 4-5 years back during the great Topamax experiment my endocrinologist tried. The Topamax was supposed to help with the migraines and also offer up some super magical side effects of losing weight. Well, that experiment didn't end well. Made me more hostile and paranoid, and holy hannah it messed with my sleep-wake schedule even more than my usual baseline of insomnia, so I ditched it way back then.

I've been prescribed Frova, which I'm supposed to take a day or two prior to onset of menses and throughout the bleed time. Allegedly this is supposed to thwart my monthly migraine. Who knows. All I know is that it's a sumatriptan based Rx, and I didn't fare too well on imitrex when I was on it briefly in the early 1990s (I felt all achey and odd, like you do right before the full on brunt of a common cold--but no migraine). Like anything else, I suppose YMMV. I'll try anything at this point.

And like whoah? $45 and that's WITH insurance. $400+ without. I think $45 is a bit exorbitant to PREVENT a migraine; however, $45 is still less than the ER copay, so it all balances out. But whoah. Sticker shock. ETA: Note to self: There's an online mfr program/coupon for Frova: http://www.frova.com/pdf/FROVA_Patient_CoPay_Card.pdf

I don't follow up with the neuro again until July, so that'll be two menstrual cycles from now, and a good indication of whether or not the Rx works.

Now a blood chemistry update...

Everything seems to be within normal parameters, with a few exceptions.

Exception #1: My iron levels are still low (or at least they were as of 4/2/12 when the blood was drawn. I've been on Feosol iron since roughly the 3-4th week of April, and have noticed some change in how I feel, so I am hopeful this is remedying things; however, as of 4/2/12:

Iron, total:                     33 (range: 40-175 mcg/dL)
Transferrin Saturation:     8 (range: 15-50%)
Ferritin:                           8 (range: 10-232 ng/mL)
MCV:                        76.9 (range: 80.0-100.0 fL)
MCH:                        25.7 (range 27.0-33.0 pg)

Exception #2: Weirdness. My B12 is off the chart. Perhaps it's related to the fact I've been taking a prenatal chewable in the a.m., with an additional spritz of B12 sublingual, plus a spare biotin and a spare FOLIC ACID supplement. Not sure whut's-whut, but:

Vitamin B12, serum         1316 (range 200-1100 pg/mL)

Exception #3: Weirdness. My DHEA is finally taking a nosedive. It's been on the high side since my PCOS diagnosis in 1998. High = onwards and upwards of 1200-1400, yet as of 4/2/12:

DHEA Sulfate                  448 (range 25/220 mcg/dL)  This is without a doubt the lowest the DHEA has been for me for 14 years. Not sure if it's related to the wonky B12 elevation, or if it's the result of a 90# weight loss, or what, but thereyago. WEIRD.

Exception #4:  Weirdness. My 3A Androstanediol-G is low. Not even sure WTF this is (same thing goes for the MCV and MCH above), so needless to say I have some homework to do before Monday's appointment.

3A Androstanediol-G         30 (range: 60-300 ng/dL)

And lastly, one of the last things I was interested in, ARSENIC, given I was eating a lot of chia seeds about two months back:

Arsenic, Blood                    8 (range:  <23 mcg/L)

Not sure if this is an accurate read or if it's skewed due to the volume of cilantro I eat (not all the time, but do it in waves, like this week I've been on a Green Goddess dressing phase... and eat a lot of it).

On Relating to Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer

Ever see that SNL skit w/Phil Hartman as the Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer? Well, at the conclusion of this week's knit night, one of my friends noted I was wearing jeans, and how she doesn't think she's ever seen me in jeans. I commented how they are my milestone jeans. They are a size 14 (and really a bit loose on me). Size 14 being the smallest size The Avenue carries. I quipped about how should I go down one more size, I'll have to buy my clothes from a conventional size store. "Oh, is The Limited still in business?" Truly, I lost interest in the store when Bush Senior was president, when my weight started LEAPING, NOT CREEPING, but LEAPING from one size to the next.  "I don't know what it's like to buy clothing in a store that doesn't cater to large sized folks. It's been so long. I think I'll feel like that Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer... your world is all so weird and unfamiliar to me." 

Another interesting milestone: the size "large" belt which I bought a while ago (a few months back) now finally fits. I can secure it on the first hole without it feeling like a tourniquet. Yay me.

Now if only I could FEEL better.

I am having motivational issues just to do anything, even simple, mundane shit like showering daily and getting dressed and out of the house, even for things which I know will make me feel better, and yet... the over-riding desire to nap sometimes wins out even the best argument that my conscious self can make to this other side of my personality, which I'll refer to as the hermit. The hermit just wants to do just that, be a hermit, avoid contact with other people.

I had an actual dialogue today, both sides or both personalities, were talking to one another today. Not sure if this is a mental break, or if it's just an exercise I needed to do to further motivate myself to get my rear in gear and out of the house (which I eventually DID), but the dialogue went like this:

Personality 1: You know you need that deep tissue massage. You'll feel better. Tomorrow you have a long drive and won't have a chance to do this, and it'll be another week before you can do this, another week before you feel better.

Personality 2: I don't want to feel better. I don't want to feel anything at all. I just want to die.

And of course, this was capped off with me getting weepy. Hard to feel like doing anything when you feel dizzy and feel like shit, yanno? Hard to break out of that cycle of you're in pain, and it depresses you, and then the depression makes you feel even MORE physically shitty, etc etc, to the point where you're shaky and miserable, and just want to curl up into a ball and sob.

But I got dressed and out of the house. Did something proactively to make myself feel better. Went for that massage. I felt like the masseuse was helping me on a molecular level. I know for a fact that if I were to go to my old Reiki practitioner, I'd be in tears by the end of the session. Wish I had her name and #, but lost those details several years back, and the only person who could have offered help, the woman who ran the local yoga clinic where I met the aforementioned reiki master refused to pass the information along to me (apparently they had some kind of falling out). Karma's a bitch, and the economy in the shitter the way it's been for nearly ten years, well, that yoga studio went belly up about 2-3 years back. You get what you give, I suppose.

Tomorrow I make a trip to Jersey for a class to learn the finer points of a technique I know "some" details of, and even know some advanced details of, but little simple basics I could benefit from an actual class. I've already paid for this class, so I'm hoping that's motivation enough for me to not bail out and flake out and be out $65 for the cost of the class. On an upnote, the class is held at a shop in the same town as one of my fave Thai restaurants, so I can't wait. And a friend I originally made plans with to have lunch after the class is under the weather, so she already bailed out on the lunch; so I might just sit and enjoy lunch in solitude, and pick up take out for the husband and might possibly make it home by 4 or 5 the earliest and salvage a bit of the day with him, as he should be up from his afternoon nap by then.

Been taking Feosol iron for about a week... not quite. But "about." Not sure if it's making a difference yet. Folks reading this blog can have hope enough for me, because I have none. At this point, I'm just on autopilot, taking meds, taking vitamins, doing what the doctors say I need to do, and abandoning expectation that any of it will make a difference. Because I am compliant as a post-opper, but even that's not enough, I suppose.

Appointment has been set for me to follow up with a neurologist re: the migraine. That's next Friday. Then my usual 3 month appt w/the endocrinologist is little more than a week later or so.

I cannot wait for my 44th year to start (in August), as my 43rd year has been one fraught with bullshitty health stuff. Gah.

Time to take my calcium, have some coffee, and call it a night.

Lack of Progress

Man makes plans and God says Hah, allegedly.

My next 'ologist I was going to consult was a hematologist given my anemia, adenomyosis and FVLM; however, Saturday's trip to the ER for a migraine might trump that for a little bit. I might have to follow up with a neurologist regarding the horrendous headache. I have no doubt of the genesis of the headache. Hormonal and associated with the adenomyosis.

My 43rd year has been horrendous for my health. I feel like such a whiner. Not sure if this is part of the aging process, or perimenopause (tho I have it on pretty good authority it's not this, not yet at least), or hypochondria. Surely, I can't have THIS many things wrong with me all at once.

Just as soon as it seems that I've adjusted or accepted the new status quo, something else is lumped onto the pile, kinda like the story of Job, but only with medically related annoyances etc to overcome. 

On top of all this, my weight loss has continued its stalemate. I keep hoping to find the time or energy to chase down a Feldenkrais practitioner or do something proactive to help with my joint pain, to help get me more active again, and jump start my weight loss for what I hope to be the last 15-20 lbs.

Very difficult to remain upbeat or motivated when other things are truly sapping my energy and focus.

Still doing what I'm supposed to be doing: protein, protein, protein; fluids; vitamins; packing my feed bag; nothing more than roughly 8 oz for me now; eating frequently; and trying to go easy on myself.

Given I'm in between therapists at the moment, and given that my husband is really "all I've got" for actual, tangible, in-person support system, I don't want to overburden him with TMI of what I'm going thru. So, to add insult to injury, I really feel isolated and worn out.

Zapped a note to the bariatric team to find out about the Fiorinal for my migraines (which aren't too frequent, but shit, this one was a doozy). 

ER: The morning after

Ever hear of Murphy's Law? Well, there's "Maven's Law" which is kinda like Murphy's Law, but with one tweak at the end:

If anything bad/wrong can happen, it will. At the worst possible time.

So yeah. Yesterday I woke up feeling worse for wear. As I posted on Friday it was a two vicodin day, courtesy of my epic menstrual pain due to the (there I go again!) adenomyosis.

And by worse for wear, I mean I woke up with a migraine that just would not quit. First sign of distress is the obvious: I woke up at 7:30 a.m. on a SATURDAY. This is unheard of. Woke up feeling illish. Went to the kitchen to take my blood pressure pill, and get the jump on my vitamins, which I usually start my day with my gummy prenatals, gummy fiber chew, and gummy vitamin c. Those are the first things to hit my stomach, then the blood pressure pill, washed down with a mouthful of coffee.

