MI

Mental Illness sucks.

Being so ill that you start thinking 'gee, if I was dead, I wouldn't have to worry about what to do about work' and viewing that as a positive . . .well that sucks.

I'm getting help.

I've seen a GP. Dr Racist. Yeah, I know. But when you're mid meltdown, almost any GP will do. He thinks my Depression score is too high and I'm catastrophising. He doesn't believe I'm that depressed. Damn. And I actually minimised some answers.

I have new meds - Pristiq and Lexotan. After two weeks they've pretty much achieved . . .nothing.

I have a new psychologist (aka LD). I've seen her twice. We have a long way to go.

I tried to resign my job and achieved . . .almost nothing. My boss wouldn't accept it. She wants me to wait until the meds work, think clearly and come back. So I'm on leave.

Personally I can't see myself ever teaching anyone else's children ever again.

But I'm still here.

Medically required farts and more. . .

I'm home! It's been a while since I've been so glad to see my large, comfy bed with my own doonah and own ensuite and own pillows and it's almost bliss!!

The operation went well. As far as I know - I certainly don't remember details about during!

Recovery is going ok. I have bad pain in both shoulders - slightly worse on the left - which is driving me mental. It's actually worse than at the incision sites, of which there are 5. Yep, 5 more dashes on the stomach to add to the collection of jigsaw inspirited body modifications.

My stomach has definitely shrunk in size - I can only eat sloppy food and slooooowwwwly. If I eat too fast, I hurt. If I eat too much, I hurt. I can manage to get down about 10 spoons of whatever I'm eating and them I'm pretty much done.

I managed to get discharged after 2 days simply because I couldn't sleep in hospital. I am an Amazon woman in a bed sized for children. Really. Plus I was right next to the nurses' station and they never shut up! I really didn't need to know more details about 1028's bowel problem. The pillows were hard, the bed was lumpy and I was miserable. So Dr Damn Nice was damn nice and let me go early so I could get some sleep and well, go home and fart.

Yes, apparently it's now a medical necessity that I fart as often and as largely as I can. Gas that was pumped into my body during the op needs to come out and the shoulder pain apparently won't go for some time, especially if I don't start cutting the cheese on a regular basis.

Ahhh recovery. It's so glam!

Let the cutting begin . . .

It's on!

This time tomorrow I'll no doubt be sore and feeling sorry for myself. Oh wait, that's already happening tonight! lol

I have to be at the hospital at 6am. Without a coffee. How rude!!

Surgery begins around 8am.

Wish me luck that Dr Damn Nice does a lovely job and I don't become - yet again - the Queen of Complications.

I have a date!

With a surgeon that is.

First surgery on the stomach is booked for 25th June which is about 4 weeks away. That way I should be ok to struggle on through, plus will have two weeks of the school holidays to loll around in bed trying to recover!

I should be in hospital for around 2-3 days and will be on what my Mum describes as 'old lady food'. Yes, it will be slops for me for quite some time apparently. Joy! I think I'll have to head out and have a damn big slab of steak just for the heck of it, before I go in.

Dr Damn Nice did an Endoscopy to check out the situation and I have some rather icky pictures of the inside of my stomach. Or stomachs because at the moment mine is sort of split in two. Any Wiggles fans? Sing along with me: I'm a cow, I'm a cow.

The Endoscopy went fine. I was really nervous about having a huge tube stuck down my throat and being awake for it, but the drugs!! Oh, the drugs!! Fabulous stuff! I was truly in la-la land. At one stage I felt the tube in my throat but didn't give a hoot. And I have this weird memory of Dr Damn Nice holding his arms wide saying 'It's this big'. Didn't actually happen but the thought did give me a giggle!

So the countdown is on!

I get lucky again . . .

Firstly, if you are a boy or if you're not wanting to read waaay TMI about my girly bits, click away! Click away!

Ok girls and interested parties, here we go.

I met with the lovely Dr M today. He's very straight-forward and down to earth and introduced himself using his first name which is really only fitting given he was about to get intimate with me (and again, no dinner!).

We chatted, we laughed. Ok, he asked me a heap of personal questions and I tried not to squirm while answering them!

After he'd loosened me up with a bit of chitchat, it was down to business and he quickly had me half naked. *sigh* Again, more action these past months than I'd seen in a while! Up in the stirrups I go, trying not to make eye contact with the lovely Dr M who's head was level with my vajayjay. And yet again, what does my mature mind come up with? "Please don't fart!". I am like, sooo totally mature like!