And then it happened. EPIC NAUSEA. I thought, "BRILLIANT!" usually, after vomiting commences, my migraines usually start to subside. Not in this case. I was the Ever Ready Bunny of Puke. Only, there's nothing to puke up. I last ate at 9:30 the night before, and other than the vitamins, nothing else came up. Being without a gall bladder also means, no bile comes up, which is a great thing, puke wise, because you don't get any of that acrid nasty stuff to deal with, but the downside is, you have nothing of substance to heave up.

And heave, I did. All day. I laid down thinking I'd try to sleep off the bulk of the unpleasantness, tossing and turning in the bed, uncomfortable. Every time I'd get up to urinate, the disturbance to my head and neck was enough to elicit more waves of heaving-loveliness.

Mind you, I'm 16 months out from my gastric bypass. I still worry about possible damage to the pouch when dealing with violent heaving like this. I also wonder and worry if the epic heaving will be enough to damage the repair to the hiatal hernia, too.

Head was pounding as if the Mario Brothers were in there, pounding away with sledge hammers. Unrelentingly.

And so this went until about 3 p.m., when I just couldn't stand life one more moment, I woke the husband from his nap and said, "It's time. I need to go to the hospital."

By the time he got washed and dressed, we arrived at the hospital (which is only a scant 3 minutes from our house), by 4 p.m., I went into a quasi-nap trying to zone out the ER lobby din. They bring me inside and for the next four hours or so, I'm in the ER, hooked up to an IV for fluids, Dilaudid and something else for pain, something for nausea, Zofran under the tongue. Mercifully I have ear plugs (but no eye patch) to blot out what I can of what's going on around me. Puke bag at the ready by my side.

I'm now thinking I should just give up the notion of even trying to conceive. I'm too old and frail and just not up to an endeavor such as that. Physically, emotionally, etc. I cannot imagine going thru this or other health set backs, with just my husband, and then have to deal with what to do with a small child or infant during something like this, when we have ZERO support system nearby.  It's not fair to me, the husband or the child.

I'm seriously contemplating going in for the ablation. Biting the bullet. Get the ablation. Maybe get my tubes tied. And call it a day. I'm certain the migraine is related to the adenomyosis, as yesterday was the second full on day of my menses.

I've reached the point... the "Come to Jesus" moment of accepting the fact that having a child of my own is not in my cards. That perhaps I wasted my prime baby making years, ten of them, with someone who threw me away 14 years ago. And there he is, with two kids, one of them named the name we picked for our hypothetical son. And here I am, battling with this nonsense. Doesn't really seem all that fair.

But it's come down to it's either me/my health/my sanity or go on a reproductive wild goose chase with no viable end in sight. 

All I know is that while I was in the ER, I was having a conversation with the Universal Power that guides us, whatever that power is... not God... but something is driving the universe, yanno? And the conversation went like this, "Look, if you're going to take me. Take me now. Just quit pussyfooting around, because death itself? It can't possibly be worse than this shit. I'm ready to go. I'm showered up. Take me, damnit."

Onset

Full on onset day = 2 Vicodin.

Started the Feosol iron supplement today. I really need to hook up with a hematologist to find out if I need to double up at this time of the month.

I'm now trying to remember if I packed Centrums or the prenatal vitamins when I went to India. Wondering if that's when and how I got derailed with the iron.

Still feel like crap. Might as well head to bed while the vicodin is still doing its thing.

How My Mind Works

When searching for iron supplements, I come across a brand name Bifera. Am I the only one whose first thought is Biafra?

In the Meantime...

I was out of the office sick yesterday. Just couldn't muster up enough energy to shower and get dressed and out the door (and also totally lacking FOCUS).

While I was out, my ReproEndoGuy emailed me with a recommendation about iron. Suggested I take Feosol 325 mg daily.

Today I'm going to scope out local hematologists, given my unique circumstances (WLS induced iron deficient anemia, adenomyosis, and the WILD CARD! Factor Five Leiden Mutation).

Shoppin' Around

I think the time has come for me to find a new therapist, or at a minimum, officially break with this therapist and find a professional organizer to help with, well, ORGANIZING. Goodness, I was going thru a few stacks of books and noticed I've got TWO copies of "The Stranger" by Albert Camus. As if not being able to wrap my brain around his philosophy or point of view wasn't bad enough, I've now got TWO copies of that very books by which to confound me.

Two copies of "The Stranger," countless hair brushes, clips, packets of wet wipes, chewing gums, you name it... who needs MULTITUDES of things? Well apparently I MUST. Nothing more frustrating, IMHO, than to KNOW you have one or SIX of something, and can't seem to put your finger on ONE of those items, and my response usually is, "Oh, fuck this. I'll buy another." Then suddenly I find every single one of those items, and then start to feel like a hoarder.

Which, I suppose, I might be on some level about some things.

Granted, I don't watch t.v. shows such as Hoarders or The Biggest Loser or anything for that matter on Bravo or TLC, because I really thing THAT particular type of t.v. programming trivializes and exploits the plights and life narratives of those folks. But I would be dishonest if I didn't own up to the fact that on the rare occasions when I'm channel surfing (normally watch a lot of ON DEMAND or Netflix to avoid this kind of situation), if I happen upon Hoarders, I'll watch a segment or two, just for perspective. It might come off as judgement, but honestly, I know I've got that tendency myself, as I'm far too sentimental of a person, and have issues with attachments. But I figure I can put off contacting a professional for another day as long as I can keep closing my closet doors, my fridge door closes with ease, and I haven't found any dead animals amongst my belongings.

Taking a look thru my blog, I realize the last session I had with my therapist was 3/14, well over a month ago. Perhaps I'm expecting too much out of my therapist. But I do think it speaks volumes about how little he's invested in me as a client/patient, if a month can go by and THAT hasn't warranted a phone call or email inquiring if everything is okay and if/when can we are going to schedule an other session.

Mind you, I've been seeing him since roughly 2009. I started seeing him one year after dad passed, and right before I set things in motion for my gastric bypass. We talked about all manner of things, life, health, my work, my grief, etc. But really I don't know how much benefit I got out of it. Half the time, I couldn't tell if I was boring him, or if it was late in the afternoon and he'd be on the brink of nodding off, or if he was lost in thought, or what. And I did not get (nor did I demand) all that much in the way of feedback. So it just seemed like a whole lot of talking just purely for the sake of talking, without an end point or a goal, and certainly no behavioral modifications (not that it was his focus or specialty mind you, which it was not).

But still... here I am, three years later, and not really a whole lot to show for things, other than, well, I got myself thru my surgery.

But I'm still affected deeply by my grief over the passing and loss of my dad, still affected by being in a dead end job with no chance of any advancement or change of scenery therein, and still dealing with my clutter issues.

Husband suspects therapist has been billing for sessions every week, when I don't see him every week. So I'll be keeping an eye open for the EOBs for a while to see if he puts in for anything beyond March 14th.

The whole thing is a bit fishy.

On Feeling Drained...

Got a call from the ReproEndo guy two days ago about my ferritin levels. Much talk was done about my anemia.

For starters, the RnY puts me in a risk factor for anemia, and the adenomyosis (there I go again, harping about this!) drains my body of iron. So it's a perfect storm, of sorts, setting me up for FerritinFAIL! :(

And mind you, this is with me being DILIGENT about taking ALL my supplements (and then some) as a post-opper. I think I've missed maybe 3 iron doses in the last 16 months. Not too shabby.

I've been on a quest of sorts to find the perfect iron formulation for me. I was taking a Centrum with iron and then switched off to a prenatal (Vitafusion, they're effing delicious) because it's got a lot of folate and biotin, and took a separate iron supplement.

Up until a week ago, I was taking Bariatric Advantage brand "iron supplement." I put that in quotes because it doesn't list what type of iron it is. (Doing the chewy chews, raspberry chocolate truffle--not bad tasting, btw.) So I've switched off to some off-brand carbonyl iron in tablet form. Two tablets put me at over 200% of the RDA for iron. Going to start taking them 2x a day (1 tablet 2x a day; NOT 2 tablets 2x a day, just to clarify).

Anyway, the anemia is just one more thing to deal with. Granted it's a fairly BIG NEGATIVE to deal with on top of everything else I'm dealing with, both as a post opper, as well as all the other stuff related to my PCOS and other health issues.

The anemia, I am certain is to blame for my fatigue, my stamina problems, some of my aches and pains or stiffness, and no doubt my dizziness, which I've been complaining about for months, and yet, no one seems all too concerned about it.

My depth perception has been a bit "off" since roughly January, but I don't know if that's related to the anemia or the fact I am now officially an old fart and had to break down and get bi-focals (actually "progressives").

So, on top of all this, and on top of the personal shitstorm I weathered in March at the hands of Crazy McLoonypants, my natural tendency at this point is to just withdraw, which then makes me miserable on another level (cabin fever).

All life is suffering. This would fit the bill. And in the grand scheme of things, I'll take this suffering over alternative sufferings. I'm fairly miserable at the moment.

Nearly every day I cry. Yesterday it was in my car, during downtime waiting to pick up the husband at the train. I felt so miserable, and the only person who could console me, my dad, isn't here anymore to do that. Today it was in my kitchen, dizzy spell full in force. Husband came in the room for me to fling my arms around and just sob. He doesn't hug or console. But he's there. He doesn't have a clue what to do to make things better, and I know from a guy's perspective, that is the supreme head fuck, because guys don't want to listen to complaining or crying, they're FIXERS. They want to fix what's broke. And we're both at a loss at this point regarding HOW to fix this thing.

I feel like utter crap. So much so, when I woke up this morning, I was truly surprised. Yes. Surprised. Because when I went to bed last night, I felt so horrid, I was 50% certain I'd die in my sleep, and 50% HOPING I'd die in my sleep.

No one likes a whiner. But there ya go. At a minimum, it's real life. It's authentic. And yet sadly, I cannot find something ironic or wry to laugh about today.

Well, besides that guy Randy w/those Honeybadger videos. That's pretty much what got me thru today. Reading his book, and watching his videos.

Gotta Get Off My Duff

Feeling terribly drained (still), and have had a full-ish weekend, which isn't doing much to undo the drainage.

Friday night went to a silent auction I go to every year for the last 14. In fact, the very first one I attended, I came home and that's when my first marriage went belly up and imploded. So for me, it's the anniversary of the decimation and devastation I went thru... AND SURVIVED, as well as a nice evening out, even if I don't see my aunt (who invites me every year) much as she volunteers her time for the event.

The event is about 45 minutes (to an hour) away from my home, and that's small potatoes regarding me and driving, but given the high speed near-collision of a few weeks ago, I had a lot of trepidation making that trip to Jersey. Going there was no problem, but at 11 p.m. when the event finally ended, making that trip home, alone, in the dark, unnerved me. At one point I was trembling. Not sure if it was over caffeination, nerves or if I caught a momentary chill. Luckily I got home in one piece.

I'm now wondering if driving with bifocals/progressives is the smartest thing to do. I need to check with my uncle (who's an optician) about this. I am convinced it messes with my depth perception.

Anyway, yesterday we did nothing but hang out and nap. And today I have plans to meet a friend for brunch, of which I'm regretting making those plans because I just can't convince myself to get dressed. But I need to. But part of me is reluctant because I know the moment I leave the house for brunch, my day will be shot. Hang out w/friend until about 3 or 4, then come home, pick up husband for dinner and a movie, and before you know it, evening will be here, and Monday, dreaded Monday will be right around the corner.

Time to wash my ass and get dressed. I need to get out of the house. It's like I'm in a battle of wills... WITH MYSELF. WTF.

On Inventing My Own Fun

So yeah, my former boss, you remember HIM, don't you? The guy who left here under the darkness of night, emptying out his office, without so much as an email to support staff to: 1. Thank us for seven years of service; and 2. Let us know how to handle in-coming calls and mail. Yeah... HIM.

Come Memorial Day weekend, he'll be gone an entire year. Where did the time go? I don't wish him ill, I don't wish him well, I'm just glad to no longer be working with him any longer, for an assortment of reasons.

Last time I laid eyes on him was sometime in the summer at his mom's wake; and last time I heard from him was in November, the day of his official farewell party (granted 7 months after his departure from this office). YES, the party I was excluded from attending. Not that I would have gone, as it was in the Bronx on a week night, so naturally I would have declined. But I still say I should have been invited. But my lack of invitation truly spoke volumes to me about my standing in his eyes as well as the eyes of his nearest-and-dearest who handled the party arrangements.

So be that as it may, one of the guys in my agency, who works at the same location where former-bossman, aka TommyBoy, works now, approached me just now, telling me how TommyBoy had inquired about how I was doing, as if this particular guy sees me all the time? He sees me once in a very blue moon, at best. Furthermore, this guy lets me know that TommyBoy let him know I had some procedure done regarding weight loss. Not that it's TommyBoy's business to be sharing personal deets of mine like that. But therein lies the presumptuousness that TommyBoy has always had.

So I tell this guy to tell TommyBoy, "Oh yeah, she must have gained it all back. Are you sure she had some surgery? She looks the same to me as she always has." Because, let's be honest, if TommyBoy gave a shit about me or gave a shit about discretion, he'd either pick up the phone and call or zap me an email to find out for himself. So he devises this structure, this whatever-it-is to simulate communication with me, or appear as if he's even remotely interested in me as a human, not to mention interested in me as a former underling-and-confidante, when it's all just utter bullshit.

I wonder how he'd feel if I told folks about his bloody piss dribblin's in the handicapped bathroom, and how I was able to deduce some sort of bladder or prostate issue long before he shared those details with me personally.

Or perhaps this is TommyBoy's way of goading an interaction with me, by subconsciously goading me to email him to find out how he's doing. Goad away, piss boy. I'm not takin' the bait.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a hellacious pimple in my eyebrow that needs to be coaxed the fuck out of my skin.

On Being Gaslighted (or Gaslit?)

Reading up on the topic today. http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2011/11/16/more-on-gaslighting/

And holy shit, it's a pattern that repeats itself, ironically, REPEATEDLY, in my life.

The whole formula of it is just so patently obvious, which seems to be three-pronged: shock (of the abuse), more abuse when you defend yourself, ending with depression.

Glad to know this type of abuse actually has a name and is a known entity. Sick, but glad to know.

I've seen this pattern with my mother and my sister, and most-recently someone with whom I was cultivating a friendship with. Granted, I cannot really cut off my mother and my sister as they're family, but I cut off toxic non-family eventually, and when I do, it's usually with spectacularly bitter results. The need to control me or try to control and/or rewrite our common narrative seems to be the main theme I've encountered.

I have no visions of grandeur or an over inflated sense of who or what I am. I know Im not perfect, but by and large, I certainly don't deserve to be treated with cruelty.

Not sure of the purpose of today's blog post, but I just feel my sense of perspective is just so undermined by this abuse. Hell, even in a FB thread I started which was a poll about my sister :

Poll: If my sis doesn't keep in touch w/ me, does she have the right to bitch when I don't go out of my way to keep in touch w/ her?

And one of my replies in the thread just summed up how perverse the abuse is:

The thing I find so twisted about the gaslighting abuse is... the cycle of self-doubt and depression that takes place, because SURELY there can't be THAT MANY folks gaslighting me... could there? See? I just did it again! Drat!

In the end, if I cannot have my sister as I knew her, as an ally back, then I'd just assume be on the receiving end of "being ignored."

Just an FYI, I'm going to take a nap. Mom called to wish me a happy Easter. Brother texted me. I don't feel like dwelling on the fact that I'll only get a Happy Easter out of my sister if I call (as if the phone only works if I pick it up and dial).

Going for a nap. It's either nap now, or continue to consciously force myself NOT to roast up a pork loin I won't be eating for the next 2-3 days, or a butternut stew for the husband.

Need.
Nap.
Now.

2 Steps Forward, 1 Step Back

I was really feeling good until the end of February. I mean, joint pain aside, that is. Mentally and emotionally I haven't felt THAT good in years. Then somehow at the end of February carrying thru the entirety of the month of March, it all went to shit.

I've been boosting my B12 and taking my iron in tablet form, hoping that it'll remedy the situation. My insomnia is back in full force. I feel drained all the time. And within the last seven weeks, I feel like I've aged 7-10 years. I feel old and frail and stooped.

My herniations in the neck and my seasonal allergies are kicked up into high gear.

I've been very depressed, and certain behaviors manifest themselves when I get like this, one of which is I tend to go overboard cooking. For normal folks with a household brimming with family, this would not be an issue, but it's just me and the husband, and though we like to eat most of the same types of foods, ideally, my diet is more protein based and his is more carbohydrate based, so really lots of times, I'm just making stuff for either myself or him.

Sundays are my usual "cooking for the week day," where I do big batches of stuff, or do up a week's worth of meals and package some up for the freezer, so on the days I don't cook, the husband can pick and choose what he wants to eat from the freezer. Just the other day, I pulled out a pint of double pork gumbo, so I just steamed up some rice and broiled up some blackened shrimp, and he was amazed at what lurks in the freezer.

The problem lies in the fact that I am a food hoarder, but not to the excessive extreme as I've seen on that dreadful t.v. show. I just like that sense of abundance, and that ability to just pull together a meal out of thin air. But there is a price to be paid, and that's usually a cluttered pantry that needs to be cleaned out regularly, as well as a freezer that needs to have the contents consumed more speedily.

But today, Easter Sunday, I don't just feel "flat" but feel like I've redefined bottom. I miss my dad profusely. Miss every little aspect of Easter Sundays that I'll never experience again with loved ones who have passed on, sobered by the knowledge that unless I break down and make a holiday call, no one in my family will call me.

Granted the holiday doesn't mean much to me anymore these days. By and large I feel forsaken, both, by God and by family, which of course, makes me cling to my husband even more, because my reality is, with the exception of some wonderful long-time friends, my husband is all I have in this world upon which I can rely.

Some days I get sucker punched with my grief, as it catches me out of the blue, unwittingly. I'll sit in my car and look up at the branches of the cherry trees or look up at the stars in the sky, and think if dad's anywhere, he's there. Or I close my eyes and I can visualize his face where my own face is, and he lives on in the facial expressions we both have. I rue about thinking, "Did we even exist?" "Where does the love go?" and I feel trapped.

My grief and sadness isn't exclusive to holidays. It happens out of the blue, like when I'm making a particularly delicious or adventurous dish. I think of the supreme compliment dad gave me one time after coming to my home in the 1990s for brunch, "I never know what I'm going to eat, but I always enjoy what I've eaten." So I think of him during delicious meals. I just wish that I had a few more meals to make for him.

In the fridge right now:

Leftover egg curry
Leftover pork vindaloo
Shrimp & chorizo marinating in garlic scape pesto to be cooked off tonight or tomorrow night
Pork loin marinating in ginger and teriyaki to be cooked up tonight or tomorrow
From the freezer (to make more room) leftover butter chicken & fenugreek potatoes

... and yet, I have a big bag of mixed fresh veggies which need to be dealt with before they spoil, and I was thinking of making a big batch of navratan korma (literally means 9 gems---nine ingredients, tho I don't know why they call it that, as it's got more than 9 ingredients), as well as a big batch of south Indian butternut squash stew.