So we had a date with the Metal-Duck-Bill-of-Lurve (aka Speculum) which hurt like a buggery. Dr M made some comments I won't repeat but let's just say you don't want to hear them from a date OR a doctor! A biopsy was done of my uterus which felt similar to being scrubbed on the inside with a steel brush while your body cramps down physically sending up pain signals that are screaming out 'GET THIS DAMN THING OUT OF HERE'. My uterus is already not a fan of Dr M.

After my pants were back on and decorum was re-established, we had a chat. It seems my right ovary has an endo growth. My left has a 5cm cyst (can I say, DAMMIT - that was supposed to be the GOOD ONE!). My uterus is too full, too bulky, and backwards and in the opinion of Dr M, needs to be removed. He's testing the biopsy and my blood for cancer and other lovelies, but says leaving it in there as it is will risk my health (read - may cause cancer in the future) and given it's current performance record, it pretty much sucks at its job anyway. He wants to remove the uterus, cervix and the right ovary. He wants to clean out all of the endo that's in there and try to save the left ovary so I don't hit menopause at the not-usually-referred-to-as-young-age of 36.

I walked out totally confused. Mainly because I was totally confused about what I felt. Confusing, huh? I'm not particularly attached to my uterus and right ovary (apart from the obvious!). A while ago I toyed with the idea of another child and discounted it. Not a great idea for our family or me, physically or psychologically. So I'm not upset for not being able to have anymore children. I think part of me is sad that the organ that grew and nourished my children needs to be ripped out.

Then I started thinking irrationally. Am I still counted as a woman if I'm missing half of my 'woman bits'? Will I ever have sex again? Will I ever enjoy it again? Will I ever be wanted again?

On the flip side . .

No periods!!
No pain!!
Less PMS!!
Reduced risk of Cancer!!!
Saving money on girlie products!

Rooted

Ultrasound results are in and after spending (way too much) some time on Dr Google, I'm still totally confused.

Based on my really sucky medical knowledge, apparently my whole reproductive system is rooted. Yes, that's my professional opinion.

To be more specific, my uterus is . . .umm . . .too big, too full, flipped backwards, and has an icky pattern of *something* (Radiologist couldn't find what). My right ovary is about 6 times the size of lefty and has a charming growth on her. Noice.

I head to Dr Damn Nice on Friday so will be chatting to him however as he's a GI Man (Jo's brother! lol) he'll no doubt have to send me on to a gyno.

And weirdly, I'm ovulating lmao. Does she not know she's in retirement?!?!

So why am I blogging again?

Mainly because just as I thought life would settle down a little, the Big Kahuna decided to shat on me once again. *waits for Big Kahuna to smite me for calling Him Big Kahuna*

After feeling unwell for a while, I headed back to Dr Why Bother for a flu shot and review of an earlier x-ray.

Symptoms were varied including many I hadn't mentioned to Coparent:

• Reflux. BAD

• Stomach pain - like I'd found that sharp knife I'd lost. In. my. stomach.

• Inability to swallow - mainly at night. There's nothing quite like rolling over for a swig of a drink and being unable to swallow it.
  

• Weird full feeling in chest including slightly funky back pain

Long story shot is Dr Why Bother refused to provide the flu shot. Rude. And said I had to present to the local hospital's ED (forevermore known as Likely to Kill You Hospital).

I smiled and nodded but knew I would rather crawl on broken glass than present to Likely to Kill You Hospital.

With Coparent's help, I made an appointment with Dr I'm-a-Racist-but-ok-in-a-pinch who promptly sent me for bloods, urine test and a CT scan. Eek! Interestingly the results from Dr Racist revealed:

I have a large incarcerated hiatus hernia. No, it's not exactly in jail but basically half of my stomach is stuck up in my chest behind my heart. Clearly it couldn't find the GPS one day and just got lost while wandering.

I have an incisional hernia down below. Yeah, the two surgeries done a couple of years ago by Dr Damn Nice haven't quite taken. NOT IMPRESSED.

I have a large cyst on my ovary. Yippee! This organ finally gets to rest and chucks a wobbly!

I have a boney 'growth' off my pubic bone. Most probably benign although they usually continue to grow and as I'm kinda attached to my bladder working these days, it will need attention.

Cysts on my kidneys. Apparently usually normal but hey, they just add to the fun!

Upshot is I will need surgery again. At least one, possibly more.

Monday I got for an ultrasound to suss out the ovary and pubic bone and Friday I meet up with Dr Damn Nice yet again. He'd better be nice - at this stage two surgeries have failed and I'm most likely going to let him do a third and therefore he'll accept another housepayment or two from me.

So yeah, I'm blogging again. I figure it's cheaper than therapy.