So you see my problem. It's insane.

Oh, and the green room, my "den of iniquity," I haven't done shit to get it tidied up. It still brings a lot of anxiety when I come in here.

Fighting off the blues

Been actively depressed for over a month now. Bailed out of lunch in NYC with a friend on Monday, and was debating bailing out of knit night on Weds, but so glad I didn't. Had a good time, and felt good to be with actual friends. Had some seriously good laughs. Some times I think I need that one night a week to get out, and some weeks I feel that the other ladies need it more than I do. I love the vicissitudes, the dynamic and energy from week to week.

So very lucky to have good friends.

Prognosis Negative

So, I went to NewGynoTM yesterday for the follow up re: my fibroid which was removed on 3/13.

Pathology for both, the fibroid/polyp as well as my uterine lining were negative for cancer.

So it's a good news, bad news kinda thing. Good news = no cancer. Bad news = I have to live in pain or dull it with vicodin.

Let No Good Deed Go Unpunished

So, let's say I know you eat a lot of smoothies etc, and you put chia seeds in them. Every day.

So, let's say I let you know that Chia has arsenic in it, and merely, prudently suggest that you get your blood levels checked for arsenic, as I am getting mine tested for the same reason (i.e. that I, too, eat chia, tho not on the same level of regularity that you do).

There's no judgment on my part, when I made the innocent, yet helpful enough suggestion. Most folks do not know that chia contains laetril, aka "Vitamin B17" which contains arsenic.

Sure, you may get your blood tested regularly for other things. And sure your blood comes up negative for arsenic. Why does it come up negative? Well, arsenic isn't one of those things that will suddenly and magically appear on a standard CBC/Smack. This is something that you have to actually intentionally have a specific test run.

Unfortunately, I realize I've "poked the crazy" with my good intentions, when I share a few links, and of course you have to have the last word... fine fine! and share a few links of your own... only for you to "come back" with, "... and I eat apples WHOLE every day."

Funny thing here is, the same doctor who is touting the benefits of Chia is Dr. Oz, the very same doctor who several months back put the fear of arsenic via apple eating into most of the US.

At this point, I realize my good intentions are falling on deaf ears. And that's fine. I'm cool with that. That's your prerogative. Live and let live. Eat your apples, seeds and all. Eat all the chia to your heart's content. But when your youngest child who has been eating and drinking everything you have been for the last several years ends up with neurological issues or learning disabilities or behavioral issues due to arsenic toxicity, you have no one to blame but yourself.

And on the other hand....

Interesting, yet unique milestone met this weekend while shopping for a new pair of jeans. Went to The Avenue and picked up two pairs. Size 14. Fills me with glee, as this is the smallest size The Avenue sells (and they were a smidge loose--let's see if a run thru the washer and dryer doesn't fix that). Kinda makes me wistful, kinda, at the prospect of not "having" to shop at a shop specializing in larger sizes soon/anymore.

Ever be so depressed...

You wake yourself up out of a sound sleep, crying?

Yeah. That's where I'm at right this moment. Been weepy most of the weekend.

Tired of feeling this way, coupled up with missing my father really intensely. Feeling incredibly alone. And going on Monday for blood work and follow up with the gyno re: results of the fibroid/polyp thingy that was removed a few weeks back.

Not PMSing. Not sure what's causing this bit of weepy-ness.

Everyone's Journey's Different...

Blah blah blah.

I can't resist getting ticked off tho, that someone who had their surgery nearly 9 months to a year AFTER I have and they currently have lost 20# more than I have.

Granted, different surgeries for us both, and I've followed everything quite religiously (especially the no booze thing until nearly a year post-op).

Hoping that my weight loss will continue, albeit slowly, steadily, and hopefully that slow and steady wins this race... such as it is.

"Excuse me, have we met?"

That's pretty much what I wanted to blurt out in text to/with my sister, when in the text I sent about how I wouldn't be there for Easter but would be at Mother's Day, "depending on pain and weather." Which, if she paid any attention to me over the years would comprehend.

Instead, I get a text back, "What pain?" which I think I regaled in a previous blog post. I wasn't going to engage or poke the obtuse-ity, but decided I would, just to see what level of stupidity comes next.

So, I text back, "adenomyosis, herniation, deviated disc, damaged ACL in both knees, heel spurs, arthritis all throughout, and carpal tunnel."

Stupidity I received in return, "What herniation?"

My reply, "Uh, from the bad accident I was in, in 1999? Rear ended? By an 18 wheeler? Ring a bell?"

So far no reply.

Not that I need to justify my actions, however, between the low back pain which does NOT improve sitting stationary for 2.5 hours in traffic to get there (and back) the carpal tunnel poses just as big if not a bigger obstacle, as it's pretty damned difficult to steer a car if your hand is in spasm from carpal tunnel.

This is almost as tedious as trying to dispel her "myth" and presumption that I never wanted to have kids (vis-a-vis discussions about fertility and my adenomyosis & PCOS).

Have we met? Srsly. I wish there truly were a block user function for folks in real life.

So Yeah...

A few weeks ago, after being pressed to tell my sister about my adenomyosis, given the direct hit, such as it were, "So what's the big secret?" And when I told her what was going on, then decided to share she, was contemplating going in for ablation. One would assume that would have been sufficient to shut her up, given she's trying to compare notes, journeys or what... I give up.

She knew I was going in on 3/13 to get my fibroid (or polyp?) removed surgically. Yet haven't heard from her, not a peep, not a call or text to see how it went or how I'm feeling. Not that she needs to, but yanno, that's what I'd do if I *CARED*. So just like my gastric bypass which she had volunteered to come up and help me with the post op, which came and went without so much as a call to see how the surgery went or if I needed her help, the fibroid removal came and went without a call of concern or whatevs.

Yet, as I mentioned in a previous post, she did manage to call and leave a voicemail about Easter. I wait a few days to text back, "Can't make it for Easter. Depending on weather and pain, I might come down for Mother's Day." Reply got back, "Why are you in pain?"

Srsly?

I don't even want to engage anymore. It's just too fucking tedious.

What pain?:

Herniation in my neck
Diminished disc space in low spine
Congenital twist in hip
Damaged ACL in both knees
Heel spurs
Arthritis all throughout
Carpal tunnel (really a big problem gripping a steering wheel for 2.5 hours each way)

OH AND THE SEARING LOW BACK PAIN FROM THE ADENOMYOSIS YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A BONDING MOMENT OVER? That right there is what I want to scream at her. But it's not worth it. Things are stressful and tenuous enough as it is. Makes me very stabby thinking about it.

Survey Says...

No.

I'm not going for Easter. Sticking to my guns vis-a-vis no more big holiday family parties. Tho to be honest, in May there's no doubt going to be a Mother's Day "thing" possibly at my sister's house (again). So really, what am I missing out on? Oh yes, to do what sis wants me to do when and how she wants me to do it.

Mother's Day. Memorial Day. Fourth of July. Labor Day. Columbus Day. Halloween. Then "the holiday season." So... Yes. No. No. HELL NO. No. No. Will be in Panama. And "perhaps."

Been married ten-going-on-eleven years. She's been to my home precisely twice. So, uh. No.

In an oddball turn of events, I haven't responded to the voice mail immediately. No interest in it really.

I mean, fuck. 2.5 hour drive on a holiday weekend, starchy food I can't really eat, and I have to jam ear plugs in my ears just to get thru the "party?" only to drive 2.5 hours back home, and risk being killed by some nut changing lanes Helen Keller style at break neck speed? ALONE? Not my idea of a good time.

If I go she bitches about me, if I don't go she bitches about me. ::Shrugs:: I'd rather stay home, stay in my pajamas, eat some pork, GET PORKED, and have a lovely low key day, rather than fuck up yet another Sunday-leading-into-Monday, my least favorite day of the week.

Oh, PS? I'm still flowing. WTFF?

Eventually, I hope I won't give it anymore headspace; however, my harrasser has taken, now, to mocking my appearance. Apparently I look like Truman Capote (white, fat, and gay). Just wow. It's been over two weeks since the Great Defriending Debacle of 2012. You'd think all that rage would just be running on fumes right about now.

KAL Brand Calcium Citrate (Chewable)

FWIW, I'm mostly a Citracal Petites gal (for tablets) and only prefer "chewy" type chewable calciums (Bariatric Advantage, Calcet are my fave chewies; and Healthy Indulgence by Hero brand dark chocolates are all quite good).

I normally do not prefer the disk/wafer type chews that are usually too tart and too big and sometimes too hard to chew... kinda like a big hard Sweet Tart candy. I tried Bariatric Advantage and I believe Twin Labs brands chewable calcium citrates, both of which were so tart, I couldn't choke them back.

KAL brand calcium citrate, at least in the mixed fruit flavor, are quite pleasant. Much more sweet than tart, more reminiscent of Sweet Tart candies than the other disk/wafer type chews I've tried.

My habit is to take at least two of my doses per day in tablet form, and 2 doses in chewable. I do this for two reasons: 1. Calories (despite it being a mineral supplement, they DO contain calories, so taking tablets cuts down on extra calories being consumed); 2. I like to have something sweet in the afternoon with my coffee, something to feel like a sweet treat. The Bariatric Advantage and the Calcet chews fit that bill. And for when I feel like I need a dark chocolate (and ladies, you know what I mean by NEED chocolate), the Healthy Indulgence dark chocolates are truly delicious--they taste like high quality dark chocolate rather than a mineral supplement.

Wanting to take the path of least resistance...

Not really sure of what is the point of this blog post, but need to just purge it out of me so I can get on with my day. Harp harp harp, whine whine whine. Yeah. I'm going to bitch about my sister again.

While I don't "get" this alienation thing that's going on, and her passive-aggression vis-a-vis ignoring me, then saying something to mom about how I'm ignoring her, or better yet, her bitching about me (and my absence at family functions), I do understand, hey, life gets in the way. If I were a Type A with a child being cultivated to be Type A, had a job I hate (who doesn't?), had an ulcer, plus always over extending myself, yeah, I suppose I wouldn't have time to return a call or a text or an email or whatever.

Confused? Welcome to the club. So am I.

So imagine my "glee" when out of the blue, my cell phone rings last night, and of course, I didn't get to it fast enough to answer it (plus, let's be honest, the call came thru during the season premiere of Mad Men, enough said), when I realized the call I just missed was my sister. So yeah. Out of the blue. The only time I hear from her is on her terms, when she wants something from me. And the something in question is my presence at Easter dinner.

Yeah. That's what's got a bee in my bonnet as it were. I loathe making that drive to begin with. I loathe holiday parties with our family. They are too loud, rarely start on time, drag on forever, are focused primarily on food and snark, and I just am not up to it, physically or emotionally.

Harp harp harp, whine whine whine... yeah. And of course, the never-ending reminder of the void.

Why can't she call to make plans with ME, without a crowd, without an audience, without an agenda blah blah... early in the day on a SATURDAY, so I could either spend the day with her and go home during daylight hours, or sleep over and head home early Sunday a.m.?

Granted, I cannot control when Easter lands, and the obvious, that it always lands on a Sunday.
Granted, I cannot control my sister and her ambivalence about keeping in touch with me.
But I CAN control the circumstances around me, to a degree, by limiting my exposure to things that irritate, depress or anger me.

Perhaps I'd feel more inclined to make the effort to attend if the voicemail started with "Hey, how did the procedure go?" and then work up to Easter later on in the voicemail or perhaps during a follow up call. But it didn't. Yeah, I've got my judgey-pants on today. Hey, if I'm going to be vilified for avoiding family functions, I'll indulge a bit in it myself. I never hear from her. I've stopped trying to continue to forge or cultivate that relationship, as it's obvious how unbalanced and conditional it is. Yet, in my desire to try to do what is right for myself, philosophically and emotionally, I'm sure it has a cost, being a weirded out negative relationship with my niece.

Debating seriously about not going. It's just another Sunday to me anyway.

Look Away

Run down.
Depressed (physically and emotionally).


However, on an "up note," if I can even call it that, I discovered that there is actual medicinal properties to eating Indian food containing banana blossom. It actually is good for menstrual cramps and other female stuff.

No vicodin has been consumed thus far today.

The Verdict Is In

... regarding the after effects of having the fibroid or polyp removed: Onset day is a bit murky... can't tell if the flow on Thurs leading into Friday was the "spotting" or what, but yesterday evening into today... hellacious cramps. Took a vicodin in the evening yesterday and contemplating doing the same right about now.

Went for lunch w/a friend, then lost myself in thought in shopping for a few hours. Home now. Puttered with the pantry some more. Undershot how many baskets I should have bought, and need to traipse back to Chrismas Tree Shoppes again to get a few more, so I can get the pantry organized. I figure if I have baskets for my supplements, his supplements, and a few baskets which are "task specific" (in this case, baking supplies or canning supplies), it might help things have an overall asthetic of being tidy.

One thing this whole pantry organizing thing has brought to my mind, is how very much I am now a food hoarder since my surgery. I really get off on that sense of abundance, even if I'm not eating everything every second of the day. Hell, half the time when I do my "big cook day" of the week, just being around the food and smelling it cook is sufficient for me. And by the time I'm done cooking, I'm so sick of seeing and smelling what I've cooked, that I end up having some cheese and crackers and just call it a day.

I've got my "mise" for a few dishes already for me, but all I want to do right now is pop a vicodin, and wait a half hour so I can have some ice coffee.

Off to either crochet or curl up into the fetal position, I go.

Oh Boya...

Found out that Goya makes these diet versions of their fruit nectars, which I have to admit, makes me intensely happy. I don't drink all that much fruit juice in general, tho I do have an unrelenting love of Spicy V8. But every once in a while, it's a nice change to have a fruit juice as part of a snack (the lead-in to the solids).

Among the varieties I got, I got the soursop. At one time in the 1990s, I was fascinated by a fruit called the custard apple (I think Aussie Moist at the time put it in their shampoos), and even managed to buy one at a high end market once. Little did I realize that soursop and custard apple are the same fruit. And out of the varieties of the nectars, it's surprisingly lowest in calories.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soursop

Reading up the wiki on it, is a fascinating read. First off, there's a Hindu & Sri Lankan myth that Lord Rama and his monkey warrior Hanuman consumed this very fruit/juice en route to Sri Lanka (to rescue Sita from Ravana). So as I cracked the can open, but before I drank up, I muttered, "Jai Bajarang Bali!" (Hail Hanuman!)

Then there are two health related tidbits... one suggesting medical merit re: possibility of helping or preventing breast cancer; and one suggesting risk, that excessive consumption could contribute to Parkinson's-like lesions on the brain.

As with anything we ingest, a little bit of knowledge is power. Caveat emptor, and all that. Also a little bit of knowledge can ALSO be worrisome!

The juice? 25 calories and tasty. I think it was roughly .69 cents a can.

Feelin' Weird

As if feeling depressed weren't enough, I have this discomfort in the lower abdomen. Can't tell if it's bowel, uterine, or related to my bypass. An uncomfortable pressure weird fullness, with occasional twinges. Weird. Noting it here so when I do my follow up, I'll have a timeline. Breathing very slow, deliberate and shallow because of the discomfort.

No vicodin was ingested today.

Not much to report at the moment.

Hurry up and wait.

Haven't weighed myself. Not sure why. Not motivated to hop on the scale and see it not change, I suppose.

Given the stress of the last two weeks, the pain of the adenomyosis, the surgery to remove the polyp, the undue drama of the Great Unfriending of 2012, and having what I consider a high speed "near miss" on the GSP yesterday (someone was changing lanes, Helen Keller style, at about 80 mph, causing me to lose control of my car, and mercifully not be injured/killed, nor injure/kill someone else). Of course, the asshole in question who caused this chaos, continued on his merry way...

And despite taking my vitamins and staying hydrated and boosting myself with extra B12, I not only feel run down, but just depressed. I don't know if it's situational, chemical, or I'm PMSing or what. But I feel horrid, feel like crying, and workplace notwithstanding, I could easily see myself sobbing at my desk.

Follow up is scheduled for 4/2; however, I might try to change it to the week before, assuming Aunt Flow is out of town by then. So I suppose by then I'll get the low down of size/location of the fibroid/polyp, find out the pathology of it; and perhaps even get a chance to discuss the weird boob twinge thing I've had for the last month or so.

I'm just spent. And tonight I feel like eating something meaty. I might run to Whole Foods for a steak and some salad from the salad bar.

Not much to report...

Had a great phone in session w/the therapist about everything from the last nearly two weeks.

Have to follow up w/the gyno next week. Goody yet another day out of the office. Anyway, will try to piggy back an appt w/the therapist on the same day if I can, and possibly score dinner in NYC w/the hubby too, thus hitting my day in the city "trifecta."

More conclusive deets next week. I'm sure there's a pathology being run on whatever they removed. I say "whatever," because really ultrasound aside, they didn't know what they were dealing with, polyp or fibroid, until they got in there and rooted around w/the hysteroscope.

Not in any real or extra pain since the procedure, tho I get a weird twingey sensation... not sure what that is.

So Yeah...

In a nutshell, I'm being stalked. Decided to make my blog invitation only to form yet another choke point of access (to me) for the stalker/harrasser.

EOS.

Cheese & Croutons

Cheese and croutons have been consumed. Time for a nap. Been a longish day.

Tuesday & Rohypnol, Perfect Together

Correction: It was propophol....

Today I go in to get the pesky polyp removed. Almost seems more bother than the 45 minute travel time, wait time in lobby, plus wait time for the rohypnol to do its thing. Procedure should be very quick, so I'm just hoping the wait isn't unbearable.

Here's hoping we can get some fried chicken for lunch to take home. Physically spent, so doing my day in the city routine is out of the question for a while.

Here's hoping that the polyp removal is enough to facilitate a positive change vis-a-vis the horrid pain.

Also worth mentioning, on another note, I contacted a custom closet business re: arranging a consultation. I want to start small, perhaps get a new pantry, then work from there.

Rome wasn't built in a day.

On Being Oscar Madison

So, I emailed Felix and let him know a link to a professional organizer, and for him to inquire about cost and services.

I'm hopeful to get things organized and neat, and hopefully it'll facilitate more focus and happiness in the house.

This was my one deed for the day, to work towards health and happiness.

Back to the Usual Drivel

Mini timeline:

2/24/12 Adenomyosis & polyp Dx.
2/26/12 Onset day.
3/13/12 Out patient polyp removal.

To do list:

Make some calls re: MSW who specializes in hoarding and reorganizing.

Redux: On Life, Dharma & Pursuit of (Health and) Happiness

I don't "get" the whole "why won't she talk to me about how or why she doesn't want to talk to me anymore" bit.

Obviously, my focus is on me and my health. I don't expect most folks to understand where I'm coming from. I mean, really, who REALLY knows any of us? It's presumptuous to reduce the entirety of who someone really is (isn't it?). While I do appreciate folks who do speak their mind, and I don't much prefer folks to blow smoke up my ass, there IS something to be said about finesse, and even more to be said and appreciated about knowing when to just STFU.

A good lot of communication is equal parts listening, equal parts talking, and equal parts knowing when to just STFU. Like I said, "finesse."

So I find it amusing (or ironic, or sad, or obtuse, or grotesque, even) when after the "don't go away mad, just go away" has been uttered, that any reply is even necessary or warranted, much less a reply which pretty much marginalizes, dismisses or mocks the fact I was offended. Again, in active, actual physical pain here, emotional pain and existential pain aside. So yeah, it's intellectually lazy to vilify me for having standards of what I'm willing to tolerate in life, online or IRL.

She said what she said.
I said what I said.
We obviously are philosophically opposed to what either has said.
It's not my job to provide "home training" regarding what IS finesse exactly, and how does one actually ... FINESSE. I've got other shit to deal with.

Ultimately, the result would have been the same, whether I used my "big girl words" or not, being, one of us was going to end up being offended. So she offended me w/being so blunt, and I offended her by pulling back. And yet, the diatribes continue. The time to have been so concerned about the "slow fade" as I call it, was when I was actively pulling back, letting the situation (and her, I suppose) do the slow fade to black, into obscurity, before the Great Unfriending happened; however, no comment or acknowledgement was made during the 10 days of near radio silence.

Make no mistake, this was not passive aggression on my part. My decision to unfriend was aggressive. I thought about it for ten days. Yet, her hostile vaguely veiled status updates, which could have been about me, or someone else, who knows... passive aggressive comments left on friends' status updates, not to mention posting on a knitting site about the situation, comically playing the martyr at my expense.

This entire experience has been useful for me. Truly. Reminds me of how or why I ordinarily DO have a personal policy about not actively cultivating friendships with folks who are under the age of 30, as I think there's not much that either side can relate to the other. Very useful to know who has the sensitivity to render any adequate support. That's cool. I can manage.

I'm not even angry. It's just very matter-of-fact at this point. Similarly, I've unfriended my own family members and viewed it in the same vein as when I did DIY surgery on my own plantars wart: to remove annoyance and additional pain in the future. I have no time for anger, as it just blurs my focus.

She's not a friend if she expresses her opinion, and I express my hurt and she MOCKS me for it. That is NOT my definition a friend. That's my bottom line.

Every person is entitled to live their lives as they see fit. I try not to judge the choices of others. Live and let live. The only person I am accountable to or for, is ME. Mindful and trying to be kind, but at my core, my primary concern, my primary focus is ME.

Not every single opinion needs to be shared every second. Perhaps that's something that comes with age. I don't know. All I know is that my focus is on my health, managing my pain, possibly explore the idea of conceiving a child before it's too late, and of course, grappling with the obvious, which is totally lost on some folks: my own mortality, and the consequences of every single decision I make for the rest of the year.

I stand firm to my decision to back away and focus my energies on myself, and surround myself with folks who are truly supportive of me and what I'm going through. No sympathy ploy here. I don't need to be validated by and large by nameless, faceless folks on the internet, much less have a child dispense life advice to me, or make me feel like I am in a position where I have to justify anything about my life, my health, or my life decisions to her.

A lady always knows when it's time to leave. So I left. End of discussion.

Ironic Twist

So, as I'm going thru what I'm going thru, and struggling with the grief that adenomyosis can bring, existential, fertility, and survival, my mother informs me, rather matter of factly, that my sister has changed her designation in her will. Which is to say, that should something unfortunate befall my sister and brother-in-law, I will not be the person who raises my niece.

It's just a hypothetical situation. I know. A situation tethered to the earthly demise of my sister, so I can't even be pissed off about it. Hell, it's so gauche to think of it in a logical sense, "Oh damn it, I don't get custody of my hypothetically dead sister."

But still it makes me wince a little. I might not have a kid of my own, PLUS, I won't get custody of my niece.

In an ironic twist, it makes me chuckle how all this stuff seems to be inter-related.

I know that the custody designation is in response to (and quite possibly, my punishment for) my emotional and physical pulling back from ALL family, not just my sister and my niece since my dad died in 2008. I've needed that time to regroup, deal with my grief, and (hell!), deal with all the other shit in my life, physical and emotional health.

But the reality is, granted, I have pulled back; however, if I did not text my sister or email her (of which she only replies 50% of the time, IF THAT), I'd never hear from her unless she wants something (i.e. my niece is begging/selling shit for a fund raiser for one of the many groups/activities she's in). To be honest, I don't know what I have done, beyond the pull back. And no, I don't send gifts anymore unless I'm present to present the present, because I never get an acknowledgement or a thank you (so why bother?). And I never hear from my sister or my niece. I never get a birthday card. Xmas time has been fucked in the ass for me too ("oh we're only giving gifts to the KIDS now").

Furthermore, I cannot and will not tell my sister about my situation. I never hear from her, so why would I share such a personal thing? She also has an ulcer, so why add to her stress? Also, I already have doctors, I don't need her to activate her LPN Superpowers for me. I already have the best doctors I can find working on my assorted health issues. I don't need her to be a nurse. I need her to be my sister. And sadly, she just can't do that. And yet, I am acutely aware that she bitches about me, my absence, etc, yet is too cowardly to confront me about it.

So why won't I confront her? Because I'm trying to conserve my energy FOR ME. I don't have anything else to give anyone else. And if she can't be my sister, I'd gladly just continue taking silence.

On Life, Dharma, and the Pursuit of Health & Happiness

I don't put myself out there as a Buddhist, tho I do find a lot of the philosophies practical in nature. I don't know offhand the four noble truths nor do I have the eightfold path memorized. But three things I do know are:

1. Take that which is useful (and discard the rest).
2. All life is suffering.
3. The endpoint to dharma is happiness.

So by that logic, I have come to the conclusion that your happiness does not come about by adding to the suffering of others.

Anyone who really knows me knows I have a lot on my plate physically and emotionally, AND existentially. By extension, I really don't have all that much to give others (family or friends, or worse, folks who put themselves out there as friends, but their words or actions belie otherwise). So if I must make some discards, and distance myself from things or people who are toxic in order to conserve my energies for myself and my health and well being, then so be it.

I don't have the time or energy to indulge opinionated, hostile folks who militantly reduce my whole health issues to the global overpopulation issue. Obviously, the focus of all my visits to my doctors in NYC is lost on some folks.

I don't wish you ill.
I don't wish you well.

Don't go away mad. Just go away.

Reply From NewGyno(TM)

In regards to my concerns or interest in the artery embolization etc, and inquiring about the severity of my particular case of adenomyosis:

First off…embolization is out. Conceiving after that is not recommended. Adenomyosis, like every other entity in medicine, has varying degrees of severity. Many women with it have no issues and conceive and go through life never knowing….some can have it much worse… Treatment depends of symptoms. Again, many are not treated, some need bcps, severe cases end up needing surgery…it all depends. The severity is really related to symptoms. I’d say you have a mild case. *Note: Emphasis mine.

PCOS & Adenomyosis

Going to read up as much as I can, and of course ask my ReproEndoGuy (TM) as much as I can. I wonder about what percentage of PCOS "cysters" end up with this.

In the meantime, at least I have a good starting point for info and support. A person following me on Twitter provided this link. It is useful enough for me to ask about artery embolization.

http://www.adenomyosisadviceassociation.org

And on a related note: Not only was my sister diagnosed w/PCOS years before me and never mentioned it (so that I might, yanno, get tested and TREATED for it), she also allegedly has something "endometrial" going on, and again, no mention of it. I get diagnosed, I tell everyone to raise awareness. Keeping shit to yourself when it might help others is nothing more than a tacit fuck you, you're on your own.

Crisis.

Existential.

And no, I won't just accept it. Whatever IT is. The crisis hasn't even been fully realized/actualized yet. Too much to process.

A Dx. Finally.

Got the Dx. from NewGyno(tm): Adenomyosis and a polyp.

Polyp is scheduled to be removed on 3/13.

All I managed to ask today (I'm now an emotional wreck) is, "Is it life threatening?" (Answer: No; however, after I Wiki'd adenomyosis, I now have two follow up questions: 1. Will this affect my fertility? 2. At what point would hysterectomy be necessary? And I guess there's a third follow up question: 3. What percentage of women end up with endometrial or other uterine cancers as a result of this?

Totally Un-related: No Poo

I've decided to attempt to go shampoo free for a while. My scalp is in agony.

Grrrrrr! 3 Months = 5#

WTFF! It's slowing down considerably. :(

Today: Yet Another Ultrasound

So today I spent my lunch hour undergoing yet another ultrasound, as the ultrasound from WTFFGyno(TM) was so colossally fucked up and poorly written NewGyno(tm) could not figure out: 1. If I even had a fibroid at all; and 2. If so, where was the location of it? So we could not even plan a course of action without these very crucial details.

So off I scampered to the imaging center, with a nearly-too-full bladder. They took me in immediately. I remember the technician from another diagnostic I had not that long ago. "Dry" and professional would be how I'd define her. I guess good qualities to have in her line of work.

She got me in and out in under 20 minutes. And when nothing conclusive showed up on the regular ultrasound, she suggested having a trans-vaginal, just to be sure.

Preliminary result: No fibroids were spotted. WTFF? So WTFFGyno(tm) scared the shit out of me, unnecessarily so, by putting the cart before the horse w/the Novasure ablation shit without even discussing if I wanted to have kids or not, when her own report was so fucking vague she didn't know conclusively if I had fibroids or not... yet she already had her mind made up as to what HER course of action for MY uterus was going to be? Just fucking infuriates me to no end.

So here I sit, waiting for NewGyno(tm) to call with the official results.

Never Gave It Much Thought

Never gave my supplements much thought. Here's my magnesium and a vitamin C, both measure roughly an inch, and yet I'm able to get it thru my stoma. Not sure if it's how I swallow them down, or that I take hot coffee with them, but I'm able to get them in there, without blockage or discomfort or without regurgitating them back up.

I'm 13 months out from RnY.

YMMV.

Everyone's journey is different.

Today: Endocrinologist & Sausagefest

That's all. Heading into NYC (yet again, a third time in about a week, for yet another doctor appointment) this time to see my endocrinologist.

Afterwards, I'm hanging with a friend for a bit, and will grab lunch. German wursts are the bests!

Recap: The New Gyno

This morning, I decided to do something a little bit outside my comfort zone. Not sure of the motivation, but it was something I've been reluctant to do on my many trips to NYC, especially the trips into the city which are way uptown: Rather than go the "safe route" or the expected route, or the route I ALWAYS take (i.e. get off at GCT, then take the subway, either the 1 or the 6 depending), I decided to get off at the (East) 125th Street station and then take the subway nearby. The alternative would be for me to get off at GCT, then take the subway back up town about 50 blocks; getting off at 125th meant I had to take roughly 30 blocks downtown.

I know, such a trivial difference, amounting to all of about 20 blocks I saved. It just seemed the most direct route.

The issue, the "outside my comfort zone," regarding 125th is, to me, until today, it's been a great unknown. Plus it's Harlem, which despite the best intentions gentrification has to offer, still hasn't made me feel all that much more safe or confident about getting off at 125th as an option.

But like anything else, hopefully, this will become part of my routine. And silly as it might seem, I did manage to have some sense of accomplishment, that I was able to negotiate which direction to walk/take upon exiting the train station to get to the subway platform. I was thinking surely the subway platform was reachable at the 125th station, but glad I did my homework via Google Maps and realize that wasn't the case. Google maps' street view is an awesome feature, and I was able to landmark two businesses, so I could get my bearings.

Such a nervous nellie, but safety is always on my mind, and I tend not to leave too many things to chance.

So, today's appointment was with my new gynecologist. This is the gynecologist with whom I will be doing my follow up re: the fibroid (tho we're not even sure if it even IS a fibroid).

As I suspected, the ultrasound and pap and other records from the gyno I saw in September never were forwarded to the new doctor, despite me jumping thru their little hoops and filling out the release paperwork in November. This is reason #2 I won't be doing follow up at that office: slip shod admin staff.

So we were "shooting blind" as it were during the consultation. The doctor arranged to have the ultrasound paperwork faxed, so I sat and crocheted while we waited for the paperwork to come in.

This proved to be a colossal waste of time, as the ultrasound report was so SHITTY, so poorly worded and lacking in crucial information (i.e. location of the fibroid), and also made some indication about a growth, but nothing conclusive which we could actually formulate a plan of action around. This is reason #3 why I will not be doing follow up with the previous doctor.

So the recap of reasons why I won't go back to her:

1. Shitty "stirrup side demeanor" coupled up with the callousness of scaring me re: handing me a Novasure pamphlet without even: 1. Knowing with certainty I even have a fibroid etc; and 2. Not even asking me if I want to have kids or not, as the Novasure would take that option away from me, irrevocably;

2. Shitty admin follow up for a simple records release request;

3. Shitty, vague and inconclusive report writing, which a direct result is me having to waste a perfectly good lunch hour at an imaging center to get yet another ultrasound done.

So rather than today being merely a step in the process by which to get this taken care of, we ended up back tracking, and today ended up being the first step of a NEW process.

An Rx was written for a pelvic ultrasound, and while I was in the city I texted my husband, who kindly set up an appt for me for Tuesday during my lunch, otherwise, I'd have to wait until Tuesday itself to call and arrange an appointment, and I didn't want to lose precious time to make the appointment, especially given this is going to be a long holiday weekend.

The doctor seemed affable enough and receptive to what is going on with my life and health, and actually reassured me that whatever this is, if it is a fibroid or a polyp, it will be treatable and most likely benign.

So, hurry up and wait until Tuesday. Hopefully I'll know something conclusive by the end of next week or the following Monday.

Sad thing is, the first gyno in question, the shitty gyno, was recommended to me by a good friend. I feel I cannot even tell my friend about what's-what from today's appointment. I don't want her to feel as if whatever dissatisfaction I feel towards the gyno is in any way reflected on her, as she's the one who recommended the gyno to me in the first place. But I really feel like she should explore her options and find a new gyno, because this one so very obviously has her own ideas and agenda as it pertains to the health of her patients, and I dare say it's to their detriment. Color me, unimpressed (with her).

However disappointed I was with today's outcome, as I was hoping to get a plan of action started today, I feel my gut instinct really was validated today, and I did the right thing for me and my health, to seek out another doctor.

One Year

Had my one year follow up visit with the surgeon.

He and his PA or is she a NP?, both seem pleased with my progress. Lost 21 lbs since the last time I saw them, tho it's been like 3 months, and I really wish it were more.

Nothing new to report. Follow up w/them again in six months, which brings me close to my birthday.

Gravitational Stalemate

No loss.
No gain.

Tho did show a 3 lb loss once I returned from India, the after-effects of pneumonia.

Things are slowing down now.

I'd be happy if I could dump off another 25. Then I can just coast on thru on autopilot.

And maybe explore pilates or something for toning. It's just this damned pain issue...

January's Just Not My Month.

1/10-1/21 India
1/23-Current writing, been vexed with both pneumonia and the after effects of pneumonia.
1/29 Though I was having mid-cycle (22nd day) spotting.
1/30 I was incorrect. Cramps in full force.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreat.

On an upnote, due to the dehydration and just lack of eating from all the coughing (and all the sleeping), I seem to have broken my pre-India weight-loss plateau. Let's wait and see what THIS Friday brings. I'll believe the plateau has broken, if this week shows the same loss if not more, than last week's.

PS: Lot of "good" (dripping with sarcasm here) that influenza vaccination did. Managed to catch some andromeda strain on the flight from Chennai to Frankfurt. Bastards!

WTF

Dear Ovaries,

What the fuck. No srsly. WHAT THE FUCK? 22 days onset day to onset day?

Onset Day

Gout Flare

First one in a month. Tip of big toe of right foot.

Four More 'Til 90

That is all.

Pressure Check

Went yesterday. 112/70.

Only medication I'm on is my quinapril.

Internist thinks my desire to lose another 30-40 is unrealistic. He thinks 25 maximum, otherwise he thinks I'd be too slight. Funny thing is, losing 25# only puts me at 170, which isn't "slight." But I guess for my frame, he might be right.

Need a New Habit

Really have to get myself out of the habit of being awake all hours of the night, despite the fact that's when I feel most alive and creative, during the part of the day when most of the world (or at least in my time zone, that is) is asleep.

The longer I am up, the more calories I consume as a result of my pattern of eating every 3 hours.

I need to start getting into the habit, to mentally prepare to relax. Debating the merits of taking a hot shower after dinner, switching to herbal (or at the very least, peppermint) tea rather than drinking coffee, and popping a melatonin for the first few days to get me into the routine.

There's not all that much on t.v. I find fascinating, so it's not like I'm up watching t.v. I'm usually up online, chatting, surfing, playing games etc, and finding it harder and harder to get to sleep, and finding that my weight loss progress has stalled.

This needs to change.

TONIGHT.

And then there was one...

One prescription, that is.

I was on metformin, and tricor, and effexor, and spironolactone.

Now, I'm just on my blood pressure pill, quinipril (and occasionally ultracet or lortab for pain).

Feeling a bit accomplished. THIS is what was MY objective. Not a dress size. Not a gravitational pull. To get off Big Pharma's teat. *SIGH* Now if only I could get off this one, too.

Shots, Clots and More

Weight: 196

Went to internist for a few vaccinations for a trip which will happen sooner than later. Got a flu shot too, just because. I do believe it's the first flu shot I've ever gotten in 43 yrs. Wild!

Internist decided to take me off my spironolactone. I go back in 2 weeks to check my pressure and to see if I end up with edema. The suspicion is I"ll be okay. The added suspicion is that the spironolactone might be contributing to my gout flares.

Onset day! Yay! Which if I'm at a 22-25 day cycle will put my next onset day at... Christmas, which means it should be over (enough) in time for my appointment with my new gyno on January 6th. Hope to get the fibroid issue addressed and come up with a plan of action then. In a considerable amount of pain.

Go back to internist on 1/7 for the follow up shot for one of the Heps (don't remember if it's A or B); and also talk about anti-malarials. When I think of anti-malarials, it makes me think my upcoming trip will be far more adventurous than it'll be.

Stay tuned.

One-derland

Weight today: 199
Total lost: 81

Here's a list of what supplements I take, as well as the dosing:

(This first group I take first thing in the a.m. with a hot cup of coffee):
Magnesium 400 mg (3x daily)
Omega-3 1400 mg (1x)
Flax seed oil 1300 mg (1x)
Evening Primrose Oil 1000 mg (1x)
Colace 200 mg (1x)
2 Gummy VitaFusion Prenatal Multivitamins
2 Gummy VitaFusion Sugar Free Fiber Chews, 5 gm, 1x

Then throughout the day I manage to get these in:
Biotin 5000 mg (1x)
D3 2000 IU (2x)
Folate 800 mcg (1x)
Calcium Citrate, 250 mg (4x)
Policocanol combination capsule, 1x (contains policosanol, alpha lipoic acid, grape seed extract, milk thistle & artichoke)
Cherry extract 1000 mg, 1x
Hyaluronic Acid capsule 1x (contains 100 mg Hyaluronic acid 900 mg MSM)
1 Centrum Chewable (contains iron; I don’t take a spare iron supplement, and so far my levels are good)
1 Chewable Vitamin C, 500 mg, 1x

11/2/11

Onset day.

Grrrrr!

Haven't lost a pound in nearly a month.

So, I'm a Pelican...

10/10/11 Onset

So Far, No Extra Shedding

One week into the shampoo every day (okay, I skipped one day this week due to pure laziness), and I am not seeing any extra hair in my brush. If anything, I might be seeing LESS shedding. MIGHT. This of course is not what I was anticipating. Don't know if it's the washing or the Centrum (in the a.m.) + the prenatal vitamin (in the p.m.) I take every day (plus the extra folate and the biotin, etc etc). But so far I'm pleased. So far.

My Hair

It's thinning. I guess a normal consequence of my PCOS. However, all of my androgen levels are good, with only my DHEA being somewhat elevated (tho no where's near as high as it's been).

I had been in a rut where I wasn't shampooing every day (or even every other day for that matter), partially because I'm lazy, and partially because of the fear that excessive washing would cause more shedding.

Going to try to shampoo every day (if I can). My hair is quite long at this point, so it's a PITA to shampoo it. I normally donate a pony tail every other year or so, and I guess I might be overdue for a donation. Though I do notice that each subsequent ponytail isn't as robust or lush as I wish it were.

I'm hoping that since I'm on so many MORE supplements now, post-op, I'm hoping that perhaps it might be enough to kick start the hair growth. My fingernails look utterly great, and I hope for the same for my hair.

Shampoo every day w/regular shampoo, leaving the suds on for 5 minutes while I scrub the rest of my body. Shampoo 1x a week w/a ketoconazole & salicylic acid based shampoo. Towel dry. And argan oil the hair (and hairline) itself to keep it from getting dry, brittle, and fly away. I think this weekend I might breakdown and get it chopped. Might.

Also boosting my biotin and folate, hoping for the best. Was thinking of boosting my niacin, but think I bought the "wrong type," and besides it might be too much on top of the Centrum I take in the morning, and the pre-natal I take in the evening.

My endocrinologist recommended I check out the videos on this site; however, it appears the videos are not loading. Going to keep checking back at that link and see if they'll fix the streaming.

Post-Endo Synopsis

Lost 14 lbs since the last time I saw him. Not pleased at so little, but hey, at least it's LOSING and not gaining.

Blood pressure still needs to come down, remained pretty constant around 130/80 (on average), despite losing close to 25% of my overall body weight. But then again? My coffee consumption has (easily) doubled or even tripled since my surgery. Everyone's got a vice, mine is coffee. I'm trying not to be hard on myself, because some folks end up becoming alcoholics post-op, because they can't comfort themselves with food, and liquids are easier to get in, plus post-op it doesn't take much booze to affect you. So, I won't be too hard on myself about the coffee. Plus, it's got magical laxative effects. I could make an argument I drink it for medicinal purposes.

Not sure if my uric acid levels dropped as a result of the post-op dietary changes (unlikely, as seafood and cheese are still being consumed regularly), or if it's from exogenous sources such as the cherry extract capsules I've been taking for the last month. Whatever it is, it seems to be working. Just wish my joints would stop hurting.

Everything seemed to be within normal parameters except for my good cholesterol, but I suspect as I lose more weight (and hopefully when the joint pain gets addressed), I'll become more mobile, and those levels will change. But let's face it. I'm a sloth.

Thinking seriously of putting together a spreadsheet, so I can compare in 3 month intervals, starting the year before my surgery right up to current date, the progress I've made, lab results-wise.

The new-to-me-gyno will be GonzoGyno hereforward. When I saw the endo on Monday he asked about the ultrasound results, of which I hadn't received, even after being terrorized by being handed that pamphlet for Novasure without discussion. I refuse to call GonzoGyno's office. Endo's office got the results for me. 2.5 cm fibroid (tho I didn't get the location of it), and my endometrial stripe is perfect. So I was terrorized for absolutely nothing.

One thing I think SOME doctors neglect to realize is the economics involved in being a patient, and fail to realize that while these assholes treat their patients like a dollar sign or a number rather than treating them with dignity and compassion (subtext: "Do no harm"), they also, by extension fail to realize that the patient, much like any CONSUMER when displeased with the quality (or lack thereof) of services rendered is free to take their business elsewhere.

Life is too short for me to suffer fools. Hence, I'll be taking my endo's recommendation. Granted it means yet another health care provider of mine is in NYC, but it's only 35 minutes away via train; it's not as if it's JUPITER.

Return: December.
Meds get shifted around/changed. June starts our "100 Day Project."

Horrendous Cramps

Finally broke down and slurped some liquid children's motrin (after I ate). Hopefully that little bit is enough to soften the sharp pain. Really don't want to rely on my Lortab...there are times I actually want to stay awake.

Friday's Noms

Mammy and Pappy

Well, at least two tests came back clean!

Day 2 of 7

Day two of no communication from the new-to-me gyno re: results of ultrasound.

Note to self: do a preliminary call to see if the recommended gyno in NYC is taking new patients and if he takes my insurance.

Also: 1 p.m. head to former gyno's office to pick up medical records, because the dolts can't figure out what to do.

24 Days

Yikes. Normally I'm 28-35 days, onset day to onset day.

Today took me by surprised: 24 days onset day to onset day. WTF?

Also: OF COURSE. I *HAD* TO BE WEARING KHAKIS TODAY.

Protip: Dear NYC metro area menstruators, do NOT use Duane Reade ultra thins. While the pad itself is what you'd expect, the adhesive DOES NOT ADHERE. Dear Duane Reade Corporate/Dear MEN in Duane Reade Corporate: Next to absorption, ADHESION is the second most important thing a woman looks for in an ADHESIVE menstrual pad.

Month-long Plateau

That is all.

Preliminary Result

Technician said I have a 2 cm fibroid, and did not notice any other abnormality. She also gave me some feedback that, YES VIRGINIA, this doctor isn't "chatty," and would more likely comment/compliment me on my necklace (WHICH SHE MOST CERTAINLY, FUCKING *DID*) than she would make small talk to find out if I was even interested in having kids or not.

So hurry up and wait until this antisocial twunt calls me back to let me know the full results of the ultrasounding of my snapper.

Who has time to be trifled like this?

Future Recourse

My endocrinologist made a recommendation for a gynecologic oncologist, should I need to seek out a second opinion. And even if I don't require a second opinion (assuming all is clear on my ultrasound and any biopsy and any other diagnostics to be run to determine what is going on with my baby basket), I might still seek out this doctor for a consultation and see if he can be my primary gyno.

I loathe pussyfooting around with a good majority of the medical professionals found in the 'burbs. Who has the time and energy to be trifled with? And if going to Columbia for my gastric bypass, and going to Mt. Sinai for a gynecological consult makes me a snob, then so be it. At least I'm a snob who is alive and well, and has a reasonable quality of life.

It's like that line of dialogue from Shawshank Redemeption, "Either get busy living, or get busy dying." Therein is the rub. Dying a slow death due to negligence (either by me or by an inept doctor) is not an acceptable state of being for me.

Three more days until my ultrasound... well, TWO more and "a wake up."

Ultrasound

Turns out 9/12 is a hot hot day in our office to be out, as two of the remaining secretaries will also be out that day for doctor appointments.

Works out better for me that I rescheduled my ultrasound for this coming Saturday. At least it's two extra days I don't have to be waiting for this diagnostic.

Already sent out an email to my endocrinologist telling him what's going on. Hopefully he'll be able to navigate things, medically, for me; and hopefully he'll provide me with a recommendation for a gynecologist who specializes in this type of thing.

Perhaps I'm a glutton for punishment.

Today is my ten year wedding anniversary, and the "pragmatic me" scheduled a gyno appt, much in the way of how I scheduled blood work for my birthday last month.

I'm finally going to address the excessive pain and excessive mess of my periods. Tomorrow is a mamo. 9/12 is the ultrasound to get an idea of what’s cookin’ in my uterus (i.e. fibroids, cysts, endometriosis? the mind reels, honestly).

Depending on the outcome, I may end up having to go in for a procedure which not only could potentially decrease my ability to get pregnant, but make it even more dangerous (more dangerous than just being 43 with a blood clotting disorder, that is) to get pregnant.

I spent 10 years with the ex, wasting prime baby making years on him, with that marriage imploding the very year we were to start working at starting a family. Yet, there he is, divorced from #2, and with a son who has the very name I picked out for the son we never had.

And here I am 43, rickety, broken down, some days unable or unwilling to take care of myself, and kind of feeling numb, not really sad, that the notion of DECIDING to have a kid was not something I’d have a part in.

My reality I have to come to accept, eventually is, that for me, I never had the luxury of making that decision. Either other people or circumstances stood in my way (poverty in the first marriage; and now post-op gastric bypass here), and here I am at the tail end of that aftermath, with husband #2, who is okay with the idea of adoption if we choose to do so, and I just feel numb.

Time is standing still, somewhat. I can look backwards in time, and look to the present, but left to live in the here and now, and not look forward. Beyond me there is nothingness.

I’m undecided how I feel about this. I love my life. I love my vacations and my husband and my home. I would have loved to have had a kid of my own, and yet, always held back on letting that desire drive me in life. To me my gender never equated to my destiny.

I wasn’t sad when I first started typing this. And now…I selfishly wish my dad were alive today, so I could bury my face in his chest, and we both could cry about this together.

Adipose Apron

Yeah. Mine is now deflated to a large degree, and the skin now stays put if I pinch it. Yes. It stays pinched. Wild stuff. Husband declared I've got ball skin on my belly.

Gone Fishin'

Kinda.

Emotionally and physically taxed, exhausted, spent. Light headed. Legs have a rubber bandy type feeling in the joints. Going into a downward spiral. Going inward. Hibernating. The juices have run clear. The meat has fallen off the bone. I'm done. For now. Just done. Have to work on building my energy back up. Been taxed for over a month, and this is the consequence. Radio silence until... whenever.